Thursday, December 30, 2010
The Year That Was
Well, 2010 is limping to a close. What's really sort of fascinating to me is that looking at a list of world events from 2010, probably a quarter of them are things of which I wasn't even aware. There was suicide bombing at a volleyball game in Pakistan? I mean, it certainly sounds plausible. An Ethiopian Airlines flight crashed? I guess I'd have to start by knowing that there is an Ethiopian Airlines. So yeah, the moral of that particular story is shame on me, I guess. Maybe I need to watch a little less Oxygen and a little more PBS.
Anyway, there were a lot of highlights to 2010, I guess. The miniseries Marry Me starring Lucy Liu debuted on the Lifetime network, for one thing. KFC introduced the Double Down. The Burlesque trailed delighted fans of ironic enjoyment everywhere. And I finally unlocked the mirror image levels on Mario Kart.
On the downside, well, there was that horrible Ethiopian Airlines crash. And that Proactiv ad where Katy Perry yells "I'm talking about zits here, people!" I also wasn't such a fan of oral surgery, although I did enjoy the painkillers afterwards. They're actually useful in a lot of social situations. Oh, and the very existence of Shrek 4 makes it hard for me to believe in the simultaneous existence of a just and merciful god.
Of course, it's impossible to predict what 2011 will hold, but at least I can feel pretty confident that I don't even know another six people who can get married this year.
Well, 2010 is limping to a close. What's really sort of fascinating to me is that looking at a list of world events from 2010, probably a quarter of them are things of which I wasn't even aware. There was suicide bombing at a volleyball game in Pakistan? I mean, it certainly sounds plausible. An Ethiopian Airlines flight crashed? I guess I'd have to start by knowing that there is an Ethiopian Airlines. So yeah, the moral of that particular story is shame on me, I guess. Maybe I need to watch a little less Oxygen and a little more PBS.
Anyway, there were a lot of highlights to 2010, I guess. The miniseries Marry Me starring Lucy Liu debuted on the Lifetime network, for one thing. KFC introduced the Double Down. The Burlesque trailed delighted fans of ironic enjoyment everywhere. And I finally unlocked the mirror image levels on Mario Kart.
On the downside, well, there was that horrible Ethiopian Airlines crash. And that Proactiv ad where Katy Perry yells "I'm talking about zits here, people!" I also wasn't such a fan of oral surgery, although I did enjoy the painkillers afterwards. They're actually useful in a lot of social situations. Oh, and the very existence of Shrek 4 makes it hard for me to believe in the simultaneous existence of a just and merciful god.
Of course, it's impossible to predict what 2011 will hold, but at least I can feel pretty confident that I don't even know another six people who can get married this year.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Back to Back
I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but AMC has been showing all of the Back to the Future movies in a row lately. This, of course, is enough to kill an elderly person, so I've made sure my grandmother's TV is trained squarely on Wolf Blitzer where it belongs. Now, I was every bit as much of a Zemekishead as everyone else when the first movie came out. I thought it was hip to be square and bought a puffy vest at the Chess King like most youths my age. I convinced my mother to let me see the second movie in theaters even though it had mild profanity and boob jokes in it. And I even excused the presence of Mary Steenburgen in the third movie as just some mild flirtation with lameness, like, say, an extended locomotive sequence or the excessive use of the insult "chicken." But now I have questions. Lots of questions.
To begin with, I'm not sure I fully understand the science of time travel. What is the significance of 88 miles per hour? Is that just the fastest they could get a DeLorean to go? And why was it not okay for me to drive that fast when I was coming back from working on my German class project during junior year of high school?
Also, when you change the past such that your mother and father never met and you weren’t born, why do you and your siblings disappear slowly and one at a time? And in relatively uninspiring CGI?
Why was the technology for hoverboards and hovercars so good in 2015 when the technology for old age makeup was still so bad? And what happened to make the girl who used to play Jennifer turn into Elisabeth Shue? Why couldn’t it also turn Christopher Lloyd into someone less intense?
I can only pray that someday they’ll have the science to help me with all of the vital issues.
I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but AMC has been showing all of the Back to the Future movies in a row lately. This, of course, is enough to kill an elderly person, so I've made sure my grandmother's TV is trained squarely on Wolf Blitzer where it belongs. Now, I was every bit as much of a Zemekishead as everyone else when the first movie came out. I thought it was hip to be square and bought a puffy vest at the Chess King like most youths my age. I convinced my mother to let me see the second movie in theaters even though it had mild profanity and boob jokes in it. And I even excused the presence of Mary Steenburgen in the third movie as just some mild flirtation with lameness, like, say, an extended locomotive sequence or the excessive use of the insult "chicken." But now I have questions. Lots of questions.
To begin with, I'm not sure I fully understand the science of time travel. What is the significance of 88 miles per hour? Is that just the fastest they could get a DeLorean to go? And why was it not okay for me to drive that fast when I was coming back from working on my German class project during junior year of high school?
Also, when you change the past such that your mother and father never met and you weren’t born, why do you and your siblings disappear slowly and one at a time? And in relatively uninspiring CGI?
Why was the technology for hoverboards and hovercars so good in 2015 when the technology for old age makeup was still so bad? And what happened to make the girl who used to play Jennifer turn into Elisabeth Shue? Why couldn’t it also turn Christopher Lloyd into someone less intense?
I can only pray that someday they’ll have the science to help me with all of the vital issues.
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Happy Holidays!
I can’t tell you how badly I wanted to phone it in for my annual holiday greetings this year. I mean, it would be so easy to just slap some random comments about syphilis and how Santa resembles a child molester on a card bearing some faux Victorian print, throw in an insert full of '90s pop culture references and whitewashed accounts of my personal and professional exploits (i.e. "caught with a hooker" becomes "made lots of new friends") and ask my secretary to hand write personal messages (like "Happy Holidays!" or "Congratulations on your Vasectomy!") without misspelling people’s names in any way that doesn’t vastly improve them (sorry, Mykell and Merrilyn, it’s just not happening). Then I could just drop them in the mail, postage due, and head home to learn some life lessons from a Reba marathon on Lifetime. But as much as I hate effort and love sassy redheads, I knew that I had a Moral Obligation (TM) to draw questionable parallels between Black Friday and the Boston Massacre and speculate wildly about the deviant sexuality of the Seven Lords a Leaping. And so here I am, facing a blank page with a fun size bag of Cheeseburger Doritos and, of course, a sense of abject terror.
But then again, aren’t the holidays really meant to be a time of joy and terror? For example, being surrounded by friends and family is a joy, but listening to your Aunt Cheryl describe her recent colonoscopy while messily devouring a plate of creamed corn is terrifying. Getting the Masters of the Universe shrinky dink set you begged your parents for is a joy, but thereafter having your failure to complete the Skeletor shrinky dink constantly turned into a convenient metaphor for all of your shortcomings is terrifying. Decorating for the holidays is a joy, but picking brown pine needles out of your soup through mid-March is... well, at least mildly distressing. None of this is exactly likely to be the subject of a Dan Brown thriller any time soon (although The Mistletoe Cabal does have a nice ring to it), but it can take its toll. That’s why the wise men brought Frankincense to the first Christmas; that shit can really take the edge off if you smoke it.
I am afraid I have never been that wise, however. Without the aid of any chemicals besides perhaps a Jolt Cola, I spent my formative Christmases in a polyester choral robe creating a fire hazard by wielding a lit candle and performing B-side carols for various rotary clubs, nursing homes, and other venues with tenuous grips on the concept of entertainment. One year I went door to door for a holiday food drive and was both threatened with tazing and introduced to the concept of sex by an especially enthusiastic Schnauzer. In college, I sustained a nasty hot glue gun burn attempting to fashion a life-sized nativity scene out of construction paper and had to make the most embarrassing trip to campus health services since Felicity’s friend asked for the morning after pill. Subsequent holidays have found me dropping my ninety-something-year-old grandmother in the snow on her front lawn and throwing up in the kitchen of a Cracker Barrel. I’m not saying that the holidays are trying to kill me, but I am looking into Rudolph, the Red Nosed Reindeer’s alibi for the evening of December 22, 2004. At a showing of Adam Sandler’s Spanglish, my ass.
As for my alibi, it’s been another busy year. I had two trials, one of which was for a multi-billion dollar real estate investment fund and one of which was for a white supremacist with face tattoos. I had six weddings, which pushed my ability to do the chicken dance and make small talk with elderly people to the very brink. And in the watershed month of July 2010, I had that legendarily winning combination of jury duty, oral surgery, and an IRS audit. I’m pretty sure that was cosmic punishment for last year’s holiday message. But regardless, I will tempt fate by wishing you all the happiest of holidays and the best of new years.
I can’t tell you how badly I wanted to phone it in for my annual holiday greetings this year. I mean, it would be so easy to just slap some random comments about syphilis and how Santa resembles a child molester on a card bearing some faux Victorian print, throw in an insert full of '90s pop culture references and whitewashed accounts of my personal and professional exploits (i.e. "caught with a hooker" becomes "made lots of new friends") and ask my secretary to hand write personal messages (like "Happy Holidays!" or "Congratulations on your Vasectomy!") without misspelling people’s names in any way that doesn’t vastly improve them (sorry, Mykell and Merrilyn, it’s just not happening). Then I could just drop them in the mail, postage due, and head home to learn some life lessons from a Reba marathon on Lifetime. But as much as I hate effort and love sassy redheads, I knew that I had a Moral Obligation (TM) to draw questionable parallels between Black Friday and the Boston Massacre and speculate wildly about the deviant sexuality of the Seven Lords a Leaping. And so here I am, facing a blank page with a fun size bag of Cheeseburger Doritos and, of course, a sense of abject terror.
But then again, aren’t the holidays really meant to be a time of joy and terror? For example, being surrounded by friends and family is a joy, but listening to your Aunt Cheryl describe her recent colonoscopy while messily devouring a plate of creamed corn is terrifying. Getting the Masters of the Universe shrinky dink set you begged your parents for is a joy, but thereafter having your failure to complete the Skeletor shrinky dink constantly turned into a convenient metaphor for all of your shortcomings is terrifying. Decorating for the holidays is a joy, but picking brown pine needles out of your soup through mid-March is... well, at least mildly distressing. None of this is exactly likely to be the subject of a Dan Brown thriller any time soon (although The Mistletoe Cabal does have a nice ring to it), but it can take its toll. That’s why the wise men brought Frankincense to the first Christmas; that shit can really take the edge off if you smoke it.
I am afraid I have never been that wise, however. Without the aid of any chemicals besides perhaps a Jolt Cola, I spent my formative Christmases in a polyester choral robe creating a fire hazard by wielding a lit candle and performing B-side carols for various rotary clubs, nursing homes, and other venues with tenuous grips on the concept of entertainment. One year I went door to door for a holiday food drive and was both threatened with tazing and introduced to the concept of sex by an especially enthusiastic Schnauzer. In college, I sustained a nasty hot glue gun burn attempting to fashion a life-sized nativity scene out of construction paper and had to make the most embarrassing trip to campus health services since Felicity’s friend asked for the morning after pill. Subsequent holidays have found me dropping my ninety-something-year-old grandmother in the snow on her front lawn and throwing up in the kitchen of a Cracker Barrel. I’m not saying that the holidays are trying to kill me, but I am looking into Rudolph, the Red Nosed Reindeer’s alibi for the evening of December 22, 2004. At a showing of Adam Sandler’s Spanglish, my ass.
As for my alibi, it’s been another busy year. I had two trials, one of which was for a multi-billion dollar real estate investment fund and one of which was for a white supremacist with face tattoos. I had six weddings, which pushed my ability to do the chicken dance and make small talk with elderly people to the very brink. And in the watershed month of July 2010, I had that legendarily winning combination of jury duty, oral surgery, and an IRS audit. I’m pretty sure that was cosmic punishment for last year’s holiday message. But regardless, I will tempt fate by wishing you all the happiest of holidays and the best of new years.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Holiday In
I'm back in Quincy for Christmas. I almost wrote "for the holidays," but then I remembered the War on Christmas, and decided not to become an enemy combatant. Anyway, the main difference between being in Quincy and being in Chicago so far has been that I'm working at my parents' dining room table as opposed to my desk in my office. It is better, to an extent, although I miss the ice machine in the break room. And the free donuts on Saturdays.
It's hard to choose a highlight of the trip so far, but I think it would have to be stopping to eat at the Bloomington Chili's. They had a deal where you could get two entrees and an appetizer for $20. And no, I didn't eat both entrees myself; my sister was there. I've also gotten caught up on Y&R at my grandmother's house. Today there was a holiday-themed episode where Victor entertained ghosts of Christmas past, present, and future, most of whom were ladies he had previously boned.
The lowlight has probably been realizing that I recognized someone on Days of Our Lives from a Lifetime movie. Of course, it's good that I now understand that I need help.
I'm back in Quincy for Christmas. I almost wrote "for the holidays," but then I remembered the War on Christmas, and decided not to become an enemy combatant. Anyway, the main difference between being in Quincy and being in Chicago so far has been that I'm working at my parents' dining room table as opposed to my desk in my office. It is better, to an extent, although I miss the ice machine in the break room. And the free donuts on Saturdays.
It's hard to choose a highlight of the trip so far, but I think it would have to be stopping to eat at the Bloomington Chili's. They had a deal where you could get two entrees and an appetizer for $20. And no, I didn't eat both entrees myself; my sister was there. I've also gotten caught up on Y&R at my grandmother's house. Today there was a holiday-themed episode where Victor entertained ghosts of Christmas past, present, and future, most of whom were ladies he had previously boned.
The lowlight has probably been realizing that I recognized someone on Days of Our Lives from a Lifetime movie. Of course, it's good that I now understand that I need help.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Pharmacy Phun
I think I am being stalked by my pharmacy.
You see, I take these fish oil pills for cholesterol. Not because I have high cholesterol, mind you, but because I mentioned to my doctor once that my father had high cholesterol, which made him think, hey, we might as well force this guy to take a horrible-tasting pill twice a day for the rest of his life. It's especially delicious with milk.
But anyway, at some point my pharmacy just began automatically filling my prescription for these pills despite the fact that I had never asked them to do so. So now I just get robocalls, once a month, reprimanding me for not picking up a prescription I had no idea was coming.
Except recently it's been like once a week. And I have all these extra pills just stacking up at home. They just keep calling me to pick them up. If it were painkillers or something else wonderful, I might not mind, but seriously, cranky pharmacy robot lady, I do not need to hear from you.
So to review: I am getting repeated calls about orders I did not place for pills I already have too many of and do not like or need in the first place. Ah, the American Dream.
I think I am being stalked by my pharmacy.
You see, I take these fish oil pills for cholesterol. Not because I have high cholesterol, mind you, but because I mentioned to my doctor once that my father had high cholesterol, which made him think, hey, we might as well force this guy to take a horrible-tasting pill twice a day for the rest of his life. It's especially delicious with milk.
But anyway, at some point my pharmacy just began automatically filling my prescription for these pills despite the fact that I had never asked them to do so. So now I just get robocalls, once a month, reprimanding me for not picking up a prescription I had no idea was coming.
Except recently it's been like once a week. And I have all these extra pills just stacking up at home. They just keep calling me to pick them up. If it were painkillers or something else wonderful, I might not mind, but seriously, cranky pharmacy robot lady, I do not need to hear from you.
So to review: I am getting repeated calls about orders I did not place for pills I already have too many of and do not like or need in the first place. Ah, the American Dream.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
What Are Our Holiday Plans?
-- Lurking in bushes, sharpening knife.
-- Creating three-foot "zone of mistletoe" around body.
-- Finding lovely last-minute gifts like toothpaste and athletic socks at the CVS.
-- Dressing our dachshunds in miniature elf costumes.
-- Smiling and nodding at elderly relatives' ramblings about the '40s.
-- Sending Christmas cards to the surviving cast members of Designing Women.
-- Trying to act knowledgeable about Hanukkah.
-- Being visited by three spirits, two of which are vodka.
-- Getting nasty looks from Salvation Army bell ringers.
-- Wearing a variety of sassy hats.
-- Sobbing all the way through the Spongebob Squarepants holiday special.
-- Complaining about things not being in 3D.
-- Immediately breaking or losing parts of our new toys.
-- Dying on the inside.
-- Snickering at the term "stocking stuffer."
-- Being born to die for the sins of humanity.
-- Lurking in bushes, sharpening knife.
-- Creating three-foot "zone of mistletoe" around body.
-- Finding lovely last-minute gifts like toothpaste and athletic socks at the CVS.
-- Dressing our dachshunds in miniature elf costumes.
-- Smiling and nodding at elderly relatives' ramblings about the '40s.
-- Sending Christmas cards to the surviving cast members of Designing Women.
-- Trying to act knowledgeable about Hanukkah.
-- Being visited by three spirits, two of which are vodka.
-- Getting nasty looks from Salvation Army bell ringers.
-- Wearing a variety of sassy hats.
-- Sobbing all the way through the Spongebob Squarepants holiday special.
-- Complaining about things not being in 3D.
-- Immediately breaking or losing parts of our new toys.
-- Dying on the inside.
-- Snickering at the term "stocking stuffer."
-- Being born to die for the sins of humanity.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
'Tis the Season
I'm really sort of down to the wire on Christmas this year, and I don't like it one bit. I've had just a terrible time thinking of gifts for people, which has led me on multiple occasions just to call those people and ask them if they actually want the thing I'm about to buy them. Surprise, in the end, is sort of overrated. In another instance, I bought a gift that I thought might work for two different people on my list, with the intention of giving it to the one if the other didn't work out. Oh, and I've taken to handing the gifts over directly without wrapping paper, although I do generally at least remove the price tag. My gift to my secretary (a check) is looking downright thoughtful by comparison.
Christmas cards are still underway, as well. There's only so many times per day that I can write "best of luck in 2011," I think. I actually start to get hand cramps. And don't even get me started on the paper cut to my tongue.
I will be headed back to my parents' house some time this week, but it's getting harder and harder to predict with my work schedule. I almost ended up with a court date the day before Christmas. And I have a stupid settlement conference not that long after. Do they not know I have a holiday concert for an elderly person to plan? That viola's not going to play itself, damn it.
I'm really sort of down to the wire on Christmas this year, and I don't like it one bit. I've had just a terrible time thinking of gifts for people, which has led me on multiple occasions just to call those people and ask them if they actually want the thing I'm about to buy them. Surprise, in the end, is sort of overrated. In another instance, I bought a gift that I thought might work for two different people on my list, with the intention of giving it to the one if the other didn't work out. Oh, and I've taken to handing the gifts over directly without wrapping paper, although I do generally at least remove the price tag. My gift to my secretary (a check) is looking downright thoughtful by comparison.
Christmas cards are still underway, as well. There's only so many times per day that I can write "best of luck in 2011," I think. I actually start to get hand cramps. And don't even get me started on the paper cut to my tongue.
I will be headed back to my parents' house some time this week, but it's getting harder and harder to predict with my work schedule. I almost ended up with a court date the day before Christmas. And I have a stupid settlement conference not that long after. Do they not know I have a holiday concert for an elderly person to plan? That viola's not going to play itself, damn it.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Quiz Show
So I've taken to doing pub trivia lately. In addition to giving me an excuse to drink on Monday nights again, it also brings back some fantastic and tragic memories for me. You see, when I was in middle school and junior high, I was a quiz bowl star. Boy, oh boy, could I press a buzzer and answer questions about children's literature and simple arithmetic. And I was even better at riding in someone's station wagon to a competition and making obscene noises on their CB radio. And I was probably the best at gorging myself on curly fries and milkshakes at Hardee's afterwards. Let me tell you, West Central Illinois was a paradise in those days. The men were like Gods and the women were like Melrose-Place-era Heather Locklear.
These days it turns out I'm not quite as great. Our record so far is 2 and 2. And one of those wins came on a night when only four teams showed up. Plus, a lot of the questions were about pop culture and television. Does identifying Ross and Rachel even credibly count as a form of knowledge? As my sister put it, it's not just that we're losing, it's that we're losing to people who have requested Justin Bieber songs. It really kind of puts things into perspective.
So I've taken to doing pub trivia lately. In addition to giving me an excuse to drink on Monday nights again, it also brings back some fantastic and tragic memories for me. You see, when I was in middle school and junior high, I was a quiz bowl star. Boy, oh boy, could I press a buzzer and answer questions about children's literature and simple arithmetic. And I was even better at riding in someone's station wagon to a competition and making obscene noises on their CB radio. And I was probably the best at gorging myself on curly fries and milkshakes at Hardee's afterwards. Let me tell you, West Central Illinois was a paradise in those days. The men were like Gods and the women were like Melrose-Place-era Heather Locklear.
These days it turns out I'm not quite as great. Our record so far is 2 and 2. And one of those wins came on a night when only four teams showed up. Plus, a lot of the questions were about pop culture and television. Does identifying Ross and Rachel even credibly count as a form of knowledge? As my sister put it, it's not just that we're losing, it's that we're losing to people who have requested Justin Bieber songs. It really kind of puts things into perspective.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Swan Song
I saw Black Swan last night. I was really looking forward to it because the previews made it look all kinds of crazy, but frankly a lot of it was just Natalie Portman looking frail and scared. I mean, I still enjoyed it, but I was kind of surprised by how irritating I found NP. Pretty much everything that happened in the movie made her furrow her brow and start to tear up. Bitch needs some coping skills, stat.
I was also not prepared for how sort of gory it is. For example, if you are a fan of intact fingernails and toenails, this may not be the movie for you. If you do not enjoy seeing people stab themselves in various ways, maybe sit this one out at the snack bar. Don't get me wrong, it's not exactly Saw 3D, but it ain't The Remains of the Day either.
Winona Ryder is in it for maybe three minutes. Have things really gotten this bad for her? What next, HSN with Mariah Carey?
And of course there was the girl-on-girl action, which has been helpfully highlighted in all of the previews and commercials. I have to say, Mila Kunis really carries herself like a woman who knows her way around a vagina. And again, it was surprisingly graphic. I just kept imagining some poor ridiculous parent thinking they were taking their kids to a ballet movie and then ending up with NP dyking out. Of course, they'd probably walk out long before then, likely around the time of the first toenail fatality.
I saw Black Swan last night. I was really looking forward to it because the previews made it look all kinds of crazy, but frankly a lot of it was just Natalie Portman looking frail and scared. I mean, I still enjoyed it, but I was kind of surprised by how irritating I found NP. Pretty much everything that happened in the movie made her furrow her brow and start to tear up. Bitch needs some coping skills, stat.
I was also not prepared for how sort of gory it is. For example, if you are a fan of intact fingernails and toenails, this may not be the movie for you. If you do not enjoy seeing people stab themselves in various ways, maybe sit this one out at the snack bar. Don't get me wrong, it's not exactly Saw 3D, but it ain't The Remains of the Day either.
Winona Ryder is in it for maybe three minutes. Have things really gotten this bad for her? What next, HSN with Mariah Carey?
And of course there was the girl-on-girl action, which has been helpfully highlighted in all of the previews and commercials. I have to say, Mila Kunis really carries herself like a woman who knows her way around a vagina. And again, it was surprisingly graphic. I just kept imagining some poor ridiculous parent thinking they were taking their kids to a ballet movie and then ending up with NP dyking out. Of course, they'd probably walk out long before then, likely around the time of the first toenail fatality.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
The Cold War
I wonder how many posts I've written through the years expressing dissatisfaction with the nastiness that is the Chicago winter. At least one per year, I would guess. Perhaps there are also posts expressing a resolve to make the best of it or noting surprise that it is not as bad as one thought it would be, but those are probably less frequent. And surely there must be some very dark posts lamenting my continued residence in a city where winter makes up about half of the year. So I won't repeat those now. I will just say that this sucks. It's probably like ten degrees out and I am wearing three layers of clothing indoors. It's been snowing all day and I feared I would become hopelessly marooned on the six block trip back from church this morning. And my feet are freezing.
It is a good day for staying inside and working, I'll give it that. And since I have a big work week ahead, it's not the worst timing possible. Generally I end up stuck in the office when it's in the eighties and sunny. But it would be nice to not have to redouble my investment in sweaters. They're bulky and sometimes they itch. Also, I'm on my second space heater in as many years. I think the poor thing just killed itself rather than deal with another year of my complaining.
I wonder how many posts I've written through the years expressing dissatisfaction with the nastiness that is the Chicago winter. At least one per year, I would guess. Perhaps there are also posts expressing a resolve to make the best of it or noting surprise that it is not as bad as one thought it would be, but those are probably less frequent. And surely there must be some very dark posts lamenting my continued residence in a city where winter makes up about half of the year. So I won't repeat those now. I will just say that this sucks. It's probably like ten degrees out and I am wearing three layers of clothing indoors. It's been snowing all day and I feared I would become hopelessly marooned on the six block trip back from church this morning. And my feet are freezing.
It is a good day for staying inside and working, I'll give it that. And since I have a big work week ahead, it's not the worst timing possible. Generally I end up stuck in the office when it's in the eighties and sunny. But it would be nice to not have to redouble my investment in sweaters. They're bulky and sometimes they itch. Also, I'm on my second space heater in as many years. I think the poor thing just killed itself rather than deal with another year of my complaining.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Indiana
Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade is on right now. It's one of those movies that I find myself watching every time it is on. In fact, when I was a kid, we had taped it off TV on a VHS, and my sister and I would watch it every six months or so. Minus the tank sequence, because my mother forgot to unpause the tape for a while after the commercial break.
I always felt kind of conflicted about Indy's love interest in that one. I mean, on the one hand, she's a Nazi. But on the other hand, at least she's not Kate Capshaw. On the one hand, she slept with Indy's father, too. But on the other hand, she's got a fantastic accent. So it's kind of a wash.
Parts of it actually used to keep me up at night. Well, really just the one part (spoiler alert for 20 years ago!) where the guy ages rapidly and then disintegrates after drinking out of the wrong grail. Now it just looks like really fake CGI. But back then it was maybe the second scariest thing ever, after Young Sherlock Holmes, of course.
What's really scary now? They're threatening to show Indiana Jones & The Temple of Doom. That's two and a half more hours of screaming Asian kid than I think I can stand.
Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade is on right now. It's one of those movies that I find myself watching every time it is on. In fact, when I was a kid, we had taped it off TV on a VHS, and my sister and I would watch it every six months or so. Minus the tank sequence, because my mother forgot to unpause the tape for a while after the commercial break.
I always felt kind of conflicted about Indy's love interest in that one. I mean, on the one hand, she's a Nazi. But on the other hand, at least she's not Kate Capshaw. On the one hand, she slept with Indy's father, too. But on the other hand, she's got a fantastic accent. So it's kind of a wash.
Parts of it actually used to keep me up at night. Well, really just the one part (spoiler alert for 20 years ago!) where the guy ages rapidly and then disintegrates after drinking out of the wrong grail. Now it just looks like really fake CGI. But back then it was maybe the second scariest thing ever, after Young Sherlock Holmes, of course.
What's really scary now? They're threatening to show Indiana Jones & The Temple of Doom. That's two and a half more hours of screaming Asian kid than I think I can stand.
Wednesday, December 08, 2010
A Beginner's Guide to Gym Etiquette
-- Please refrain from chatting on your cell phone while running on a treadmill, participating in a jazzercize class, or swimming laps in the pool.
-- There is no need to tip the woman who works out in a tight t-shirt with no bra.
-- It is considered rude to use the hair dryer on your testicles.
-- Your personal trainer cannot obtain a hooker for you.
-- Towels are for in-gym use only and are not to be utilized as wedding gifts.
-- Limit three persons per exercycle.
-- Make a serious effort to say the word "zumba" without giggling.
-- Pants are not optional.
-- It is not appropriate to ask Alan Alda to serve as your "spotter."
-- Two drink minimum.
-- Politeness dictates that you not ask gym personnel how they feel about their life choices.
-- Do not taunt the water aerobics class.
-- Stop pretending that you are best friends with Jared from the Subway commercials.
-- Please refrain from chatting on your cell phone while running on a treadmill, participating in a jazzercize class, or swimming laps in the pool.
-- There is no need to tip the woman who works out in a tight t-shirt with no bra.
-- It is considered rude to use the hair dryer on your testicles.
-- Your personal trainer cannot obtain a hooker for you.
-- Towels are for in-gym use only and are not to be utilized as wedding gifts.
-- Limit three persons per exercycle.
-- Make a serious effort to say the word "zumba" without giggling.
-- Pants are not optional.
-- It is not appropriate to ask Alan Alda to serve as your "spotter."
-- Two drink minimum.
-- Politeness dictates that you not ask gym personnel how they feel about their life choices.
-- Do not taunt the water aerobics class.
-- Stop pretending that you are best friends with Jared from the Subway commercials.
Sunday, December 05, 2010
Once in a Lifetime
The networks of Lifetime and I are having a fine evening together, let me tell you. First I dipped into A Boyfriend for Christmas, a 2004 feature starring Kelli Williams (I think this may have been the answer to the question "What happened to Kelli Williams after The Practice?") and Patrick Muldoon (who may still be best known from his stint on Days of Our Lives during the phase when they were still burying people alive and getting them possessed by the devil). I can't claim to have followed the plot much, since I only watched about half an hour in the middle, but it involved wearing a lot of roll neck sweaters and velvet sweatsuits and being Chrismassy. As with all movies on Lifetime, it also involved a lot of seemingly unmotivated behavior, such as Kelli Williams verbally assaulting a man she believes to be Santa. I highly recommend it.
I spent even less time watching Holiday Switch, starring Nicole Eggert, who we last saw providing scientific evidence of the existence of ghosts on Lifetime's Celebrity Paranormal Project. Mainly it seemed to involve Nicole Eggert acting crazy for no reason. I came into it when she was trying on lots of different clothes and jewelry and shrieking in joy. Again, that could be a lot of different Lifetime movies, though. I dipped in again later and she was apparently getting divorced, which seemed like a bit of a downer for a holiday special. Next thing we know Rudolph will be getting arrested for vehicular homicide.
On Strike for Christmas is starting right now on LMN. So far, all I can tell you is that Julia Duffy is playing a grandmother, which makes me feel old. I'm guessing it's a hard-hitting look at America's labor unions, though.
The networks of Lifetime and I are having a fine evening together, let me tell you. First I dipped into A Boyfriend for Christmas, a 2004 feature starring Kelli Williams (I think this may have been the answer to the question "What happened to Kelli Williams after The Practice?") and Patrick Muldoon (who may still be best known from his stint on Days of Our Lives during the phase when they were still burying people alive and getting them possessed by the devil). I can't claim to have followed the plot much, since I only watched about half an hour in the middle, but it involved wearing a lot of roll neck sweaters and velvet sweatsuits and being Chrismassy. As with all movies on Lifetime, it also involved a lot of seemingly unmotivated behavior, such as Kelli Williams verbally assaulting a man she believes to be Santa. I highly recommend it.
I spent even less time watching Holiday Switch, starring Nicole Eggert, who we last saw providing scientific evidence of the existence of ghosts on Lifetime's Celebrity Paranormal Project. Mainly it seemed to involve Nicole Eggert acting crazy for no reason. I came into it when she was trying on lots of different clothes and jewelry and shrieking in joy. Again, that could be a lot of different Lifetime movies, though. I dipped in again later and she was apparently getting divorced, which seemed like a bit of a downer for a holiday special. Next thing we know Rudolph will be getting arrested for vehicular homicide.
On Strike for Christmas is starting right now on LMN. So far, all I can tell you is that Julia Duffy is playing a grandmother, which makes me feel old. I'm guessing it's a hard-hitting look at America's labor unions, though.
Friday, December 03, 2010
Really?
Entertainment Weekly has published its Entertainers of the Year issue. I hope that you're sitting down for this. Preferably in a tub with a toaster. Because mistakes were made. Not on the level of allowing Diablo Cody to have a column, perhaps, but mistakes nonetheless.
We'll start from the top: entertainer of the year Taylor Swift. Really? I mean, I know that a black dude was mean to her once and therefore she's everyone's little sister forever, but all of her lyrics are like something a 14-year-old sketched out in pink bubble letters on the back of her geometry notebook. Plus she looks like a damn poodle.
And then we've got Jon Hamm. Really? What is this, two years ago? Did Entertainment Weekly just find AMC on its cable box? Or were they just totally wowed by his portrayal of "FBI Agent #1" in The Town? Okay, he's handsome, we get it.
Kanye? I mean, I'm happy for him and I'mma let him finish, but what did he do this year that he hasn't done every year since he first broke out? Unless they're basing the honor on crazy tweets now.
I have no problem with Christopher Nolan.
The kids of Modern Family? Really? I'm sorry, but the kids of anything do not belong on this list. Unless and until a five-year-old writes the great American novel. Here's what really happened: EW wanted to find a way to shove its tongue further up Modern Family's ass crack, but needed a "fresh" spin. And then someone said, hey, we haven't interviewed the two-year-old yet, right?
Same deal with the cast of The Social Network. They've even recycled the pictures they used for their cover story on the movie a few months back. Apparently, the way to win EW's admiration is to agree to let them talk to you.
I'll admit that Lady Gaga sort of makes sense as a choice since she's been everywhere this year, even though, again, it's not like she was exactly anonymous last year. And then they have to go and stupid it up by dressing Barbies like Lady Gaga. Three full pages.
James Franco irritates the hell out of me, but I'll give them this one.
All of this is starting to make me really tired, but I'll forge on. Katy Perry. Three of their ten supporting points for her selection have to deal with here cleavage. All right, I'm sold.
Stieg Larsson is their number 10. He died in 2004. His books were hits in 2008. They admit all of this. Then they make up some crap about how 2010 "was the year that his books evolved from a publishing phenomenon into a cultural one." Right. Maybe we should include Charles Dickens, too, since this was the year I finally got around to A Tale of Two Cities.
Glee/Ben Affleck/Suzanne Collins. Okay. Yawn.
The Men of The Good Wife. Really? I mean, I don't watch the show, but here I was thinking it was about that sad curly haired lady from ER. Turns out it's all Alan Cumming, all the time. Which is great, because I've always wanted my Tuesday nights to be mildly creepy.
Jaden & Willow Smith round out the list. I sincerely hope that the United Nations is giving serious consideration to war crimes charges.
Entertainment Weekly has published its Entertainers of the Year issue. I hope that you're sitting down for this. Preferably in a tub with a toaster. Because mistakes were made. Not on the level of allowing Diablo Cody to have a column, perhaps, but mistakes nonetheless.
We'll start from the top: entertainer of the year Taylor Swift. Really? I mean, I know that a black dude was mean to her once and therefore she's everyone's little sister forever, but all of her lyrics are like something a 14-year-old sketched out in pink bubble letters on the back of her geometry notebook. Plus she looks like a damn poodle.
And then we've got Jon Hamm. Really? What is this, two years ago? Did Entertainment Weekly just find AMC on its cable box? Or were they just totally wowed by his portrayal of "FBI Agent #1" in The Town? Okay, he's handsome, we get it.
Kanye? I mean, I'm happy for him and I'mma let him finish, but what did he do this year that he hasn't done every year since he first broke out? Unless they're basing the honor on crazy tweets now.
I have no problem with Christopher Nolan.
The kids of Modern Family? Really? I'm sorry, but the kids of anything do not belong on this list. Unless and until a five-year-old writes the great American novel. Here's what really happened: EW wanted to find a way to shove its tongue further up Modern Family's ass crack, but needed a "fresh" spin. And then someone said, hey, we haven't interviewed the two-year-old yet, right?
Same deal with the cast of The Social Network. They've even recycled the pictures they used for their cover story on the movie a few months back. Apparently, the way to win EW's admiration is to agree to let them talk to you.
I'll admit that Lady Gaga sort of makes sense as a choice since she's been everywhere this year, even though, again, it's not like she was exactly anonymous last year. And then they have to go and stupid it up by dressing Barbies like Lady Gaga. Three full pages.
James Franco irritates the hell out of me, but I'll give them this one.
All of this is starting to make me really tired, but I'll forge on. Katy Perry. Three of their ten supporting points for her selection have to deal with here cleavage. All right, I'm sold.
Stieg Larsson is their number 10. He died in 2004. His books were hits in 2008. They admit all of this. Then they make up some crap about how 2010 "was the year that his books evolved from a publishing phenomenon into a cultural one." Right. Maybe we should include Charles Dickens, too, since this was the year I finally got around to A Tale of Two Cities.
Glee/Ben Affleck/Suzanne Collins. Okay. Yawn.
The Men of The Good Wife. Really? I mean, I don't watch the show, but here I was thinking it was about that sad curly haired lady from ER. Turns out it's all Alan Cumming, all the time. Which is great, because I've always wanted my Tuesday nights to be mildly creepy.
Jaden & Willow Smith round out the list. I sincerely hope that the United Nations is giving serious consideration to war crimes charges.
