Viewed: television

For some strange reason, I had an interest in watching this old Disney movie. I remember seeing and loving it as a kid, and I was just in the mood to revisit it. It’s a cute movie, but several things about it make me wonder how I could have understood it as a child.

To start with, the British accents are very thick. Even now, as an adult, I found it difficult to understand some things the kids said. And to make it worse, some of the things they said are very British, making context difficult. I would imagine that half of what the kids in the movie say are completely unintelligible to the average American child.

But then, what the heck do kids care about what’s being said when there’s totally cool stuff like flying beds, turning people into rabbits, cartoon talking animals, and walking and fighting museum exhibits? The special effects are great: the integration of live action and animation is very well done, and the live action animation of the museum armor and uniforms is downright spooky.

Overall, it’s an amazing fantasy romp with a climax pitting good magic against bad Nazis. Maybe kids don’t need to understand the grand backdrop of World War II, or what in the world the Cockney kids are saying to enjoy this adventure. I didn’t as a kid, and I didn’t as an adult.

Bullgrit
bullgrit@totalbullgrit.com

On my way home from my mom’s house, I saw a gas station selling unleaded regular gas for $3.48. I checked my gas gauge, and fortunately I was just under half a tank. (It’s says something about something that one would consider himself “fortunate” to need gas at $3.48/gallon.) Unfortunately, to get into the gas station, I had to do a U-turn around a median. I performed the maneuver and didn’t notice that the station lot was full of cars waiting in lines. (It was after dark and traffic was pretty heavy, that’s why I didn’t see the congestion until already committed to the pull in.)

This station was selling gas on the cheap because a new station had opened down the street, and as a gimmick to get people in for the grand opening, it was selling gas cheap. I was third car in line after the person currently at the pump. When I was next in line, I saw the guy ahead of me pump gasoline all over the ground because apparently the auto-stop didn’t work. “I’ll have to keep my eye on that,” I said to myself.

When it was my turn to pull up to the pump, I made sure to stop in such a position that I wouldn’t have to stand in the puddle of gasoline — didn’t want to track that into my car. I got out, swiped my debit card and pulled the nozzle off the pump. Gasoline erupted from the nozzle as soon as I lifted it from the cradle. Dammit! I thought I managed to shift my feet out from under it in time to avoid getting my shoes.

I pumped my gas, stopping at six gallons, thinking that was enough to fill the tank without overflowing like the guy before me did. I hopped into my car and made my way back to the direction that would take me home. My gas gauge showed a full tank, and I was happy with my twenty-one dollars worth of gas. But then I started smelling gasoline in my car. Oh damn.

Some of that spilling gas must have fell on my shoes. I put the car on cruise control, and then removed my right shoe. I ran my window down and stuck my shoe out in the wind. I held it out in the 55 mph air for a minute and then brought it back into the car. I dropped the shoe into the passenger side floor, and then repeated the process with my left shoe. I didn’t smell gasoline after that, so I guessed it worked to blow the stench off

Bullgrit
bullgrit@totalbullgrit.com

Before Cowgrit and I bought our first house, we needed help with laying out the furniture and stuff. We’d never owned a house before, and we had more space than furniture to fill it. I thought we could just throw in the furniture we did have and then just pick up new stuff over some time. But Cowgrit didn’t want to live like that. Her mother had a friend who was an interior designer, and he came over to help us out.

Over the next few days, the designer picked out lamps and pictures and a couple pieces of furniture for us. Looking at each piece individually, I didn’t see anything great. Some of that stuff I would never have picked out. I mean, big pictures of fruit trees? Really? But once we had everything in our house, and the designer placed and hung everything the way he thought best, I was truly impressed.

Taken as a whole view, everything looked pretty good. It all just worked right. The way he arranged the furniture, the sofa here, the chairs there and there, was brilliant. Every seat in the living room gave a good view of the TV, but the feel was open and airy. Even the pictures of fruit trees looked perfectly right for the room. I will attest to the value an interior designer can give.

But every time I see one of these TV shows where they bring in interior designers to “make over” a house, I’m stunned by how stupid the results look. They walk through the house pointing out old crap, bad choices, and other such ugliness. Sometimes, the room looks perfectly acceptable, but the designer must remake everything drastically different. This direction reminds me of how hairdressers always make drastic cuts off someone’s hair when they do a makeover for a woman — long hair becomes neck-length, neck-length becomes short, and short becomes crew cut.

I remember seeing one home makeover show where the designer painted a wall some kind of puke green color. The homeowner complained that he didn’t like it (though his wife did like it), so the designer put in a spot of bright red to make the man happy. It didn’t work. The man thought it looked silly, and I agreed with him. What’s wrong with white or some other “normal,” neutral color. Why do TV designers have to go with drastic weirdness? (I know the reason why — I’m being rhetorical.)

A makeover show I’d like to see is to have a designer design a room, and then go away. Have another designer come in, not told that the room was designed by another professional, and give their opinion and design ideas. That would be fun to watch.

Bullgrit
bullgrit@totalbullgrit.com

I spent all day Friday in my hometown with mom helping her get her house sold and getting her new house bought. She joked that she had to spend 15 minutes homeless between the two deals. We got a few more things packed up, the business handled, and the paperwork signed. She’s staying in the “old” house for seven more days, and I’ll be back next weekend to help with the actual move.

I left after 8:00 Friday night, and arrived back at my home after 10:00. I was absolutely exhausted and sleepy, so I hope you’ll forgive such a short post this time.

Bullgrit
bullgrit@totalbullgrit.com