Aw. You guys. Jeremy Renner liked Amman.

It’s odd for me to hear Letterman ask if Jordan was “foreboding.” I keep forgetting that many Americans view the Middle East as a generally horrifying place. It’s really unfortunate, particularly in the case of a country like Jordan, because it’s so beautiful. And yes, it was tough as hell on me, I didn’t like living there, I didn’t like the kind of negative attention I got as a foreign woman, and I did run away, far away, but for a male visitor in particular, Jordan is anything but “foreboding,” I think.

In other news, that is one hell of a deserved Academy Award nomination right there.

Intense “28 Weeks”-era Jeremy Renner agrees. Speaking of intense, this guy has never been in a romantic comedy, I don’t think. Let’s hope he never will be in a romantic comedy. (Not that romantic comedies are bad on principle, but come on, the last good one I saw was “My Best Friend’s Wedding.” I didn’t even have a driving license back then.)

Monday music, the “road to Shambala” edition

I can’t sleep. First of all, “LOST” is coming back, for the last time (what in the hell am I going to do with my life once “LOST” is over? Get a hobby?). Second of all, the return of “Lost” has somehow managed to coincide with what is probably going to go down in history as The Day Natalia Came Close To Chewing Through Her Watch Strap In A Frenzy, or, perhaps, even as The Day Natalia Chewed Through Her Watch Strap In A Frenzy. Details will emerge whenever it is I am able to talk about them in a coherent manner. Let’s just say that I was stupid enough to write a play. And am now dealing with the consequences of this act.

So here’s the music I am listening to while picturing all of the different things that may or may not go wrong tomorrow, pertaining to the play, and also pertaining to “LOST” and acts of God in general:

Sexy Boy – Air
College Town Boy – Dent May & His Magnificent Ukulele
Sex Me Up – Datarock
Stand By Me (acoustic version) – Oasis
General Midi vs. Rusty 4eyes – Adventure Time
And I Was a Boy from School – Hot Chip
Dear Prudence – the Beatles
The Ice & The Storm – My Brightest Diamond
Hot Hot Hot!!! – the Cure
Jig of Life – Kate Bush

From my favourite “LOST” episode of all time:

The dudes in the van remind me of some of the crazier road trips I’ve taken. It’s beautiful, that moment, and a little sad as well. The image of Sawyer having beer in the end is the perfect conclusion to “Tricia Tanaka is Dead,” but it’s also a pretty good metaphor for dealing with life in general. Sometimes you just tilt your head a little, and then have a drink, and then get on with things.

You know what? I don’t need pants. I’m in Ukraine.

I have a long, warm coat to keep me comfortable for when I am outside. When I get inside, and take off that coat, half the time, I am no longer wearing pants. That’s right. I have begun pairing long tank-tops and tights. I wonder what took me so long, to be honest.

This is something I would never get away with in the States, which makes the experience all the more meaningful. It’s like, “so what if the ice hasn’t been cleaned off the street in a month? So what if I was having a cigarette outside the theater today, and someone set a pile of trash on fire in broad daylight? So what if the Mayor doesn’t even give a crap about the stray dogs overrunning the city? AT LEAST I DON’T NEED TO WEAR PANTS.”

It looks good with a pair of boots, but most importantly, nobody cares. And if they do care, they do so in an appreciative way. I can enjoy a pants-free existence at the movies, I can enjoy a pants-free existence while buying cold medication. I went and lit candles in church today, pants-free beneath my trusty coat.

Suck on that, Western Civilization.

All aboard the douchecanoe!*

One of the benefits of being single is going on bad dates, and then telling people about them. OK, maybe that’s not actually a “benefit” to most normal people, but if you’re a weirdo like me, in love with a good story above all things, it’s definitely a welcome side-effect. “This might suck right in this particular moment,” you think to yourself. “But imagine the vicious laughter it will elicit in some pub later.”

We’ll call our hero Dimon. This is a high-minded, cultured individual we’ll be talking about, and “Dimon,” a street-slang variation of the name Dmitriy, is surely a name that he would hate.

Dimon is an older guy I met on the bus. Or, rather, the bus stop. I hopped off at my destination, he hopped off after me, and offered me his arm to help me walk through the ice. As previously mentioned, the damn streets are not getting cleaned up (because that would make life too easy, causing everyone to forget their stern Slavic heritage), so it was a tempting offer. Plus, he didn’t look like a serial killer. He didn’t even look bad. Scratch that, he looked kinda good. As an irrevocably shallow sort of person, I wasn’t going to overlook that. Continue reading “All aboard the douchecanoe!*”