ahream

I just recently got Netflix. (Also indoor plumbing, and wow, is that great.) Sadly, it may not last. (The Netflix not the indoor plumbing. The plumbing is here to stay.) I’m one more “add to my queue” away from blowing up the website A.I. and being banned forever from all movie rental sites current and future.

The problem is “I” don’t have Netflix. “We” have Netflix, my husband and I. And “we” haven’t agreed on a movie since, well, ever. I keep throwing in quirky, independent comedies. He’s matching me with Japanese anime. I wanted Transamerica. He wanted The King of Kong because we don’t have nearly enough video games around here. I wanted to catch up on all the classics I should’ve seen, and he wants to catch up on movies with midgets in them.

Netflix, bless its little digital heart, keeps trying to make recommendations based on “my” preferences, but best it can tell, I’m a 13-year-old transgendered child with a soft spot for John Cusack and large animated breasts. It’s very confused.

ahream Dispatches from the City of Angels I'm a mystery writer living in and writing about Los Angeles. You can catch my short story, "Running Venice," in the new anthology LAndmarked for Murder. Look for it in bookstores and on Amazon.com now. In the meantime, feel free to poke around. Over at my website you can find even more blog entries than I could fit here, as well as a few other ramblings. Enjoy and come back often.
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