Thursday, December 29, 2011
Throwing a Fit
So we got the Wii Fit for Christmas and it apparently hates us. The first thing it did was tell everyone how fat they were. Seriously, I'm 6'1" and it wants me to weigh 165 pounds. I would look like Karen Carpenter. Then it made me do a bunch of balance tests that I didn't understand the instructions for and therefore bombed and then, based on those, told me that my Wii Fit age is 50. Oh, and it made my avatar chunky. It should probably keep in mind that even fat people can throw small machines in the dumpster.
The games are fairly enjoyable, though. There's one where you throw snowballs at all your friends, which is immensely satisfying. I also like the ski jump because it makes me feel intensely athletic for doing almost nothing at all. Oh, and there's a weird Japanese step game where there's an audience of people allegedly watching you and your 20 closest friends step up and down and clap your hands in rhythm. Seriously, the crowd goes wild. I'm just going to assume it's cultural.
I need to get back to the real gym, though, unfortunately. I've missed several days over the past two weeks and two kickboxing classes in a row. If I'm not careful, I'll actually look like my avatar, which in turn sort of looks like the kid from Two and a Half Men. Sad.
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
The Holiday
How can I sum up my holiday in Quincy? I don't think that I really can. Words cannot express, for instance, the joy of running into one's former high school teacher in the home furnishings section of the TJ Maxx. Nor can they fully convey the beauty of an off-key rendition of The Little Drummer Boy performed by a large angry lady who has honest-to-God named her firstborn child Palin. And the Pizza Hut buffet? Clearly indescribable.
I can tell you, however, about the amazing morning I spent with my parents freaking out about my laptop power cord. I casually observed that it didn't appear to be channeling electricity into my laptop, at which point we went into a full-on code red situation that resulted in no less than two trips to Best Buy and the straightfaced suggestion that perhaps I should just buy a new laptop as opposed to a new cord. My parents argued over whether my dad should just have his friend Steve look at my laptop and then segued into an explanation of how they "know someone" at Best Buy so we won't "get taken advantage of." Then, when I eventually just found a sane person at Best Buy who sold me the right power cord, I was cross examined as to whether this really provided a sound solution to the problem. Not to spoil the ending for you, but I'm typing on the laptop right now.
Also, we saw the new Sherlock Holmes movie. It was all right. I'm still not quite sure why Noomi Rapace was there, but that's probably going to be true of a lot of things. Also it was about two and a half hours. I'll say it right now: nothing should ever be two and a half hours. Except for Titanic 3D, of course. It can be two and a half days as far as I'm concerned; my heart will go on.
Sunday, December 25, 2011
Merry Christmas to All...
If you had asked me twenty years ago what the holiday season in 2011 would look like, I would have gotten it very wrong. I probably would have told you that we’d all be throwing on our Hammer pants and Simpsons t-shirts to ride our rocket bikes down to the laser tag arena for some computer-generated eggnog and virtual reality fruitcake. I never would have predicted that I’d be practicing law in Chicago (I believe my chosen career at that point was still President of Awesome), that my sister would be an educational researcher (most of her research then had to do with Days of Our Lives), or that many of my friends would have started families of their own by now (starting a new level of Tetris was about the most we could handle). I certainly couldn’t have guessed that the holidays would involve TSA gropedowns or a new spin on the Immaculate Conception from Justin Bieber. Or Pajama Jeans. If I had seen those coming, I might have just stopped the passage of time in protest, like Zack Morris or that spunky little alien girl who had so many comic ladder mishaps on Out of this World.
To my credit, however, I bet I would have predicted a few things correctly. The styles for holiday sweaters haven’t changed much -- elves that look like Rhea Perlman and puffy paint are still right on trend -- and I’m pretty sure the exact same fruitcake has been going back and forth between my parents and their neighbors who decided to "build their own ski jump" for the past three decades. Oddly enough, Mariah Carey is still around and still wearing that fur-fringed holiday tube top that gives teenaged boys weird warm feelings about the birth of their lord and savior, and my grandmother is still misremembering holidays from forty years ago, to the point that she now believes she spent her Kwanzaas during Watergate doing the Lindy Hop with Scott Baio at the International House of Pancakes. And somehow I believe that, even twenty years ago, I could easily have predicted the quick and colorful demise of Kim Kardashian’s sham marriage. As a general rule of thumb, the length of any given marriage is inversely proportional to the number of NASCAR-style endorsement deals involved. That’s just science, like gravity or Haylie Duff’s experiences on Celebrity Ghost Stories.
So the 1991 version of me would not, I guess, have been wrong about everything, no matter what my awkward side part and devotion to math team might have led you to believe. And in 2011 I found that, for all my access to high quality skin care products and entertainment options that do not involve pacing back and forth outside of the Spencer’s, the current version of me still has a lot left to learn. I went to Switzerland for work in March, which taught me a great deal about what not to dip in fondue and why simply watching Schindler’s List repeatedly was not an effective method of high school German instruction. This summer I attempted some basic home repairs, thereby learning that I should never attempt even the most basic of home repairs as well as the importance of maintaining a complete first aid kit in one’s home. (It turns out that paper towels are not a great substitute for bandages and bug spray is no substitute at all for antibacterial cream.) And this fall I helped coach a moot court team at Northwestern, which led me to understand that contemporary law students are more interested in learning about international comity than enjoying your hilarious Ruth Bader Ginsburg impression and may not ever have even heard of Matlock. I like to think that we learned from each other, although somehow I doubt that’s what the evaluations will say.
Regardless, here’s to so many great years of holiday seasons past and to the many great years that I know are still yet to come. May your 2012s be happy, healthy, and wholly unlike the John Cusack feature of the same name!
If you had asked me twenty years ago what the holiday season in 2011 would look like, I would have gotten it very wrong. I probably would have told you that we’d all be throwing on our Hammer pants and Simpsons t-shirts to ride our rocket bikes down to the laser tag arena for some computer-generated eggnog and virtual reality fruitcake. I never would have predicted that I’d be practicing law in Chicago (I believe my chosen career at that point was still President of Awesome), that my sister would be an educational researcher (most of her research then had to do with Days of Our Lives), or that many of my friends would have started families of their own by now (starting a new level of Tetris was about the most we could handle). I certainly couldn’t have guessed that the holidays would involve TSA gropedowns or a new spin on the Immaculate Conception from Justin Bieber. Or Pajama Jeans. If I had seen those coming, I might have just stopped the passage of time in protest, like Zack Morris or that spunky little alien girl who had so many comic ladder mishaps on Out of this World.
To my credit, however, I bet I would have predicted a few things correctly. The styles for holiday sweaters haven’t changed much -- elves that look like Rhea Perlman and puffy paint are still right on trend -- and I’m pretty sure the exact same fruitcake has been going back and forth between my parents and their neighbors who decided to "build their own ski jump" for the past three decades. Oddly enough, Mariah Carey is still around and still wearing that fur-fringed holiday tube top that gives teenaged boys weird warm feelings about the birth of their lord and savior, and my grandmother is still misremembering holidays from forty years ago, to the point that she now believes she spent her Kwanzaas during Watergate doing the Lindy Hop with Scott Baio at the International House of Pancakes. And somehow I believe that, even twenty years ago, I could easily have predicted the quick and colorful demise of Kim Kardashian’s sham marriage. As a general rule of thumb, the length of any given marriage is inversely proportional to the number of NASCAR-style endorsement deals involved. That’s just science, like gravity or Haylie Duff’s experiences on Celebrity Ghost Stories.
So the 1991 version of me would not, I guess, have been wrong about everything, no matter what my awkward side part and devotion to math team might have led you to believe. And in 2011 I found that, for all my access to high quality skin care products and entertainment options that do not involve pacing back and forth outside of the Spencer’s, the current version of me still has a lot left to learn. I went to Switzerland for work in March, which taught me a great deal about what not to dip in fondue and why simply watching Schindler’s List repeatedly was not an effective method of high school German instruction. This summer I attempted some basic home repairs, thereby learning that I should never attempt even the most basic of home repairs as well as the importance of maintaining a complete first aid kit in one’s home. (It turns out that paper towels are not a great substitute for bandages and bug spray is no substitute at all for antibacterial cream.) And this fall I helped coach a moot court team at Northwestern, which led me to understand that contemporary law students are more interested in learning about international comity than enjoying your hilarious Ruth Bader Ginsburg impression and may not ever have even heard of Matlock. I like to think that we learned from each other, although somehow I doubt that’s what the evaluations will say.
Regardless, here’s to so many great years of holiday seasons past and to the many great years that I know are still yet to come. May your 2012s be happy, healthy, and wholly unlike the John Cusack feature of the same name!
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Hitting the Wal
I'm back at my parents' house for the holiday. They never have any of the food that I eat on hand, so I had to run out to Wal-Mart so I don't starve. Now I'm thinking that maybe I should have just starved. For some reason, it turns out that 9 PM on a Thursday night is the peak time for food buying in Quincy and also the low tide for checkouts being open at Wal-Mart. I was in a line five people deep trying to buy my mini cereal boxes and Bottlecaps candies (okay, that was an impulse buy), and that was the short line. And let me tell you, people buy in bulk here. All the carts in front of me looked like they might collapse under the weight of their purchases. I have never seen toilet paper packages so large.
Anyway, I tried to play on my phone while I was waiting, but the wireless network at Wal-Mart required that I digitally agree to about three-pages of tiny all caps sentences, and I was afraid I might end up as a towel boy at the Walton Manor, so I had to give up. After about fifteen minutes I got up to second in line, which was when the real tragedy struck. The woman in front of me had two separate orders and paid for both by personal check. Very slowly written personal check. And the last item in her second order was fifteen Wal-Mart gift cards, each of which had to be scanned and activated separately. Which easily took ten minutes. She kept trying to make awkward jokes to me about it while it was happening but I just pretended I had Aspergers. Actually, by that point, I may not have been pretending.
I guess the good news is that the holidays have nowhere to go but up.
I'm back at my parents' house for the holiday. They never have any of the food that I eat on hand, so I had to run out to Wal-Mart so I don't starve. Now I'm thinking that maybe I should have just starved. For some reason, it turns out that 9 PM on a Thursday night is the peak time for food buying in Quincy and also the low tide for checkouts being open at Wal-Mart. I was in a line five people deep trying to buy my mini cereal boxes and Bottlecaps candies (okay, that was an impulse buy), and that was the short line. And let me tell you, people buy in bulk here. All the carts in front of me looked like they might collapse under the weight of their purchases. I have never seen toilet paper packages so large.
Anyway, I tried to play on my phone while I was waiting, but the wireless network at Wal-Mart required that I digitally agree to about three-pages of tiny all caps sentences, and I was afraid I might end up as a towel boy at the Walton Manor, so I had to give up. After about fifteen minutes I got up to second in line, which was when the real tragedy struck. The woman in front of me had two separate orders and paid for both by personal check. Very slowly written personal check. And the last item in her second order was fifteen Wal-Mart gift cards, each of which had to be scanned and activated separately. Which easily took ten minutes. She kept trying to make awkward jokes to me about it while it was happening but I just pretended I had Aspergers. Actually, by that point, I may not have been pretending.
I guess the good news is that the holidays have nowhere to go but up.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Friends with Benefits
Today at work we had a meeting about our benefits. I love these meetings because they invariably turn into therapy sessions where everyone pours out all of their convoluted personal issues. Also because sometimes there are snacks. But mainly for the unfocused rants. We were barely into the medical insurance options when the fun began.
"So I get it that on the high deductible plan, I can't get an FSA. But can my wife still get an FSA? She really wants to get an FSA."
"Well, that would really depend on your wife's insurance."
"Okay, well, if she gets an FSA, what kind of things can she spend that on?"
A twenty minute digression followed. Then came an unforeseen opinion segment of the program.
"I mean, I guess what I don't understand is why anyone would get that other insurance? Doesn't it seem like this insurance is just much better? I mean, who wants that other plan?"
Then came the disability portion, which seemed to strike a chord with many of my coworkers, who apparently have semi-definite plans to become disabled.
"Now, does it count as a disability if I'm injured and I can still work, but I can't do the same kind of work I do now? Like, what if I have a stroke or something and I can't go to court any more or something like that?"
And "If I get disability benefits, are they subject to tax? Would there be withholding?"
I'm sorry, but if I end up in a wheelchair passing my days watching old episodes of Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman, the last thing I'm going to be worrying about is withholding.
Then there was life insurance.
"What if I want to have three different beneficiaries, but I really want them just to work it out among themselves who gets how much of it or something like that? How do I do that?"
Dude, you're going to be dead. Let them just fight over it with pointed sticks.
Today at work we had a meeting about our benefits. I love these meetings because they invariably turn into therapy sessions where everyone pours out all of their convoluted personal issues. Also because sometimes there are snacks. But mainly for the unfocused rants. We were barely into the medical insurance options when the fun began.
"So I get it that on the high deductible plan, I can't get an FSA. But can my wife still get an FSA? She really wants to get an FSA."
"Well, that would really depend on your wife's insurance."
"Okay, well, if she gets an FSA, what kind of things can she spend that on?"
A twenty minute digression followed. Then came an unforeseen opinion segment of the program.
"I mean, I guess what I don't understand is why anyone would get that other insurance? Doesn't it seem like this insurance is just much better? I mean, who wants that other plan?"
Then came the disability portion, which seemed to strike a chord with many of my coworkers, who apparently have semi-definite plans to become disabled.
"Now, does it count as a disability if I'm injured and I can still work, but I can't do the same kind of work I do now? Like, what if I have a stroke or something and I can't go to court any more or something like that?"
And "If I get disability benefits, are they subject to tax? Would there be withholding?"
I'm sorry, but if I end up in a wheelchair passing my days watching old episodes of Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman, the last thing I'm going to be worrying about is withholding.
Then there was life insurance.
"What if I want to have three different beneficiaries, but I really want them just to work it out among themselves who gets how much of it or something like that? How do I do that?"
Dude, you're going to be dead. Let them just fight over it with pointed sticks.
Sunday, December 18, 2011
'Tis the Season
We had our firm holiday breakfast last week. It was close on the heels of our building holiday breakfast, but they are not the same thing. The firm breakfast featured waffles, turkey bacon, and an employee gift that provided a full week of elevator small talk. The building breakfast featured student string players, yogurt parfaits that one feared had not been adequately refrigerated, and uncomfortable drafts. Both, of course, were an utter joy. I'm a sucker for trans fats and secretaries in reindeer sweaters, what can I tell you?
I also had the Shakespeare Theatre this week, which I ended up enjoying not so much for the first time ever. It was a non-Shakespeare play by a contemporary writer whose name I have forgotten. The acting was good, but suffice it to say that two hours is more than I want to spend hearing people talk about gender roles. Now if it were cinnamon rolls, it would be a different story.
I'm hoping to head down to see my folks for the holiday sometime this week. Departure date remains very much up in the air, however. Why can't I just have a month's vacation for Christmas like when I was in college and law school? I won't blow it drinking boxed wine and reading young adult fiction this time, I swear.
We had our firm holiday breakfast last week. It was close on the heels of our building holiday breakfast, but they are not the same thing. The firm breakfast featured waffles, turkey bacon, and an employee gift that provided a full week of elevator small talk. The building breakfast featured student string players, yogurt parfaits that one feared had not been adequately refrigerated, and uncomfortable drafts. Both, of course, were an utter joy. I'm a sucker for trans fats and secretaries in reindeer sweaters, what can I tell you?
I also had the Shakespeare Theatre this week, which I ended up enjoying not so much for the first time ever. It was a non-Shakespeare play by a contemporary writer whose name I have forgotten. The acting was good, but suffice it to say that two hours is more than I want to spend hearing people talk about gender roles. Now if it were cinnamon rolls, it would be a different story.
I'm hoping to head down to see my folks for the holiday sometime this week. Departure date remains very much up in the air, however. Why can't I just have a month's vacation for Christmas like when I was in college and law school? I won't blow it drinking boxed wine and reading young adult fiction this time, I swear.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Strong
On Wednesday I was forced to admit that I was exhausted and struggling at work all day because I had stayed up late the night before watching Country Strong with Gwyneth Paltrow.
I probably should not say more than that, because it will clearly incriminate me, but I think this confession is good for my soul.
It was supposed to be an ironic thing. And it was going to be in two parts. But then somehow everyone wanted to finish it. Maybe just to get it over with. But it was two hours long. And so full of Leighton Meester, doing her best Streetcar Named Desire accent. And Gwyneth acting all messed up and angry. It was quite the spectacle. There was yelling, crying, stumbling -- and that was just in my living room.
The most remarkable thing about the movie is that there is not really a single likable character in it. Unless you count the conversion van the band rides around in. I've got nothing against conversion vans.
And yet, when the movie was over, I found myself in a room full of people saying it was really not that bad. I fear Gwyneth Paltrow Stockholm Syndrome is spreading. Suddenly I have the urge to start a macrobiotic diet and watch A View From the Top.
On Wednesday I was forced to admit that I was exhausted and struggling at work all day because I had stayed up late the night before watching Country Strong with Gwyneth Paltrow.
I probably should not say more than that, because it will clearly incriminate me, but I think this confession is good for my soul.
It was supposed to be an ironic thing. And it was going to be in two parts. But then somehow everyone wanted to finish it. Maybe just to get it over with. But it was two hours long. And so full of Leighton Meester, doing her best Streetcar Named Desire accent. And Gwyneth acting all messed up and angry. It was quite the spectacle. There was yelling, crying, stumbling -- and that was just in my living room.
The most remarkable thing about the movie is that there is not really a single likable character in it. Unless you count the conversion van the band rides around in. I've got nothing against conversion vans.
And yet, when the movie was over, I found myself in a room full of people saying it was really not that bad. I fear Gwyneth Paltrow Stockholm Syndrome is spreading. Suddenly I have the urge to start a macrobiotic diet and watch A View From the Top.
Monday, December 12, 2011
Tribute
Just when I said I was lacking in inspiration, here comes Entertainment Weekly's Entertainers of the Year issue, like a gift from sarcasm heaven. Not only did they name a child star with a barely-tamed unibrow their entertainer of the year, they also gave us the gift of having random celebrities write all of the tributes. So Julia Roberts tells us why Adele is so great. Because, yeah, Julia Roberts is a musical Svengali on the level of a Phil Spector, but without the awkward criminal overtones. Sandra Bullock explains the awesomeness of Trey Parker and Matt Stone, but never manages to drop that "aw, shucks, I'm so sincere and lovable" schtick that won her Meryl Streep's Oscar. And David Fincher sings the praises of Brad Pitt, presumably because Scorcese was not available. I really look forward to next year's edition, when Alice Walker pays tribute to Anna Faris and the ghost of Katherine Hepburn toasts Nicki Minaj.
Just when I said I was lacking in inspiration, here comes Entertainment Weekly's Entertainers of the Year issue, like a gift from sarcasm heaven. Not only did they name a child star with a barely-tamed unibrow their entertainer of the year, they also gave us the gift of having random celebrities write all of the tributes. So Julia Roberts tells us why Adele is so great. Because, yeah, Julia Roberts is a musical Svengali on the level of a Phil Spector, but without the awkward criminal overtones. Sandra Bullock explains the awesomeness of Trey Parker and Matt Stone, but never manages to drop that "aw, shucks, I'm so sincere and lovable" schtick that won her Meryl Streep's Oscar. And David Fincher sings the praises of Brad Pitt, presumably because Scorcese was not available. I really look forward to next year's edition, when Alice Walker pays tribute to Anna Faris and the ghost of Katherine Hepburn toasts Nicki Minaj.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Hot & Cold
For some reason it is freezing in my house today. I guess the fact that it is also freezing outside probably has something to do with it, but still, craking up the thermostat has to be good for something. To be fair, it is really only my feet that are freezing, despite the fact that I am wearing two pairs of socks and my shoes. My grandmother has always said that means I have poor circulation, but I like to think it means I'm amazing. Regardless, after this I think I am going to go build (read: push the button that turns on) a fire.
I have been remiss this week in not mentioning the Shocking Top Model First that occurred on Wednesday. Perhaps I was just too emotionally damaged to talk about it. Or perhaps I just felt like eating my weight in lasagna at Leona's and watching movies instead. But regardless, Queen Angelea is dead, long live Queen Angelea. I especially enjoyed the fact that Lisa had gotten a nose job between the first and second times that they filmed the finale. She must have gone to Ashlee Simpson's doctor because it looks pretty good.
I have also been remiss in pretty much not posting at all lately. I'm just sort of lacking in inspiration. I'd rather not post at all than post something lame and boring. Present post excluded, of course.
For some reason it is freezing in my house today. I guess the fact that it is also freezing outside probably has something to do with it, but still, craking up the thermostat has to be good for something. To be fair, it is really only my feet that are freezing, despite the fact that I am wearing two pairs of socks and my shoes. My grandmother has always said that means I have poor circulation, but I like to think it means I'm amazing. Regardless, after this I think I am going to go build (read: push the button that turns on) a fire.
I have been remiss this week in not mentioning the Shocking Top Model First that occurred on Wednesday. Perhaps I was just too emotionally damaged to talk about it. Or perhaps I just felt like eating my weight in lasagna at Leona's and watching movies instead. But regardless, Queen Angelea is dead, long live Queen Angelea. I especially enjoyed the fact that Lisa had gotten a nose job between the first and second times that they filmed the finale. She must have gone to Ashlee Simpson's doctor because it looks pretty good.
I have also been remiss in pretty much not posting at all lately. I'm just sort of lacking in inspiration. I'd rather not post at all than post something lame and boring. Present post excluded, of course.
Tuesday, December 06, 2011
Bank Failure
So this morning I managed to wipe out spectacularly on the way back to my office from the bank. I really have no idea how this one happened. I was coming down a short flight of stairs right off of Clark street and I suddenly found my face headed towards the ground at an alarming rate. I grabbed the handrail and tried to steady myself, but that really only resulted in an odd twisting motion that left me crumpled up in a semi-fetal position against the curb. Of course, strangers ran over to help me, which only made me feel more like a 85-year-old invalid. It's so helpful when people point out to you that you've had a bad fall, because otherwise you might not even notice.
I do sort of wish I'd been able to see myself do it, though. It had to have been pretty spectacular. My only real regret is that I wasn't carrying a sheaf of papers or something, so that it could be scattered willy nilly in the wind. Oh, and that it happened to me and not some wealthy dowager. Those crusty old gals really have it coming.
So this morning I managed to wipe out spectacularly on the way back to my office from the bank. I really have no idea how this one happened. I was coming down a short flight of stairs right off of Clark street and I suddenly found my face headed towards the ground at an alarming rate. I grabbed the handrail and tried to steady myself, but that really only resulted in an odd twisting motion that left me crumpled up in a semi-fetal position against the curb. Of course, strangers ran over to help me, which only made me feel more like a 85-year-old invalid. It's so helpful when people point out to you that you've had a bad fall, because otherwise you might not even notice.
I do sort of wish I'd been able to see myself do it, though. It had to have been pretty spectacular. My only real regret is that I wasn't carrying a sheaf of papers or something, so that it could be scattered willy nilly in the wind. Oh, and that it happened to me and not some wealthy dowager. Those crusty old gals really have it coming.
Sunday, December 04, 2011
Big Night
Last night was a big night. Dinner at Chili's followed by the Muppets and bed by 11:30. Chili's was fantastic as usual; we got a prime seat next to the window overlooking the circle drive of the hotel next door, and both the chips and the Diet Cokes were bottomless. And all the festivities were sponsored by a gift card, so the Southwestern Egg Rolls were truly guilt free, aside from the unavoidable knowledge that,with the passage of time, they will surely kill you.
The Muppets was pretty good as well. I of course was a huge fan of the Muppets back in the day and have modeled many of my modern day personality traits on Sam the American Eagle. The Great Muppet Caper introduced my long-term career ambition to be a jewel thief, and I still bear the scars of Kermit's inappropriate flirtation with that harlot Jenny in The Muppets Take Manhattan. Also I have a vague and fortunately latent desire to play the banjo. But anyway, I was skeptical about the new take, fearing some sort of postmoderny take on Muppetism, but it's pretty straightforward. Chris Cooper raps, which never should have been allowed to happen, but there are plenty of other good gags and the characters seem more or less in tact. I will definitely be pushing Selena Gomez for an Academy Award for Best Three Line Cameo this year.
Last night was a big night. Dinner at Chili's followed by the Muppets and bed by 11:30. Chili's was fantastic as usual; we got a prime seat next to the window overlooking the circle drive of the hotel next door, and both the chips and the Diet Cokes were bottomless. And all the festivities were sponsored by a gift card, so the Southwestern Egg Rolls were truly guilt free, aside from the unavoidable knowledge that,with the passage of time, they will surely kill you.
The Muppets was pretty good as well. I of course was a huge fan of the Muppets back in the day and have modeled many of my modern day personality traits on Sam the American Eagle. The Great Muppet Caper introduced my long-term career ambition to be a jewel thief, and I still bear the scars of Kermit's inappropriate flirtation with that harlot Jenny in The Muppets Take Manhattan. Also I have a vague and fortunately latent desire to play the banjo. But anyway, I was skeptical about the new take, fearing some sort of postmoderny take on Muppetism, but it's pretty straightforward. Chris Cooper raps, which never should have been allowed to happen, but there are plenty of other good gags and the characters seem more or less in tact. I will definitely be pushing Selena Gomez for an Academy Award for Best Three Line Cameo this year.
Thursday, December 01, 2011
Possibly The Greatest Thing I Have Ever Said
My Sister: I didn't carry my iPad with me today. We've had a lot of mugging on campus lately.
Jay: A lot of mugging? What, does Raven go there now?
And a grateful nation gives its thanks.
My Sister: I didn't carry my iPad with me today. We've had a lot of mugging on campus lately.
Jay: A lot of mugging? What, does Raven go there now?
And a grateful nation gives its thanks.
