The Notebook

I don't normally like watching tearjerkers (the only jerking off I do is in the bathroom with a Maxim mag and a roll of tissues), but I watched "The Notebook" with Jo this past week. I expected to go into the theater, watch the previews, and then sleep like a baby, but I was pleasantly surprised by the flick. It actually had a story, and character development, and some wonderful performances. The leading lady was quite pretty, and had a smile to die for. The leading man wasn't as convincing, but I would have rather had him act the part than a melodramatic spunkhead like Tom Cruise. I was thoroughly impressed by the characters in their elder state. James Garner was both touching and believable as the man who is in love with his wife even though she is in the advance stages of Alzheimer's and even dementia. Gena Rowlands played the part adequately, as a woman who constantly wakes up not knowing where or who she is. So here I was, a grown man with actual testicles, crying like a little girl through 3 parts of the movie. Here's an equation for you:

Rain + redemption + 1-2 characters crying and looking up to the sky with hands raised high = a cryfest for little ole' me.

I cried like a bitch during Shawshank Redemption when Tim Robbin's character escaped the prison after mucking through a mile of shit, and came out the other side in what seemed like a monsoon, raising his arms to heaven, ripping his shirt off, all the while having the rain pounce off his body and lightning illuminate the look of joy on his face.

I cried again when Noah and Allie are caught in a rainstorm in a canoe and can do nothing but look at each other, cry, and question why he hadn't written her. You dumb bitch, your whore of a mother kept his letters from you. 365 of them to be exact. And when was the last time you got your own mail? I thought these malicious thoughts all while I was balling my eyes out.

But more likely than not, the reason why I cried during this movie is because their love reminds me so much of my love for Joanne, my wife. From the first month of having her ignore me so that she didn't have to deal with her own feelings, to the year when we were apart, to the moment we got married, through the first three years of fighting, and to the trials and tribulations we are going through now, there is no more perfect a love than the love I have for her. And if there is, it is only surpassed by the love I will have for her as we grow old together. Allie and Noah had a passionate relationship. Yes, they fought, but they always found a way to forgive each other.




Anyone who knows me knows that I love myself more than anything. I mean, how can I not, I'm da shitz. It's just a front. And a big joke. I just like to laugh at myself. I don't want them to know that I am really vulnerable, sensitive, and most of all, scared, to be without the person I really love the most. I never thought I could look at another person and love them more than I love anything in this world. But when I wake up and see that face looking back at me, I know that I have nothing to worry about.

Went on a hike with one of my dogs yesterday. Gilbey had a great time running around and chsing western fence lizards. For a Jindo, he's a crap hunter, though. Most of the people who have Jindos say how adept they are at catching animals. Gilbey is 3 and a half years old and we've had him for 3 years, and he has yet to catch anything. I'm not complaining though. A biker was coming up behind us quietly on the trail, and I heard him shift his gears. But of course, Gilbey got startled when he came up beside us. What a dork. I think I'll enter him into a dog show contest that's happeninf on July 4th. I used to run that contest, and every year, most of the entrants would enter the same category - cutest dog. Everybody thinks their dog is the cutest, but mine is literally the cutest dog I've ever seen. Many people comment on how good-looking he is. I guess he takes after me (ha!).

Anyways, I took a pretty remote trail in a park predominated by Redwoods and oak/bay woodland habitat. Much of it was overgrown, dusty, steep, and secluded, so it felt good going for a romp. Although I woke up this morning with my right leg feeling like a stump. Shit, I'm getting old. I'll be 29 in September. I also practiced verbal commands with Gilbey, which he responded to well. He didn't even rub his neck on any horse or cow shit along the way, and there were at least 5-6 pies along the way. All I had to do was say off or stay, as I approached him on my extend-a-leash, and lead him past the shitpile. A horsebackrider passed us along the way and I had Gilbey sit. I had to forcibly seat him though, and he still got antsy as the horse passed by. I couldn't help but recall an incident a couple of years ago, when I let him off leash in a secluded area in the hills, thinking that no one was around. Suddenly a bull, yes, a friggin' bull came out of nowhere. Gilbey ran up to it, faced it, and started to paw at the ground and kick up dust, as if HE was the friggin' bull! What a little shithead. The bull would have none of this, so he charged at Gilbey with his horns, once to the left and another to the right, and like a Spanish matador witha red cape, Gilbey swiftfully evaded him. Then, the bull charged off, and Gilbey followed it victoriously, prancing along as if he had just slayed a dragon. It was funny as hell, and I know he was just protecting me, but now I am very wary of taking him off leash.

I hate dust. I already don't like housekeeping, but dusting takes the cake. It seems like every conceivable surface in the house acquires dust, and even after you dust it off one week, it's back the next week. Heck, it's back the next day, but you don't need to be dusting every day of your life. The person who discovers an all dusting robot, or dust-free ventilation, or monkeys or midgets that do nothing but dust, is going to be a rich man. Yes, I said man, because more likely than not it will be a man. Even though we all know it's a woman's job to dust. Fucking woman's suffrage movement. What a crock. What's so bad about being barefoot and pregnant? A) You don't have to worry about tying your shoelaces, and 2) you have an excuse for stuffing your fat face.

Hey, how come I don't have admin privileges anymore? Hmm??? I can't edit...but I can create a new post. Muhahahhaa. I'm writing in Franny's blog. I'm going to since you are not. The commenting system is offline again. Crappers. The reason I went on here originally was because I was going to fix the tagboard. O'well. Can't anymore. Later.