The Last Legion: A Review

So. Bad.

Why do the Visigoths have Scottish accents?

I refer you now to the Popcorn & Chainmail sporking of The Last Legion, which scarcely touches upon how bad this film is.

So. Bad.

EDITED TO ADD:

So. Bad.

The Amtrak Problem, Reduced in Size to Better Explain Its Potential Ramifications

Commuting to Boston from Providence has its downfalls--earlier mornings, later nights, cold walks and delayed trains--but the thought of an impending Amtrak strike has me ready to throw in the towel. If a strike happens, I quit.

As an article in The Boston Globe explained, Amtrak operates South Station, the launching point for the commuter rail to and from Boston and a pretty important travel hub. Even worse news for me, Amtrak is in the unique and baffling position of operating the commuter rail to and from Providence (as opposed to the other commuter rail lines, which are owned by the MBTA). And for a gal with no car, and, therefore, no way to get to stations on other commuter rail lines like Walpole or Canton, this could spell disaster for the current spring semester, which for Boston University students began on January 16th.

The strike, if it happens [insert fervent prayer here], could begin January 30th, which gives me the option of either roughing it with the local busses (which I've heard are often grossly delayed or interrupted, if they show up at all) or withdrawing for the semester. Of course, after January 30th, my tuition refund in the case of a leave of absence drops from 80% to only 60%.

Ouch.

[And It Gets Even Ouchier. Read On. -- Katie, or "Self-Pity McMartyr"]

My typical day begins at 6:30 (or, more realistically, 7:00) in the morning, when I get up and prepare to make the 45 minute walk/15 minute bike ride to the Providence train station, 2 miles from my apartment. My train departs at 8:10 and, due to a number of stops above and beyond the norm, arrives at the Back Bay station around 9:20. At this point I either head down to the Copley Plaza T stop and wait for a B line train (which can take upwards of twenty minutes) or I bravely walk a half hour to the BU campus. Class begins at 10am and ends at 11:50am. I then have either twenty minutes to catch a 12:10 train out of Back Bay (which is seriously never going to happen) or I wait around and try not to spend money during the intervening two hours before the next Providence train at 2:05. The conveniently located Trader Joe's on Newbury St. makes this challenge nigh on impossible (cheap prepared goods, how they call to me!) If I'm lucky, I make it home at about 4:00. Maybe a little later, since the 2:05 train is often, let us say, not on schedule. A cab ride from the train station to my apartment is about $10 with tip, but I'm not above spending the cash after a long or unreasonably cold day.

All this for just under two hours of classes (except on Mondays, when I have classes until 9pm). Ridiculous, you say? Well, not really. Even factoring in the cost of train tickets, and assuming my time is well-spent reading or doing homework on the train and while waiting for it, I am still savings several thousand dollars a year by living in Providence--which is something like 20% of my income, and therefore, a really big deal.

If I took a bus, to be on the safe side I'd have to catch the recommended Peter Pan/Bonanza Bus, which does, in theory, run more often, once every hour. Of course, the ultimate conundrum: do I wake up super-early and aim for the 7:15 train or chance it and take the 8:15?I'm scared to try but I think that's probably the best bet--smelly and unreliable, but at least a more viable option than riding my bike to Boston.

Which, I calculated, would take about about 4 hours if I rode continuously at about 15 mph and factored in a little break, during which I supposedly would have to be resuscitated by some helpful fellow commuter stuck in traffic and handily posessing a small travel defibrillator.

And so I am reduced to begging: please, Amtrak, work out this union stuff. Lance Armstrong I am not and never will be, and waking up ridiculously early in the morning is not my forte. Neither, though, is schilling out 40% of my tuition for a semester I won't actually get credit for. I might not be a math major, but I think that qualifies as more than a mere inconvenience.

Word of the Day:

amortize.

here

Oh Noes, Trinity Rep!

I love solid local theater as much as the next gal (well, probably less, but whatever) but the new ad for Providence's Trinity Rep performance of Shakespeare's Richard III has me ticked off in a bad, bad, nerdy way.

'Cause it kind of gives the impression that Richard III did and was all of the things Shakespeare wrote he did and was. Which, scholars pretty much agree, he did not. Shakespeare was writing, like all writers, a) for fun and b) for politics. In a word: Lies!

First they call Richard a

"villainous king"

and then, well, they (meaning whoever wrote the highly effective ad) slander him some more.

I suggest everyone go see the play and then immediately familiarize yourself with the true events of Richard III's interesting and often tragic life by reading Josephine Tey's brilliant novel, The Daughter of Time.

I'm going to go off and pretend to be angry about something more important now.

Truth is the daughter of time.
(Aulus Gellius)

So let's get with it, people.

PS I was also disapointed to see that in Trinity's online supplementary material concerning their educational programs, they never mention a historical discussion. Instead, they focus on the 'art.' Phooey.

Grapes + Pretension = Whine.

Just when you thought I couldn't possibly be more obnoxious, here I come with another confession: I am a wine snob and a foodie and I have subscriptions to both Gourmet and Bon Apetit (foodie overkill if ever there was). Recently, I've come to love the cheap bottles of Pinot Noir that seem to dominate the wino-on-a-budget scene: Rex Goliath (Boston folks will recognize the name from the giant ads found at bus stops all last year and the year before), George duBoeuf, Sidewise. But that's for my own kitchen. Dining out, my favorite restaurant cop-out is to glance at the wine list and request the waiter or chef (rarely do I venture to places with an actual sommelier) pick a wine that is either a house favorite or goes well with the meal. In this way I sound like a snob, but a humble one, deferring to the folks who create and serve the food--folks who should, in theory, know of what they speak. And that way, I don't have to ponder the list endlessly and end up drinking crap--I only recently turned 21 and, enthusiast though I may be, I am hardly an expert.

But when a restaurant doesn't offer anything good--or, as is the case with most of the best eateries on the mostly-dry Martha's Vineyard, anything at all--what is a wino to do?
I opened up the pages of February's Food and Wine and found an article on something I had never heard of: corkage. Corkage is the practice of charging clientele a fee (often around $25 but as high as $250 in some swanky places) for bringing their own wines. I understand the charge from a restaurant point of view, but from a customer's perspective I have to wonder what the upside is (a guide by the same author, Lettie Teague, on BYOB can be found here).

Really, now. Have a mixed drink or an iced tea or a glass of inferior, although perfectly adequate, wine (or a water! Mon dieu!) and drink that lovely bottle of wine at home with a nice bar of dark chocolate, watching a movie, cuddled up with your date. Doesn't that sound nice? Nicer, say, than spending $25-250 to buy the bottle and then $25-250 to drink it?

The article points that the line used by many restaurants--bringing outside drink into the restaurant is illegal--is often not the case. It's certainly not the case in Mass or RI, where dry towns and cheap Asian-cuisine places (Galaxie and Noodles in Providence come to mind) make BYOB pretty standard. But at the gastro-pub where I work (heavy on the pub, light on the gastro), managers often look around, confused and terrified, when customers produce a bottle of Champagne to celebrate an event. Waitstaff are told to immediately tell them, "Stop! You can't do that here!"

But you can. While I wouldn't neccesarily waste my good wine on burgers or a rack of ribs (especially not if I was in a microbrewery, duh), I could see why someone would want to do so. Yes, my restaurant carries Rex Goliath, but the other "labels"--Sycamore Lane? Rodney Strong?--aren't really worth the price. Even if they were, say, free.

So when fancy martinis or craft beers aren't your thing, and the restaurant clearly has no wine list, my choice would be to go elsewhere. I won't pay corkage, but more importantly, a restaurant should be judged not only by its food but by its drink. If the wine list simply sucks, what does that say?

But here in New England, where we don't really do wine and if we do, not very well, it make sense to order off the menu. In places like California, the article mentions, BYOB is much more common, since people are walking right off the vineyards and into their favorite diner.
I expected the article to be snotty, and it was, although not in a terribly annoying way; and I was pleasanlty suprised when, at the conclusion, Teague quoted a resteraunteur praising the $10 Red Truck Pinot Noir (something I buy with seriously frightening regularity). I doubt I'll ever have the wallet or the guts to bring my own bottle to a restaurant, or the forethought (since Teague encourages calling first to make sure BYOB is okay). Plus, the restaurants in Providence and Boston that I love all have good wine lists, and I'd rather spend $20 for two glasses of good wine with dinner than $20 for an average bottle and a corkage fee.

A Brief Guide to Providence-Boston Wine, on a Budget:

Best Cellars: a no-brainer. Located conveniently off the T at Copley Square and
only a block or two away from the Back Bay commuter rail station in Boston, the
staff are friendly and knowledgable and there's no shame in browsing the $7
bottles--in fact, you'd be hard pressed to find anything more pricey than
$10-$15. Perhaps a little gimmicky--trying too hard to cater to the young ,
broke, and clueless--but still, Best Cellars knows their stuff.

Madiera: a lovely little Mom and Pop liquor store on Ives St. in Providence. Great deals on mixed cases (10% off) and a wide variety of cheap, good stuff. I love the way the owner studied my ID--they clearly don't care to serve underage frat boys.
It's nice to browse the wine racks undisturbed, without being interrupted by
customers asking where they keep the Jager.

Gasbarro's: avoid. Unless you are in the mob. Located in the historically fussy Federal Hill district of Providence, home to the often underwhelming and overpriced Italian fare that makes it famous, the folks here are knowledgable and not at all snotty. Why, then, did I pay almost twice as much as I should have for a simple Tuscan table wine? It's got to be the high cost of owning or renting on Atwell's Avenue--the store itself is clean but shabby, with boxes on the floor and hardly any
display. I'm 5' 8" and hate bending down to read labels. Still, the staff
recommendations were right on target. And it's within walking distance. I'm
torn.

Citron: a nice wine bar right across from the ( useless ) Capital Grille in downtown Providence. The food is tasty (the Ceasar Salad is great--a weird thing to recommend, but really, it is) and the wine list is really fun. They do wine tastings often or you can order a flight. I've never tried a wine I didn't like at Citron, and their colorful (although very busy and kind of confusing) wine list can be helpful if you already know what you're in the mood for. Their mixed drinks are fancy and pretty good, too.

Okay, I'm done. Now to open a bottle of Red Truck, crack open a romance novel, and enjoy my evening. Corkage free.

< / plagiarism >

First the (riduculously titled) chick-lit catastrophe that was Opal Meht [1] and now the slow, meticulous demise of romance writer Cassie Edwards.

Over at SmartBitchesTrashyBooks, a blog I read with devotion bordering on obsession, the gals and their friends have uncovered a story now picked up by the AP, NYtimes, CNN, and syndicated by others. While I privately do a little dance that bloggers (romance bloggers, of all people!) are being taken seriously by mainstream media, as a writer and a woman (the victims and perpetuators of most bad romance, I'd say) I'm a bit sickened. It seems Cassie Edwards, without much room for doubt, blantantly copied works and used entire passages of other people's words in her own novels. Research material, creative non-fiction, and even a Pulitzer winning novel still under copyright. [2]

I encourage everyone to go check it out, because seriously: Savage WTF?!

Unlicensed Carpentry

Would someone like to tell me why the unlicensed (although very friendly and seemingly competent) contractors working on the apartment downstairs insist on

a) hammering at 8:00 AM

b) playing whirly-gig music

?

I can't hear the lyrics, and if I could, I doubt I have enough Spanish to really appreciate them--but the music, on whatever station it is that they are listening to, only plays tunes that have an underlying 'carny' melody. I feel like I am in a bad episode of Carnivale.

Booop booop dee, booop booop dee, et cetera.

And did I mention this has been going on since September?