August 12, 2004

In 1972 a crack commando unit was sent to prison by a military court for a crime they didn't commit. These men promptly escaped from a maximum security stockade to the Los Angeles underground. Today, still wanted by the government, they survive as soldiers of fortune. If you have a problem, if no one else can help, and if you can find them, maybe you can hire The A-Team.


The Team in 1984

In a stunning (if late) move, the US goverment announced yesterday that the members of the notorious A-Team would be cleared of all charges. Apparently a typo led the A-Team to be incarcerated and duly chased down for thirty years for crimes actually committed by the H-Team. The members of the team were notably excited though their joy was tainted by the fact that beloved leader John "Hannibal" Smith could not be here to witness the historic day.

If it turns out that the governmental clearing is indeed a hoax, the Team is ready with a backup plan involving a strategic Building Something Musical Montage for creation of a complex escape from the courthouse where their honorable discharges are to be formally instated.

Stephen J. Cannell could not be reached for comment at press time but LAPD Sergeant Rick Hunter said he was sure Cannell would be pleased that the A-Team was getting their fair due at long last. Hunter also added that should the Team get any bright ideas about breaking the law on his watch, he'd "bust them down, mark my words".

via rustyangel

August 11, 2004

The Story of the Saturday from Hell
~or~
Why God Why am I not Adopted?


My Saturday entry alluded to a lot of pain and/or suffering at the hands of my parents but I left things deliberately vague. Though I'd sooner brand my eyeballs than tell my parents about The Crypt, in the interests of preserving what little remained of my sanity over the weekend I avoided details that could have accidentally fallen into the wrong hands. Until today. I dedicate this post to Blarg, Blu, and Duckie who got such a kick out of the story yesterday at Starbucks that they urged me to tell it here. I also dedicate it to Troi and Crogdor for being the first to hear the woeful tale while managing to keep straight faces and to Homie for actually immersing himself in the insanity at my side for the last two days of The Visit*.

* All references to my parents' visit will now be termed The Visit. To evoke a spirit of otherworldly invasion, alien anal probes, and other unpleasant things.


Day two of The Visit was planned thusly: Parents would arrive at Chateau De Daughter at 2:30, familial trio would climb into the parental vehicle and traverse to The Maul, we would scour said Maul for new shoes for me, then we'd head out for a pleasant dinner.

Day two of The Visit unfolded rather differently than planned. I can sum up what went wrong in two words. They left. Let me get a little more in-depth for you.

I was running late. As is the case with every other 365 day rotation of my life cycle, I might add. I wasn't even on time for my own birth, as my mother is fond of reminding me. So it should come as no surprise to anyone (least of all my parents) that at 2:25 on day two of The Visit I was standing naked before my closet bemoaning the fact that I had nothing to wear. Nothing to wear obviously being a highly interpretive description. Cue the apartment buzzer. My parents were 5 minutes early and I, though more or less ready (as in makeup and hair done), panicked because clearly I could not go to The Maul in my birthday suit. I grabbed a robe and ran for the buzzer, acknowledged my mother's too-cheery greeting, and let them in. I went to open the apartment door as I am wont to do when running late (every day) so that whomever is heading upstairs can just come on in and have a seat (as everybody and their dog knows to do when picking me up). To my surprise, my father was already at the door. Some other yahoo in our building of airtight security had let him in earlier so my mother's buzz was just an informative one. I clutched the robe closed (dear lord I almost flashed my father) and uttered the oh-so-savvy "What are YOU doing here?" by way of greeting. He just mumbled something that I sort of missed as I flung the door open wide and beelined for the bedroom to find some clothes. A minute or so later I heard my mother through my door (and miraculously above my music) asking "So you're not quite ready?" to which I replied succinctly "No." I went into my weirdly soundproof ensuite bathroom, found my rings, added lipgloss, yada yada. Ten minutes after the buzzer first sounded I emerged from my room and entered the living room ready to face the world with my parents. And stopped dead in my tracks. The living room was empty. Cue tumbleweed roll-by here. I sort of blinked and frowned and did the old "hand before my eyes" to make sure I wasn't actually blind. Nope. No parents. I checked Homie's room though of course they wouldn't be there. BAFFLED. Then it dawned on me. My parents had pulled the old we'll wait in the car trick. I should have guessed. They've always been very strange about sitting on my furniture. They don't sit so much as perch gingerly as though at any moment the couch may swallow them whole or perhaps tattoo them against their will. They obviously had decided to wait in the air-conditioned comfort of their vehicular cocoon. I grabbed my A-Team shoulder bag (gratuitous pop culture plug there), waved to the cat, locked the apartment, and went downstairs to the front foyer. Where, in the doorway of the building, I stopped dead in my tracks for the second time in nearly as many minutes. Right. Left. RightLeft. Blink. No car. No parents. Nothing. Cue tumbleweed roll-by here. Slowly, painfully, it dawned on me. My parents had left.

THEY LEFT.

Livid, I stormed back upstairs and dialed Homie at The Cup where he works. Foregoing formality (and really any semblance of manners), I greeted him with "Are my parents there?" "Yeah," he replied, sounding more than a little mystified. "They just sort of came in. Without you." Artfully he avoided asking where I was and why I wasn't there and why I was calling to locate them. I cursed and swallowed air and saw red and told him I was on my way. And would he please not let them leave. Again.

Upon arrival at The Cup, I found my parents cozily ensconced at a table for two with ceramic coffee mugs and a shared danish between them. "Hi," they greeted me, oblivious. "You're up!"

Time passed. Finally I trusted myself enough to ask, "Why did you leave?" My mother informed me that my father had told her I was still sleeping. Several problems presented themselves immediately upon hearing that explanation. For one thing, I both operated the buzzer and opened the door. While asleep. For another, I spoke to both parents on different occasions while listening to very loud music. While asleep. I took several breaths and made myself dizzy. "I was up," I told her, "but I was running a bit late. I'm sorry I didn't offer a formal invitation into the apartment but I was rushing to get dressed. I just ASSUMED you would SIT DOWN and WAIT." Blank stares. "Well," said my father, "we just thought we'd come get a coffee."

Through the vagaries of parental logic I discovered that a) being in a robe equals sleeping, b) I'm not worth waiting for when there's coffee to be had, and c) "We don't need to talk about it anymore. It's fine now." Courtesy of my mother, Queen of Denial. Cleopatra had nothing on her.

The rest of the day went sort of predictably downhill from there. My father got restless and fidgety 5 minutes after entering The Maul so we had to abandon him in Chapters. I found shoes and my mother watched while I paid for them out of pocket. We went out for dinner and my father ordered VEAL. Which is like kryptonite to a vegetarian.

In summation, my parents left me. They left. I really don't know how they'll ever top this one.

August 9, 2004

"There may come a day when the courage of daughters will fail. And on that day parents may come to town and it will mean the end of things. BUT IT IS NOT THIS DAY!"

Aragorn's pep talk notwithstanding, I did suffer a four day headache this weekend. All thankfully ended tonight.

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times..."

"Quoth the Raven, 'Nevermore'"