Ok ok ok. Let me narrow it a little. I love me some blues. Old blues, chicago blues, delta blues, Willie Dixon is the blues. I grew up on punk rock and electronica, alternating between the Dead Kennedys and Nitzerebb with some Bauhaus and Sisters of Mercy thrown in.
From there I expanded to classic rock, grunge, rap and country. Lately I've been listening to a lot of Tejano, PORQUE ES LA LEY! If you know what I just said, then you probably do to (at least in Austin).
My favorite singer of all time is Nina Simone and if I got stuck on a desert isle with just one CD, it would be the Mills Brothers. My own music sounds nothing like that, but hey.
My favorite director is Roman Polanski and other favorites include: Kubrick, Scorcese, Tarrantino, Hitchcock, John Huston, Leone, Lucas, Kirosawa...
What Classic Movie Are You?
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I own one. I loved Deadwood, currently enjoy Dexter, Heroes and BSG. That's about it.
I like the Family Guy, Absolutely Fabulous, The Office (brit version), Rome, etc..
I like books with lots of pictures in them. Preferrably pictures of nekkid people scampering about at church and hanging from the candelabra.
I thought about updating this part too, but it's still pretty much true.
My fat, black cat is one of my biggest heroes.
When he was about a year or so old. We were staying home, being lame, watching Once and Again. That should say something about the vigorousness of the evening. So anyways, we get a call from a neighbor "um, we think we have your cat".
So I race down there and the is the crippled little bastard. Crying and covered in blood, trying to pull himself around with his front paws. I lose it right there. I grab the cat and take him home, where my wife loses it even more. In out panic, we drive him by one of those emergency pet clinics.
NEVER TAKE YOUR CAT OR DOG TO AN EMERGENCY PET CLINIC. It won't help. They charged us $600 to stick a subcutaneous (under the skin) drip bag to give him fluids and put him on a heating pad. Then they "observed him overnight". $600. And this is after us (feeling guilty) telling them to do the bare minimum cause we couldn't afford more.
So, we get the cat back and take him to his vet re-al and the vet says "hit by a car, head injury, not looking good". The cat is out of it. We take him home.
About 2 in the morning, the little bugger starts panting like Jenna Jameson in a cheap porno and things are not looking good. His temperature goes sky high and his breathing gets shallow and ragged. This cat is a goner. We say our tearful goodbyes.
But this little fucker isn't done yet. I start filling the plastic food container from the gargantuan food bag and all of a sudden he perks up. He's still practically comotose, but showing signs. My wife stays up all night and sponges the little guy with cold compresses. His fever breaks.
The next day, he's already trying to eat. He's crawling on his good legs trying to get out of the box we're keeping him in. This bastard survived a car wreck, a brain injury and get this, a massive hernia! Yep, the second doctor we take him to finds the hernia and fixes it. A week of box living and this cat is already trying to climb the stairs. No broken back bones (that we know of, didn't pay for x-rays) got his front teeth knocked out, his face badly abraised and his head concussed. He survives.
And to this day, this gimpy, fat, black cat is the terror of the household. He waddles along and beats up the other cats with abandon and relishment. It's only too bad that his waddle isn't quick enough and I can catch him pretty easily and lock him in "the hole" when he's misbehaving.