Monday, July 13, 2009
Panic, Minus the Disco
I had another of my awesome sleep disorder attacks last night. So despite the fact that I went to bed early, I devoted a large portion of the night to pacing back and forth frantically in my room and thinking that I was going to die, and thusly got about three hours of sleep. It is always amusing, in retrospect, to think about the frenzied way my mind works when it hits the panic button. Last night, for instance, I was freaked out by Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason on AMC not because of Renee Zelweger's tiny eye slits but because my brain was simultaneously working on 1) the connection between Bridget Jones and Pride & Prejudice, 2) the connection between Hugh Grant and Music & Lyrics starring Drew Barrymore, 3) how scary it would be to be imprisoned in southeast Asia, and 4) whether I was going to die. I then flipped over to Burn After Reading on HBO, but let me just say that the sight of John Malkovich is calming to no one. Finally I ended up with an episode of Friends, which served me well for twenty to thirty trips across my room and back. I guess I should take back all those nasty things I said about David Schwimmer.
Anyway, I'm heading to bed again momentarily, and here's hoping tonight it actually involves sleep. I'm off to New York for work tomorrow and looking forward to all the wonderful LaGuardia-based time that typically affords. Who knows, I may even get a soft pretzel.
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I had another of my awesome sleep disorder attacks last night. So despite the fact that I went to bed early, I devoted a large portion of the night to pacing back and forth frantically in my room and thinking that I was going to die, and thusly got about three hours of sleep. It is always amusing, in retrospect, to think about the frenzied way my mind works when it hits the panic button. Last night, for instance, I was freaked out by Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason on AMC not because of Renee Zelweger's tiny eye slits but because my brain was simultaneously working on 1) the connection between Bridget Jones and Pride & Prejudice, 2) the connection between Hugh Grant and Music & Lyrics starring Drew Barrymore, 3) how scary it would be to be imprisoned in southeast Asia, and 4) whether I was going to die. I then flipped over to Burn After Reading on HBO, but let me just say that the sight of John Malkovich is calming to no one. Finally I ended up with an episode of Friends, which served me well for twenty to thirty trips across my room and back. I guess I should take back all those nasty things I said about David Schwimmer.
Anyway, I'm heading to bed again momentarily, and here's hoping tonight it actually involves sleep. I'm off to New York for work tomorrow and looking forward to all the wonderful LaGuardia-based time that typically affords. Who knows, I may even get a soft pretzel.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Concerns
I put on Miss Congeniality this afternoon while I was doing a little bit of work on my computer and I realized that I can no longer tell if I am enjoying it ironically or actually enjoying it for its merits just a little bit. I mean, yes, it is terrible, right? The concept is silly, the characters flat, the dialogue stiff and unrealistic, and even the costumes somewhat lame. But it does contain a makeover, and any movie that does so is pretty much automatically wonderful. And I have to admit that every now and then I find myself smiling just a little bit at Candice Bergen's ridiculously over the bitch goddess routine and William Shatner's well worn himbo shtick. And at least it's not Two Weeks Notice, right?
I mean, let's be clear: I do not own Miss Congeniality, I did not see it in theaters, and I have never watched it all the way through from beginning to end. Moreover, I have seen Miss Congeniality 2: Armed and Fabulous and can clearly discern that it is only to be enjoyed ironically, if at all. But I fear that as to Miss Bullock's first entry in the fish out of water market, my cold black heart may be melting just a little bit. And it terrifies me.
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I put on Miss Congeniality this afternoon while I was doing a little bit of work on my computer and I realized that I can no longer tell if I am enjoying it ironically or actually enjoying it for its merits just a little bit. I mean, yes, it is terrible, right? The concept is silly, the characters flat, the dialogue stiff and unrealistic, and even the costumes somewhat lame. But it does contain a makeover, and any movie that does so is pretty much automatically wonderful. And I have to admit that every now and then I find myself smiling just a little bit at Candice Bergen's ridiculously over the bitch goddess routine and William Shatner's well worn himbo shtick. And at least it's not Two Weeks Notice, right?
I mean, let's be clear: I do not own Miss Congeniality, I did not see it in theaters, and I have never watched it all the way through from beginning to end. Moreover, I have seen Miss Congeniality 2: Armed and Fabulous and can clearly discern that it is only to be enjoyed ironically, if at all. But I fear that as to Miss Bullock's first entry in the fish out of water market, my cold black heart may be melting just a little bit. And it terrifies me.
Wednesday, July 08, 2009
Current Events
So I did finally get the wireless hooked up. A second Comcast man came last Friday and most thoroughly set up my network. (He also watched TV for 20 minutes in my room and downloaded what looks to be Japanese animation onto my computer, but oh well.) I've been sitting out in my living room checking email constantly just because I can. And trying to get all my friends to bring their laptops over so we can play Facebook Scramble in real time. I worry I might be some kind of pervert now, seriously.
In other news, the return to work on Monday was every bit as difficult as I'd feared. The first morning back felt like it lasted about six hours. It didn't help that I got sneezed on in the el on the way down. I took a long lunch but didn't really feel like eating anything due to the five layers of barbecue still residing in my stomach. And then in the afternoon I'm pretty sure I slipped into a minor coma. GOP senators were congregating outside my office to make sure no one tried to terminate my life support.
But the good news is the week is half over now. I'd prefer that it be all the way over, but so far the laws of space and time refuse to bend to suit my fancy.
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So I did finally get the wireless hooked up. A second Comcast man came last Friday and most thoroughly set up my network. (He also watched TV for 20 minutes in my room and downloaded what looks to be Japanese animation onto my computer, but oh well.) I've been sitting out in my living room checking email constantly just because I can. And trying to get all my friends to bring their laptops over so we can play Facebook Scramble in real time. I worry I might be some kind of pervert now, seriously.
In other news, the return to work on Monday was every bit as difficult as I'd feared. The first morning back felt like it lasted about six hours. It didn't help that I got sneezed on in the el on the way down. I took a long lunch but didn't really feel like eating anything due to the five layers of barbecue still residing in my stomach. And then in the afternoon I'm pretty sure I slipped into a minor coma. GOP senators were congregating outside my office to make sure no one tried to terminate my life support.
But the good news is the week is half over now. I'd prefer that it be all the way over, but so far the laws of space and time refuse to bend to suit my fancy.
Sunday, July 05, 2009
Independence
For a number of reasons, I am not one of those people who spends a lot of time complaining about his job. First, it doesn't really seem to do any good. No one has ever been told to take a weekend off because they were complaining about the hardness of their desk chair. Second, it is a great way to dry up any conversation. There are very few people in the world who want to hear about the unfairness of your secretarial assignment, let me assure you. And finally, but by no means least importantly, it can not infrequently get you fired. It turns out clients don't love having their business secrets turned into your sparkling cocktail conversation.
But regardless, I have to admit that I have enjoyed having the last three days completely off. I have been to Walgreens no fewer than four times. I have eaten five hamburgers off my grill. I have laid out on my roof and read Entertainment Weekly. And most importantly, I have left my blackberry in a drawer. Without even so much as an out of office message. You see, I'm an enormous rebel. Maybe I'll ever wear short sleeves to work tomorrow.
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For a number of reasons, I am not one of those people who spends a lot of time complaining about his job. First, it doesn't really seem to do any good. No one has ever been told to take a weekend off because they were complaining about the hardness of their desk chair. Second, it is a great way to dry up any conversation. There are very few people in the world who want to hear about the unfairness of your secretarial assignment, let me assure you. And finally, but by no means least importantly, it can not infrequently get you fired. It turns out clients don't love having their business secrets turned into your sparkling cocktail conversation.
But regardless, I have to admit that I have enjoyed having the last three days completely off. I have been to Walgreens no fewer than four times. I have eaten five hamburgers off my grill. I have laid out on my roof and read Entertainment Weekly. And most importantly, I have left my blackberry in a drawer. Without even so much as an out of office message. You see, I'm an enormous rebel. Maybe I'll ever wear short sleeves to work tomorrow.
Friday, July 03, 2009
Tragically Undercelebrated Events in American History
-- Washington crossing the TJ Maxx.
-- The second, third, and fourth Thanksgivings.
-- The founding of Epcot center.
-- Lincoln's Gettysburg rap battle.
-- The signing of the Declaration of Awesomeness.
-- Jefferson's invention of the slave fuck.
-- The filming of Over Her Dead Body.
-- FDR's "Mo money, mo problems" speech.
-- Henry Ford's invention of pornographic mud flaps.
-- The Smoot-Hartley orgy.
-- The Muppet Civil War.
-- The Laverne/Shirley accord of 1978.
-- The invasion of an entire case of Burgundy.
-- Casual Fridays.
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-- Washington crossing the TJ Maxx.
-- The second, third, and fourth Thanksgivings.
-- The founding of Epcot center.
-- Lincoln's Gettysburg rap battle.
-- The signing of the Declaration of Awesomeness.
-- Jefferson's invention of the slave fuck.
-- The filming of Over Her Dead Body.
-- FDR's "Mo money, mo problems" speech.
-- Henry Ford's invention of pornographic mud flaps.
-- The Smoot-Hartley orgy.
-- The Muppet Civil War.
-- The Laverne/Shirley accord of 1978.
-- The invasion of an entire case of Burgundy.
-- Casual Fridays.
Wednesday, July 01, 2009
Sigh
Last night I had one of those phone calls with Comcast that begins with a question, escalates into a lot of angry sarcasm, and ends with a thank you. I don't know if they have special training for their customer service employees on how to enrage and perplex me, but I wouldn't be surprised. They hit all my buttons, from forcing me to describe the same problem about sixteen times to placing me on hold indiscriminately to trying to sell me unrelated goods and services. All I can say is Tanya is lucky they monitor their calls for customer service purposes; the fear of having the call serve as evidence in a criminal trial was all that kept me from some exceedingly choice words.
Perhaps by now you can tell that my technician visit for the wireless internet did not go well. In point of fact, it went fine at the time, but the wireless stopped working at all by the evening of the visit. Which was when I began to feel rather unhappy, in retrospect, about the fact that the technician had been on an exceedingly involved personal call for the duration of his visit and had therefore been unable to answer rather fundamental questions, such as "what's the password?" and "how do I use this thing?" As it turned out, Tanya from customer service could answer them no better.
So I have another service call scheduled for Friday morning. And they put a $50 credit on my account. That was where the "thank you" came from.
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Last night I had one of those phone calls with Comcast that begins with a question, escalates into a lot of angry sarcasm, and ends with a thank you. I don't know if they have special training for their customer service employees on how to enrage and perplex me, but I wouldn't be surprised. They hit all my buttons, from forcing me to describe the same problem about sixteen times to placing me on hold indiscriminately to trying to sell me unrelated goods and services. All I can say is Tanya is lucky they monitor their calls for customer service purposes; the fear of having the call serve as evidence in a criminal trial was all that kept me from some exceedingly choice words.
Perhaps by now you can tell that my technician visit for the wireless internet did not go well. In point of fact, it went fine at the time, but the wireless stopped working at all by the evening of the visit. Which was when I began to feel rather unhappy, in retrospect, about the fact that the technician had been on an exceedingly involved personal call for the duration of his visit and had therefore been unable to answer rather fundamental questions, such as "what's the password?" and "how do I use this thing?" As it turned out, Tanya from customer service could answer them no better.
So I have another service call scheduled for Friday morning. And they put a $50 credit on my account. That was where the "thank you" came from.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Transformers 2: Transformerser
Like apparently everyone else in America, I saw Transformers 2 this weekend. It was every bit as wonderfully terrible as I expected. I mean, there were jive talking robots. Jive talking robots! I'm pretty sure an NAACP Image award is right around the corner.
In case you aren't familiar with the Transformers, let me assure you that their title pretty much sums them up: they transform from one thing to another. One of the things is usually a robot. But the other thing can be all kinds of things, from a car to a boombox (boomboxes still being very current products, let me assure you) to an insect. Usually the other thing isn't something truly complicated like, say, the Mayo Clinic, but they have been known to stretch their limits a bit. As I recall there were even Transformers that turned into dinosaurs, which was pretty much childhood nirvana, although come to think of it candy-filled dinosaurs would have been even better. I'll be waiting for your call, Hasbro.
Anyway, the plot of Transformers 2 is not much more complicated than the plot of the toys, although it features a lot more of Megan Fox jiggling than your average playroom. Her entrance in the movie is accomplished bent over a motorcycle with ass and boob on full display, by the way. At my screening, the audience applauded. There's also a lot of Shia Labeouf, or the less talented half of Even Stevens, as I will always remember him. Somewhere Christy Carlson Romano is crying her eyes out.
There's also some business with pyramids and Egypt, although no mummies, which seems to me like a waste of some perfectly good Egypt. Oh, and the whole thing is two and a half hours long, so you might want to bring an extra seat cushion. I'm pretty sure Transformers 2 gave me piles.
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Like apparently everyone else in America, I saw Transformers 2 this weekend. It was every bit as wonderfully terrible as I expected. I mean, there were jive talking robots. Jive talking robots! I'm pretty sure an NAACP Image award is right around the corner.
In case you aren't familiar with the Transformers, let me assure you that their title pretty much sums them up: they transform from one thing to another. One of the things is usually a robot. But the other thing can be all kinds of things, from a car to a boombox (boomboxes still being very current products, let me assure you) to an insect. Usually the other thing isn't something truly complicated like, say, the Mayo Clinic, but they have been known to stretch their limits a bit. As I recall there were even Transformers that turned into dinosaurs, which was pretty much childhood nirvana, although come to think of it candy-filled dinosaurs would have been even better. I'll be waiting for your call, Hasbro.
Anyway, the plot of Transformers 2 is not much more complicated than the plot of the toys, although it features a lot more of Megan Fox jiggling than your average playroom. Her entrance in the movie is accomplished bent over a motorcycle with ass and boob on full display, by the way. At my screening, the audience applauded. There's also a lot of Shia Labeouf, or the less talented half of Even Stevens, as I will always remember him. Somewhere Christy Carlson Romano is crying her eyes out.
There's also some business with pyramids and Egypt, although no mummies, which seems to me like a waste of some perfectly good Egypt. Oh, and the whole thing is two and a half hours long, so you might want to bring an extra seat cushion. I'm pretty sure Transformers 2 gave me piles.
