Archive for: ‘January 2007’

Casino Royale – Praise for Daniel Craig

January 30, 2007 Posted by fairviewsue

I must be the last person on the planet to see this movie and this is not so much a movie review, as a lap dance for Mr. Craig. I must say, I fell for him hard as, “Bond. James Bond” in this film. He “disarmed” me, so to speak. Those icy blue eyes with that well muscled physique, the forceful sexuality and hot passion had me coming and going during the entire film. I would have extended him the five million dollar credit for the poker game just for him to spend one night with me; I wouldn’t even care if he won. I would have assuaged his bruised ego if need be.

I would have shared the blackmail plot with him and lived, where the stupid Vesper bimbo did not. Here is how that would have gone:

“James, darling.”

“Yes my sweet Sue”

I have to tell you something.”

What dear?”

“Back when you were being tortured, I made a deal to get you out. I was blackmailed to save your life and that of my French-Algerian boyfriend if I promised to hand over the money to them. I’m really sorry, but I am sure that you can understand why I did it.”

“Oh, of course! Don’t worry for a moment honey. We can triple cross them without much trouble. I will set the whole thing up and don’t you worry your pretty little head about it one more minute. Okay? I really am feeling much better. Shall I make mad passionate love to you now?”

“Your wish is my command, my love… Shall I run away to make it sporting for you? And then struggle and resist with all my strength?”

“Oh God, you know how to make me hot! You are on! I’ll give you a five second head start.”

Sigh. Have to breathe here. Feeling dizzy. Better now.

Right away, I bought him as a thug, when he strangled his first bad guy with his bare hands. The cool killer spy quickly followed as he dispatched both with a quick silenced shot; the last from his trademark 007 Walther PPK. Then he sold me on his action hero potential as he chased another bad guy through Madagascar á la Jackie Chan. I am sure everybody got bruises shooting those scenes.

He fills out a bathing suit quite nicely. Don’t you think? I’d rather he take it off. I am sure they have nude bathing there in Montenegro. If you would like to see a photo of him nude, Pete in Finland has one here.

But, could this brute, Mr. Craig, handle being suave, debonair, a seducer of women at a formal event? Ah, yes he could. Most handily thank you.

But last, and not least, we have to see our hero tortured. So here he is in the infamous torture scene.

They saved this scene until the last day of shooting. How they did it is the bottom of the chair was covered with fiberglass. A cane rug beater was used to strike it, as could be seen in the movie. Mr. Craig could feel that the bottom was being hit, but was completely safe. On one hit the fiberglass cracked and Mr. Craig stood up suddenly and said, “Whoa, gotta go!”

I must say, I enjoyed the scene because Mr. Craig was nude and sweaty and looked hot in it. I did not for one moment believe that he was being tortured and the scene did not make me wince. I thought the scene was hot. What did you think?

By the way, I have rented more of his films on Netflix. Daniel Craig is my new favorite actor, so don’t even think of coming between us. Got that?

Boat Shmoat, We’re Going to Paris – Part 10

January 29, 2007 Posted by fairviewsue

The next morning, Sean was scheduled to meet with the company’s career counselor at La Defense. So we both took the metro there together and Sean was anxious to see the building, as he is an architect and also the company’s offices. We breakfasted at the CNIT place and had café with chocolate croissants before his meeting at 10:00 am.

Sean was duly impressed with the building and we both had our daily passes manufactured while we waiting to get into the company offices. While he was meeting with the career counselor, I had the opportunity to ask Monsieur P if the car was left out of the contract by oversight. He replied that at my level there is no car in France. I said that Ms. S (of the manicured nails) told me there would be a car, and he answered that Ms. S must not know anything about company cars in France. (To be said in Steve Martin voice: Well excuse me!) France differs from all of Europe in respect to company cars. He indicated that I would have to be an entire level higher to get a car. Bottom line: no car. I thanked him for clarifying that and left.

Sean was finished with his meeting and while impressed that the company had made an effort to help with placing the spouse in a career, not that impressed with the effort itself. Sean had already covered the bases the company had suggested such as, going to professional journals, networking with professional friends, checking local papers, etc. Our next appointment was at 2 pm with a lawyer that the company used to arrange my work visa. So, we took the metro to a location near his office in central Paris to have lunch.

We were both kind of flummoxed that France does not give cars to people at my level, because first it was promised and second, that would be a deal breaker for us. It represented $10 grand at least, which was not being covered any place else. Part of our plan of being in Paris was to drive around and see Europe on the weekends and one needs a car for that. So we were deep into discussion of this, when our change from the lunch tab was brought. I counted it and we were short by 20 francs. Fuck. I had to go yell at the garçon and in French no less. He probably saw upset Americans who were unfamiliar with the currency and thought we wouldn’t notice we were being ripped off.

So I rushed up to him and yelled something like, “Give me the money fast!!!” It was the best I could muster quickly. He did, looking sheep faced and without apology. We rushed out of there without leaving any tip.

We made it to the lawyer’s office in plenty of time. Monsieur R met with both of us and was most kindly as he explained that a work visa for me would be very straight forward as I would be sponsored by the company and could work in France for 2 years. I would be required to go back to the U.S. for one month per year. We went over the paper requirements for me. When it came out that my father was born in Austria there was a bit of excitement. Monsieur R phoned the Austrian Embassy to see if I could claim my Austrian citizenship, but in a rather pissy tone the man at the embassy told me that my father surrendered his Austrian citizenship to join the American Army to fight in WWII and thus I was not eligible to become an Austrian citizen. Well, be that way. Hold a grudge. See if I care. It was exciting for a minute there though.

Monsieur R also mentioned that unemployment was high in France, at about 12%, and it would be tough for Sean to find a job and many French would see competition from Sean in a negative light. He also noted that Sean would have a difficult time not being fluent in the native tongue. Sean would have to stay on a travel visa until he could find employment and get a work visa. We thanked Monsieur R profusely and left.

We decided to shop on the Champs Élysées our way back to the hotel. Everything was so expensive. We wandered into a dress shop for children that was having a half price sale on summer dresses. There we bought two three beautiful handmade dresses for my niece that looked something like the ones pictured below. The dresses had lots of floral patterns with lace and hand work. They were to die for pretty. (She loved them and so did her mom.) How many little girls get their dresses from Paris? I ask you.

We got back to the hotel and decided to eat someplace at bit more exotic and less expensive that night. So we went out for Indian food. We found a small place near the hotel and ordered typical foods as we would at home. It was all wonderful, especially the cheese naan.

We asked the server what the cheese was in the naan, and he said, “Oh, it is just a local cheese that we buy at the street market.” We knew that this was true. Street markets could be found all over Paris. People would shop during the day, and then use the food bought there for dinner that night. Freshness was the daily mantra for the French cooks. You couldn’t go wrong with French cheese, meat, fish, vegetables, and fruit or wine carefully bought at these markets it seemed. Oh and they sold flowers for the table too.

Friday Fantasy – Help with Yard Work

January 26, 2007 Posted by fairviewsue

Look who I just hired from Shaney’s Hunk Hut! This is Travis. The Hunk Hut is closing really soon, but Shaney said that he would leave it open just for my Friday Fantasy. Isn’t he a swell guy? So, I hired this guy, Travis, and come to find out he only works in the (rhymes with mood). He runs around the yard gathering dead wood, while sporting some of his own. If you want to see his wood, you’ll have to go to where I hired him. (Adults only please.) He really is going to have to put some clothes on. Today’s temperature was 8 degrees F (-13 degrees C).

“Don’t you get cold Travis?”

“Not when I have you to keep me warm Sue.”

Don’t you just love Travis?

The Gospel of Luke – Part 3

January 24, 2007 Posted by fairviewsue

The final time I was with Luke in my room was in late summer. He was on my bed with his pants off and his erection was pointing at the ceiling. It was daytime. His erection was long enough that it reached his bellybutton. I remember thinking that sticking up like that, surrounded by his soft brown pubic hair, it looked like a throne waiting for the princess to sit upon. But sex with him was out of the question, because I didn’t love him. I wanted my first sexual encounter to be with someone I loved. Nonetheless, I wanted to do something memorable to him. I had heard that when he was with Tammy she had blown him and gagged on his penis because it was so big. I felt under pressure to compete and was leaving for college soon.

I didn’t know a thing about how to give a blow job. I did now that the penis had to go into your mouth, but that was it. So, as Luke lay back on the bed, I kissed his nipples and then worked my way down his stomach to his navel. There was a bit of moaning and toe curling. Good. Then, I put my mouth on the side of his penis. He sat up right away looking alarmed and I stopped. “What are you doing? Do you know how many germs are in your mouth?” He excused himself so that he could go home a shower right away.

I guess I was wrong about Tammy.

Sometime after that, Luke invited me to come with him to his new church. He explained that he had never in all his days experienced anything like it and would really like to know what I thought about it. What was unusual about it was that people were speaking in tongues and it seemed really real to him. My thoughts, which I did not share, were something along the lines of what the fuck bullshit is this? But I went with him anyhow. Leastways it would be entertaining.

Boy was it. The church was small, but ordinary looking. It was an all white congregation and the service began normally. Then we all joined hands, ugh, I hate that, and it got freaky. People here and there were speaking in tongues. It is really weird if you have never seen it. It sounded like lots of gobbledy gook to me. But then, I got the biggest surprise as Luke began speaking in tongues. I did a quick double take. Yup. Luke was speaking in tongues. I was tempted to do a quick, gee, look at the time and skip out of there but I had no transportation home. So I waited patiently until the service was over. The Luke looked at me and asked what I thought. I did my best to hide my feeling that he had taken leave of his senses and I hope that I succeeded in sparing his feelings. Luke was a really gentle soul and I owed him a lot for teaching me the art of love and being my companion. Who knew, I might even catch up with him over the summer.

Boat Shmoat, We’re Going to Paris – Part 9

January 22, 2007 Posted by fairviewsue

Wednesday was a day off, so we decided to visit the Palace of Versailles. I had been there when I was a kid and remembered the palace as a place of wonder, gilt in gold. Vast rooms were decorated opulently with embroidered silk upholstery, carved velvets on the walls, and heavy tassels hung from satin curtains. Furniture and moldings were covered in real gold as were fixtures. Vases were filled with solid gold roses. Crystal chandeliers dotted the ceilings. Tables were laid with elaborately decorated china, solid gold cutlery and crystal stemware on table cloths of silk. The symbol of the sun for Louis IV, the sun king, was emblazoned everywhere. Everything was made of colored marble, inlaid with the greatest care. There were rooms upon rooms filled with these treasures that I wanted to share with Sean.

After our café and croissant breakfast, we took the metro to Versailles and made our way to the Palace. The gates that I remembered as being so tall and topped with shiny gold when I was a girl were not that tall now and the luster was off the gold. The fee was about $20 each to get in but we paid anyway as the money went towards restoration of the palace.

The most disappointing thing was that the decorated rooms were far fewer (only three or so) and not open to visitors until the summer. What a bummer to have come all this way and not be able to share my memories with Sean. Plus, the famed chapel was also closed. We wandered up and down the weathered looking marble halls of this once great looking palace that now looked beaten down and much like it needed a good sweeping and dusting; maybe even a wipe with a damp cloth. Even the hall of mirrors looked a bit dull. Maybe it was because of the bright and shiny childhood memories I was comparing it to. Sean seemed to think that Versailles looked a bit beat too, though.

Things we did see:

Things we did not see but I remember:

We looked out a window at the gardens, which when I was there as a kid were in full August bloom, but now it was grey and cold. The park is beautiful, but it was too breezy and raw to explore today. So, with regret, we left the palace and headed for town to scout for lunch.

We were really hungry and in no time we found a McDonalds. A McDonalds in Versailles you might ask. Yes, readers, a McDonalds in Versailles. What is even stranger is that we ate there. We just really needed comfort food. We scarfed down a couple of burgers each and got back on the metro to go back to Paris.

We arrived back at our hotel some time later. Tonight we were invited out to dinner by the vice president of intercontinental clinical research, Dr. P. Dr. P was in Paris to visit his wife’s family who lives there and typically his office is in the US. I had known Dr. P for several years as we had worked together on a project earlier and had some good times. We were working together now on integrating later phase studies with early phase studies as part of the initiatives. We were supposed to meet him at Chez Françis. For this special occasion, I was going to wear my Fendi cocktail dress. I bought the dress while shopping with a good friend at a very chic mall that had a Fendi store. We entered and while I was looking at sweaters, she pulled the dress off of the rack and yelled, “Sue! Look at this dress! This will look fabulous on you! Try it on!”

This is not the actual dress, but you get the idea.

I looked at the price tag. It had been marked down from $3,000 to $800. I thought, well, it will never fit anyhow. But I took it into the try on room and damn if it didn’t fit as if it were made for me. God it just looked really great. I had to buy it. You understand that, don’t you? So, home I went with my purchase. It was one of those, honey, guess how much money I saved, purchases. But, Sean has always taken the view that it is my money and I can spend it on what ever I want. He loves the dress anyhow. Well, tonight was the perfect occasion to wear it. Dinner in Paris with a vice president. If not now, then when? I felt like a little princess in that dress.

We took the metro to Chez Françis and waited for Dr. P while we enjoyed the view of the Eiffel Tower across the Seine (which is what the restaurant is known for). Right on time at 8:30 he and his wife, Madame J showed up. We entered the restaurant, took our coats off and right away Dr. P complemented me on my dress. I was tempted to say, oh this rag, something I just threw on. But I didn’t. I told them the story. They were quite amused. Dr. P gave us a book, At Home in Paris, and we thanked him profusely.

We ordered dinner. His French was impeccable, but with some French Canadian accent, as he is from Canada. After our ordering was done, he leaned forward and said to me, in his best god father voice, “So, did they make you an offer that you can’t refuse?” The he smiled.

We all laughed because he knew exactly what had happened to me. I guess they pull that with all the candidates. Bring them in unsuspecting and then show them the contract and pressure them to sign right away.

“Yes. But I told them that I will have to go home and look it over before I sign.”

His smile grew even larger and he said, “Good for you! Look it over carefully. Make sure they aren’t pulling any crap on you.” Then the conversation drifted to more social matters and we all got along swimmingly as if we had been friends for years. We ended up walking with them towards their home and our hotel.