Wednesday, October 31, 2007
How Are Americans Spending This Halloween?
23% Regretting their decision to procreate.
21% Wondering if they're too old to pull off a Spongebob Squarepants costume.
15% Writing angry letters to the editor about the heathen public school system.
12% Trying to leverage free candy x-rays into free biopsy.
11% Engaging in ill-advised hookup with non-English speaker in Cher costume.
10% Gorging self on Baby Ruths; silently weeping.
5% Being really freaked out by "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown."
2% Stocking up on pirate gear to serve their secret fetishes for the remainder of the year.
1% Trying to figure out how to get the razor blade into the damn Jujubee.
23% Regretting their decision to procreate.
21% Wondering if they're too old to pull off a Spongebob Squarepants costume.
15% Writing angry letters to the editor about the heathen public school system.
12% Trying to leverage free candy x-rays into free biopsy.
11% Engaging in ill-advised hookup with non-English speaker in Cher costume.
10% Gorging self on Baby Ruths; silently weeping.
5% Being really freaked out by "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown."
2% Stocking up on pirate gear to serve their secret fetishes for the remainder of the year.
1% Trying to figure out how to get the razor blade into the damn Jujubee.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
What Dreams May Come
I've been having bizarre dreams again lately.
For instance, last night I dreamt that a snake bit my chest and wouldn't let go. I was just walking around with a snake hanging off the front of my body. I woke up with a start and tried to brush it off. Then I went back to sleep and dreamt I was on The Facts of Life. And not The Facts of Life then, but The Facts of Life now, if it had continued on the air indefinitely. Tootie was like forty. She had the same bowl cut, though.
A few nights ago I dreamt I was hugely, massively fat. My arms were literally like ten inches around. I was eating everything in sight, including a few light appliances. But this didn't seem at all odd to me, and I was just kind of going with the flow, telling myself I was actually in pretty good shape. But then my mother and Abe Lincoln showed up to chastise me about my weight. And in the dream I'm pretty sure they were together.
I've also consistently been dreaming that I'm being asked to take the stage in an amateur production of Anything Goes! but I don't know any of my lines. So essentially, I'm still really lame, even in my dreams.
I've been having bizarre dreams again lately.
For instance, last night I dreamt that a snake bit my chest and wouldn't let go. I was just walking around with a snake hanging off the front of my body. I woke up with a start and tried to brush it off. Then I went back to sleep and dreamt I was on The Facts of Life. And not The Facts of Life then, but The Facts of Life now, if it had continued on the air indefinitely. Tootie was like forty. She had the same bowl cut, though.
A few nights ago I dreamt I was hugely, massively fat. My arms were literally like ten inches around. I was eating everything in sight, including a few light appliances. But this didn't seem at all odd to me, and I was just kind of going with the flow, telling myself I was actually in pretty good shape. But then my mother and Abe Lincoln showed up to chastise me about my weight. And in the dream I'm pretty sure they were together.
I've also consistently been dreaming that I'm being asked to take the stage in an amateur production of Anything Goes! but I don't know any of my lines. So essentially, I'm still really lame, even in my dreams.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Turn on Your TVs. Right Now.
In preparation for Halloween, the Soap Net is replaying several mid-90s episodes of Days of Our Lives in which Marlena was possessed by the devil. These are must see. Period. Bitch just transformed into a panther and mauled a religious scholar.
Plus Billie is wearing a denim jumpsuit.
And Hope has been brainwashed into thinking she's someone named Gina.
I think the big exorcism is coming up next. Good lord, why have you not turned on your TVs yet?
In preparation for Halloween, the Soap Net is replaying several mid-90s episodes of Days of Our Lives in which Marlena was possessed by the devil. These are must see. Period. Bitch just transformed into a panther and mauled a religious scholar.
Plus Billie is wearing a denim jumpsuit.
And Hope has been brainwashed into thinking she's someone named Gina.
I think the big exorcism is coming up next. Good lord, why have you not turned on your TVs yet?
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Computer World
So I got my new computer the other night. After weeks of deliberation (read: I called my parents and told them to pick one out for me) I finally ordered and picked up a laptop from Best Buy. That was kind of cool because the process took all of ten minutes from start to finish, but it did lead to me having to engage in a terrible conversation with the man in line behind me:
Man: So you bought online?
Me: Yup.
Man: Was that easy?
Me: Um, yeah, pretty easy.
Man: Did you pay with your credit card?
Me: Yes.
Man: I'm asking because I've always thought about doing that but I never have.
Me: Oh yeah?
Man: But it was easy?
Me: Yes.
Man: Interesting.
I was not surprised when it turned out he was at the service desk to get a $2 refund on the obscure horror movie he bought three days before it went on sale.
But anyway, I have a new computer now that has more features than I could ever know what to do with. Even a built in video camera, which I have yet to successfully activate. Still, this is a big step for someone who spent his formative years with a Vic 20.
So I got my new computer the other night. After weeks of deliberation (read: I called my parents and told them to pick one out for me) I finally ordered and picked up a laptop from Best Buy. That was kind of cool because the process took all of ten minutes from start to finish, but it did lead to me having to engage in a terrible conversation with the man in line behind me:
Man: So you bought online?
Me: Yup.
Man: Was that easy?
Me: Um, yeah, pretty easy.
Man: Did you pay with your credit card?
Me: Yes.
Man: I'm asking because I've always thought about doing that but I never have.
Me: Oh yeah?
Man: But it was easy?
Me: Yes.
Man: Interesting.
I was not surprised when it turned out he was at the service desk to get a $2 refund on the obscure horror movie he bought three days before it went on sale.
But anyway, I have a new computer now that has more features than I could ever know what to do with. Even a built in video camera, which I have yet to successfully activate. Still, this is a big step for someone who spent his formative years with a Vic 20.
Monday, October 22, 2007
Getting Personal
I kind of love my new personal trainer. Not only does she kick my ass with each and every workout (seriously, it turns out there are all kinds of muscles I didn't even know were real), but she frequently says unintentionally amusing things. For instance, a conversational staple for her is the phrase "I know, right?" This serves as an answer to all kinds of statements, from "the weather was nice this weekend" to "the Holocaust was kind of a downer." She also frequents the intensifiers, making every occurrence more exciting, whether it's a "super hardcore workout" or a "totally awesome Gray's Anatomy." Then there are her conversational topics, which range from "how much she loves Disney World" to "whether I've seen the movie 300" (which she has asked me every single week since I met her, in shocking disregard of the realities of Netflix listing). It's like I'm training with a seventh grade homeroom class.
And now she's asked me to write a little blurb for her to use on her personal training website. I have a feeling that I should perhaps not say all the things I've mentioned above, as many people may not see the appeal of working out with someone who thinks Apartheid was a contestant on America's Next Top Model. I guess I'll just write "really works those lats" and get on with my life.
I kind of love my new personal trainer. Not only does she kick my ass with each and every workout (seriously, it turns out there are all kinds of muscles I didn't even know were real), but she frequently says unintentionally amusing things. For instance, a conversational staple for her is the phrase "I know, right?" This serves as an answer to all kinds of statements, from "the weather was nice this weekend" to "the Holocaust was kind of a downer." She also frequents the intensifiers, making every occurrence more exciting, whether it's a "super hardcore workout" or a "totally awesome Gray's Anatomy." Then there are her conversational topics, which range from "how much she loves Disney World" to "whether I've seen the movie 300" (which she has asked me every single week since I met her, in shocking disregard of the realities of Netflix listing). It's like I'm training with a seventh grade homeroom class.
And now she's asked me to write a little blurb for her to use on her personal training website. I have a feeling that I should perhaps not say all the things I've mentioned above, as many people may not see the appeal of working out with someone who thinks Apartheid was a contestant on America's Next Top Model. I guess I'll just write "really works those lats" and get on with my life.
Saturday, October 20, 2007
To Market, To Market
This morning I had my most eventful trip to the grocery store in some time, and not just because I decided to try a new brand of granola bars for my afternoon snack. First, in the produce aisle, I was assaulted by a woman whose primary goal in life was to get me to try some bagel chips. When I demurred, I swear I actually heard her mutter an epithet under her breath. Never one to offend a lady (or be beaten down over a snack product), I relented and gave them a shot. Surprising taste, hearty consistency -- I give them at least a B.
Then, as I was checking out breakfast cereals (Captain Crunch or Lucky Charms? It's really the eternal question.), I got accosted by someone who thought she knew me.
"Mark?" she asked.
"No, sorry," I replied.
"From Trinity Lutheran?" she continued.
"Not me," I maintained.
"Oh, never mind, I thought you were Mark," she finished.
Obviously.
Finally, at the checkout counter, I was behind an old lady who appeared to be buying food to supply, well, the rest of her life. Combined with an elderly clerk who essentially confirmed each bar of the bar codes one at a time and the utter lack of a bagger at this station, this resulted in about half an hour of wait time reading about Nicole Richie's problem pregnancy. Although I did get to bag my own groceries, which was fun. I put the Wheat Thins on the bottom to provide a strong base.
This morning I had my most eventful trip to the grocery store in some time, and not just because I decided to try a new brand of granola bars for my afternoon snack. First, in the produce aisle, I was assaulted by a woman whose primary goal in life was to get me to try some bagel chips. When I demurred, I swear I actually heard her mutter an epithet under her breath. Never one to offend a lady (or be beaten down over a snack product), I relented and gave them a shot. Surprising taste, hearty consistency -- I give them at least a B.
Then, as I was checking out breakfast cereals (Captain Crunch or Lucky Charms? It's really the eternal question.), I got accosted by someone who thought she knew me.
"Mark?" she asked.
"No, sorry," I replied.
"From Trinity Lutheran?" she continued.
"Not me," I maintained.
"Oh, never mind, I thought you were Mark," she finished.
Obviously.
Finally, at the checkout counter, I was behind an old lady who appeared to be buying food to supply, well, the rest of her life. Combined with an elderly clerk who essentially confirmed each bar of the bar codes one at a time and the utter lack of a bagger at this station, this resulted in about half an hour of wait time reading about Nicole Richie's problem pregnancy. Although I did get to bag my own groceries, which was fun. I put the Wheat Thins on the bottom to provide a strong base.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
From the Department of Terrible Compliments
"You know, you kind of remind me of Wilford Brimley."
"You may well be the finest Civil War reenacter I've ever seen."
"Maybe you'll bring the Blossom look back; who knows?"
"I've always thought you'd make an excellent Price Is Right contestant."
"I can't remember meeting a less gay-acting Republican Congressman."
"No, I can't think of anyone better to play the young Liza Minnelli."
"Have you ever thought about writing for the Red Eye?"
"You're tall, you know that?"
"Your life has some surprising parallels to The Babysitter's Club Movie."
"No, I would definitely trust you over Celine Dion."
"It's amazing all the things you can make out of spam."
"Hey, are you Urkel?"
"You are the life of the Excel Training Workshop, you know that?"
"Nice job filling out that Sex Offender Registration Form!"
"You know, you kind of remind me of Wilford Brimley."
"You may well be the finest Civil War reenacter I've ever seen."
"Maybe you'll bring the Blossom look back; who knows?"
"I've always thought you'd make an excellent Price Is Right contestant."
"I can't remember meeting a less gay-acting Republican Congressman."
"No, I can't think of anyone better to play the young Liza Minnelli."
"Have you ever thought about writing for the Red Eye?"
"You're tall, you know that?"
"Your life has some surprising parallels to The Babysitter's Club Movie."
"No, I would definitely trust you over Celine Dion."
"It's amazing all the things you can make out of spam."
"Hey, are you Urkel?"
"You are the life of the Excel Training Workshop, you know that?"
"Nice job filling out that Sex Offender Registration Form!"
Monday, October 15, 2007
This is Kind of Sad, But...
My sister and I had a little Top Model photo session the other day. It was a Sunday night and we were kind of bored, so where most people would turn to alcohol, we decided instead to pull out the old digital camera. It gave my sister the change to bring out her inner Janice Dickinson, telling me that "smiling makes everyone look fat" and that "sometimes I look like I have rabies." Plus I mastered Tyra's classic distinction between a shot for a men's magazine (shoulders back) and a women's magazine (shoulders forward). Look for my spread in Seventeen later this fall.
My sister and I had a little Top Model photo session the other day. It was a Sunday night and we were kind of bored, so where most people would turn to alcohol, we decided instead to pull out the old digital camera. It gave my sister the change to bring out her inner Janice Dickinson, telling me that "smiling makes everyone look fat" and that "sometimes I look like I have rabies." Plus I mastered Tyra's classic distinction between a shot for a men's magazine (shoulders back) and a women's magazine (shoulders forward). Look for my spread in Seventeen later this fall.
This is one of the outtakes. I kind of look like I might throw up. Plus I'm clutching the brim of an imaginary top hat.
How do I manage to look surprised when I was, in fact, posing for the photograph?
Look how sporty I am! I feel like I could have my own column in Soccer Hooligan Monthly.
Here I illustrate the old maxim that glasses make you smart. I'm doing lots of difficult math in my head.
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Witness for the Prosecution
This week I got to serve as a witness for a mock trial program. This is something I enjoy because it involves messing with people's minds. While they're trying their best to abide by the rules of evidence and elicit testimony in a stylish and interesting way, I get to act like a jackass and pretend not to understand their carefully-crafted questions. I get to be cutely evasive with even the most straightforward inquiries. I get to cry on cue, if I feel like it. It's like community theater, but without all the semi-incestuous backstage romances.
The other thing that's kind of fun is that I always make up a ridiculously complicated and unnecessary backstory for my character. I like to pretend my witness lived in Guam for three years or married a motocross champion. Perhaps I'll throw in a hint of an accent (think Meryl Streep in Out of Africa) to add a hint of mystery. The only thing all my characters have in common is that they're hell on wheels for neophyte lawyers. And that's something we can all be proud of.
This week I got to serve as a witness for a mock trial program. This is something I enjoy because it involves messing with people's minds. While they're trying their best to abide by the rules of evidence and elicit testimony in a stylish and interesting way, I get to act like a jackass and pretend not to understand their carefully-crafted questions. I get to be cutely evasive with even the most straightforward inquiries. I get to cry on cue, if I feel like it. It's like community theater, but without all the semi-incestuous backstage romances.
The other thing that's kind of fun is that I always make up a ridiculously complicated and unnecessary backstory for my character. I like to pretend my witness lived in Guam for three years or married a motocross champion. Perhaps I'll throw in a hint of an accent (think Meryl Streep in Out of Africa) to add a hint of mystery. The only thing all my characters have in common is that they're hell on wheels for neophyte lawyers. And that's something we can all be proud of.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Rock On
Did anyone see the Rock of Love finale and subsequent reunion show? I don't know why I ask, because A) you really can't respond, and B) I plan on rambling about it whether anyone knows what I'm talking about or not. But regardless, I have to say I found the show pretty amazing. Not Flavor of Love: Charm School amazing (sample quote: "I am not the whore of charm school. I just love my tits."), but pretty amazing nonetheless. I enjoyed Heather's sleazy stupidness, Lacey's crazy evilness, Sam's trashy volatility, Rodeo's . . . um . . . hat, the whole bit. My favorite was Jes, though, who had the savvy to win the competition but the common sense to thereafter refuse to date Bret Michaels. If she didn't have pink hair, I might marry her myself.
The reunion show was a bit disappointing, though, as these things tend to be. I fast-forwarded through Lacey's entire "song," and I was completely distressed that there wasn't a single incident of near physical violence. Plus the host was a world-class douche. I mean, when you're hosting the reunion show for a Bret Michaels dating spectacular, you really ought to have some sense that your career hasn't gone precisely as it should. Take a lesson from La La. Girl knows how to work her shame.
Did anyone see the Rock of Love finale and subsequent reunion show? I don't know why I ask, because A) you really can't respond, and B) I plan on rambling about it whether anyone knows what I'm talking about or not. But regardless, I have to say I found the show pretty amazing. Not Flavor of Love: Charm School amazing (sample quote: "I am not the whore of charm school. I just love my tits."), but pretty amazing nonetheless. I enjoyed Heather's sleazy stupidness, Lacey's crazy evilness, Sam's trashy volatility, Rodeo's . . . um . . . hat, the whole bit. My favorite was Jes, though, who had the savvy to win the competition but the common sense to thereafter refuse to date Bret Michaels. If she didn't have pink hair, I might marry her myself.
The reunion show was a bit disappointing, though, as these things tend to be. I fast-forwarded through Lacey's entire "song," and I was completely distressed that there wasn't a single incident of near physical violence. Plus the host was a world-class douche. I mean, when you're hosting the reunion show for a Bret Michaels dating spectacular, you really ought to have some sense that your career hasn't gone precisely as it should. Take a lesson from La La. Girl knows how to work her shame.
Tuesday, October 09, 2007
From the Department of Noises You Don't Want Your Computer to Make
So there I was, Sunday afternoon, unsuspectingly typing away on some incredible post or other (likely about Top Model, if history is any indication), when my computer completely froze up and started making the most horrible clicking noise (seriously, it sounded like the noise the girl made in the commercial for The Exorcism of Emily Rose). Since I am a total computer wiz, I followed my time-honored technique of hitting ctrl-alt-delete, but nothing happened. I then turned the thing off manually, only to be greeted with the news that my hard drive was "missing" when I turned it back on. My next move, of course, was to cry, but my bitter tears seemed to lack PC-healing qualities. So a new computer, it seems, is in store.
For those of you who are unfamiliar with my computer, it is the Dell laptop I purchased from my law school back in 2000. It has a fun habit of shutting down randomly and half of the keys stick from time to time, leading to sentences like "lt's g t th bach." I have in fact heard the horrible clicking sound before, when my hard drive died during antitrust in my third year of law school (actually, I died a little bit in there every day) and dumped all of my notes for the semester. But still I hold some affection for it, as I do most destructive forces in my life.
Anyway, posting may be spotty (and a bit cleaner than usual), as I have to use my work computer until this situation is resolved.
So there I was, Sunday afternoon, unsuspectingly typing away on some incredible post or other (likely about Top Model, if history is any indication), when my computer completely froze up and started making the most horrible clicking noise (seriously, it sounded like the noise the girl made in the commercial for The Exorcism of Emily Rose). Since I am a total computer wiz, I followed my time-honored technique of hitting ctrl-alt-delete, but nothing happened. I then turned the thing off manually, only to be greeted with the news that my hard drive was "missing" when I turned it back on. My next move, of course, was to cry, but my bitter tears seemed to lack PC-healing qualities. So a new computer, it seems, is in store.
For those of you who are unfamiliar with my computer, it is the Dell laptop I purchased from my law school back in 2000. It has a fun habit of shutting down randomly and half of the keys stick from time to time, leading to sentences like "lt's g t th bach." I have in fact heard the horrible clicking sound before, when my hard drive died during antitrust in my third year of law school (actually, I died a little bit in there every day) and dumped all of my notes for the semester. But still I hold some affection for it, as I do most destructive forces in my life.
Anyway, posting may be spotty (and a bit cleaner than usual), as I have to use my work computer until this situation is resolved.
Saturday, October 06, 2007
Mr. Baseball
It has been a bad week to be a Cubs fan. It has been an even worse week to live with my sister, who loves the Cubs but flies into a violent rage whenever they screw up, as they have in fact occasionally been known to do. Thursday night I came home mid-tirade, as she forcefully calculated the amount we were paying each player per ground out and double play. I tried to cheer her up with my brand new Nancy Grace impression (the product of several Miller Lites and a whole lot of linguistic skill), but she would have none of it. I attempted an obscure yet hilarious America's Next Top Model reference -- Cycle 2, I believe -- but she merely announced that she "guessed she couldn't take it quite as lightly as I could." I ended up just going to bed after being assured that in fact she would not be over this any time soon. I dreamt that Ann Coulter was trying to eat me that night.
Today has gone better, so far, in terms of my sister's disposition if not in terms of the Cubs' play. I think it has a lot to do with the drinking. Also I made some mozz sticks. Who can stay mad when there are mozz sticks?
It has been a bad week to be a Cubs fan. It has been an even worse week to live with my sister, who loves the Cubs but flies into a violent rage whenever they screw up, as they have in fact occasionally been known to do. Thursday night I came home mid-tirade, as she forcefully calculated the amount we were paying each player per ground out and double play. I tried to cheer her up with my brand new Nancy Grace impression (the product of several Miller Lites and a whole lot of linguistic skill), but she would have none of it. I attempted an obscure yet hilarious America's Next Top Model reference -- Cycle 2, I believe -- but she merely announced that she "guessed she couldn't take it quite as lightly as I could." I ended up just going to bed after being assured that in fact she would not be over this any time soon. I dreamt that Ann Coulter was trying to eat me that night.
Today has gone better, so far, in terms of my sister's disposition if not in terms of the Cubs' play. I think it has a lot to do with the drinking. Also I made some mozz sticks. Who can stay mad when there are mozz sticks?
Thursday, October 04, 2007
Broadcast News
This morning on the train one of my fellow passengers insisted on providing a running commentary on his newspaper to pretty much everyone in the car.
"Hmmm, Cubs lost last night," he announced. "They've got another game tonight. Better not lose that one."
There was, perhaps unsurprisingly, no response. Undeterred, he continued.
"Oh, potential CTA fare hike. Don't want that. Nope, don't want that."
Nor did this intrepid entertainer shy away from political discourse.
"Barack Obama. You know he's only half black? Only half."
Why do I feel it's only a matter of time until he has his own cable news show?
This morning on the train one of my fellow passengers insisted on providing a running commentary on his newspaper to pretty much everyone in the car.
"Hmmm, Cubs lost last night," he announced. "They've got another game tonight. Better not lose that one."
There was, perhaps unsurprisingly, no response. Undeterred, he continued.
"Oh, potential CTA fare hike. Don't want that. Nope, don't want that."
Nor did this intrepid entertainer shy away from political discourse.
"Barack Obama. You know he's only half black? Only half."
Why do I feel it's only a matter of time until he has his own cable news show?
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
America's Most Wanted
One of my friends is applying to be a U.S. Attorney, so I got to have an FBI agent come to my house to interview me about her this weekend. I was expecting it to be all cloak and dagger -- I was even prepared to put on a trench coat and dark glasses and meet him in a parking garage somewhere -- but it turned out just to be a nice older guy complaining about the parking in my neighborhood and asking me what my friend and I like to do for fun. (I was half tempted to joke and say "drugs" or "run a child pornography ring," but jokes that ruin careers aren't really the funniest.) And despite the fact that he insisted on coming to my home instead of doing it over the phone, it took all of ten minutes. The most painful part was the fact that he tracked in a little bit of mud.
I do love all the questions they ask, though. I mean, where would I make friends who were members of organizations dedicated to the overthrow of the United States government? Probably not in improv class. And who would I know who has committed treason? It's not exactly littering, that's all I'm saying.
One of my friends is applying to be a U.S. Attorney, so I got to have an FBI agent come to my house to interview me about her this weekend. I was expecting it to be all cloak and dagger -- I was even prepared to put on a trench coat and dark glasses and meet him in a parking garage somewhere -- but it turned out just to be a nice older guy complaining about the parking in my neighborhood and asking me what my friend and I like to do for fun. (I was half tempted to joke and say "drugs" or "run a child pornography ring," but jokes that ruin careers aren't really the funniest.) And despite the fact that he insisted on coming to my home instead of doing it over the phone, it took all of ten minutes. The most painful part was the fact that he tracked in a little bit of mud.
I do love all the questions they ask, though. I mean, where would I make friends who were members of organizations dedicated to the overthrow of the United States government? Probably not in improv class. And who would I know who has committed treason? It's not exactly littering, that's all I'm saying.
