It was a bright and sunny weekend, and other than an afternoon drive, I felt quite unproductive. Not that an afternoon drive is productive, by any means. Had the wind been calmer, it would have been beautiful bike weather, but I don't feel like getting slammed into the side of a moving car by Mother Nature.
Of course, daylight savings time always throws me off, too. I really have no clue what time it is right now, not that knowing would matter.
Back in third or fourth grade, one of the projects I got to participate in with some classmates was a 'radio recording' (more precisely, a cassette recorder) of 'The Invisible Man'. This was something, reading lines and trying not to sound stilted and nervous, despite hating my voice on tape. I was the man, invisible as I was. Of course, dying at the end kind of sucks. It obviously wasn't too traumatic, as I went on to star in such middle school theater performances as 'Blanche Neige' as the level-headed Doc, leader of les sept dwarfs. I rocked it for those seven parents and two other French classes, let me tell you. "Au palais, mes freres, au palais."
I've had my yearbooks piled in a box by my desk for some time now, meaning to scan them in. Sunday, I came to the conclusion that my awkward years weren't necessarily consecutive. 3rd grade, I was smart-looking, adorable, and dapper in my turtleneck and green sport coat. Yes, my mother cuts my hair. Wanna make something of it?4th grade? Let the awkward commence! Those teeth, that I subsequently knocked out in 8th grade, early attempts at parting my own hair, the ivory fly-collared shirt with brown detailing and a sweater vest? I really wore sweater vests? Must have blocked that out of my head, since I remember this shirt in great detail, but I don't remember ever owning a sweater vest. Because yeah, that's the worst part of this picture. Fifth grade? Who knew 1981 was the year of the collar. I can only hope that was a white shirt, because I distinctly remember the navy blue sweater with the periwinkle collar. Because bulky layers is just what a fat kid needs for his school pictures. I'm sure I was wearing powder blue corduroys with this, because that's how I rolled. Fifth grade was also the year of our trip to Quebec, which included such highlights as me projectile vomiting in a mall, having scalding tomato soup spilled on me and my powder blue cords by a maitre d', and getting two black eyes on my first attempt at roller skating, ever. At least I didn't pull a Sarah Moylan, walking dead into a parking meter on the streets of Montreal. Because two solid days of public barfing is far less embarrassing.
Enough reminiscing, though. Obviously, last week's movie was The Invisible Man, the 1933 version drawn closely from the original Wells novel and a brilliant piece of early cinema. Credit goes to Ms. for picking this one out of the lineup.
For this week, a cursory review of the rules. Identify the film being quoted below using only your noggin. No Google, Bing, Altavista, Yahoo, Ask Jeeves, the like. If you're first, you win the peoples' ovation and fame forever, along with the coveted title of Iron Quote Guesser. Watch this space for the wall of Iron Quote Guessers of yore, I'm also debating the relative merits of declaring a three-and-out rule, or at least a three-and-Tuesday rule, just to give everyone a fighting chance. Voici la quote de la semaine:
Oh, I don't know much of anything.
Oh, Just Shut Up and Lie Down Somewhere
3 weeks ago