Nobody Here

"nor shall private property be taken for public use, without just compensation. "
- Fifth Amendment, United States Constitution

"Susette Kelo and several other homeowners in a working-class neighborhood in New London, Connecticut, filed suit after city officials announced plans to raze their homes for a riverfront hotel, health club and offices... private development plans..."
http://www.cnn.com/2005/LAW/06/23/scotus.property.ap/index.html

The AFI recently did a little listie thing ranking the top 100 best movie quotes, and although their top 10 is a bit off, snaps to them for getting Nobody puts Baby in the corner on the top 100. UV had a post about it, and I said, when I have time, I’ll post a movie quote quiz. Because hey, aren’t great lines part of what makes a story great? Anyway it turns out I don’t have time at all, but once I had to take this mandatory corporate-sponsored time management class at a meeting, and the lady teaching it kept saying “You have all the time there is,” by which she meant, there’s the same amount of time in every day – you “have time” for whatever you choose to do with it. At least, I think that’s what she meant. I wasn’t paying full attention, because I was sitting in the back of the room somewhat surreptitiously gabbing with my friend G., whose first initial I’m using to protect her identity on account of she still works for the same company and garsh only knows how much trouble she’d get in if they found out she wasn’t paying attention during their unnecessarily expensive time management class. I believe it was that very same meeting where G. got a bigbig scolding for sitting beside the wrong people at the team dinner that night, so you can see just what kind of ruffian she is. Bad influence all around. Which brings me to my choice to have time for this.

So. Here are 13 lines from movies. Not TV shows, not miniseries, not even HBO, but actual theater-shown cinematic films. Not the best, the easiest, or the hardest, just the first 13 that occurred to me (although I did go on to verify them to make sure I had them right).

Rules. Simple. All you need to identify is the title of the movie. Bonus points for additional identifying info such as character who spoke the line, actor who spoke the line, and how they get back to Bacon in six steps or less. NO LOOKING ANYTHING UP. Answers posted Tuesday.

1. I’ve always been considered an asshole for about as long as I can remember. That’s just my style.

2. I'm saying that the right man for you might be out there right now and if you don't grab him, someone else will, and you'll have to spend the rest of your life knowing that someone else is married to your husband.

3. Chicks dig me, because I rarely wear underwear and when I do it's usually something unusual.

4. Pain heals, chicks dig scars, but glory lasts forever.

5. Welcome to the desert of the real.

6. We are number one. All others are number two, or lower.

7. Well you’re about as useful as a poopie-flavored lollipop.

8. Oh, that's a relief. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to use the "Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire" defense.

9. We're the sons of peasants. Glory, and riches, and stars are beyond our grasps. But a full stomach, that dream can come true.

10. I am Jack’s raging bile duct.

11. If you were gonna fight them, why didn't you fight them back there? We got snacks now!

12. When you read a book as a child, it becomes a part of your identity in a way that no other reading in your whole life does.

13. It's not a good day to be a bad guy.

Next to New England, The South can probably boast the largest number of great American writers. Harper Lee and William Faulkner can give you beautiful, deeply insightful glimpses of this region of the country. I can't. I'm not a great writer, and I've only been in The South a week (okay, technically I lived below the Mason-Dixon line when I was in Virginia, but DC is a Northeastern city in just about every respect, excepting the bizarre custom of Civil War battle reenactments).

Still, in keeping with the cliché of writing what you know, here is what I know so far:

Absolutely everybody here is nice. I'm disturbed by this, and it makes me suspicious. What do you suppose they want?

It’s hot. The mutants with the nice gene do not seem to understand this, and they’re all out there walking around in pants. I’m walking around in pants too, because my legs are all bruised up, and they look gross, but these people are wearing pants and not looking all hot and sweaty and frizzy in the head. In fact, their hair looks totally normal. I suspect they’re using pork fat to smooth it.

There’s a church on, like, every corner. They’ve got more prayer here than a Kansas courthouse.

Sausage gravy is very big. I still have no idea what’s actually in it. They eat it for breakfast. I haven’t seen anything so frightening, food-wise, since I was in the UK and a very nice but clearly insane lady served me baked beans with my breakfast. I’m not saying biscuits and gravy aren’t good, mind you. They’re just scary and good, like The Sixth Sense or Danny Elfman’s voice on the Nightmare Before Christmas soundtrack.

Sidewalks, not so much.

Street signs are often clear, and most people signal before turning. It’s like they’re not even trying to confuse you.

It’s easy to find vegetarian-friendly places – well, you still eat bacon grease and lard, right?

The bugs are unnaturally large.

The sky is unnaturally blue.

Sweet tea is not the same thing as iced tea.

Ordering something other than sweet tea with any meal is a gaffe on the level of picking your nose and wiping it on the tablecloth.

My favorite thing so far: Charlotte is full of trees. Even the suburbs are pretty thanks to them. The vinyl villages and urban sprawl I disliked in Northern Virginia are well masked by towering, lovely old trees that humans have miraculously left unscathed.

Once we get settled in we’re going to plan a trip up to Asheville, where Zelda tried to get well and George Vanderbilt built a little house. I’m hoping it’ll be something like Lenox Massachusetts, which I love and miss. It’s something everyone does, I think: try to make the new place fit the old one. That’s what makes Starbucks so comforting.

Speaking of which, there is no Dunkin’ Donuts down here, and I do not get all this fuss about Krispy Kreme. Krispy Kreme is gross. I know that much is true.

*Do I even need to say the post title was ripped off from Spandau Ballet?

It's finally happened. I've closed on my house. Keys in hand. There may be a short interruption to my connectivity while we get things set up. You all have fabulous weekends.

P.S. for PJ if you read this: the kitchen looks great!

A couple of posts back (which for this blog is about a year and a half ago), I mentioned playing on the field you've chosen, or taking your ball someplace else if you don't like it. A dear friend of mine did the latter a few weeks ago. She decided, for a number of reasons, to go the POD route with one of her books.

She ended up going with iUniverse, and found out today they chose her book for the Editor's Choice. This is a hard designation to get in the iUniverse world, and gives her all sorts of perks that will get her book more exposure. Does that mean you'll see it on the cover of the New York Times Book Review next week? Well, no, probably not. I know - as, obviously, does she - that self-publishing comes with a set of not-small challenges.

I don't know enough about, well, anything, to either praise or criticize self-publishing. My only position on it is that it's a lot like the debate about being a stay-at-home or work-outside-the-home mom: I don't get why peeps get so caught up in judging the choices of other peeps who are really the only ones in a position to know what's best for their situation. All I'm saying is, hurrah for her for deciding what she wanted for this manuscript, and then pursuing it instead of playing the victim.

Plus, it's a fabulous book. As soon as she has a website up, I'll be hawking it here.

Grace tagged me with a meme that actually seems pretty hard, but since I reallyreally need a break, I'm going to be a good tagee and do it right off.

3 names you go by:
Jen
Jenny
Um... Aunt Jenny. Mommy.

3 screennames you’ve had:
Yah, like I'm really gonna give you freaks my messenger screen names so you can, like, bug me and stuff. I don't use screen names for anything else, unless you want to count the nobody thing I've got going on on my blog.

3 physical things you like about yourself:
I'm healthy
I have the use of all 5 senses and all of my limbs
I'm fleet of foot. Ok not really, but it would be cool if I were.

3 physical things you dislike about yourself:
I don't like my nose much. When I was 10 my Aunt Fran told me it didn't suit my face. I've been really worried about it ever since. My hair is bugging me too, cause I need a cut. My feet are kind of big.

3 parts of your heritage:
German
Irish
Italian

3 things you are wearing right now:
Pink t-shirt with Where The Wild Things Are guys on it
Computer glasses
Frown

3 favorite bands / musical artists:
Squirrel Nut Zippers
Sting
Smokey Robinson

3 (random) favorite songs:
"If I Ever Lose My Faith in You" (Sting)
"Thunder Road" (Springsteen)
"I Second That Emotion" (Smokey)

3 things you want in a relationship:
3? I want everything, dur.

3 physical things about the preferred sex that appeal to you:
Brains
Willingness to laugh
A nice broad chest doesn't hurt

3 of your favorite hobbies:
Reading
Walking my dog
Cooking

3 things you want to do really badly right now:
Go to bed
Take a vacation
Be done moving

3 of your everyday essentials:
Not counting people, computer, sweets, shower

3 careers you have considered or are considering:
Teacher
Writer
Kept woman

3 places you want to go on vacation:
St. John
Scotland
New Zealand

3 kids’ names you like:
My daughter's name
If I had a boy he'd have been William, no matter what my husband says. To be called Will, but never Bill, Billy, or Willy.
I don't really have another, but Grace has extra, so it evens out

3 things you want to do before you die:
Raise my daughter
Publish a novel
See the Red Sox win the World Series. Hey! One down!

3 ways you are stereotypically a boy:
I swear a lot
I love baseball
I hate shopping

3 ways you are stereotypically a chick:
I cry for non-sad reasons (movies, weddings, songs, etc.)
I like to cook and bake
I put the toilet seat in its proper position

3 celeb crushes:
Hugh Jackman
Colin Firth
Sodapop

I'm not tagging anybody, because whenever I do they hate me for it. If you want to do it, say I tagged you. Or just answer the ones you like in comments.

I've always thought of romance novels as potato chips. They aren't meant to feed you, they're meant to taste good. And I'm baffled by people who don't recognize the value of snacks. I know a guy who refuses to read anything not churned out by some boring MFA, yet thinks nothing of watching E! News and Survivor. Go figure.

Either way, snack or not, I think we can all agree that you don't just go putting out a crappy book and saying "Eh, it isn't meant to be literary, so, like, whatever." As my brilliant friend Paula will tell you, romances should be written well. And I'm not even talking about the usual fodder for romance ridicule, the racier scenes (which frankly, for my personal taste, I'd never expect to find anything other than silly and skip-worthy). I'm talking about basics. Like plot. And spelling.

Gripe in point: Heather Graham's Haunted. To be fair, I've never read anything else of Graham's, and I see she's got a lot out there. Maybe her other stuff is good, and everyone has their off days. Maybe her deadline was too tight, or her shoes were three sizes too small, or something. But I can only judge this book, and it reads like a phone-in from a bored writer trading on her established brand name. It's full of editing errors and typos. The main characters are flat, and everything they do, separately and together, is formula-predictable. The secondary characters, including the villain and a purportedly terrifying ghost, are nothing more than names on a page, not drawn well enough to have even one dimension. The "thriller" aspect is anything but, and that's before you realize - with a roll of your eyes and from a mile off - that it's about to make use of the most worn-out cliché in all of thrillerdom.

This is not a Lay's potato chip. It's one of those yucky, slightly soggy ones the cheap delis put in their boxed lunches.