Holy what?

I need to couch this in a lot of things; here's a seemingly unrelated list of them that will become clearer once I get to my main point:

• I'm still sick, and therefore still crabby
• I have been watching TV and sleeping in maybe roughly equal amounts since midday Friday
• I'll watch almost any damn thing if it's likely to be funny at this point
• I have a great deal of respect for the good the Catholic Church has done in the world, while still disagreeing with much of its doctrine
• I don't think, usually, religion is the cause of evil; I think some people behave badly for a variety of pretty much inexcusable reasons, and when those people happen to be in positions of power, the damage that does can be worse (of course, the converse is true for people who behave nobly)
• I'm tired; that was a lot more philosophical than this likely warrants
• I rarely like British television as much as people think I will

OK, back to that main point.

Does this:

Three Catholic priests are exiled to a remote Irish island after various misdeeds brought them under the scrutiny of the bishop.

Sound like a terrible premise for a comedy TV show? Nightmarish, even?

Oh, wow. Spoiler after the colon; highlight the text to read: The last episode of the series, no kidding, is titled "Going to America." 

I am afraid to watch this show, but I don't really see how I can not. Did everyone else already know about this?

Oh, super, she's sick and wants help again

As we all know by now, I am crabby when I'm sick. And as frequent commenter Joe is fond of telling us, Facebook is a huge waste of time. Now, I disagree with Joe, because today, in my cranky state, I have gotten a great deal of sympathy from Facebook, and for that I am grateful. You know what I have not gotten from Facebook? Good movie recommendations. Maybe you can do better.

Here are my requirements:

• It must be happy/fun (I don't need good movies that are not happy/fun. I have a queue full of those. That is why I am asking for help);
• It must pass the Bechdel test (for our purposes, the movie needs to contain at least two female characters, with names, who talk to each other, about something other than a man*);
• It must be available on Netflix streaming.

These are not my requirements for all movies ever, they are my requirements for me right now when I am sick and very cranky about it. In the comments, I'll try to list some movies that meet this set of requirements (including helpful ones from the Facebook post), but you have to do the same, OK? Please don't let me think there just aren't any movies that meet these requirements.



*Men are not limited to romantic interests. They can include but are not limited to male nemeses, children, parents, bosses, royalty, etc.

Bonnie and clod

I have a few friends who've been going through big deal nasty health stuff this year. And two are now, blessedly, through the worst of it for now. Which is great. So much relief. I suspect you'll hear more about one of them next week, but now you just get a funny story at my expense, about the other one.

So, she's doing great. Her treatments are over. We needed to celebrate, I thought. And what started out as talking about having one or two of us go out for drinks turned into her thinking about all the great folks who've been really very much there for her, which turned into our inviting a bunch of people to come have a party at my house. Which is all as it should be.

In the interest of not making her life any more difficult, I handled the invitations.

Now, it happens that there are two women who work with us who have the same first name and last initial. We'll call them Bonnie Cormier* and Bonnie Carruthers.* They are otherwise nothing at all alike, except that they're fun to have around. I'm a little closer to Bonnie Cormier, who is also a friend to the guest of honor (who we'll call GOH). But GOH is closer to Bonnie Carruthers, who I like fine but do not know well, and Bonnie Carruthers has been a great help to GOH in her illness.

So, of course, as we were planning, GOH reminded me to invite Bonnie. And I invited a number of people, including Bonnie. And Bonnie was the first person to respond, saying what a great idea it was and how glad she'd be to attend, and could she bring anything? And because I'm organized like that, I started an RSVP list, and wrote "Bonnie C." at the top of the "yes" column.

(Confused yet? Welcome to the three-card monte that is my brain. I, too, have lost track of which Bonnie we're talking about.)

And when I sent GOH a list of who was coming, "Bonnie C." was right there at the top of the list, but as I was typing it, I thought twice. So the actual list item says:

• Bonnie C. (Hm. I invited Bonnie Cormier. Just occurred to me, did you mean Bonnie Carruthers? It is not too late for me to invite her.) 

And then the response came: "I did mean Bonnie Carruthers ... Bonnie Cormier is great too!!"

Ah, ick. Now I feel like a jerk, because the invites went out almost a week ago, and now the gathering is tomorrow. But, as diplomatically as possible, I send this message to Bonnie Carruthers:

I am SO sorry to have inadvertently left you off the original list for this; you were on my paper list, but I just realized as I was nudging people with reminders that you’d never actually gotten the e-mail. Yikes! I really hope you can join us; I know GOH would want you there if you can make it, but I understand if the notice is too short.

to which I get the response, from Bonnie Carruthers:

You didn’t leave me off the list – I got the original and I’m planning to be there (bringing a munchie).

and so I responded how glad I was to hear it, and then quickly checked my sent messages to see if I had also sent one to Bonnie Cormier. Nope.

So, all is right with the world, except that Bonnie Carruthers probably thinks I’m a crazy person. Or drunk at work. Either way, should be a hell of a much-deserved party.





*Not their real names, though Bonnie Cormier and Bonnie Carruthers were two girls from my second-grade class with whom we had somewhat similar difficulties, back in 1978.

The anonymous comment experiment: Buying

I'm bringing back the Anonymous Comment Experiment, because I miss it. Wasn't it fun before?

Respond to today's question (or any of them) in the comments, anonymously.
Those of you reading the comments on any of the anonymous comment threads, realize that anonymity may increase the likelihood that some of the comments may be mean or NSFW. Although frankly, that didn't really happen before.

What's the best purchase you've made in the last 48 hours? Why?

Live

I've been watching the first season of Saturday Night Live, and I've had a theory since I was in college that for any given person, "when Saturday Night Live was good" equals "the original cast" and/or "when [said person] was in high school."

Mind you, I've never actually watched much of the original cast stuff — clips here and there, as they come up, pretty much. But I'm finally watching some of those early shows now. There's a lot of terrible stuff in there (including recurring bits by the Muppets, in what have to be the least interesting Jim Henson creations ever). Like, a lot. To the point where I fast-forward a lot.

But the stuff that's good is amazing to the point of transcendent, so that's what our nostalgic brains remember.

In the whole first season, I've had my jaw drop with astonishment several times, but only two sketches have made me laugh out loud.

If I find the other one online (and I'm trying, because it's fantastic), I'll post it to Facebook. OK, Joe, and link to it in the comments.

All the single ladies

I would like to thank every single person who did not send me this story from The Washington Post: "The single life: Some people never find the love of their lives. And live to tell about it."

Criminy, that was an obnoxious read. That I obviously read every word of.

So... singleness. Nearly all of CMC the readers I know about are married or permanently coupled. Do you sit around worrying about me? Do you think I'm just fine single? Do you assume I'll meet The One? Do you assume singleness is a straight-person thing, as the Post seems to? Do you not think at all about other people's relationships or lack thereof?

Because who is the intended audience of that article?

Face time

You know what I thought would be cool? If City Mouse Country had a Facebook page.

Just think how much easier that'll make sharing with your friends, while still protecting my pseudoanonymity.

Plus, when there's a new post, you'll know about it right away, even if you've resisted the magic of the RSS feed.

Plus, there will probably be occasional updates visible only to Facebook likers.

What are you waiting for? Go like me! Go really, really like me!

Putting the city in City Mouse Country

I went to DC last weekend. I've been trying to think about how to write about it, and I haven't come up with anything brilliant in a week, so, you know, we default to bullet points.

I:

• Saw 32 old friends, ranging in age from roughly 2 to roughly 90
• Met 4 new ones, ranging in age from roughly 4 weeks to roughly 30 years
• Missed a whole lot more
• Lunched with a cousin
• Breakfasted with my parents
• Incited my goddaughters to a screaming fit 
• Got a pedicure
• Made a new life plan
• Got a fantastic massage
• Lost at poker
• Had a few drinks
• Had a million laughs
• Went to church
• Got my hair cut
• Finished one book
• Started another
• Encouraged others to move to Framingham
• Wore flip-flops (perhaps ill-advisedly)

I also gained some pretty earth-shaking new perspectives on a bunch of stuff and had. a. blast.

The result is that it's been kind of a funny near-week since then: a little bit floaty, quite a bit smiley, and deeply warm with the reminder of how much I gained from my city life. It won't be a year and a half before I go back again.

Good morning

It's Saturday, so I slept in a little.

I awoke to what, in my half-asleep state, I assumed was the kids in the apartment upstairs running around.

And then, a few moments later, jolted fully awake to the realization that I live in a free-standing, one-story house.

So what the hell was that?