The nattering nabob of negativity is back.

Pretty much all I've done on this so-called blog for the past few months is bitch and moan about one thing or another, mostly financial institutions. In a world wide web chock full of negativity, you'd think we bloggers would strive to throw in a dash of much-needed optimism here and there. So, as of this moment, I'm setting a goal for this blog o' mine:  for every two things I bitch and moan about, I am going to throw in at least one positive, optimistic, happy, cheerful, or non-misanthropic thought.


Hmm. It's not quite as easy as I had imagined it would be. I've been sitting here for the past five minutes trying to come up with something happy to write about, and nothing has come to mind as of yet. Why don't I just burble on about  random, nugatory, useless stuff instead? I'm sure that by the end of the post, something positive will have occurred to me.

I'm not a big fan of reality TV. I often find myself completely lost in conversations with family and co-workers about who insulted who on American Idol, who did or didn't get a rose on The Bachelor, or who ate the most disgusting combination of animal innards on Fear Factor. But recently PBS aired  a series which redefined reality TV for me.

The three part Frontline series called Country Boys aired in early January, but you can watch the entire program online.

Filmmaker David Sutherland and crew followed two teenage boys from rural Eastern Kentucky for three years. There is no narrator, but the boys can often be heard offering insight to what they were feeling in each scene. I was so completely wrapped up in their world that I felt more like a fly on the wall than a television audience member.

There was nothing about either of the boys that really stood out, but something about their stories completely captivated me from the moment I began watching. Maybe it's because for once somebody showed the "Real World" for what it truly is. Although the world seems to be controlled by the beautiful people, it's made full by the so-called misfits and invisible loners, and every single one of them has a beautiful story to tell.  Or, maybe it's because the world Chris and Cody live in isn't so much unlike my own. Either one of them could have been one of my classmates from high school. At any rate, I can't ever remember a television program having involved me as much as this one did. It wasn't pity I felt for these boys; it was humble admiration. Stereotypes I've held on to for years were obliterated as I witnessed a young man who came from the depths of poverty exhibit more class than a boardroom full of white collar professionals.

I could ramble on all night, and not do it justice. If you can at all, you should take the time to watch it online, or order the DVDs.  But one more thing before I shut up about it and move on to the next nugatory topic.  My favorite line from the movie, one which had Marv and I laughing our asses off for a good five minutes, came from a friend one of the boys was living with. His name was Jay, and to many people he would appear to be an uneducated, poor, mentally challenged hick. But Jay proffered perhaps the most fundamental wisdom of the universe when he told his friend Chris upon having him move in:  "You teach me how to drive, and I'll teach you how to get food stamps. That's what buddies are for."

Now, on to a couple of other boys on screen who seem to be the talk of the town no matter where you are: Jake and Heath. Jack and Ennis. The cowboys. The gay cowboys. (As Marv later pointed out, everybody refers to it as the "Gay Cowboy Movie" when in actuality, it's the "Gay Shepherd Movie.") I am, of course, referring to the stars of Brokeback Mountain. If you've been living under a rock for the past year, I should tell you that this is the movie starring Jake Gyllenhaal and Heath Ledger as ranch hands who become lovers in the early sixties. Marv and I saw it this weekend with my friend, Anthony, and I'm sorry to report that all three of us were disappointed. Sure, it was a nice love story, the acting was superb, and it's a breakthrough film, but in my (totally unworthy) opinion, it's not Golden Globe for Best Picture worthy. But, like Country Boys, it also offers up a line that is quote-worthy when Jack (Jake) says to Ennis (Heath), "You know, friend, this is a goddamn bitch of an unsatisfactory situation."

There we were, 2:00 on a Sunday afternoon, in a half-empty restaurant famous for its ribs, with not an edible rib to be found on the premises. They were fresh out of ribs, their specialty, despite the fact that it was being offered as their daily special. They were also out of the other special they were offering, the Beer Battered Grouper. So, after two tries of getting lemons for Anthony's water, failing to receive our standard before-dinner bread basket, and finding out that they were out of half of their featured menu items, we placed our order. Tennessee Chili was the Soup of the Day, so I ordered a bowl of it, and some quesadillas to share with the others. Marv ordered a cheeseburger with bacon. Anthony ordered one of their steaks.

When we got our food, there were no quesadillas, no bacon on the burger, and my chili was white. I did not order the White Chili, I ordered the Tennessee Chili, which is, for all practical purposes, a sort of reddish-brown color. No problem; they go and switch the White Chili for the other stuff, and bring out a half order of quesadillas when we had ordered a full. Marv had been pretty patient up until this point, but he can only take so much. He sort of snapped and started going on about how they had gottten every single thing wrong since we walked in the door, and Barry, our "official" waiter, heard the commotion and came running over to see what the problem was. When Marv mentioned that I had been given White Chili by mistake, Barry spoke up and said, "Oh, no. She ordered the White Chili."

Beg pardon?

When I reminded Barry that no, in fact, I hadn't ordered the White Chili, that I had specified the Tennessee Chili both verbally and by pointing to it on the menu where it was featured as the freakin' Soup of the Day, his only explanation was, "Well, I wasn't paying attention to where you were pointing on the menu, and most people order the White Chili, so I just assumed that was what you wanted."

At this point, we had already crossed the "our food will be spat in if we get anything else" threshold, so we decided to forego having them correct anything else and just stick with what we had. So, here's the part where I throw in a couple positives to counter the negatives: the food was excellent, and Barry was nice enough to fill up our drinks for the remainder of our time there. Great sport, that Barry.

Well, I've exhausted my allotted blog-posting time. I must go now, and journey downstairs to awaken my napping bedmate, who, as of late, has been making race car noises in his sleep (Vroom...VROOOOM...), and who, incidentally, has, at this very moment, a tiny metal shaving lodged in his throat all because of my love for mushrooms.

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