DO IT TREE!

Tuesday, May 31, 2005

dialogue

guy1: She does suffers from hot girl syndrome.
guy2: Hot girl syndrome?
guy1: Yah, you know, HGS? When I go to the bar with her, about a thousand guys offer to buy her drinks and try to talk to her and get her number. Kind of frustrating.
guy2: I guess, but it's better than fugly girl syndrome.
guy1: People screaming in terror, clamoring for the exits.
guy2: Either way it's going to be distracting.

[The initial guy1 statement was taken from a real-life conversation. That makes it seem way funny, huh? Not really but I couldn't take credit for coining the name of such a devastating disease.]

Netflix: Wilde



Whaa? This movie is about Oscar Wilde? Dang! I thought it was the Mrs. Doubtfire sequel.

Let's hope he didn't use CFCs

Top 10 things Phil Spector's lawyer thought when he saw his client looking like this:

10. That's probably not going to help.
9. Is that Dana Carvey?
8. There goes the shy, regular-guy defense.
7. If I had a soul, it would weep for you my friend.
6. Oh, I thought he was saying the trial was going to be a big show.
5. I'm only billing him 4 hundred dollars an hour?
4. Dear god, it's the unholy hybrid of Gary Glitter and a french poodle.
3. She blinded me with science!
2. At least all Jackson did was wear pajamas.
1. CHA-CHING! Hey, weird hair.

Sunday, May 29, 2005

veni, vidi, slushidi

I was getting my Wal-Mart on, got in the checkout line and impulse bought a slushy cup. I like the slushy. Coke slushy though. Let's be honest, cherry's just a popsicle.

I checked out and went over to the slushy machine. Being an expert in such matters, I put the dome lid on my cup FIRST and then filled the cup with the delicious icy-cokey concoction. I reached for a straw and - WTF? - regular straws?? The single greatest contribution to society that the slushy has made is the widespread acceptance of the shovel straw. You know the shovel straw. It's a straw with one end regular and the other end has a small, shovel-type apparatus on it. (Apparently it's called a "spoon straw" and you can buy 10,000 for 125 bucks here.)

I was slightly disappointed at this development. Your regular straw tends to suck disproportionate amounts of syrup out of the slushy and in the end you have a clump of ice. It was unsettling, but I persevered. I leave the store, slushy in hand, and start walking towards my car. Now I had not filled the cup entirely and I had already taken a few sips when something strange happened. Like a grade school science experiment gone horribly right, slushy begin to spew from the opening of the lid deluging my hands, pants and my left shoe. Unseen it would have been bad enough, but the worst part was all the people around who could have only been shocked at what that idiot was doing tonguing that cup of Icee.

The best I could figure was the change in temperature between the store and the outside caused some sort of Vesuvian slushy explosion. I enjoyed my slushy a little more wet than I was when I started.

Friday, May 27, 2005

strange but true

Dispatches concerning the not-so-everyday occurrences in life.

  • Middle-aged man on bike navigating heavy traffic and street construction with ukelele under left arm and olden style Pittsburgh Pirates hat.

Thursday, May 26, 2005

Anthropology 215

What is the physiological indication to someone that you want them to start talking to you? Is there anyway to turn this off or is it a subconscious desire to communicate with fellow man that is too ingrained to deny? I often wonder this as someone starts talking to me and I really don't have anything to say, nor do I care to hear what they are saying. Did I twitch my shoulder slightly, indicating that I was receptive to stories about someone's son’s long hair and rock ‘n roll sensibilities? Was it the way I arched my eyebrows in confusion that indicated I was currently consuming all available Amazing Race talk? Was my sarcastic hand puppet "blah-blah-blahing" misinterpreted as an invitation to spill all the beans about an uncomfortable pair of khakis? Did my presence at the water fountain betray an unknown desire to discuss the lack of stir straw apropos of nothing?

I'm not a misanthrope, nor do I think I'm inherently more interesting than other people, nor am I a very demanding listener. But I am good at determining when what I have a desire to say is mind-numbingly boring. That, my friends, is a little thing I like to call empathy. Is it too much to ask?

Wednesday, May 25, 2005

Look-Alike Contest Winners

This one is cross-generational (don't tell Woody), but I was watching the new Weezer video and was thoroughly disturbed.



Hey Rivers, not sure 70-year-old pedophile is a good look for you (or anyone for that matter). It might be time for a haircut and a new pair of specs.

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Tuesday, May 24, 2005

Netflix: Girl with a Pearl Earring

Girl with a Pearl Earring is about Johannes Vermeer's portrait of the same name.

I liked it. Even though my research has led me to discover that it's all lies. I was trying to figure out if Scarlett Johannson's white-face was some sort of weird Dutch religious tradition. It looked like they went heavy on the SPF 45 sunscreen before every scene. No news on what was up with that. The girl in the painting is pale, but she's not drywalled.

At any rate, the movie inspired me to MSPaint theMonica.



I know. It's really bad, but too funny not to post. I worked at it for a good 2 hours, but was unable to render the beautiful Monica. Instead the best I could do was Howard Stern in drag.

Monday, May 23, 2005

overheard

On Euclid:

"I am the pigeon king!"

Yah, I said it. It's a long story, but let's just say the pigeons won't be frontin' anymore.

Netlflix: The City of Lost Children

The City of Lost Children = Nightmare Before Christmas + Willy Wonka + Pepe Le Pew

In a nutshell, this dude has children kidnapped and tries to steal their dreams. But since the kiddies are scared of him, he is only able to experience their nightmares. It is a fantastical adventure starring some French people speaking French and Ron Perlman of Beauty and the Beast tv series fame! He speaks French too and was constantly banging on sewer pipes to send messages to his "girlfriend".

It was interesting and I liked it well enough. But the plot was a little outlandish. If Disney has taught us anything, it's that lions speak English.

Saturday, May 21, 2005

i hate meetings

I had two meetings on Friday. The second was uneventful, though I made a funny joke for the group's amusement. See this post (so what, maybe I'll make a bunch more links to my own blog? Yah, maybe I will!) for why I'm not going to bother you with the details.

Anyway, in the first meeting a lady was talking about how when she started at our place of employment her job was to staple things all day. I guess she headed the collating department. I come in strong with an Office Space, red swingline reference. *crickets chirping* Umm, Office Space people. I mean, really, how many times do I have to tell you?

Ok, tough crowd. I regroup. We're talking about whatever and someone wants to write on the dry earase board. They write, but the marker isn't up to snuff (but it's up to sniff - oh yah). They search for a new marker and find one of the permanent variety. Someone says, "This won't work; it's a permanent marker." And I say, "The world may want to note what we've said here today." *tumbleweed rolls across my notepad* PEOPLE! It was not only mildly clever, but I was also channeling Lincoln at Gettysburg It's like a funny history lesson all in one little comment. What do I get? Confused looks of annoyance.

Now, I'm deterred. Someone is talking about how we needed to make a list for something. The way he said it, "We need to make a list," was exactly like that hilarious SNL sketch where they talk about making a list with the names of their investors and the amount of money they had invested. And it was very important that they did not lose the list. Well, as you can probably guess I didn't try to roll that one out to my co-workers. I've lost all confidence in them.

The meeting ends and, per usual, I didn't need to be there. I'm a computer troll. Just figure out what you need me to type and throw it under the bridge. I'll take care of the rest.

Open Memo Department

TO: The Cleveland Indians
RE: The 2005 Season


Dear Tribe,

We have been together for as long as I can remember. There’ve been good times and bad times, dizzying highs and oppressive lows. But my love has always been unconditional.

In 2002, when you told me that you had to “find yourself” and get rid of all your quality veteran players, I was hurt, but I understood the need. You turned your back on me in an attempt to make yourself young and beautiful again. You suggested that by now, 2005, you’d be ready to fully commit to me again and perhaps contend for the playoffs.

Well Tribe, it’s May 20th and you’re 17-22. You’re 11.5 games behind the White Sox, 5.5 games behind the Twins . . . Tribe, it hurts me to say this, but you’re even behind the Tigers. The Tigers, Tribe. You know, they’re from Eminem’s hometown? You used to be able to beat-up on them mercilessly? Yah, well now you’re looking up at them. Thankfully the lowly Royals are in your division, keeping you from being in last place. Your last, LAST in the majors with your anemic and pathetic .238 batting average. .238 Tribe? For serious? A blind nun could hit .240.

Maybe we need some time apart. I’ve got some things I need to sort out and you obviously have problems. You’ve got that thing with Aaron Boone. Really, what’s his deal? Wow, you actually have 3 regulars batting UNDER .200. Like I said the king of the wild frontier (.163 - oh c'mon, what's the difference between Daniel Boone and Davy Crockett?), KC Blake (.192) and Victor Martinez??? Yes Victor is batting .198. It seems like even when you have something good you have to go and ruin it.

I will admit that your pitching has been good. I’ll give you that, but when you’re batting .238 – it doesn’t matter. It’s time to take a step back and assess where we are in our relationship. I hope our time apart will help both of us.

Shhhhhh. Don’t say a word. Just go . . . . Lock the door on your way out.

Love,
Roger

p.s. I would have made it funnier, but this is no laughing matter.
p.p.s. theMonica: Sorry, this will not result in me watching few games.

Wednesday, May 18, 2005

Open Memo Department

TO: Stephen Hawking
RE: Million Dollar Baby


Skip this one bro.

Tuesday, May 17, 2005

Netflix: Mulholland Drive

I can't decided if David Lynch is an evil genius or if he's just making shit up as he goes along thinking, "Some film student will make sense of this and put it on his David Lynch webpage. And all will prostrate themselves before their monitors in awe of my brilliance!! Muwhahahahahha." Evil genius or scam artist, either way, you're getting the maniacal laugh.

(Netflix link)

Monday, May 16, 2005

To be read by my future biographer only

Volunteering at the Children's Burn Unit is a difficult task. I try my best to keep the kids in good spirits, but really, they've had a hard row and I don't think my antics are helping. I arrived today wearing a fuzzy red nose and ridiculously long shoes. The children were unimpressed as Patch Adams had been there the day before and he was quite a bit funnier than I. I was chagrined as I walked home, but still sure to pick up any litter I saw on the way. I fretted that I was unequal to the task of helping these unfortunate souls. Well, kids, don't fret. I'll be back tomorrow.

Open Memo Department

TO: Dave Chappelle
RE: On the Entertainment Weekly's article about your "spirtual retreat" (i.e. complete meltdown)

In regards to the passage, "'. . . Whatever decisions I make right now I'm going to have live with. Your soul is priceless.' Seasons 1 and 2 'had a real spirit to them,' he said. 'I want to make sure whatever I do has spirit.'"

Dude, you're writing sketch comedy NOT the final solution. Risk of losing soul - minimal. If the cost of failing to be funny is eternal damnation, we're both in trouble.

re: a cry for help

Earlier today I invented that "weekdaily" word (meaning occurring every weekday), I began to wonder where the love is for Saturday and Sunday. At what point did Monday through Friday get together and say, "Screw 'em. Saturday and Sunday are only days of the week and NOT weekdays." I bet it was that meddlesome Wednesday that did all the talking.

the continuing saga


Culkin offers stunning testimony in Michael Jackson trial.


MC Wire Reports: Santa Maria, California
Macauley Culkin offered little in the way of new evidence in Michael Jackson's trial yesterday. Instead he insisted that Jackson never acted inappropriately and that claims of Jackson molesting him were "completely ridiculous".
Culkin had fond memories of Jackson dressing him as Tarzan and having him make his "mean face" to Michael as he snapped pictures for his "special super-secret photo album". This was in addition to the pillow fights and the frequent pajama-clad "hanging out" on Jackson's bed. Culkin seemed perplexed by the line of questioning from the prosecution. He asked the courtroom, "Doesn't every 8 year-old's parents let him hang out with a single, incredibly weird man who calls his home Neverland Ranch and owns various undomesticated animals and lives with them as if they're human? Clearly if he didn't molest the Home Alone kid, he must be innocent."

Jackson also persuaded Culkin to distrust outer beauty and to look for the beauty inside Jackson's pants. His influence was so significant that he persuaded Culkin to undergo a series of fugglying plastic surgery procedures, just as Jackson had done.

a cry for help

Dear Afternoon Snacky Time,

I wonder if it would be possible to move up our weekdaily 2:30 meeting to a more convenient time. Although, it hasn't been that long since lunch I find myself craving your delicious peanut granola bar thingie and your possible banana (depending on how speckled brown your banana is). Said treats will, as always, be washed down with either a Diet Dr. Pepper or a Lipton Iced Tea - sweetened, no lemon.

Please direct all correspondence to my cubicle. I am hopeful we can agree to meet earlier.

Regards,
Roger

Sunday, May 15, 2005

Netflix: Do You Believe in Miracles?


Do You Believe in Miracles? is a documentary about the 1980 US Olympic Hockey team. Everyone knows that the US beat the seemingly invincible Russians, but did you know Matt Damon was at the game? MATT DAMON!

Thursday, May 12, 2005

Adventures in Spam Email Senders IV

Unknown Relatives to the Stars Edition

Sampling J. Goering Credited with inventing DJ'ing, Sampling was well-known throughout 30's Germany. Frenzied crowds would Lindy Hop the night away as Sampling cranked out current hits on his two Victrola Talking Machines. Unfortunately, Sampling couldn't find a gig once Hermann sullied the family name.
Raymundo AndrewsWhat happens when Julie Andrews has a steamy affair with her immigrant gardener? The shrubs are alive with the sound of gettin' it on. Nine months later, little Raymundo is born and takes his mother's name.
Ninth F. NietzscheAfter naming their first nine children numerically, the Nietzsches decide to break the mold and name their tenth child Friedrich. Friedrich's profound sense of self allows him to break away from his underachieving siblings and become an independent thinker. Ninth goes on to an unfulfilling career in symphony naming (the worst part is it took me about 15 minutes to think of that).
Cristina CrockettHistory tells us little of this "Queen" of the wild frontier. Early experimenting with transgender activities transformed erstwhile Cris into Cristina. But olden-times liquor was strong and some frontiersmen went into meetings with Cristina a little less informed than they would have preferred. Davy died at the Alamo defending the honor of his little "sister".
Melba BoltonPoor Melba Bolton. Early in his career she labeled her cousin, Michael Bolton, a "no talent assclown" and often told him to cut his ridiculous hair. Little did she know that Michael would hit it big time during the "No Talent Ass Clown" musical revolution of the early 90s. Bolton rode that wave along with equally miserable recording artists such as Mariah Carey, MC Hammer and Celine Dion. Melba's earlier insults scarred Michael and drove him to deny Melba any part in his powerful corporate empire.

Netflix: The World at War

The World at War aired on British television during the '70s. It was fascinating, if a little lenghty and Olivier-y (Sir Laurence being the narrator). There were 26 one-hour parts followed up by about 8 hours of bonus material and about 2 hours of "making of" monologue. By my count, that's about 36 hours of viewing. Talk about a laugh riot! Well, not. I don't really have anything clever to say about WWII - I mean, what's left? - but seriously people, read for comprehension. I watched 36 hours worth of WWII documentary. Surely this warrants the Congressional Medal of Honor or some such . . . right?

Wednesday, May 11, 2005

I'm not that innocent!

Katie Holmes has recently announced that she too is a tramp. Well, at least as far as you know. Shocking. In the article she rather ominously says, "I'm not as sweet as you think I am." Ohh, like you're going to sneak into my apartment and cut me? She's says, "At McDonald's I totally take more ketchup packets than what I need." I mean, God forbid someone get the wrong impression and think you like to read and watch Dawson's Creek reruns on the weekend. That would be shameful. I don't know when the transition took place, but it seems like slut-chic is all the rage. Thank you Britney Spears.

Side note: It's also alleged that Katie and Tom Cruise are BF/GF. I don't know about you, but in my mind Tom Cruise has suicide cult leader written all over him.

blog update

I'm really going to try to blog more. So expect MORE of the same, but crappier.

What the FAQ?

I have recently come under some heat from my girlfriend, theMonica, because I haven't written about her on the blog. I think she thinks I'm hiding her existence so all the fawning email from teenage girls keeps pouring in. (Little does she know that that's a whole other thing completely unrelated to the blog.) My argument was that the only person I've written about more than once is Michael Jackson and it's not like I have a thing for him (even though he's totally hot). And I also contend that theMonica is under the false impression that anyone actually reads the blog who doesn't have prior knowledge of her being my girlfriend.

All that aside, in the spirit of giving me lady her propers and keeping the "tone" of the blog consistent (wouldn't I be compromising my "artistic" "integrity" by trying to do her justice and incessantly writing long-winded, gushing, love-fest type posts about her?), here's an FAQ for theMonica and me.

1. YOU have a girlfriend?
Yes . . . Why did you say it like that? I don't appreciate your tone.

2. I'm kind of surprised after having read the blog. Like a real-live girl, not somebody you met on the internet and you've never seen and is most likely a dirty old man?
Yes.

3. Ok. I gotta hear this. What's she like?
Well, bestly, she's a gentle soul. She's kind and caring; she's always looking to lend a helping hand and will even - if I ask nice - make me food! She's witty and sarcastic when she wants to be. She laughs at her own jokes, which I love (especially since I'm no longer able to make her laugh . . . ahhh, the early days when she thought I was pants-wettingly funny). She has long, dark, curly hair that I also love. She's golden tanned and I'm so pasty white that we're basically interracial (she being Lebanese, me being of the bog people). And she's gorgeous.

4. Wait. This is NOT somebody you're making up AND she's wonderful, cool AND she's hot?
Yes, yes, yes and yes.

5. Is there a God?
I think so. Do you think God is forcing her to go out with me?

6. God or Candid Camera. No, Alan Funt is not this powerful! How could God let this happen?
Hey, it has nothing to do with God. It's all me.

7. What? How?
My charm and stuff. Actually, it was probably the constant hounding and huge donation to theMonica Fund. Or maybe it was something else, know what I'm saying?

8. I just threw up a little, in my mouth.
Sorry friend. It's a natural reaction.

Friday, May 06, 2005

strange but true

  1. Teenage girl on downtown street, pedal-pushers, sweater, nametag (Tiffany) pulling smallish shopping cart containing pizza (1 slice) on napkin and nothing else.
  2. Boss type guy at work sent an email to customer-type guy at work that he (boss-type) was his (customer-type) "primary work interface".

God, why can't I be clever enough to make this shit up?

Thursday, May 05, 2005

Netflix: North By Northwest


Drunk driving with Cary Grant. I'm sure Cary disapproved, but it was a plot point.


Special effects by Billy. I admit it didn't look nearly as bad as this at full-speed, but still, look at the fun miniatures! Althought, I think a miniature Doberman would have really pushed the scene over the top.


Ok, this woman is supposed to be Cary Grant's:
  1. special girl
  2. red-headed stepchild
  3. nosey neighbor
  4. mother
The correct answer is d . . .? Yes, d. I kept thinking "mother" was a pet name for his best girl but it wasn't. I guess if you're Hitchcock and you can get Cary Grant you get Cary Grant. Even though Grant is actually 10 months older than Jessie Royce Landis. Who says you never learn anything reading this blog?


Martin Landau can see through your soul!

At any rate, I liked North By Northwest. It is Hitchcock - not like you're going to throw a brick at the TV because it's unbearable.

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kids are stupid

I was thinking today that I'm really busy at work, enough so that I'm swamped. (Not swamped enough not to write this, but you know how that is). Anyway, I was thinking that seeing as how I'm swamped, would that make me Swamp Thing? And then I remembered the first time I saw Swamp Thing. I was young, maybe 5, and the girl at the end of the street had the first video player/recorder in the whole world. I went to her house and she's telling me about her family's Betamax and I was unimpressed. She said, "You can record TV and watch it later." I said, "Why wouldn't you just stay home and watch it?" She didn't have a good reply to that and why would she? Really, what could be more important than catching your favorite TV show as it airs? And then she showed me how you could pause what you were playing. THAT was rad, I had to admit, but more of a novelty. All-in-all, I wasn't convinced this whole "home recording" thing was going to take off. I must have been the dumbest kid ever.

Tuesday, May 03, 2005

Statistics 235

This funny thing happened at work and as soon as it was over I fired up some text editing tools and was set to go at posting about it. Then it occurred to me that it would take about 30 minutes to set-up the joke (with necessary explication of the players involved, the circumstances of the event, etc.), 12 seconds to deliver the punchline and 1 breath for you to say, "That was a complete waste of time." You see, dear friend, when telling a joke, one has to consider what I've dubbed the "Explanation to Hilarity Ratio". The ratio should never exceed 1. Too much explanation with too little hilarity makes for an irate audience. For example - this post.

Anyway, in regards to the original happenings, just watch Office Space for like 15 minutes.