Category Archives: humor

Some Intrepid Girl Reporter

Posted on October 9, 2012 by mohawkvalleygirl

I think back pain must also effect the brain (cue brainless jokes) (you know who you are), because I had completely forgotten about another horror classic I watched on Saturday, The Corpse Vanishes (1942) starring Bela Lugosi.

Of course, starring Bela Lugosi is not a guarantee a movie will be any good or even that it will be a horror movie (remember when Boris Karloff played that Chinese detective?). Still, with the word “corpse” in the title, I figured we’d at least get to see those famous scary eyes.

The movie starts out quickly enough with a bride dropping dead just as she’s about to say “I do” (cue anti-marriage jokes). A photographer rushes in and takes a picture (paparazzi in 1942?). The undertaker takes the body away, and we catch a glimpse of some scary eyes in the back of the hearse. Oh boy! Then the real undertaker shows up. Oh no!

“Another kidnapping of a dead bride!” exclaims a girl from a newspaper who has just been denied an interview with the bride’s father. “What a story!”

At this point I sat up as straight as my bad back would allow and cheered. An intrepid girl reporter! Yay!

As per usual, Intrepid Girl Reporter gets no respect from her paper. The editor sends her to the next society wedding and he ONLY wants her to find out who’s there and what the bride is wearing.

“But what if I get a clue?” she asks. He does not deem this likely.

The mother of the bride in this wedding has demanded police protection. As the bride prepares, a mysterious orchid arrives, which she naturally pins right on. It MUST come from the groom, right?

Hello! Two minutes earlier the groom was at the door and was denied admittance. Would he not at that point have said, “Oh, well, give her this orchid from me.” That occurs to no one, and apparently the police protection does not extend to questioning deliverers of mysterious orchids.

Predictably, this bride also drops dead. They make sure the coffin gets on the right hearse, which is surrounded by motorcycle cops, but Bela cleverly steals it anyways. Intrepid Girl Reporter ends up with the orchid, which she — and nobody else — immediately recognizes as a clue.

Meanwhile, we follow Bela to his lonely mansion, castle, whatever it is (I missed the exterior shot), with the mysterious laboratory, and we find out why he wants the corpses of beautiful young women. He uses them (by means which are not clear but that hardly matters in a movie like this) to keep his wife young and beautiful. Does she have a wasting disease that makes her look old before her time? NO! She’s just old and doesn’t want to look that way! Come on, lady, none of us do! Slap on some Oil of Olay, schedule a Mary Kay makeover and drive on!

Perhaps I should be a little more understanding. These were the days before botox, after all. And, without this woman’s desire to look young, there wouldn’t be any movie. But she is so annoying! She’s crying with these big, loud sobs that go on and on, begging her husband to hurry, she needs [whatever he does] NOW! I was wishing he would give her a mysterious orchid so she’d just shut up already.

Intrepid Girl Reporter tracks down Bela through the orchid, which is surprisingly easy. What dumb cops they have in these movies. Law enforcement ought to sue Hollywood for defamation. Come to think of it, so should intrepid girl reporters, because this one is not a good representative. She spends a lot of time screaming and fainting (I think Fay Wray screamed once in The Mystery of the Wax Museum, but you really couldn’t blame her and she was intrepid the whole rest of the time).

It’s not a bad movie, in spite of Boo-Hoo Wife, Dumb Cops and Not So Intrepid Girl Reporter. There are some scary parts and a few creepy minor characters I haven’t mentioned (thought I’d save you something). One might wonder if it was really all that memorable, seeing as I forgot I had watched it till Monday morning when I was pondering my blog topic (it was kind of like, “Wait a minute, didn’t I see three movies on Saturday?”). But on looking back, I will give it this accolade: it was fun at the time.

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Shopping with Corman

Posted on October 8, 2012 by mohawkvalleygirl

As I mentioned yesterday, due to a bad back all I was good for was watching cheesy movies — uh, I mean horror classics. I continued my viewing with Roger Corman’s Little Shop of Horrors (1960).

The movie later became an off-Broadway musical, which was also made into a movie with Rick Moranis and Steve Martin. I never saw the play, and I did not like the movie (although in general I like both Moranis and Martin). However, I saw a trailer for the original movie on the Extra Features of Horror Hotel, and I was intrigued. I found it in Steven’s Collection of 50 Horror Classics.

In case you’ve never heard of the movie or play, it is about a man-eating plant. The plant is raised by a nebbishy loser who is on the verge of getting fired from a Skid Row florist at which he works. He doesn’t exactly know what he’s raising and discovers quite by accident that the plant craves blood and eats people. Complications ensue.

I have to say I liked it. Corman throws in a lot of comedy, some of which is heavy handed. For example, at every opportunity, the nebbish sticks his foot in a bucket and trips. It takes some finesse to pull off a bit like that and not have your audience say, “Where do all these empty mop buckets keep coming from?” Roger Corman films are not known for use of finesse. However, that is part of their charm, and I did get enjoy a chuckle or two.

I especially liked the florist’s one regular customer, a lady with an apparently infinite supply of relatives who died and needed flowers sent to the funeral. I also like the florist, the struggling businessman who is alternately ready to fire the nebbish or adopt him as a son and is reasonably torn between doing the right thing and making money.

The big name in the cast is Jack Nicholson. I had known he was in the movie, but I was under the impression he played the sadistic dentist later portrayed by Steve Martin. Not so: Nicholson is hilarious and a little scary as a masochistic patient. It is not a large part. At Nicholson’s stature now it would be a cameo. At his stage of career then, it is a memorable bit.

Leonard Maltin in his 2007 Movie Guide (Penguin Group, New York, 2006) says the movie is now seen as one of Corman’s best. I can see why. The plot moves right along, there are some good scares, and the dramatic conclusion is fitting. An enjoyable interlude on a Saturday afternoon. I may try it again sometime without the backache.

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Saturday Movie Matinee

Posted on October 7, 2012 by mohawkvalleygirl

I am hoping that this blog does not degenerate into All Back Pain All The Time, but can I just say, Ow. There was not a chance that I could run this morning and write a blog post about that. I thought I might manage a walking post, but I tried it and no dice. I did, however, watch an old horror movie and I’d like to write about that.

Spoiler alert! I may even give away the ending this time. We’ll see how it goes. I will say right up front that this is not a bad movie; I do not feel you would be wasting your time by watching it. So if you like this sort of thing, you might want to stop reading, go watch Horror Hotel, then come back and read this (clearly I do not feel that anybody’s time is wasted reading my blog).

Horror Hotel (1960) is the first entry in a DVD collection I got for Steven some years ago called “Horror Movie Classics.” It came in a tin box that makes horror noises when you push a little button on top. I purchased it mainly because it included the silent classic Nosferatu, one of the scariest pictures ever made. But I find I enjoy the cheesier entries as well.

The first thing that struck me about Horror Hotel is that the opening scene, a flashback to a witch burning in 17th century New England, was used in The Curse of the Blair Witch.

Wait a minute, have I written about this before? At this point it would behoove me to check. However, that would entail making my painful way up the stairs to the computer, waiting while it boots up and sitting on a chair which totally exacerbates my suspected sciatica for as long as it takes me to search every entry I’ve written about movies. That ain’t gonna happen. Oh well, they show re-runs on TV all the time. And scripted shows recycle plot lines ad infinitum. Anyways, maybe I never wrote about Horror Hotel in the first place.

Where was I? ah yes, the witch burning scene later recycled by the clever Blair Witch people. It turns out that this is a part of a lecture given by a wild-eyed professor who is, I think, getting just a little too heated about his subject matter. Of course a beautiful blonde student is fascinated by it all. She wants to go to the site of the aforementioned burning and do research, over the disapproval of her science professor brother and varsity sweater wearing boyfriend.

Setting aside the wild-eyed professor, this movie is lousy with foreshadowing. For one thing, here’s the ground level fog which never goes away. Seriously, outside of a haunted house with a good dry ice machine, has anybody ever actually walked through this thick, scary mist on the ground? I never have.

Naturally Blondie ignores the gas station attendant who tells her “decent folk” do not go where she is headed. Naturally she picks up the scary hitchhiker who speaks in sepulchral tones using language from another century, apparently thinking he’s a perfectly nice guy that needs a ride even though it is just a bit odd that he disappears abruptly without saying goodbye or opening the car door. And why wouldn’t she explore that dark, cobwebby basement where there isn’t supposed to be one?

I’ve skipped a bunch of stuff, which I think is a good thing if you ever want to watch the movie. I think I’ll skip a bunch of other stuff, too. For one thing, it is probably going to be painful to sit at the computer and type this in (man, I love writing a blog; you can get away with all kinds of stuff).

The climax is exciting. I may be giving away too much by saying that evil is vanquished, but I just wanted to tell you that I sat there asking, “Why didn’t they just do that 300 years ago and save these kids the trouble?”

Well, over 600 words and my back isn’t hurting too badly. I think I’ll go lounge on the couch some more and watch some more horror classics. That way I’ll have something to write about if I’m not up for more energetic Mohawk Valley adventures soon.

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Almost Completely Lame

Posted on October 6, 2012 by mohawkvalleygirl

Myself as well as this post.

I think somebody somewhere has a voodoo doll of me and is sticking pins in it. He or she picks different spots. One day it’s the sinuses, one day the upper back, one day the lower back, later that day the bunions. This evil person’s evil plan is to make it so nobody likes me any more because all I can do is complain. I fear it is working.

Yesterday at work my headache reached nightmarish proportions. Seriously, I felt that I was in a nightmare. As I walked up the stairs to the ladies’ room I was surprised to see that I actually made it to the top of the stairs. I expected them to continue infinitely, as happens in some dreams (or have you never gotten the never-ending staircase or road or hallway?). When I got to the bathroom I was relieved to see real toilets not disgustingly dirty. I don’t know about anyone else, but when I dream about bathrooms they are either too wet and dirty for use or they are not real toilets but in the dream you are expected to use them as such, usually in full view of other people (or, again, is that just my sicko dreams? Paging Dr. Freud!).

After I got home and took a nap the pain subsided into mere lightheadedness. I could rock that, at least till bedtime, which would be early. Then as I was walking up the stairs (one flight) to the (normal) bathroom, I felt this sudden jab in my back. What the hell was that? After I went back downstairs and sat down, I found I could not get back up. This sucks! Well, I went to bed (after Steven helped me up). Sleep would help.

It did, somewhat. When I described my symptoms to a friend at work, she said it sounded like sciatica, which she suffers from. I do not know much about sciatica, except that it is fun to say (try it!). After a while the pain subsided. I reported this encouraging development to my friend.

“It comes and goes,” she told me. Damn! She went on to describe her own tribulations with sciatica. Oh dear! I said maybe I should not complain, because her case was obviously much worse than mine.

“You go right ahead and complain,” she told me. “That’s your prerogative. To complain and to change your mind!”

“Maybe I’ll change my mind about complaining,” I said.

The pain was practically gone by the end of the day. I thought I might even go running. Then I thought it might be more sensible to walk with my dog Tabby. Obviously she would prefer that alternative. By the time I got home, however, the pain was back. I could still rock a walk, I thought. Um, no.

I got on the computer. I would check my email, make my blog post, then decide. I checked the email. “Oh yeah, I wanted to email Entertainment Weekly and complain about YET ANOTHER double issue!” I stood up to go downstairs and get the magazine for the address. OOOWWW!

I went and laid down instead. I read, I relaxed. I made my painful way downstairs and ate something. I really really really wanted to make my blog post and get it over with. I had not written anything, but I had a tentative title, “Not Completely Lame,” and I had a tentative subject, my walk with Tabby which I had not yet taken.

In desperation, I came up with the above title and started typing, the results of which you see. You know, I think it is the hoariest cliche in fiction where the character wants to write a book, wants to write a book, wants to write a book, has some movie-ish adventure, then writes a book and it’s THE MOVIE YOU’VE JUST BEEN WATCHING!!! Have I just been guilty of a hideous piece of hypocrisy? How lame would that be? I would say, almost completely.

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Post about a Plod

Posted on October 5, 2012 by mohawkvalleygirl

Getting back into running is not easy, even after a short lay off. Come to think of it, it’s not always easy to keep going even when you’ve been at it a while, hence my frequent lay offs. But I thought if I put my spotty record and crappy runs out there, it might inspire others. You know, in a bad example kind of way.

I think I’ve spoken before about how no life is wasted because it can stand as a bad example. I don’t expound too much on the bad example I’ve set, because, quite frankly, it would depress me too much. But I don’t mind talking about what a lousy runner I am. Go figure.

So Saturday I ran for the first time in 13 days. Then I did not run for the next three days. I had my reasons. They are dull. Wednesday I made up my mind that if it was not pouring rain I would run.

“Guess I’m not mowing the lawn today,” a guy at work said.

“Is it raining?” I asked. I confess, I kind of had my hopes up.

“No, but the grass is soaked.”

As I left work, it seemed pretty good running weather. Cloudy, not too hot, and it had stopped raining long enough that there were not too many puddles. I went home, got into gear and got out the door before I could change my mind.

Almost as soon as I started running, I found that it was not so comfortable after all. High humidity. Oh dear. It was not too warm — the clouds helped with that — but the air was heavy. And let’s face it, I was heavy (I think I still am, but let’s stick with Wednesday). This was going to be a plodding run. I plodded.

One good thing about re-starting running is that a short run is still an accomplishment. Another is that I don’t feel obligated to run hills. I was soon pondering how short a run I could do and still call it a run.

I saw a patch of bright color on a tree. That encouraged me. I do love the fall colors. I looked around for other sights to distract myself from my troubles. Maybe some Halloween decorations.

I saw a couple of gravestones in one lawn, one with skeleton parts sticking out of the dirt in front of it. Various ghosts and skeletons hung from different porches. I was pleased to notice some cobwebs that look the way mine usually end up: clumpy. Really, the clumps did not look bad. I felt quite encouraged to dig out my own cobwebs and get to work (um, I haven’t yet, but give me time).

I won’t lie to you: it was a crappy run. I plodded the whole way at an embarrassingly slow pace. I mean, it was a plod. It was not even a shuffle. I plodded for the same amount of time I shuffled on Saturday. Even my cool down walk with Tabby felt a little ploddy.

I could go on about how crappy the run was, but I can see some readers (you know who you are) tuning up their miniature violins. Hey, I was just about to get to the looking on the bright side part! The bright side is that I did it. I ran before my three day lay off became a four day lay off. And I got a blog post out of it. Hope to see you on Lame Post Friday.

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Spaghetti and Meatbars

Posted on October 4, 2012 by mohawkvalleygirl

No, I am not mispronouncing my L’s. I actually did make meatbars.

The meal started with a tube of ground turkey that Steven and I had acquired some time ago (long story, not very interesting). Of course, ground turkey is not interchangeable with hamburger, so it sat in our freezer while I made meatball plans which somehow never came to fruition. At last, Sunday I made up my mind to purchase some sausage to mix with the turkey and make meatballs.

My first problem was that I could not find any loose sausage. No matter. I can get the casing off a sausage. I put both meats in a bowl and added some crushed garlic and bread crumbs with Italian seasoning.

I added an egg. Two eggs? It looked like enough meat for two eggs. And that’s where I was quite wrong. Two eggs was too many. My meat mixture was… not exactly soupy but definitely too moist. I tried adding more bread crumbs. I was emphatically not inclined to run back to the store for more meat.

Probably the meatballs would solidify when cooked. I tried rolling a couple. Not a success (no, I did NOT take a picture to immortalize my stupidity) (oh, yeah, I know, I’m writing about it in this blog. But who reads anymore anyways? Almost everybody looks at pictures).

Finally I poured the stuff into a baking dish like it was a cake mix. I smoothed it out and stuck in into a 350 degree oven. Twenty minutes later I had… I guess you could call it Italian meatloaf. I cut it into rectangles and added it to my sauce (which I had been putting together all this time. Should I have mentioned that?).

They did not taste too bad. However, as I write this I slap myself on the forehead and say “D’oh!” I forgot to add grated Parmesan cheese. I must try to remember that the next time I make a batch of meat… something.

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Cheese Before Wine

Posted on October 3, 2012 by mohawkvalleygirl

Steven and I began our Friday Mohawk Valley adventures with a trip to Vintage Spirits in Herkimer, NY for a wine and cheese tasting. I was delighted to see that Three Village Cheeses was providing the cheese.

The wine tasting table seemed a little crowded, so I started with the cheese. Tom remembered me from last June. He had read my blog post from that tasting, so that established cordial relations right away.

I tried the feta first and immediately declared it my favorite. So smooth, so deep. I don’t know how people usually describe cheeses (notes of… what? I never taste the notes in wine either, so what does that tell you), but I thought the feta was substantial. The other heavy one was the tomme, which I think I declared my favorite last time. I like the ones that are more complex.

I happily nibbled the mild ones, too, and when I got to the Habanero Havarti (I think habanero should have a tilda over the n, don’t know how to do it on my computer) (point and laugh if you must), I knew I had found my cheese of the day.

I recently bought some store brand pepper jack at Hannaford and found I liked the bite. Well, this was a glorification of that taste. The cheese was cheesier! The pepper was peppier! It was better than yummy!

Having made up my mind on the cheese, I turned my attention to the wine. Of course, as I sipped I returned to nibble. Must experiment with wine/cheese pairings after all.

I believe I can purchase Three Village Cheeses at Ilion Farmer’s Market. If not, I will surely make my way to the cheese factory and retail store at 2608 Newport Rd., Poland, NY. I can get directions via their Facebook page. I think it is time to upgrade from store brand cheese. Sorry, Hannaford!

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The Whistler Once Again

Posted on October 2, 2012 by mohawkvalleygirl

I was very happy on Saturday morning to see another Whistler movie listed for TCM. I naturally DVR’d it for Steven’s and my enjoyment on Sunday. By the way, Spoiler Alert! Although I do not intend to give away the ending.

The Secret of the Whistler opens with the usual shadow of a man and sound of whistling followed by voice-over narration.

I have not mentioned that all the Whistler movies have starred Richard Dix. So far we’ve seen him as a businessman who changes his mind about suicide by hit man, a mysterious stranger who enlists the help of a beautiful blond, and a rich guy who turns to murder after supposedly learning how to live. This time out he plays an apparently not very talented artist who nobody particularly likes living off his ailing wife.

The description of the movie in the Guide said an artist’s second wife suspects he killed the first wife. This is a plot that has worked very well in any number of gothic romance novels (these are the paperback books with a full moon, a castle and a beautiful girl running, not the teenagers with lots of black make-up) (I suppose I have just dated myself). It took me a while to realize they were going to spend most of the picture getting him married to Wife No. 2.

The movie starts out creepily enough with a woman ordering her own tombstone. At least, the movie clearly means for us to find it creepy or at least surprising. Haven’t these people every heard of pre-planning one’s funeral? The lady says, “You will be notified,” when asked date of death. Well, duh! I think it would have been a good deal more creepy if she had known the date. On the other hand, that may have meant she planned to commit suicide. Oh, hey, what if she would have put as her epitaph: “Murdered.” Just a thought.

Where was I? Ah yes, soon we have the set-up: unsuccessful artist husband sponging off dying wife while making up to beautiful blond gold-digger model. The other characters include a female artist, apparently successful, and her reporter boyfriend and another male artist who is friend and sometime employer of Blondie.

Richard Dix plays all sad-eyes my-wife-is-dying while Blondie plays all wide-eyed sympathy till we’re not really sure who is playing who. Actually, I wish they had played up Blondie as cold-hearted gold-digger a little more. For one thing, when she starts to suspect her new husband of murder she could have had blackmail on her mind. For all I know she did. I don’t think the actress was quite clear on the character’s motivations.

The movie takes an awfully long time to get going. A few times the Whistler addresses Richard Dix, asking him is he getting paranoid, is he getting desperate? I don’t think he did that in the other pictures. Once things do start moving, they move quickly enough gloss over a couple of “Wait a minute!” points.

For example, the loyal (to the first wife) maid is still around, per provision in the will (really, you would think first wife would have left the poor woman a pension, not just a crappy job). The maid says she’s staying to prove the husband a murderer. All she has to do is find the diary. Hello! They were on a three month honeymoon, during which time all the dead wife’s things were moved to the attic and the house redecorated. Even if the maid was locked out for the three months, are her duties so onerous she couldn’t find ten minutes to look in the attic since? It certainly doesn’t take Blondie very long to find said diary when she goes up there.

Things wrap up pretty quickly, as Whistler movies tend to do. Not a bad movie in spite of the slow start. I wish they had done a little more with the tombstone and given the minor characters more scenes, but what do I want in an hour and fifteen minutes? For a cheesy interlude on a Sunday, I enjoyed it.

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Disreputable Run

Posted on September 30, 2012 by mohawkvalleygirl

I guess Saturday Running Commentary is back.

This morning I ran a couple of errands (OK, one errand), so got running after 9:30. That is the joy of this time of year: you don’t have to get out the door prior to 7 a.m. to run in a comfortable temperature.

I have taken 13 days off running (I went to the calendar and counted). I can explain this as I explain many of life’s vicissitudes: shit happens. I almost talked myself out of it yet again, but then I thought I might be glad if I ran.

One good thing: all my running clothes were clean. I didn’t even have to search the laundry basket for socks. Bonus! I set out with determination and high hopes.

And at first it was not too bad. I knew I would not run any hills, and I knew I would not run very far, and I think everybody knows I do not run very fast. But I ran. I crossed German Street, because I saw a pick-up truck parked across the sidewalk. I did not feel like running around it, and I had a good opportunity to cross. Then as I got closer to it I was glad, because a guy was standing near it talking to two ladies on the porch. Not that I mind running by people and even saying hello, but to interrupt their conversation and run around their pick-up truck seemed a little complicated.

So there I was on the side of German Street with all the hills. Surely one little hill wouldn’t kill me. I decided not to take the chance. I ran up a block of Main Street so I could cross over and run down the nice path over what used to be a hydraulic canal. I looked at the houses now next to a nice path not a nasty ditch and thought they must like it. I saw a lady waiting outside a house. Waiting for a ride to work, I speculated. Then I speculated she worked someplace with a lax dress code, because she was wearing sweatpants. As I got closer she turned so her back was to me. I guess she didn’t want to take a chance I would say hello, but maybe I am again speculating.

I continued down German Street and ran up Dorf Street. I like Dorf. It looks a little back roadsy, because it is very quiet and there are no sidewalks. It curves around too, and that adds a little interest. Dorf crosses Prescott, a dead end street. I started to go up Prescott but saw a pit bull looking dog which may or may not have been on a leash. I turned around. He may have been a perfectly nice dog, but most dogs get a little agitated at runners.

I went back down Prescott onto German and quickly found a place to cross back to my side of the street. I saw a pedestrian walking on the side I’d just been on, coming towards me. I waited till she got closer to wave or say good morning. She kept her eyes pointed studiously ahead. I thought I must look more disreputable than I thought. I wondered if the pick-up truck people would have greeted me but turned off German before I got that far so I will never know.

After a while I got a little tired of running, but I persevered. It wasn’t a bad run at all, except for the people who acted like they didn’t want to look at me. But perhaps I’m reading too much into it. Still, before I go running again I may spruce up my running outfits a little. Too bad I don’t know how to post a picture.

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Best Lame Plans

Posted on September 29, 2012 by mohawkvalleygirl

It is not easy to write when you have a raging sinus headache.

My original plan was to write two posts on Thursday. Then Friday after work I would have only to hit “Publish,” and Steven and I could be off on our Mohawk Valley adventures.

Well, Thursday, I found out that it is not easy to write when you are dreadfully nauseous and laboring under strong emotions. Thursday’s post, in case you couldn’t tell, was composed at the computer with not a whole lot of time expended. Believe it or not, a great deal of thought was expended. It just didn’t seem to do me much good.

Fast forward to Friday (today) (oh, wouldn’t we Monday to Friday workers LOVE to be able to do just that). I was determined to write something that I could hurry home and just type in. After all, how hard could it be? It’s Lame Post Friday!

A little voice in my head is saying, “Cindy. Isn’t it time you stopped this obsession of posting every day? It was all very well for the first year, but now how many times a week are you craving people’s indulgence for another dumb post? Shouldn’t you be going for quality over quantity?”

To that voice I say, “Oh, do be quiet. Why can’t you say something interesting, like the voices in other people’s heads? Maybe something involving aliens and a tin foil hat.” I think I would look rather fetching in a tin foil hat. I wonder if it would do anything to alleviate the headache.

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