Monday, December 30, 2013
2013 Year in Review
Wow, a lot of stuff sure happened in 2013! I'm not really remembering what any of it was at present, but it happened. I mean, was Libya this year? No wait, I think that was last year. The election was last year, too. Well, there were certainly elections this year, but not the kind that people get super excited about. And the Olympics were last year; we've already had time to forget all of our Olympic heroes by now, just in time for the next set. Oh, the government shutdown happened in 2013, so that's something. I just chalk that up to nineties nostalgia. We got a new Pope, and he seems pretty good so far, although I've seen raisins with more charisma than his predecessor (the California Raisins, natch). Edward Snowden was a thing. Namely the finest celebrity eyeglass model since Sarah Palin. What else, what else? Nelson Mandela, Miley Cyrus. Not together, actually, although I think that would have been pretty cute. Was this the year Jennifer Lawrence won her Oscar? She's lovable, right?
Of course, I had a big year personally, what with my big Vienna trip, so endlessly chronicled here, and my shows, which were also rather endlessly chronicled, come to think of it. And my sister's wedding. And Former Roommate Liz's wedding. Good lord, everyone is married. Except Jennifer Aniston; she's still going to die alone.
2013 was a great year! Or something! And regardless, 2014 is definitely happening no matter what!
Wow, a lot of stuff sure happened in 2013! I'm not really remembering what any of it was at present, but it happened. I mean, was Libya this year? No wait, I think that was last year. The election was last year, too. Well, there were certainly elections this year, but not the kind that people get super excited about. And the Olympics were last year; we've already had time to forget all of our Olympic heroes by now, just in time for the next set. Oh, the government shutdown happened in 2013, so that's something. I just chalk that up to nineties nostalgia. We got a new Pope, and he seems pretty good so far, although I've seen raisins with more charisma than his predecessor (the California Raisins, natch). Edward Snowden was a thing. Namely the finest celebrity eyeglass model since Sarah Palin. What else, what else? Nelson Mandela, Miley Cyrus. Not together, actually, although I think that would have been pretty cute. Was this the year Jennifer Lawrence won her Oscar? She's lovable, right?
Of course, I had a big year personally, what with my big Vienna trip, so endlessly chronicled here, and my shows, which were also rather endlessly chronicled, come to think of it. And my sister's wedding. And Former Roommate Liz's wedding. Good lord, everyone is married. Except Jennifer Aniston; she's still going to die alone.
2013 was a great year! Or something! And regardless, 2014 is definitely happening no matter what!
Saturday, December 28, 2013
Returns
So I am headed back to Chicago tonight. Taking the train again, which I'm not exactly looking forward to, as it always involves me getting reprimanded for things I didn't know were things. But this time it turns out that a friend is taking the same train, so we're going to see if the journey can be improved by delightful conversation and alcohol. I've got a good feeling about that, although I doubt the dining car serves Boone's Farm products.
It has been a good holiday, I think. My parents are fantastic and our dogs are adequate. (They have a bad tendency to start barking relentlessly at 6:30 in the morning.) Meg and her husband were here briefly to experience the wonders of ordinary objects vaguely shaped like religious icons and dining that is always structured as though you are carbo loading for a marathon. And I saw some old friends, a shocking number of whom were pregnant. So score one for fertility and Quincy, I guess.
Anyway, travels ahead, but I am likely to report back soon.
So I am headed back to Chicago tonight. Taking the train again, which I'm not exactly looking forward to, as it always involves me getting reprimanded for things I didn't know were things. But this time it turns out that a friend is taking the same train, so we're going to see if the journey can be improved by delightful conversation and alcohol. I've got a good feeling about that, although I doubt the dining car serves Boone's Farm products.
It has been a good holiday, I think. My parents are fantastic and our dogs are adequate. (They have a bad tendency to start barking relentlessly at 6:30 in the morning.) Meg and her husband were here briefly to experience the wonders of ordinary objects vaguely shaped like religious icons and dining that is always structured as though you are carbo loading for a marathon. And I saw some old friends, a shocking number of whom were pregnant. So score one for fertility and Quincy, I guess.
Anyway, travels ahead, but I am likely to report back soon.
Friday, December 27, 2013
And the Pivot to the New Year Begins
As someone who, thanks to my parents, endured the holiday marathons of both Monk and Psych, I can tell you that TV programming as we approach Christmas becomes more and more concentrated on programs involving Santa or the Baby Jesus or Mariah Carey in a fur-fringed tube top. The day after Christmas, though, this immediately stops. Reruns of Law & Order return to their primacy in the majority of the cable world. News networks shift from human interest stories and coverage of the fact that people are shopping back to the usual wars and political shouting. I'm pretty sure the Hallmark Movie Channel just shows dead air for forty-eight hours.
But the good news is that recapping the year and counting things down is good for pretty much all of December. And indeed it will go into high gear for the next few days. So in that spirit, here are my top ten movies that were not released in 2013 for 2013:
10. Big Momma's House 2
9. Willow
8. All About Steve (Director's Cut)
7. From Justin to Kelly
6. Return of the Jedi (Ewok portions only)
5. Mother May I Sleep With Danger
4. She's the Man (portions that foreshadow Amanda Bynes' decline into madness only)
3. Jetsons: The Movie
2. JAG (if it were a movie)
1. Citizen Kane
More end of year fun undoubtedly to follow!
As someone who, thanks to my parents, endured the holiday marathons of both Monk and Psych, I can tell you that TV programming as we approach Christmas becomes more and more concentrated on programs involving Santa or the Baby Jesus or Mariah Carey in a fur-fringed tube top. The day after Christmas, though, this immediately stops. Reruns of Law & Order return to their primacy in the majority of the cable world. News networks shift from human interest stories and coverage of the fact that people are shopping back to the usual wars and political shouting. I'm pretty sure the Hallmark Movie Channel just shows dead air for forty-eight hours.
But the good news is that recapping the year and counting things down is good for pretty much all of December. And indeed it will go into high gear for the next few days. So in that spirit, here are my top ten movies that were not released in 2013 for 2013:
10. Big Momma's House 2
9. Willow
8. All About Steve (Director's Cut)
7. From Justin to Kelly
6. Return of the Jedi (Ewok portions only)
5. Mother May I Sleep With Danger
4. She's the Man (portions that foreshadow Amanda Bynes' decline into madness only)
3. Jetsons: The Movie
2. JAG (if it were a movie)
1. Citizen Kane
More end of year fun undoubtedly to follow!
Thursday, December 26, 2013
'Twas the Day After Christmas...
So I made the mistake of going out shopping today. I sort of knew it would be horrible but I needed contact solution badly. Now I know that it would have been preferable just to store my contacts in battery acid. I had to park approximately three hundred miles from the front door of the Wal-Mart, and on my way in I was body checked by a portly middle aged lady in a pink Garfield sweatshirt. Then I could of course not find anything, resulting in multiple trips back and forth through the people marauding around the post-Christmas clearance racks. (And really, how is candy kept all the way across the store from all of the other food type items?) And the checkout. My lord, the checkout. Apparently people view the twenty items or less sign as more aspirational than strictly binding. And the cashier was apparently trying out some new stand-up material for each person who passed through. It did give me time to read the article about Obama allegedly murdering the lady who verified his birth certificate. (It didn't take long to come up with that conspiracy theory, did it?) Anyway, it was awful and I shall never leave the house again. Or at least not until 6:30 or so.
So I made the mistake of going out shopping today. I sort of knew it would be horrible but I needed contact solution badly. Now I know that it would have been preferable just to store my contacts in battery acid. I had to park approximately three hundred miles from the front door of the Wal-Mart, and on my way in I was body checked by a portly middle aged lady in a pink Garfield sweatshirt. Then I could of course not find anything, resulting in multiple trips back and forth through the people marauding around the post-Christmas clearance racks. (And really, how is candy kept all the way across the store from all of the other food type items?) And the checkout. My lord, the checkout. Apparently people view the twenty items or less sign as more aspirational than strictly binding. And the cashier was apparently trying out some new stand-up material for each person who passed through. It did give me time to read the article about Obama allegedly murdering the lady who verified his birth certificate. (It didn't take long to come up with that conspiracy theory, did it?) Anyway, it was awful and I shall never leave the house again. Or at least not until 6:30 or so.
Wednesday, December 25, 2013
Happy Holidays!
The holidays mean different things to different people. For many of my neighbors here in Wrigleyville, for instance, they mean playing Train so loudly it can be heard from space at nine fifteen in the morning while putting the finishing touches on your Slutty Baby Jesus costume for that bar crawl where you got tetanus last year. For moms and dads all over, they mean searching high and low for the perfect present before finally giving up, buying the kids a gently-used Norbit DVD and beef jerky at the corner gas station, and spending the rest of your holiday budget on black market painkillers. And for executives at the Hallmark Channel, they mean devising new plots involving neighborhood decorating contests, crusty old men who may or may not be Santa, and small towns that somehow still haven’t been invaded by Wal-Mart, as you debate the relative merits of Elizabeth Berkley and Hilarie [sic] Burton as the uptight magazine journalist who learns to love again. The truth is, there are almost as many holiday meanings as there are Katy Perry songs about triumphing over something or Us Weekly articles chronicling the uncertain state of Amanda Bynes’ mental health.
But there are also some commonalities, of course. The holidays mean family for everyone, whether it’s the family that gave birth to you and traumatized you by not knowing the difference between Pac Man and Ms. Pac Man when selecting your Halloween costume in first grade or the family that you found through a shared love of Hermann Hesse and Boone’s Farm Wine Product during college. The holidays are a time when we all try to make the world a better place, whether it’s by baking some Christmas cookies for the cranky old lady across the hall who always smells of peach Schnapps and has inappropriate theories about Beyonce or by encouraging Carrie Underwood to focus on any interests she may have other than the musical theater. And no matter who you are, the holidays mean giving thanks for what you have (i.e. sick rack, heart of gold, Salad Shooter) but still kind of hoping that Santa will remember to bring you something special to brighten up your season (i.e. wine rack, Hart of Dixie, Chillow). So in the end, we’re all really kind of the same, except that some of us are richer, better looking, and more likely to have sex with models.
The holidays mean different things to different people. For many of my neighbors here in Wrigleyville, for instance, they mean playing Train so loudly it can be heard from space at nine fifteen in the morning while putting the finishing touches on your Slutty Baby Jesus costume for that bar crawl where you got tetanus last year. For moms and dads all over, they mean searching high and low for the perfect present before finally giving up, buying the kids a gently-used Norbit DVD and beef jerky at the corner gas station, and spending the rest of your holiday budget on black market painkillers. And for executives at the Hallmark Channel, they mean devising new plots involving neighborhood decorating contests, crusty old men who may or may not be Santa, and small towns that somehow still haven’t been invaded by Wal-Mart, as you debate the relative merits of Elizabeth Berkley and Hilarie [sic] Burton as the uptight magazine journalist who learns to love again. The truth is, there are almost as many holiday meanings as there are Katy Perry songs about triumphing over something or Us Weekly articles chronicling the uncertain state of Amanda Bynes’ mental health.
But there are also some commonalities, of course. The holidays mean family for everyone, whether it’s the family that gave birth to you and traumatized you by not knowing the difference between Pac Man and Ms. Pac Man when selecting your Halloween costume in first grade or the family that you found through a shared love of Hermann Hesse and Boone’s Farm Wine Product during college. The holidays are a time when we all try to make the world a better place, whether it’s by baking some Christmas cookies for the cranky old lady across the hall who always smells of peach Schnapps and has inappropriate theories about Beyonce or by encouraging Carrie Underwood to focus on any interests she may have other than the musical theater. And no matter who you are, the holidays mean giving thanks for what you have (i.e. sick rack, heart of gold, Salad Shooter) but still kind of hoping that Santa will remember to bring you something special to brighten up your season (i.e. wine rack, Hart of Dixie, Chillow). So in the end, we’re all really kind of the same, except that some of us are richer, better looking, and more likely to have sex with models.
And
speaking of having sex with models, that’s a really bad subject to end a
paragraph with if you want to have an elegant transition to, well, almost
anything else. Now I feel like I’m going to be talking about making artisanal
butters with my Aunt Carol and you’re just going to be thinking about getting
Elle “The Body” Macpherson or Gisele “The Homewrecker” Bundchen to do weird
things involving shower shoes and the original cast recording of Andrew Lloyd
Webber’s Evita. But regardless,
it’s been a great year. And I know that I have all of you to thank for that, so
thanks! Happy holidays and best wishes for 2014 to you all. And also, Miley
Cyrus! She’s not really relevant here, but based on the way 2013 played out, I
feel like there must be some kind of law requiring that she be mentioned every
ten minutes or so.
Tuesday, December 24, 2013
How Are We Celebrating Christmas This Year?
-- Selling hair to buy watch chain; realizing that market for hair has really tanked recently.
-- Listening to Frosty the Snowman's shrieks of agony when hit by the bright midday sun.
-- Refusing to give in to carolers' ridiculous demands for figgy pudding.
-- Nursing anger at God for allowing Idina Menzel to make a holiday children's film.
-- Wondering what the hell to do with these Twelve Lords a Leaping.
-- Eating an entire ham.
-- Scraping burnt reindeer cookies of the bottom of the oven.
-- Wishing midnight mass could be a little more country, a little more rock and roll.
-- Enjoying time with friends and family; suppressing desire to strangle friends and family.
-- Being amazed by the number of Christmas-themed Matlock episodes they made.
-- Taking our tops off.
-- Threatening to get litigious over mistletoe incidents.
-- Sobbing gently in the shower.
-- Selling hair to buy watch chain; realizing that market for hair has really tanked recently.
-- Listening to Frosty the Snowman's shrieks of agony when hit by the bright midday sun.
-- Refusing to give in to carolers' ridiculous demands for figgy pudding.
-- Nursing anger at God for allowing Idina Menzel to make a holiday children's film.
-- Wondering what the hell to do with these Twelve Lords a Leaping.
-- Eating an entire ham.
-- Scraping burnt reindeer cookies of the bottom of the oven.
-- Wishing midnight mass could be a little more country, a little more rock and roll.
-- Enjoying time with friends and family; suppressing desire to strangle friends and family.
-- Being amazed by the number of Christmas-themed Matlock episodes they made.
-- Taking our tops off.
-- Threatening to get litigious over mistletoe incidents.
-- Sobbing gently in the shower.
Monday, December 23, 2013
'Tis the Season
The holidays are here. Actually, they've been here for about two months, ever since Walgreen's swapped out the Halloween candy for Christmas candy and Hallmark started playing their Haylie Duff Christmas-themed movies. (Haylie Duff also has a Christmas-themed Lifetime movie, making her a rare crossover success.) The holiday bar crawls were last weekend, resulting in the construction of impromptu ashtrays all over Wrigleyville and, in some cases, public handjobs. It is truly the most wonderful time of the year.
I'll be celebrating with my parents in Quincy, as per usual. I'm sure there will be board games and chain restaurants involved. Also an Amtrak journey where what is lacked in organization is made up for with sassiness. I'm actually not 100% sure that that's how you spell sassiness, but blogger's spell check is giving me the okay, so that's good enough for me.
Anyway, I'm kind of happy about it. Not being in the office is never a bad thing, unless it's because you're dying or being audited or something. And it's always nice to see my family and friends, even if they do tend to remember embarrassing stories about me that could easily serve as blackmail material. I'll report in from time to time, because I am sure you will be hanging on my every word.
The holidays are here. Actually, they've been here for about two months, ever since Walgreen's swapped out the Halloween candy for Christmas candy and Hallmark started playing their Haylie Duff Christmas-themed movies. (Haylie Duff also has a Christmas-themed Lifetime movie, making her a rare crossover success.) The holiday bar crawls were last weekend, resulting in the construction of impromptu ashtrays all over Wrigleyville and, in some cases, public handjobs. It is truly the most wonderful time of the year.
I'll be celebrating with my parents in Quincy, as per usual. I'm sure there will be board games and chain restaurants involved. Also an Amtrak journey where what is lacked in organization is made up for with sassiness. I'm actually not 100% sure that that's how you spell sassiness, but blogger's spell check is giving me the okay, so that's good enough for me.
Anyway, I'm kind of happy about it. Not being in the office is never a bad thing, unless it's because you're dying or being audited or something. And it's always nice to see my family and friends, even if they do tend to remember embarrassing stories about me that could easily serve as blackmail material. I'll report in from time to time, because I am sure you will be hanging on my every word.
Thursday, December 12, 2013
More Exciting Times
Because frankly, it's much easier for me to just post pictures than to actually come up with something to write about.
I just like this photo because I feel like we look like the stars of a teen drama. And yes, I realize that we're all in our twenties and thirties. Please remember Gabrielle Carteris.
Did I mention that I had a wig? I think it looks insane, but I guess that's maybe what they were going for.
There was a flesh-colored body suit involved for some reason. Also, note the glasses I'm wearing here, which kind of make me look like a child molester.
There were munchkins, and also sexy lady cops. It's really a pretty feminist show, frankly.
Speaking of feminism. The tubs weren't super comfortable at this cast party, so we went with a bed party instead.
Because frankly, it's much easier for me to just post pictures than to actually come up with something to write about.
I just like this photo because I feel like we look like the stars of a teen drama. And yes, I realize that we're all in our twenties and thirties. Please remember Gabrielle Carteris.
Did I mention that I had a wig? I think it looks insane, but I guess that's maybe what they were going for.
There was a flesh-colored body suit involved for some reason. Also, note the glasses I'm wearing here, which kind of make me look like a child molester.
There were munchkins, and also sexy lady cops. It's really a pretty feminist show, frankly.
Speaking of feminism. The tubs weren't super comfortable at this cast party, so we went with a bed party instead.
Tuesday, December 10, 2013
Exciting Times
Well, I'm back. I am no longer a star of stage and screen. That's rather tragic, of course, but I'm sure my amateur acting career shall rise again. Anyway, here is some photographic evidence.
I played this guy, who wasn't any sort of actual character, but just an excuse for me to have a fake tattoo and wear an obscene hat. This is supposed to be me getting fake arrested, but everyone says it looks like I'm getting an anal probe.
Somehow the cast party moved to the tub. And by somehow, I mean that it was my doing. That is one hell of a comfortable tub.
I'm the creature on the left. I found the mask is especially fun when you surprise people with it while they're trying to watch Downton Abbey.
I also played a contemporary-ish version of the tin man. Either that, or I just like wearing a funnel on my head. I suppose it could be both.
The eyewear isn't really for anything; they just have a big box with eyewear in it, which ended up taking up several hours of my life. Obviously, I need more hobbies.
Well, I'm back. I am no longer a star of stage and screen. That's rather tragic, of course, but I'm sure my amateur acting career shall rise again. Anyway, here is some photographic evidence.
I played this guy, who wasn't any sort of actual character, but just an excuse for me to have a fake tattoo and wear an obscene hat. This is supposed to be me getting fake arrested, but everyone says it looks like I'm getting an anal probe.
Somehow the cast party moved to the tub. And by somehow, I mean that it was my doing. That is one hell of a comfortable tub.
I'm the creature on the left. I found the mask is especially fun when you surprise people with it while they're trying to watch Downton Abbey.
I also played a contemporary-ish version of the tin man. Either that, or I just like wearing a funnel on my head. I suppose it could be both.
The eyewear isn't really for anything; they just have a big box with eyewear in it, which ended up taking up several hours of my life. Obviously, I need more hobbies.
Sunday, December 01, 2013
Not to Be Indelicate, But...
I am absolutely about to be indelicate. Take the children into the other room and put on a nice Hallmark Hall of Fame Movie. Wash your hands a couple of times. Maybe have a body shower; why not?
There appears to be a phantom pooper among the castmates for my amateur theatrical. We received a nasty email from the building management telling us that someone had pooped ON THE FLOOR in the second floor bathroom and failed to either clean it up or report it. Honestly, I had discerned a horrible smell in there, but frankly found that to be not that remarkable, and obviously never dreamed that something of this type had happened.
Anyway, the question remains: who? Also: why? And then: in God's name, why?
I'm tempted to do a little detective work on this, but am terrified by what I might uncover. What if it's a fetish thing? What if there's a cult of floor poopers out there? What if it's like the end of Fight Club and it turns out the floor pooper is just an alternate personality I invented for myself? What if I actually have to deal with poop?
Measures must be taken to ensure this never occurs again. I'm suggesting a starvation diet for the entire cast until our run has ended. That way we'd all have sick abs, too.
I am absolutely about to be indelicate. Take the children into the other room and put on a nice Hallmark Hall of Fame Movie. Wash your hands a couple of times. Maybe have a body shower; why not?
There appears to be a phantom pooper among the castmates for my amateur theatrical. We received a nasty email from the building management telling us that someone had pooped ON THE FLOOR in the second floor bathroom and failed to either clean it up or report it. Honestly, I had discerned a horrible smell in there, but frankly found that to be not that remarkable, and obviously never dreamed that something of this type had happened.
Anyway, the question remains: who? Also: why? And then: in God's name, why?
I'm tempted to do a little detective work on this, but am terrified by what I might uncover. What if it's a fetish thing? What if there's a cult of floor poopers out there? What if it's like the end of Fight Club and it turns out the floor pooper is just an alternate personality I invented for myself? What if I actually have to deal with poop?
Measures must be taken to ensure this never occurs again. I'm suggesting a starvation diet for the entire cast until our run has ended. That way we'd all have sick abs, too.
