Monday, May 30, 2011
Bugged
So apparently the locusts (or "cicadas," as I believe their PR people would have them known) have returned to Quincy. I know this because I walked into the house this morning and looked down to see a pair of red beady eyes staring up at me, and I'm not talking about Elizabeth Hasselbeck on The View. I calmly returned this creature to the wild, but I'm stepping on the next four or five I see. Why are my vacations continually doomed to involve vermin of some sort?
I also got the news today that I may be flying to Indianapolis for work early tomorrow morning. As in a 7:45 AM departure. Nothing like watching the sunrise at O'Hare. Perhaps I'll get a Cinnabon following my TSA gropedown.
At least the weather is suddenly nice. I went for a run this morning and probably sweated out about ten pounds of liquid. There's some nice picturesque speech for you. Enjoy your lunches, everyone!
So apparently the locusts (or "cicadas," as I believe their PR people would have them known) have returned to Quincy. I know this because I walked into the house this morning and looked down to see a pair of red beady eyes staring up at me, and I'm not talking about Elizabeth Hasselbeck on The View. I calmly returned this creature to the wild, but I'm stepping on the next four or five I see. Why are my vacations continually doomed to involve vermin of some sort?
I also got the news today that I may be flying to Indianapolis for work early tomorrow morning. As in a 7:45 AM departure. Nothing like watching the sunrise at O'Hare. Perhaps I'll get a Cinnabon following my TSA gropedown.
At least the weather is suddenly nice. I went for a run this morning and probably sweated out about ten pounds of liquid. There's some nice picturesque speech for you. Enjoy your lunches, everyone!
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Mouse Hunt
So during lunch with my grandmother yesterday, my sister suddenly let forth a little shriek, and not because she was fed up with discussing the plotlines on The Young & the Restless and the various personal deficiencies of home health care workers. It was because she saw a mouse running across the kitchen floor. Initially she described the mouse as "really big," but ultimately it turned out to be about an inch in length. It was rather fearless, however, as it kept not only racing across the kitchen floor, but making trips from behind the refrigerator to directly behind my grandmother's chair. And then of course it took up residence directly beneath my grandmother's chair.
I have to say I'm not proud of the way we reacted. After chastising my sister for alarming my grandmother with her reaction, I myself let out a bloodcurdling scream. Then we both jumped up from our seats and grabbed weapons -- a broom in my sister's case, and my grandmother's cane in mine, although I have no idea what I would do to a mouse with a cane, besides terrifying it with a reprise of the QHS show choir in 1995. We both took positions across the room staring at the offending mouse, along with my grandmother, of course, who had remained completely calm throughout the incident. In fact, she tried to get up so she could go after the mouse herself.
Anyway, my father set up a series of traps for the tiny mouse, and it has since been appropriately dealt with. But let us not forget on this Memorial Day to honor those who served in the terrifying Mouse Wars of 2011.
So during lunch with my grandmother yesterday, my sister suddenly let forth a little shriek, and not because she was fed up with discussing the plotlines on The Young & the Restless and the various personal deficiencies of home health care workers. It was because she saw a mouse running across the kitchen floor. Initially she described the mouse as "really big," but ultimately it turned out to be about an inch in length. It was rather fearless, however, as it kept not only racing across the kitchen floor, but making trips from behind the refrigerator to directly behind my grandmother's chair. And then of course it took up residence directly beneath my grandmother's chair.
I have to say I'm not proud of the way we reacted. After chastising my sister for alarming my grandmother with her reaction, I myself let out a bloodcurdling scream. Then we both jumped up from our seats and grabbed weapons -- a broom in my sister's case, and my grandmother's cane in mine, although I have no idea what I would do to a mouse with a cane, besides terrifying it with a reprise of the QHS show choir in 1995. We both took positions across the room staring at the offending mouse, along with my grandmother, of course, who had remained completely calm throughout the incident. In fact, she tried to get up so she could go after the mouse herself.
Anyway, my father set up a series of traps for the tiny mouse, and it has since been appropriately dealt with. But let us not forget on this Memorial Day to honor those who served in the terrifying Mouse Wars of 2011.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
World Traveller
Back in Quincy for the holiday weekend. The trip last night took seven hours, partly due to the traffic and partly due to our stop at the Bollingbrook Cheddars. There was queso dip involved, though, so there are no regrets.
Topics covered on the drive included: 1) what to have for dinner (approximately one hour); 2) the variations in quality in the High School Musical series (forty-five minutes); 3) ways in which the creators of Lost dropped the ball (half an hour); 4) how you have to at least give Avril Lavigne credit for not totally skanking out like every other teen pop star (five minutes); 5) whether Avril Lavigne in fact wrote a song for racially-ambiguous superstar Miranda Cosgrove (five minutes); 6) ways in which Bridesmaids was amazing (half an hour); 7) various crazy educational professionals we encountered in Quincy (an hour); 8) whether to stop to pee and get Diet Mountain Dews (fifteen minutes); 9) potential conflict resolution mechanisms for the upcoming parental visit (half an hour); and 10) miscellaneous.
This morning I got up and did some ab exercises, which were a poor substitute for my beloved Fit Core class. Then I got the oil changed and felt self conscious while sitting in the tiny waiting room and pretending to read a three-month-old copy of Motor Trend. Lunch with grandmother is upcoming. I am very glamorous.
Back in Quincy for the holiday weekend. The trip last night took seven hours, partly due to the traffic and partly due to our stop at the Bollingbrook Cheddars. There was queso dip involved, though, so there are no regrets.
Topics covered on the drive included: 1) what to have for dinner (approximately one hour); 2) the variations in quality in the High School Musical series (forty-five minutes); 3) ways in which the creators of Lost dropped the ball (half an hour); 4) how you have to at least give Avril Lavigne credit for not totally skanking out like every other teen pop star (five minutes); 5) whether Avril Lavigne in fact wrote a song for racially-ambiguous superstar Miranda Cosgrove (five minutes); 6) ways in which Bridesmaids was amazing (half an hour); 7) various crazy educational professionals we encountered in Quincy (an hour); 8) whether to stop to pee and get Diet Mountain Dews (fifteen minutes); 9) potential conflict resolution mechanisms for the upcoming parental visit (half an hour); and 10) miscellaneous.
This morning I got up and did some ab exercises, which were a poor substitute for my beloved Fit Core class. Then I got the oil changed and felt self conscious while sitting in the tiny waiting room and pretending to read a three-month-old copy of Motor Trend. Lunch with grandmother is upcoming. I am very glamorous.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Summer Redux
It turns out I actually managed to get a little bit sunburned in the hour or so that I was outside this Sunday. It's sort of like this every summer -- the first time I'm out I pinken like Justin Bieber pretending to be sexually interested in Selena Gomez, but after that I settle into a sort of ecru color that never really changes no matter what I do. (Actually, I'm sure that ecru is the wrong word, but I can't really figure out how to describe it. It's a little bit like the skin tone crayon used to be in the Crayola box before they realized that was more than a little bit racist.) But anyway, it's not really painful so much as minorly annoying. It only hurts when I try to dry my back after showering, as I am wont to do. Oh well, I'll be back to normal in two days, tops.
I am definitely hoping to spend more time outside this summer, though. Last year ended up being a major bust, between trying a case in late June, having jury duty and an IRS audit in July, and going to four different weddings over the course of the summer. I only got to luxuriate at my sister's pool on about three occasions, and even then some stupid girls were screaming weird things from a window somewhere up in the building and I got all distracted and self conscious. This year there shall be far more luxuriating. This will be the summer I finally give myself serious skin damage, mark my words.
It turns out I actually managed to get a little bit sunburned in the hour or so that I was outside this Sunday. It's sort of like this every summer -- the first time I'm out I pinken like Justin Bieber pretending to be sexually interested in Selena Gomez, but after that I settle into a sort of ecru color that never really changes no matter what I do. (Actually, I'm sure that ecru is the wrong word, but I can't really figure out how to describe it. It's a little bit like the skin tone crayon used to be in the Crayola box before they realized that was more than a little bit racist.) But anyway, it's not really painful so much as minorly annoying. It only hurts when I try to dry my back after showering, as I am wont to do. Oh well, I'll be back to normal in two days, tops.
I am definitely hoping to spend more time outside this summer, though. Last year ended up being a major bust, between trying a case in late June, having jury duty and an IRS audit in July, and going to four different weddings over the course of the summer. I only got to luxuriate at my sister's pool on about three occasions, and even then some stupid girls were screaming weird things from a window somewhere up in the building and I got all distracted and self conscious. This year there shall be far more luxuriating. This will be the summer I finally give myself serious skin damage, mark my words.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Happenings
I saw Bridesmaids on Friday. I thought it was pretty good. I don't really watch Saturday Night Live any more, so I don't have much idea of what Kristen Wiig does there, but I have enjoyed her a lot in movies that I otherwise didn't think were too terribly much worth watching. (I'm looking at you, Whip It, although I do have you to thank for my heroic ability to tolerate roller derby.) This was a good part for her. Maya Rudolph was fine, too, although from some angles I find her to be truly ungainly. The movie also featured Erin from The Office, that blond woman I can't really place, and the fat lady from that CBS sitcom I don't watch (which doesn't really narrow it down much), all of whom were entertaining. Oh, and John Hamm. I generally have some degree of goodwill for John Hamm.
Yesterday I had my fitness classes, followed by work and some dinner guests. Of course I did none of the work for preparing for the dinner guests, which is frankly how I prefer it. I did a lot of the work of eating dinner, though, which should not be overlooked. I am the hardest working man in the dining business.
Today, then, was my annual yard work day. As always, it began with a trip to Home Depot, where I had to precariously guide a pallet loaded with fifteen bags of wood chips through a garden center packed from wall to wall with cranky middle class white people. Then there was the ceremonial removal of last year's dead shrubs, with the attendant guilt and dumpster tossing. Then I spread the wood chips around my tiny front yard using only my foot as a tool and hoping not to encounter any worms. The one difference this year was that I have given up on shrubs entirely. I've just been hurt too many times.
I saw Bridesmaids on Friday. I thought it was pretty good. I don't really watch Saturday Night Live any more, so I don't have much idea of what Kristen Wiig does there, but I have enjoyed her a lot in movies that I otherwise didn't think were too terribly much worth watching. (I'm looking at you, Whip It, although I do have you to thank for my heroic ability to tolerate roller derby.) This was a good part for her. Maya Rudolph was fine, too, although from some angles I find her to be truly ungainly. The movie also featured Erin from The Office, that blond woman I can't really place, and the fat lady from that CBS sitcom I don't watch (which doesn't really narrow it down much), all of whom were entertaining. Oh, and John Hamm. I generally have some degree of goodwill for John Hamm.
Yesterday I had my fitness classes, followed by work and some dinner guests. Of course I did none of the work for preparing for the dinner guests, which is frankly how I prefer it. I did a lot of the work of eating dinner, though, which should not be overlooked. I am the hardest working man in the dining business.
Today, then, was my annual yard work day. As always, it began with a trip to Home Depot, where I had to precariously guide a pallet loaded with fifteen bags of wood chips through a garden center packed from wall to wall with cranky middle class white people. Then there was the ceremonial removal of last year's dead shrubs, with the attendant guilt and dumpster tossing. Then I spread the wood chips around my tiny front yard using only my foot as a tool and hoping not to encounter any worms. The one difference this year was that I have given up on shrubs entirely. I've just been hurt too many times.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Baller
I've actually been watching some of the NBA playoffs this year, primarily because for the first time in a long time they have true heroes and villains for me. I mean, sure, I always enjoyed announcing how Kobe leads the league in alleged rapes, but I couldn't fully hate the Lakers with the passion I can apply to the Heat. Kobe never had an ESPN special to announce his decision about who to allegedly rape. And he never looked quite as much like a test tube baby. On the other hand, I have a certain amount of affection for the Bulls, who have managed to truly not suck for the first time in a long time in Chicago basketball. Plus they have that big goofy white guy from like Latvia or somewhere, which makes the experience cultural. Not to mention Benny the Bull, who is sort of the Pacino of NBA mascots. Good on you, Chicago Bulls.
There have been a lot of close calls, though, which is sort of tough for me. I'm not a big fan of suspense or surprises. I actually enjoy watching the Olympics on a tape delay so I already know the outcomes and I don't have to worry about something bad happening. In fact, I just flipped over to the Disney Channel for five minutes in the hope that things would be going better when I returned. They were not.
I've actually been watching some of the NBA playoffs this year, primarily because for the first time in a long time they have true heroes and villains for me. I mean, sure, I always enjoyed announcing how Kobe leads the league in alleged rapes, but I couldn't fully hate the Lakers with the passion I can apply to the Heat. Kobe never had an ESPN special to announce his decision about who to allegedly rape. And he never looked quite as much like a test tube baby. On the other hand, I have a certain amount of affection for the Bulls, who have managed to truly not suck for the first time in a long time in Chicago basketball. Plus they have that big goofy white guy from like Latvia or somewhere, which makes the experience cultural. Not to mention Benny the Bull, who is sort of the Pacino of NBA mascots. Good on you, Chicago Bulls.
There have been a lot of close calls, though, which is sort of tough for me. I'm not a big fan of suspense or surprises. I actually enjoy watching the Olympics on a tape delay so I already know the outcomes and I don't have to worry about something bad happening. In fact, I just flipped over to the Disney Channel for five minutes in the hope that things would be going better when I returned. They were not.
Monday, May 16, 2011
It Really Feels Like That Many Hours
I am watching 127 Hours (or 127 Dresses, as I like to call it) right now, and it is so brutal that I may well have to turn it off. Somehow I thought there would be more to it than just James Franco and that rock, but there they were, within the first ten minutes of the movie. And now it's just him screaming at the rock, pulling at the rock, banging himself against the rock, jabbing at the rock with a knife, and -- oh, now he's drinking some water, that's a change. I'm finding this all painful to watch, so I can't imagine how I'm going to be when we finally get to the inevitable sawing. All in all, though, it's still less excruciating than The Blind Side.
I'm still somewhat behind on Oscar movies for this year, although ever since they moved the goalposts by having ten nominees instead of five I haven't taken this task very seriously. Like everybody else in the world, I saw Inception and Toy Story 3 when they came out this past summer. During the fall I saw Facebook: the Facebook Movie Sponsored by Facebook and then caught the crotchmunching ballet dancer craze with Natalie and Mila, which was all well and good. For some more advanced lesbianism, I caught The Kids Are All Right on DVD. (Or was it Blu Ray? I hear Annette Bening's bitchface really pops in HD.) I also watched Winter's Bone, which reminded me way too much of my childhood, on DVD. Oh, and I saw The King's Speech with all of the swears bleeped out on my way back from Switzerland. So what is that, seven? I may not make it past seven and a half.
I am watching 127 Hours (or 127 Dresses, as I like to call it) right now, and it is so brutal that I may well have to turn it off. Somehow I thought there would be more to it than just James Franco and that rock, but there they were, within the first ten minutes of the movie. And now it's just him screaming at the rock, pulling at the rock, banging himself against the rock, jabbing at the rock with a knife, and -- oh, now he's drinking some water, that's a change. I'm finding this all painful to watch, so I can't imagine how I'm going to be when we finally get to the inevitable sawing. All in all, though, it's still less excruciating than The Blind Side.
I'm still somewhat behind on Oscar movies for this year, although ever since they moved the goalposts by having ten nominees instead of five I haven't taken this task very seriously. Like everybody else in the world, I saw Inception and Toy Story 3 when they came out this past summer. During the fall I saw Facebook: the Facebook Movie Sponsored by Facebook and then caught the crotchmunching ballet dancer craze with Natalie and Mila, which was all well and good. For some more advanced lesbianism, I caught The Kids Are All Right on DVD. (Or was it Blu Ray? I hear Annette Bening's bitchface really pops in HD.) I also watched Winter's Bone, which reminded me way too much of my childhood, on DVD. Oh, and I saw The King's Speech with all of the swears bleeped out on my way back from Switzerland. So what is that, seven? I may not make it past seven and a half.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Another Weekend Gone...
Busy, busy weekend here. On Friday I went to the Joffrey, which is very much unlike me. Typically Fridays consist of getting into sweatpants and falling asleep to a Netflix in this day and age. But I stayed awake for two plus hours of ballet, and not just because I was hepped up on sugar from my stop at Dairy Queen beforehand. It was actually quite enjoyable -- a lot of the music was by Rachmaninov and Ravel, and the dance was very athletic and exciting for the most part, although there was perhaps a bit more pas de deuxing than I prefer. There was also a hilarious introductory video where the choreographers discussed their work, which sometimes included random references to Starbucks and Billy Elliot. Good times all around.
Yesterday I had my fitness classes, which I no longer find entirely debilitating physically, and a wedding, which was an enjoyable affair. There ceremony was short and meaningful (no Corinthians or communion) and they served the dinner family style, which meant I got to gorge myself on beef, chicken, AND pasta. I didn't know a ton of people there, but that really just left me room to make friends by drinking, which is something I am good at and don't do nearly enough any more. Plus there was a free breakfast buffet at the hotel; free waffles really can't be beat.
Busy, busy weekend here. On Friday I went to the Joffrey, which is very much unlike me. Typically Fridays consist of getting into sweatpants and falling asleep to a Netflix in this day and age. But I stayed awake for two plus hours of ballet, and not just because I was hepped up on sugar from my stop at Dairy Queen beforehand. It was actually quite enjoyable -- a lot of the music was by Rachmaninov and Ravel, and the dance was very athletic and exciting for the most part, although there was perhaps a bit more pas de deuxing than I prefer. There was also a hilarious introductory video where the choreographers discussed their work, which sometimes included random references to Starbucks and Billy Elliot. Good times all around.
Yesterday I had my fitness classes, which I no longer find entirely debilitating physically, and a wedding, which was an enjoyable affair. There ceremony was short and meaningful (no Corinthians or communion) and they served the dinner family style, which meant I got to gorge myself on beef, chicken, AND pasta. I didn't know a ton of people there, but that really just left me room to make friends by drinking, which is something I am good at and don't do nearly enough any more. Plus there was a free breakfast buffet at the hotel; free waffles really can't be beat.
Friday, May 13, 2011
Happy Happy
Happy hours with coworkers can be a very messy affair. I was reminded of this recently when I overheard what I can only assume was a group of lawyers talking about Jim Crow laws for their lighthearted Friday afternoon affair. Lawyers, frankly, are the worst. You just can't trust people who knock back a few drinks and start babbling about the dormant commerce clause.
Now, I am not one of those people who has a significant problem with shop talk, as a general matter. Frankly, in many cases, I can't imagine what else I would talk about with coworkers who are many decades more senior and many miles more suburban than I. I don't have a lot of insight to offer on which episode of NCIS was the best or how to make the most of your Disney vacation. But I certainly can chip in a comment or two on the judge we're currently before or the volume of our electronic production. I may want to shoot myself in the head the whole time, but at least it's not awkward silence.
There was a time (many employers ago) when I had some office happy hours that were truly scandalous. Well, scandalous in the PG-13 work sense; a little light over the clothes stuff. Now the real shocker is if I can actually stay awake long enough to go watch my coworkers make small talk about their Subarus. Oddly enough, I think I've just outlined a scenario in which everyone is lame.
Happy hours with coworkers can be a very messy affair. I was reminded of this recently when I overheard what I can only assume was a group of lawyers talking about Jim Crow laws for their lighthearted Friday afternoon affair. Lawyers, frankly, are the worst. You just can't trust people who knock back a few drinks and start babbling about the dormant commerce clause.
Now, I am not one of those people who has a significant problem with shop talk, as a general matter. Frankly, in many cases, I can't imagine what else I would talk about with coworkers who are many decades more senior and many miles more suburban than I. I don't have a lot of insight to offer on which episode of NCIS was the best or how to make the most of your Disney vacation. But I certainly can chip in a comment or two on the judge we're currently before or the volume of our electronic production. I may want to shoot myself in the head the whole time, but at least it's not awkward silence.
There was a time (many employers ago) when I had some office happy hours that were truly scandalous. Well, scandalous in the PG-13 work sense; a little light over the clothes stuff. Now the real shocker is if I can actually stay awake long enough to go watch my coworkers make small talk about their Subarus. Oddly enough, I think I've just outlined a scenario in which everyone is lame.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Prison Break
I had to go to the Cook County Jail today to visit my pro bono client. This is always an interesting ordeal. The jail is out in the middle of nowhere, so that it is impossible to access via any sort of reliable public transit. And there are probably a total of five parking spots, so there is much circling around and being deceived by hydrants to do on each visit. Then you have to go through intense security that consists of a large, aggressive woman making sarcastic remarks to you as she pats you down. If there is any time you really want a person to be thinking up zingers, it is as she is fondling your legs and groin. Let me also caution that this is not the time to ask any questions that you may have about, say, where you need to go in the enormous complex of about thirty buildings that is the jail, as they will be met only with icy silence and, possibly, a body cavity search.
Much of the jail is run by sassy black women, though, which I really appreciate. They kept launching into colorful stories without any sort of provocation or context. There was lots of jargon employed that was utterly meaningless to me, and yet I couldn't get enough. Frankly, I feel much more secure knowing that a lady named Towanda with six-inch turquoise fingernails is there to sass any miscreants back into submission. They might make it over the fence, but they'll never survive the colorful jibes.
I had to go to the Cook County Jail today to visit my pro bono client. This is always an interesting ordeal. The jail is out in the middle of nowhere, so that it is impossible to access via any sort of reliable public transit. And there are probably a total of five parking spots, so there is much circling around and being deceived by hydrants to do on each visit. Then you have to go through intense security that consists of a large, aggressive woman making sarcastic remarks to you as she pats you down. If there is any time you really want a person to be thinking up zingers, it is as she is fondling your legs and groin. Let me also caution that this is not the time to ask any questions that you may have about, say, where you need to go in the enormous complex of about thirty buildings that is the jail, as they will be met only with icy silence and, possibly, a body cavity search.
Much of the jail is run by sassy black women, though, which I really appreciate. They kept launching into colorful stories without any sort of provocation or context. There was lots of jargon employed that was utterly meaningless to me, and yet I couldn't get enough. Frankly, I feel much more secure knowing that a lady named Towanda with six-inch turquoise fingernails is there to sass any miscreants back into submission. They might make it over the fence, but they'll never survive the colorful jibes.
Sunday, May 08, 2011
Blast/Past
Recently my sister and I relocated a bunch of photos from when we went to Europe in the year 2000, shortly after discovering that Y2K would not in fact be the end of us all. Here are a few of my favorites.
Meg really thought it was important to stand in front of anything I wanted a picture of, presumably to provide her with an alibi should she be falsely accused of murder.
This is in the campanile in Venice. I have no idea who these people are, but I'm sure they were delighted to be included in our memories.
We had a tour guide, who very nearly got us killed on several occasions. She was perpetually on the verge of tears, which I guess is understandable when your job includes leading forty people on a bike tour of the Holland.
This is in the Tower of London. Mainly I wanted to include it for Meg's crazy eyes. Also she had little curly bangs then.
In the Louvre. Note how Meg cannily copies the Venus de Milo's look. Also that she had little curly bangs.
Recently my sister and I relocated a bunch of photos from when we went to Europe in the year 2000, shortly after discovering that Y2K would not in fact be the end of us all. Here are a few of my favorites.
Meg really thought it was important to stand in front of anything I wanted a picture of, presumably to provide her with an alibi should she be falsely accused of murder.
This is in the campanile in Venice. I have no idea who these people are, but I'm sure they were delighted to be included in our memories.
We had a tour guide, who very nearly got us killed on several occasions. She was perpetually on the verge of tears, which I guess is understandable when your job includes leading forty people on a bike tour of the Holland.
This is in the Tower of London. Mainly I wanted to include it for Meg's crazy eyes. Also she had little curly bangs then.
In the Louvre. Note how Meg cannily copies the Venus de Milo's look. Also that she had little curly bangs.Friday, May 06, 2011
May Days
I was walking to the train after work yesterday when I was surprised to see a huge line of people waiting to get into one of the crappiest Mexican restaurants of all time, in a very crowded field. That was when I realized it was Cinco de Mayo, which it seems to me has gotten to be a bigger and bigger deal each year, like St. Patrick's Day and Halloween and all the other holidays that provide excuses for public vomiting and gyrating to Nickelback. Hence the white people in sombreros and the special on nachos in the office cafeteria.
Now I'm sitting at my dining table trying to muster the energy to do something and watching The French Connection from my Netflix list. Like most things on my Netflix list, it seemed like something I would really want to see at the time but then sat on the shelf next to the blu-ray player for several months. So far it is genuinely not boring but also somewhat hard to follow, perhaps because I am doing other things while I watch it. Also I just find it difficult to buy Gene Hackman as a young person.
I was walking to the train after work yesterday when I was surprised to see a huge line of people waiting to get into one of the crappiest Mexican restaurants of all time, in a very crowded field. That was when I realized it was Cinco de Mayo, which it seems to me has gotten to be a bigger and bigger deal each year, like St. Patrick's Day and Halloween and all the other holidays that provide excuses for public vomiting and gyrating to Nickelback. Hence the white people in sombreros and the special on nachos in the office cafeteria.
Now I'm sitting at my dining table trying to muster the energy to do something and watching The French Connection from my Netflix list. Like most things on my Netflix list, it seemed like something I would really want to see at the time but then sat on the shelf next to the blu-ray player for several months. So far it is genuinely not boring but also somewhat hard to follow, perhaps because I am doing other things while I watch it. Also I just find it difficult to buy Gene Hackman as a young person.
Wednesday, May 04, 2011
Movie Magic
I forgot to mention that I watched two movies this past weekend. The first one was Poltergeist, which I have strangely never seen. It was all right. I'm sure if I'd seen it when everyone else saw it I would have been blown away, but special effects have come a long way since the '80s. Puppetry has sort of lost its cache since then. As have many of the haircuts pictured. A lot of it was suspenseful and interesting, but then there were long stretches that were just the old lady talking about ghosts and shit. The scene where the guy rips his face off was pretty cool, though. I have to try that some time.
I forgot to mention that I watched two movies this past weekend. The first one was Poltergeist, which I have strangely never seen. It was all right. I'm sure if I'd seen it when everyone else saw it I would have been blown away, but special effects have come a long way since the '80s. Puppetry has sort of lost its cache since then. As have many of the haircuts pictured. A lot of it was suspenseful and interesting, but then there were long stretches that were just the old lady talking about ghosts and shit. The scene where the guy rips his face off was pretty cool, though. I have to try that some time.
I did some internet research afterwards (as I frequently do) and it turns out a lot of people involved in the production died, which is kind of creepy. (I mean that they died young, not that they died just in general, which is fairly typical, from what I understand.) And Craig T. Nelson has made a lot of terrible movies since then, so I feel like there has to be some sort of curse. I mean, how else to you explain the evil that is Turner & Hooch?
The other movie was Salt, which I really don't have any good excuse for. It was a lot better than I expected, though, I have to say. It was basically just a slightly worse version of the Bourne movies minus Julia Styles' bitchface. And plus a lot of ridiculous plot twists that make less and less sense the more you think about them, which I really don't recommend doing. Angelina Jolie's Russian at least sounded sort of realistic, though. I suppose that counts for something.
Sunday, May 01, 2011
Breaking News(People)
Because I'm sure people read my blog for their breaking news, I'm going to report that Osama bin Laden has been killed by US forces. Or so they keep saying, although the President hasn't officially announced it. So far it's just been reporters talking to each other about how significant this announcement will be when it finally does happen. They hadn't even gotten Brian Williams out of bed yet when I turned on MSNBC. Chuck Todd sill has his glasses on. Or maybe he's always had glasses; I don't really know all that much about Chuck Todd.
Where was I when I heard the news? Watching Beyonce's Crazy in Love On Demand. Since I believe that was a summer 2003 video, I guess the capture is pretty timely by that measure.
In the past minute they just announced that the President was talking in two minutes and then took it back. They keep apologizing for the fact that the speech has been delayed. And then they bring on Andrea Mitchell, who is speaking from what looks like Murphy Brown's office, to talk some more about how this is significant. Geez, you think?
I can't wait for the Teabaggers to start demanding the long form death certificate.
Because I'm sure people read my blog for their breaking news, I'm going to report that Osama bin Laden has been killed by US forces. Or so they keep saying, although the President hasn't officially announced it. So far it's just been reporters talking to each other about how significant this announcement will be when it finally does happen. They hadn't even gotten Brian Williams out of bed yet when I turned on MSNBC. Chuck Todd sill has his glasses on. Or maybe he's always had glasses; I don't really know all that much about Chuck Todd.
Where was I when I heard the news? Watching Beyonce's Crazy in Love On Demand. Since I believe that was a summer 2003 video, I guess the capture is pretty timely by that measure.
In the past minute they just announced that the President was talking in two minutes and then took it back. They keep apologizing for the fact that the speech has been delayed. And then they bring on Andrea Mitchell, who is speaking from what looks like Murphy Brown's office, to talk some more about how this is significant. Geez, you think?
I can't wait for the Teabaggers to start demanding the long form death certificate.
