The (K)Night is Darkest Just Before the Dawn

Yesterday was an awesome day. The Dark Knight premiered, and we had tickets for the IMAX at high noon! I was really excited to see it, and it was even more fun to go with Gillian, the Ultimate Fangirl. Plus, since I've been reading the now-classic Batman graphic novels, I feel so educated about the story and the characters, which sounds nerdy, but makes it even better!

And we were (sort-of accidentally) First In Line, which meant that we had the best seats in the IMAX hiz-ouse! Do I even have to say that the movie was incredible? No, I didn't think so.

Then, Bite of Seattle & the Fresh Impressionists exhibit at SAM. It was okay... I'm just so spoiled, having been to France many a time and seeking out & seeing tons of impressionist works. The point of the exhibit was to show how some of the Great Masters of Impressionism were influenced by previous artists... which I feel is a bit of a "duh." It was cool to go to SAM though, because I hadn't been since I was young, and the only thing I remembered was a sculpture of a toilet, complete with excrement (yes, that's how little I was- the poo made the biggest impression on me).

I dropped Gillian off and went to my parent's house and had a great dinner. They just got back from MT and brought a box full of old photos to go through, courtesy of Big Teeny. I found proof of my inner superhero, even as a youngster; I'll leave you with that.

I Left a Spot in my Harte for You

Yesterday I was looking for one of my favorite quotes of all time: this short, beautiful bit of wisdom spoken by Le Petit Prince by Antoine de Saint Exupéry. Instead of going straight to the "interweb," as Tracy Jordan says, I reached for my tattered second-generation copy, which originally belonged to my mother.

As I was skimming through the book, I found the funniest little thing tucked between pages 76 and 77. A valentine, meant for my mother, from god-knows-when:

Now, I know that this was meant for my mother and not by my mother, because she would NEVER spell "heart" incorrectly. In fact, we have this gene in our family that's been passed down to both my sister and I that we refer to as "the human dictionary gene." We are all naturally great spellers, and my mom is the best. So some poor boy crafted this little gem with red and purple crayons and gave it to my mom, not knowing that he misspelled harte. I mean heart. Tee hee.

Oh, if only it were that easy... what if we adults could just make little paper hearts that say "Be Mine" and pass them to our crushes...

p.s. The quote, if you'd like to know: "Voici mon secret. Il est très simple: on ne voit bien qu’avec le cœur. L’essentiel est invisible pour les yeux." (Translation: "Here is my secret. It's very easy: it is only with the heart that one can see rightly. What is essential is invisible to the eyes.")

I've NEVER Felt Like This Before

Okay, so I know that I just put this guy's stuff up recently, but I just love him. I think this is one of his very best (except the part about the porcupine thing...). More to come, hilarishizzlers.

Oops, it's Donnie Hoyle, not Donnie Boyle

You Suck at Photoshop #11 is available! I'm gonna have to check out Horrible People next...

Vive la France!

It's July first, and I'm in a great mood. For many reasons, really: it's summer, the weather is pleasant, I can ride my bike any time I want, I just finished and then started a new book, I'm listening to Marge music, and I'm feeling happy and optimistic, seeing the potential in the world. I don't really have much more to say than that.

I think the only way I would feel even better is if I was... in Paris. Truly. Looking at Paris Daily Photo today, I just had this longing to be among "my people." The many misconceptions Americans have about Parisians, and the French in general, really annoy me. And hey, I'll be the first to imitate the French (speaking in my killer French-person-speaking-English accent, pretending to puff away on my cigarette as I discuss the meaning of life at Les Deux Magots), but that's different from griping about their "rudeness" and "inhospitableness" (is that a word? well, I don't care, because you know what I mean). That is a bunch of garbage. I just adore French culture, and I'm missing the country and losing my French daily.... Do you have a place that you feel is your "home away from home" or your "cultural mecca" or "where you belong"? Just curious.


Time for a video clip: Le Jour des Canards

Quelle belle ville! Merci, wikipedia.