I'm willing to admit when I've been wrong. Previously, I scoffed at the idea of seeing the movie Knowing. Now, having seen it, I apologize to all of my friends who knew better. Most of all, I apologize to Nicolas Cage for ever doubting him. Let me break it down like this:
If you want to see a good movie, do not see Knowing.
If you want to see a great movie, absolutely do not see Knowing.
If, however, you want to see an AMAZING movie, then this is the movie for you. Where does the awesomeness start, you ask? Sure, it's got Nic Cage's ridiculous over-acting. (Witness him bashing a baseball bat against a tree and shouting, "You want a piece of this?" at the aliens. Then try not to die laughing.) But that's just the tip of the good-ass iceberg. You want flaming elk? You got it. How about alien angels? Done. Nic Cage running around looking bewildered? Hell yeah there is. But what about math, you ask? Believe me, there's math. There's shitloads of math.
What more do you need?
Thursday, April 09, 2009
Sunday, April 05, 2009
Another Way to Ride Dirty
Ever heard the song "Come On Get Higher" by Matt Nathanson? It's that same type of pleasant little acoustic rock song that gets so much play these days on the pop stations, the type that I just can't stand. At first glance, it's all about love and faith, presented in a syrupy sweet package of earnestness. At second glance, however, it's about something quite different. At least I think so, anyway. I'm going to post some lyrics, you tell me if you agree:
"Come on get higher
loosen my lips
faith and desire
and the swing of your hips
just pull me down hard
and drown me in love
I feel the pull of your heart
I taste the sparks on your tongue
I see angels and devils and god when you come on
hold on...
come on get higher
loosen my lips
faith and desire
and the swing of your hips
just pull me down hard
and drown me in love
come on get higher
loosen my lips
faith and desire
and the swing of your hips
just pull me down hard
and drown me
drown me in love
it's all wrong
it's all wrong
it's all wrong, its so right."
Okay, now take another look, and try to tell me this song's not about cunnilingus.
Because it totally is.
"Come on get higher
loosen my lips
faith and desire
and the swing of your hips
just pull me down hard
and drown me in love
I feel the pull of your heart
I taste the sparks on your tongue
I see angels and devils and god when you come on
hold on...
come on get higher
loosen my lips
faith and desire
and the swing of your hips
just pull me down hard
and drown me in love
come on get higher
loosen my lips
faith and desire
and the swing of your hips
just pull me down hard
and drown me
drown me in love
it's all wrong
it's all wrong
it's all wrong, its so right."
Okay, now take another look, and try to tell me this song's not about cunnilingus.
Because it totally is.
Friday, April 03, 2009
Ultimate My Ass
I'm sure you've all noticed a changing landscape regarding the sizing/labelling of products over the past 5 years or so. Like fast food chains that dropped the term "small," and now they have large, extra large, and colon-buster. I can understand that, as this is America, dammit, and we don't want no small nothin'. Then there's Starbucks, with sizes tall, grande, and venti. Of course, "tall" actually refers to small, and "grande" is medium. Same concept, only trendier, I guess.
But how about labels that just don't make sense? Today I stopped at a gas station/car wash. There were four different levels of car-washing I could choose from. From lowest quality wash to highest, those levels were labelled as follows:
1. Deluxe Wash
2. Ultimate Wash
3. Triple Wash
4. Extreme Wash
So here's the deal. You want to start with "deluxe" rather than "basic" or the like? I understand that. Deluxe just sounds better, and that's the point. But from deluxe, you move up to "ultimate." Here's where it gets problemmatic. How can something described as "ultimate" be only third best? Did the people who designed this system not know what "ultimate" means? Try the following: not to be improved upon or surpassed; greatest; unsurpassed. In other words, they are claiming to improve upon something that they also imply cannot possibly be improved upon. How, you ask? Do it a third time. Seems like if something has already been done perfectly, doing it a third time does nothing. The law of diminishing returns has to come into play.
And don't even get me started on "extreme." Maybe whoever designed this was just a fan of Harold and Kumar. Still, as a wise man once said, "read a book, nigga."
But how about labels that just don't make sense? Today I stopped at a gas station/car wash. There were four different levels of car-washing I could choose from. From lowest quality wash to highest, those levels were labelled as follows:
1. Deluxe Wash
2. Ultimate Wash
3. Triple Wash
4. Extreme Wash
So here's the deal. You want to start with "deluxe" rather than "basic" or the like? I understand that. Deluxe just sounds better, and that's the point. But from deluxe, you move up to "ultimate." Here's where it gets problemmatic. How can something described as "ultimate" be only third best? Did the people who designed this system not know what "ultimate" means? Try the following: not to be improved upon or surpassed; greatest; unsurpassed. In other words, they are claiming to improve upon something that they also imply cannot possibly be improved upon. How, you ask? Do it a third time. Seems like if something has already been done perfectly, doing it a third time does nothing. The law of diminishing returns has to come into play.
And don't even get me started on "extreme." Maybe whoever designed this was just a fan of Harold and Kumar. Still, as a wise man once said, "read a book, nigga."
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
The Finer Things
Today I've taken a moment to reflect on one of the best parts of my move to Madison a few years back. There are several, of course, not the least of which are (1) my fiancee, (2) my friends, and (3) my job. Next on that list may have to be food. Now, this is not to say that before coming to Madison, I did not eat food. Some may claim that I didn't eat "real" food -- i.e. that I ate only fast food, junk food, and packaged food. This is largely true, though I did grow up with home-cooked meals and parents who tried desperately to get me to eat vegetables. But that's really not the point either. Nor is the point that after coming here, I branched out from the All-American diet to eat a wide(r) variety of foods, such as sushi, Indian food, Tex-Mex food, gyros, and (all thanks to Mr. Utah) cheap Chinese food. And even the occasional salad.
The real point I'm trying to make is that before coming here, I didn't know the correct way to enjoy the foods I liked. And I'll thank my friends for setting me straight on these. Here are some expamples of what I'm talking about:
Steak - Before I came here, I didn't give much regard to how a steak was cooked. Steak was steak, and always welcome unless it was rare. I assumed rare was gross, based primarily on the common hyperboles (serve it bloody; knock its horns off, wipe its ass, put it down on my plate, etc.). I believed that A-1 was a necessity to really enjoy steak. But now I know better. Now I know well done doesn't translate to done better. In fact, I know that any steak cooked beyond medium rare may as well be a blackened lump of shit. And I know that steak sauce, while tasty, is never necessary unless you're eating a terrible steak. And if it's that bad, what's the point?
Ranch - Back in Oshkosh, ranch was just a dressing. Here, it's the wonder condiment. Got a burger and fries, but no ketchup? Dip 'em in ranch. Got a pizza that's perfectly fine on its own? Dip it in ranch. Now it tastes twice as good. Got a mystery meat that's been in the fridge for an untold number of months, and no money for other food? Dip that fucker in ranch. Now it's gourmet. I cringe when I think of how many times I'd be stuck at home with a fridge full of food and a bottle of ranch, but never thought to start picking things at random and seeing what happened rather than resorting to another box of mac and cheese. Or at least, never having slathered the mac and cheese in ranch. Now that's an idea...
Which brings me to the main event -
Cheese - Before law school, my world involved four kinds of cheese: cheddar (yellow cheese), mozarella (white cheese), parmesan in a shaker (ground cheese), and cheese curds (yellow or white). I knew there were other cheeses out there, but they were so strange and foreign, I never really strayed from the big 4. And why bother? Yellow cheese went with everything. It was mild and pleasant and worked with 95% of my cheese cravings. Mozarella was strictly for pizzas, and parmesan was to only supplement the mozarella. Cheese curds were strange and exotic, a luxury item my parents brought back on occasion. I had tried others, of course. Blue cheese was gross. Sharp cheddar tasted funny. Anything else was just a minor variation on yellow cheese. So no need to venture elsewhere.
Then I came here and saw the light. People swore by sharp cheddar, so I gave it another shot. Turns out, it was just like the yellow cheese, only you could actually taste it. And it was damn good. Also, there's an actual block of cheese called parmesan. It doesn't just come in a shaker. And the cheese block is a billion times better. Blue cheese is like a flavor injection for steaks, burgers, and wings. Plus, all the other cheeses have their place for different occasions. Now, one of my favorite past times is hitting up the local Brennans and sampling 10-20 different cheese and cracker combinations.
And that's the real point - if I had never come here, I may have lived my whole life without discovering these things. So I just wanted to say thanks to all my friends and the wisdom they've imparted. Here's hoping I can return the favor some day.
The real point I'm trying to make is that before coming here, I didn't know the correct way to enjoy the foods I liked. And I'll thank my friends for setting me straight on these. Here are some expamples of what I'm talking about:
Steak - Before I came here, I didn't give much regard to how a steak was cooked. Steak was steak, and always welcome unless it was rare. I assumed rare was gross, based primarily on the common hyperboles (serve it bloody; knock its horns off, wipe its ass, put it down on my plate, etc.). I believed that A-1 was a necessity to really enjoy steak. But now I know better. Now I know well done doesn't translate to done better. In fact, I know that any steak cooked beyond medium rare may as well be a blackened lump of shit. And I know that steak sauce, while tasty, is never necessary unless you're eating a terrible steak. And if it's that bad, what's the point?
Ranch - Back in Oshkosh, ranch was just a dressing. Here, it's the wonder condiment. Got a burger and fries, but no ketchup? Dip 'em in ranch. Got a pizza that's perfectly fine on its own? Dip it in ranch. Now it tastes twice as good. Got a mystery meat that's been in the fridge for an untold number of months, and no money for other food? Dip that fucker in ranch. Now it's gourmet. I cringe when I think of how many times I'd be stuck at home with a fridge full of food and a bottle of ranch, but never thought to start picking things at random and seeing what happened rather than resorting to another box of mac and cheese. Or at least, never having slathered the mac and cheese in ranch. Now that's an idea...
Which brings me to the main event -
Cheese - Before law school, my world involved four kinds of cheese: cheddar (yellow cheese), mozarella (white cheese), parmesan in a shaker (ground cheese), and cheese curds (yellow or white). I knew there were other cheeses out there, but they were so strange and foreign, I never really strayed from the big 4. And why bother? Yellow cheese went with everything. It was mild and pleasant and worked with 95% of my cheese cravings. Mozarella was strictly for pizzas, and parmesan was to only supplement the mozarella. Cheese curds were strange and exotic, a luxury item my parents brought back on occasion. I had tried others, of course. Blue cheese was gross. Sharp cheddar tasted funny. Anything else was just a minor variation on yellow cheese. So no need to venture elsewhere.
Then I came here and saw the light. People swore by sharp cheddar, so I gave it another shot. Turns out, it was just like the yellow cheese, only you could actually taste it. And it was damn good. Also, there's an actual block of cheese called parmesan. It doesn't just come in a shaker. And the cheese block is a billion times better. Blue cheese is like a flavor injection for steaks, burgers, and wings. Plus, all the other cheeses have their place for different occasions. Now, one of my favorite past times is hitting up the local Brennans and sampling 10-20 different cheese and cracker combinations.
And that's the real point - if I had never come here, I may have lived my whole life without discovering these things. So I just wanted to say thanks to all my friends and the wisdom they've imparted. Here's hoping I can return the favor some day.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Right...
Quote of the day:
My fiancee, trying to sell me on seeing the new Nicolas Cage move:
"It's going to be like National Treasure, but with more math."
My fiancee, trying to sell me on seeing the new Nicolas Cage move:
"It's going to be like National Treasure, but with more math."
Monday, March 09, 2009
Truthiness
Just caught the Colbert Report from March 5th. In case you missed it, the Tip of the Hat/Wag of the Finger section was brilliant. Here Colbert applauds Rush Limbaugh for re-writing the Constitution, then scolds Sean Hannity for whatever theoretical comment Hannity must have made to lead Hannity to begin praising all things Rush. Colbert then divines what that theoretical comment must have been, and it's a doozy. Watch below.
Or, if you don't have the patience for that, here it is:
"I mean to warrant obsequious crack-licking like that, he must have said something terrible," theorized Colbert of Hannity's praise. "I mean -- something like the vacuum in Republican leadership has allowed a mean-spirited, lard-assed talk radio host to become the de facto leader which is turning an already crippled party into a bickering laughingstock."
Or, if you don't have the patience for that, here it is:
"I mean to warrant obsequious crack-licking like that, he must have said something terrible," theorized Colbert of Hannity's praise. "I mean -- something like the vacuum in Republican leadership has allowed a mean-spirited, lard-assed talk radio host to become the de facto leader which is turning an already crippled party into a bickering laughingstock."
Thursday, March 05, 2009
Quote of the Day
"But in America, if you want to spend some time with the ladies, you gotta show 'em some sausage."
Dave, Flight of the Conchords
Dave, Flight of the Conchords
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
...And We're Back!
In case you haven't heard, I got my data back thanks to a $15 part and a simple "chkdsk" command. So my book is back, and the bazillion hours I've spent on it have not been for naught.
Also, I have this to say for the Geek Squad: Although I appreciate your efforts, it really would have been considerate of you to GO FUCK YOURSELVES, YOU FUCKING WORTHLESS FUCKS!
That's all I have to say about that.
*It comes to my attention that "I'm on a Boat" starts playing every time someone loads this page. I can change that so it doesn't happen, if people want.
*On second thought, I don't care.
Also, I have this to say for the Geek Squad: Although I appreciate your efforts, it really would have been considerate of you to GO FUCK YOURSELVES, YOU FUCKING WORTHLESS FUCKS!
That's all I have to say about that.
*It comes to my attention that "I'm on a Boat" starts playing every time someone loads this page. I can change that so it doesn't happen, if people want.
*On second thought, I don't care.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Crashed
Sometimes things fall apart. Or so I've been told, at any rate. I won't even begin to talk about my life being hard, because it's not. My life is a breeze. Bad things rarely happen. But when they do happen, they tend to cluster. Like last Friday night. My laptop crashed on Wednesday, to the point where it said there was no operating system. Against my better judgment, I took it to the Geek Squad at Best Buy to get it fixed. I requested the data back-up for $100 because, like I complete dolt, I hadn't backed up my book in awhile. Months, in fact. But, no biggie, I'd just pay my money and get my shit back. Right?
I should have known better. Friday I went to pick up my data. I've already had issues with getting data back from them in one piece, and I was ready for more shenigans this time. However, I was not ready for them to tell me they couldn't get my data, that it was corrupted.
My gut instinct was absolute panic. If I can't get my data back, I will have lost about 8 chapters worth of revisions, which equals about 100 pages, or about 80 hours worth of work. I will essentially be back at sqaure one on my second draft. It's my fault for not backing it up regularly, but for realz - I was ready to tear skulls from bodies when that guy said my data was corrupted. So I calmly left the store, got back in my car, and screamed until my throat was hoarse.
I basically sped out of the parking lot, and immediately realized that driving while enraged was a bad idea (especially considering how driving in general can be a bad idea for me). So I took a deep breath, slowed down, put my seat belt on, and started driving cautiously.....
And then promptly got into a car accident.
Not even my fault, if you can imagine that. Some chick totally pulled out in front of me and another car, trying to pull a left turn right in front of us. We both slammed on our brakes, but I did it a little too late. The only real damage was to my bumper, no injuries, so no big deal. But not a good experience. And not a good night
Anyway, the dust has cleared a bit. I may yet get my data back. My car will be fixed by the girl's insurance. I will someday have my revenge on Best Buy.
Moral of the story? If I had to pick one, I'd say that if something's important to you, make sure to keep it safe.
If I had to pick two, I'd add that you should never trust the fucking Geek Squad.
I should have known better. Friday I went to pick up my data. I've already had issues with getting data back from them in one piece, and I was ready for more shenigans this time. However, I was not ready for them to tell me they couldn't get my data, that it was corrupted.
My gut instinct was absolute panic. If I can't get my data back, I will have lost about 8 chapters worth of revisions, which equals about 100 pages, or about 80 hours worth of work. I will essentially be back at sqaure one on my second draft. It's my fault for not backing it up regularly, but for realz - I was ready to tear skulls from bodies when that guy said my data was corrupted. So I calmly left the store, got back in my car, and screamed until my throat was hoarse.
I basically sped out of the parking lot, and immediately realized that driving while enraged was a bad idea (especially considering how driving in general can be a bad idea for me). So I took a deep breath, slowed down, put my seat belt on, and started driving cautiously.....
And then promptly got into a car accident.
Not even my fault, if you can imagine that. Some chick totally pulled out in front of me and another car, trying to pull a left turn right in front of us. We both slammed on our brakes, but I did it a little too late. The only real damage was to my bumper, no injuries, so no big deal. But not a good experience. And not a good night
Anyway, the dust has cleared a bit. I may yet get my data back. My car will be fixed by the girl's insurance. I will someday have my revenge on Best Buy.
Moral of the story? If I had to pick one, I'd say that if something's important to you, make sure to keep it safe.
If I had to pick two, I'd add that you should never trust the fucking Geek Squad.
Monday, February 09, 2009
I Totally F***ed a Mermaid!
The "Dick in a Box" guys have done it again. Enjoy.
UPDATE - had to remove it. Couldn't hear Colbert.
UPDATE - had to remove it. Couldn't hear Colbert.
Sunday, February 08, 2009
Party Til OLR Shuts Us Down
I miss show business. It took me watching a high school show choir competition to realize it, but I really miss the lights and the stage and the crowds. I miss costumes and characters and making audiences laugh. I'm sick of being the 14-year old lawyer who doesn't talk much and works with the funny Mexican guy. I wanna be a star again.
So here's what I propose: for all of you who miss it too, join me. We'll do Law Revue: the Professional Years. We find a stage somewhere, grab a few props, and take aim at the practice of law. Instead of professors and students we'll mock judges and other attorneys. Your most clueless judge? Toast. Your most loathed DA? Toast. And let's not forget, the greatest source of legal comedy, clients. Glorious, glorious clients. We change the names to protect the incredibly guilty and incredibly dickish alike, and then we roll.
Sure, we'll be disbarred if anybody actually comes to watch us. But that's bound to happen anyway, right? Why not go down in a blaze of comic glory? Think of it as the "swallowing nitroglycerine" approach to picking up women. If we're going to fail, why not fail to the extreme?
No seriously, this could totally work. Who's with me?
So here's what I propose: for all of you who miss it too, join me. We'll do Law Revue: the Professional Years. We find a stage somewhere, grab a few props, and take aim at the practice of law. Instead of professors and students we'll mock judges and other attorneys. Your most clueless judge? Toast. Your most loathed DA? Toast. And let's not forget, the greatest source of legal comedy, clients. Glorious, glorious clients. We change the names to protect the incredibly guilty and incredibly dickish alike, and then we roll.
Sure, we'll be disbarred if anybody actually comes to watch us. But that's bound to happen anyway, right? Why not go down in a blaze of comic glory? Think of it as the "swallowing nitroglycerine" approach to picking up women. If we're going to fail, why not fail to the extreme?
No seriously, this could totally work. Who's with me?
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Once Again, It's On!
Shit's getting real for real on Battlestar Galactica once again. After a long hiatus, it finally came back a couple weeks ago to start it's final 10 episodes, which promised to be re-fucking-diculous. The first episode back was a bit maudlin, which was to be expected given how the last half-season ended, but still solid. The second epsiode was surprisingly blah, not really all that promising for how explosive the end of this series was supposed to be. But apparently the point of that episode was just to arrange the pieces for this last episode, which was fucking awesome. Probably one of the most exciting episodes of the series, and the best part - it's only the start of what's to come.
This is why I have difficulty answering what the best TV show ever was - I can't until I see how this show ends.
This is why I have difficulty answering what the best TV show ever was - I can't until I see how this show ends.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Tool Academy
I have never been a fan of reality television. Primarily because it just exposes the lowest common denominator of humanity. Generally just hearing the premise of the shows is enough to make me want to hurl. Also, I can't stand these shows because networks have chosen to inundate the airwaves with this schlock over scripted programs because reality shows are cheaper and easier to make. As a result, many quality television shows get axed in favor of fucking drivel. Plus, as I'm sure you all know, I have a general aversion to reality.
So as a general rule, I don't watch reality tv. Ever. But today I had to break that rule. VH1 has a new show called "Tool Academy," bringing together some of the douchiest douchebags this side of, well, the earth. Cockbags with handles like "Matsuflex" and "Mega" preen and pose and pontificate on their awesomeness, believing they are competing in a contest called "Mr. Awesome." Turns out they are being watched by their long-suffering girlfriends in a contest to see if any of them can stop being tools. Each week, the biggest remaining toolkit gets the boot. It's actually kind of...well, terrible. But as far as guilty pleasures go, it was fun to watch, and made me feel pretty good about myself.
So as a general rule, I don't watch reality tv. Ever. But today I had to break that rule. VH1 has a new show called "Tool Academy," bringing together some of the douchiest douchebags this side of, well, the earth. Cockbags with handles like "Matsuflex" and "Mega" preen and pose and pontificate on their awesomeness, believing they are competing in a contest called "Mr. Awesome." Turns out they are being watched by their long-suffering girlfriends in a contest to see if any of them can stop being tools. Each week, the biggest remaining toolkit gets the boot. It's actually kind of...well, terrible. But as far as guilty pleasures go, it was fun to watch, and made me feel pretty good about myself.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
The King of Cake is Dead
Have you ever been to a bridal expo? Unless you have a vagina, probably not. Bridal expos basically contain an endless series of booths presenting brides-to-be with possible caterers, photographers, invitation makers, dress makers, cake makers, reception halls, DJs, travel agencies, and anything and everything else wedding-related. And if you don't know, weddings are fucking expensive, so the people running the expos throw in drawings and raffles for free stuff at every stop, and then watch the crowds descend in droves.
Admittedly, I am not the manliest man that ever manned up to the world. I don't hunt, I don't drive a pickup, and I don't know the way to the gun show. However, that doesn't mean that I'm personally equipped with female genitalia. Nor do I have any interest in the general wedding planning business. I certainly care what my own wedding will look like, and I am more than willing to provide my input on things, and generally provide whatever help my bride-to-be would like.
Accordingly, being the supportive (and financially wanting) groom-to-be that I am, I agreed to accompany pH to a bridal expo this morning. I will say this - it wasn't horrifying. In fact, as an avid lover of cake and once-dubbed "King of Cake," I was dazzled by the bountiful cake samples available. So I went a little nuts. I sampled cake after cake after cake. And maybe I'm just off my game, but I started to get a little sick. I sampled cakes from the first 4-5 places or so. Then I started to get a lot sick. But the cake makers, they did not stop. At first, I began averting my eyes. Then I had to start running away. The King of Cake could handle no more.
So in the end, the worst part for me wasn't the endless weddingocity of it all.
It was the shame.
The King of Cake is dead. Long live the king.
Admittedly, I am not the manliest man that ever manned up to the world. I don't hunt, I don't drive a pickup, and I don't know the way to the gun show. However, that doesn't mean that I'm personally equipped with female genitalia. Nor do I have any interest in the general wedding planning business. I certainly care what my own wedding will look like, and I am more than willing to provide my input on things, and generally provide whatever help my bride-to-be would like.
Accordingly, being the supportive (and financially wanting) groom-to-be that I am, I agreed to accompany pH to a bridal expo this morning. I will say this - it wasn't horrifying. In fact, as an avid lover of cake and once-dubbed "King of Cake," I was dazzled by the bountiful cake samples available. So I went a little nuts. I sampled cake after cake after cake. And maybe I'm just off my game, but I started to get a little sick. I sampled cakes from the first 4-5 places or so. Then I started to get a lot sick. But the cake makers, they did not stop. At first, I began averting my eyes. Then I had to start running away. The King of Cake could handle no more.
So in the end, the worst part for me wasn't the endless weddingocity of it all.
It was the shame.
The King of Cake is dead. Long live the king.
Thursday, January 01, 2009
Bigger and Better
I'm not usually one to make New Year's resolutions, but this year I feel compelled. 2008 was a fantastic year for me. Well, every year has pretty much been fantastic for me, but this year especially. In order of magnitude, my biggest achievements for this past year:
1. Getting engaged
2. Starting a law firm
3. Completing the 1st draft of my novel
All big, all momentous. But life is all about moving onward and upward, right? So, here are my New Year's resolutions for 2009:
1. Get married
2. Start ANOTHER law firm
3. Complete the 2nd draft of my novel
And oh, what the hell...
4. Become a millionaire by August
Whatever happens, this promises to be another great year.
1. Getting engaged
2. Starting a law firm
3. Completing the 1st draft of my novel
All big, all momentous. But life is all about moving onward and upward, right? So, here are my New Year's resolutions for 2009:
1. Get married
2. Start ANOTHER law firm
3. Complete the 2nd draft of my novel
And oh, what the hell...
4. Become a millionaire by August
Whatever happens, this promises to be another great year.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
I Hate Crappy Weather, Except When it Totally Works in My Favor
I hate snow. I hate snow so bad I'd like to spend an afternoon taking every single snowflake in existence and stabbing it with a trident. It makes driving, one of my favorite pasttimes, a complete hassle. Moreover, driving is such a necessity for me - I drive everywhere, all the time, and when it snows, driving becomes nearly impossible for me. My car literally can't make it up a small, unplowed incline. When I sit at a poorly plowed intersection, I can't just accelerate into my lane. I sit there and spin my wheels, then realize I have to wait for the next round of cars to pass before I can go. 10 minute drives become 30 minute drives, and 30 minute drives become fuckin' eternity. I hate snow.
So I was supposed to do some work today, then grab PH and jump in the car and drive 3 hours through the stupid snow to go to Aurora, Illinois to see PH's family for Christmas Eve. Of course, 3 hours in the snow would become 4 hours pretty quickly, and my patience would run out probably 15 minutes into the drive, and that would be that. Instead, since the stupid snow made even attempting the drive a near impossibility, I got to spend the day doing a little final Christmas shopping, buying myself some comic books, working on the 2nd draft of my book, having dinner with PH at our apartment, watching 5 episodes of 30 Rock on dvd, drinking wine, exchanging presents, eating ice cream, and NOT having to drive 4 hours through the snow.
No offense whatsoever to PH's family, because I would have loved to see them. But still.
God, I love the snow.
So I was supposed to do some work today, then grab PH and jump in the car and drive 3 hours through the stupid snow to go to Aurora, Illinois to see PH's family for Christmas Eve. Of course, 3 hours in the snow would become 4 hours pretty quickly, and my patience would run out probably 15 minutes into the drive, and that would be that. Instead, since the stupid snow made even attempting the drive a near impossibility, I got to spend the day doing a little final Christmas shopping, buying myself some comic books, working on the 2nd draft of my book, having dinner with PH at our apartment, watching 5 episodes of 30 Rock on dvd, drinking wine, exchanging presents, eating ice cream, and NOT having to drive 4 hours through the snow.
No offense whatsoever to PH's family, because I would have loved to see them. But still.
God, I love the snow.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Quote of the Day
"But really, I'm fed up with the entire warlock community bitching about how fucked we are right now."
Tarknin: the New Quidditch
I had many dreams last night, some frustrating, some resulting in my death, some just oddly amusing. But there was one that was completely badass. Allow me to present the next great American past time:
Tarknin.
Tarknin is essentially a cross between hockey and lumberjacking. There is a circular arena with three teams and three large goals. There are no goalies. There are also no balls or pucks of any kind. No, Tarknin uses timber. I'm talking actual tree logs, varying in size. There are several logs on the arena at any given time. Each player has a staff or other object, and we use these staffs to corral the logs and propel them towards the goal. Every goal is worth two points.
In my dream, I got to play this game with and against friends for maybe ten minutes, and let me tell you, it was fan-fucking-tastic. And not just because I scored, launching a fifteen foot log across the arena and into our goal. The whole thing was just plain fun.
And more than that, after the game we all devised a sort of program for our Tarknin league. And when I say "we," I pretty much mean Mr. Utah designed the program. Accordingly, each player had a picture in the guide resembling themselves in the style of a World of Warcraft character. We each had badass nicknames, and some of us were depicted riding three of the four horses of the apocalypse. Only, one of them was a actually flaming orange firebear named "Hell."
Bottom line: football is for pussies.
Tarknin.
Tarknin is essentially a cross between hockey and lumberjacking. There is a circular arena with three teams and three large goals. There are no goalies. There are also no balls or pucks of any kind. No, Tarknin uses timber. I'm talking actual tree logs, varying in size. There are several logs on the arena at any given time. Each player has a staff or other object, and we use these staffs to corral the logs and propel them towards the goal. Every goal is worth two points.
In my dream, I got to play this game with and against friends for maybe ten minutes, and let me tell you, it was fan-fucking-tastic. And not just because I scored, launching a fifteen foot log across the arena and into our goal. The whole thing was just plain fun.
And more than that, after the game we all devised a sort of program for our Tarknin league. And when I say "we," I pretty much mean Mr. Utah designed the program. Accordingly, each player had a picture in the guide resembling themselves in the style of a World of Warcraft character. We each had badass nicknames, and some of us were depicted riding three of the four horses of the apocalypse. Only, one of them was a actually flaming orange firebear named "Hell."
Bottom line: football is for pussies.
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Health Food
Made the trip back to O-Town for Thanksgiving with my family. I've got a pretty small family, and many of them are in Florida this time of year, but there were more relatives in attendance than I had expected. That was a pleasant surprise.
My favorite part of Thanksgiving with my family may have been baking cookies. Dad had the great idea of having me, the fiancee, and my parents spend a couple hours after dinner making Christmas cookies. It was a nice activity, good chance to talk about wedding plans and everything else. But the cookies themselves left a bit to be desired. Being an avid cookie dough fiend, I sampled a little piece during the construction, and detected a distinct lack of sweetness. Now, I'm also a raging sugarholic, so lack of sugar to me is a pretty meaningless concept. So I didn't mention it to my parents, and continued on with the rolling and cutting. The dough was being a bit problemmatic in that regard, but eventually we got several trays of cookies done and into the oven.
But then the cookies came out of the oven, and one got eaten. Turns out I was right. Not a single cookie had even a smidge of sugar. Even slathering them with radioactive frosting couldn't save them.
Ultimately the entire batch made its way into the garbage. Only the frosting survived.
So you learn something new every day. I, for instance, now know how to make sugar-free Christmas cookies.
My favorite part of Thanksgiving with my family may have been baking cookies. Dad had the great idea of having me, the fiancee, and my parents spend a couple hours after dinner making Christmas cookies. It was a nice activity, good chance to talk about wedding plans and everything else. But the cookies themselves left a bit to be desired. Being an avid cookie dough fiend, I sampled a little piece during the construction, and detected a distinct lack of sweetness. Now, I'm also a raging sugarholic, so lack of sugar to me is a pretty meaningless concept. So I didn't mention it to my parents, and continued on with the rolling and cutting. The dough was being a bit problemmatic in that regard, but eventually we got several trays of cookies done and into the oven.
But then the cookies came out of the oven, and one got eaten. Turns out I was right. Not a single cookie had even a smidge of sugar. Even slathering them with radioactive frosting couldn't save them.
Ultimately the entire batch made its way into the garbage. Only the frosting survived.
So you learn something new every day. I, for instance, now know how to make sugar-free Christmas cookies.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Acts of War
Just when you thought the ceaseless, seemingly never-ending cycle of war and violence was about to end, Axl Rose comes along and launches an all-out assault on China.
The blame lies with all of us, really. The signs were all there, but we just too naive. I mean, the reports have been coming out for over seventeen years. Everyone said Axl Rose was working on something devastating, and China would be the target. I, for one, didn't believe it. I thought it was a myth. He had been underground for so long. Every once in awhile, a new report of progress came out. I figured he was just blustering, like all those other world powers who retire and fade into the sunset, but fire off some jingoistic comments every now and then to keep their rep alive. Axl Rose didn't have that kind of power anymore, I was sure of it.
Boy, was I wrong. Out of nowhere, Axl finally launched "Chinese Democracy." And the effects have been devastating. China has denounced it has a "venemous attack," claiming that Guns 'N Roses had "turned its spear point on China," and that this was part of a plot to "grasp and control the world."
As of 7:00 eastern standard time, nearly 45 million Chinese have been killed and another 760 million wounded as a result of this shameless and unprovoked attack.
The blame lies with all of us, really. The signs were all there, but we just too naive. I mean, the reports have been coming out for over seventeen years. Everyone said Axl Rose was working on something devastating, and China would be the target. I, for one, didn't believe it. I thought it was a myth. He had been underground for so long. Every once in awhile, a new report of progress came out. I figured he was just blustering, like all those other world powers who retire and fade into the sunset, but fire off some jingoistic comments every now and then to keep their rep alive. Axl Rose didn't have that kind of power anymore, I was sure of it.
Boy, was I wrong. Out of nowhere, Axl finally launched "Chinese Democracy." And the effects have been devastating. China has denounced it has a "venemous attack," claiming that Guns 'N Roses had "turned its spear point on China," and that this was part of a plot to "grasp and control the world."
As of 7:00 eastern standard time, nearly 45 million Chinese have been killed and another 760 million wounded as a result of this shameless and unprovoked attack.
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