The Octomom has finally received her wish and been given her own television show from the producers of Beauty and the Geek. You know, I would expect more from a production company that has made its name by shattering the stereotype that nerds and beautiful have nothing in common. Ok, so what if the show actually proves that that is the case at least their cold, cynical heart was in the right place.
Don’t really have many stories from this weekend as I kind of took the entire weekend off to watch old Mystery Science Theater 3000 episodes. Well, that wasn’t all that I did but it was one of the highlights. As many people know my life has been a mess of airports and delayed flights recently and a weekend spent in my own apartment was a lovely reprieve even if it was one spent cleaning and doing laundry.
(Seriously, there is nothing more annoying in my mind than sitting around doing laundry. Not that I find it challenging. Just that it means that my entire schedule is tied to a machine that I can’t control. If I’m doing laundry (and when I do I try to get it all done at once) then I know that there is nothing else that I can do (at least outside of the apartment.) It is like grocery shopping. There is no way to muti-task when grocery shopping.)
(By the way, I was behind two women at the supermarket who must have purchased three hundred dollars worth of groceries in cash. That isn’t too unusual you might say. Except that they were paying in tens and fives and singles. I’ve never seen that before. ATM twenties certainly but not what appeared to be every bill that you have in your house.)
I guess some weekends are just like this. You might go out a bit and do a few things but mainly all you want to do is sit on your couch. Maybe I am just getting old. Or I am so happy with the way my life is at the moment I don’t have any grand desire to do much that is different. Just take a second to catch my breath and enjoy the moment. Probably a little of both.
Bigger post tomorrow. I’ll be wittier then.
Best of 120 Minutes: It’s been twelve years since we lost Jeff Buckley. Still one of my favorite artists of all time.
The five random CDs for the week:
1) Loreena McKennitt “To Drive the Cold Winter Away”
2) Sheryl Crow “Tuesday Night Music Club”
3) The Smithereens “11”
4) Coldplay “Live 2003”
5) The Tragically Hip “Trouble at the Henhouse”
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Saturday, May 30, 2009
80's Weeked Rewind: # 1
So I am relaunching the 80’s Weekend Rewind series as we once again focus on a video that defines that era of popular music. This week’s entry: Herbie Hancock’s “Rockit”
As most people know pretty much everything that I learned growing up came from MTV. It is how I discovered what vegemite was, discovered that dance offs were typically used to settle urban conflicts and that robots were super cool. I’m pretty sure that everyone my age who is into robotics (and this is from a guy who has not only improved the AI of his Roomba but added spinning blades of death just to make things more interesting) can point to this video as the source of their love for the field. There is just something awesome about a house filled with robots that serve no apparent purpose.
However, the more interesting part about this video (and song) is the rumor that I knew growing up that this song was so dirty they would not allow the lyrics to be played on MTV. I swore that this was true growing up. The only explanation as to why there was just music and a few highly garbled words was that the song was so blatantly about sex that they had to ban it outright. The idea that there could be a song without words was completely foreign to me.
That said, why are so many of the robots wearing lingerie? What is that one in the bed actually doing? And for the love of God, why is one getting its head smashed into a bowl of breakfast cereal? No one has ever successfully answered any of those questions for me. All I know is this. I so totally have to build a set of those dancing robot legs.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
For second place, you get a dictionary
7:58 P.M.: And we are coming to you live from the grammar wing of the Battling the Current headquarters for the 2009 Scripps National Spelling Bee. Let’s get ready to spellble!
7:59 P.M.: The rules are simple. I am going to watch ABC’s live coverage of the finals of the Spelling Bee and make snide comments as it goes along.
8:00 P.M.: Let’s bring on the finalists! What the hell, one of them has a moustache? I’m 35 and I can’t even grow a moustache. Illinois well represented amongst the finalsists.
8:05 P.M.: Serena, who quilts, takes pictures and paints, seems to have been born a 45 year old woman with several cats. She also throws books around when she gets upset. What a surprise that she is home schooled. She gets a word right that I don’t think I’ve ever heard of.
8:14 P.M.: Here is what is worrying me. They are now showing their second vignette on one of the finalists. A vignette that was obviously filmed weeks ahead of time and carefully edited. Now obviously they did not do this for every single contestant in the competition. This means that someone somewhere has ranked ahead of time ten year old spellers. Imagine being given that assignment.
8:17 P.M.: Hey, a girl from Olathe! As long as there are no words dealing with evolution she should go far.
8:19 P.M.: There is a new Eddie Murphy movie coming out. Remind me, are we still in the era of every movie Eddie Murphy makes is a pile of suck or are we at career renaissance number seven for him?
8:24 P.M.: Oh, and we have our first knock out of the night on a word with two r’s in a row. Thus the hopes of the people of Nevada goes down in flames. Erin Andrews (the pride of the University of Florida) is in the backstage area to provide the same level of expert commentary as she brings to all sporting events. Which is, primarily, very good hair.
8:29 P.M.: My personal fave, Tim Ruiter (because he has the same glasses and bad hair that I did as a kid) nails his word and we are through the first round. Ten nerds remain.
8:30 P.M.: For those wondering, I never officially entered either the spelling bee or the geography bee as a kid. I never knew how to participate and I would probably have done better on the geography side than the spelling side. I did however, win a congressional district wide history quiz that was actually pretty intense and led to my meeting my congressman and winning 100 bucks. First time that trivia proved profitable for me.
8:38 P.M.: Oh and Serena is knocked out. Surprising in that there are no tears from her. Strength from the future cat lady.
8:39 P.M.: Kyle from Peoria, in his bright neon green shirt, still doesn’t appear to have woken up. It is either confidence or it is past his bedtime.
8:48 P.M.: The girl from Olathe is inspired by a former Spelling Bee winner. On the list of people that I looked up to in life, spelling bee winners are not on my list. And I am as geeky as they come. Ooh, and I finally got a word: blancmange. Mainly from a Monty Python sketch.
8:52 P.M.: Many contestants have the habit of writing either on their hand or their card to try to get the word right. This wouldn’t be me as I would be the one looking up in the air instead. And we have lost our favorite as last year’s runner up Super Siddhart has been knocked out of the competition. He’s now forced to a future of medical school.
8:55 P.M.: And the bloodbath continues as another contestant gets knocked out. She has the presence of mind to say ding as the bell rings so that is cool. There are some people who think it might be cruel of me to make fun of 13 year olds in this competition. However, that doesn’t come close to being told that you are an idiot by having a bell rung.
8:58 P.M.: My boy Tim is up with his favorite band listed as They Might Be Giants. What a freaking surprise. He nails the word and we have seven spellers, four girls and three boys.
9:09 P.M.: At some point I would ask for a definition of the definition. Either that or ask if the judge could spell it for me. By the way, has anyone tried the Kentucky Grilled Chicken yet? I’m curious as to how it tastes. I know that I just made a bizarre segue there but what would you do if you’ve been watching kids spell for the past seventy minutes.
9:15 P.M.: Jeez, not only do the losing kids have to remain on stage so do their families. In my day if I lost in a contest my dad would immediately start the car and we certainly weren’t going to stop at McDonald’s on the way home.
9:16 P.M.: My boy Tim’s favorite food is dark chocolate. I’m not sure if that is technically a food. More like an ingredient. Still he rocks out and is our sole remaining home schooled kid left so I have to root for him because it’s not like he has any classmates cheering him on.
9:35 P.M.: We still have seven kids left. I am beginning to wonder just how late this can go. Also, the kids have been slightly normal. Well, at least from my point of view. I had more eccentricities as a kid in these types of contests (and a desire to win that was frightening.) It is what happens when academics is your field of competition.
9:42 P.M.: We finally knock out another contestant and have our first mention of a schwa sound. I was taught the importance of a schwa sound as a child and have lived the rest of my life without ever having to use it. And we have our second cheese word in about ten minutes. So the best way to win the contest is to be a cheesemonger’s son.
9:46 P.M.: And Kennyi, who was providing the comic relief tonight, got eliminated on a word about a type of pancake that was derived via about three quarters of eastern Europe. He really did a hell of a job and already got to spend time with Erin Andrews. I also like the fact that when he heard the word spelled correctly he went, “I still don’t know it.” That was my favorite way to lose at trivia. I never felt bad at missing a question where after hearing the answer I still didn’t have a clue.
9:52 P.M.: We are down to the final four with my boy Tim still in it having correctly spelled jacqueminot, a word that I also correctly spelled. My vague knowledge of French occasionally comes in handy. Actually it never comes in handy. Anyone ever wonder why you are taught so many subjects that you never use again? Did I really need to know what the word umbrella was in French?
9:57 P.M.: Just once I want to hear the language of origin be “Klingon.” Oh, and Kyle gets knocked out on a rather difficult word and he still doesn’t show any emotion. To be honest I don’t think that he has cared this entire competition.
10:02 P.M.: Down to the final three and the championship round. Twenty five words to a finish and we have now reached the point where even I don’t have a clue what any of the words mean. We have a girl from Springfield, a girl from Olathe, and a home school kid who looked like me if I stayed away from school in an attempt to protect myself from wedgies. And Grey’s Anatomy will still be shown in its entirety at the end of the broadcast. Yes, the spelling bee is running long.
10:05 P.M.: Hey the winner gets a copy of Encyclopedia Brittanica. Not like that is necessary during the time of Wikipedia. Also, the two girls left went to pre-school together. Somehow I have a feeling they weren’t the two eating the paste.
10:11 P.M.: By the way, anyone want to road trip to Baltimore this weekend? They are hosting the World Series of Flip Cup and I need to get a team together. I may no longer be able to compete in spelling bees because of my drinking but I can still compete in drinking because of my drinking. And we just lost another contestant. Down to the final two.
10:13 P.M.: Olathe girl gets it right and now my boy Tim has to get this right to stay in it. And he blows it and the crown goes to Olathe! Except it doesn’t in a rule that doesn’t quite make sense to me. She has to spell this next word right to win. Laodicean for the win…and she gets it! And now, like all talented people from Kansas, she will soon move to another part of the country.
That’s it for tonight. Check back over the weekend as I am bringing back the 80’s Weekend Rewind. Because nothing is better than nostalgia when the present isn’t meeting your expectations.
7:59 P.M.: The rules are simple. I am going to watch ABC’s live coverage of the finals of the Spelling Bee and make snide comments as it goes along.
8:00 P.M.: Let’s bring on the finalists! What the hell, one of them has a moustache? I’m 35 and I can’t even grow a moustache. Illinois well represented amongst the finalsists.
8:05 P.M.: Serena, who quilts, takes pictures and paints, seems to have been born a 45 year old woman with several cats. She also throws books around when she gets upset. What a surprise that she is home schooled. She gets a word right that I don’t think I’ve ever heard of.
8:14 P.M.: Here is what is worrying me. They are now showing their second vignette on one of the finalists. A vignette that was obviously filmed weeks ahead of time and carefully edited. Now obviously they did not do this for every single contestant in the competition. This means that someone somewhere has ranked ahead of time ten year old spellers. Imagine being given that assignment.
8:17 P.M.: Hey, a girl from Olathe! As long as there are no words dealing with evolution she should go far.
8:19 P.M.: There is a new Eddie Murphy movie coming out. Remind me, are we still in the era of every movie Eddie Murphy makes is a pile of suck or are we at career renaissance number seven for him?
8:24 P.M.: Oh, and we have our first knock out of the night on a word with two r’s in a row. Thus the hopes of the people of Nevada goes down in flames. Erin Andrews (the pride of the University of Florida) is in the backstage area to provide the same level of expert commentary as she brings to all sporting events. Which is, primarily, very good hair.
8:29 P.M.: My personal fave, Tim Ruiter (because he has the same glasses and bad hair that I did as a kid) nails his word and we are through the first round. Ten nerds remain.
8:30 P.M.: For those wondering, I never officially entered either the spelling bee or the geography bee as a kid. I never knew how to participate and I would probably have done better on the geography side than the spelling side. I did however, win a congressional district wide history quiz that was actually pretty intense and led to my meeting my congressman and winning 100 bucks. First time that trivia proved profitable for me.
8:38 P.M.: Oh and Serena is knocked out. Surprising in that there are no tears from her. Strength from the future cat lady.
8:39 P.M.: Kyle from Peoria, in his bright neon green shirt, still doesn’t appear to have woken up. It is either confidence or it is past his bedtime.
8:48 P.M.: The girl from Olathe is inspired by a former Spelling Bee winner. On the list of people that I looked up to in life, spelling bee winners are not on my list. And I am as geeky as they come. Ooh, and I finally got a word: blancmange. Mainly from a Monty Python sketch.
8:52 P.M.: Many contestants have the habit of writing either on their hand or their card to try to get the word right. This wouldn’t be me as I would be the one looking up in the air instead. And we have lost our favorite as last year’s runner up Super Siddhart has been knocked out of the competition. He’s now forced to a future of medical school.
8:55 P.M.: And the bloodbath continues as another contestant gets knocked out. She has the presence of mind to say ding as the bell rings so that is cool. There are some people who think it might be cruel of me to make fun of 13 year olds in this competition. However, that doesn’t come close to being told that you are an idiot by having a bell rung.
8:58 P.M.: My boy Tim is up with his favorite band listed as They Might Be Giants. What a freaking surprise. He nails the word and we have seven spellers, four girls and three boys.
9:09 P.M.: At some point I would ask for a definition of the definition. Either that or ask if the judge could spell it for me. By the way, has anyone tried the Kentucky Grilled Chicken yet? I’m curious as to how it tastes. I know that I just made a bizarre segue there but what would you do if you’ve been watching kids spell for the past seventy minutes.
9:15 P.M.: Jeez, not only do the losing kids have to remain on stage so do their families. In my day if I lost in a contest my dad would immediately start the car and we certainly weren’t going to stop at McDonald’s on the way home.
9:16 P.M.: My boy Tim’s favorite food is dark chocolate. I’m not sure if that is technically a food. More like an ingredient. Still he rocks out and is our sole remaining home schooled kid left so I have to root for him because it’s not like he has any classmates cheering him on.
9:35 P.M.: We still have seven kids left. I am beginning to wonder just how late this can go. Also, the kids have been slightly normal. Well, at least from my point of view. I had more eccentricities as a kid in these types of contests (and a desire to win that was frightening.) It is what happens when academics is your field of competition.
9:42 P.M.: We finally knock out another contestant and have our first mention of a schwa sound. I was taught the importance of a schwa sound as a child and have lived the rest of my life without ever having to use it. And we have our second cheese word in about ten minutes. So the best way to win the contest is to be a cheesemonger’s son.
9:46 P.M.: And Kennyi, who was providing the comic relief tonight, got eliminated on a word about a type of pancake that was derived via about three quarters of eastern Europe. He really did a hell of a job and already got to spend time with Erin Andrews. I also like the fact that when he heard the word spelled correctly he went, “I still don’t know it.” That was my favorite way to lose at trivia. I never felt bad at missing a question where after hearing the answer I still didn’t have a clue.
9:52 P.M.: We are down to the final four with my boy Tim still in it having correctly spelled jacqueminot, a word that I also correctly spelled. My vague knowledge of French occasionally comes in handy. Actually it never comes in handy. Anyone ever wonder why you are taught so many subjects that you never use again? Did I really need to know what the word umbrella was in French?
9:57 P.M.: Just once I want to hear the language of origin be “Klingon.” Oh, and Kyle gets knocked out on a rather difficult word and he still doesn’t show any emotion. To be honest I don’t think that he has cared this entire competition.
10:02 P.M.: Down to the final three and the championship round. Twenty five words to a finish and we have now reached the point where even I don’t have a clue what any of the words mean. We have a girl from Springfield, a girl from Olathe, and a home school kid who looked like me if I stayed away from school in an attempt to protect myself from wedgies. And Grey’s Anatomy will still be shown in its entirety at the end of the broadcast. Yes, the spelling bee is running long.
10:05 P.M.: Hey the winner gets a copy of Encyclopedia Brittanica. Not like that is necessary during the time of Wikipedia. Also, the two girls left went to pre-school together. Somehow I have a feeling they weren’t the two eating the paste.
10:11 P.M.: By the way, anyone want to road trip to Baltimore this weekend? They are hosting the World Series of Flip Cup and I need to get a team together. I may no longer be able to compete in spelling bees because of my drinking but I can still compete in drinking because of my drinking. And we just lost another contestant. Down to the final two.
10:13 P.M.: Olathe girl gets it right and now my boy Tim has to get this right to stay in it. And he blows it and the crown goes to Olathe! Except it doesn’t in a rule that doesn’t quite make sense to me. She has to spell this next word right to win. Laodicean for the win…and she gets it! And now, like all talented people from Kansas, she will soon move to another part of the country.
That’s it for tonight. Check back over the weekend as I am bringing back the 80’s Weekend Rewind. Because nothing is better than nostalgia when the present isn’t meeting your expectations.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Knowledge is sometimes useful
Here is your interesting fact for the day. The starting point for outer space is roughly 65 miles so if you just drove your car vertically for an hour you would technically be an astronaut. Makes the whole process of getting there seem rather quaint and easy. The distance isn’t nearly as astronomical as one might think.
I am glad that we spent the time and effort to repair the Hubble (a rather amazing machine that has been in space for 19 years now and bad lenses be damned that shows how good of a design it was.) I am less pleased that we are still wasting our time on the International Space Station, which is just a complete boondoggle and this is coming from a NASA geek. There is just nothing good coming from the project except a lot of wasted money. No interesting science and nothing that really stirs people’s souls. Sure, there have been some wonderful pictures taken and the story of the astronauts on the station during the Columbia disaster (who were then stranded in space for an indefinite amount of time) is amazing but no one really knows about it. All of this makes me wish we were spending the money on the space program more wisely. Hell, I even wish that we would spend less of it. Just give me my rovers and space probes.
Your slightly less than interesting fun fact for the day: Nearly ten million people tuned in to watch Jon and Kate Plus 8 on Monday. You could use that information as a basis for a thesis on the status of our society. Because, let’s face it, that is a pretty good indication of the number of people who would willingly tune in to watch a car wreck. (Actually, I could look at the Nascar ratings to determine that figure but stay with me.) No one was watching that show to see a number of adorable children running around celebrating their birthday. We all wanted to watch their marriage implode and hopefully catch some footage of plates being thrown.
The thing is the more you read about the whole situation the more you realize just how fake everything is. The house, the trips, the products used, the conversations are all essentially planned in advance by the producers. It is roughly as real as professional wrestling. That makes it kind of sickening when you realize that there are small children involved. Even worse is the fact that Jon and Kate make such a big deal about how horrible it is that the press is following them and treating them as if they are celebrities. Well, when you whore out your children in front of national television cameras you have to accept a loss of privacy. It is a strange new facet of fame. People who are famous for solely being famous are now increasingly upset when they get attention outside of their carefully crafted image. The falsely famous can not stand real fame. It is rather fascinating.
Coming tomorrow: The Scripps National Spelling Bee live blog! Nations of origins! Alternative pronunciations! Making fun of home schooled kids! It’s my favorite night of the year. Don’t miss it.
Wednesday Night Music Club: We all need more Paul Westerberg in our lives.
I am glad that we spent the time and effort to repair the Hubble (a rather amazing machine that has been in space for 19 years now and bad lenses be damned that shows how good of a design it was.) I am less pleased that we are still wasting our time on the International Space Station, which is just a complete boondoggle and this is coming from a NASA geek. There is just nothing good coming from the project except a lot of wasted money. No interesting science and nothing that really stirs people’s souls. Sure, there have been some wonderful pictures taken and the story of the astronauts on the station during the Columbia disaster (who were then stranded in space for an indefinite amount of time) is amazing but no one really knows about it. All of this makes me wish we were spending the money on the space program more wisely. Hell, I even wish that we would spend less of it. Just give me my rovers and space probes.
Your slightly less than interesting fun fact for the day: Nearly ten million people tuned in to watch Jon and Kate Plus 8 on Monday. You could use that information as a basis for a thesis on the status of our society. Because, let’s face it, that is a pretty good indication of the number of people who would willingly tune in to watch a car wreck. (Actually, I could look at the Nascar ratings to determine that figure but stay with me.) No one was watching that show to see a number of adorable children running around celebrating their birthday. We all wanted to watch their marriage implode and hopefully catch some footage of plates being thrown.
The thing is the more you read about the whole situation the more you realize just how fake everything is. The house, the trips, the products used, the conversations are all essentially planned in advance by the producers. It is roughly as real as professional wrestling. That makes it kind of sickening when you realize that there are small children involved. Even worse is the fact that Jon and Kate make such a big deal about how horrible it is that the press is following them and treating them as if they are celebrities. Well, when you whore out your children in front of national television cameras you have to accept a loss of privacy. It is a strange new facet of fame. People who are famous for solely being famous are now increasingly upset when they get attention outside of their carefully crafted image. The falsely famous can not stand real fame. It is rather fascinating.
Coming tomorrow: The Scripps National Spelling Bee live blog! Nations of origins! Alternative pronunciations! Making fun of home schooled kids! It’s my favorite night of the year. Don’t miss it.
Wednesday Night Music Club: We all need more Paul Westerberg in our lives.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
And now, a word from our writer
And I’m back after a short but well needed break. Apologies for not giving a head’s up about how long I would be away from the blog but my plans for this weekend were changing constantly and I never knew when or if I would be near a computer or whether I would be in my best interest to write if I was. Sometimes the best move I can make is not to write.
Also, I just feel like explaining something about the nature of the blog and some of my posts recently. As I’ve mentioned on numerous occasions there are only two subjects that I consider to be taboo: my job and my relationships (except in those cases where my failure in said relationships is extremely funny. I don’t write about my job because I like remaining employed and I have found that most major corporations are lacking in a sense of humor. I don’t write about relationships because I really try to draw a line between EC (who writes the blog) and Chris (who is who I really am.) My personal life does not need to be shared with my fans in Brunei though I am very grateful for their readership.
Now back in the Kansas City days this wasn’t much of a struggle. Taking out work and relationships reduced my possible topics by about 2% and left me with plenty of time to make fun of Kansas, stalk Lindsay Lohan and watch television. But now that I have moved and have a job and a steady relationship what I want to write about and what I can write about have become two very different things. Not that I am complaining in the least. My life is precisely where I want it to be. It is just that when I sit down late at night to write sometimes I have to struggle a little more than in the past to come up with an acceptable topic and I have a feeling that it shows in the writing. It might take a little time but I will find a happy medium soon enough.
It is strange when you think about the struggling artist, which sounds like a cliché but shows up so often in the historical record that you have to wonder about the validity. Writers tend to be drunken, depressive louts or suffering from so many neurosis you wonder if they actually can get out of bed in the morning. Dorothy Parker is one of my favorite writers of all time and she was as messed up as they come. It just seems to be part of the job. You don’t seem to find writers who are happy, well adjusted and creating incredible, mind altering art.
I’m not sure why that is or why I tend to believe in it. I in no way consider what I do to be anywhere close to art but I just have more creativity when I have more angst. When the world actually is rainbows and unicorns there really isn’t much of a desire to sit down at a laptop and write for a few hours. Real life takes precedence.
Want to end with a Wilco song in honor of Jay Bennett who passed away over the weekend. He’ll be missed.
Also, I just feel like explaining something about the nature of the blog and some of my posts recently. As I’ve mentioned on numerous occasions there are only two subjects that I consider to be taboo: my job and my relationships (except in those cases where my failure in said relationships is extremely funny. I don’t write about my job because I like remaining employed and I have found that most major corporations are lacking in a sense of humor. I don’t write about relationships because I really try to draw a line between EC (who writes the blog) and Chris (who is who I really am.) My personal life does not need to be shared with my fans in Brunei though I am very grateful for their readership.
Now back in the Kansas City days this wasn’t much of a struggle. Taking out work and relationships reduced my possible topics by about 2% and left me with plenty of time to make fun of Kansas, stalk Lindsay Lohan and watch television. But now that I have moved and have a job and a steady relationship what I want to write about and what I can write about have become two very different things. Not that I am complaining in the least. My life is precisely where I want it to be. It is just that when I sit down late at night to write sometimes I have to struggle a little more than in the past to come up with an acceptable topic and I have a feeling that it shows in the writing. It might take a little time but I will find a happy medium soon enough.
It is strange when you think about the struggling artist, which sounds like a cliché but shows up so often in the historical record that you have to wonder about the validity. Writers tend to be drunken, depressive louts or suffering from so many neurosis you wonder if they actually can get out of bed in the morning. Dorothy Parker is one of my favorite writers of all time and she was as messed up as they come. It just seems to be part of the job. You don’t seem to find writers who are happy, well adjusted and creating incredible, mind altering art.
I’m not sure why that is or why I tend to believe in it. I in no way consider what I do to be anywhere close to art but I just have more creativity when I have more angst. When the world actually is rainbows and unicorns there really isn’t much of a desire to sit down at a laptop and write for a few hours. Real life takes precedence.
Want to end with a Wilco song in honor of Jay Bennett who passed away over the weekend. He’ll be missed.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Kids these days...
(Woo hoo! It’s 5:20! When we, uh…sit around the campfire and eat smores?)
Anyway, as I continue to ponder my slow descent into old age I thought that it would be interesting to list some of the things that were a part of my life growing up but that a high school or college student today would have no clue about. Here it goes.
· Floppy disks: And I’m not talking those 3.5 discs either. We are talking about the 5.25 discs that could actually bend. The ones that held all of about three pages worth of data on them and that you would punch a hole through to make double sided.
· Rotary phones: I wonder if you could even find one of these anymore. I don’t even think most voice mail systems ask if you are on a touch tone phone.
· Long distance being expensive: The first girl I ever fell for lived several states away from me (what a surprise, I know.) This caused a rather significant issue in the early nineties as calling someone long distance was not for the faint of heart. You could rack up a pretty major bill in no time flat. Now I would just use my nightly minutes on my cell or IM. Just not the same.
· An actual handwritten letter: Do you know that I actually wrote girls letters back in the day? Pen and paper letters and they wrote me back? Those really must be the last of their kind. No one would sit down and write by hand anymore. Kind of a shame really.
· Typewriters: Actually, I don’t miss the dread of trying to type out a form and failing miserably because the paper was never aligned and the spacing was always off.
· Mix tapes: Ok, the concept of the mix tape has survived and thrived. Now you have mix CDs or special playlists for your beloved’s iPod. But it is not the same as having to sit down with a stack of CDs, a cassette tape and painstakingly measure out track lengths so as not to have the tape end in the middle of a song. It was a job to make one of those.
· Wide World of Sports: An entire generation has grown up without the dulcet tones of Jim McKay or the wonder that is watching bobsledding from Austria on a random Saturday. Plus nothing could beat the annual Harlem Globetrotter appearance. Losing this show is one of the ways that ESPN has ruined sports.
· Card Based Sports Games: Ok, this might just be me but let me explain. Part of my love for sports comes from the immense library of sports board games that I had as a kid. Mainly Avalon Hill but a few Strat-O-Matic games as well. These games had cards for every single player and rules that could be either simple or so incredibly complicated that even a young EC couldn’t figure them out (I still have no clue how stamina was supposed to come into play in Status Pro Basketball). In the days before computer games this is what I spent my afternoons playing. I ran games, kept detailed stats and memorized entire rosters. I’m sorry but playing Madden just isn’t the same.
· Life without cable: I grew up in the time before cable. Even when we did get cable we did not have it in any room other than the living room until college. I really wonder how kids cope with having everything they could ever want at their fingertips. How do you keep an imagination in such a world? What is the equivalent to staying up late at night to watch a British show on PBS just for the possibility that it might be interesting (or show a boob?)
Wednesday Night Music Club: Let’s rock it out with LCD Soundsystem.
Anyway, as I continue to ponder my slow descent into old age I thought that it would be interesting to list some of the things that were a part of my life growing up but that a high school or college student today would have no clue about. Here it goes.
· Floppy disks: And I’m not talking those 3.5 discs either. We are talking about the 5.25 discs that could actually bend. The ones that held all of about three pages worth of data on them and that you would punch a hole through to make double sided.
· Rotary phones: I wonder if you could even find one of these anymore. I don’t even think most voice mail systems ask if you are on a touch tone phone.
· Long distance being expensive: The first girl I ever fell for lived several states away from me (what a surprise, I know.) This caused a rather significant issue in the early nineties as calling someone long distance was not for the faint of heart. You could rack up a pretty major bill in no time flat. Now I would just use my nightly minutes on my cell or IM. Just not the same.
· An actual handwritten letter: Do you know that I actually wrote girls letters back in the day? Pen and paper letters and they wrote me back? Those really must be the last of their kind. No one would sit down and write by hand anymore. Kind of a shame really.
· Typewriters: Actually, I don’t miss the dread of trying to type out a form and failing miserably because the paper was never aligned and the spacing was always off.
· Mix tapes: Ok, the concept of the mix tape has survived and thrived. Now you have mix CDs or special playlists for your beloved’s iPod. But it is not the same as having to sit down with a stack of CDs, a cassette tape and painstakingly measure out track lengths so as not to have the tape end in the middle of a song. It was a job to make one of those.
· Wide World of Sports: An entire generation has grown up without the dulcet tones of Jim McKay or the wonder that is watching bobsledding from Austria on a random Saturday. Plus nothing could beat the annual Harlem Globetrotter appearance. Losing this show is one of the ways that ESPN has ruined sports.
· Card Based Sports Games: Ok, this might just be me but let me explain. Part of my love for sports comes from the immense library of sports board games that I had as a kid. Mainly Avalon Hill but a few Strat-O-Matic games as well. These games had cards for every single player and rules that could be either simple or so incredibly complicated that even a young EC couldn’t figure them out (I still have no clue how stamina was supposed to come into play in Status Pro Basketball). In the days before computer games this is what I spent my afternoons playing. I ran games, kept detailed stats and memorized entire rosters. I’m sorry but playing Madden just isn’t the same.
· Life without cable: I grew up in the time before cable. Even when we did get cable we did not have it in any room other than the living room until college. I really wonder how kids cope with having everything they could ever want at their fingertips. How do you keep an imagination in such a world? What is the equivalent to staying up late at night to watch a British show on PBS just for the possibility that it might be interesting (or show a boob?)
Wednesday Night Music Club: Let’s rock it out with LCD Soundsystem.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Yep, I've gotten old
I have realized that now that I have reached a certain age (specifically somewhere in my mid-thirties) a number of activities that I had enjoyed for the majority of my life are no longer available to me. Not in the sense that it is physically impossible for me to perform them. More along the lines that it is not befitting a person of my stature in society to be seen in any of the following situations that I will conveniently list in bullet point form.
· Bring a baseball mitt to a pro game as well as dressing in full replica uniform on the off chance that the team will need a pinch runner and choose the drunk guy in the right field bleachers.
· Similarly, I am no longer allowed to keep score at a baseball game. Mainly because I have to explain why I am doing it when there is a scoreboard right in front of me.
· Wear a t-shirt that announces my occupation as a Female Body Inspector or employs a clever pun using the name Johnson.
· Showing up to a movie wearing any type of costume (can’t believe I was thrown out of the premiere of Hitchhiker’s Guide for wearing a bathrobe).
· Order a drink solely because I think its name sounds funny. Exceptions granted for Red Headed Sluts and Harvey Wallbangers.
· Sit in the front row of a WWE event with a sign that reads “We want the Macho Man!”
· Use the words “romantic dinner date” and “Outback Steakhouse” in the same sentence.
· Participate in a mosh pit and / or crowd surf.
· Shout “woo hoo” at any moment in time.
· Spend three hours arguing the logic behind the time travel paradoxes in Quantum Leap, Star Trek or the entire Terminator franchise (which breaks more laws of temporal space than actually exist.)
· Dye my hair any color that does not naturally occur in nature.
· Go “I could totally jump that”
I know that I am missing a lot. What else do you think I am no longer allowed to do as a result of age?
· Bring a baseball mitt to a pro game as well as dressing in full replica uniform on the off chance that the team will need a pinch runner and choose the drunk guy in the right field bleachers.
· Similarly, I am no longer allowed to keep score at a baseball game. Mainly because I have to explain why I am doing it when there is a scoreboard right in front of me.
· Wear a t-shirt that announces my occupation as a Female Body Inspector or employs a clever pun using the name Johnson.
· Showing up to a movie wearing any type of costume (can’t believe I was thrown out of the premiere of Hitchhiker’s Guide for wearing a bathrobe).
· Order a drink solely because I think its name sounds funny. Exceptions granted for Red Headed Sluts and Harvey Wallbangers.
· Sit in the front row of a WWE event with a sign that reads “We want the Macho Man!”
· Use the words “romantic dinner date” and “Outback Steakhouse” in the same sentence.
· Participate in a mosh pit and / or crowd surf.
· Shout “woo hoo” at any moment in time.
· Spend three hours arguing the logic behind the time travel paradoxes in Quantum Leap, Star Trek or the entire Terminator franchise (which breaks more laws of temporal space than actually exist.)
· Dye my hair any color that does not naturally occur in nature.
· Go “I could totally jump that”
I know that I am missing a lot. What else do you think I am no longer allowed to do as a result of age?
Monday, May 18, 2009
Starting the season
Back when I was a kid late May and the end of the school year was a very odd time of year for me. It wasn’t that I didn’t look forward to summer vacation. At times there was nothing more than I ever wanted than to finally get out of the classroom and just get away from the boredom and busy work. But in a way the classroom was my playing field and now I was going to have three months on my own with no one keeping score and everyone being a stranger until September when we all saw each other again.
I never realized how strange that was until I got older. I had classmates during the year and in the summer they all disappeared. I’m sure most people had best friends and kids in the neighborhood that they hung around with but I never really did. I had my family and that was more than enough people to have around at any one time. And in a way even as a kid I liked being on my own. I could disappear in to a summer filled with books and game shows and a Commodore 64. I never saw any real need to vary from that world.
I guess that was the Catch-22 with school growing up. I don’t know if I can ever say that I really enjoyed it. I certainly was not one of those people for whom high school was the highlight of my existence. In fact, there are probably a few of my teenage years that I have blocked out of my memory banks and for good reason. But it was in a classroom that I really shined. That I was able to show just how talented I was and in my own awkward, often confusing way try to express who I am to the few people who cared.
As much as I struggle with confidence now I am miles beyond what I was then. I’m still not sure why I struggle so much. I really have achieved everything that I have ever wished for and a few things that I haven’t. Yet at the end of the day I still wonder if I am just a bit of a scam artist using a few math tricks to distract people into thinking that I am intelligent. In my heart though I can say that my life is exactly where I want it to be right now and I don’t know if that has ever been the case before.
So summer is a weird season for me. I look forward to the warmth and the light and lazy days that go on forever. I love being able to be outside with a book and a cool breeze and the knowledge that there is nothing to bother me. But I miss it when people go away for a time. I miss the crowd of friends. I miss the structure. Even though I spend all of my time in an office there is still a change that takes place in summer and you can feel it.
I just hope that one day I will be able to recapture those summer days of youth when the season lasted forever. As you grow older time speeds up. When I was ten summer lasted for fifteen years. Now it will be over before I even notice. And right now I just want to take a moment to stop, look around, and realize just how amazing everything is.
I never realized how strange that was until I got older. I had classmates during the year and in the summer they all disappeared. I’m sure most people had best friends and kids in the neighborhood that they hung around with but I never really did. I had my family and that was more than enough people to have around at any one time. And in a way even as a kid I liked being on my own. I could disappear in to a summer filled with books and game shows and a Commodore 64. I never saw any real need to vary from that world.
I guess that was the Catch-22 with school growing up. I don’t know if I can ever say that I really enjoyed it. I certainly was not one of those people for whom high school was the highlight of my existence. In fact, there are probably a few of my teenage years that I have blocked out of my memory banks and for good reason. But it was in a classroom that I really shined. That I was able to show just how talented I was and in my own awkward, often confusing way try to express who I am to the few people who cared.
As much as I struggle with confidence now I am miles beyond what I was then. I’m still not sure why I struggle so much. I really have achieved everything that I have ever wished for and a few things that I haven’t. Yet at the end of the day I still wonder if I am just a bit of a scam artist using a few math tricks to distract people into thinking that I am intelligent. In my heart though I can say that my life is exactly where I want it to be right now and I don’t know if that has ever been the case before.
So summer is a weird season for me. I look forward to the warmth and the light and lazy days that go on forever. I love being able to be outside with a book and a cool breeze and the knowledge that there is nothing to bother me. But I miss it when people go away for a time. I miss the crowd of friends. I miss the structure. Even though I spend all of my time in an office there is still a change that takes place in summer and you can feel it.
I just hope that one day I will be able to recapture those summer days of youth when the season lasted forever. As you grow older time speeds up. When I was ten summer lasted for fifteen years. Now it will be over before I even notice. And right now I just want to take a moment to stop, look around, and realize just how amazing everything is.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Early morning wake up call
Living in the city has its set of issues. Even in a place like Wilmington, best known for being the place your credit card bills go to, you never quite know what will wake your peaceful slumber on a Sunday morning. Such as, I don’t know, a random cannon blast.
In a sign of just how unobservant I can be in life I completely missed the notification that the Delaware marathon was going to start and finish directly outside of my apartment. Now in some ways this is rather cool. If I had decided to run in the marathon I would have been able to sleep in my own bed the night before, have a leisurely breakfast in my own kitchen and walk to the starting line. No worrying about parking or the like. But given that my medical staff has told me that they would hit me in the head with a two by four prior to allowing me to run a marathon those rules did not apply to me.
Instead I was pleasantly asleep at 6:15 in the morning when I began to hear loud music as the runners began to line up. I did not want to wake up that early and in no way felt that Kool and the Gang was what I needed to hear at that hour. I stayed in bed as I listened to the instructions and the national anthem as the race neared its beginning. And to mark the opening of the marathon (which only had about 600 runners) they shot off a freaking cannon.
I’m not making this up. The entire apartment building shook. You could feel the concussive blast against the building. I assume that every single person in the building who wasn’t woken up by the music was roused out of bed by the shelling. This happened twice as both the half marathon and the relay marathon also were started in a rather bombastic fashion.
I was so happy when it started pouring rain on the runners. Serves them right for waking me up.
I have friends who run marathons and I really would like to get in shape and try (though I think I have too much of an injury history to really do it) but if given a choice I don’t think Delaware is the best place to run a marathon. First off, I thought that one of the reasons you run in the big city marathons is the huge crowd so that you have constant encouragement. Here you could be really on your own. Plus, downtown Wilmington is not exactly the most beautiful of locations. I’d want to run the London marathon, which would be just amazing to do and starts and ends at Buckingham Palace. But I can’t see this race being incredibly exciting.
I just hope that next year they decide to be a little quieter at the start.
Best of 120 Minutes: I’m in a bit of a mellow mood at the moment so here is some Cowboy Junkies to start the week.
The five random CDs for the week:
1) Tift Merritt “Bramble Rose”
2) Jack Ingram “Hey You”
3) The Frames “The Roads Outgrown”
4) Maggie Walters “Maggie Walters”
5) Lucinda Williams “Essence”
In a sign of just how unobservant I can be in life I completely missed the notification that the Delaware marathon was going to start and finish directly outside of my apartment. Now in some ways this is rather cool. If I had decided to run in the marathon I would have been able to sleep in my own bed the night before, have a leisurely breakfast in my own kitchen and walk to the starting line. No worrying about parking or the like. But given that my medical staff has told me that they would hit me in the head with a two by four prior to allowing me to run a marathon those rules did not apply to me.
Instead I was pleasantly asleep at 6:15 in the morning when I began to hear loud music as the runners began to line up. I did not want to wake up that early and in no way felt that Kool and the Gang was what I needed to hear at that hour. I stayed in bed as I listened to the instructions and the national anthem as the race neared its beginning. And to mark the opening of the marathon (which only had about 600 runners) they shot off a freaking cannon.
I’m not making this up. The entire apartment building shook. You could feel the concussive blast against the building. I assume that every single person in the building who wasn’t woken up by the music was roused out of bed by the shelling. This happened twice as both the half marathon and the relay marathon also were started in a rather bombastic fashion.
I was so happy when it started pouring rain on the runners. Serves them right for waking me up.
I have friends who run marathons and I really would like to get in shape and try (though I think I have too much of an injury history to really do it) but if given a choice I don’t think Delaware is the best place to run a marathon. First off, I thought that one of the reasons you run in the big city marathons is the huge crowd so that you have constant encouragement. Here you could be really on your own. Plus, downtown Wilmington is not exactly the most beautiful of locations. I’d want to run the London marathon, which would be just amazing to do and starts and ends at Buckingham Palace. But I can’t see this race being incredibly exciting.
I just hope that next year they decide to be a little quieter at the start.
Best of 120 Minutes: I’m in a bit of a mellow mood at the moment so here is some Cowboy Junkies to start the week.
The five random CDs for the week:
1) Tift Merritt “Bramble Rose”
2) Jack Ingram “Hey You”
3) The Frames “The Roads Outgrown”
4) Maggie Walters “Maggie Walters”
5) Lucinda Williams “Essence”
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Such warrantless gossip...
I need to start off by addressing those unfounded rumors that My Beloved Lindsay is preggers. First off, this is complete nonsense as we all know that she is as pure as the driven snow and is saving herself for marriage. Therefore, if by some miracle she actually is with child than this must be considered a virgin birth and we must all act accordingly. I am stocking up on frankincense as we speak just in case.
You might think I am joking but I have read the prophecies. Nostradamus is quite clear on this one…
Though tempted by a sister the parent trap shall bare
Her body and soul amidst the white powder
The rule of Georgia shall mark the finding of who killed me
She should never have dyed her hair blonde
On a totally different note I caught the finale of Hell’s Kitchen tonight and was very glad to see that Danny won. He was clearly the best chef on the show and I am almost tempted to go to Atlantic City to try out his restaurant. I mean, I totally would if it didn’t mean that I would have to go to New Jersey in the process.
Of all the reality shows, Hell’s Kitchen is simultaneously the most fake and the most real. It is totally fake in that Gordon Ramsey’s persona is so over the top and the challenges are created in such a way that it just happens that the women’s team wins when the reward is a spa treatment or a photo shoot while the men’s team win when the reward is go cart racing. Also, every challenge comes down to the wire. There is never a blowout.
The other part that isn’t really fake but shows what is unnecessary is that the show could really be done in only a few episodes. The entire idea behind the show is these chefs are competing to be a head chef at a new restaurant with Ramsey picking the winner. The thing is after episode three he has already picked the two or three people who could possibly win and we then spend the next two months getting rid of everyone else. This isn’t really wrong (Anthony Bourdain would just line all 16 chefs up, say “make me an omelet”, pick a winner and then head to a bar) but it almost takes the drama out of it. We all knew it was going to be between Danny and Paula.
But even with all of that this is the only cooking show that actually gives a sense of what it is really like in a restaurant kitchen. For as much as I love Top Chef it really is a show about making one dish exceptionally well. Hell’s Kitchen is about getting stuck in the weeds as a line chef, dealing with irate customers and an insane head chef, and making it through the night without seriously injuring yourself. Despite all the over the top theatrics that take place on the show that is completely real. It makes for a good mix.
Didn’t post a song last night (was either going to use Timbuk 3 or Vitamin C but thought that was going to be too cheesy.) Instead I will post this song by Lisa Hannigan that I just simply adore. If you want to have a sense of just what my life has been like these past few months just listen to the lyrics.
You might think I am joking but I have read the prophecies. Nostradamus is quite clear on this one…
Though tempted by a sister the parent trap shall bare
Her body and soul amidst the white powder
The rule of Georgia shall mark the finding of who killed me
She should never have dyed her hair blonde
On a totally different note I caught the finale of Hell’s Kitchen tonight and was very glad to see that Danny won. He was clearly the best chef on the show and I am almost tempted to go to Atlantic City to try out his restaurant. I mean, I totally would if it didn’t mean that I would have to go to New Jersey in the process.
Of all the reality shows, Hell’s Kitchen is simultaneously the most fake and the most real. It is totally fake in that Gordon Ramsey’s persona is so over the top and the challenges are created in such a way that it just happens that the women’s team wins when the reward is a spa treatment or a photo shoot while the men’s team win when the reward is go cart racing. Also, every challenge comes down to the wire. There is never a blowout.
The other part that isn’t really fake but shows what is unnecessary is that the show could really be done in only a few episodes. The entire idea behind the show is these chefs are competing to be a head chef at a new restaurant with Ramsey picking the winner. The thing is after episode three he has already picked the two or three people who could possibly win and we then spend the next two months getting rid of everyone else. This isn’t really wrong (Anthony Bourdain would just line all 16 chefs up, say “make me an omelet”, pick a winner and then head to a bar) but it almost takes the drama out of it. We all knew it was going to be between Danny and Paula.
But even with all of that this is the only cooking show that actually gives a sense of what it is really like in a restaurant kitchen. For as much as I love Top Chef it really is a show about making one dish exceptionally well. Hell’s Kitchen is about getting stuck in the weeds as a line chef, dealing with irate customers and an insane head chef, and making it through the night without seriously injuring yourself. Despite all the over the top theatrics that take place on the show that is completely real. It makes for a good mix.
Didn’t post a song last night (was either going to use Timbuk 3 or Vitamin C but thought that was going to be too cheesy.) Instead I will post this song by Lisa Hannigan that I just simply adore. If you want to have a sense of just what my life has been like these past few months just listen to the lyrics.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
My address to the graduates
Good afternoon, graduates, faculty and family members forced to attend what is essentially the reading of a phone book for the next two hours.
By law I am required to start my commencement address with a pithy anecdote that reminds all of you that while you are about to receive a piece of paper that states that you are, in fact, intelligent in reality you have yet to learn anything about life. Here it goes.
A grasshopper walks into a bar. The bartender looks at him and goes, “Hey, do you know we have a drink named after you?” To which the grasshopper replies, “You have a drink named Steve?”
Note that this anecdote discounts such important facts as the vocal capabilities of grasshoppers, the naming convention of long legged insects and a bartender deeming it worthwhile to talk to a patron that has no visible ID or method of paying. Let this be your first post-collegiate lesson. Facts matter much less than the story.
I am also required to inform you of the limitless possibilities that await you. That your entire future is constrained only by your own desires. How the future of our very way of life and of human civilization as we know it will be crafted by your hard work, dedication and insight.
That is, of course, a bunch of crap.
You are all graduating into the worst economy in known existence. Most of you are destined to spending the foreseeable future living on your parent’s couch and updating your Facebook status on the pathetic state of your job search along with funny descriptions of what your cat is currently doing. Those of you who are lucky enough to be starting a new job will find that you will immediately placed in a box, slightly smaller than a prison cell, where the flickering overhead fluorescent lighting and ceaseless meaningless tasks will slowly drain you of your will to live until all you look forward to at the end of the day is going home and watching Two and a Half Men and as we all know that is a fate worse than death. And no matter how hard you try, you will never be more successful than that douchebag three rows in front of you whose dad just happens to own a dozen Kentucky Fried Chicken franchises.
I would like to tell you how bright your future is but let’s face it; nothing will ever top your time in college. The people you will meet in your new life will never be as interesting or intelligent as your classmates. No longer will you be able to schedule your life so that you will never be required to be anywhere before noon. The ownership of a beer bong will quickly go from impressive to disconcerting. Staying up all night will go from being status quo to an occurrence that results in you feeling like crap for week. You are all doomed to growing gray, pudgy and old.
So instead of my wasting my breath talking about a life you will never achieve I wish to provide the following pieces of wisdom that will allow you to make the time between now and the inevitable zombie apocalypse bearable.
Pilfer as many office supplies as is humanly possible. The sooner you realize that a laptop case is the exact same size as a pack of copy paper the better. It’s not like you are ever going to want to bring your laptop home, anyway.
Outsource as many activities as you can. Have someone else do your laundry, grocery shopping, and taxes so that you can focus on the more important things in life. If necessary, websites are available that will allow your dating life to be addressed without you even needing to lift a finger.
Whenever you move to a new town the first thing you need to do is become friends with a bartender. Some people would recommend getting a local doctor first but think about how often you are sick versus how often you are drunk. Easy decision to make.
When in doubt, go to graduate school. Nothing beats putting life on pause for a few years.
If you haven’t sold your textbooks you might as well do it now. Otherwise you will simply move them from place to place for the next twenty years, never opening them and slowly realizing that if you did you wouldn’t have a clue about what they say.
Never, under any circumstances, move to Delaware. Find another state. Denial is a good place to start.
Remember, you will need to either remove the head or destroy the brain. I cannot emphasize that enough.
In closing I would like us all to remember the grasshopper. Even though a tiny insect he was able to grasp that most vital piece of information in the world. That I really need a drink.
By law I am required to start my commencement address with a pithy anecdote that reminds all of you that while you are about to receive a piece of paper that states that you are, in fact, intelligent in reality you have yet to learn anything about life. Here it goes.
A grasshopper walks into a bar. The bartender looks at him and goes, “Hey, do you know we have a drink named after you?” To which the grasshopper replies, “You have a drink named Steve?”
Note that this anecdote discounts such important facts as the vocal capabilities of grasshoppers, the naming convention of long legged insects and a bartender deeming it worthwhile to talk to a patron that has no visible ID or method of paying. Let this be your first post-collegiate lesson. Facts matter much less than the story.
I am also required to inform you of the limitless possibilities that await you. That your entire future is constrained only by your own desires. How the future of our very way of life and of human civilization as we know it will be crafted by your hard work, dedication and insight.
That is, of course, a bunch of crap.
You are all graduating into the worst economy in known existence. Most of you are destined to spending the foreseeable future living on your parent’s couch and updating your Facebook status on the pathetic state of your job search along with funny descriptions of what your cat is currently doing. Those of you who are lucky enough to be starting a new job will find that you will immediately placed in a box, slightly smaller than a prison cell, where the flickering overhead fluorescent lighting and ceaseless meaningless tasks will slowly drain you of your will to live until all you look forward to at the end of the day is going home and watching Two and a Half Men and as we all know that is a fate worse than death. And no matter how hard you try, you will never be more successful than that douchebag three rows in front of you whose dad just happens to own a dozen Kentucky Fried Chicken franchises.
I would like to tell you how bright your future is but let’s face it; nothing will ever top your time in college. The people you will meet in your new life will never be as interesting or intelligent as your classmates. No longer will you be able to schedule your life so that you will never be required to be anywhere before noon. The ownership of a beer bong will quickly go from impressive to disconcerting. Staying up all night will go from being status quo to an occurrence that results in you feeling like crap for week. You are all doomed to growing gray, pudgy and old.
So instead of my wasting my breath talking about a life you will never achieve I wish to provide the following pieces of wisdom that will allow you to make the time between now and the inevitable zombie apocalypse bearable.
Pilfer as many office supplies as is humanly possible. The sooner you realize that a laptop case is the exact same size as a pack of copy paper the better. It’s not like you are ever going to want to bring your laptop home, anyway.
Outsource as many activities as you can. Have someone else do your laundry, grocery shopping, and taxes so that you can focus on the more important things in life. If necessary, websites are available that will allow your dating life to be addressed without you even needing to lift a finger.
Whenever you move to a new town the first thing you need to do is become friends with a bartender. Some people would recommend getting a local doctor first but think about how often you are sick versus how often you are drunk. Easy decision to make.
When in doubt, go to graduate school. Nothing beats putting life on pause for a few years.
If you haven’t sold your textbooks you might as well do it now. Otherwise you will simply move them from place to place for the next twenty years, never opening them and slowly realizing that if you did you wouldn’t have a clue about what they say.
Never, under any circumstances, move to Delaware. Find another state. Denial is a good place to start.
Remember, you will need to either remove the head or destroy the brain. I cannot emphasize that enough.
In closing I would like us all to remember the grasshopper. Even though a tiny insect he was able to grasp that most vital piece of information in the world. That I really need a drink.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
How can you run out of bait on a fishing boat?
My goal of writing an interesting take on the speeches that all graduates are forced to sit through (inspired by the recently released David Foster Wallace speech “This is Water”) will have to be postponed for yet another night. Due to a lack of sleep, lack of creativity and a new episode of Deadliest Catch my mind just wasn’t in the right frame of mind to write what I needed to so hopefully you will have that to look forward to tomorrow.
Instead I’ll just write about television including the strange addiction that is Deadliest Catch. On the surface I’m not sure you could ever think of a more boring show in existence. Let’s show a bunch of guys in a boat throwing steel pot after steel pot over the side and then retrieving the pots and unloading the crab. That is the show, week after week just more footage of guys crab fishing. Yet it is some of the most amazing television you ever see. All of these guys out there on the open ocean in the middle of the Arctic, just suffering like mad and occasionally nearly dying. You really can’t take your eyes off of it. Plus, I now firmly believe that every workplace should be required to have a fifty year old Hungarian who barely speaks English on staff. It just makes the world a more interesting place.
The Big Bang Theory ended its season last night on a rather odd note. They brought back the Penny and Leonard relationship with Penny seeming to fall for Leonard as he goes off with the guys to the North Pole to search for sub-atomic particles. Sounds like a perfectly logical summer vacation to me. (Personally I loved the line “we’ll be able to drink for free at any bar in a college town with a strong science program.”) What this show did portray correctly is the fact that guys like Leonard just cannot take subtlety. We (and I mean that in less than the royal sense) are just unable to read between the lines. Despite the fact that we are brilliant when it comes to relationships we are dumb as a box of hammers that went to school in Arkansas. But we really mean well.
As for How I Met Your Mother at least we can rest assured that Stella is not the mom. However, I am completely confused as to where the series goes from here. Robin isn’t the mom, Stella isn’t the mom, we were just told that Ted is finally on the path to meeting the mom yet there is no one left for it to be. Meaning that there is no logical character that we know about who could potentially be the mother. Though I still hope that the last scene of this season will be a knock on the door and Ted opens it to see Victoria standing in the hallway. That would be a great ending to the season.
(Sorry, I’m just a hopeless romantic at heart and think it would make a great ending to the story.)
I know that part of the story (of the show and of life) is that the journey is what is important. That everything we do until we meet the one is what makes it possible for us to find that certain someone. But it is interesting that we as the viewer are beginning to feel Ted’s frustration. We want to get to the ending or at least a new beginning. But that is kind of the point. Life doesn’t work on our own timelines. Forcing something just makes it go pear shaped. I haven’t learned much in my life (at least in terms of things that don’t involve differential equations) but I’m beginning to realize that at some points you just have to let the universe be. Things will come around much better than if you try to force reality to match your own visions.
Instead I’ll just write about television including the strange addiction that is Deadliest Catch. On the surface I’m not sure you could ever think of a more boring show in existence. Let’s show a bunch of guys in a boat throwing steel pot after steel pot over the side and then retrieving the pots and unloading the crab. That is the show, week after week just more footage of guys crab fishing. Yet it is some of the most amazing television you ever see. All of these guys out there on the open ocean in the middle of the Arctic, just suffering like mad and occasionally nearly dying. You really can’t take your eyes off of it. Plus, I now firmly believe that every workplace should be required to have a fifty year old Hungarian who barely speaks English on staff. It just makes the world a more interesting place.
The Big Bang Theory ended its season last night on a rather odd note. They brought back the Penny and Leonard relationship with Penny seeming to fall for Leonard as he goes off with the guys to the North Pole to search for sub-atomic particles. Sounds like a perfectly logical summer vacation to me. (Personally I loved the line “we’ll be able to drink for free at any bar in a college town with a strong science program.”) What this show did portray correctly is the fact that guys like Leonard just cannot take subtlety. We (and I mean that in less than the royal sense) are just unable to read between the lines. Despite the fact that we are brilliant when it comes to relationships we are dumb as a box of hammers that went to school in Arkansas. But we really mean well.
As for How I Met Your Mother at least we can rest assured that Stella is not the mom. However, I am completely confused as to where the series goes from here. Robin isn’t the mom, Stella isn’t the mom, we were just told that Ted is finally on the path to meeting the mom yet there is no one left for it to be. Meaning that there is no logical character that we know about who could potentially be the mother. Though I still hope that the last scene of this season will be a knock on the door and Ted opens it to see Victoria standing in the hallway. That would be a great ending to the season.
(Sorry, I’m just a hopeless romantic at heart and think it would make a great ending to the story.)
I know that part of the story (of the show and of life) is that the journey is what is important. That everything we do until we meet the one is what makes it possible for us to find that certain someone. But it is interesting that we as the viewer are beginning to feel Ted’s frustration. We want to get to the ending or at least a new beginning. But that is kind of the point. Life doesn’t work on our own timelines. Forcing something just makes it go pear shaped. I haven’t learned much in my life (at least in terms of things that don’t involve differential equations) but I’m beginning to realize that at some points you just have to let the universe be. Things will come around much better than if you try to force reality to match your own visions.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Scenes from a novel in progress
(Author's note: What I originally wrote for tonight just wasn't working and I'm dead tired so I'm going to try the piece again tomorrow night in the hopes that it will come out right the second time around. In its place, here is a quick chapter from my novel in progress.)
Chapter 3: The Allure of Neon
There is a glorious feeling that overcomes you when you pull into a bar parking lot on a Tuesday night. That sense that you are about to undertake a challenge so daunting that most citizens would look upon you with fear and disgust. You have given up all hope of acting like a proper adult and instead are going to wreck havoc on yourself with no regard to the consequences. Turning off the engine you have an illicit smile on your face knowing that what you are about to do is wrong but you just don’t care.
I really wonder how some people live normal lives. They get up every day, go to the office and then just go home and watch mindless sitcoms all night long. They spend their evenings talking about how they plan to retile the bathroom next month or how their cousin Cindy just got back from Orlando. There is nothing real to their entire existence. If you watched their entire life on fast forward you wouldn’t miss a single piece of the plot.
I simply can’t live my life that way. It seems like a total waste. There are too many books to read, bands to hear and experiences to have. True, I chain myself to a cubicle every morning but it isn’t who I am. That is just where I find myself during the day. Who I really am comes out at night. Typically in a bar.
I’m not an alcoholic. They attend meetings and do things like spend evenings alone with a bottle of Jack Daniels. Instead I consider myself to be a drunkard. I’ll hang out in a smoky bar, drinking slightly more than my doctor would recommend, while arguing philosophy with people I have never met. Inside a bar, especially on a Tuesday night, everyone is your friend. We are all joined by the same purpose. We all need liquid sustenance to make the world palatable enough to experience again. No one is here for their monthly night out, there are no bachelorettes celebrating their upcoming happiness, just a group of people who know that the only place where truth can be found has bottles lined up in neat rows.
When I got out of my car I looked at all of the flashing neon in the bar’s windows and remembered Jay Gatsby reaching out for the green light. All of his dreams were out there on the other dock if he could just grasp them. Love, honor, respect; all of it tied to that blinking light. I thought about how many times my dreams had been ripped away from me or had just faded from my view right before I got to them.
I walked in and my beer was waiting for me on the bar before the door had even closed. Gatsby never had it so good.
Chapter 3: The Allure of Neon
There is a glorious feeling that overcomes you when you pull into a bar parking lot on a Tuesday night. That sense that you are about to undertake a challenge so daunting that most citizens would look upon you with fear and disgust. You have given up all hope of acting like a proper adult and instead are going to wreck havoc on yourself with no regard to the consequences. Turning off the engine you have an illicit smile on your face knowing that what you are about to do is wrong but you just don’t care.
I really wonder how some people live normal lives. They get up every day, go to the office and then just go home and watch mindless sitcoms all night long. They spend their evenings talking about how they plan to retile the bathroom next month or how their cousin Cindy just got back from Orlando. There is nothing real to their entire existence. If you watched their entire life on fast forward you wouldn’t miss a single piece of the plot.
I simply can’t live my life that way. It seems like a total waste. There are too many books to read, bands to hear and experiences to have. True, I chain myself to a cubicle every morning but it isn’t who I am. That is just where I find myself during the day. Who I really am comes out at night. Typically in a bar.
I’m not an alcoholic. They attend meetings and do things like spend evenings alone with a bottle of Jack Daniels. Instead I consider myself to be a drunkard. I’ll hang out in a smoky bar, drinking slightly more than my doctor would recommend, while arguing philosophy with people I have never met. Inside a bar, especially on a Tuesday night, everyone is your friend. We are all joined by the same purpose. We all need liquid sustenance to make the world palatable enough to experience again. No one is here for their monthly night out, there are no bachelorettes celebrating their upcoming happiness, just a group of people who know that the only place where truth can be found has bottles lined up in neat rows.
When I got out of my car I looked at all of the flashing neon in the bar’s windows and remembered Jay Gatsby reaching out for the green light. All of his dreams were out there on the other dock if he could just grasp them. Love, honor, respect; all of it tied to that blinking light. I thought about how many times my dreams had been ripped away from me or had just faded from my view right before I got to them.
I walked in and my beer was waiting for me on the bar before the door had even closed. Gatsby never had it so good.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Things you would rather unsee
Note from the darker corner of American life: On my way home from the airport I always end up driving past this one strip club. A club that I have never entered, I wish to make that point abundantly clear, despite the fact that it is rather conveniently located. (That is also something I was completely unaware of when I rented my apartment. You would think they would put it on the brochures or something.) The most impressive thing about this club is the sign outside and what they promote.
Until today I thought nothing could beat the Thanksgiving buffet, a concept I cannot even begin to grasp. It really looks like a place where you would not want to sit down. Heck, I even feel as though driving my car past it at a rather high rate of speed leaves me feeling dirty. Somehow I just can’t imagine that being my best choice for a good meal. Plus, just what mental state do you have to be in to spend Thanksgiving in a strip club?
The sign today wins with a two part message of brilliance. Part One: “Wed. Night: Amature Night.”
Yes, that is precisely how they spelled amateur. I know that proper grammar isn’t really expected at such an establishment but it is greatly appreciated. What makes it worse is that I now don’t know if they meant that on Wednesday there will be amateurs (i.e….ok, I’m not sure what that means. I don’t believe that there is a detailed licensing process for dancers.) or that they really mean that it is “A Mature” night indicating dancers who are slightly more advanced in years. Either way, I have no desire to drive by the parking lot to see what is going on.
In case Wednesday night doesn’t fulfill your wildest fantasy you can come back on Thursday for, and once again I am not making this up, Ladies Night. Now I understand the need for promotion and looking to expand your client base. That is perfectly fair marketing practice. This, on the other hand, seems entirely flawed. Mainly because other than cheaper drinks (and cheap drinks at a strip club are the equivalent of regular priced drinks anywhere else) I can’t see any practical reason why any group of women would want to spend a quiet evening at the strip club. Would you want to be hit upon by one of the regulars? Do you even want to see what the regulars look like? Heck, do you even want to see what happens when you combine the words “Delaware” and “Strip club?” I am much happier to keep that a mystery.
Best of 120 Minutes: I am going back to a time when MTV, Pearl Jam and Unplugged were all cool. Well, one of the three have aged well.
The five random CDs for the week:
1) Richard Buckner “Since”
2) Cowboy Junkies “Miles From Our Home”
3) Martin Zellar and the Hardways “Scattered”
4) Josh Rouse “Country Mouse City House”
5) Bruce Springsteen “Lucky Town”
Until today I thought nothing could beat the Thanksgiving buffet, a concept I cannot even begin to grasp. It really looks like a place where you would not want to sit down. Heck, I even feel as though driving my car past it at a rather high rate of speed leaves me feeling dirty. Somehow I just can’t imagine that being my best choice for a good meal. Plus, just what mental state do you have to be in to spend Thanksgiving in a strip club?
The sign today wins with a two part message of brilliance. Part One: “Wed. Night: Amature Night.”
Yes, that is precisely how they spelled amateur. I know that proper grammar isn’t really expected at such an establishment but it is greatly appreciated. What makes it worse is that I now don’t know if they meant that on Wednesday there will be amateurs (i.e….ok, I’m not sure what that means. I don’t believe that there is a detailed licensing process for dancers.) or that they really mean that it is “A Mature” night indicating dancers who are slightly more advanced in years. Either way, I have no desire to drive by the parking lot to see what is going on.
In case Wednesday night doesn’t fulfill your wildest fantasy you can come back on Thursday for, and once again I am not making this up, Ladies Night. Now I understand the need for promotion and looking to expand your client base. That is perfectly fair marketing practice. This, on the other hand, seems entirely flawed. Mainly because other than cheaper drinks (and cheap drinks at a strip club are the equivalent of regular priced drinks anywhere else) I can’t see any practical reason why any group of women would want to spend a quiet evening at the strip club. Would you want to be hit upon by one of the regulars? Do you even want to see what the regulars look like? Heck, do you even want to see what happens when you combine the words “Delaware” and “Strip club?” I am much happier to keep that a mystery.
Best of 120 Minutes: I am going back to a time when MTV, Pearl Jam and Unplugged were all cool. Well, one of the three have aged well.
The five random CDs for the week:
1) Richard Buckner “Since”
2) Cowboy Junkies “Miles From Our Home”
3) Martin Zellar and the Hardways “Scattered”
4) Josh Rouse “Country Mouse City House”
5) Bruce Springsteen “Lucky Town”
Wednesday, May 06, 2009
The oldest debate
So the Star Trek movie opens this weekend and given that I have spent most of this week talking about Jedis and droids you would expect to find me to already be camping out in front of the theater waiting for the first showing. Well, I’m not and it isn’t just because I now have a girlfriend. Ok, that is the main reason but it isn’t the sole reason.
See, there is a distinct difference between Star Wars and Star Trek fans. It really is a rather sharp divide across all of fandom. You can like both of the series but you can only truly be an uber fan of one of the two. You can’t go to the Star Trek convention dressed like a Ferengi on Saturday and then go to the Star Wars convention dressed like Admiral Ackbar on Sunday. That would just be silly and wrong.
I for one fall on the Star Wars side of the ledger and for good reason. I was just a kid when the original trilogy hit and I was Lucas’ target market for action figures and playsets. There is nothing that Star Trek could do that could compare in my mind. Star Trek had things like plots while Star Wars had Darth Vader and the Death Star playset. Nothing could ever compare to the Death Star playset. Even now I wish I still had one.
But there is a serious difference between the two series and it is one of action and contemplation. It can all be boiled down to how do the two ships fire torpedos. In Star Trek Kirk gives the orders to fire photon torpedos, then someone (possibly an unknown actor in a red shirt) presses a button and a single torpedo is launched. Meanwhile in Star Wars if Luke wants to fire a blast from his X-Wing all he has to do is press a button. In Star Wars the characters are individually controlling their action while in Star Trek it is more of a group dynamic.
That is what leads to my love of Star Wars. It is a classic hero mythology with larger than life characters taking extraordinary risks. Each character is an individual, possibly working as a collective but definitely a distinct unit. It is all high risk and high adventure. Star Trek, on the other hand, is much more realistic. It is actually a pretty good representation of life on a submarine or a battleship. It’s view of conflict is really maritime based and the plots revolve around negotiations and political interplay. In my mind, if I wanted to learn about international relations I would watch something more practical than a typical Star Trek episode. Otherwise I would rather watch someone get their arm chopped off with a lightsaber.
Wednesday Night Music Club: I shot this video in England with my band a few years ago. We were going for this whole early 80’s music video retro vibe with the piece and I think it came across quite well. It felt like a video that was at least twenty five years old. And I even got to do my own stunts and dress up like a pirate.
Sigh, of all the people I could look like in the world the only one I can find is Marshall Crenshaw. Love the music though.
See, there is a distinct difference between Star Wars and Star Trek fans. It really is a rather sharp divide across all of fandom. You can like both of the series but you can only truly be an uber fan of one of the two. You can’t go to the Star Trek convention dressed like a Ferengi on Saturday and then go to the Star Wars convention dressed like Admiral Ackbar on Sunday. That would just be silly and wrong.
I for one fall on the Star Wars side of the ledger and for good reason. I was just a kid when the original trilogy hit and I was Lucas’ target market for action figures and playsets. There is nothing that Star Trek could do that could compare in my mind. Star Trek had things like plots while Star Wars had Darth Vader and the Death Star playset. Nothing could ever compare to the Death Star playset. Even now I wish I still had one.
But there is a serious difference between the two series and it is one of action and contemplation. It can all be boiled down to how do the two ships fire torpedos. In Star Trek Kirk gives the orders to fire photon torpedos, then someone (possibly an unknown actor in a red shirt) presses a button and a single torpedo is launched. Meanwhile in Star Wars if Luke wants to fire a blast from his X-Wing all he has to do is press a button. In Star Wars the characters are individually controlling their action while in Star Trek it is more of a group dynamic.
That is what leads to my love of Star Wars. It is a classic hero mythology with larger than life characters taking extraordinary risks. Each character is an individual, possibly working as a collective but definitely a distinct unit. It is all high risk and high adventure. Star Trek, on the other hand, is much more realistic. It is actually a pretty good representation of life on a submarine or a battleship. It’s view of conflict is really maritime based and the plots revolve around negotiations and political interplay. In my mind, if I wanted to learn about international relations I would watch something more practical than a typical Star Trek episode. Otherwise I would rather watch someone get their arm chopped off with a lightsaber.
Wednesday Night Music Club: I shot this video in England with my band a few years ago. We were going for this whole early 80’s music video retro vibe with the piece and I think it came across quite well. It felt like a video that was at least twenty five years old. And I even got to do my own stunts and dress up like a pirate.
Sigh, of all the people I could look like in the world the only one I can find is Marshall Crenshaw. Love the music though.
Tuesday, May 05, 2009
How I Met...oh, not her again
I don’t quite understand why people celebrate Cinqo de Mayo. It is a completely made up holiday. Everyone knows that in the Jedi faith that yesterday marks the true holy day. Only Life Day holds nearly as much significance. People can be very strange.
One of the interesting things about my commute home is that I get to drive past churches with rather thought provoking signs. Today’s question was “If Jesus was coming tomorrow what would you do today?” To which my immediate response was “I don’t know, hide the porn?” Actually, if I ever become one of those guys wearing a sandwich board and maniacally ringing a bell I swear that my sign will read “Jesus is coming! Quick, everyone hide the porn!”
Yeah, I’m probably going to hell for that one.
The most important news to talk about is what we learned last night on How I Met Your Mother. I’ve been a little lax in my HIMYM updates this year as thanks to DVRs I always feel like I need to put spoiler alerts on everything. Plus, with both Lily and Robin pregnant in real life it has meant that this season has become a case of “let’s see what large objects we can place Lily and Robin behind this time.” At least they have had fun with it with Lily showing off her belly as part of a competitive eating montage and Robin last night having jokes involving pregnancy and giant purses.
But enough on that, let’s go through what each of the male characters encountered.
Marshall had the most enjoyable moments of the episode with his love of charts. Personally I will always enjoy anyone who makes a pie chart of his favorite bars and a bar chart of his favorite pies. And when knowing that people will complain of his never ending use of charts he goes ahead and creates a chart to track their discomfort. As someone who believes that every moment and event in life should be chronicled, quantified and graphed this just furthers my belief that Marshall is the coolest guy ever.
We learned much more about Barney this episode than most people would originally think. While it was always known that he took everything he heard as a kid literally (hence the Bob Barker is his dad story) it never quite factored in to how he became who he is today. In fact, it was never clear as to what set him on the path to being, well, a better dressed version of Mystery. Now we know it was to show up a bragging sixth grader who was lucky enough to have a pet Ewok (lucky bastard). That led him to his two hundred conquests, which is an awful lot when you consider the math and the fact that he always seems to be hanging out in the same bar night after night, and a sense of wondering what is next. Obviously that next step is Robin. The interesting question there is could anyone be in a serious relationship with Barney knowing that he is, you know, Barney. That would make for one hell of a plot point next year.
Finally, in the moments that had me going “Oh my God, oh my God” like I was a twelve year old girl we came all that much closer to finding out who the mother is. After four years we finally see Ted pick up the yellow umbrella, we hear that it is only through random events that he met his true love, we see Ted hug random strangers (including a psychotic looking weather clown who I believe gave a forecast of “there is a forty percent chance of rain today with an eighty percent chance that I will devour your soul”) and we find out that the woman who taps Ted on the shoulder is…
Becky from Roseanne.
Son of a…
See, we know that she can’t be the mom because we have already met her. And in the wedding episode Ted detailed what life would have been liked if they had gotten married and that included two blonde haired kids. Also, there is the side fact that Becky dumped Ted at the altar and I don’t know about you but that would probably be a strike on the whole restarting the relationship thing. So we have two more episodes this year before we find out who the mother is. Unless they decide to wait until next season at which point I will just be heard cursing the television set for a good hour.
Tomorrow I’ll discuss why I tend to find Penny in The Big Bang Theory more attractive when she wears her Cheesecake Factory waitress uniform. Or at least I would like to think there is a reason. It’s either that or discuss the parallels between myself and Sheldon and I would rather not go there.
One of the interesting things about my commute home is that I get to drive past churches with rather thought provoking signs. Today’s question was “If Jesus was coming tomorrow what would you do today?” To which my immediate response was “I don’t know, hide the porn?” Actually, if I ever become one of those guys wearing a sandwich board and maniacally ringing a bell I swear that my sign will read “Jesus is coming! Quick, everyone hide the porn!”
Yeah, I’m probably going to hell for that one.
The most important news to talk about is what we learned last night on How I Met Your Mother. I’ve been a little lax in my HIMYM updates this year as thanks to DVRs I always feel like I need to put spoiler alerts on everything. Plus, with both Lily and Robin pregnant in real life it has meant that this season has become a case of “let’s see what large objects we can place Lily and Robin behind this time.” At least they have had fun with it with Lily showing off her belly as part of a competitive eating montage and Robin last night having jokes involving pregnancy and giant purses.
But enough on that, let’s go through what each of the male characters encountered.
Marshall had the most enjoyable moments of the episode with his love of charts. Personally I will always enjoy anyone who makes a pie chart of his favorite bars and a bar chart of his favorite pies. And when knowing that people will complain of his never ending use of charts he goes ahead and creates a chart to track their discomfort. As someone who believes that every moment and event in life should be chronicled, quantified and graphed this just furthers my belief that Marshall is the coolest guy ever.
We learned much more about Barney this episode than most people would originally think. While it was always known that he took everything he heard as a kid literally (hence the Bob Barker is his dad story) it never quite factored in to how he became who he is today. In fact, it was never clear as to what set him on the path to being, well, a better dressed version of Mystery. Now we know it was to show up a bragging sixth grader who was lucky enough to have a pet Ewok (lucky bastard). That led him to his two hundred conquests, which is an awful lot when you consider the math and the fact that he always seems to be hanging out in the same bar night after night, and a sense of wondering what is next. Obviously that next step is Robin. The interesting question there is could anyone be in a serious relationship with Barney knowing that he is, you know, Barney. That would make for one hell of a plot point next year.
Finally, in the moments that had me going “Oh my God, oh my God” like I was a twelve year old girl we came all that much closer to finding out who the mother is. After four years we finally see Ted pick up the yellow umbrella, we hear that it is only through random events that he met his true love, we see Ted hug random strangers (including a psychotic looking weather clown who I believe gave a forecast of “there is a forty percent chance of rain today with an eighty percent chance that I will devour your soul”) and we find out that the woman who taps Ted on the shoulder is…
Becky from Roseanne.
Son of a…
See, we know that she can’t be the mom because we have already met her. And in the wedding episode Ted detailed what life would have been liked if they had gotten married and that included two blonde haired kids. Also, there is the side fact that Becky dumped Ted at the altar and I don’t know about you but that would probably be a strike on the whole restarting the relationship thing. So we have two more episodes this year before we find out who the mother is. Unless they decide to wait until next season at which point I will just be heard cursing the television set for a good hour.
Tomorrow I’ll discuss why I tend to find Penny in The Big Bang Theory more attractive when she wears her Cheesecake Factory waitress uniform. Or at least I would like to think there is a reason. It’s either that or discuss the parallels between myself and Sheldon and I would rather not go there.
Monday, May 04, 2009
A vexing question
I am shocked and appalled by the fact that my coworkers were not aware that today was Star Wars Day. It is a perfectly rational holiday. Besides, you would think that people had never seen a grown man carrying a replica lightsaber with eight motion activated sound effects before. Doesn’t everyone travel the country visiting sci fi conventions? People should just be happy that I leave my Bib Fortuna costume for more formal occasions.
Staying in the sci fi realm John Hodgman proposes the following question as a strong descriptor of the type of person one is. You can choose between one of the following two superpowers. You can have the ability to become invisible (though any clothes you wear will take your shape, much like the classic Invisible Man (not the Ralph Ellison version), so you technically will need to be naked to truly be invisible) or the ability to fly (say with the speed and ability of a large eagle so no ability to break the sound barrier and/or significantly reduce airline bills). Which one do you choose?
My immediate answer is invisibility. That probably gives an indication of my introverted self. I would just like to have the ability to disappear and be completely unnoticed. That is true but I also feel as though it doesn’t take into account the pure level of mischief that one can achieve by being invisible. Essentially all the places that you would want to go and check out but are afraid to due to the fear of being discovered would suddenly become readily available. You can become the ultimate trickster and/or thief. Not a very effective thief as a painting that just happens to be floating in midair is probably a sign that something is going on but a thief nonetheless.
Flight, on the other hand, always seemed like the wimpiest superpower imaginable. Because outside of being able to fly you can’t really do anything. True, you can get to out of the way places but Giant-Man can do the same thing by growing and he gets super strength in the process. In a comic book sense, flight just gives you the ability to run away easier while invisibility would let you go on Harry Potter adventures (if invisibility was granted via a magical cloak).
Flight would be the extroverted choice. What you are saying is, “Look at me, I can fly!” It is a very public act. It’s not entirely practical (outside of finally being able to travel in a straight line) but it looks very cool. And I have to admit, being able to do barrel rolls and loops would be pretty awesome.
So what say you readers? Flight or invisibility? Choose your destiny.
Staying in the sci fi realm John Hodgman proposes the following question as a strong descriptor of the type of person one is. You can choose between one of the following two superpowers. You can have the ability to become invisible (though any clothes you wear will take your shape, much like the classic Invisible Man (not the Ralph Ellison version), so you technically will need to be naked to truly be invisible) or the ability to fly (say with the speed and ability of a large eagle so no ability to break the sound barrier and/or significantly reduce airline bills). Which one do you choose?
My immediate answer is invisibility. That probably gives an indication of my introverted self. I would just like to have the ability to disappear and be completely unnoticed. That is true but I also feel as though it doesn’t take into account the pure level of mischief that one can achieve by being invisible. Essentially all the places that you would want to go and check out but are afraid to due to the fear of being discovered would suddenly become readily available. You can become the ultimate trickster and/or thief. Not a very effective thief as a painting that just happens to be floating in midair is probably a sign that something is going on but a thief nonetheless.
Flight, on the other hand, always seemed like the wimpiest superpower imaginable. Because outside of being able to fly you can’t really do anything. True, you can get to out of the way places but Giant-Man can do the same thing by growing and he gets super strength in the process. In a comic book sense, flight just gives you the ability to run away easier while invisibility would let you go on Harry Potter adventures (if invisibility was granted via a magical cloak).
Flight would be the extroverted choice. What you are saying is, “Look at me, I can fly!” It is a very public act. It’s not entirely practical (outside of finally being able to travel in a straight line) but it looks very cool. And I have to admit, being able to do barrel rolls and loops would be pretty awesome.
So what say you readers? Flight or invisibility? Choose your destiny.
Sunday, May 03, 2009
There is more to life than just Chewbacca
In honor of Monday being Star Wars Day (May the Fourth be with you) I feel that I should take a moment to honor many of the unsung members of the Star Wars Universe. You may not have known their names but they are what made the series great.
Gonk: One of my favorite characters from the original trilogy. Essentially just a walking power generator (because if I have learned anything through my study of electrical engineering it is that batteries would be much more efficient if they had legs and a moderate level of artificial intelligence) that has become a bit of a cult hero in the online world as there are a group of people, myself included, who are convinced that Gonk represents God in the original trilogy. He is everprescent yet never takes center stage. I’m certain that he is the one behind every major event in the entire series.
Wedge Antilles: My all time favorite character. Not even Boba Fett can match the level of awesome that is Wedge. Wedge is famous for being the only pilot to survive the assaults on both Death Stars and he is really the one responsible for the destruction of the second Death Star (Lando mainly provided cover in the Falcon). This is made even more amazing by the fact that he is not a central character to the story and is therefore not protected by the character shield that seems to cause every laser blast to curve around Han Solo as oppose to hit him. For crying out loud, he thinks a vest is adequate protection! How can he not be shot within five seconds? Why be Luke with all the force baggage. Be Wedge, the best damn pilot in the galaxy.
The Mouse Bots: Technically the MSE-6 series repair droids (thanks to my good friends at Wookiepedia for all of the info for this post) who are best known for…ok, they are known for nothing at all. In fact, there appearance is never explained in the least as to why in this giant space station there are these small, shoeshine boxes with wheels that happen to scurry around underfoot most likely causing numerous accidents as squads of stormtroopers trip over them. For something that was onscreen for probably a grand total of fifteen seconds I can bet that every single person on the planet knows what they are.
Ponda Baba: Yes, he has a name that isn’t Walrus Man. That is one of the amazing things about what has happened with Star Wars. In the movie and the subsequent action figures this character was only known as Walrus Man or possibly lefty after Obi-Wan’s rather unnecessary attack on him. He could have just force pushed the blaster out of his hand but no, he had to cut his freaking arm off. Anyway, now instead of just being known as the walrus guy who is now short an arm he now has a name and a full back story. There is no need for a back story or a name. As a huge fan of the films I never once wondered about the working relationship between Walrus Man and Pig Nose. However, it helps me to sleep better at night to know that if I ever need to know such information it is readily available.
Salacious Crumb: This is the answer to my favorite Star Wars trivia question. Name Jabba the Hutt’s court jester monkey-lizard thing. A great character for a number of reasons. He provided much needed comic relief and was much better at entertainment than Jabba’s band (you’d think he could hire a better group). He also had the absolute best view of Princess Leia in her metal bikini and you cannot question how important that is. Finally, he got to at least momentarily attack C-3PO and gouge out one of his eyes, which was something that many of us always wanted to do to stop his whining.
Best of 120 Minutes: Ok, this has nothing to do with 120 Minutes but it is the only video that is fitting for Star Wars day.
The five random CDs for the week:
1) Keb’ Mo’ “Slow Down”
2) Old Crow Medicine Show “O.C.M.S.”
3) David Ford “I Sincerely Apologize for All of the Trouble I’ve Caused”
4) Michael McDermott “Bourbon Blue”
5) Anders Parker “Tell it to the Dust”
Gonk: One of my favorite characters from the original trilogy. Essentially just a walking power generator (because if I have learned anything through my study of electrical engineering it is that batteries would be much more efficient if they had legs and a moderate level of artificial intelligence) that has become a bit of a cult hero in the online world as there are a group of people, myself included, who are convinced that Gonk represents God in the original trilogy. He is everprescent yet never takes center stage. I’m certain that he is the one behind every major event in the entire series.
Wedge Antilles: My all time favorite character. Not even Boba Fett can match the level of awesome that is Wedge. Wedge is famous for being the only pilot to survive the assaults on both Death Stars and he is really the one responsible for the destruction of the second Death Star (Lando mainly provided cover in the Falcon). This is made even more amazing by the fact that he is not a central character to the story and is therefore not protected by the character shield that seems to cause every laser blast to curve around Han Solo as oppose to hit him. For crying out loud, he thinks a vest is adequate protection! How can he not be shot within five seconds? Why be Luke with all the force baggage. Be Wedge, the best damn pilot in the galaxy.
The Mouse Bots: Technically the MSE-6 series repair droids (thanks to my good friends at Wookiepedia for all of the info for this post) who are best known for…ok, they are known for nothing at all. In fact, there appearance is never explained in the least as to why in this giant space station there are these small, shoeshine boxes with wheels that happen to scurry around underfoot most likely causing numerous accidents as squads of stormtroopers trip over them. For something that was onscreen for probably a grand total of fifteen seconds I can bet that every single person on the planet knows what they are.
Ponda Baba: Yes, he has a name that isn’t Walrus Man. That is one of the amazing things about what has happened with Star Wars. In the movie and the subsequent action figures this character was only known as Walrus Man or possibly lefty after Obi-Wan’s rather unnecessary attack on him. He could have just force pushed the blaster out of his hand but no, he had to cut his freaking arm off. Anyway, now instead of just being known as the walrus guy who is now short an arm he now has a name and a full back story. There is no need for a back story or a name. As a huge fan of the films I never once wondered about the working relationship between Walrus Man and Pig Nose. However, it helps me to sleep better at night to know that if I ever need to know such information it is readily available.
Salacious Crumb: This is the answer to my favorite Star Wars trivia question. Name Jabba the Hutt’s court jester monkey-lizard thing. A great character for a number of reasons. He provided much needed comic relief and was much better at entertainment than Jabba’s band (you’d think he could hire a better group). He also had the absolute best view of Princess Leia in her metal bikini and you cannot question how important that is. Finally, he got to at least momentarily attack C-3PO and gouge out one of his eyes, which was something that many of us always wanted to do to stop his whining.
Best of 120 Minutes: Ok, this has nothing to do with 120 Minutes but it is the only video that is fitting for Star Wars day.
The five random CDs for the week:
1) Keb’ Mo’ “Slow Down”
2) Old Crow Medicine Show “O.C.M.S.”
3) David Ford “I Sincerely Apologize for All of the Trouble I’ve Caused”
4) Michael McDermott “Bourbon Blue”
5) Anders Parker “Tell it to the Dust”
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