Saturday, February 28, 2009
Good News
It is ridiculous how excited I am that a new Subway has opened around the corner from my house. But the fact is that there is no truly close option for fast food, other than the burrito stand that is still on probation after a chicken incident I had there last summer. I mean, what am I supposed to do, walk two blocks to the McDonald's? Thank God the geniuses at Subway helped me out with their delicious lettuce substitutes and tomato-like creations.
I am also pleased to report that I taught my fifth and sixth graders again this morning without murdering anyone. I did come close. We have one student who literally does not stop talking from the minute he walks in the door. We've tried threatening him, joking with him, offering him bribes -- nothing works. And I had the distinct feeling today that he was making fun of my haircut. Next time I'm filling out the discipline referral form in advance.
It is ridiculous how excited I am that a new Subway has opened around the corner from my house. But the fact is that there is no truly close option for fast food, other than the burrito stand that is still on probation after a chicken incident I had there last summer. I mean, what am I supposed to do, walk two blocks to the McDonald's? Thank God the geniuses at Subway helped me out with their delicious lettuce substitutes and tomato-like creations.
I am also pleased to report that I taught my fifth and sixth graders again this morning without murdering anyone. I did come close. We have one student who literally does not stop talking from the minute he walks in the door. We've tried threatening him, joking with him, offering him bribes -- nothing works. And I had the distinct feeling today that he was making fun of my haircut. Next time I'm filling out the discipline referral form in advance.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
I Imagine You're Getting Tired of This Already
More scanning! More retro photos! This time I'm taking you back to the law school years, which spanned thirty pounds and five distinct personalities. I don't want to say they changed my life, but, okay, yeah, I really shouldn't say that.
We had an awards gala every year. I actually own the tux. It's great for awards galas and other events you don't particularly feel like attending.
Look, I graduated! Or just rented the outfit for an elaborately staged photo shoot. The world may never know.
I wore crazy outfits a lot in law school. I think it was probably the last gasp of my dying personality.
Champaign (or was it Urbana?) had a really rather bitchin' roller skating rink.
More scanning! More retro photos! This time I'm taking you back to the law school years, which spanned thirty pounds and five distinct personalities. I don't want to say they changed my life, but, okay, yeah, I really shouldn't say that.
We had an awards gala every year. I actually own the tux. It's great for awards galas and other events you don't particularly feel like attending.
Look, I graduated! Or just rented the outfit for an elaborately staged photo shoot. The world may never know.
I wore crazy outfits a lot in law school. I think it was probably the last gasp of my dying personality.
Champaign (or was it Urbana?) had a really rather bitchin' roller skating rink.
I would soon come to find out that the facts of life were not, in fact, all about me.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Aftermath
I hadn't really planned on writing anything else about the Oscars. Since I had so little interest in any of the nominated films or actors this year, I figured I'd just toss of my little preview and be done with it. But then I saw the show. And my eyes, frankly, are still burning. I'm fairly convinced that it managed to actually somehow make me hate all movies. I think they could probably put out a buddy comedy costarring Jesus and R. Kelly tomorrow and I wouldn't want to go. I'd be too afraid Hugh Jackman would show up and sing, frankly.
I have to admit I was skeptical about Jackman from the beginning. I mean, apart from strapping on muttonchops and a couple of pairs of scissors to play that beloved literary figure Wolverine, he's mainly known as a song and dance man. And what is it that people most hate about the Oscars? The production numbers. Whether it's a tap dance salute to Holocaust dramas or the Osmonds' exploration of funky street style, it's bound to be awful. So Jackman's decision to double down on awkward warbling was particularly troubling. And I honestly believe that Anne Hathaway should have had her nomination stripped solely for playing along.
Oh, and the awkward monologues from past winners. Horrifying. Was the idea to punish this year's acting nominees by forcing them to smile awkwardly for two minutes while Whoopi Goldberg tells them they're awesome because they also played nuns just like she once did? Because I'd much rather hear what Alan Arkin thinks of any given performance than, oh I don't know, actually see a little bit of that performance. I honestly think I am suffering from post traumatic stress syndrome.
I hadn't really planned on writing anything else about the Oscars. Since I had so little interest in any of the nominated films or actors this year, I figured I'd just toss of my little preview and be done with it. But then I saw the show. And my eyes, frankly, are still burning. I'm fairly convinced that it managed to actually somehow make me hate all movies. I think they could probably put out a buddy comedy costarring Jesus and R. Kelly tomorrow and I wouldn't want to go. I'd be too afraid Hugh Jackman would show up and sing, frankly.
I have to admit I was skeptical about Jackman from the beginning. I mean, apart from strapping on muttonchops and a couple of pairs of scissors to play that beloved literary figure Wolverine, he's mainly known as a song and dance man. And what is it that people most hate about the Oscars? The production numbers. Whether it's a tap dance salute to Holocaust dramas or the Osmonds' exploration of funky street style, it's bound to be awful. So Jackman's decision to double down on awkward warbling was particularly troubling. And I honestly believe that Anne Hathaway should have had her nomination stripped solely for playing along.
Oh, and the awkward monologues from past winners. Horrifying. Was the idea to punish this year's acting nominees by forcing them to smile awkwardly for two minutes while Whoopi Goldberg tells them they're awesome because they also played nuns just like she once did? Because I'd much rather hear what Alan Arkin thinks of any given performance than, oh I don't know, actually see a little bit of that performance. I honestly think I am suffering from post traumatic stress syndrome.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
The Academy Awards Drinking Game
As with any drinking game, the point is to get wasted beyond the point science has led us to believe is possible:
-- Take 2 drinks any time Hugh Jackman makes a joke that bombs.
-- 3 drinks if he's involved in a song and dance number. You will need them.
-- Take 1 drink for each time someone attempts to cash in on the memory of Heath Ledger.
-- With an additional drink if he gets the most applause in the "In Memoriam" montage.
-- Take 3 drinks if Kate Winslet acts incredibly surprised by her entirely expected Oscar win.
-- Take 4 drinks if Sean Young is anywhere in the room.
-- And take them quickly before Sean Young takes them herself.
-- Take 1 drink each time a presenter subtly tries to demonstrate that he or she did not write the terrible copy on the teleprompter.
-- Take 1 drink for each awkward confrontation between Jennifer Aniston and Angelina Jolie.
-- And 2 drinks for the far greater number of times that some breathless red carpet commentator attempts to manufacture such a confrontation.
-- Take 3 drinks if Meryl Streep shows up not wearing a bra.
-- Take 1 drink each time there is a tribute montage to some genre or issue you did not know existed.
-- With an additional drink for each celebrity you spot nodding off during said tribute.
-- Take 1 drink per minute the broadcast drags past the three hour mark. Warning: stop before you die.
As with any drinking game, the point is to get wasted beyond the point science has led us to believe is possible:
-- Take 2 drinks any time Hugh Jackman makes a joke that bombs.
-- 3 drinks if he's involved in a song and dance number. You will need them.
-- Take 1 drink for each time someone attempts to cash in on the memory of Heath Ledger.
-- With an additional drink if he gets the most applause in the "In Memoriam" montage.
-- Take 3 drinks if Kate Winslet acts incredibly surprised by her entirely expected Oscar win.
-- Take 4 drinks if Sean Young is anywhere in the room.
-- And take them quickly before Sean Young takes them herself.
-- Take 1 drink each time a presenter subtly tries to demonstrate that he or she did not write the terrible copy on the teleprompter.
-- Take 1 drink for each awkward confrontation between Jennifer Aniston and Angelina Jolie.
-- And 2 drinks for the far greater number of times that some breathless red carpet commentator attempts to manufacture such a confrontation.
-- Take 3 drinks if Meryl Streep shows up not wearing a bra.
-- Take 1 drink each time there is a tribute montage to some genre or issue you did not know existed.
-- With an additional drink for each celebrity you spot nodding off during said tribute.
-- Take 1 drink per minute the broadcast drags past the three hour mark. Warning: stop before you die.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Furnace to the Fire
We have a lovely little man who comes to look at our hearing and air conditioning system every six months. He brings knee pads and a vacuum and crawls around poking at things and fretting about fan belts and batteries and the like. His moral disapprobation of a dirty humidifier is to be feared and his praise for a regularly-changed furnace filter is to be most fervently sought after. He even brings a little laptop and portable printer to create the invoice when all is said and done. He is, in short, a god among men.
Unfortunately, I find myself wholly unable to live up to his standard. Each time he visits, he wants to explain my furnace to me in great detail. He wants me to see the impact of an improperly-set humidifier control. He wants to prove to me the near-deadness of the battery that starts the fan motor. He wants me to know that I don't have to put the filter cover on if I don't want to. And I have no idea how to respond to any of this. Frankly, I'd much rather hide in my room and watch Reba reruns on Lifetime. But his seriousness of purpose intimidates me into nodding my head a lot and saying "wow" and "right, that makes sense." I feel like the world's worst furnace owner.
We spent an hour and a half together this week. But it seemed like a lifetime. A beautiful dream of how heating and cooling should be.
We have a lovely little man who comes to look at our hearing and air conditioning system every six months. He brings knee pads and a vacuum and crawls around poking at things and fretting about fan belts and batteries and the like. His moral disapprobation of a dirty humidifier is to be feared and his praise for a regularly-changed furnace filter is to be most fervently sought after. He even brings a little laptop and portable printer to create the invoice when all is said and done. He is, in short, a god among men.
Unfortunately, I find myself wholly unable to live up to his standard. Each time he visits, he wants to explain my furnace to me in great detail. He wants me to see the impact of an improperly-set humidifier control. He wants to prove to me the near-deadness of the battery that starts the fan motor. He wants me to know that I don't have to put the filter cover on if I don't want to. And I have no idea how to respond to any of this. Frankly, I'd much rather hide in my room and watch Reba reruns on Lifetime. But his seriousness of purpose intimidates me into nodding my head a lot and saying "wow" and "right, that makes sense." I feel like the world's worst furnace owner.
We spent an hour and a half together this week. But it seemed like a lifetime. A beautiful dream of how heating and cooling should be.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Sadness
I finally saw The Wrestler tonight. I have to say I didn't think it was all that spectacular. I mean, the best thing about it was Evan Rachel Wood, and she's always terrified me, even before she started in with that Marilyn Manson business. Marisa Tomei I think managed to garner another Oscar nomination based primarily on elderly Academy voters' thankfulness that she would so graciously show them her tits. Mickey Rourke was -- well, I mean, I feel bad for the guy, but come on, it's not like he's really stretching to play a washed up dude with a screwed up face. Although if he actually took those staples himself I have to say I'm pretty impressed.
And while we're on the subject, I would have appreciated a little bit less of the nasty blood and guts business. I could have gone my entire life without seeing someone pull bits of barbed wire out of their skin. This is why my whole life I've gone to the opera or the symphony instead of the wrestling match -- it's quite rare that a mezzo-soprano or trombonist opens up a can of whupass on anyone.
I mean, don't get me wrong, it was certainly a well made movie. But it's one of those things where you have to go in prepared to feel bad for people for a couple of hours. And right now I'm way to busy feeling bad for myself. I mean, you should have seen some of these snippy emails I got from people today!
I finally saw The Wrestler tonight. I have to say I didn't think it was all that spectacular. I mean, the best thing about it was Evan Rachel Wood, and she's always terrified me, even before she started in with that Marilyn Manson business. Marisa Tomei I think managed to garner another Oscar nomination based primarily on elderly Academy voters' thankfulness that she would so graciously show them her tits. Mickey Rourke was -- well, I mean, I feel bad for the guy, but come on, it's not like he's really stretching to play a washed up dude with a screwed up face. Although if he actually took those staples himself I have to say I'm pretty impressed.
And while we're on the subject, I would have appreciated a little bit less of the nasty blood and guts business. I could have gone my entire life without seeing someone pull bits of barbed wire out of their skin. This is why my whole life I've gone to the opera or the symphony instead of the wrestling match -- it's quite rare that a mezzo-soprano or trombonist opens up a can of whupass on anyone.
I mean, don't get me wrong, it was certainly a well made movie. But it's one of those things where you have to go in prepared to feel bad for people for a couple of hours. And right now I'm way to busy feeling bad for myself. I mean, you should have seen some of these snippy emails I got from people today!
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Exciting New Friends!
I checked my Friendster profile (yes, Friendster still exists) for the first time in like a month recently, and it turns out I've attracted all sorts of great new friends in my absence! For instance, I received the following great message from one Ena, who appears to be a buxom blonde:
Do you still remember me? I creaded one new profile., You can go there to find me. I've moved my profile bacause friendster won'y allow me to post some of my nude modeling pictures. you can pick up my information at my profile.
Wow! Ena sounds great. I'd really like to see those nude modeling pictures. Boo on Friendster for not letting her post them. But wait! I also have a message from Deidre, a sassy redhead in a bikini:
I am off saturday you are mine beeeyatch lol!!!!!, btw u didn't call me back and I am curious about what happened! You know I wanna know it all! This is the detail.
Hmmm. I somehow don't remember receiving a call from Deidre, but I feel terrible about not returning her message. I guess we can talk about it when we meet on Saturday. Except it turns out I have a competing offer for Saturday from Candy, who hasn't posted a picture but is undoubtedly really hot:
Just a reminder. Me and the Band will be live at Texas Nite Life in WICHITA FALLS tonight Nite Feb 21 @ 9 pm! 17 and up welcome .. If you love to Boot Scoot..Then then come party with us this to Nite! See ya the url!
The thing is, I really do love to Boot Scoot. Although Wichita Falls is kind of far. Hopefully Deidre is local.
I checked my Friendster profile (yes, Friendster still exists) for the first time in like a month recently, and it turns out I've attracted all sorts of great new friends in my absence! For instance, I received the following great message from one Ena, who appears to be a buxom blonde:
Do you still remember me? I creaded one new profile., You can go there to find me. I've moved my profile bacause friendster won'y allow me to post some of my nude modeling pictures. you can pick up my information at my profile.
Wow! Ena sounds great. I'd really like to see those nude modeling pictures. Boo on Friendster for not letting her post them. But wait! I also have a message from Deidre, a sassy redhead in a bikini:
I am off saturday you are mine beeeyatch lol!!!!!, btw u didn't call me back and I am curious about what happened! You know I wanna know it all! This is the detail.
Hmmm. I somehow don't remember receiving a call from Deidre, but I feel terrible about not returning her message. I guess we can talk about it when we meet on Saturday. Except it turns out I have a competing offer for Saturday from Candy, who hasn't posted a picture but is undoubtedly really hot:
Just a reminder. Me and the Band will be live at Texas Nite Life in WICHITA FALLS tonight Nite Feb 21 @ 9 pm! 17 and up welcome .. If you love to Boot Scoot..Then then come party with us this to Nite! See ya the url!
The thing is, I really do love to Boot Scoot. Although Wichita Falls is kind of far. Hopefully Deidre is local.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Alanis-Style Irony
It seems like ever since I got an HD TV there hasn't been anything on worth watching. Forgive me, but I somehow don't feel the need to see Tool Academy pop out of my screen in high resolution. If I even flip past CNN I fear I will fall into the crags on Larry King's face. And it turns out they didn't even film Golden Girls reruns in HD. (I had assumed they reassembled the cast with a fabulous array of padded jackets and refilmed everything for this brave new era.) I mean, I get kind of a kick out of The Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer with Jessica Alba's horrible line readings as sharp and clear as ever one could imagine, but is it too much to ask for a good movie to be on HBO every now and then?
Ah, who am I kidding? It's Friday night and I just watched a good half of The Rules of Attraction, a movie I didn't even like the first time I saw it. I'm frankly too tired even to change the channel. I've reached the point where successfully grocery shopping on a Friday night is a huge night out for me. And even then I forgot the butter. 31 is going to be a very exciting age.
It seems like ever since I got an HD TV there hasn't been anything on worth watching. Forgive me, but I somehow don't feel the need to see Tool Academy pop out of my screen in high resolution. If I even flip past CNN I fear I will fall into the crags on Larry King's face. And it turns out they didn't even film Golden Girls reruns in HD. (I had assumed they reassembled the cast with a fabulous array of padded jackets and refilmed everything for this brave new era.) I mean, I get kind of a kick out of The Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer with Jessica Alba's horrible line readings as sharp and clear as ever one could imagine, but is it too much to ask for a good movie to be on HBO every now and then?
Ah, who am I kidding? It's Friday night and I just watched a good half of The Rules of Attraction, a movie I didn't even like the first time I saw it. I'm frankly too tired even to change the channel. I've reached the point where successfully grocery shopping on a Friday night is a huge night out for me. And even then I forgot the butter. 31 is going to be a very exciting age.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
How Are We Spending Our Valentine's Days?
-- Rinsing, repeating.
-- Rejoicing in the return of the hit Bravo reality series The Millionaire Matchmaker.
-- Making sure the bushes we're hiding in don't shake noticeably.
-- Clarifying our Yaz commercials.
-- Masturbating to The Rachel Maddow Show.
-- Developing early onset diabetes.
-- Crocheting hats.
-- Writing angry letters to match.com.
-- Crushing and snorting candy hearts.
-- Wondering why they never made a Pretty Woman 2: Prettier Woman.
-- Hating the person who bought us the fruit bouquet.
-- Attending a midnight showing of Hotel for Dogs.
-- Rinsing, repeating.
-- Rejoicing in the return of the hit Bravo reality series The Millionaire Matchmaker.
-- Making sure the bushes we're hiding in don't shake noticeably.
-- Clarifying our Yaz commercials.
-- Masturbating to The Rachel Maddow Show.
-- Developing early onset diabetes.
-- Crocheting hats.
-- Writing angry letters to match.com.
-- Crushing and snorting candy hearts.
-- Wondering why they never made a Pretty Woman 2: Prettier Woman.
-- Hating the person who bought us the fruit bouquet.
-- Attending a midnight showing of Hotel for Dogs.
Sunday, February 08, 2009
Uh oh. Look Who Got a Scanner.
I decided to buy myself a cheapo scanner for my birthday so I could save my treasured memories forever in digital form. Well, that, and also so I could avoid having to come up with anything original for the blog. Now whenever I get lazy I can scan in some old pictures and append some pithy comments. For example:
We used to do this thing where we would see how many bottles of Boone's Farm we could chug in fifteen minutes. Which is a shame, because everyone knows that fine wine is meant to be savored.
We were at the Haunted Mansion in Disney World. And also, that's how my face genuinely used to look all the time.
I spent an entire year talking to my friend Renee on the phone before we realized our apartments were so close together we could actually see each other from the windows. Although admittedly not very well.
Easily half of my college career was spent attending various formals and semi-formals. How else is one supposed to learn the lyrics to Baby Got Back?
I decided to buy myself a cheapo scanner for my birthday so I could save my treasured memories forever in digital form. Well, that, and also so I could avoid having to come up with anything original for the blog. Now whenever I get lazy I can scan in some old pictures and append some pithy comments. For example:
We used to do this thing where we would see how many bottles of Boone's Farm we could chug in fifteen minutes. Which is a shame, because everyone knows that fine wine is meant to be savored.
We were at the Haunted Mansion in Disney World. And also, that's how my face genuinely used to look all the time.
I spent an entire year talking to my friend Renee on the phone before we realized our apartments were so close together we could actually see each other from the windows. Although admittedly not very well.
Easily half of my college career was spent attending various formals and semi-formals. How else is one supposed to learn the lyrics to Baby Got Back?Thursday, February 05, 2009
Losing It
After having the same el card for about three years, I have now lost the damn thing twice in the scope of approximately three weeks. It is completely mystifying to me. Where could it possibly go? And how could I not notice? Both times I have tried to convince myself that someone obviously stole it, rendering the whole thing completely not my fault, but both times I checked online and no one has tried to use it. So it really is just me. Perhaps I'm entering some sort of altered state and chucking it down the heating vent? I don't want to completely rule out demonic possession here.
These incidents come right on the heels of the incredible occasion when I managed to accidentally toss my security ID down the crack between the elevator and the 41st floor. I grieved that thing for a full two hours before a secretary found it sitting on the ledge a few floors down and brought it to my office. It was as though I was reunited with my lost child -- I was seriously that pathetically happy. I really do think I may need professional help.
After having the same el card for about three years, I have now lost the damn thing twice in the scope of approximately three weeks. It is completely mystifying to me. Where could it possibly go? And how could I not notice? Both times I have tried to convince myself that someone obviously stole it, rendering the whole thing completely not my fault, but both times I checked online and no one has tried to use it. So it really is just me. Perhaps I'm entering some sort of altered state and chucking it down the heating vent? I don't want to completely rule out demonic possession here.
These incidents come right on the heels of the incredible occasion when I managed to accidentally toss my security ID down the crack between the elevator and the 41st floor. I grieved that thing for a full two hours before a secretary found it sitting on the ledge a few floors down and brought it to my office. It was as though I was reunited with my lost child -- I was seriously that pathetically happy. I really do think I may need professional help.
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
Ain't Nuthin But A Number
Tomorrow is the day I actually turn 31. This is an age that seems like a staggering sum to me. When I was 25, I thought I could never date anyone who was 30. I actually still feel that way. I'm more into high school students. Well, it depends on the age of consent in your locality.
Anyway, despite all of my best efforts to the contrary, I continue to age. I have now reached a point where I would rather sleep than go out and I don't recognize a single artist on MTV. I actually have to watch what I eat, though I haven't exactly ruled out the Fruity Pebbles entirely. I take fish oil pills for my cholesterol. Oh, and I have bad knees. An oatmeal diet and a Rascal scooter from Electric Mobility cannot be that far off, I tell you.
In a way I enjoy it, though, I have to say. Being a teenager was awesome and hilarious and all, but being an adult is far more restful. Plus I have nicer things. It turns out having a job is good for something.
Tomorrow is the day I actually turn 31. This is an age that seems like a staggering sum to me. When I was 25, I thought I could never date anyone who was 30. I actually still feel that way. I'm more into high school students. Well, it depends on the age of consent in your locality.
Anyway, despite all of my best efforts to the contrary, I continue to age. I have now reached a point where I would rather sleep than go out and I don't recognize a single artist on MTV. I actually have to watch what I eat, though I haven't exactly ruled out the Fruity Pebbles entirely. I take fish oil pills for my cholesterol. Oh, and I have bad knees. An oatmeal diet and a Rascal scooter from Electric Mobility cannot be that far off, I tell you.
In a way I enjoy it, though, I have to say. Being a teenager was awesome and hilarious and all, but being an adult is far more restful. Plus I have nicer things. It turns out having a job is good for something.
