fish heads. and nineties nostalgia.

This post is brought to you by the collaborative magic of cranberry juice, limes, vodka, and triple sec. Lots and lots of triple sec.

So two days ago I encountered a fish. It was in my kitchen sink. Whole. Mouth open, eyes wide. So real looking that at any moment one would expect it to spontaneously commence violently flapping around. But alas, it was dead. I smiled to myself and moved along because that's standard fare where I live-- it's part of the magic of living with Chinese nationals. They served me a similar fish once, so I know the outcome is good, so I take it in stride. In the past, some of the cuisine thawing out in our kitchen has driven me to photography:

(dead fish twinsies)

(frog legs-- they smelled really good once cooked but it kind of made me want to wretch. And revert to "The Muppet Movie" state of consciousness.) (funny that that's the second time that movie comes up today) ("motorcycle cop")

but now I am more or less chill about the whole "whole fish dead in my sink" thing.

Thusly (is that a word?) you can imagine but shock and dismay to encounter the same fresh looking fish in a rather cooked state of being when I opened the microwave today. The difference today was the three quarters of his (or her's) body was gone, and really all that remained was his (or her's) skeleton and his head, which was presumably meant to be eaten. I couldn't really handle that, you know? Especially because it stank like re-cooked dead fish and he (or she) looked startlingly familiar. I left a passive-aggressive note on the microwave ("the microwave is not for food store--please use the refrigerator thanks :)") and I believe I exclaimed in an exasperated tone "WHAT THE HELL?!?!" and busted out the Saran Wrap. I swear, some days, it's like I just keep finding fish heads in the microwave. It's like the fucking theme for the day. Like when I went for my Netflix dvd to watch for class. Whatdoyaknow, it was CRACKED!!! And ya, there were seriously other fish heads throughout the day but I'm not going to get into it.

So after getting myself some serious groceries-- a supermegahappy fruit and veggie run, my friends) I came home and determined that there was simply no other option but to watch Empire Records for free on my Netflix internet player, because well fuck, The Longest Day and Seabuscuit (my last two movies to watch for class on Thursday) just weren't on there.

I admit, I own the Empire Records soundtrack, or at least at some point I think I burned my brother's copy onto my computer (it took me like eight times to spell "computer" right-- thank you, Mozilla spellcheck). And so of course the first thing that hits me about the movie is "this song's not on the soundtrack!!!" again and again. The second thing to get me was "Man, Renee Zellwellger used to be healthy looking!!!" and by like, five minutes in I'm completely immersed in like, complete nineties nostalgia. Like I swear, even though ER was made in 1995, me and my best friend J probably tried on outfits akin to Liv Tyler's when her mom used to drop us off at the Tacoma Mall in the old red Saturn (back when the Bon was not Macy's and The Cube occupied the Bon basement, not Menswear-- fuck, back when there was a fountain with stairs down into the Bon basement and NOT a fucking Thomas Kinkaid store-- yah, fellow-Tacomans, you remember dat).

Nineties nostaligia is the new eighties nostalgia, just you wait. But for serious! The music? not on the soundtrack? The Presidents doing "Video Killed The Radio Star". I was fucking moved, it was fucking epic. Like remember "Peaches"?! And "Kitty?!" And "Volcano", that dank tribute to our own magical Mt. Rainer?!?! They just don't make music like that any more? Or what about guys wearing Value Village-esque cardigans? The counter-culture kids today are just to hipster-esque for that shit, and it really causes me grief, because as the standard of living goes up, somehow-- and I don't really understand this-- the recession gains strength. Do not understand. Must stay in school through recession.

Another thing that kills me about this movie is that THEY WORK IN A RECORD STORE. Back when we got our music AT STORES. Pre-iTunes, hell, pre-DSL. This was circa-AOL-dialup! Back when I saved up my allowance to buy a polyester shirt at Rave and the new Bush album (the second one) (and for as shitty as it was, "Swallowed" was and is still a great song, no?). The world has changed so much! There was no 9-11 yet! There was no George W. Bush! There wasn't even an Iraq War! Obama? He was like, twelve years old! Oy. Such simple times were those. Dramatic eyeliner under the eyes, The Cranberries (so fitting!), brown lipstick, being in love with your best friend before there was no stupid Facebook "in a relationship" or whatever. Seriously. I'm pretty sure they just don't make teenage angst like this any more. Mark and his pot brownies (no, not that Mark.), dudes wearing necklaces? Can we please be transplanted back to the magical Clinton nineties? Pleeeease? Mock suicide funerals?! The nineties were so geniune!!! Arggggghhhh!