Name This Image!

And the winner is:







Blood Oath

Thanks to everyone who sent suggestions, I'll let you know how the contest turns out.

Tamela

The Big Squeeze

I promised myself, and some other folks that I would write this post. You see, in a few weeks, I'll be turning 37. This, believe it or not, is a bit of a milestone for women. For it falls neatly between 35 and the big 4-0. It is also the time, when the medical industry begins to gear you up for middle age. And so, it came to pass, that in the early days of September, I dids't go forth unto the Imaging Center, and have my very fist mammogram.

It started as a normal doctor visit. Walk in, tell the half-interested person behind the counter who I am and, more importantly, who my insurance carrier is. Fill out paperwork, then sit down with a magazine and wait. And wait. And wait. Just when it seemed certain that the appointment would indeed make me late for work, wonder of wonders they called my name.

So back I went into a smaller waiting room where I was presented with...more paperwork. The nurse pointed me in the direction of the changing room and instructed me to remove the upper clothing and put on a gown so that it opens in the front. Not unreasonable, except that the gown in question had only one usable tie and it was at the very top. Not exactly modest, folks.

So, the nurse comes for me and down the bizarrely decorated hallway I go, clutching my gown and staring about, and am led into the room where sits: (cue scary music) THE MACHINE.

I've heard stories. In fact, I think that there is an unspoken tradition amongst women that states that when describing such things as childbirth, yearly "well woman" exams, and mammograms to another, younger woman who has not experienced these things, we must do everything in our power to scare the bejeezus out of her. Perhaps it is in our nature to prepare one another for the worst, or just out and out cruelty. At any rate, the stories I had heard about this procedure ran the gamut from "excrutiating" to "extremely uncomfortable", with few details in between. Here, is what actually happened.

First off, let me point out that, despite the fact that the nurse (female, thankfully) is quite literally handling me, and is REQUIRED to stare directly at the exposed breast (which can burn the retinas of any unprotected male eye, btw) every attempt is made to ensure the patient's modesty. The gown was never fully removed, only one side at a time. Sweet, really. Absurd, but sweet.

We got straight down to business. I was informed that there would be a total of four images taken, two for each breast. First, the right breast. So, off comes the right side of the gown as I step up to The Machine. The nurse (who's name escapes me, oddly enough) takes hold of my breast, pulls it straight out and places it on the padded surface of The Machine (the padding is for my warmth and comfort by the way -- yeah, right). After directing me in arm and foot placement, she goes around to the control pad and lowers the clear, upper plastic plate. This is just a rectangular shaped piece of clear plastic, totally unremarkable except for the fact that it now has me trapped in a most peculiar fashion. I'm a tad nervous as the squeezing begins.

Just as I was beginning to steel myself for the worst, it stopped. The nurse says, "Are you okay?"

I reject the obvious smart-ass reply and settle for "yes".

"Okay," she says, "now hold your breath." No problem, except for the fact that I had already been holding my breath in anticipation of further squeezing.

She pushes the button and The Machine emits a series of very 1960s bad science fiction show noises, and suddenly it is over. I gasp for air as The Machine lets go.

Repeat the process for the left breast, then tilt The Machine and repeat for the lypmh nodes.

All in all, my personal experience ranked only Extremely Uncomfortable, but it was on the border. Now, to the reader who has never seen me in person, I should point out that I am amply endowed (They're real and they are specTACular!). For a woman of lesser endowments, I'm thinking in the A-B cup size range, this procedure could be extremely tricky, as The Machine must have something to grab on to. To those women I say: You have my sympathy.

So, the twins got a clean bill of health, and now my doctor has a Baseline to compare future scans. Fortunately, I have another three years before this becomes a yearly event.

Movie Review--Times Two

Okay, so I'm a bit behind in my movie reviews. So, I have two for you. I shall begin with the most recent, the one I left not ten minutes ago.

Transporter 2

I liked the original Transporter. It was good, but not overdone. I can't say the same for the sequel. Oh, it was good. Very entertaining. If you want action, action, and more action, this is your flick. If you want cheesy dialouge (hey, it's an action flick, what do you expect) this movie is for you. If you want fight scenes that would make Jackie Chan envious, look no further. But overdone? I'm afraid so.

Namely, the special effects. Hollywood has gotten SO good at realistic special effects, that the studios have slipped deep into One-Up manship. Transporter 2's stunts get bigger and bigger, and it isn't long until they slip into the realm of "Oh, come ON!" It's also too easy to spot where the computer generation begins. Not exactly seamless. Still, a heckuva ride, and a few really good laughs (although I'm not sure that is what the producers were looking for in the fight scenes). Lots of ooohs and aaahs and a few rounds of "Jiminy Christmas!" to be had. All in all, thumbs up on the fights and half a thumb on effects.

One of the BEST things about this movie...equal opportunity bad guys. The casting agents went out of their way to ensure that every race and ethnic group was included (yes, including Caucasians). I guess the theory is: If we offend everyone, we offend no one.

The good guy? One sexy Brit, Jason Statham as Frank Martin. I have had a thing for this guy for some time now, so of course I'm not going to say anthing bad about him...except that the shot where he took his shirt off was way too close up. 'Nuff said.

The Bond Chick. A newcomer, Kate Nauta. Model/Actress no doubt. (This was a Luc Besson project, and his penchant for using models (whether they can act or not) is well known ((see: The Fifth Element)). Ms. Nauta did a much better job than the trailer led me to believe she would. Still it was not all that great. She was there for the guys, of course, so I guess I shouldn't complain too much.

So, my final advice? See it. Theater or rental makes no difference, totally up to you. But turn your brain off and just enjoy.


Review #2 The Brothers Grimm

Sigh. I can't truly decide whether I liked this movie or not. I wanted to. Really, I did. But it just didn't grab me. Directed by Terry Gilliam (the biggest reason I wanted to like this movie), Brothers Grimm is a romp through the dark forests of eighteenth century Europe. I SO wanted supporting cast lines like: "Dennis, there's some lovely filth down 'ere." But, as oddball and charming as they were, the supporting cast just didn't have the "oomph" to do it for me.

Cheesy accents abound in this flick. German, French, Italian, English. Whatever. The settings are suitably dark, gloomy and downright creepy. Nice effects here, especially with the Enchanted Forest. But there was one thing that really, REALLY bugged me. Matt Damon's teeth. Mr. Damon has a wonderful set of large, perfect, white choppers. Totally out of place in this setting. They should have at least dulled them down somewhat. Heath Ledger's teeth are far less noticeable. Johnathon Price (cheesy French accent) was a nice suprise as well, no problem with his teeth, either.

It's a nice romp, really. The story line is okay, and worth spending the price of a rental fee, definately. But, trust me on this: think twice before paying theater prices. Sorry, Terry.