Netflix: The Jane Austen Book Club (2007)

top 5 things I wanted to happen during this movie:

1. Terrorist attack at current location of book club meeting.
2. Jane Austen's rotting corspe to reanimate and beat them to death.
3. Each member to be stricken by previously unknown illness rendering them unable to read (but only Jane Austen's works).
4. Super-swine flu.
5. The end.

I don't even really hate Jane Austen. But this movie went from 0 to irritating in the first 8 seconds of the title sequence. It's true.

thought . . .

So, did Katy Perry and Jill Sobule kiss EACH OTHER? That's hot.

a.c. newman has a lisp

And so theMonica said to me at some point and now, that's all I can hear. No longer can I unconditionally enjoy his solo work or that of the New Pornographers. Instead all I can hear are all the extra s'esessesseses.

Some things are better left unsaid.

as seen on tv!

So, theMonica and I were on TV last week. We were accosted by some TV reporter from ACTION 19 NEWS! I'm not big into the local news, but this station is particularly funny because they editorialize all their stories with ad hominem attacks. They're always railing against "punk" criminals and "scumbag" politicians. It sounds silly but the false vitriol is actually pretty amusing.

At any rate, we were (somewhat) unfortunately on our way to watch the Indians piss away yet another game when theMonica spotted the reporter from across the street. She said, "Oh no. I don't want to talk to him." But then, we crossed the street and he asked something and theMonica started talking. The microphone is a giant societal Pavlovian instrument, you see.

What was he asking about? Donte Stallworth and Michael Vick. Why did one guy get 30 days for killing an old dude, while the other got a year for fighting and killing dogs? theMonica made valid and interesting points about the value of all life especially that of humans. I said, "In these tough economic times, one man's life is but 30 days worth of time." No. He was going on about whether or not it was ok for Stallworth to have scored 100 points in his personal game of Death Race 2000 because he didn't necessarily "intend" to kill someone (failing to mention that he was about twice the legal limit boozed up). All I got on TV was my zinger, "He INTENDED to get drunk." ZING! ZINGGGG!

That was about it. 10 seconds of face time for the hot chick and like 2 seconds for me, everyman. I'm not bitter, but maybe that should be his next investigation. Ugly dudes vs. hot chicks - who should get more TV face time? I'm smart. I got good ideas!

the debtor Ryan D

So, somebody that used to live here has been a baaaaaad boy. Apparently he doesn't pay his bills or change his address and/or used our phone number as his own (though that's probably a creative debt-collector guy shroom-induced fantasy).

We've gotten a number of calls concerning some debt he owes. I've talked to this dude and he knows who I am, i.e. know whose name the house is in now. Despite this (and the fact that I told him Ryan doesn't live here anymore) he is un-dissuaded from calling and leaving hilarious messages where he goes, "This call is for Ryan. If you are not Ryan, by law you must stop listening to the message now." He then continues to say how he's calling about some money and to rectify the situation to please call some such number. Of course, I'm guessing here because it is illegal for me to listen to my answering machine. In debt-collector guy world, it is impossible for me to hear the number to call in order to get him to leave me the f*k alone.

Ok, so I'm sure he gets it all the time. The guy owing money says he's not the guy that owes money, but instead a handsome, successful, hilarious guy named Roger. But that makes it no less annoying. Besides, it's public record that we bought this house like 6 months ago and that the number he HAD been calling probably was disconnected and then they found a new number for the last-known address -- WAIT! Let me check the attic! Ok, Ryan is not there either -- So, he doesn't live here, debt-collecting guy. I'm sorry you aren't going to get your money, I really amn't. I wish you many riches and that many people who newly owe you money aren't so elusive and so smart so as to move out of a place and not inform you. Seriously, only Matlock could solve such a mystery!

At any rate, I changed our outgoing message. It goes (and I'm paraphrasing myself paraphrasing a long script I wrote): You have reached the [redacted] and not the debtor Ryan D. If you would like to speak with Ryan, I suggest you find out where he really lives and call him there.

I'm helpful like that.

Wal-Mart: The only store you can get a Kenny Rogers t-shirt

for 3 dollars!

Oh yah, I bought it. But I'm wearing it ironically. And I can't get the Gambler out of my head.

Note: T-shirt depicts Kenny pre-facial FUBAR.

In which I may write my last post . . .

So, I am headed back to my alma mater for my 10-year college reunion. Wrap your mind around that one folks. Amazing thing 1 is that I graduated, given how mind-numbingly lazy I was. It took me a couple of years to figure out how if I just did a little bit of work I could do pretty well at school. As I got into more advanced courses, some of them required me to actually think. I had not prepared myself for this and my grades suffered. I was a stupid kid and really were I to go back I would have done much better. The funny thing is, looking back on it, was I didn't drink that much initially. As my drinking increased, my grades improved. Don't get me wrong, I never really applied myself, but I did put forth a reasonable effort. The funnier thing is that I taught myself to program when I was a kid and when I got into MIS (Management Information Systems), it was largely "review." I hadn't used the specific languages and whatnot, but I understood how to code. The funniest thing is that neither of those previous points were really funny, maybe curious.

It's funny, again, not ha-ha funny, but I can still remember the first day I was on the internet. A buddy of ours came back from the lab talking about the "world wide web." WTFs a WWW? We went and fired up the browsers that went to Netscape.com. We eventually figured out that this wasn't the only site on the internet, but back then you did have the feeling that if there was anything worth knowing about on the web, you knew about it. Now there are probably hundreds of sites (in English) that I'd love which I'll never find out about.

They've pretty much rebuilt the entire campus since I was there. Maybe they named one of those computer labs after me or something. Then again they don't consider tution paid as a proper donation, despite my protests to the contrary.

At any rate, should you never hear from me again, I either re-enrolled, died or theMonica left me there sans internet access.

best man speech testimonials!

"If I ever get married, I want you to give the best man's speech!"
--Some lady that worked there

"Thanks! I got my ab workout for the weekend."
--Some lady with rock-hard abs.

"Great speech."
--Some guy.

"So AWESOME!! Do you have a blog?"
--Nobody

new post goes here

So I had this tab open to a new post window for this blog. Hmmm, that means that I had a sweet idea that was soon to be a post. Well, here you go a shiny new post.

Anyway, I had my best man speech. I was pleased - I guess. I don't really know. I know some people laughed, but it was a huge room so it sounded like one guy getting the clap. Or something. The key players liked it, so that's what matters. Actually, the key players TOLD me they liked it, so that's REALLY what matters here, at my blog. Am I write or am I right or am I Wright? I just totally did that half-accidentally.

In the final analysis, getting married was probably 1.8 trillion times less stressful than being the best man. Especially since I am not the take charge, let's plan some outings - kind of guy. Once the speech was over -- and I should say, I enjoyed giving it way more than anticipating it -- I had a TON of fun. So, let's do it again! But two different people (that's the idea) and I'm not best man. Ok. Go.

I have a new blog.

In case you hadn't noticed, this blog, like, sucks. So I made a new one! It's called, A Different Sucky Blog. Enjoy!

You actually probably won't as it's going to be exclusively about programming/computer stuff as opposed to this blog which is about my inability to cope with growing older. (What? You didn't know that? That's a motif, yo.) So if that kind of thing interests you (Larry), then go on over and be bored with me on a whole new array of topics (see, already a computer joke - BING!).

What will the neighbors think? Probably that I can swear really loud.

So the Cavs' season is over. IT'S OVERRRRRR!

Oh well, they had a good run. I am sad; you are sad; we are all sad - unless we are a fan of the Magic and/or Lakers. Such is the life when you're a fan of a professional sports team. Now the long summer of our discontent and the long summer of our waiting until next summer. Fiddlesticks.

At any rate, excuse my absence. I was preoccupied with the above, planning a surprise 30th for theMonica (well, planning her arrival - Monica's cousin did most of the heavy lifting) and planning a bachelor party/best man speech. Let me tell you - getting married is 1 to 5 million times less stressful than being best man. Sheesh. The pressure's on!

What this monetize tab up on my "dashboard" or whatnot? How many thousands do I get upon striking it? I won't go to the mouse for less than 3 large.

. . . ? means I know I'm right, but I'll humor you

I have this habit of writing emails like, "So, you shouldn't have put that code there . . . ?" I'm not really in any state of doubt about the matter, but I want it to say, "Hey, is this what the problem was?"

I think it works pretty well. It allows me to avoid full-on calling people out. Come to think of it I also use it to mean, "Here is an assertation I'm making . . . I am not stupid, am I? . . . ?" This is the modified Ben Franklin. He was smart and subtle in all things and that's what I aim to be, you big fat idiot.

overheard

I love you . . . even though you're going to see Dane Cook.

sit back and imagine my sonorous tones (just assume it!)

So my wife tells me I have a voice like a chick. Ok, maybe she didn't phrase it exactly that way. She said something like, "Dude, you sound like a chick." No, no. It was like, "You have a little bit of a higher voice." And I was all, "Compared to Barry White?" I mean, wtf? Isn't that figuratively emasculating? I say, "WHHEEEEeeee!" Because that's what a little girl would say.

Actually I take solace in the fact that Lincoln was said to have a nasally, "higher" voice. The talking Lincoln doll that theMonica gave me does fit the bill. But he says cool shit like, "Fondly do we hope, fervently do we pray, that this mighty scourge of war may speedily pass away. Yet, if God wills that it continue until all the wealth piled by the bondsman's two hundred and fifty years of unrequited toil shall be sunk, and until every drop of blood drawn with the lash shall be paid by another drawn with the sword, as was said three thousand years ago, so still it must be said 'the judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether.'"

He actually only says a sentence or two at a time, but it's all good. I thought maybe he should have come equipped with a battle ax, you know, to regulate on JWB, but, alas, it wasn't to be and all we're left with is my little girl squeal.

Netflix: Perfect Stranger (2007)

I liked the tv show better.

art of office: endearing yourself to the boss

My boss had her back turned, facing her computer when I was turning in my administration worksheet and said to: "Here's my thingie." If she expected me to be pant-less, she was sorely disappointed.

Netflix: Doctor Zhivago (1965)

I don't really have any thoughts on the movie. I mean, other than the heavy British, I mean, Russian accents were pretty hilarious. I thought it was well done and theMonica could have done without all the adultery, but, hey, I didn't want to gauge (hurts way worse than gouging) my eyes out. It had that going for it.

At any rate, I know a dispropororpoportionate percentage of this blog's readers are incredibly smart and have advanced degrees and whatnot. And the movie did pique my curiosity. I'm looking for a good book to read to learn all about Julie Christie. No, not her, that slut. I want to learn more about this time in Russian history. I'm leaving it vague ("this time") because I don't know how far I would need to go back tsar-wise, nor how far into the revolution. That's where all you history Phd's/Phd's to-be come in (I'm including you Alan).

And I'm looking for the straight dope. I don't want a romanticized view written by some '30s style American/British communist-sympathizer intellectual (if I just made up the existence of that class of people, please disregard) nor the late-Tsar's autobiography.

This is like homework. Nose to the grindstone people!

what if I told you . . .

this blog was made by PIZZA HUT?!

<pottymouth - earmuffs! blindfolds!>
I ate a lot of bacon tonight in an attempt to soothe myself after a particularly troubling and maddening Indians loss. Why bacon? Because bacon is delicious. I was not about to eat tomatoes, which would have only infuriated me further. Seriously, the only thing that would have made me feel better would have been if Jensen Lewis were here cooking me the bacon whilst I berated him (or perhaps boxed him about the ears?) for being such a shitty pitcher and all-around asshole. Ok, ok. He had a bad day and it wasn't (entirely) his fault and he seems like a nice guy, and really it's the "trends" of the season that are upsetting me. It's kind of like when you can tell a relationship is going badly and you don't necessarily want to get the boot. You know it won't happen right away. So you try to hold on till August (when anything can happen!), but kid, it ain't happening. You can't ski the K-12.

I can't prove this statistically but the Indians fucking suck have developed a habit of "finding a way to lose." That's what the coaches are always talking about, right? If it's not the starters screwing up, it's the relievers. If it's not the relievers, it's the starters. Should they both decide to pull it together the hitting and defense go AWOL.

insert big fat Charlie Brown *sigh* here.
</pottymouth - earmuffs! blindfolds!>

<computer dorkery>
Ok. I'm over it. And now is the time for backing up some partitions on my hard drives because that's how I'm rolling with my BRAND-NEW SATA II 640GB hard drive that I have to install some stuff on so I can put the PATA hard drive in the tv box machine. What is the tv box machine? It's this Frankenstein of computers that I put together so I could watch Netflix instantly at a higher quality than what s-video offered. So far so good, but I fear I might have wireless throughput issues. Watch this space for further updates!

I hope Larry reads this post or those exciting insights will totally fall on blind eyes or whatever.
</computer dorkery>

I also partially cross-posted this at Draft Day Suit. I don't post there enough because I'm lazy/figure people can only take 1 or 2 of my whiny monologues per year.

intervention?

So theMonica might be having an affair with that creepy Twilight movie.

Initially, she was above the fray as her friends were all, "Lah-di dah, I'm just a pre-teen in love with a dude in a movie." (I think the dude is the one that looks like a clown? Right? White face paint and red lips?) This was the woman I married - above such nonsense.

But then, their wiccan powers overcame her resistance and the next thing I know she's attending Twilight parties . . . wtf? Ok. Disturbing, but maybe it's a girl-chat session, you know, regular stuff: talkin' about real live human boys and manicures and whatnot.

That's what I thought. Well, I usually play basketball on Tuesdays then go to the bar for some wings, but tonight I was feeling all of my 32 and 5/6th years so I came home. And what do I find? theMonica making out with a life-sized fathead of the clown vampire. No, just kidding, she was watching the Twilight commentary track. I mean, for serious? What are we going to learn from the girl with scoliosis? Not much, I say.

Off to the office I went with plans of emailing all our friends and family (except the others that are also addicted to Twilight). theMonica needs our support.

these people like yard work

So, I officially have the worst lawn in the 'hood. This doesn't take much laziness on my part and really, I can still be way lazier than what's led me to owning the worst lawn in the 'hood.

It's not totally my fault. The previous owner was a big gardener, but she got sick, passed away and the house was empty for some time. What was once some sort of modern day Babylonian Gardens is now a random mixture of plants/shrubbery/weeds. Some stuff is dead, some blooming and other stuff is a concrete rabbit.

The thing that sucks is that I need to cut the grass because the weeds are too high. The grass remains at a comfortable height, but the weeds, they grow aggressively. Oh, yard work. Here's to sneezing and skin cancer!

drinker's haiku

3 beer hangover
I had so few libations
lines must have been bad

gets me every time

thought . . .

I actually like salads now. The first thousand or so were tough to choke down, but after that I started to enjoy them. Here's to small victories and putting lots of bacon on salads.

get in my head? HA. I don't let anything in there!

So, my hockey team, despite being a few games under .500, was in the playoff hunt. Going into our last game we were 1 point behind the 3rd place team. We needed a win and loss by them or a tie and a loss by them (as we owned the head-to-head advantage).

We were playing the first-place team (allegedly short-handed, but not understaffed). At the start of the second period, I noticed that 5 or 6 of the guys from the 3rd place team were behind the glass. Ok . . . ? Their game wasn't until Thursday, but surely 24 hours was enough time to discover the outcome of our game. I also found it odd they were at my end as there were some nice bleachers to occupy, but whatever, people stand there all the time.

I let one in at the beginning of the 2nd period. Wasn't too horrible of a goal to give up, the guy kind of backhanded swatted an on-edge, rolling puck right into the corner of the net. (I will admit to the soft prejudice of low expectations. I had seen him moving around and determined he would need to settle the puck before shooting. But kudos to him for just whaling at it. Though I'd give him 20-to-1 against doing it again on one try.)

This goal tied the game at 1. Shortly thereafter, we scored again. That made it 2-1 us (if you're incredibly bad at math/short-term memory). There was no more scoring in the 2nd.

3rd period starts. I skate down to the other end, have some water, wring out the headband dealie in my helmet (yah, sweat. yah, nasty.) and look over and what do I see? The 3rd place team watching me. Totally. They followed me down to the other end. Who is that motivated to walk to the other end of the ice? No one. They were trying to put the bad juju on me! Fortunately, theMonica's mom is old school and probably has created a bubble of invulnerability around me for voodoo blocking.

At any rate, I showed them. I got lucky 2 or 3 times but none of it was bad luck and we ended the game with the win, 2-1.

So, yes, I do win sometimes, but my lifetime winning percentage over all sports is poor. 40%? I'm not sure. I always fall in with guys that "just want to have fun" or "hey, we all need to get to work in the morning" or "won't bring in a bunch of ringers to win the important games" (an amazing number of teams do this, which I find odd).

The lesson here is: I can't be beaten. I can be beaten because I suck, but I can't be beaten by psychic powers.

boredom awaits you!

Roller hockey season started last night. FAIL. 7-5. I didn't play too badly. The transition from ice to sportcourt (or whatever they call that stuff) is a somewhat difficult one. I'll get 'em next week, I promise.

All of this was uneventful, really. Except at one point, I shrugged or something and pulled a muscle in my neck. Have you ever done this? I call it the "pump fake" muscle because I've pulled it before whilst being overzealous in my attempts to lose a defender. Is this what whiplash is? Yowzer. Naturally I did that in warm-ups, so I had a pain in the neck for the game. But afterward, when it tightened, I felt like a robot. Must move head with torso.

It woke me up a few times when I, you know, moved. Never have I needed a hot water bottle more. And all day today I would forget that my neck was busted and I would turn my head. Ouch. And it got me to thinking of that Brady Bunch episode where the guy sues the Bunch for a car accident or some such. During the trial, the kids figure out he's faking it and slam a briefcase on their table. Guy turns his head; ipso facto, he is now a PROVEN faker. All day I was that dude, "What's the behind me?" Gah! That dude got a raw deal.