Fit For A Queen And The Missing Scheider

It's about twenty past 10 in the morning and I'm sipping on my fourth cup of coffee and using the computer to amuse myself. It's amazing how much fun a thoughtful person can have with just his or her hands. Beyond that, I'm letting Linda sleep-in this morning due to a nasty bout of the plague. We certainly have a great deal of work to do here, including getting out to purchase a new Queen size bed to replace the twin bed that we are sharing. We make it work, but it requires cramming my plastic body into a nook by the wall when it comes time for sleep. Sex is dangerous, what with all the gyrations and flailing about; It's only a matter of time before we fall off the bed and break out necks. We can't have that. Buying a new bed is one of the few required large purchases of our new household.

So I was pretty happy with the 80th Academy Awards, with Lewis and Cotillard both winning. Although it has no impact on my little life, so what the hell do I care. A matter of greater concern to me personally is that I'm unable to shave without looking as if I've been shot in the face. I suspect that I purchased cheap disposable razors that do not work as well as whatever brand of cheap disposable razors I used to use. My recent strategy has been to shave right before I go to bed. That way, when I wake up it looks like The Fly has been using my pillow.

One last thought about the Academy Awards. During the In Memorium tribute portion, dedicated to all the stars of varying degrees of staritude, they forgot to mention Brad Renfro, a young actor who did something that most actors never do, act well in an exceptional movie. The movie I'm thinking of is Telling Lies In America, and both he and Kevin Bacon are outstanding. But even beyond that he showed that he had a lot to offer. Apt Pupil is a flawed, but still an exceptional movie.

And what of Roy Scheider? He wasn't mentioned at all in the tribute. It sounds like an epic fuck-up, but actually it was just a technicality. The memorial is for movie folk who croaked in the year before January 31st.