Monday, February 27, 2012
Oscars Wrap Up
So I'll admit that I watched with some friends and we were talking over most of it, but I think I pretty much got the gist of it. Racism is bad, movies are good, and Angelina Jolie's right leg has a mind of its own. Also, Billy Crystal did something horrible to his face and expects us not to notice.
I was sort of surprised by all the love for Hugo. I mean, I know that Scorcese could direct an Arby's commercial and get showered with love for it, but that kid seems so deeply creepy. And Sasha Baron Cohen? Really? If he's going to revive pop culture phenomena from five years ago, why doesn't he just cast Soulja Boy and call it a day?
The presenting was so, so bad as usual. I think the worst was J. Lo and Cameron Diaz, for their unique way of combining woodenness with trying too hard, but there was plenty to go around. Gwyneth Paltrow really looked like she wanted to be somewhere else, even if it had to be a Coldplay concert, and Ben Stiller seemed to be too busy looking frighteningly short next to Emma Stone to even get his lines out. Sad.
I was happy about Meryl, though. Now if she wins one more, the fifth one is free.
And The Artist and I are on good terms. Mainly because of the dog. Although someone told me he has Parkinson's. I'm not making this up. How much does that ruin your day? Glad I could share, of course.
So I'll admit that I watched with some friends and we were talking over most of it, but I think I pretty much got the gist of it. Racism is bad, movies are good, and Angelina Jolie's right leg has a mind of its own. Also, Billy Crystal did something horrible to his face and expects us not to notice.
I was sort of surprised by all the love for Hugo. I mean, I know that Scorcese could direct an Arby's commercial and get showered with love for it, but that kid seems so deeply creepy. And Sasha Baron Cohen? Really? If he's going to revive pop culture phenomena from five years ago, why doesn't he just cast Soulja Boy and call it a day?
The presenting was so, so bad as usual. I think the worst was J. Lo and Cameron Diaz, for their unique way of combining woodenness with trying too hard, but there was plenty to go around. Gwyneth Paltrow really looked like she wanted to be somewhere else, even if it had to be a Coldplay concert, and Ben Stiller seemed to be too busy looking frighteningly short next to Emma Stone to even get his lines out. Sad.
I was happy about Meryl, though. Now if she wins one more, the fifth one is free.
And The Artist and I are on good terms. Mainly because of the dog. Although someone told me he has Parkinson's. I'm not making this up. How much does that ruin your day? Glad I could share, of course.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Oscar Predictions 2012
The Oscars are finally here! Or so a person might say if they actually cared about the Oscars. I'll admit I'm finding it increasingly hard to get excited, what with all of the Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close and Billy Crystal and Cirque du Soliel and all. It's like they hired my mother to plan out the Oscars. Although she would probably include dogs wearing funny hats as well.
Anyway, in the spirit of trying to care, here are my fearless predictions, which I've decided to do without a lick of research into the actual films or performances, just like the real Oscar voters do:
Best Supporting Actor -- Christopher Plummer's supposed to win this, right? I'm not sure I actually even know who else is nominated in this category. The dog from The Artist? All I know is that if someone gives Jonah Hill an Oscar I'm moving to Newt Gingrich's moon colony.
Best Supporting Actress -- Again, doesn't that lady from The Help have it all locked up? I was doing other things during a good portion of that movie, but she seemed okay.
Best Actor -- It's probably going to be Clooney, but I'm going with Shia LaBouef for Transformers 3. He deserves an award just for managing to stay awake through filming.
Best Actress -- As is true pretty much every year, this should be Meryl, but it will probably be the other nice lady from The Help. Let me just remind you that Meryl Streep and Hilary Swank have the same number of Oscars. And only one of them ever guested on 90210.
Best Director -- The guy who directed The Artist. He's French, he likes silent movies, he'll give a short speech. Everyone goes home happy.
Best Picture -- My head is telling me The Artist, but my heart is telling me National Treasure 2: Book of Secrets. Who doesn't love a surprise ending?
The Oscars are finally here! Or so a person might say if they actually cared about the Oscars. I'll admit I'm finding it increasingly hard to get excited, what with all of the Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close and Billy Crystal and Cirque du Soliel and all. It's like they hired my mother to plan out the Oscars. Although she would probably include dogs wearing funny hats as well.
Anyway, in the spirit of trying to care, here are my fearless predictions, which I've decided to do without a lick of research into the actual films or performances, just like the real Oscar voters do:
Best Supporting Actor -- Christopher Plummer's supposed to win this, right? I'm not sure I actually even know who else is nominated in this category. The dog from The Artist? All I know is that if someone gives Jonah Hill an Oscar I'm moving to Newt Gingrich's moon colony.
Best Supporting Actress -- Again, doesn't that lady from The Help have it all locked up? I was doing other things during a good portion of that movie, but she seemed okay.
Best Actor -- It's probably going to be Clooney, but I'm going with Shia LaBouef for Transformers 3. He deserves an award just for managing to stay awake through filming.
Best Actress -- As is true pretty much every year, this should be Meryl, but it will probably be the other nice lady from The Help. Let me just remind you that Meryl Streep and Hilary Swank have the same number of Oscars. And only one of them ever guested on 90210.
Best Director -- The guy who directed The Artist. He's French, he likes silent movies, he'll give a short speech. Everyone goes home happy.
Best Picture -- My head is telling me The Artist, but my heart is telling me National Treasure 2: Book of Secrets. Who doesn't love a surprise ending?
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Everyday Miracles
So today was a pretty rough day at the office. I won't really get into it except to say that you know it's bad when you start wishing that maybe you'd get a kidney stone so you'd have a few days off to pass it. But regardless, I got home around 7:30 to find that not only was Sister Act 2: Back in the Habit on, but it was right at the part where a young Lauryn Hill performs Joyful, Joyful and a young Jennifer Love Hewitt does this amazing worm-like dance in the background. All I can say is that sometimes the lord really does work in mysterious ways.
So today was a pretty rough day at the office. I won't really get into it except to say that you know it's bad when you start wishing that maybe you'd get a kidney stone so you'd have a few days off to pass it. But regardless, I got home around 7:30 to find that not only was Sister Act 2: Back in the Habit on, but it was right at the part where a young Lauryn Hill performs Joyful, Joyful and a young Jennifer Love Hewitt does this amazing worm-like dance in the background. All I can say is that sometimes the lord really does work in mysterious ways.
Monday, February 20, 2012
Fun Facts About Our Presidents
-- George Washington didn't actually chop down a cherry tree; it was a human being.
-- Herbert Hoover boasted what was, at the time, the largest collection of beanie babies in the continental United States.
-- Chester A. Arthur was kind of a dick.
-- Millard Fillmore was romantically linked with Jennifer Aniston while filming an ill-fated live-action adaptation of The Snorks.
-- Calvin Coolidge hated the nickname "Silent Cal;" he preferred to be known as "Boner."
-- Abraham Lincoln did not read the Emancipation Proclamation when it was issued and, years later, was surprised to be told it did not provide for half price appetizers at Applebees.
-- Grover Cleveland had a ginormous dong.
-- Jimmy Carter was unaware that it was even possible for a president to serve a second term until three days after he had lost his reelection bid; he had been operating under the mistaken impression that he was running for Miss Hawaiian Tropic.
-- George H.W. Bush chose his vice president on a dare.
-- Contrary to popular opinion, Thomas Jefferson was not actually the star of TV's The Jeffersons.
-- William Henry Harrison was actually elected on a platform of dying in office within 30 days.
-- James A. Garfield was well known for hating Mondays, loving lasagna, and feuding with his adorable puppy pal Odie.
-- Despite all of his accomplishments and the help of his therapist, Dwight D. Eisenhower never learned to truly like Ike.
-- George Washington didn't actually chop down a cherry tree; it was a human being.
-- Herbert Hoover boasted what was, at the time, the largest collection of beanie babies in the continental United States.
-- Chester A. Arthur was kind of a dick.
-- Millard Fillmore was romantically linked with Jennifer Aniston while filming an ill-fated live-action adaptation of The Snorks.
-- Calvin Coolidge hated the nickname "Silent Cal;" he preferred to be known as "Boner."
-- Abraham Lincoln did not read the Emancipation Proclamation when it was issued and, years later, was surprised to be told it did not provide for half price appetizers at Applebees.
-- Grover Cleveland had a ginormous dong.
-- Jimmy Carter was unaware that it was even possible for a president to serve a second term until three days after he had lost his reelection bid; he had been operating under the mistaken impression that he was running for Miss Hawaiian Tropic.
-- George H.W. Bush chose his vice president on a dare.
-- Contrary to popular opinion, Thomas Jefferson was not actually the star of TV's The Jeffersons.
-- William Henry Harrison was actually elected on a platform of dying in office within 30 days.
-- James A. Garfield was well known for hating Mondays, loving lasagna, and feuding with his adorable puppy pal Odie.
-- Despite all of his accomplishments and the help of his therapist, Dwight D. Eisenhower never learned to truly like Ike.
Saturday, February 18, 2012
Help Wanted
I'm sure it's not completely clear from my posts on here or anything, but I have a little bit of a tendency towards the compulsive. When I see things that aren't completely the way I think they ought to be, I tend to try to "fix" them, even if it makes people want to smack me. For example, I have on more than one occasion explained to an innocent bystander the difference between the uses of "less" and "fewer." It is difficult for me to avoid providing fashion advice to random passersby. And I am the worst back seat driver in perhaps all of history. I just can't help telling people if they have the right of way or if it looks like that guy over there might be about to pull out in front of the car on his bike. In short, I am an absolute pleasure to be around at all times.
Anyway, all of this is occurring to me today because I happen to have a bit less on my agenda this weekend than I had planned, and it is making me absolutely crazy. Rather than actually enjoying life for five minutes by taking a walk or watching TV or something, I am making up projects for myself to work on. First there was the shredding project, whereby I disposed of all the old bank statements and bills I've been saving for years for no reason at all. Then there was the closet project, during which I reorganized my pants and sweaters by color. And next I think I shall alphabetize my CDs, since they're so likely to be flying off my shelves now that they've all been uploaded to my iPhone.
So yes, clearly I need help. But I've decided that all of this is somehow endearing, so the rest of the world needs to just step the hell into line behind it.
I'm sure it's not completely clear from my posts on here or anything, but I have a little bit of a tendency towards the compulsive. When I see things that aren't completely the way I think they ought to be, I tend to try to "fix" them, even if it makes people want to smack me. For example, I have on more than one occasion explained to an innocent bystander the difference between the uses of "less" and "fewer." It is difficult for me to avoid providing fashion advice to random passersby. And I am the worst back seat driver in perhaps all of history. I just can't help telling people if they have the right of way or if it looks like that guy over there might be about to pull out in front of the car on his bike. In short, I am an absolute pleasure to be around at all times.
Anyway, all of this is occurring to me today because I happen to have a bit less on my agenda this weekend than I had planned, and it is making me absolutely crazy. Rather than actually enjoying life for five minutes by taking a walk or watching TV or something, I am making up projects for myself to work on. First there was the shredding project, whereby I disposed of all the old bank statements and bills I've been saving for years for no reason at all. Then there was the closet project, during which I reorganized my pants and sweaters by color. And next I think I shall alphabetize my CDs, since they're so likely to be flying off my shelves now that they've all been uploaded to my iPhone.
So yes, clearly I need help. But I've decided that all of this is somehow endearing, so the rest of the world needs to just step the hell into line behind it.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Presented Without Comment
Today I came home to find the following note taped to the front door of my building:
Deliveries for Unit One,
PLEASE do not ring the buzzer more than once. It does not make me move any faster. All it does is (1) wakes up babies, (2) upsets dogs, and (3) makes me angry. I'll get to the door when I can. Thanks.
Wow, it turns out the "without comment" part of this is harder than I anticipated.
Today I came home to find the following note taped to the front door of my building:
Deliveries for Unit One,
PLEASE do not ring the buzzer more than once. It does not make me move any faster. All it does is (1) wakes up babies, (2) upsets dogs, and (3) makes me angry. I'll get to the door when I can. Thanks.
Wow, it turns out the "without comment" part of this is harder than I anticipated.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Passages
Have you ever noticed how sometimes four days go by and you haven't even touched your blog? I'd like to claim it was because I was doing something truly fascinating instead, but mainly I've just been playing with my phone. I did see The Iron Lady, I suppose, which was terrifically depressing. I mean, I wasn't expecting a comic romp in the tradition of The Devil Wears Prada or anything, but mainly it's just a movie about someone suffering from dementia and dying slowly. The acting is crazy good, but at this point Meryl could portray O.J. Simpson and actually find the real killer and still lose the Oscar to Cameron Diaz just because people decide it's really "her year." And it's from the director of Mamma Mia! so you just know it's got to be an insightful thinkpiece about power and mortality. Featuring the songs of Abba!
I guess the Grammys happened, too. I wasn't really sure how to feel about Jennifer Hudson's tribute to Whitney Houston, mainly because it seemed like such an odd spinoff from her Weight Watchers commercial featuring the music of Whitney Houston. Plus I just kept wondering why it couldn't have been Whitney Cummings who died instead.
Have you ever noticed how sometimes four days go by and you haven't even touched your blog? I'd like to claim it was because I was doing something truly fascinating instead, but mainly I've just been playing with my phone. I did see The Iron Lady, I suppose, which was terrifically depressing. I mean, I wasn't expecting a comic romp in the tradition of The Devil Wears Prada or anything, but mainly it's just a movie about someone suffering from dementia and dying slowly. The acting is crazy good, but at this point Meryl could portray O.J. Simpson and actually find the real killer and still lose the Oscar to Cameron Diaz just because people decide it's really "her year." And it's from the director of Mamma Mia! so you just know it's got to be an insightful thinkpiece about power and mortality. Featuring the songs of Abba!
I guess the Grammys happened, too. I wasn't really sure how to feel about Jennifer Hudson's tribute to Whitney Houston, mainly because it seemed like such an odd spinoff from her Weight Watchers commercial featuring the music of Whitney Houston. Plus I just kept wondering why it couldn't have been Whitney Cummings who died instead.
Friday, February 10, 2012
Gifted
My sister got me Disney's The Hunchback of Notre Dame on DVD for my birthday. Hold on, that isn't the funny part yet. For some reason, the DVD came packaged with a bunch of Valentine's Day cards that look like a divorced dad bought them at CVS while taking the kids to school after realizing that it was, in fact, Valentine's Day. I'm dying to give these out to my coworkers, but on the other hand I'm not completely sure I'm ready to get fired yet. Here's just a sampling:
I don't even know what Disney movie these characters are from. Or why they're playing soccer. But it's always nice to be "decreed" someone's Valentine. I hear Queen Elizabeth issues those decrees all the time.
This I do recognize. It's from Pete's Dragon, which I remember thinking was dated and uncool when I was in like first grade. Seriously, this was the movie that, if they'd show it in class, you'd wonder if you maybe wouldn't rather be doing phonics worksheets instead.
The Swiss Family Robinson. I don't think I ever saw it, but I did visit their treehouse at Disney World, which I remember mainly because it was the place I first realized I was getting severely sunburned. I'm not sure I'd really love to be shipwrecked with anyone, though. At least not after I got dysentery.
This one kind of blows my mind. The "buddies" are a current direct-to-video Disney franchise. They're offspring of the "Air Bud" movies from like the '90s that weren't even very popular at the time. They have like a million movies which are essentially just puppy porn, but with different themes, like "Halloween" or, in this case, "space." This is actually happening, people. Stand up and do something about it.
This one is, of course, The Hunchback of Notre Dame. The cleaned up Disney version, not the slightly terrifying French original. But still, I don't remember the hunchback having a small child as a best friend. I'm pretty sure the hunchback wasn't allowed near children.
My sister got me Disney's The Hunchback of Notre Dame on DVD for my birthday. Hold on, that isn't the funny part yet. For some reason, the DVD came packaged with a bunch of Valentine's Day cards that look like a divorced dad bought them at CVS while taking the kids to school after realizing that it was, in fact, Valentine's Day. I'm dying to give these out to my coworkers, but on the other hand I'm not completely sure I'm ready to get fired yet. Here's just a sampling:
I don't even know what Disney movie these characters are from. Or why they're playing soccer. But it's always nice to be "decreed" someone's Valentine. I hear Queen Elizabeth issues those decrees all the time.
This I do recognize. It's from Pete's Dragon, which I remember thinking was dated and uncool when I was in like first grade. Seriously, this was the movie that, if they'd show it in class, you'd wonder if you maybe wouldn't rather be doing phonics worksheets instead.
The Swiss Family Robinson. I don't think I ever saw it, but I did visit their treehouse at Disney World, which I remember mainly because it was the place I first realized I was getting severely sunburned. I'm not sure I'd really love to be shipwrecked with anyone, though. At least not after I got dysentery.
This one kind of blows my mind. The "buddies" are a current direct-to-video Disney franchise. They're offspring of the "Air Bud" movies from like the '90s that weren't even very popular at the time. They have like a million movies which are essentially just puppy porn, but with different themes, like "Halloween" or, in this case, "space." This is actually happening, people. Stand up and do something about it.
This one is, of course, The Hunchback of Notre Dame. The cleaned up Disney version, not the slightly terrifying French original. But still, I don't remember the hunchback having a small child as a best friend. I'm pretty sure the hunchback wasn't allowed near children.
Wednesday, February 08, 2012
Hair Affair
Well, it's happened. I've become a person who travels half an hour out of his way just to get a haircut he likes. And by train, no less. During rush hour. I don't even know who I am any more. I used to go to the Great Clips next to the Dominick's and the Armed Forces Recruiting Center, for heaven's sake. But, well, the lady is really cool and she always has great ideas for my hair and today she even trimmed one of my eyebrow hairs without provocation. Oh, and she loves dogs, like Diane Lane in Must Love Dogs. So yeah, she's pretty great.
To be fair, she worked about three blocks from my house when I started going to her. She just changed salons last month and apparently decided she also needed a new zip code. I thought about just transitioning to a new person at the old place but, well, I didn't want to break in someone new on the small talk. (At Great Clips a lot of them didn't speak English very well, so I could just sit there silently. And sometimes they gave scalp massages.) Thirty minutes is a long time to fill when it's just the weather and everyone's health all the time.
So I found myself on the Blue Line after work today. And it smelled like poop. So strongly that lots of people were covering their noses with their scarves or jacket collars. Another glamorous day in the big city.
Well, it's happened. I've become a person who travels half an hour out of his way just to get a haircut he likes. And by train, no less. During rush hour. I don't even know who I am any more. I used to go to the Great Clips next to the Dominick's and the Armed Forces Recruiting Center, for heaven's sake. But, well, the lady is really cool and she always has great ideas for my hair and today she even trimmed one of my eyebrow hairs without provocation. Oh, and she loves dogs, like Diane Lane in Must Love Dogs. So yeah, she's pretty great.
To be fair, she worked about three blocks from my house when I started going to her. She just changed salons last month and apparently decided she also needed a new zip code. I thought about just transitioning to a new person at the old place but, well, I didn't want to break in someone new on the small talk. (At Great Clips a lot of them didn't speak English very well, so I could just sit there silently. And sometimes they gave scalp massages.) Thirty minutes is a long time to fill when it's just the weather and everyone's health all the time.
So I found myself on the Blue Line after work today. And it smelled like poop. So strongly that lots of people were covering their noses with their scarves or jacket collars. Another glamorous day in the big city.
Monday, February 06, 2012
Hey, How About that Super Bowl, Huh?
I love the day after the Super Bowl because it is so easy to anticipate what all of the awkward elevator conversation is going to be about. You just don't get that degree of predictability with the Oscars, an unusual weather event, or some horrific local news story -- there's still always the chance that someone's going to want to talk about their granddaughter's dance recital instead. Although to be fair, I can make conversational mince meat out of that dance recital. The point, however, is just that the Super Bowl is pretty much universal. Even if, like me, you are utterly uninterested in it, you are going to look in the general direction of the television and talk about Teen Mom with a bunch of girls while eating some dip, goddamnit.
As Super Bowls go, this one was pretty good for me, I guess. There were these really good pigs in blankets and I had a two liter of Diet Coke all to my self. Neither of the teams was one that people in this area have a huge rooting interest in as a general matter, so I could get away with feigning only mild interest. Kelly Clarkson looked mysteriously thin (I'm guessing she's limited herself to one ham hock a day now) and had some of her best ever hair (America fell in love with her despite and not because of those really aggressive highlights). Madonna looked slightly drugged but made it through the halftime show alive, which is saying a lot for a gal of her age. And the game was over before 9 PM, getting me home and in bed before 11. It turns out that I am the new national champion.
I love the day after the Super Bowl because it is so easy to anticipate what all of the awkward elevator conversation is going to be about. You just don't get that degree of predictability with the Oscars, an unusual weather event, or some horrific local news story -- there's still always the chance that someone's going to want to talk about their granddaughter's dance recital instead. Although to be fair, I can make conversational mince meat out of that dance recital. The point, however, is just that the Super Bowl is pretty much universal. Even if, like me, you are utterly uninterested in it, you are going to look in the general direction of the television and talk about Teen Mom with a bunch of girls while eating some dip, goddamnit.
As Super Bowls go, this one was pretty good for me, I guess. There were these really good pigs in blankets and I had a two liter of Diet Coke all to my self. Neither of the teams was one that people in this area have a huge rooting interest in as a general matter, so I could get away with feigning only mild interest. Kelly Clarkson looked mysteriously thin (I'm guessing she's limited herself to one ham hock a day now) and had some of her best ever hair (America fell in love with her despite and not because of those really aggressive highlights). Madonna looked slightly drugged but made it through the halftime show alive, which is saying a lot for a gal of her age. And the game was over before 9 PM, getting me home and in bed before 11. It turns out that I am the new national champion.
Saturday, February 04, 2012
Milestones
Today is my birthday. I tend to think this is a fact that loses some of its significance as we age. At 8, a birthday means a sheet cake, lots of Transformers, and riding in the giant skate at Roller Country. At 16, it means pretending that you know how to parallel park and trying to get your cousin to buy you Zima. At 21, it means making out with your TA and throwing up jello shots on the quad. But by 34, it really just means struggling to remember to enter the right age into the elliptical. Not that that isn't exciting. I'm betting they'll give me 5-10 extra calories burned just out of sympathy.
Anyway, because it's my birthday, I'm taking every little thing that doesn't go exactly the way I want it to as a huge personal affront. The fact that an enormous angry woman in a tube top came into my kickboxing class ten minutes late this morning and planted herself about eleven inches in front of me was obviously evidence of a huge cosmic plot against me, and the fact that the television is littered with PGA Golf and Secondhand Lions as opposed to a Top Model marathon is, in fact, the worst thing that has ever happened to anyone. And don't even get me started on the fact that I didn't win the Jewel Wish Big Win Big contest as I was clearly born to do. Actually, you don't need to get me started. I have been started. Fuck Jewel. Fuck it hard with Michael Fassbender's penis.
I have high hopes for the rest of the day, though. There is to be a cookie cake, after all.
Today is my birthday. I tend to think this is a fact that loses some of its significance as we age. At 8, a birthday means a sheet cake, lots of Transformers, and riding in the giant skate at Roller Country. At 16, it means pretending that you know how to parallel park and trying to get your cousin to buy you Zima. At 21, it means making out with your TA and throwing up jello shots on the quad. But by 34, it really just means struggling to remember to enter the right age into the elliptical. Not that that isn't exciting. I'm betting they'll give me 5-10 extra calories burned just out of sympathy.
Anyway, because it's my birthday, I'm taking every little thing that doesn't go exactly the way I want it to as a huge personal affront. The fact that an enormous angry woman in a tube top came into my kickboxing class ten minutes late this morning and planted herself about eleven inches in front of me was obviously evidence of a huge cosmic plot against me, and the fact that the television is littered with PGA Golf and Secondhand Lions as opposed to a Top Model marathon is, in fact, the worst thing that has ever happened to anyone. And don't even get me started on the fact that I didn't win the Jewel Wish Big Win Big contest as I was clearly born to do. Actually, you don't need to get me started. I have been started. Fuck Jewel. Fuck it hard with Michael Fassbender's penis.
I have high hopes for the rest of the day, though. There is to be a cookie cake, after all.
