Tag Archives: iPhone

Shark Apocalypse

28 Feb

A few months ago my family and I caught the 2009 apolcaypse film, 2012. YouTube – 2012 – Official Trailer 3.

It was pretty good. As disaster films go, this one was right up there. If you haven’t seen it, you should. It’s got the whole ancient Mayan thing portending doom, innumerable narrow escapes (including my favorite: a small 4-seater plane taking off as an entire city below is swallowed by the sea), cold-hearted government operatives, giant waves rolling jumbo jets and aircraft carriers onto destroyed oceanside cities, and even an appearance of an updated, sci-fi version of Noah’s Arc.

Good stuff.

So good we were inspired to make a disaster movie of our own.

What follows is the result of a Sunday afternoon, a box of old Barbies dressed in original duct tape fashions (circa 2007), a 14-year-old director, and an iPhone.

I’ll warn you, you may find yourself somewhat overcome after watching it, your eyes squeezed behind your clenched fist wondering, “Why? Oh why?”

That’s to be expected.

And please, don’t be jealous. Not everyone can have this kind of talent. We can’t all be like Spielberg or have the blood of Scorsese coursing through our veins in quite this way.

And so, without further ado, I give you:

2012: When the Mayans Got it Wrong

Advertisements

Say What?

28 Apr

No one likes getting older. I’ve yet to meet a woman who can’t wait to turn 40, or someone whose skin tingles with a warm, fuzzy feeling when it’s finally time to make that colonoscopy appointment.  (“This afternoon, on a very special Leave it to Beaver…”)

But it happens to all of us. Whether you’re easing into your 30’s, slowly realizing that your body can’t handle hot wings, curly fries and a six pack of Milwaukee’s Best three times a week, or you’re passing into your 40’s and find yourself waking up slack-jawed with drool oozing down the side of your face at 9:30 pm most nights, blinking at your kid as you fumble for the remote, it happens.

And sometimes, even if you do come to grips with all of those adjustments that your aging body is throwing your way year after year, your fun new failings can have strange effects on others.

For example, my gradual hearing loss is a constant source of frustration for my daughter. It’s hard for her when she’s talking to me. Poor thing. Sometimes she has to stop shouting from upstairs, come all the way into the same room as me and actually turn off the music that hangs around her, thumping and blaring like a raging storm cloud of rock and pop.

And even then, if she’s not looking at me, there are times when I honestly still can’t hear what she’s saying.

All of this has led her to believe that I am faking.

At first I was offended. Who would lie about something like that? Then I was hurt. Have I failed as a mother? What kind of person does she think I am? What other stuff does she think I am lying about?  And then I was angry. How dare she?  Are you kidding me? Grounded for life!  But mostly, I was just confusedWhy would I do that? It didn’t make any sense.

This battle has raged on, sporadically, for almost a year. Sometimes it ends in laughter, sometimes, well…not so much. It usually depends on the tone of her accusation.

But something occurred to me today; a lightbulb blinked on, answering that nagging question of why.

She thinks I’m faking it to make her life miserable.

Of course.  It makes perfect sense.  Because last year, just after her 13th birthday, a little man inside her head reached up and flipped the switch that controls her ability to reason.  And then this evil little troll (to me he looks like Russell on Survivor) took an eraser and, looking back over his humped shoulders, laughed just before he wiped all of her common sense from the chalkboard in her brain.  And now, there is nothing in there but iPhone apps and the Smashing Pumpkins.

If you could look in her head, I swear you’d see me spending my days huddled in a dark corner at home, laughing as I concocted new ways to make her life miserable.

Sometimes I forget.

So from now on, when she accuses me of faking, I will take it as a compliment.  After all, anyone who would literally fake hearing loss to annoy and agitate their teenage daughter is taking it to a completely new level. Who knew I had so much game? It’s actually genius.

And I’m really sorry, but you’ll have to excuse me now. I have to get back to work; there’s a dark corner with my name on it.