I think I'm beginning to sympathize with my wife.
The back-story:
One of my strict requirements when I am dating someone is that she is attractive to me. I can't tell you how many times I have passed up a wonderful opportunity at a long-term relationship based solely on the fact that I was not in any way, shape or form attracted to my would-be companion.
My Lovely Wife™ (at the time, still My Lovely Girlfriend™) had the edge and good fortune to be very attractive to me. I met her in '98 while Living The Dream as a DJ in glorious Alabama. We hit it off and things progressed quickly.
Several weeks into our new found love affair we got on the subject of celebrity look-alikes. I mentioned that in my college years, I got quite a bit of flack for looking a heck of a lot like Jim Carrey. I'm spoiled and egotistical enough to assume that THIS is why I didn't get a lot more choice dramatic roles in college (it had NOTHING to do with my lack of talent, or course). By the time Alison had come into the picture, I was starting to put on some weight (you can't be a radio personality without consuming McDonald's and Wendy's at least twice a day. It's a law, look it up) and the illusion was fading, thankfully. I have never been a tremendous fan of Mr. Carrey, and although I admire the man for becoming famous by pretending to talk out of his butt, I had hoped that I would achieve fame and fortune without resorting to impersonating the guy. The extra tonnage was helping.
I asked my wife rather innocently if she was told she ever looked like anyone famous. I had posed the question because I was about to remark on the fact that she resembled Olive Oyle, complete with the "OoOoOH!" noises she made when she got flustered. She rolled her eyes and said "Yes! And I was surprised I didn't hear it from you sooner!"
I was all set to say "Aw Popeye!" in a shrill falsetto when she drew her head back and said "I can't believe they forgot my fucking birthday."
I hadn't seen the Molly Ringwald resemblance at ALL until then, but for the past decade I can't watch anything she's in without thinking I am looking at my wife, to a degree. I could do with the red hair, but Alison is a brunette. And I'm sure that if My Lovely Wife™ made as much cash as Ms. Ringwald has on hand, life would be better too. Because the only thing that is important in the world is money, kids. Write that down.
Okay, so when I was enjoying The Salad Days with my significant other, I was content to have a rapidly-fading resemblance to a bombastic physical comic with double joints, and I was more than pleased to be sharing a bed with a woman who looked like a member of The Breakfast Club.
But then "adulthood" stepped in. And by "adulthood" I mean 50 pounds. And by 50 pounds, I mean I have become a big fat bastard.
I'm not HUGE, mind you. But I am definitely not 170 pounds of combustible sex any more, either. Okay, I'm huge. Dammit.
That's the back-story.
Today, for the tenth time, someone has out-of-the-blue stopped me and told me that I remind them of Seth Rogan.
Seth. Rogan. The fat guy from KNOCKED UP. And PINEAPPLE EXPRESS. The huge Jewish guy with curly hair and a big fat chin who is hilarious, I will admit, but who looks NOTHING LIKE ME.
I mean really? Seth Rogan? I don't see the voice, the hair, the mouth, nothing. And yet on TEN SEPARATE FUCKING OCCASIONS I have been told by strangers that I look like him, or I have been asked if I AM him, because why WOULDN'T Seth Rogan be living in Nashville and working as a Graphics Designer who drives a Civic?
I think I preferred being Jim Carrey.
... I think I forgot my point.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
REVOLUTIONARY TURD
I guess I just don't get it.
According to the marketing campaign, the movie is a "searing portrait of the human spirit being crushed by the mediocrity of day-to-day experiences". If I understand the reviews correctly, the film "dares to reveal the dark side of The American Dream." It "skillfully and deftly handles the unmentionable anguish of living in the 20th Century." They even gave Kate a trophy at The Golden Globes for it. And she might win an Oscar.
REVOLUTIONARY ROAD sucked. It sucked long, and it sucked hard. Watching Leo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet try to play a 30something couple mired in the dull, lifeless futility of suburban 'bliss' circa 1959 was like watching a high school drama club attempt to capture the world-weariness and bile-soaked venom of WHO'S AFRAID OF VIRGINIA WOOLF. The dialogue was written by a person who has never heard dialogue spoken by an actor in any kind of production. It is delivered by people who were told to act more angry with their lot in life than they could possibly conceive of actually experiencing. The plot was predictable to the point of being a parody of itself. The fact that they felt it necessary to include scenes where a mental patient spells out the misery that our protagonists are mired in was laughably insulting. Nobody delivered a single line that sounded genuine. REVOLUTIONARY ROAD sucked.
I have a longstanding issue with movies that are hyped by the production company and sold to the American Public as being "avant-garde" and "a new and exciting look" at the way stories are told. Particularly when what we are actually seeing is packaged as a vehicle for the stars who are involved in it. REVOLUTIONARY ROAD thinks it is something bigger than it is, and I wouldn't mind so much if it wasn't as predictable and worn-out.
Questions for those who have seen it and feel that they have seen something incredible:
1- Could you have gotten the same message from this film without Michael Shannon's character ever appearing in it?
2- Did you think for even a moment that Leo "Babyface" DiCaprio ever came across as a man in his late 20's/early 30's? Or that he delivered a SINGLE LINE of dialogue that sounded convincing or was in any way a piece of non-exposition?
3- Was there any doubt in anyone's mind that any affairs would NOT occur? That the ending would NOT play out that way? Was ANYTHING that happened a surprise? And if so, HAVE YOU WATCHED A MOVIE BEFORE IN YOUR LIFE?
4- Could they make Kate Winslet look ANY more haggard or fuck-faced? I understand that they wanted her to be stressed... to look "fallen" to a degree. But she looks like a fucking MAN in this movie. She looks more manly than DiCaprio. Christ.
I felt insulted and angry at the end of this movie. I felt like I had been spoon-fed something that might have been more complex and rich if it had taken the time to be subtle. I burst out laughing when the blood hit the carpet.
The movie sucks. If you enjoyed it then good for you, but I'd like to know why you didn't feel like you were being pandered to. And I would like to know why you have never read or seen WHO'S AFRAID OF VIRGINIA WOOLF, THE WILD PARTY, THE LOST WEEKEND, MAD MEN, AMERICAN BEAUTY (proof the filmmaker IS capable of doing this stuff correctly the first time), or any other piece of work written between 1955 and the present that deals with couples who want to be more than what they are.
What a mess. REVOLUTIONARY ROAD sucked.
According to the marketing campaign, the movie is a "searing portrait of the human spirit being crushed by the mediocrity of day-to-day experiences". If I understand the reviews correctly, the film "dares to reveal the dark side of The American Dream." It "skillfully and deftly handles the unmentionable anguish of living in the 20th Century." They even gave Kate a trophy at The Golden Globes for it. And she might win an Oscar.
REVOLUTIONARY ROAD sucked. It sucked long, and it sucked hard. Watching Leo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet try to play a 30something couple mired in the dull, lifeless futility of suburban 'bliss' circa 1959 was like watching a high school drama club attempt to capture the world-weariness and bile-soaked venom of WHO'S AFRAID OF VIRGINIA WOOLF. The dialogue was written by a person who has never heard dialogue spoken by an actor in any kind of production. It is delivered by people who were told to act more angry with their lot in life than they could possibly conceive of actually experiencing. The plot was predictable to the point of being a parody of itself. The fact that they felt it necessary to include scenes where a mental patient spells out the misery that our protagonists are mired in was laughably insulting. Nobody delivered a single line that sounded genuine. REVOLUTIONARY ROAD sucked.
I have a longstanding issue with movies that are hyped by the production company and sold to the American Public as being "avant-garde" and "a new and exciting look" at the way stories are told. Particularly when what we are actually seeing is packaged as a vehicle for the stars who are involved in it. REVOLUTIONARY ROAD thinks it is something bigger than it is, and I wouldn't mind so much if it wasn't as predictable and worn-out. Questions for those who have seen it and feel that they have seen something incredible:
1- Could you have gotten the same message from this film without Michael Shannon's character ever appearing in it?
2- Did you think for even a moment that Leo "Babyface" DiCaprio ever came across as a man in his late 20's/early 30's? Or that he delivered a SINGLE LINE of dialogue that sounded convincing or was in any way a piece of non-exposition?
3- Was there any doubt in anyone's mind that any affairs would NOT occur? That the ending would NOT play out that way? Was ANYTHING that happened a surprise? And if so, HAVE YOU WATCHED A MOVIE BEFORE IN YOUR LIFE?
4- Could they make Kate Winslet look ANY more haggard or fuck-faced? I understand that they wanted her to be stressed... to look "fallen" to a degree. But she looks like a fucking MAN in this movie. She looks more manly than DiCaprio. Christ.
I felt insulted and angry at the end of this movie. I felt like I had been spoon-fed something that might have been more complex and rich if it had taken the time to be subtle. I burst out laughing when the blood hit the carpet.
The movie sucks. If you enjoyed it then good for you, but I'd like to know why you didn't feel like you were being pandered to. And I would like to know why you have never read or seen WHO'S AFRAID OF VIRGINIA WOOLF, THE WILD PARTY, THE LOST WEEKEND, MAD MEN, AMERICAN BEAUTY (proof the filmmaker IS capable of doing this stuff correctly the first time), or any other piece of work written between 1955 and the present that deals with couples who want to be more than what they are.
What a mess. REVOLUTIONARY ROAD sucked.
Monday, January 19, 2009
The Catch-Up Thing
FIFTEEN EXCITING BITS OF INFORMATION ABOUT ME, AS OF JANUARY, 2009
1- I over-use the all-caps feature!
2- The Nintendo Wii is a fine, fine game system if you have any grudges against your rotator cuff. Failure to use your strap will result in dents in the drywall. Oopsie.
3- My mother and stepfather are LOOPY NUTS about the HBO Series THE WIRE, which My Lovely Wife™ and I bought them for Christmas. YOU should be too.
4- I was sick as a dog over the holidays. Hence: no blogging. In addition, nothing funny happened to me for a while. Unless you could being sick as a dog as "funny". If so, fuck you. During my illness, I overdosed on codeine and booze, and I had the most trippy experience I have ever had in my adult life. I was loopy on narcotics in the guest room of my father and stepmother (see, Ginny? I describe it like that now)'s house. Ever trip balls in your parents home? Legally? Crikey!
5- We got our log-in date! As of November 17, 2006 My Lovely Wife™ and I are logged into The People's Republic Of China's adoption database. What does that mean? It means we wait. We wait and wait and wait, and hopefully we get a letter someday that says "Come get this to-go order. Twenty minute. No checks. You want soy sauce?"
6- Thanks to the magic of my mate Mike (alliteration! swish!), a short cartoon that I lent my voice to will be featured on IFC. Want more info? So do I. Details are a-comin'.
7- We now have a built-in "cat box box" in our garage. This means that we have a large wooden box sticking out of out garage wall and there is a pet door in our laundry room. Our little bastards go through a pet door into the box and use the litter boxes in there. What does this mean to us? No more cat litter all over the laundry room! And no more smells! And no more split ends! What does this mean to you? Nothing. Let's move on.
8- If you have been living in Nashville and NOT attending the Belcourt's midnight movie series, you have missed out on a BOUNTY of movies that you can otherwise only see if you have basic cable! Last weekend I enjoyed a 35mm print of THE KARATE KID in glorious screen-o-vision! And two weeks before that? BACK TO THE FUTURE. GREAT SCOTT!
9- Speaking of cinema- a lot of folks have asked me what my pick has been for the Best Movie Of 2008. And by "a lot of folks" I mean "one". And by "one" I mean "nobody". Regardless, I'd like to announce that my official choice for the best movie of 2008 is the Swedish thriller LET THE RIGHT ONE IN. An incredibly well-told story about a lonely 12 year-old boy who is on the verge of snapping and lashing out at his bullies, and a strange 12 year-old named Eli who comes into his life when they both need a friend. It's moody, grotesque, deep, cathartic and mesmerizing. Good news for the morons in the world, the film has already been bought up and is in the process of being adapted for American audiences by the guys who brought you CLOVERFIELD and LOST. Here's an idea- see this movie before they fuck it up.
10- I have nothing for #10
11- Have I mentioned how sore my shoulder is? Damn Wii. Damn Wii Sports. Damn drywall.
12- Here's a photo of two ladybugs humping. JEALOUS?
.jpg)
13- SPEAKING of hot sex-on-film action... well, not really... here is a photo that I posted on Flickr. It's of My Lovely Wife. She is playing with the cats and looking, well... in MY opinion, she's looking just plain adorable. And by "adorable" I mean "hot". And by "hot" I mean HOLY CRAP LOOK AT HER CLEAVAGE.
I put it on my photos page and added the following tags to it: "Wife", "Candid", "Cats".
It got 2... maybe 3 hits in 6 hours.
So as a lark... just to "see" what would happen, I added three more tags to it: "Sexy", "Downblouse" and "Cleavage"...
In less than 24 hours the photo got 10,496 hits. HEY INTERNET! STAY CREEPY!
14- I'm almost done with this post.
15- ... ... ... ... done!
1- I over-use the all-caps feature!
2- The Nintendo Wii is a fine, fine game system if you have any grudges against your rotator cuff. Failure to use your strap will result in dents in the drywall. Oopsie.
3- My mother and stepfather are LOOPY NUTS about the HBO Series THE WIRE, which My Lovely Wife™ and I bought them for Christmas. YOU should be too.
4- I was sick as a dog over the holidays. Hence: no blogging. In addition, nothing funny happened to me for a while. Unless you could being sick as a dog as "funny". If so, fuck you. During my illness, I overdosed on codeine and booze, and I had the most trippy experience I have ever had in my adult life. I was loopy on narcotics in the guest room of my father and stepmother (see, Ginny? I describe it like that now)'s house. Ever trip balls in your parents home? Legally? Crikey!
5- We got our log-in date! As of November 17, 2006 My Lovely Wife™ and I are logged into The People's Republic Of China's adoption database. What does that mean? It means we wait. We wait and wait and wait, and hopefully we get a letter someday that says "Come get this to-go order. Twenty minute. No checks. You want soy sauce?"
6- Thanks to the magic of my mate Mike (alliteration! swish!), a short cartoon that I lent my voice to will be featured on IFC. Want more info? So do I. Details are a-comin'.
7- We now have a built-in "cat box box" in our garage. This means that we have a large wooden box sticking out of out garage wall and there is a pet door in our laundry room. Our little bastards go through a pet door into the box and use the litter boxes in there. What does this mean to us? No more cat litter all over the laundry room! And no more smells! And no more split ends! What does this mean to you? Nothing. Let's move on.
8- If you have been living in Nashville and NOT attending the Belcourt's midnight movie series, you have missed out on a BOUNTY of movies that you can otherwise only see if you have basic cable! Last weekend I enjoyed a 35mm print of THE KARATE KID in glorious screen-o-vision! And two weeks before that? BACK TO THE FUTURE. GREAT SCOTT!
9- Speaking of cinema- a lot of folks have asked me what my pick has been for the Best Movie Of 2008. And by "a lot of folks" I mean "one". And by "one" I mean "nobody". Regardless, I'd like to announce that my official choice for the best movie of 2008 is the Swedish thriller LET THE RIGHT ONE IN. An incredibly well-told story about a lonely 12 year-old boy who is on the verge of snapping and lashing out at his bullies, and a strange 12 year-old named Eli who comes into his life when they both need a friend. It's moody, grotesque, deep, cathartic and mesmerizing. Good news for the morons in the world, the film has already been bought up and is in the process of being adapted for American audiences by the guys who brought you CLOVERFIELD and LOST. Here's an idea- see this movie before they fuck it up.
10- I have nothing for #10
11- Have I mentioned how sore my shoulder is? Damn Wii. Damn Wii Sports. Damn drywall.
12- Here's a photo of two ladybugs humping. JEALOUS?
.jpg)
13- SPEAKING of hot sex-on-film action... well, not really... here is a photo that I posted on Flickr. It's of My Lovely Wife. She is playing with the cats and looking, well... in MY opinion, she's looking just plain adorable. And by "adorable" I mean "hot". And by "hot" I mean HOLY CRAP LOOK AT HER CLEAVAGE.
I put it on my photos page and added the following tags to it: "Wife", "Candid", "Cats".
It got 2... maybe 3 hits in 6 hours.
So as a lark... just to "see" what would happen, I added three more tags to it: "Sexy", "Downblouse" and "Cleavage"...
In less than 24 hours the photo got 10,496 hits. HEY INTERNET! STAY CREEPY!
14- I'm almost done with this post.
15- ... ... ... ... done!
Friday, January 16, 2009
REPO! THE GENETIC OPERA
Last night I saw REPO! THE GENETIC OPERA at The Belcourt. I would like to extend my apologies and a hearty "well done" to everyone whom I asked to come along with me to see it and refused. You chose wisely.
"Hey there 16 year-old clove-smoking upper-middle class private school students! Do your parents not GET IT, MAAAAN? Does the sound of My Chemical Romance accurately express your anger at Fox for canceling [i]Buffy[/i]? Have you ever wondered if a major studio would produce a movie full of songs with lyrics that rival the poetry you post on your MySpace blog? Would you like to see what Evanescence sees when she is wacked out on hoppers and she's strap-on-fucking Gwen Stefani with a dildo shaped like Jack Skellington? Well come on out and see REPO! THE GENETIC OPERA! It'll make you feel like you felt when you watched MOULIN ROUGE with your older sister and she made fun of you for crying!"
Hey look! It's Paris Hilton, appearing as a whorish rich girl addicted to plastic surgery! Fuck you, REPO! THE GENETIC OPERA. Fuck you.
On the bright side, it's only January 16th and I have already gotten the worst movie I can see all year over and done with.
"Hey there 16 year-old clove-smoking upper-middle class private school students! Do your parents not GET IT, MAAAAN? Does the sound of My Chemical Romance accurately express your anger at Fox for canceling [i]Buffy[/i]? Have you ever wondered if a major studio would produce a movie full of songs with lyrics that rival the poetry you post on your MySpace blog? Would you like to see what Evanescence sees when she is wacked out on hoppers and she's strap-on-fucking Gwen Stefani with a dildo shaped like Jack Skellington? Well come on out and see REPO! THE GENETIC OPERA! It'll make you feel like you felt when you watched MOULIN ROUGE with your older sister and she made fun of you for crying!"
Hey look! It's Paris Hilton, appearing as a whorish rich girl addicted to plastic surgery! Fuck you, REPO! THE GENETIC OPERA. Fuck you.
On the bright side, it's only January 16th and I have already gotten the worst movie I can see all year over and done with.
Thursday, December 04, 2008
Lunch
I am 2o pounds overweight. I was 30 pounds overweight and I dropped 10 pounds in 2 weeks thanks to a system that actually works, called Not Eating Like A Fucking Pig And Taking A Jog Once And A While. But the last few weeks I have been slacking and lazy and I can feel the fat starting to climb back on. And that sucks. But what sucks worse is being hungry, so off I went.
If you don't have a Harris Teeter in your region, you have something close to it, at least. Harris Teeter is a high-class supermarket. The kind with a deli and a 210-foot salad bar and employees who don't look like they are counting the minutes until they can go out by the loading dock and smoke. Every weekday the deli at HT offers working stiffs like myself a 6-inch deli-made sandwich for only $2.99. Want a footlong? Add two bucks. What a deal!
MY PLAN: Go to HT. Get a 6-inch. Grab a salad at the bar. Go light on the dressing. Feel thin.
THE EXECUTION: Go to HT. See that they special of the day is a meatball sub. Go for the foot-long. Eat it at your desk in less than 10 minutes. Feel your stomach go from a gentle slope to a beachball. Suck down a Dr. Pepper, because nothing says "fatty" like extra air in your stomach.
And JUST as I am downing the last bite, the very MOMENT that I am thinking "So what if I feel a little fat today? I can suck in my belly if anyone important comes around"... that's when it happens.
My morsel of bread and tomato sauce goes rogue.
Boy let me tell you! Nothing in the world says "FAT FUCK" like a splotch of deep red tomato sauce and grease at the most swollen point on your torso.
The fucking diet starts tomorrow.
If you don't have a Harris Teeter in your region, you have something close to it, at least. Harris Teeter is a high-class supermarket. The kind with a deli and a 210-foot salad bar and employees who don't look like they are counting the minutes until they can go out by the loading dock and smoke. Every weekday the deli at HT offers working stiffs like myself a 6-inch deli-made sandwich for only $2.99. Want a footlong? Add two bucks. What a deal!
MY PLAN: Go to HT. Get a 6-inch. Grab a salad at the bar. Go light on the dressing. Feel thin.
THE EXECUTION: Go to HT. See that they special of the day is a meatball sub. Go for the foot-long. Eat it at your desk in less than 10 minutes. Feel your stomach go from a gentle slope to a beachball. Suck down a Dr. Pepper, because nothing says "fatty" like extra air in your stomach.
And JUST as I am downing the last bite, the very MOMENT that I am thinking "So what if I feel a little fat today? I can suck in my belly if anyone important comes around"... that's when it happens.
My morsel of bread and tomato sauce goes rogue.
Boy let me tell you! Nothing in the world says "FAT FUCK" like a splotch of deep red tomato sauce and grease at the most swollen point on your torso.
The fucking diet starts tomorrow.
Monday, December 01, 2008
Oh My! Aren't We Edgy! We're Willing To Lampoon Ourselves!
The best way for me to explain to you how I feel about this article is to paint you a mental picture, if I may.
Let's say that you have a lovely home. Let's say that the house is very large, very modern, and people from all over come and see it because it's just that damn fine. There is marble everywhere and the crown molding is perfect. The bathrooms have those goofy doohickeys that clean your butt off for you when you are done doing your business. The front door is rounded, like the doorways in The Simpsons. And there are lovely plants and sculptures throughout.
Oh, and there is a dead, rotting dog in the middle of the kitchen.
Don't make any mistake about it: the kitchen is all stainless steel and the counter tops are granite, but there's also a 200-pound dead St. Bernard on the floor. He's been there for weeks and he's bloated and gray and there is a nest of mice living in what used to be the dog's ass.
That's not the entire portrait I need to paint for you, but it's a start. The point of the portrait is that there is a family who lives in that house and accepts visitors from all over the world to enjoy it and be entertained by that house, but for some reason... even though the smell of the big dead rotting dog makes people gag and hork... nobody mentions it or even refers to it being there when they walk through the house!
Then suddenly... with no warning or explanation as to why... the owner of the house walks into the kitchen one day... a kitchen that he has been walking through for years... and without any sort of logic behind it he suddenly slaps his palms on his cheeks and his eyes bug out and he says "Oh my god! There's a dead dog in here!"
It annoys the shit out of me when Hollywood seems to come across as if they don't know that they are a shallow, self-obsessed, money-hungry, condescending entity with little to no regard for anything that is NOT superficial or trite.
It annoys m even more when they act like it's news.
Make no mistake: CNN isn't digging into this investigation because they have stumbled across a soon-to-be-released feature film that satirizes Hollywood. This "Oh My, Aren't We Edgy" news was spoon-fed to them by the studio releasing this thing. And that makes it worse because what they are trying to do is drum up business for a movie that otherwise won't make money based on its' merits as a film.
Condescending self-awareness in the face of the obvious is a terrible trait that rarely does any real good. Think back to the mid 90's when Johnathan Demme shat out the steaming turd that was PHILADELPHIA. The movie sucked balls. The screenplay was pandering and arthritic, and the focus of the whole thing was to make you feel sorry for people with AIDS. Which you shouldn't have to depend on a movie to do anyway.
On a side note, I can recall sitting in a packed movie theater watching a rail-thin Tom Hanks collapse out of the witness chair and unintentionally letting out a snorting guffaw of amazement that a 'major studio release' had the gall to stoop that low. I was treated to a stern "You must be Satan" gaze from the blue-haired Jewish lady in front of me for that one. Sorry.
A movie shouldn't try to drum up press for itself for being controversial unless it actually IS a controversial movie. And in that case, the studio doesn't need to do the work because some other useless organization that wants attention will step in to field that. For every AMERICAN PSYCHO and KITE RUNNER (both had ad campaigns and publicity junkets that claimed that the studio itself is worried about the effects of it's impending release upon the general public) there are SCADS of legitimately good films that will draw flack from controversy for simply being (see: THE LAST TEMPTATION OF CHRIST, A CLOCKWORK ORANGE).
But to be so self-effacing and gregarious as to try to drum up wobbly controversy regarding a Hollywood movie that might... heaven forbid... poke fun at Hollywood movies... and to act as if that might be a sin in the eyes of the system... as if nobody would have ever noticed that The Industry might have more than a few exploitable flaws... as if THIS is the movie that is going to open one's eyes to the self-absorbed underbelly that IS 'Hollywood'...
Pathetic.
Quick game for you to try playing: Come up with some big studio movies about making movies that don't make cartoon characters out of its' stars. Come up with some independent movies about making movies that don't come across as bitter and angry with how Hollywood treats itself. I get as close as SUNSET BLVD before I give up. And that movie is 60 years old.
Let's say that you have a lovely home. Let's say that the house is very large, very modern, and people from all over come and see it because it's just that damn fine. There is marble everywhere and the crown molding is perfect. The bathrooms have those goofy doohickeys that clean your butt off for you when you are done doing your business. The front door is rounded, like the doorways in The Simpsons. And there are lovely plants and sculptures throughout.
Oh, and there is a dead, rotting dog in the middle of the kitchen.
Don't make any mistake about it: the kitchen is all stainless steel and the counter tops are granite, but there's also a 200-pound dead St. Bernard on the floor. He's been there for weeks and he's bloated and gray and there is a nest of mice living in what used to be the dog's ass.
That's not the entire portrait I need to paint for you, but it's a start. The point of the portrait is that there is a family who lives in that house and accepts visitors from all over the world to enjoy it and be entertained by that house, but for some reason... even though the smell of the big dead rotting dog makes people gag and hork... nobody mentions it or even refers to it being there when they walk through the house!
Then suddenly... with no warning or explanation as to why... the owner of the house walks into the kitchen one day... a kitchen that he has been walking through for years... and without any sort of logic behind it he suddenly slaps his palms on his cheeks and his eyes bug out and he says "Oh my god! There's a dead dog in here!"
It annoys the shit out of me when Hollywood seems to come across as if they don't know that they are a shallow, self-obsessed, money-hungry, condescending entity with little to no regard for anything that is NOT superficial or trite.
It annoys m even more when they act like it's news.
Make no mistake: CNN isn't digging into this investigation because they have stumbled across a soon-to-be-released feature film that satirizes Hollywood. This "Oh My, Aren't We Edgy" news was spoon-fed to them by the studio releasing this thing. And that makes it worse because what they are trying to do is drum up business for a movie that otherwise won't make money based on its' merits as a film.
Condescending self-awareness in the face of the obvious is a terrible trait that rarely does any real good. Think back to the mid 90's when Johnathan Demme shat out the steaming turd that was PHILADELPHIA. The movie sucked balls. The screenplay was pandering and arthritic, and the focus of the whole thing was to make you feel sorry for people with AIDS. Which you shouldn't have to depend on a movie to do anyway.
On a side note, I can recall sitting in a packed movie theater watching a rail-thin Tom Hanks collapse out of the witness chair and unintentionally letting out a snorting guffaw of amazement that a 'major studio release' had the gall to stoop that low. I was treated to a stern "You must be Satan" gaze from the blue-haired Jewish lady in front of me for that one. Sorry.
A movie shouldn't try to drum up press for itself for being controversial unless it actually IS a controversial movie. And in that case, the studio doesn't need to do the work because some other useless organization that wants attention will step in to field that. For every AMERICAN PSYCHO and KITE RUNNER (both had ad campaigns and publicity junkets that claimed that the studio itself is worried about the effects of it's impending release upon the general public) there are SCADS of legitimately good films that will draw flack from controversy for simply being (see: THE LAST TEMPTATION OF CHRIST, A CLOCKWORK ORANGE).
But to be so self-effacing and gregarious as to try to drum up wobbly controversy regarding a Hollywood movie that might... heaven forbid... poke fun at Hollywood movies... and to act as if that might be a sin in the eyes of the system... as if nobody would have ever noticed that The Industry might have more than a few exploitable flaws... as if THIS is the movie that is going to open one's eyes to the self-absorbed underbelly that IS 'Hollywood'...
Pathetic.
Quick game for you to try playing: Come up with some big studio movies about making movies that don't make cartoon characters out of its' stars. Come up with some independent movies about making movies that don't come across as bitter and angry with how Hollywood treats itself. I get as close as SUNSET BLVD before I give up. And that movie is 60 years old.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Marcello...
A McTale
In an effort to NOT appear as a conglomerate that doesn’t give a damn about the common consumer, McDonald’s Corporation has been rolling out an interesting option to their franchises over the past few weeks. They call them “The Manager’s Specials”. The logic behind it is that McDonald’s will look more like a non-corporate, non-by-the-book cancer factory and more like a big, lucky company that has a LOT of stores but who gives their local managers some leeway with the menu.
They destroy this concept by printing and selling six-foot-by-four-foot full-color posters that advertise the manager’s specials on them, along with giant photos of whatever heart-attack-in-a-bag you happen to be able to purchase for a reasonable fee, but that’s not really the point of this tale. I only needed to mention that the Manager’s Specials are in play in order for you to appreciate the following true story.
Our local McDonald’s is pretty heavy on the Mexican and pretty light on the “Ugh” factor. The “Ugh” factor usually consists of phantom poopie smells when you walk in and a general sense that you just missed the cockroach parade. I work in Brentwood, which is a pretty nice part of Nashville, and the McDonald’s is in pretty good shape. It’s forgivable that our servers don’t speak English because at least there isn’t a sticky floor is what I am saying. Stay with me, I’m almost ready to start making sense.
This week’s “Manager’s Special” is a doozy. TWO Triple Cheeseburgers for ONLY $3.15. Yes indeed! For only Three dollars and fifteen sense you can enjoy SIX all-beef patties smothered in pickles, re-hyrdated onions and processed cheeze-food. And don’t get me wrong, I LOVE’S ME SOME CHOLESTEROL, so I am all for the deal. The only problem is that I don’t like cheese on my burgers. There’s something about the gooey, slimy, tangy taste of the slices of cheeze-food that McDonald’s has opted to use on their products that reminds me of industrial lubricant. The cheeze-food they use is more adhesive than Super-Glue. I defy you to pry a bun off of a freshly-served cheebooga from The Scottish Bastard without ripping it’s underside off. It’s not natural, I tell you. Not a bit. What I am trying to say is that I am not a fan of cheese from McDonald’s. I only hope I have made my point.
In the past, I have ordered a double-cheeseburger and asked them to “hold the cheese” and I have encountered no problems at all, apart from an occasional funny look. It’s an understandable request; I want all the benefits that twice the meat will offer me, but without the messy, sticky goo. A double cheeseburger with no cheese? Comin’ right up, pal! Thanks for shopping American!
But nothing could prepare my server for a request to hold the cheese on a TRIPLE CHEESEBURGER MANAGER’S SPECIAL.
I literally blew his circuits. I asked for the Two-Triple-Cheeseburger-Special with NO cheese and my Latin friend went blank and all the life drained from his eyes. I might as well have said that I didn’t think 2 Fast, 2 Furious was a very good movie. Or that some companies offer insurance and dental care. Or that you don’t need tinfoil to cook food on a grill.
He was really shocked, that’s all I am trying to say.
He was SO shocked, in fact, that he spent the next TWO SOLID MINUTES trying to type this into his food-ordering-thingy. Every twenty seconds he would raise his head back up and say “Okay... two triple cheeseburgers... no cheese?”
“No cheese,” I would reply. “And a 6-piece chicken.”
“No cheese?” He’d ask again, in awe and wonder.
“No cheese, and a 6-piece chicken.”
That happened every twenty seconds. For two minutes.
A few minutes later, I got my to-go bag. I didn’t remember to ask for it “to-go”, and I am quite familiar with McDonald’s unwritten policy of sending lunatics and homeless people on their way without a tray, so I let it slide.
I DID, however, want some sauces with my McNuggets.
Oh- hold on, I guess I should cover my reasoning and logic behind why I ordered TWO TRIPLE CHEESEBURGERS WITHOUT CHEESE and IN ADDITION, a 6-piece order of Chicken McNuggets.
I am a fat fucking pig, that’s why. Ok, let’s move on...
So my server, who has spent MORE than enough time judging me, hands me a bag with my food in it and says “Thank you”. It is a known fact that it is impossible to eat Chicken McNuggets without sauce. It can’t be done. My sauces of preference? For the last 20 years it can only be One Barbecue and One Hot Mustard, please.
Marcello looks temporarily pained, opens my bag, reaches under the counter, and shoves his hand into my bag in a gesture of full pleasure to be serving such an upstanding and undemanding client. Then he very quickly turns his attention to the incredibly busty and financially questionable Latin-American Mom standing behind me. I leave the establishment.
Here’s where it gets awesome.
Back in the office, I open my bag and plunge a hand into its steamy depths, and I retrieve the first of my two Cheese-Free-Triple Cheeseburgers.
You know, the one that is COVERED in cheese.
Frustration rising, I dive into the bag again and pull out the second burger. THIS one has so much cheese on it that it is almost impossible to separate it from the paper it is wrapped in.
MAAAAAARCELLLLLOOOOOOO!
It finally dawns on me how all this went down. My dude is behind a counter, working his ass off and hating every second of his life, and I stroll in and make a completely unreasonable demand for a cheese-free namesake. He can’t find the buttons on his amazing ordering device and after TWO FULL MINUTES, he just says “fuck it” and decides I will be better off if he ignores my request completely. I can confirmed this by looking and the receipt and noticing that there is no account of “no cheese” on it. Marcello knew what was best for me. I can’t possibly fault him for THAT.
But here’s the best part...
The best part is that I decide to forgo the cheeseburger experience and I toss them aside... “oh well, I think to myself. I didn’t really need two goddamn burgers AND Chicken McNuggets. I am supposed to be watching my weight as it is.
I know you are thinking that this ends with Marcello not giving me my chicken. Oh no, no the 6-piece was in there all right. Right on the bottom of the bag, all by itself.
Not a damn sauce packet in sight.
I wish you were there when I asked for the 2 sauces so you would believe me when I tell you that I LITERALLY WITNESSED MY SERVER PRETENDING TO INCLUDE SAUCE PACKS IN MY BAG JUST SO I WOULD GO AWAY.
I can’t stress this visual enough! I was LOOKING across the counter to the prep area and I PHYSICALLY SAW several packs of sauce in containers back there. I ASKED my harried server for a couple of them and he REACHES below the counter as if he is grabbing some (All the while I am thinking “Oh, he must have a supply of them under there as well so he doesn’t have to turn around”)... and he MIMICS PUTTING CONTAINERS OF SAUCE INTO MY BAG.
Marcello... YOU are the Manager’s Special in MY book.
In an effort to NOT appear as a conglomerate that doesn’t give a damn about the common consumer, McDonald’s Corporation has been rolling out an interesting option to their franchises over the past few weeks. They call them “The Manager’s Specials”. The logic behind it is that McDonald’s will look more like a non-corporate, non-by-the-book cancer factory and more like a big, lucky company that has a LOT of stores but who gives their local managers some leeway with the menu.
They destroy this concept by printing and selling six-foot-by-four-foot full-color posters that advertise the manager’s specials on them, along with giant photos of whatever heart-attack-in-a-bag you happen to be able to purchase for a reasonable fee, but that’s not really the point of this tale. I only needed to mention that the Manager’s Specials are in play in order for you to appreciate the following true story.
Our local McDonald’s is pretty heavy on the Mexican and pretty light on the “Ugh” factor. The “Ugh” factor usually consists of phantom poopie smells when you walk in and a general sense that you just missed the cockroach parade. I work in Brentwood, which is a pretty nice part of Nashville, and the McDonald’s is in pretty good shape. It’s forgivable that our servers don’t speak English because at least there isn’t a sticky floor is what I am saying. Stay with me, I’m almost ready to start making sense.
This week’s “Manager’s Special” is a doozy. TWO Triple Cheeseburgers for ONLY $3.15. Yes indeed! For only Three dollars and fifteen sense you can enjoy SIX all-beef patties smothered in pickles, re-hyrdated onions and processed cheeze-food. And don’t get me wrong, I LOVE’S ME SOME CHOLESTEROL, so I am all for the deal. The only problem is that I don’t like cheese on my burgers. There’s something about the gooey, slimy, tangy taste of the slices of cheeze-food that McDonald’s has opted to use on their products that reminds me of industrial lubricant. The cheeze-food they use is more adhesive than Super-Glue. I defy you to pry a bun off of a freshly-served cheebooga from The Scottish Bastard without ripping it’s underside off. It’s not natural, I tell you. Not a bit. What I am trying to say is that I am not a fan of cheese from McDonald’s. I only hope I have made my point.
In the past, I have ordered a double-cheeseburger and asked them to “hold the cheese” and I have encountered no problems at all, apart from an occasional funny look. It’s an understandable request; I want all the benefits that twice the meat will offer me, but without the messy, sticky goo. A double cheeseburger with no cheese? Comin’ right up, pal! Thanks for shopping American!
But nothing could prepare my server for a request to hold the cheese on a TRIPLE CHEESEBURGER MANAGER’S SPECIAL.
I literally blew his circuits. I asked for the Two-Triple-Cheeseburger-Special with NO cheese and my Latin friend went blank and all the life drained from his eyes. I might as well have said that I didn’t think 2 Fast, 2 Furious was a very good movie. Or that some companies offer insurance and dental care. Or that you don’t need tinfoil to cook food on a grill.
He was really shocked, that’s all I am trying to say.
He was SO shocked, in fact, that he spent the next TWO SOLID MINUTES trying to type this into his food-ordering-thingy. Every twenty seconds he would raise his head back up and say “Okay... two triple cheeseburgers... no cheese?”
“No cheese,” I would reply. “And a 6-piece chicken.”
“No cheese?” He’d ask again, in awe and wonder.
“No cheese, and a 6-piece chicken.”
That happened every twenty seconds. For two minutes.
A few minutes later, I got my to-go bag. I didn’t remember to ask for it “to-go”, and I am quite familiar with McDonald’s unwritten policy of sending lunatics and homeless people on their way without a tray, so I let it slide.
I DID, however, want some sauces with my McNuggets.
Oh- hold on, I guess I should cover my reasoning and logic behind why I ordered TWO TRIPLE CHEESEBURGERS WITHOUT CHEESE and IN ADDITION, a 6-piece order of Chicken McNuggets.
I am a fat fucking pig, that’s why. Ok, let’s move on...
So my server, who has spent MORE than enough time judging me, hands me a bag with my food in it and says “Thank you”. It is a known fact that it is impossible to eat Chicken McNuggets without sauce. It can’t be done. My sauces of preference? For the last 20 years it can only be One Barbecue and One Hot Mustard, please.
Marcello looks temporarily pained, opens my bag, reaches under the counter, and shoves his hand into my bag in a gesture of full pleasure to be serving such an upstanding and undemanding client. Then he very quickly turns his attention to the incredibly busty and financially questionable Latin-American Mom standing behind me. I leave the establishment.
Here’s where it gets awesome.
Back in the office, I open my bag and plunge a hand into its steamy depths, and I retrieve the first of my two Cheese-Free-Triple Cheeseburgers.
You know, the one that is COVERED in cheese.
Frustration rising, I dive into the bag again and pull out the second burger. THIS one has so much cheese on it that it is almost impossible to separate it from the paper it is wrapped in.
MAAAAAARCELLLLLOOOOOOO!
It finally dawns on me how all this went down. My dude is behind a counter, working his ass off and hating every second of his life, and I stroll in and make a completely unreasonable demand for a cheese-free namesake. He can’t find the buttons on his amazing ordering device and after TWO FULL MINUTES, he just says “fuck it” and decides I will be better off if he ignores my request completely. I can confirmed this by looking and the receipt and noticing that there is no account of “no cheese” on it. Marcello knew what was best for me. I can’t possibly fault him for THAT.
But here’s the best part...
The best part is that I decide to forgo the cheeseburger experience and I toss them aside... “oh well, I think to myself. I didn’t really need two goddamn burgers AND Chicken McNuggets. I am supposed to be watching my weight as it is.
I know you are thinking that this ends with Marcello not giving me my chicken. Oh no, no the 6-piece was in there all right. Right on the bottom of the bag, all by itself.
Not a damn sauce packet in sight.
I wish you were there when I asked for the 2 sauces so you would believe me when I tell you that I LITERALLY WITNESSED MY SERVER PRETENDING TO INCLUDE SAUCE PACKS IN MY BAG JUST SO I WOULD GO AWAY.
I can’t stress this visual enough! I was LOOKING across the counter to the prep area and I PHYSICALLY SAW several packs of sauce in containers back there. I ASKED my harried server for a couple of them and he REACHES below the counter as if he is grabbing some (All the while I am thinking “Oh, he must have a supply of them under there as well so he doesn’t have to turn around”)... and he MIMICS PUTTING CONTAINERS OF SAUCE INTO MY BAG.
Marcello... YOU are the Manager’s Special in MY book.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Geeker
Geeker 'Mudd' The Cat
October, 1995 - June, 2008
"Shrewd Confident, Soft Companion, and Mighty Conqueror Of Squeeky Rubber Mice"
I miss you a lot, buddy. You were a really good cat.
October, 1995 - June, 2008
"Shrewd Confident, Soft Companion, and Mighty Conqueror Of Squeeky Rubber Mice"
I miss you a lot, buddy. You were a really good cat.
Friday, June 20, 2008
73%
Here's an interesting factoid, according to epidemiologist Elizabeth Pisani, who has devoted her life to studying the AIDS epidemic and its' impact on global societies and culture:
The failure rate of "vows of celibacy" by U.S. teenagers is a little higher than 73%.
73 out of 100 dopey teens who stand up and raise their hand to "God" and pledge that nobody will touch their no-no spots until their wedding nights can't do it.
I mention this statistic for a couple of reasons:
1- The statistic is verified and my source is given (unlike the 90% of you TRUE CHRISTIANS won't be proud enough to pass this dogshit 'Pro God' message on).
2- Most people who hear this act shocked, even though THEY are the same folks who got their bubble burst in the back seat of their Dad's Ford after Homecoming.
3- We live in a culture where sex is the number one selling tool. We've been that way since the 30's. Many would argue that we've been that way since we were cave dwellers. Sex sells, but HAVING sex is a bad thing, kids... so JUST SAY NO.
We're hopeless as a species. I just want you to see that.
Here's another thing to mull over. The person working next to you; whether you are in a cube farm or at the counter at Subway- the person sitting next to you has though about what you are like when you are having sex.
I don't have the data to back that up, but it's true.
And right now, you are returning the favor. Way to go.
The failure rate of "vows of celibacy" by U.S. teenagers is a little higher than 73%.
73 out of 100 dopey teens who stand up and raise their hand to "God" and pledge that nobody will touch their no-no spots until their wedding nights can't do it.
I mention this statistic for a couple of reasons:
1- The statistic is verified and my source is given (unlike the 90% of you TRUE CHRISTIANS won't be proud enough to pass this dogshit 'Pro God' message on).
2- Most people who hear this act shocked, even though THEY are the same folks who got their bubble burst in the back seat of their Dad's Ford after Homecoming.
3- We live in a culture where sex is the number one selling tool. We've been that way since the 30's. Many would argue that we've been that way since we were cave dwellers. Sex sells, but HAVING sex is a bad thing, kids... so JUST SAY NO.
We're hopeless as a species. I just want you to see that.
Here's another thing to mull over. The person working next to you; whether you are in a cube farm or at the counter at Subway- the person sitting next to you has though about what you are like when you are having sex.
I don't have the data to back that up, but it's true.
And right now, you are returning the favor. Way to go.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Friday, May 30, 2008
Crash
Last night at 10:30 I hear a terrific crash in my garage. My ladder fell off the wall and literally landed 2 inches from my new car. 2 INCHES.
I'm not making it up. Here's a photo:
I tell this story to a few co-workers this morning near our coffee machine. And GUESS WHAT one of the responses HAD to be...
"Well someone up there sure was looking out for you!"
Yes indeed. God in his infinite wisdom, majesty, and grace went forth, eschewed the standard pleas from suffering masses of starving children and dying retches, and STOPPED A LADDER FROM HITTING THE HOOD OF MY CAR.
And you ask me why I think religion is silly.
I know, I know, she was just making an off-handed comment about how lucky I was.
But it certainly indicates something deeper at work.
In other news, I am eating a bean burrito. So you see where I am standing on the weight of this issue.
I'm not making it up. Here's a photo:
I tell this story to a few co-workers this morning near our coffee machine. And GUESS WHAT one of the responses HAD to be...
"Well someone up there sure was looking out for you!"
Yes indeed. God in his infinite wisdom, majesty, and grace went forth, eschewed the standard pleas from suffering masses of starving children and dying retches, and STOPPED A LADDER FROM HITTING THE HOOD OF MY CAR.
And you ask me why I think religion is silly.
I know, I know, she was just making an off-handed comment about how lucky I was.
But it certainly indicates something deeper at work.
In other news, I am eating a bean burrito. So you see where I am standing on the weight of this issue.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
The one where we catch up
Hi. It's been a while.
Man, you look great.
Sorry I haven't complained about anything to you for so long. I will try to catch you up to all the wonderful and exciting stuff that has been going on in my life as of late.
Very little.
My Lovely Wife™ and I spent the Memorial Day Weekend mostly on our hands and knees in our yard. My garden now boasts green peppers, tomatoes, assorted herbs and spices, and a patch of mystery gourds: the result of my throwing a rotting bucket of Thanksgiving Day centerpiece offal into the planter as fertilizer and watching it go nuts.
I also got a path laid out from my back porch to my garden and it is pine-bark-a-fied. Progress has never looked so square!
My Lovely Wife™ spent her time in the front yard digging and weeding and setting up our front beds to look nice and proper. While doing so, she slathered suntan lotion on every visible inch of her body... except for her lower back. Fun fact about My Lovely Wife™: when she works, she looks like a sexy plumber... complete with an exposed lower back and a pretty impressive view of whatever panties she happens to be wearing that day.
After four hours in the sun, she has earned a pretty ridiculous-looking sunburn. It looks like two parenthesis if they were sideways. Turn your head and look at this: ( ) ... now picture it being cooked-lobster red and right above My Lovely Wife's shapely fanny.
She's in a lot of pain. I think it's hilarious. Mostly because I'm a jerk.
The up-side? I get to smear aloe and lotion all over my wife's butt about 6 times a day. EVERYBODY WINS!
In other news, there IS no other news. See why I haven't written? My life is too boring for you to be interested in.
Now kindly stop thinking about My Lovely Wife™'s lower back.
Man, you look great.
Sorry I haven't complained about anything to you for so long. I will try to catch you up to all the wonderful and exciting stuff that has been going on in my life as of late.
Very little.
My Lovely Wife™ and I spent the Memorial Day Weekend mostly on our hands and knees in our yard. My garden now boasts green peppers, tomatoes, assorted herbs and spices, and a patch of mystery gourds: the result of my throwing a rotting bucket of Thanksgiving Day centerpiece offal into the planter as fertilizer and watching it go nuts.
I also got a path laid out from my back porch to my garden and it is pine-bark-a-fied. Progress has never looked so square!
My Lovely Wife™ spent her time in the front yard digging and weeding and setting up our front beds to look nice and proper. While doing so, she slathered suntan lotion on every visible inch of her body... except for her lower back. Fun fact about My Lovely Wife™: when she works, she looks like a sexy plumber... complete with an exposed lower back and a pretty impressive view of whatever panties she happens to be wearing that day.
After four hours in the sun, she has earned a pretty ridiculous-looking sunburn. It looks like two parenthesis if they were sideways. Turn your head and look at this: ( ) ... now picture it being cooked-lobster red and right above My Lovely Wife's shapely fanny.
She's in a lot of pain. I think it's hilarious. Mostly because I'm a jerk.
The up-side? I get to smear aloe and lotion all over my wife's butt about 6 times a day. EVERYBODY WINS!
In other news, there IS no other news. See why I haven't written? My life is too boring for you to be interested in.
Now kindly stop thinking about My Lovely Wife™'s lower back.
Friday, May 16, 2008
The Blog Where I Get Political, Part I
We are 6 months away and I am already sick of this shit.
I just spent a mere 10 minutes on YouTube, listening to left-wing and right-wing dipsticks take a grand shit all over each other in order to get the world out that anyone who might ascend to the White House next year is going to pretty much trigger an apocalypse.
All I can say at this point is this:
SHADDUP! SHADDUP SHADDUP SHADDUP!!
No matter who wins the election: we will be better off than we have been for the last eight years.
My name is Ryan Williams and I endorse this message.
OH! Our homeowners association had their annual meeting last night. There were two spots open on the board and I got nominated and elected. It's incredibly strange to me- thinking that I am a board-member of an organization. Those guys are in for a hell of a lot of trouble.
I just spent a mere 10 minutes on YouTube, listening to left-wing and right-wing dipsticks take a grand shit all over each other in order to get the world out that anyone who might ascend to the White House next year is going to pretty much trigger an apocalypse.
All I can say at this point is this:
SHADDUP! SHADDUP SHADDUP SHADDUP!!
No matter who wins the election: we will be better off than we have been for the last eight years.
My name is Ryan Williams and I endorse this message.
OH! Our homeowners association had their annual meeting last night. There were two spots open on the board and I got nominated and elected. It's incredibly strange to me- thinking that I am a board-member of an organization. Those guys are in for a hell of a lot of trouble.
Sunday, May 04, 2008
Civic Duty
Friday My Lovely Wife™ and I found ourselves over at the local Honda dealership.
She bought a Civic 3 or 4 years ago, based mostly on Consumer Reports' recommendation. I have been jealous of it for quite a while, as I have been driving an Exorcist-puke-green Nissan Sentra since '03 and I hate it. 'Solange' was clunky, she creaked, and her belts and joints were starting to slip.
We do most of our traveling in my car, because I am a control freak and I prefer to drive (also because My Lovely Wife™ drives like she's living in an incarnation of Grand Theft Auto... and yes, I have seen her actually kill a hooker who just restored her heart meter to 100%... IN REAL LIFE) we end up putting the bulk of our mileage onto whatever I am currently in charge of.
So when our booger-green/gold Nissan was flirting with 100,000 miles, I started to get antsy about getting a new car. A NEW car. I'm 33 years old and I have been driving used ones since I was 16. NEW. No miles on it. A car where the first seat-cushion fart will be MINE.
There's something that you should know about My Lovely Wife™, when it comes to making a major purchase; she's very difficult to convince. She will go without buying microwave popcorn if it is more than $3 a box. Any mention of spending a few hundred on a TV set or a new lens for my camera sends her into overdrive.
BUT- she IS an accountant. And one thing that an accountant can never resist is a low interest rate.
Seriously. Draw a pentagram onto your floor with a stick of chalk. Drop a slide-rule on the north point and write "4.7% APR for 30 Months" in the center of it. My wife will appear in your home with a burning ledger in her left hand and a roll of adding machine tape in her right.
She had NO intention of letting us get a new car this weekend. But we test drove 3 or 4 of them anyway, just to get a feel.
When the Honda dealership offered her 2.9% Financing for a 2008 Civic or Accord, her eyes popped out of her skull and her hair stood on end.
For normal people, I am just trying to explain that we got a hell of a deal.
I picked the 08' Civic EX. Its' not as 'showy' (read: vain) as the Accord. But it's packed with features and it's the sexiest gray/silver/charcoal color ever made. Our guy 'gave' us the sun roof visor, door guards, splash guards and trunk liner for free, and I spent an hour scraping the double pinstripe off the sides of it, because pin stripes are dumb.
It's a fucking awesome car.
I call it Ezra. Because I name my stuff.
Ryan's happy.
She bought a Civic 3 or 4 years ago, based mostly on Consumer Reports' recommendation. I have been jealous of it for quite a while, as I have been driving an Exorcist-puke-green Nissan Sentra since '03 and I hate it. 'Solange' was clunky, she creaked, and her belts and joints were starting to slip.
We do most of our traveling in my car, because I am a control freak and I prefer to drive (also because My Lovely Wife™ drives like she's living in an incarnation of Grand Theft Auto... and yes, I have seen her actually kill a hooker who just restored her heart meter to 100%... IN REAL LIFE) we end up putting the bulk of our mileage onto whatever I am currently in charge of.
So when our booger-green/gold Nissan was flirting with 100,000 miles, I started to get antsy about getting a new car. A NEW car. I'm 33 years old and I have been driving used ones since I was 16. NEW. No miles on it. A car where the first seat-cushion fart will be MINE.
There's something that you should know about My Lovely Wife™, when it comes to making a major purchase; she's very difficult to convince. She will go without buying microwave popcorn if it is more than $3 a box. Any mention of spending a few hundred on a TV set or a new lens for my camera sends her into overdrive.
BUT- she IS an accountant. And one thing that an accountant can never resist is a low interest rate.
Seriously. Draw a pentagram onto your floor with a stick of chalk. Drop a slide-rule on the north point and write "4.7% APR for 30 Months" in the center of it. My wife will appear in your home with a burning ledger in her left hand and a roll of adding machine tape in her right.
She had NO intention of letting us get a new car this weekend. But we test drove 3 or 4 of them anyway, just to get a feel.
When the Honda dealership offered her 2.9% Financing for a 2008 Civic or Accord, her eyes popped out of her skull and her hair stood on end.
For normal people, I am just trying to explain that we got a hell of a deal.
I picked the 08' Civic EX. Its' not as 'showy' (read: vain) as the Accord. But it's packed with features and it's the sexiest gray/silver/charcoal color ever made. Our guy 'gave' us the sun roof visor, door guards, splash guards and trunk liner for free, and I spent an hour scraping the double pinstripe off the sides of it, because pin stripes are dumb.
It's a fucking awesome car.
I call it Ezra. Because I name my stuff.
Ryan's happy.
Thursday, May 01, 2008
Coffee Break
Ha!
Someone at work is hilarious.
I don't know if this is an old thing and if I have just never seen it before, but I was grabbing coffee in my break room a few minutes ago and I was staring blankly at the 'you have to post this in your work area break room' board. You know the 'how to help a choking guy out' poster?
Someone (brilliantly) put this on it (click for big):
Like I said, I dunno if this is an old internet meme that I missed or if it's just someone's subtle attempt at humor.
If so, whomever it is in my office who is fucking funny enough to put that on the poster and not draw attention to it: I salute you!
Someone at work is hilarious.
I don't know if this is an old thing and if I have just never seen it before, but I was grabbing coffee in my break room a few minutes ago and I was staring blankly at the 'you have to post this in your work area break room' board. You know the 'how to help a choking guy out' poster?
Someone (brilliantly) put this on it (click for big):
Like I said, I dunno if this is an old internet meme that I missed or if it's just someone's subtle attempt at humor.
If so, whomever it is in my office who is fucking funny enough to put that on the poster and not draw attention to it: I salute you!
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
That's Four...
Four years ago Alison and I got into the car and took off to Florida. We go to Destin just about every year and sit on the beach and eat too much and live like typical upper-middle-class white Americans.
We stopped in Santa Rosa beach and got married. We planned it, but tried not to make a big deal out of it or build it up inside. But we did anyway.
Neither of us have much religion, or use for it. Luckily, Alison isn't one of the uncountable masses of women in the world who think that Their Wedding Day needs to be a 5-star affair involving bands, white horses, shiny party favors, doves, dollar-dances, bride-and-dad pictures, 13-story cakes, and guest books.
We stood in a courthouse and got married without hundreds of dollars of makeup and hair. I had a red Hawaiian shirt and jeans on. She wore a pretty red blouse that made her look like a hippie chick, which she is. And we got married without our folks knowing about it. The witness was a clerk with hockey hair and jean shorts. Our J.O.P. was in an orange crop-top and she had a little bit of a lisp.
Aside from the rings we smuggled to the event, the whole thing cost us $110.
It was awesome.
I complain and make fun of My Lovely Wife™ all the time when I blog. I do it because I am grateful to have a Lovely Wife™ like her. I had little-to-no
interest in getting married after I left college and left a relationship that was particularly difficult for me to get over and past. I think Alison knew that, considering we were together for about 6 years before the trip to the courthouse. But I really need to say it: I dig the hell out of Alison, and she's really the only lady in the world who I would WANT to be married to.That's about as sentimental or mushy as I am capable of getting. It's very difficult for me to gush over someone. I'm not the kind of person who thinks that 'love' is some sort of overwhelming force that controls our actions or that heals any sort of problems that two people might have without it.
But it certainly makes it easier to be happy when it's there.
This whole entry would probably be a lot more touching if I didn't mention that I am listening to a Samantha Fox song on my iTunes as I type this.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Elitism
Ahem (taps microphone, draws breath)...
elitist
noun
Someone who believes in rule by an elite group.
Let's go a bit further...
e·lit·ism or é·lit·ism
noun
The belief that certain persons or members of certain classes or groups deserve favored treatment by virtue of their perceived superiority, as in intellect, social status, or financial resources.
-The sense of entitlement enjoyed by such a group or class.
-Control, rule, or domination by such a group or class.
I wanted everyone to know what the words meant, since they are throwing it around the same way we threw around 'Communist' in the 50's and 'Freedom' in 2001-2002.
If you have had more than a single beer with me at any given time, you probably have gotten at least HALf of my fumbling attempt to explain my 'Cult of The Ignorant' theory.
That's my well-shared belief that we encourage each other for being stupid, that we celebrate ignorance, and that we even go as far as to reward the criminally moronic as being icons that we wish not only to emulate, but that we look up to in order to feel like we belong.
The list of examples is, sadly, a mile long. Highlights include the following:
Jackass
Rock Of Love
Viva La Bam
Paris Hilton
Lindsey Lohan
Owen Wilson
Ben Stiller
Jessica Simpson
Brooke Hogan
Amy Winehouse
Heidi Montague
Britney Spears
Matthew Mchau... Mac... fuck, the guy who always takes his shirt off.
This isn't a list of people, movies and shows that I have a particular problem with. It is a list of people who are considered on a constant basis by the media to be celebrity-worthy. And each has, in the last 6 months, done at least one or two incurably stupid things that the media has jumped on. And so have we, as consumers.
This entire campaign against Obama, this angle that he is 'elitist', smacks more strongly of hoedown politics than anything I have ever witnessed. It's straight out of a schoolyard playground or a scene from Idiocracy: "What are ya tryin' ta be? Some kinds ed-e-cated faggit? Smartypants Mcgoo?! We don't take kindly ta people comin' in hare n' puttin' on aires!!"
WE LIVE IN A FUCKING REPUBLIC, PEOPLE!
In a Republic, we elect officials who are brought in to make decisions FOR us, based on our needs and goals.
Has the last 8 years worth of brainwashing us into thinking that a sweet-faced "good 'ol boy" is the best our country can elect as a leader?
Are we THAT afraid of bringing in a person who might have our best interests in mind as a country?
I'm really fucking annoyed at this crap. If the worst you can do is imply that a candidate is a better man than most other Americans... (shakes head in anger).
I don't endorse any candidate. I am still on the fence about a lot of stuff concerning this upcoming election. I hope you are, too. It's too soon to align yourself with a particular candidate. there are too many things to consider.
But what I HOPE you will start doing, if you haven't already, is that I hope you will start looking at 'news and information' regarding each candidate as it surfaces, and I hope you will start thinking to yourself: "Did the rival campaign/party put this out there? Is this the BEST they can do to smear their opponent?"
Jon Stewart said it best the other night:
"Not only do I want an elite president, I want someone who's embarrassingly superior to me."
So do I.
I am sick of catering to idiots and masses of people who are proud to be ignorant and downright stupid.
elitist
noun
Someone who believes in rule by an elite group.
Let's go a bit further...
e·lit·ism or é·lit·ism
noun
The belief that certain persons or members of certain classes or groups deserve favored treatment by virtue of their perceived superiority, as in intellect, social status, or financial resources.
-The sense of entitlement enjoyed by such a group or class.
-Control, rule, or domination by such a group or class.
I wanted everyone to know what the words meant, since they are throwing it around the same way we threw around 'Communist' in the 50's and 'Freedom' in 2001-2002.
If you have had more than a single beer with me at any given time, you probably have gotten at least HALf of my fumbling attempt to explain my 'Cult of The Ignorant' theory.
That's my well-shared belief that we encourage each other for being stupid, that we celebrate ignorance, and that we even go as far as to reward the criminally moronic as being icons that we wish not only to emulate, but that we look up to in order to feel like we belong.
The list of examples is, sadly, a mile long. Highlights include the following:
Jackass
Rock Of Love
Viva La Bam
Paris Hilton
Lindsey Lohan
Owen Wilson
Ben Stiller
Jessica Simpson
Brooke Hogan
Amy Winehouse
Heidi Montague
Britney Spears
Matthew Mchau... Mac... fuck, the guy who always takes his shirt off.
This isn't a list of people, movies and shows that I have a particular problem with. It is a list of people who are considered on a constant basis by the media to be celebrity-worthy. And each has, in the last 6 months, done at least one or two incurably stupid things that the media has jumped on. And so have we, as consumers.
This entire campaign against Obama, this angle that he is 'elitist', smacks more strongly of hoedown politics than anything I have ever witnessed. It's straight out of a schoolyard playground or a scene from Idiocracy: "What are ya tryin' ta be? Some kinds ed-e-cated faggit? Smartypants Mcgoo?! We don't take kindly ta people comin' in hare n' puttin' on aires!!"
WE LIVE IN A FUCKING REPUBLIC, PEOPLE!
In a Republic, we elect officials who are brought in to make decisions FOR us, based on our needs and goals.
Has the last 8 years worth of brainwashing us into thinking that a sweet-faced "good 'ol boy" is the best our country can elect as a leader?
Are we THAT afraid of bringing in a person who might have our best interests in mind as a country?
I'm really fucking annoyed at this crap. If the worst you can do is imply that a candidate is a better man than most other Americans... (shakes head in anger).
I don't endorse any candidate. I am still on the fence about a lot of stuff concerning this upcoming election. I hope you are, too. It's too soon to align yourself with a particular candidate. there are too many things to consider.
But what I HOPE you will start doing, if you haven't already, is that I hope you will start looking at 'news and information' regarding each candidate as it surfaces, and I hope you will start thinking to yourself: "Did the rival campaign/party put this out there? Is this the BEST they can do to smear their opponent?"
Jon Stewart said it best the other night:
"Not only do I want an elite president, I want someone who's embarrassingly superior to me."
So do I.
I am sick of catering to idiots and masses of people who are proud to be ignorant and downright stupid.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Chuck's Budd
Chuck is a Silver Maple that started out when I thumbed a helicopter seed into the ground. It was at the first apartment that My Lovely Wife™ (at the time she was still My Lovely Girlfriend™) had in Nashville. Two years later we moved into a condo and I brought the 17-Inch-Tall 'Chuck' with us, and I planted him behind our condo near our fence.
Well, eventually we moved from the condo to our current home. When we left, I was a little bit distressed because I was so proud of the fact that Chuck started out as a seedling and he was easily 6 or 7 feet tall by then. I mentioned my concern to a good friend of mine named Craig Smith, who understood completely and who selflessly came to my condo one Saturday Afternoon and dug up Chuck's root ball. He kept it at his home for several months while they built our house, and afterwards he sacrificed ANOTHER Saturday hauling Chuck out of his yard and into mine.
That was 3 years ago, and Chuck is about 10 or 12 feet tall now. This week he woke back up and is starting to get busy again.
I'm very, very fond of Chuck.
Well, eventually we moved from the condo to our current home. When we left, I was a little bit distressed because I was so proud of the fact that Chuck started out as a seedling and he was easily 6 or 7 feet tall by then. I mentioned my concern to a good friend of mine named Craig Smith, who understood completely and who selflessly came to my condo one Saturday Afternoon and dug up Chuck's root ball. He kept it at his home for several months while they built our house, and afterwards he sacrificed ANOTHER Saturday hauling Chuck out of his yard and into mine.
That was 3 years ago, and Chuck is about 10 or 12 feet tall now. This week he woke back up and is starting to get busy again.
I'm very, very fond of Chuck.
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
Hanzo
This is Hanzo. He is the world's greatest salesman.
Hanzo won us over by sitting on our back porch and meowing at the door for hours on end. He didn't want food, we gave him plenty of that even though he was a stray and we knew what it would lead to. He just wanted to be petted and loved.
So we did.
Now, he's a house cat; one of four (his salesmanship got him in the house alongside his snowy-white brother, Pai Mei). And he's the one who will climb up your leg, just so you will pick him up and carry him around with you.
Hanzo's a pretty good cat.
Hanzo won us over by sitting on our back porch and meowing at the door for hours on end. He didn't want food, we gave him plenty of that even though he was a stray and we knew what it would lead to. He just wanted to be petted and loved.
So we did.
Now, he's a house cat; one of four (his salesmanship got him in the house alongside his snowy-white brother, Pai Mei). And he's the one who will climb up your leg, just so you will pick him up and carry him around with you.
Hanzo's a pretty good cat.
Breffast
Here’s what you need to know about today’s entry:
1. I’m still trying to maintain my South Beach lifestyle by eating a consistent breakfast. In my case: a hard-boiled egg and a can of V-8 every morning at 10.
2. My Lovely Wife™ is a hippie-chick. Not one of the annoying Late 1960’s Love Child types, but the sexy and exciting 1963 post-Beat Generation mod types who doesn’t care about macramé and bell bottoms but loves being nice to Mother Earth.
3. I am vowing to take a photo a day for a month, just to give myself something to work for.
Okay. Now we can blog.
This was breakfast. My Lovely Wife™ insists on buying farm-fresh, cage-free, vegetarian-fed eggs (all of which I am all-for).
I rarely get one with spots, though. I sort of feel like I am eating a tiny dinosaur egg.
Taking a picture of it was the least I could do, considering this guy’s mum laid it with the best intentions of procreation and here I am about to put it in mah belleh.
NOM NOM NOM.
1. I’m still trying to maintain my South Beach lifestyle by eating a consistent breakfast. In my case: a hard-boiled egg and a can of V-8 every morning at 10.
2. My Lovely Wife™ is a hippie-chick. Not one of the annoying Late 1960’s Love Child types, but the sexy and exciting 1963 post-Beat Generation mod types who doesn’t care about macramé and bell bottoms but loves being nice to Mother Earth.
3. I am vowing to take a photo a day for a month, just to give myself something to work for.
Okay. Now we can blog.
This was breakfast. My Lovely Wife™ insists on buying farm-fresh, cage-free, vegetarian-fed eggs (all of which I am all-for).
I rarely get one with spots, though. I sort of feel like I am eating a tiny dinosaur egg.
Taking a picture of it was the least I could do, considering this guy’s mum laid it with the best intentions of procreation and here I am about to put it in mah belleh.
NOM NOM NOM.
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