Thursday, April 30, 2009

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!

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Wednesday, April 29, 2009

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.

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Tuesday, April 28, 2009


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.

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Monday, April 27, 2009

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!


Friday, April 24, 2009

drinker's haiku

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


Tuesday, April 21, 2009

gets me every time

Friday, April 17, 2009

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.

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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.

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Tuesday, April 14, 2009

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.

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Monday, April 13, 2009

machine go boom (literally)

So my work computer exploded. Not literally, but figuratively. Actually, probably more literally. The hard drive got fried. Sunny side up. Hard. At any rate, I don't have my laptop yet so I'm working at a desk in a "lab." Lab computers don't have any applications on them, instead I have to interface with all my applications via crappy, crippled web versions of everything. FAIL.

The moral of the story is - backup. Now. Go. I had the 10th percentile most important docs backed up to our network, but since they don't give us a ton of network space, there was a lot I left off. Well, more and more, as I sit here, I am realizing it's going to be a monumental pain in the bridge of my nose to get everything back to "just so." All of my paranoid email archiving - gone. All of my quarter posts for this blog - lost. My people to kill list - forgotten to history. It's tragedy really.

In the mean time, I'm expected to produce stuff sitting here with this 30's style computer. *blech*

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Wednesday, April 08, 2009

you can tell it's a goal by all the "yay"ing

I was think that as I lay on the ice last night. "Do I have it?" YAY! "You know it's a goal by all the 'yay'ing." And it's true. There was a delay though, so I must have had it for a split second. Here's to small victories.

The captain of our team rather unexpectedly and tragically passed away a couple of weeks ago (he was 36!). It's very strange when a peer dies and the game was kind of sad. I badly wanted to win as some of his family came to watch as the league had set-up a collection/tribute, but, alas, FAIL. It was frustrating. Doing your best is all well and good, but often a win is just more satisfying. Oh well. We'll get 'em next time.

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Friday, April 03, 2009

wife beater dilemmas

So I wore a wife beater today. I wore it to dinner last night (I had the roast duck with the mango salsa) to this snooty bar theMonica and I & friends went to. I don't mind the wife beater normally as fitted sports-type polo shirts tend to have shorter sleeves so I can take y'all to the gun show. I don't know; I don't make the stuff it's just how they do these days.

Ok, I had this saved on my hard drive from long ago and I can't figure out what my dilemma was. Was it the conundrum of how to expend the surge of testosterone from wearing such powerful garb? I have no idea. So, somebody go madlibs on this and finish this bastard post up. It's going to take some hard work to get it to marginally clever because frankly, that premise sucks. For serious. Get to work.


which was the mischevious chipmunk . . . alvin?

Cuz I found him dead in our basement. I think he climbed up the storm drain.

theMonica has a super-sniffer and knew something was dead down there. I thought it smelled like a basement. Maybe we're both right. Maybe dead chipmunks smell like basements. Wrap your minds around that one.


Wednesday, April 01, 2009

pure evil

You know what's pure evil? Ear pimples. Rare, but painful and evil.