Attack of the Norovirus!

“Open your eyes.”

“If I open my eyes I’m gonna throw up.”

“I need you to open your eyes and follow my finger.”

“I told you if I open my eyes I’m gonna throw up.”

“Why are your eyes closed? Is your head spinning? Are you dizzy?”

“No.”

“Then why won’t you open your eyes?”

“Because if I open my eyes I’m gonna throw up.” (Is there something unclear about gonna throw up?)

“Can you sit up for me?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because if I sit up I’m gonna throw up. If I move my little finger I’m gonna throw up. Pretty much if I breathe I’m gonna throw up.”

No, seriously folks, that’s kind of how it was and as I lay on the gurney in the ER I totally grasped why the elderly and the very young die of Norovirus. How terrible. I was thinking I might die of Norovirus and if I didn’t die of the virus I was hoping my friend, super secret agent, Tom Stronach, would hop on the red-eye from London and, well, take pity on me and do his thang. That’s how sick I felt. This virus knocks you flat. You go from feeling normal to out cold on the floor in like… thirty minutes. It’s kind of how I imagine a cholera epidemic would be. I pity anyone who catches this nasty bug.

Here’s how it happened. At 7:45 a.m. I loaded the dog into the car to drive to the park for our hike. I felt a little off. Nothing I could put my finger on, just a little off. I decided, because I felt a little off, to make a quick stop at the neighborhood market which opens at 7:30 a.m. for moms who’ve forgotten to pack lunches for their kids. I drove two blocks, picked up a Coca-Cola, took a couple sips, thought, hmmmm, this isn’t really helping, but still… just a little off. I pulled out of the lot, headed in the other direction toward the park. I got less than half a mile and I realized I had to turn around, like, right now.

So I says, “Jake, we’re turning around right now.”

And he’s like… “WTF???”

It took me maybe two minutes to drive home and by the time I pulled into the garage I was already reduced to crawling into the house. That’s how fast this hit.

So, Penny Watson will be happy to learn I did eventually open my eyes and followed my physician’s finger with my eyes. He was really attractive with the cutest little soul patch. She woulda crushed on him big time.

As a nurse, I couldn’t help but listen to everything going on around me. Force of habit. The 26 year old with obscene nausea and vomiting - welcome to my world, honey. I feel you. The two unrelated seizure disorders- both men had bitten through their tongues and needed them stitched- one man had managed to create his own forked tongue. The elderly woman who’d fallen and sustained a probable fractured humerus. The drug addict who stopped by to say hey to the staff and thank them for saving him from an overdose the previous week. The cardiac event of some sort, probably a myocardial infarction (heart attack, 12-lead EKG showing significant S-T elevation- just showing off now).

Gotta say hi to my girl Jaye. She tried to reach me all day long with worried chat thingies.

So listen, I’m not usually sick. Remember that. I’m sick of talking about being sick. This is the last of it for 2013, right? Because 2013 is my good luck year. I was born on a Friday the 13th so this odd start to the year is an anomaly. Besides, it could always be worse. One of my kids’ favorite Yiddish folktales.

Oh, and I am fascinated by this pope-choosing endeavor. I hope they pick a good one. (As you can tell, I have way too much time on my hands.)

 

 

 

 

 

Wouldn’t Wish It on My Worst Enemy. Or Would I?

Nah. I’m not that vindictive. This Noro Virus. Hellaciously bad. Already been in the hospital. So now I’m in a chair, unable to be more than ten feet from a bathroom, watching the Vatican Poperization.

It’s kinda cool the way the retiring Pope climbed into his high tech helicopter and flew off while tweeting in Latin from his cell phone. Now that is the modern church. I just hope those involved in choosing the new Pope pick a good one.

You might think it doesn’t matter to a Jew, but really it does matter. It may matter more to me than to a lot of Catholics I know.

So the dog is all depressed because I can’t take him anywhere. I’ve stripped my bed to wash the germs out of my sheets. Jake decided it was a good opportunity to muddy up my mattress.

My poor depressed GSD.

Hope I’ll be back to normal by next week. This long string of illnesses totally sucks eggs.

Why Jennifer Lawrence?

Jennifer Lawrence.

Jennifer Lawrence.

Because, goddamn it, she shoulda won for Winter’s Bone!

Winters Bone.

Because she’s the next best thing.

Remember Sissy in Urban Cowboy? A movie I happen to think was vastly underrated. That was my first introduction to Debra Winger and I knew, I just knew I was watching the next best thing.

Sissy, Debra Winger

Sissy, Debra Winger

Well, that’s Jennifer Lawrence.

When my eyes are riveted on one person, stuck on a single on-screen presence, that actress or actor is beyond beyond.

Flight = Redemption. Who Will Save Whip’s Soul?

Flight

***Warning: If you have a deep-seated fear of flying like I do don’t watch this movie. Or if you really want to watch this movie, from the time the plane is cleared for take-off go into another room, put on noise canceling headphones, and wait until someone you love and trust gives you the all-clear.

I’m already freaking out because the next time I travel by air my pilot may not know how to fly a plane upside down.

This movie is not what you think. It’s absolutely the right stuff and absolutely annoying as hell, both at the same time.

I’ll try to keep the Spoilers to a minimum but stop right now if you don’t want to read any Spoilers.

***

The right stuff: Denzel Washington and his amazing incredible uncanny ability to possess a character, Whip Whitaker, to inhabit the body and soul of a washed-up, degenerate, substance abusing loser; a miserable excuse for a man/boy-flying-wonder who manages to pull off a miracle with panache.

(Soul is the operative word here - more later.)

Not so right: No obvious or less than obvious reason for Whip Whitaker to be an asshole, his divorce notwithstanding - It is made clear to the viewer that his assholiness predated the divorce.

The right stuff: Secondary players.

Not so right: Secondary players. It wasn’t the acting. The acting was fine. It was the archetypes that bugged me-

1. If all drug dealers spouted corn pone quips and dealt down-home wisdom as readily as John Goodman’s over the top, Harling Mays, we’d all be using cocaine whether we were piloting a commercial airplane or cooking up a tasty pot roast. He makes it look that good.

2. The holy roller co-pilot and his Stepford Wife. Good for siccing on zombies in the post-apocalyptic world because God save us all from the wrath of the righteous, but otherwise they were useless and, frankly, offensive characters.

3. Slimy lawyer. Speaking as the daughter of a lawyer I have to ask- Must all cinematic lawyers (except in some John Grisham movies) be portrayed as slime balls?

4. The beautiful down on her luck junkie/heroine addict who, unfortunately, added nothing to the story. Her inclusion into the Whip Whitaker saga was a bit like watching parallel play in childhood. Two side by side stories, neither contributing much to the other. She was a symbol. She never assumed any more flesh and blood than her one-dimensional photo.

The right stuff: A suspension of disbelief. I’m going to give the director and the actors mega-props for the outrageous flight scenes.

Not so right: A suspension of disbelief.

1. Pilots, and all others associated with safety in the airline industry, are drug tested- regularly and randomly. A man who drinks heavily and uses drugs, and has done so every single day - before, during and after flights - over a twenty year period - would have been caught at some point in time. Especially because Whip’s drinking and drug use were not secret. The flight crew and other pilots were aware of his issues.

2. Even the most seasoned alcoholic cannot drink as much as Whip Whitaker does in a single sitting without:

a. Passing out behind the wheel of a car, and elsewhere.

b. Suffering recurring bouts of alcohol poisoning requiring emergency intervention which if left untreated would lead to…

c. Death from alcohol poisoning.

It’s simply not possible to suspend disbelief on this one. Trust me.

Now we come to the part about redemption. Because at its heart, that’s what this movie is all about.

Who will save Whip’s soul?

When push comes to shove, will Whip save his soul or will he save his own ass?

The question is answered by borrowing from such disparate places as a film like Brendan Fraser’s Bedazzled, a play like Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman, and even the television series Battlestar Galactica.

I’m referring to Willie Loman’s disintegration and descent into the depths of hell. Elliot Richard’s meeting with God in his jail cell. Gaius Baltar, the ultimate trickster figure, and his ever faithful sidekick, Caprica Six, with her oft-repeated whisper- “You are made in God’s image…”

These sources provide the answers Whip seeks in Flight.

Unnecessary: Gratuitous full frontal nudity in the opening scene. As hubs said in the beginning, “Oh my, that’s the earliest nipple shown in any movie… ever.” While in the end he said, “That nude scene contributed nothing to the story. This would have been a PG 13 rated film without it.”

But the nude scene is probably why some people will now hurry to watch it.

Interesting mini factoid: Tamara Tunie (flight attendant Margaret Thomason) got her start on As the World Turns. She sure landed a plum role. She’s great in Flight.

 

The Secret Sex Lives of…

Guppies.

Sexy Guppy!

Did you know guppy males employ wing men? So guppy guys hang out with less attractive guppy guys to attract females. How do you like those apples?

From Australian Geographic:

Guppies Hang with Ugly Friends to Look Hotter.

“IF YOU FOUND YOURSELF all alone on Valentine’s day, maybe the problem is that you’re hanging out with the wrong people – or the wrong fish. A new study has found that given the choice, male guppies will socialise with other, less attractive males to maximise their chance of mating.

“This finding, published this week in the Proceedings of the Royal Society B journal, may explain why guppy populations haven’t evolved to consist of only brightly coloured males.

“We have shown for the first time that males are really able to choose the most appropriate [social] context that maximises their attractiveness,” says co-author Dr Clelia Gasparini, an evolutionary biologist at the University of Western Australia in Perth.

“Researchers have long known that female guppies (Poecilia reticulata) compare their suitors, opting for the most colourful males. And while it was suspected that males could exploit this by choosing a social group that made them stand out from the crowd, until now there has been no hard evidence of the behaviour.

“Clelia and her collaborators observed the behaviour when they presented individual male guppies with a choice of two females, each surrounded by a group of males.”

Another study by a CSU student: The Impact of Predation Risk on Boldness in Guppies- Sex Matters.

According to the young researcher, female guppies are much bolder than males.

“Half the guppies were raised with constant predator cues (the smell of a predator) and half without. The females were equally as bold whether they were raised in the predator environment. While the males raised without the predator smell were bolder than the males who were raised with it.”

But you already knew that, right? Females are much more courageous than males!