Channel Surfing with Dr G and Mary Louise

How come Dr. G doesn't have a Christmas Special?

Our intrepid forensics pathologist could be decked out in candy striped scrubs, perhaps a dead-but-decorated tree in the corner of the morgue (one of last year's models).  And holiday-themed corpses rolling in on twinkling-lighted gurneys, all set for their holly jolly standard Y incision.

A little eggnog with your Yuletide autopsies?  Why thank you!

And who're we wheeling under the mistletoe for the good doctor?  Perhaps a department store Santa who drops dead of a heart attack right in the middle of some little tyke sitting on his lap rattling off his Christmas wish list?  Or a guy who electrocutes himself while attempting to string up his outdoor Xmas Lights?  A man impaled when one of his roof-top reindeer decorations comes crashing down onto him, antlers first?  For the kids, how about a baby mauled to death by a barnyard goat during the manager scene of a church Christmas pageant?  Ho-ho-ho!  I think if anyone could make this work, our Dr. G could.  Medical Examiners celebrate the holidays too, I'm sure.  In their own special way.

Switching from Dr. G ...

I ended up watching a great Mary Louise Parker flick from 1994, Naked In New York.  I'm always thrilled when I stumble across a Mary Louise movie I haven't yet seen.  It's the next best thing to being there, as an AT&T commercial once explained.  Eric Stoltz and the Karate Kid are also featured in this b-movie and they're both likable enough.  Eric's been in some great movies over the years (Mask, The Waterdance, Some Kind of Wonderful, Pulp Fiction, Hi-Life), and of course Ralph Macchio had his one-two punch of Outsider Johnny and Karate Kid that cemented his place in the pantheon of 80's schlock greatness. (By the way, you can neatly tie together Ralph's work through references made by Matt Dillon characters.  As Dallas Winston in the Outsiders: "Let's do it for Johnny, Man!" - through to his role as Pat Healy in Something About Mary: "You know the classics - like Harold and Maude and the Karate Kid?".  But I digress.  And my Member's Only Jacket is clearly showing.)


These clowns are merely fodder, though; props to give my gal something to do, someone to interact with.  But Mary Louise ... man.  She continues to slay me.  I would kill for her.  Christ ... I sound like John Hinkley. (Jodie Foster?  Really, John?  Maybe 1990 Silence of the Lambs edition but certainly not the 1976 Taxi Driver model.  And as it turned out, you didn't stand a chance, even if she had been into insane loner killers.  She'd probably pass you by for Aileen Woornos.)  

Of course, my devotion is just good old fashioned healthy lust.  And I wouldn't literally kill for her.  After all, I don't own a gun and don't much care for knives.  So I speak of course only metaphorically.  But I would totally give somebody a real piece of my mind for her.  A real tongue lashing.  For sure.

Proactive Procrastination

Ahh, December.  The month of lists - the best and worst of the year ending and predictions for the year to begin.  It's also the month where many of us begin to take stock of personal accomplishments (or lack thereof) and to devise goals for the new year.  And of course many come in the form of the dreaded New Year's Resolutions.  As for me, there are definitely some things I need to get straight in my mind and then translate to action come 2010.

For instance ...

Cherry Coke Zero is not water, despite containing it.  It is not nearly as good for me, especially when consumed by the gallon on a daily basis.  Though probably much better than gin or beer or rat poison, certainly at the volume we're talking about here.  So I'm getting closer but have some work to do still.

Watching A&E's Sell This House does not constitute actually going about selling my house.

Vitamins provide no nutritional value unless I actually ingest them (glancing at the bottle sitting on the windowsill of the bathroom each morning doesn't qualify).  Vitamins are generally overrated but given my piss poor diet, they certainly can't hurt.

Though technically "exercise", traversing the "treacherous" staircase connecting the first and second floors of my house is not exactly scaling Everest.  Though to be fair, I have no Sherpa to guide me and generally make the journey without aid of supplemental oxygen (thus far).  Still, I need to develop and stick to a regular - and more importantly, real - exercise regiment.

Really I'm just being proactive in devising my list of New Year's resolutions I plan on subsequently ignoring, rather than waiting until the last minute to do so, as is my normal M.O.

Anyway, I usually throw up my Chinese New Year dodge when January 1st arrives, giving myself another several weeks of guilt-free procrastination.  Sort of like the groundhog seeing his shadow - it means ~six more weeks of last year.  Then the dragons dance down Arch Street in Chinatown here in Philly, the firecrackers explode, The Year of the Something turns the page to The Year of the Something Else and the guilt kicks in full stride: the gym not joined, the junk food not trimmed down, the house not repaired/cleaned/sold (or repaired and cleaned so that it might be sold).

But I will get a haircut today.  So there's that.  And I did go for a run yesterday (well, more a trot).  Baby steps.

And the upcoming year will be different!  After all, Chinese New Year 2010 is the Year of the Tiger and so was 1962, the year I was born.  That surely means something (it only happens every 12 years, according to the last menu I read).  Plus it falls on Valentines Day and that's gotta be some sort of sign too (besides the introduction of the Vermont Teddy Dragon - or Teddy Tiger - to complement their Teddy Bear).

The end of this god awful "00s" decade means it's time to start fresh.
Who knows?  I might just go crazy and get a hair cut and go for a run every month next year.