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Friday, January 29, 2010

Bittersweet Symphony

Did I mention that I went to the symphony last weekend? It was Pierre Boulez conducting one of his own pieces, a Bartok, and a Stravinsky. I have to admit that I am not all that familiar with Boulez, having lost interest about 3/4 of the way through 20th Century Musics in college, but apparently he is very old and very well known in classical music circles, sort of like the Madonna of the fine arts. He was certainly rather adorable with his little wrinkly Frenchness, what with all the bowing and smiling and waving and all. His piece, on the other hand, I was not completely nuts about, as it was one of those serial jobs that sort of sounds like somebody left a bunch of radios on. But the Bartok was rather amazing, as it featured percussion, which I what I told the music director I wanted to play at the meeting in fourth grade where I ended up playing the violin. And I'm always down for some Stravinsky, even when the horn player seems like he just might be dying during the solo that opens the final section. I would have dialed 911, but I had to have my phone turned off for the performance.

I do need to get cultural more often this year. Preferably cultural and drunk. I'm just way more awesome that way.

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

Trials and Tribulations

I don't think I've mentioned that I'm going to trial next week. No, not for my many, many sex crimes, but on behalf of a pro bono client with a civil claim. It's sort of exciting because trials are like unicorns, very rare and beautiful. It's also kind of a pain in my ass, because it involves a ton of work, none of which is billable. I have spent most of the past three weekends on it, along with Martin Luther King day and last night until 10:30. And last night I had a dream about authenticating documents for it. Which was not nearly as exciting as the dream I had Friday where Rihanna worked at my law firm and was not very well liked by the partnership.

Anyway, I've now written jury instructions, which are sort of like the instructions for your DVD player, only more boring. And I've written direct examinations for my witnesses, about which there is absolutely nothing direct. I also wrote some jury selection questions, although those were seriously hampered when I found out we're not technically supposed to ask about Jersey Shore. Who comes up with these rules, anyway?

So yeah, I'm going to Champaign-Urbana on Sunday for this grand affair. Since I went to law school there, I'm thinking of this as sort of a triumphant return. Perhaps I'll go binge eat and have an emotional breakdown in the lobby, just for old time's sake.

Saturday, January 23, 2010

Metamorphoses

It is a well known fact about my mother that after a single glass of white wine she becomes an intoxicated mess, making kissy faces at strangers and tossing off strange remarks about campaign finance reform or Jon Benet Ramsay. Of course, that single glass of white wine only comes about once every two years or so, but man, does it have an impact. If Quincy, Illinois had gossip blogs that covered university professors, they would absolutely be burning up over this one.

I mention all of this not because I think there is a market for a tell-all book about my mother (which would essentially be a single page including the above paragraph and a sentence about that time she ate a grape without paying for it at the supermarket), but because I fear I may be turning into her. For I had perhaps two glasses of red wine last night and found myself delivering ridiculous bon mots about how old people are far too fond of getting naked and why I don't like writing Facebook updates. Also I think my teeth turned purple, I'm not sure.

There was a time -- and it seems like long ago now -- when I could drink six vodka drinks, four beers, and something purple I found at the back of my fridge and still be reasonably put together. I'd just have six glasses of water and a piece of bread before bed and feel fine and dandy in the morning. That time is not now, however. It is, I fear, time for me to begin accepting my limitations.

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Epic Commuting Fail

Today was one of those days that is almost comically disastrous. First I woke up late because I took a sleeping pill in the middle of the night after waking up at 4 AM in a panic attack induced by my pro bono client and the Massachusetts Senate race. Then, while running towards the train along Addison, I somehow hit the last remaining patch of ice in the city of Chicago and sprawled face first onto the ground, only narrowly avoiding a run in with a passing school bus. Then, after getting myself up and making a wry comment to the many helpful observers who came out to note what an idiot I am, I somehow slipped again and nearly slammed my back half as well. I had the duration of the train ride to realize that in the process of falling I had managed to coat my hands, my sleeves, and one of my pant legs with some sort of delightful asphalt residue, so I made a beeline for the bathroom when I got to work and did some lovely sink and paper towel restorations on my appearance. It was nice that a number of partners could come by to check out this process. And as I finished up, I realized that I had forgotten to wear a belt today, meaning that I looked about as close to homeless as one can look without getting thrown out of a major law firm. I would say that I should take a cab tomorrow, except I'd probably manage to get run over by it at least twice on my way to the office.

Sunday, January 17, 2010

Golden

Well, tonight is a huge night in the entertainment world when many of its brightest stars come out to shine. I'm speaking, of course, of the debut of Bring It On 5 tonight on ABC Family. This could be the movie that finally garners Christina Milian the Cable ACE Award attention she so richly deserves. Plus, it may answer so many of the questions that were raised by the first four Bring It On movies, such as 1) Do people really think that Kirsten Dunst is attractive? and 2) Seriously, four Bring It On movies? It is sure to be a big night.

I suppose that the Golden Globes are also on, if you're into that sort of thing. I'm not much for making awards predictions, but I will go out on a limb and suggest that Helen Mirren will be completely wasted. Also, Sharon Stone will be there, for reasons that are far from clear. And the mere mention of Avatar will cause my blood to boil. I've got a lot of suppressed rage.

Thursday, January 14, 2010

Felicitous

I don't know of any way to break this gently so I'm just going to say it: I have recently watched the entire first season of Felicity. And started on the second. I'm not proud of it, but it just sort of happened. Maybe it was the lure of those long curly locks, maybe I had a little crush on Felicity's cool black friend with the weird boobs who you don't understand why she hangs out with any of these people, maybe I just wanted to go back to a simpler time when people actually cared that Felicity lost her V-card to some random art student she barely even knew instead of Ben or Noel or even Javier for God's sake, just some random dude played by Simon Rex. I don't know. But I watched it. And damn it, I'm going to keep right on watching. What do I have to be ashamed of? It's not like I'm recording audio cassettes of me overthinking everything to send to the disembodied voice of Janeane Garofalo or anything.

It is kind of hilarious to be reminded of how people dressed back then, though. It is like the concept of fit had not been invented yet. Mom jeans galore, huge baggy flannel shirts and sweaters, all sorts of shapeless tops -- it looks as though the entire cast was obscuring a pregnancy for the entire run of the series. Then there's Felicity's purse, which is a tiny leather backpack that she actually wears slung over her back. And let's not forget all the fine courdury shirts on display.

If I could, though, I would definitely enroll in the University of New York, though. It's worth it for all the Dean & Deluca alone.

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

Ad Week

I am continually amused and perplexed by the things that Facebook, Gmail and the like believe that I am inclined to buy. I mean, what about my constant rejection of FarmVille and PetVille invitations makes Facebook think an ad for Mafia Wars is well placed? Does my profile just scream "Boat, RV & Outdoor Show" junkie? Why do my emails make the Google corporation think I want an Eco-Friendly Wedding Ring, or for that matter any kind of wedding ring, capital or lower case? And though I am very flattered, I am somewhat unconvinced that Gmail really thinks that I am a "Songwiting Genius." I very rarely break out the six string for my computer, for one thing.

Saturday, January 09, 2010

On the Watch

The Watchmen is on HBO right now and it's really causing me to have some pretty seriously deep thoughts. For instance, why do film adapters feel more pressure to be true to comic books (er, "graphic novels," excuse me) than to the canon of western literature? I mean, it was fine for Demi Moore to add fucking in the grain shed to The Scarlet Letter, but you harm one hair on the Comedian's head and you'll be inundated with tersely worded letters from nerds for the rest of your life. Also, how is it that filmmakers consistently manage to make ultraviolence boring? You'd think watching people get burned alive and electrocuted and cut into pieces would at least be mildly interesting in addition to disgusting, but you'd be wrong. And finally, why is Hollywood trying to make Malin Ackerman happen? It seems like every third overhyped film spectacular you come across she's playing the wacky girlfriend or the moon faced best friend. She's like the Gretchen Mol of the late '00s.

Anyway, we're home tonight because our attempt to go out to the movies was an epic fail. First we left late, then the traffic was horrible, and then the parking garage was full. The weirdest part is that I was secretly rather relieved. It's like two degrees out and I just want to put on my Snuggie and lie back for a little while. Also gorge myself on California Pizza Kitchen. I'm a pretty dynamic guy.

Wednesday, January 06, 2010

Funny Games

Did I mention that I got Mario Kart Wii? I guess I felt that I wasn't enough of a shut-in already and needed another reason to stay home on nights and weekends. You might not think that driving a fake car would be all that entertaining to someone who regularly tries to convince others to drive his real car for him, but it turns out it really is. I think the difference is all the consequence-free sideswiping you can do. Also, unlike a real car, you can drive your Mario Kart through the middle of a mall.

There's a lot of hilarious stuff about Mario Kart, frankly. For one thing, it's ridiculously Japanese, with rainbows and Hello Kittyesque woodland creatures all over the place. For another, it features all sorts of obscure Nintendo characters I've never even heard of, such as Waluigi and Baby Peach. I'm sure they're embossed on someone's backpack somewhere, but I don't see them getting an animated holiday special any time soon. Oh, and look at the dirt I dug up on Birdo (the egg spitting monster from Super Mario 2 who now resides on the MKWii) on Wikipedia:

Ever since the North American release of Super Mario Bros. 2, Birdo's gender has been at issue. The manual asserts that "he" is a crossdressing male who believes he is a girl, and would rather be referred to as "Birdetta." Later versions of Super Mario Bros. 2 make no mention in either the manual or the video game itself.

Who says kids can't learn anything from video games?

Monday, January 04, 2010

New Decade... Same as the Old Decade

In some ways, it doesn't seem like it can possibly have been ten years since Y2K caused all computers worldwide to melt down and delete everyone's bank accounts/fire nuclear missiles at Topeka, Kansas. I mean, I can still remember the crazy millennium party I threw in my parents' basement, where we played board games and drank Boone's Farm Wine Product. I took some solace that if things we're going to shit at midnight, they'd be going to shit halfway around the world first. Who needs Europe, anyway?

But in other ways it seems like it's been much longer than ten years. I mean, for God's sake, I graduated from two different schools and held about six different jobs during that period. When the '00s started I was just a jerk college kid trying to make it through Sir Gawain and the Green Knight without drifting off. Then I was a jerk law student trying to write a paper about horizontal restraints of trade without sawing my arms off in boredom. I was a really lovely person then; I wish you had known me.

As a completely-grown-up 31-year-old, though, I feel pretty far removed from all that. I have a job that isn't working for one of my parent's friends and a life suffocating mortgage. I have traded my '95 Neon with no working radio or air conditioning for a bitchin' Corolla. I have to fix my own sink when I accidentally break the cold water dial off. Or drive myself to the emergency room after getting third degree burns as a result of not doing so, whichever.

I can't wait to read this again in another ten years and laugh at my youthful naivete. Assuming that reading and laughter still exist in another decade, that is. I'm hoping they're going to be replaced with hovercars.

Saturday, January 02, 2010

Avatard

So I finally saw Avatar tonight. At first I swore I wasn't going to see it because the previews looked so ridiculously terrible, what with all the flying lizards and blue jar jar binkses and all. Then when so many people started tweeting and emailing and posting on Facebook about how capital "A" Amazing it was, I had to reconsider that position. And then when it passed the $300 million mark in fifteen days, I felt wholly overwhelmed by peer pressure and had got tickets online. I hesitated again momentarily when I read that 1 in 10 moviegoers has been getting a terrible headache, but I figured if the Top Model marathons haven't left me throbbing, nothing probably will.

So I guess the good news is that I didn't get a headache. The bad news is that I thought it was sort of, well, lame. The introduction moved quickly enough and all, and I enjoyed the part where the hero was almost mauled by various exotic creatures, but I seriously started drifting during the third or fourth segment where he learns about native culture. The effects were good enough and all, but I had a hard time with the fact that the characterizations were on a Son of Flubber level and the dialogue announced the movie's theme about once every fifteen minutes. Also Michelle Rodriguez bugs in pretty much everything. Although managing to make her appear to be a nice person took direction on a really masterful level.

Anyway, I should shut up before my house gets firebombed by the Cameron mafia. But seriously, it was like a Ferngully for the new millennium.

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