Narrowly Escaping Death, A Pest-Control Man, "The Cable Guy"

Well, just narrowly avoided death.

There I was, digesting my fried pork and egg bun, sitting on the couch watching Anthony Bourdain as I lamented the Land of Unemployment (gorged out, getting fatter and awaiting a Double Feature in the neighborhood).

I was making out-loud scoffs at the TV, as my roommate's girlfriend tip-tapped away on her computer box to do her "work," when what do our wandering ears behold?

A knock on the door. In the middle of the afternoon, the only thing I could suppose it would be is an arrival of DVDs from the UPS man.

But it wasn't!

It was a Pest Control man who lumbered up towards us; he was clearly either drunk or on some kind of crazy wacky weeds (who am I to judge ... unless if he was about to murder us?)

He came in, he made jokes at Hendrix (our dog), made me sign a paper that assured that he had, indeed, come by the apartment.

He laughed, he looked at us crazily; the roommate's girlfriend tip-toed back away, slowly, when our eyes met and recognized that we both sensed that we were about to be knifed.

He didn't spray anything and just took his clipboard and pesticide vat along out with him. My mouth just stood agape, probably breathing in the death gas he'd inconspicuously sprayed about the kitchen.

I had to go into my room, since I'd just narrowly escaped a knifing. Roommate's Girlfriend had to breathe deeply, do some mindless typing, pace up and down the hallway -- until we both elaborated on how we should be thankful for our lives.

Whoosh.

It reminded me of poor Mathew Broderick/Jim Carrey situation in The Cable Guy.

Advice on Jobs, Many Movie References ... Of the Three Suggestions, I'd be Harold Crick

Lord, have Mercy.

I'd really meant to write this post a couple days ago ... when I got the old canning, I received so much advice. Mama G first brought up the idea of me teaching for a bit while I figured out my sh!t (quality rye, that spelling is a throwback to the dreary days at The Bl'erg) - I then thought of applying to Nursing School, since I have a lot of "patience" with people and have volunteered at many medical establishments since the ripe age of 12.

Papa Grice, with whom I share very few e-mail or other New Age oral transactions, emailed saying I should consider teaching as a "Stop-Gap" job while I figgered things out ... I'd be a "hit" in public school placements due to my "patience" and commiseration with public school folks -- perhaps it's my downfall! Both self-realized, and parentally-realized.

I took both suggestions lightly at first, then obviously delved into the Interwebs and tried to find out the logistics of such fare. I studied for hours how to become a teacher, a nurse, a tutor, a struggling writer. SOOOOOOO, this meant all these considerations drudged up some good movie scenes.

I was assured by my favorite Food Critic that being fired (we both decided that "laid off" is only something that happens when you're post-50, with an ample pot-belly, and trying to hold on to your job -- wiiiiiiishful thinking) is ultimately nothing to be ashamed of (lies), and that it was good that I was "liberated" (thank you, SueW, for that forever memorable naming of it).

So, I decided to look up my favorite movie scenes of the vocational replacements for the job I hated.

We'll start with teacher ... good ol' Ben Stein and the Bueller, Bueller, Bueller scene: I memorized Simone's lines when I was, Lord, 9? 8? I would rewind my VHS burnt-out tape and write down the lines. Which are:

Economics Teacher: Bueller? Bueller? Bueller?
Simone: Um, he's sick. My best friend's sister's boyfriend's brother's girlfriend heard from this guy who knows this kid who's going with the girl who saw Ferris pass out at 31 Flavors last night. I guess it's pretty serious.
Economics Teacher: Thank you, Simone
Simone: No problem whatsoever.

Now we'll move to the Nurse position: I've ref'd it before, but Good god(s), Nurse Ratched is the best bad female character ... the last time I posted about her, Jack Nicholson was strangling her, so this is a step up?

And, we can do a favorite writer movie clip ... all things that are in my Unemployed checklist of future options. Wowsa. "Have you met anyone recently that might loathe the very core of you?" Goodness, so great.

Fired! (Or, Laid Off, as Mama G Is Making Me Say -- Semantics)

For all the naysayers out there, it happened. The above man was me, yesterday. I got the axe. I was lopped off and placed into the Land of Unemployment. Just two dear days after I was offered a DVD/movie column.

The treatment was quite classic. I walked in to the building, ready to hobble over to my little perch on the third floor. My daily dungeon. Boxes and hugs abounded, but I breathed deep and put one foot in front of another (with a little crippled swagger, sure).

"There's so much carnage, sorry for the weird face I made at you when you came in," said the first message I read in my work inbox.

The next message was a stately communique that read: "Employees: Watch this video before you do anything else."

Eerie in its coldness, eerier in its candor. The video was a little man who was hired some months ago -- round, balding and crude-looking -- telling us of the Restructuring. Some would be affected, but don't worry, They will be taken care of.

I was part of the They.

I wanted to post some great movie clip of someone walking the plank or getting their head chopped off; alas, I'm on the bus to Boston and they've blocked YouTube. JERKS!

Sooooooo, anyway, I cried some thankless tears as the HR lady told us of our fate; blubbered a bit, hugged my big coworker Ken, who made the days bearable, then shoved my hand in the face of my boss when he came over and said: "Really??! I DON'T want to talk to you right now." ME! It was a shock to the ol' system.

I even cut off the Bossman's Bosslady by saying, "You know what!?? You know WHAT!? I've been f*cking [no star in the actual convo] doing TWO jobs for this company. I should've spoken up sooner. I f*cking [see above] went to Harvard -- I don't know what I've been doing here."

Whoa, who knew this little Grice had the gall to say something like that -- or the arrogance.

C'est la vie.

PS: I think it's time for LA, though Brother Grice is now pushing for Austin. Hmmm, times, they're a-changing.

New Bloomberg DVD/Movie Column!! Errrrr, Maybe Not? Maybe Unemployment?

After a relaxing, awesome four-day long weekend and a pretty impromptu trip up to old Cambridge, I dragged my depressed bones out of bed yesterday as I realized that fun time was over and work was upon me. Oh, how I didn't foresee the roller-coaster that was coming.

I arrived to an email from the executive editor of Bloomberg Muse (arts) -- an intimidating lady -- asking me to come see her; she wanted to know if I'd be interested in doing a DVD column. (!!!) I'd still get to do my regular reviews whenever Main Reviewer throws them my way, but they had to get rid of their freelancers due to budget cutbacks, so she was asking me to fill the DVD Dude's role. ME! I'd get to choose to review big movies, obscure ones, re-releases -- all up to me.

I accepted (obvz) and I'm to be replacing Peter Rainer, who is a pretty prolific movie critic. I was so excited; shortly thereafter, the Main Movie Reviewer sent a message inviting me to lunches next week with head publicists at Warner's, the Int'l House of Publicity and Universal Pictures. My little Grice heart was a-thumping and I felt so ... so ... Successful!

I drafted my email to all of Rainer's contacts, as told, telling them I was the new columnist; oh, the responses were so enthusiastic: "New Blood! This is great - can't wait to work with you!!" [Me neither, faceless PR-person!!!] "Here's the pipeline, let me know which you might be interested in reviewing - or which you just want for yourself! Welcome to DVD-land! " [I'm to be receiving the new Friday the 13th 3-D Deluxe Edition tomorrow from this dear ... Happy early birthday, Grice! ] Etc.

So, imagine my dismay to come into work today to find the whole office consumed in panic.

The cuts, they've begun.

One of our big anchors was let go, show cancelled, today, as TVNewser picked up. Several others have fallen, and tomorrow seems to be the real day of reckoning. The rumors and compulsive talking about it have me fearing that I'll be axed before I get the chance to start my first regular column. I take back my prayers to the gods to be fired. I take them back!!

I suppose the only recourse is to think of something as brilliant as Ed Norton/Tyler Durden in Fight Club, as seen below.

There are a bunch of movies (Frost/Nixon ... boo) I planned to write on yesterday/today, but it's been too crazy. Maybe tomorrow -- from my couch, after they send us packing.

"I don't even have to come into the office, I can do this job from home." -- Msr. Norton




And, just for sh!ts, the Friday the 13th trailer from 1980. ("ch-ch-ch... ah-ah-ah")

Slice: `I Will Find You. I Will Kill You.': Taken Trailer

Talking with the main (sigh) Bloomberg movie reviewer yesterday, he asked if I'd like to join him to see "Taken," the upcoming kidnapping movie starring Liam Neeson.

"Knowing your tastes, I bet you'd like it. Also, remember that any time you want to come with me, just let me know."

Oy. From the first sentence, something tells me he doesn't think I have the most refined movie tastes or am a classy lady (who would?). From the second, I really need to take him up on that more -- I'm on a tuna-fish budget, after all.

I checked out the "Taken" trailer, which I know I'll like. It may just be a churned-out action/thriller, but I'm a sucker for Liam Neeson ... and action/thrillers in general.

"I will find you. I will kill you." AWESOME.

Trailer for "Taken," followed by the 1990 trailer for "Darkman," when I first gained respect for Neeson -- at the ripe age of 7. I remember the first time I saw it at the good old League City Dollar Cinema. Ah, those were the days.

Thanks Mama G for allowing for my warped movie sensibilities!

"Taken"



"Darkman"

My Obama "Movie," A Great Day, Pride in Country? Who Knew.

For perhaps the third time ever, I was able to do something enjoyable at work (barring movie reviews, and including only those activities directly-related to the Audio/Visual editing part of my worthless job). I got to make the above short package of Barack "No Drama" Obama!

I was told to put something together that reviewed his thoughts on/outlook for the dying economy. So I got to spend a good part of my afternoon watching and re-watching the Inauguration of our fair new leader. How strangely surreal it is to be so happy, excited and proud of our country. Bah, that sounds so cheesy and trite, but just at least for this one day, Eff It.

Boy, oh, boy did he look so serene as he strode out to deliver his words. In the wake of so much madness over Madoff, Wall Street pirates, Ponzis, Senate-seat selling and soooooo much more going on that's ruining my ever-dwindling faith in humanity -- today was a good news day, a historic one.

I used to think this scene from "The American President" was so inspirational and uplifting -- but our boy Barack blows Michael Douglas out of the water. (It's still pretty good, though.)

"Being president of this country is entirely about character." Now it is!

More Fancy Food, Great Friends, Then! A Dark (K)Night

A couple nights ago, my favorite food critic took a friend and me out to a fancy dinner. And, oh, what a great time we had. We gorged on goat and scallops and sweetbreads and more! (At least now my impending-gout will have been worth it.)

"How 'bout we three grab a quick cocktail after this?" Food Critic asks.

"Of course!" New Friend and I decide, effortlessly.

We travel uptown a bit and are happy and chatty in the cab.

"Oh, how lucky we are," we think, naively.

We arrive: an over-priced, swanky lounge -- just the thing to top off an excessive dinner.

We walk through those beautiful doors -- they may have parted for us, inexplicably -- and into the gilded first room. We peek in. Crowded, but, oh well, nothing will ruin this night.

We head in further, ready for some sweet, sweet bartender to mix us a sweet, sweet drink, when: OH NO, duck, Grice! Who is tha...is it...nooooo...y? yea? And is he wi.....? No!

Yes! That's when it became a Dark (K)Night, and it reminded me of the restaurant scene in "The Dark Knight."



Where were you gods?!! I work hard on this karma.

Oooohhhh, I exaggerate. Kind of. At least my table got to laugh a lot and my story gets more and more sensational each time I relate it, obviously.

As for The Dark Knight, in brief, I was disappointed. As I've written before, I was part of a group of fools who waited in a line around the block at 2 a.m. on opening night. My expectations, needless to say, were extremely high; and as with most things fated to high expectations it was likely to disappoint (For things that have been fated to high expectations, see: above situation, the causes of broken heart, people, humanity etc.! Ha.).

A couple of main criticisms: it was confusing. My Old Friend came out of the movie talking about how it changed his life, but he hadn't even picked up on what exactly happened to Maggie Gyllenhaal's character, when and why. I was shocked, but the more I talked about it with people, I found many had been confused too.

Oh, and we certainly needed more face-time and reasons to care for the fate of Gyllenhaal in the first place! I didn't really care about that woman, a few more scenes would've upped my endearment level.

But it was already much too long. When poor Heath Ledger wasn't mesmerizing us on-screen (obviously, he's brilliant in the film), I found myself wandering around in my brain and wondering after the price of tea in China.

Finally, I wanted to throw my popcorn at the screen when I found that the way we're going to find out whether good or evil wins out is by making us watch a contrived situation (!) about convicts versus "good people" battling it out on the bay ... I wanted to blow both boats up. I was so angry! Not only have we seen a million scenes like that a million times, it was just ... oh, I've worked myself up.

But, I will leave us with one of the best scenes, the interrogation scene.

5 a.m., Sunday, `Oh, I should watch that screener,' Amazing: Dear Zachary

It was about 5a.m. when I awoke.

"Sheesh, it's a Sunday. What am I to do?" I question myself.

I knew I couldn't go back to bed.

"Oohh, I have that screener I have to watch. What better time than now?" I probably said aloud, to myself.

It was "Dear Zachary." It's about a movie-maker whose best friend is dead. This is a documentary, mind you, and he's endeavored on a project that's going to lead him down already-hard paths -- but now, he finds the most tragic, tear-inducing, upsetting, horrible!!!!, misery-making, news mid-filmmaking. He carries on. True passion is seen, it's taken hold of. And ... it's just, mind-blowing that he was able to follow through. Kurt Kuenne is going to find a personal e-mail in his inbox from me ... and if people see his movie, he'll find multitudes more.

I'm going to be writing the review, so I can't write too much. But. It was ... well, I know my final line: "Filmmakers can only hope for this type of product. You've set a goal and, you've achieved it."

It's not only about the death of his best friend ... the woman who's killed him fled to Canada and we watch the horrible, inefficient extradition process unfold. We see that she ... well, no, no more unfolding. It'll be left for the review.

But I couldn't help but write that if you see, hear, read or ... whatever ... about the movie... If you want anger and upset at the judicial system -- err, life -- you should see it. I don't know what the release will be like, but ... oy.

It's so very worth it.

On a more happy note, I spent yesterday in Brooklyn with a writer friend and she liked Luke. Maybe that's what I should channel my energy towards, instead of watching movies that will lay all faith in humanity to rest.

I'll search more for the trailer of Dear Zachary (it's being updated on the site) later, but I urge anyone to check it out. But probably not at 5am on a Sunday morning ... I'm going to sit on my hands all day now because of it, I know. Wow.

Faith in Humanity (?), Workplace, and Rudy, Rudy, Rudy!

Oh, the guilt.

"I've reserved a room for us at 1p.m. I've really thought about it and I'd like to hear more about how you're feeling."

(You would?)

We had our talk. A long, cathartic one.

I let it out -- again, twice in one day! All of it. Sure, I couldn't really meet his eye, but boy did I ramble.

Problems with motivation. Unrequited enthusiasm! No acknowledgment of effort!!

"Morgan, I didn't mean to be unenthusiastic about your ideas. I just ... I just ... AH! I SEND OUT EMAILS ALL THE TIME asking people for original ideas!!! I WANT to be producing original stuff. But no one responds. [hypothetical tear]. Well, you do ... but ... It's just frustrating. I have to DEAL with all these people ... and no one ... Well ..."

CUT TO

My face, recognizing his frustration. Mouth, agape.

Gasp. (Internal: We do have a lot of duds hanging around.)

"Morgan, I think you're brilliant. I really do."

(Aw, ... oh, gosh ... come here you big lug.)

"I think you just need to communicate better." (Sting! Yes, yes it's true. In so many ways.)

"TELL ME when you stay late. Come in late the next day! Even if you don't, know that you can. TELL ME when you're reviewing. I didn't even know 'til recently!!" (Well, I told you. One point for me, but also, point taken.)

Faith in humanity a bit restored. Kind of like the first time you watched "Rudy."




Friend just said: i want the non filtered version. not just the blog stuff.

That's strangely how it went.

Fleeting Faith in Humanity, Idiot Chihuahua and The Shining

A part of me died today.

It happens pretty often, as I tend to walk around with an annoying woe-is-me, weight-of-the-world mentality, (something I should work on).

But this is really, really bad.

I was skimming my Google Movie blogs, searching for a Slice of news to offer about the upcoming Martin Scorsese and Robert DeNiro collaboration (!!) when I was slapped in the face with the horrifying news that "Beverly Hills Chihuahua" was NUMBER ONE at the box office this weekend. $29 million worth of worthless tickets were sold.



I just ... I just ... I'm speechless. As if I weren't already scared enough for the U.S., now my fleeting faith in humanity has me feeling like Wendy hiding in the bathroom as Jack comes after her with the axe. (In "The Shining.") If I don't read good things about the Scorsese/Deniro movie, I may be too depressed to move.