To cap off a banner week, I get up at 7:30 and check my business only to find a text from Moda saying that her car was towed. Frack. My tummy is not too incredibly frassy which means that I'm calming down, some. I wait for the Bean to leave, check to see that my car is outside, start it, and get the remnants of the walkway cleared and salted.
Today is a tidying day. The mailbox full of bills/mortgages/utilities only serves as a reminder of how dire this s#it is. I shoot off a couple more emails asking for referrals, top the bills off in order of soonest due to next soonest due. I finish clearing out the kitchen table of the organized crap from emptying the boxes, throwing away dead pens and pens with the deer on it. I set up the command center to have a stack of bills to be paid immediately, unemployment paperwork that came today, pens, and a to-do list. Georgie teh kitteh is now sleeping on half.
Moda and some CB buddies are meeting for sushi and she offered to buy so I relish the opportunity to get out of the house on this gorgeous (albeit cold) and sunny day. Looking in the mirror, however...another story emerges.
Holy crap. I look like Nick Nolte's booking photo. I realize my costume for the last few days has been my bathrobe, the same jammie bottoms and same green shoddy tank top and even shoddier sweat shirt. And my five o'clock shadow threatens to overrun my face all the way up to my knappy hairdo.
Feeling a new man upon exiting the shower (checking business. No sign of referral request responses. New man is not happy to have been felt.) I head out.
After a grumpy sushi lunch- Moda b/c of her car and the fact that folks showed up late and DG b/c of work...wait, let's pump the brakes for some internal monologuing. Daddy isn't mad, but sitting next the the newly unemployed guy and complaining about how assignments are coming in too fast and how you'll need an assistant to finish it or they quit...I mean, I'm right here.
We all part, and I head home for more tidying/business checking/and oddly enough, a nap. The local MPR radio station dj is asking for money in spite of the economy and tells listeners to "Hang in there. Things will get better". Okay. I arrive home to here of a very temp acting type gig helping law students during mock trial sessions next week. Score. Every little cent helps. Also, the unemployment paperwork is f#ck all hard to understand, so I make a note to go over it with Mo this weekend.
Moda arrives and I start creating fajita's. We both think about getting tanked on this awful upon awful of weeks, but end up slowing down and eating dark dark chocolate on the couch while watching netflixed films.
Let's see what a "normal" weekend means.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Day Four- Anxiety, Purging, and beacon # 1
There is a weather advisory today. It's overcast, getting chilly, and I don't want to get out of bed. I wait a while until I hear the Bean leave for work, try to settle back in, and can't. I let Moda have more of a lie-in since she has the day off for a PWC gig, grab some coffee, and start to read. When she wakes and finds me in the command center she says I look sexy. True, I've let the facial hair go since Sunday...but my reasons are "if I'm gonna be jobless, I might as well look like a hobo".
She makes breakfast and as we act like good girlfriends and drink coffee while watching "The View". (Background noise, people. I've already checked my Yahoo account 4 times before 10am) I ask casually why there are so many school closings listed to which she responds that there is a snow emergency. Glancing outside at the melty backyard I snerk about how that's a good excuse.
I start to feel nauseous again, and also a little panicky. It's kind of ridiculous, but I'm gonna be alone in the house all day. She tells me that she'll grab me lunch and I can come watch if it's an open audience performance. I feel like my gratitude is glowing. I call dad thinking I'm gonna get a couple of options and instead get an earful on Unemployment and pursuing it through my old HR department. Some choice words are tossed, and 45 minutes later I feel greater waves of nausea and hopelessness. I go down stairs and start to clean out the two Fed Ex boxes (Again, I'm determined not to leave shit about the place and sulk. Move, buddy) When that's done, I try back AcctTemps. Success. They refer me to another number and we go through a get-to-know you interview. He tells me that it's tight, but he'll send me some info and online app stuff and let's have a live interview on Monday.
Sweet.
The sweetness is cut short when I go to throw anything from the old place that has a deer on it in the trash when I take a spill on an icy patch and nearly get bowled over by gale blowing snowy winds. I stand there for a moment, and once again create a maudlin scenario like "This weather reflects my sooooul..." Except I'm not that emo.
I think it's amazing that 3 minutes outside has coated my hair in snow and my sweatshirt is damp. Upon stripping down and toweling off was when finally the dry heaves pay off with the loss of my breakfast burrito. I spend the part of the afternoon curled fetal on my bed until I go down to get some water. I call Moda and cancel plans and stay curled up in the command center. Feeling really isolated. I make it outside to shovel and the Bean drives up asking for grocery requests. He doesn't budge until I give him one item, so I relent and ask for bananas.
I spend the early evening on the couch, vascillating between Return of the King (Still tear up at the end. Shup) Smallville, and some lame ass JLo movie on TBS. It's weird, but I'm waiting up for Moda and I'm not even sure if she's gonna arrive. So I call her to make sure she got home safely, and I call it a night.
And realize I hadn't eaten anything all day since breakfast. And I'm still not hungry.
She makes breakfast and as we act like good girlfriends and drink coffee while watching "The View". (Background noise, people. I've already checked my Yahoo account 4 times before 10am) I ask casually why there are so many school closings listed to which she responds that there is a snow emergency. Glancing outside at the melty backyard I snerk about how that's a good excuse.
I start to feel nauseous again, and also a little panicky. It's kind of ridiculous, but I'm gonna be alone in the house all day. She tells me that she'll grab me lunch and I can come watch if it's an open audience performance. I feel like my gratitude is glowing. I call dad thinking I'm gonna get a couple of options and instead get an earful on Unemployment and pursuing it through my old HR department. Some choice words are tossed, and 45 minutes later I feel greater waves of nausea and hopelessness. I go down stairs and start to clean out the two Fed Ex boxes (Again, I'm determined not to leave shit about the place and sulk. Move, buddy) When that's done, I try back AcctTemps. Success. They refer me to another number and we go through a get-to-know you interview. He tells me that it's tight, but he'll send me some info and online app stuff and let's have a live interview on Monday.
Sweet.
The sweetness is cut short when I go to throw anything from the old place that has a deer on it in the trash when I take a spill on an icy patch and nearly get bowled over by gale blowing snowy winds. I stand there for a moment, and once again create a maudlin scenario like "This weather reflects my sooooul..." Except I'm not that emo.
I think it's amazing that 3 minutes outside has coated my hair in snow and my sweatshirt is damp. Upon stripping down and toweling off was when finally the dry heaves pay off with the loss of my breakfast burrito. I spend the part of the afternoon curled fetal on my bed until I go down to get some water. I call Moda and cancel plans and stay curled up in the command center. Feeling really isolated. I make it outside to shovel and the Bean drives up asking for grocery requests. He doesn't budge until I give him one item, so I relent and ask for bananas.
I spend the early evening on the couch, vascillating between Return of the King (Still tear up at the end. Shup) Smallville, and some lame ass JLo movie on TBS. It's weird, but I'm waiting up for Moda and I'm not even sure if she's gonna arrive. So I call her to make sure she got home safely, and I call it a night.
And realize I hadn't eaten anything all day since breakfast. And I'm still not hungry.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Day three- Telling the Bean
Normally hump day is a cause for mild celebration to the cube jockey. The week is half over and the weekend is smiling in your face. After seeing Moda off to work like a good SO, I see the Bean is up and frassin. He asks if I'm still sick and I make maudlin gesture number 10. In my robe, I lean over the sink and plant my hands while taking a deep breath than looking up. He responds accordingly and very Bean-like: "Uh-Oh...I don't like the sound of that"
"I was let go on Monday"
Rather than turn into a worried Wonka, he mobilizes as well. He throws various ideas out there and we bounce them off one and other. He leaves, with the promise that he'll keep his eyes and ears open. I send off another resume, call back the temp firm, and head out for a jog on this glorious day. By mile 3, I'm throwing up. I have to walk the last 6 blocks and chalk it up to nerves. At home, I agree to meet and help run lines with a buddy who took the day off to work on their script. While brushing my teeth, I start dry-heaving. I start getting worried that I'm gonna get sick right after I lose my insurance.
I come downstairs to a couple of Fed Exed boxes on my porch. All my work gear. And a flush of anger rises in me again. And I start to get another lump in my throat. A cursory poke through them reveals they sent me back all my office supplies on my desk top. (Which negates my whole fantasy of winning the lottery and keeping them all anyway) My five year glass commemorative candy dish is in pieces at the bottom as well as a Spider-Man card/picture holder. I make a note to inventorize tomorrow, then notice that my hardboiled eggs that I usually bring for a snack are in there. Again, effectively rendering my hope they'd forget them and they'd go bad useless.
I check my business again and head over to be a line runner. I cathart to 'Lis, run lines, then we drink some beers. We're joined later by Moda and Tuggernuts before breaking for the night. I hunker down for "Two Towers" and fall asleep. I wake up when Moda breaks from rehearsal. We frass a bit, then call it a night.
"I was let go on Monday"
Rather than turn into a worried Wonka, he mobilizes as well. He throws various ideas out there and we bounce them off one and other. He leaves, with the promise that he'll keep his eyes and ears open. I send off another resume, call back the temp firm, and head out for a jog on this glorious day. By mile 3, I'm throwing up. I have to walk the last 6 blocks and chalk it up to nerves. At home, I agree to meet and help run lines with a buddy who took the day off to work on their script. While brushing my teeth, I start dry-heaving. I start getting worried that I'm gonna get sick right after I lose my insurance.
I come downstairs to a couple of Fed Exed boxes on my porch. All my work gear. And a flush of anger rises in me again. And I start to get another lump in my throat. A cursory poke through them reveals they sent me back all my office supplies on my desk top. (Which negates my whole fantasy of winning the lottery and keeping them all anyway) My five year glass commemorative candy dish is in pieces at the bottom as well as a Spider-Man card/picture holder. I make a note to inventorize tomorrow, then notice that my hardboiled eggs that I usually bring for a snack are in there. Again, effectively rendering my hope they'd forget them and they'd go bad useless.
I check my business again and head over to be a line runner. I cathart to 'Lis, run lines, then we drink some beers. We're joined later by Moda and Tuggernuts before breaking for the night. I hunker down for "Two Towers" and fall asleep. I wake up when Moda breaks from rehearsal. We frass a bit, then call it a night.
Day two- Calm before the storm.
I have a resolve list I'm bound and determined to stick with. Get up at the same time daily, check my business by the minute, and not spend any $ unless absolutely neccessary. I'm emailing Portana with questions and her response is inspiring. I'm starting to get some personal messages and emails with thoughts and encouragement. Mom is sending Craigslist ads that I respond to with fervor. And, I get my first nibble from a temp agency who I promptly play phone tag with.
I'm a smidge quesey still, but make it to the gym/run and make the most of my new-found freedom with an offer of free pizza by Moda. We run into Ari who is concilitory regarding my situation. I jokingly ask if he needs an assistant and he says he does. He, in turn, jokes that he can remember this (Insert obscure 70's sitcom theme song) but not his next meeting.
I head back home for more business checking, and file for dreaded unemployment. It's an intimidating process for me. The questions seem invasive, and at this time I'm not sure I'm reading them correctly. A Yahoo feature speaks of unemployment, things getting worse, and a puddle of bile swirls in my belly. I continue my movie marathon from the night before. I've finished "40 Year Old Virgin", "300", and decide the "LotR" extended editions should follow. (I make it through all of these in record time due to my habit of fast forwarding past the boring bits. Which means all the walking and talking expository crap in "LotR" goes by at 8 x's FF)
Still scared, still attempting optimism, I get the 2nd email from the other co-worker. I start to cry again. I have a beer and call it a night. I notice that I skipped dinner, and realize that this is starting to resemble my "getting dumped" diet. No good. Hopefully my appetite will return.
I'm a smidge quesey still, but make it to the gym/run and make the most of my new-found freedom with an offer of free pizza by Moda. We run into Ari who is concilitory regarding my situation. I jokingly ask if he needs an assistant and he says he does. He, in turn, jokes that he can remember this (Insert obscure 70's sitcom theme song) but not his next meeting.
I head back home for more business checking, and file for dreaded unemployment. It's an intimidating process for me. The questions seem invasive, and at this time I'm not sure I'm reading them correctly. A Yahoo feature speaks of unemployment, things getting worse, and a puddle of bile swirls in my belly. I continue my movie marathon from the night before. I've finished "40 Year Old Virgin", "300", and decide the "LotR" extended editions should follow. (I make it through all of these in record time due to my habit of fast forwarding past the boring bits. Which means all the walking and talking expository crap in "LotR" goes by at 8 x's FF)
Still scared, still attempting optimism, I get the 2nd email from the other co-worker. I start to cry again. I have a beer and call it a night. I notice that I skipped dinner, and realize that this is starting to resemble my "getting dumped" diet. No good. Hopefully my appetite will return.
Living in the slow lane
Hi. I was fired.
After over 7 years at the same place, I was let go Monday morning. When you work in the fidouchiary community and the econ is the way it is, you figure you are working on limited time. The funny thing is, I kinda saw it coming? About 2 months ago we re-structured and I was assigned manager #3, the third within 12 months. Departments were letting folks go, things were getting cut from the top down, bonuses were redacted company wide, and there seemed to be an ill wind in the air. I had a recent desk move which I figure may have prompted a smidgen security (they can be expensive inter-departmentally) but it caused me to start bringing personal stuff home bit by bit. I started frassin' with buddies as to how to get started on a job hunt, thinking it would be tough but not impossible. I re-created a resume' and got some contact info. And was gearing up of making a go of it.
Turns out, a little too late.
So mama-san thought it'd be best to start blogging about it to give a day by day account of what it's been like, create a cathartic outlet, create fodder for my one-person show, and hopefully kill some time before my (hopefully) speedy rehire. So as we say in the showbiz parlance, let's take it from the top. Per safety/security things may be discussed in generalities so please take my apologies in advance. Clarifications will be happily regurgitated in person. More on that, later:
Day one-
Boss is in the office on a non-boss-in the office day. I take this as a bad sign already. I take to working and keeping my head down, as I had been wont to do lately. I get a meeting invite via email with myself and two others and my spider sense starts tingling. I send a quick note to Moda with the header "I'm kinda scared right now" with the body "I think I'm gonna get fired today". Walking down to the first floor meeting room, by the entrance, I am flooded with a sense of calm. I know what's coming. I've kind of known for a while. If it's not what I think, all right. And if it is...well, I know.
It happens, and they go to collect a list of personal things I can think of off the top of my head. No easy feat since you accumulate a lot more than your jacket and man-bag in 7 years. I text Mo and head home. I notice traffic is light at that time of day. Weird.
At home, Moda asks to come over which I didn't think was a good idea but said okay(with a promise of booze) and I mobilize immediately. I start with anonymous and vague emails to my two closest work associates with personal forwarding info/#'s etc. Mo shows up and over a cocktail I get my first real maudlyn meltdown- I wasn't even able to say goodbye to my friends. They show you the door and that's that.
I finish my drink and emailing bro, posting resume's to 5+ headhunter sites, imploring actor types for any employment opps, and promptly take a nap. I get up to dinner being made and checked my email. Checking my email/voicemail every 10 minutes or so is going to be a habit these next few days. As I smell sauteeing veggies downstairs, I am reminded of the gratitude I have for my parental visit the other day where I walked out with 5 bags of groceries.
Moda rehearses. I talk to my family. Brother seems to understand the situation all too well. The 'rents place the fear of God in me which freaks me out and makes my tummy frassy. I watch a s#itty episode of "Heroes" and call it a night. One last email check I get from the aforementioned co-worker. I read it, and start to cry again. I attended his wedding. He helped me move. He's seen countless shows I've done. I feel optimistic. Free. Thankful that I have a lot of PTO owed me, recently filed my taxes, and have most bills paid.
And, I'm a little drunk. Good night.
After over 7 years at the same place, I was let go Monday morning. When you work in the fidouchiary community and the econ is the way it is, you figure you are working on limited time. The funny thing is, I kinda saw it coming? About 2 months ago we re-structured and I was assigned manager #3, the third within 12 months. Departments were letting folks go, things were getting cut from the top down, bonuses were redacted company wide, and there seemed to be an ill wind in the air. I had a recent desk move which I figure may have prompted a smidgen security (they can be expensive inter-departmentally) but it caused me to start bringing personal stuff home bit by bit. I started frassin' with buddies as to how to get started on a job hunt, thinking it would be tough but not impossible. I re-created a resume' and got some contact info. And was gearing up of making a go of it.
Turns out, a little too late.
So mama-san thought it'd be best to start blogging about it to give a day by day account of what it's been like, create a cathartic outlet, create fodder for my one-person show, and hopefully kill some time before my (hopefully) speedy rehire. So as we say in the showbiz parlance, let's take it from the top. Per safety/security things may be discussed in generalities so please take my apologies in advance. Clarifications will be happily regurgitated in person. More on that, later:
Day one-
Boss is in the office on a non-boss-in the office day. I take this as a bad sign already. I take to working and keeping my head down, as I had been wont to do lately. I get a meeting invite via email with myself and two others and my spider sense starts tingling. I send a quick note to Moda with the header "I'm kinda scared right now" with the body "I think I'm gonna get fired today". Walking down to the first floor meeting room, by the entrance, I am flooded with a sense of calm. I know what's coming. I've kind of known for a while. If it's not what I think, all right. And if it is...well, I know.
It happens, and they go to collect a list of personal things I can think of off the top of my head. No easy feat since you accumulate a lot more than your jacket and man-bag in 7 years. I text Mo and head home. I notice traffic is light at that time of day. Weird.
At home, Moda asks to come over which I didn't think was a good idea but said okay(with a promise of booze) and I mobilize immediately. I start with anonymous and vague emails to my two closest work associates with personal forwarding info/#'s etc. Mo shows up and over a cocktail I get my first real maudlyn meltdown- I wasn't even able to say goodbye to my friends. They show you the door and that's that.
I finish my drink and emailing bro, posting resume's to 5+ headhunter sites, imploring actor types for any employment opps, and promptly take a nap. I get up to dinner being made and checked my email. Checking my email/voicemail every 10 minutes or so is going to be a habit these next few days. As I smell sauteeing veggies downstairs, I am reminded of the gratitude I have for my parental visit the other day where I walked out with 5 bags of groceries.
Moda rehearses. I talk to my family. Brother seems to understand the situation all too well. The 'rents place the fear of God in me which freaks me out and makes my tummy frassy. I watch a s#itty episode of "Heroes" and call it a night. One last email check I get from the aforementioned co-worker. I read it, and start to cry again. I attended his wedding. He helped me move. He's seen countless shows I've done. I feel optimistic. Free. Thankful that I have a lot of PTO owed me, recently filed my taxes, and have most bills paid.
And, I'm a little drunk. Good night.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
And the Frasscar goes to!
I am a perennial collector of the VeeF "Hollywood" issue. Admittedly I'm hooked on stupid ass glam photo's by Annie Frassoweitz and Herb Fratts that I can't let that stupid March issue go. Since 1998, bitcas.
I like it, because the issue comes out right before the Frasscar's and for some reason always brings me back to when I bought my first issue (Road trip back from Nashville, 1997) and momentos from things like that usually only last the moment you do them. VeeF? Comes out with the issue every year, baby.
So I've had the pleasure this year of seeing almost every movie considered. This is...to be fair...huge. Since the last 6 years or so I'd maybe...MAYBE seen 2 or 4. But we got through a majority, and I'm proud like a kid after his first paper route. Although, and to tie our two themes together:
"The Frassler". Okay. We get it. He's redeemed. His life, his real life, it's all like...the camera is capturing it you know? This guy has needed a break for soooooo long. Where has he been, man?
Well. For starters, he's been in a couple of VeeF Hollywood issues as the "Bad Boy" or some such nonsense. Shirtless. Molesting a chihuahua, and trying to figure out how he was the bomb diggety from 1985-1990 before becoming a pariah.
Well dude. You've had some pretty cool indie films. See-Ann Peen believed in you. And the critics didn't miss it. It was just before indie-films had a chance to be Frasscar winners. Now it's like "Hey...you won an independent spirit award. Let's give you a Frasscar too!".
Wait. What? I thought one was to celebrate independent filmmaking. The other, to say drivel like "Titanic" (Which made a shhhhiteton of money for the academy) with gabillgion dollar budgets got the gold?
There was a movie called "Frass City" that was out two years ago. 'Member? And who played "Marv"? Oh, some guy. Not some guy needing a comeback. Or a film tailor made to his life story, albeit with tights. Nope. He's been there. And bless'em for trying, I just get tired of seeing the dumbed down version of his "rising from the ashes". Folks. He never left the building. They are leading you.
And don't kill me. RDjr is similar. (At this point, most celebrities probably need to build up there shell or don't believe the hype. But let me telllllll you)
Again. A frakkin' great actor. Really. But he's fallen and redeemed so much that he's practically a phoenix. Folks. Just. Ugh. (And "TThunder" is a great, great movie to see what he can do. Really. )
Rant Rant Rant...
Okay.
"Slumfrass" will win a lot. If you read Mpls/StPaul mag, there's an interesting line "It's what the academy loves". So yeah. Sorry, frassers. It is written.
The Ledge? I'd like to see him win. I think he was really good, outside my nerd sentiments, and I've watched the DVD now more times than I care to admit. (And really, I loved having such a visceral memory of a movie experience like I did with "TDK" and my roommate + SO)
The Frassler? Mmmmmno. It's gonna be a Burt Reynolds for him. ("Boogie Nights"? Anyone?)
He was good...as himself...but it isn't Olympic gold, baby.
I'm truncating the frack out of my predictions, but K'winslet is due. There, I said it. And two movies up in the running mean she's favored. And? Apparently she gets nakey in both. Academy, this is dedication. I'm serious.*
*Right, okay. So the MPAA has fracked up seriously in the past with their noms. Yoooou know. The lame ass argument that So-and-So got ROBBED for whatever, only to get an award a year or two later for "House Party 6- House PARTIER!"
I think she's a fine, believable, and enjoyable performer. And having seen neither the "Frasser" or the one her nepotisti..husband directed, I figure maybe this year is hers?
ps- Just finished "The Visitor". It will win no awards. And it is an incredibly affecting movie. For that, I hope you folks give it a rent.
I like it, because the issue comes out right before the Frasscar's and for some reason always brings me back to when I bought my first issue (Road trip back from Nashville, 1997) and momentos from things like that usually only last the moment you do them. VeeF? Comes out with the issue every year, baby.
So I've had the pleasure this year of seeing almost every movie considered. This is...to be fair...huge. Since the last 6 years or so I'd maybe...MAYBE seen 2 or 4. But we got through a majority, and I'm proud like a kid after his first paper route. Although, and to tie our two themes together:
"The Frassler". Okay. We get it. He's redeemed. His life, his real life, it's all like...the camera is capturing it you know? This guy has needed a break for soooooo long. Where has he been, man?
Well. For starters, he's been in a couple of VeeF Hollywood issues as the "Bad Boy" or some such nonsense. Shirtless. Molesting a chihuahua, and trying to figure out how he was the bomb diggety from 1985-1990 before becoming a pariah.
Well dude. You've had some pretty cool indie films. See-Ann Peen believed in you. And the critics didn't miss it. It was just before indie-films had a chance to be Frasscar winners. Now it's like "Hey...you won an independent spirit award. Let's give you a Frasscar too!".
Wait. What? I thought one was to celebrate independent filmmaking. The other, to say drivel like "Titanic" (Which made a shhhhiteton of money for the academy) with gabillgion dollar budgets got the gold?
There was a movie called "Frass City" that was out two years ago. 'Member? And who played "Marv"? Oh, some guy. Not some guy needing a comeback. Or a film tailor made to his life story, albeit with tights. Nope. He's been there. And bless'em for trying, I just get tired of seeing the dumbed down version of his "rising from the ashes". Folks. He never left the building. They are leading you.
And don't kill me. RDjr is similar. (At this point, most celebrities probably need to build up there shell or don't believe the hype. But let me telllllll you)
Again. A frakkin' great actor. Really. But he's fallen and redeemed so much that he's practically a phoenix. Folks. Just. Ugh. (And "TThunder" is a great, great movie to see what he can do. Really. )
Rant Rant Rant...
Okay.
"Slumfrass" will win a lot. If you read Mpls/StPaul mag, there's an interesting line "It's what the academy loves". So yeah. Sorry, frassers. It is written.
The Ledge? I'd like to see him win. I think he was really good, outside my nerd sentiments, and I've watched the DVD now more times than I care to admit. (And really, I loved having such a visceral memory of a movie experience like I did with "TDK" and my roommate + SO)
The Frassler? Mmmmmno. It's gonna be a Burt Reynolds for him. ("Boogie Nights"? Anyone?)
He was good...as himself...but it isn't Olympic gold, baby.
I'm truncating the frack out of my predictions, but K'winslet is due. There, I said it. And two movies up in the running mean she's favored. And? Apparently she gets nakey in both. Academy, this is dedication. I'm serious.*
*Right, okay. So the MPAA has fracked up seriously in the past with their noms. Yoooou know. The lame ass argument that So-and-So got ROBBED for whatever, only to get an award a year or two later for "House Party 6- House PARTIER!"
I think she's a fine, believable, and enjoyable performer. And having seen neither the "Frasser" or the one her nepotisti..husband directed, I figure maybe this year is hers?
ps- Just finished "The Visitor". It will win no awards. And it is an incredibly affecting movie. For that, I hope you folks give it a rent.
First
Hey. Been a while. Quick public service announcement before the frass.
If you...yeah, you. If you are so frakkin lazy that you have to push your cart up to the- wait for it-
BACK OF THE CART CORRAL!!!
Not into it. Not...not even remotely far off like some poor destitute cart ready for the cart graveyard. I'm talking the acme of laziness. You leave it 12 feet from where it needs to go. Or set next to it in a parking space thinking "N'aaahhhh....someone will move it" (I picture this in a Bugs Bunny voice, so shup)
Gah. People. Just. Push. It's less of a courtesy than opening a door for someone. Why not honk at the person with the walk sign and curse. While you're stopped. GAH!!!
For the record, I had to actually get out of my car and move a cart so I could park next to the cart holder. Perverse, Paranoid thoughts of some ne'er do well running behind me to bogart my vehicle while I do this heroic and altruistic task notwithstanding, I cussed up a blue streak.
If you...yeah, you. If you are so frakkin lazy that you have to push your cart up to the- wait for it-
BACK OF THE CART CORRAL!!!
Not into it. Not...not even remotely far off like some poor destitute cart ready for the cart graveyard. I'm talking the acme of laziness. You leave it 12 feet from where it needs to go. Or set next to it in a parking space thinking "N'aaahhhh....someone will move it" (I picture this in a Bugs Bunny voice, so shup)
Gah. People. Just. Push. It's less of a courtesy than opening a door for someone. Why not honk at the person with the walk sign and curse. While you're stopped. GAH!!!
For the record, I had to actually get out of my car and move a cart so I could park next to the cart holder. Perverse, Paranoid thoughts of some ne'er do well running behind me to bogart my vehicle while I do this heroic and altruistic task notwithstanding, I cussed up a blue streak.
Friday, February 06, 2009
A little self control, pally
Once again, left to fend for myself for an evening I let my questionable bachelory dietary needs overcome my better sense of judgement. I had just returned for a run around the nabe in to take advantage of the gorgeous weather, and upon finishing my stretching I realized two things- I was absolutely ravenous and had absolutely zilch in terms of my normal throw things together staples.
I figured I'd make some simple pasta and when I checked out the stores I saw two packages of rotini that had both been used and both with only slightly less than a third of the contents remaining. Eyeballing them, I immediately figured it'd be enough for slightly more than one serving. Into the pot they went.
Upon completion, I dumped the contents into the strainer when lo and behold the expanded upon contact with oxygen. It more food than one person had any business, but less food than two people could enjoy as a meal. (And the 'Bean had already been to dinner with his daughter at the Sample Room) So I carried it upstairs like an infant and watched the early news with a beer. It was, in fact, more food than I could eat. And when I heard my roommate and his daughter crash through the front door I snuck into my bedroom, set the half-eaten bowl on my Chinese trunk, shut off the light, and pretended to-and eventually did fall- asleep. (Later he would tell me the had a few glasses of gewurtztraminer a piece and were tipsy mipsy.)
Upon waking 45 minutes later, I started picking at it again until it was gone. (This was after my groggy crashed and now ROYALLY sore self asked "Why is there a bowl of pasta by my feet?") Annnnnd started eating it again. All told, I must have consumed 6 cups of pasta over the course of the evening.
If you need me, I'll be the guy training for marathons to burn off the waaaay superfluous calories I consumed. It's called tupperware, buddy. And restraint. Durrrrr...Urp.
I figured I'd make some simple pasta and when I checked out the stores I saw two packages of rotini that had both been used and both with only slightly less than a third of the contents remaining. Eyeballing them, I immediately figured it'd be enough for slightly more than one serving. Into the pot they went.
Upon completion, I dumped the contents into the strainer when lo and behold the expanded upon contact with oxygen. It more food than one person had any business, but less food than two people could enjoy as a meal. (And the 'Bean had already been to dinner with his daughter at the Sample Room) So I carried it upstairs like an infant and watched the early news with a beer. It was, in fact, more food than I could eat. And when I heard my roommate and his daughter crash through the front door I snuck into my bedroom, set the half-eaten bowl on my Chinese trunk, shut off the light, and pretended to-and eventually did fall- asleep. (Later he would tell me the had a few glasses of gewurtztraminer a piece and were tipsy mipsy.)
Upon waking 45 minutes later, I started picking at it again until it was gone. (This was after my groggy crashed and now ROYALLY sore self asked "Why is there a bowl of pasta by my feet?") Annnnnd started eating it again. All told, I must have consumed 6 cups of pasta over the course of the evening.
If you need me, I'll be the guy training for marathons to burn off the waaaay superfluous calories I consumed. It's called tupperware, buddy. And restraint. Durrrrr...Urp.
Wednesday, February 04, 2009
Never been. You?
I realized that I've been to almost all the contiguous continental United States and Canadian Provinces except that I've never been to New Hampshire or Rhode Island.
Am I missing anything?
Am I missing anything?
It's MINE!!!
Any of you folks feel a weird sense of propriety regarding things that aren't yours? In case you think I'm referring to coveting, as one would maybe covet someones house/car/Carla Gugino. I'm referring to a specific habitual behavior which in turn causes your own perception to be one where you have ownership over said "thing". Perhaps examples are in order (And yes, some are gym specific. Deal. And respond with your own examples if you have any):
1) It's MY parking space.
So let's talk work. My early 6 a.m. commute affords me the luxury of getting to the office before most folks and secures my spot a little closer to the entrance of the building. (Which, as I've said before, is still a gazillion feet from the door. Which is no big deal except for below zero days like we've had) It's a four spot radius that is made up of the spots surrounding the tall frassin' parking lot lamp post and I always manage to secure these spots, save holidays when folks who have time off don't come to work and I can park closer to the handicap spot, read: Closer to the front of the building.
Now, it's important to note that I park here for another important reason- Parking in the same spot ensures that I'll remember where I parked every day. Lest I forget. See, when we were getting audited the bigwigs from out East stormed the building. They were there from the early morning to late at night, and they were many. The influx of folks, coupled with construction crews working on the lot I park in forced me to park in one of the other 4 lots.
Yeah. I "lost" my car at least 5 times. Even when I made a conscious effort to remember. You know why? When I park, I'm one of three or four other cars. Fill the lot with other salt-covered muddy cars and it's nigh on impossible.
2) It's MY handicap stall!
SHUT IT! I LIKE THE ROOM! You never know when you'll need to breakdance after your a.m. constitutional!!!
3) It's MY locker!
'Nuff said. At the FrassRoads, #35 is mine. When I see that the locker key is missing, I give an internal "harumph". Same goes for shower stall #1. I mean there are only three stalls, you know? 2 "normies" and the one for folks to sit down and use the hand held shower head. The first one, closest to the towel hooks and least visible to prying eyes, obviously- Mine.
4) It's MY treadmill!
That's right. The acme of frustration is just after the first of the year when the resolution-ists show up and pack my little neighborhood gym. Granted, they taper off toward month-end but it's like trying to navigate through a cluttered play room. MY treadmill, is expertly located in front of the TV that runs NBC. I've got my commute timed out so that if I haul a## from work I can get changed, stretch out, and be off and running by the time "Jeopardy!" starts. (A good distraction, to be sure. And have any of you ever realized how much of an a##hole Trebek can be? Wow.) So imagine my chagrin when there is someone pushing the buttons with a confused look on their face like their hoping one of them dispenses a granola bar and I'm forced to commandeer a treadmill in front of...CNN. Or ESPN 1-2-3-4-5...(Come on. Really? 5 TV's on ESPN?) Yeah. One day, this dude kept pausing his 'mill to step off, get a drink/re-tie his shoe/change songs on his Ipod/say hi to a buddy. I silently wished for schadenfreude in the form of a slip-off ala' America's Funniest Home Videos.
5) It's MY freeway
It just is. Don't mind me. I own the road.
6) It's MY parking space (Home edition)
Just South of my walk way. Parking in front of my house in general, if you aren't a guest, will result in my mental frass at your vehicle coupled with fist-shaking/damn kids-ing.
So what's yours?
Ow...my cold, cold soul
It's finally getting to me. Finally. I have momentary lapses of optimism...Sunshine will do that to you. This. Cold. I think I snapped this morning as I put on my super hero suit under my business casual work duds. I thought to myself, ever so wisely and ever so eloquently: "This s#it f#cking blows"
Negative double digits. Negative wind chill. Negative attitude. When it's so cold it hurts I reserve my MN-given right to b#tch. Yeah, Yeah... we had some milder, practically balmy weather last weekend. And we're promised some more this coming weekend. I don't care. Jack Frost can suck it. Once we get over the bitter hump that is February, we get to contend with our (historically) snowiest month= March. Which, thank GOODNESS, coincides with 4 solid weekends of High School winter sports tourney's. So we get crappy wet snow, crappy road conditions, and out-of-towners-new-to-the-big-city folks clogging the streets.
Then we get April. Which is like the cruel junior high friend who plays to your insecurities to validate themselves in the sense that you don't know if you'll be blessed with a sunny 80 degree hug or 8-10 inches of b#tch slap snowfall.
I guess the grumpdidlikins I'm feelings today are born from the fact that as I took the trash out the other day I was able to make out the faint outline of the garden borders, poking up like a serpent mound in Ohio. (Or a serpent ourobouros since it's techinically an unbroken line.) I got all wistful since I probably can't start thinking about seed catalogs, Farmer's Market visits, or those gorgeous German garlic cloves that are hiding a few inches beneath the soil on the East end.
Negative double digits. Negative wind chill. Negative attitude. When it's so cold it hurts I reserve my MN-given right to b#tch. Yeah, Yeah... we had some milder, practically balmy weather last weekend. And we're promised some more this coming weekend. I don't care. Jack Frost can suck it. Once we get over the bitter hump that is February, we get to contend with our (historically) snowiest month= March. Which, thank GOODNESS, coincides with 4 solid weekends of High School winter sports tourney's. So we get crappy wet snow, crappy road conditions, and out-of-towners-new-to-the-big-city folks clogging the streets.
Then we get April. Which is like the cruel junior high friend who plays to your insecurities to validate themselves in the sense that you don't know if you'll be blessed with a sunny 80 degree hug or 8-10 inches of b#tch slap snowfall.
I guess the grumpdidlikins I'm feelings today are born from the fact that as I took the trash out the other day I was able to make out the faint outline of the garden borders, poking up like a serpent mound in Ohio. (Or a serpent ourobouros since it's techinically an unbroken line.) I got all wistful since I probably can't start thinking about seed catalogs, Farmer's Market visits, or those gorgeous German garlic cloves that are hiding a few inches beneath the soil on the East end.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
And another...random thing
So I succumbed to the peer pressure of Frassbook and posted a list of not 25, but 31 odd random things about yours truly. Since asking Moda if I should post something. (In short, seeing if there would be any interest in the general social networking audience) She said they would, and I started brainstorming. A very bad thing.
So, your frassy flibbertigibbet kept running down the list, on his commute or at the gym. And came up with his freestyle list a few nights ago. Amazing that I actually numbered them, and that Moda came over and fell asleep while I typed and typed and typed. But then I realized that there were more. And so if you have the time and patience, here is the follow up:
1) I. Am. A. Procrastinator. Big time. When I was a kid, I'd hate the pokey way my folks would take me to hockey. I'd always get to the rink as the other kids were exiting on the ice and I'd have to lace up my skates in a rush to get things done and going. Eventually, this would cause me to over estimate the amount of time to complete tasks and I'd tell them I needed to get somewhere 15-20 earlier than I had to. As I got older, my pokey tendencies popped up and now I find myself the bane of others existence when they expect me somewhere on time. The places I'll never show up late are show "calls" or appointments. But damn. Poke Poke Poke.
Many stage managers will hate this tendency. They make lists. The only lists I can make are grocery or X-mas.
That being said, when I do work I work in intense spurts. I have three things totally unrelated that need accomplished (Like today- Garbage out, WD-40 the squeeky doors/deadbolts, toss in laundry, straighten front entry, dust cat-dander off the stairs) I run to do those things right away.
Otherwise? I'm on the couch under a blanket with a book.
2) Least favorite domestic task? I hate folding clothes. Clothing has sat in the basket in the TV room untouched for days while I pick out undies and socks for the week haphazardly. Occasionally, instead of hanging things I'll either hang them behind my bedroom door, or toss them over the garment bar in my closet. That being said?
3) I love tidying. Blame my folks (again) for this. I like order. In my home. I have a few packrattish tendencies remaining (Pictures, toys, yearbooks. F#ck, I won't throw away a t-shirt or jeans until they're practically disintegrating. Except I clean once every two weeks, with a quarterly "deep" cleaning which involves moving furniture and appliances, the top of the fridge, and all the nooks and crannies and woodwork around my house.
4) I'm not very "guy" like. Sports? Meh. Sports on TV? Meh. Don't get me wrong, I'll watch the Super Bowl. (Who, of course, doesn't care for the commercials?) But the things that dudes often get into, I don't. I'm not your bastion of culture by any stretch, I just don't give a rip about how a team played how. Video games? Moved on. I don't need a Wii or a truck. I don't go hunting. Paintball? Meh.
What's funny about my own misguided sense of hypocrisy is that I used to watch Vikings games religiously. Video game sessions over cocktails were my bread and butter. We hunted when we were kids, and in the Boy Scouts I was a crack shot. I know how the games are played enough to not feel in the dark about them, heck I even had a tutorial during the Olympics on how gymnastics were scored.
Just not me.
5) BBQ Sauce instills a Pavlovian response from me. I don't eat much by red meat any more, or chicken with skin. But if a potluck at work has Simeks meatballs in a crockpot? I am a dead man. And your balls will have been eaten.
6) Seafood. When did this happen? Seafood in my family was either tuna in a can or pan-fried breaded bluegill on a plate with a paper towel on it, dipped in ketchup. (Or the bucket of smelt from Village North smelt fries) Now I'm a sucker for it in all of its incarnations. Salmon, Scallops, Cioppino, trout...Crappy enough that it's the most expensive dish on any given menu. And sure, I love oysters. I beat a bet when I was 6 that I could eat a raw one. Love.
While I don't judge, I get a little confused as to the folks that don't like it. And make a deal outta saying "ish".
7) When did I get so scared? So I don't hate heights. Really. I get a weird sense of vertigo (always have) when I look over open railing into open space whether it's 1 story or 6. This, I figure, goes back to walking around City Center during the holidays as a kid and being afraid to fall. Mo and I visited Arches National Park a few years ago and while she was scampering around taking pictures from delicate arch I would hang back leaning against a rock. I told this to my dad who said "This is from the kid who ran out to the end of the bluff with his brother at the Grand Canyon and nearly gave your mother and I a heart attack?" Yeah.
My office has this kind of open floor plan and I have an unnatural fear that some joker will try to push me over the third floor railing. I'm weird.
So, your frassy flibbertigibbet kept running down the list, on his commute or at the gym. And came up with his freestyle list a few nights ago. Amazing that I actually numbered them, and that Moda came over and fell asleep while I typed and typed and typed. But then I realized that there were more. And so if you have the time and patience, here is the follow up:
1) I. Am. A. Procrastinator. Big time. When I was a kid, I'd hate the pokey way my folks would take me to hockey. I'd always get to the rink as the other kids were exiting on the ice and I'd have to lace up my skates in a rush to get things done and going. Eventually, this would cause me to over estimate the amount of time to complete tasks and I'd tell them I needed to get somewhere 15-20 earlier than I had to. As I got older, my pokey tendencies popped up and now I find myself the bane of others existence when they expect me somewhere on time. The places I'll never show up late are show "calls" or appointments. But damn. Poke Poke Poke.
Many stage managers will hate this tendency. They make lists. The only lists I can make are grocery or X-mas.
That being said, when I do work I work in intense spurts. I have three things totally unrelated that need accomplished (Like today- Garbage out, WD-40 the squeeky doors/deadbolts, toss in laundry, straighten front entry, dust cat-dander off the stairs) I run to do those things right away.
Otherwise? I'm on the couch under a blanket with a book.
2) Least favorite domestic task? I hate folding clothes. Clothing has sat in the basket in the TV room untouched for days while I pick out undies and socks for the week haphazardly. Occasionally, instead of hanging things I'll either hang them behind my bedroom door, or toss them over the garment bar in my closet. That being said?
3) I love tidying. Blame my folks (again) for this. I like order. In my home. I have a few packrattish tendencies remaining (Pictures, toys, yearbooks. F#ck, I won't throw away a t-shirt or jeans until they're practically disintegrating. Except I clean once every two weeks, with a quarterly "deep" cleaning which involves moving furniture and appliances, the top of the fridge, and all the nooks and crannies and woodwork around my house.
4) I'm not very "guy" like. Sports? Meh. Sports on TV? Meh. Don't get me wrong, I'll watch the Super Bowl. (Who, of course, doesn't care for the commercials?) But the things that dudes often get into, I don't. I'm not your bastion of culture by any stretch, I just don't give a rip about how a team played how. Video games? Moved on. I don't need a Wii or a truck. I don't go hunting. Paintball? Meh.
What's funny about my own misguided sense of hypocrisy is that I used to watch Vikings games religiously. Video game sessions over cocktails were my bread and butter. We hunted when we were kids, and in the Boy Scouts I was a crack shot. I know how the games are played enough to not feel in the dark about them, heck I even had a tutorial during the Olympics on how gymnastics were scored.
Just not me.
5) BBQ Sauce instills a Pavlovian response from me. I don't eat much by red meat any more, or chicken with skin. But if a potluck at work has Simeks meatballs in a crockpot? I am a dead man. And your balls will have been eaten.
6) Seafood. When did this happen? Seafood in my family was either tuna in a can or pan-fried breaded bluegill on a plate with a paper towel on it, dipped in ketchup. (Or the bucket of smelt from Village North smelt fries) Now I'm a sucker for it in all of its incarnations. Salmon, Scallops, Cioppino, trout...Crappy enough that it's the most expensive dish on any given menu. And sure, I love oysters. I beat a bet when I was 6 that I could eat a raw one. Love.
While I don't judge, I get a little confused as to the folks that don't like it. And make a deal outta saying "ish".
7) When did I get so scared? So I don't hate heights. Really. I get a weird sense of vertigo (always have) when I look over open railing into open space whether it's 1 story or 6. This, I figure, goes back to walking around City Center during the holidays as a kid and being afraid to fall. Mo and I visited Arches National Park a few years ago and while she was scampering around taking pictures from delicate arch I would hang back leaning against a rock. I told this to my dad who said "This is from the kid who ran out to the end of the bluff with his brother at the Grand Canyon and nearly gave your mother and I a heart attack?" Yeah.
My office has this kind of open floor plan and I have an unnatural fear that some joker will try to push me over the third floor railing. I'm weird.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Aged well...
You know? I've probably frassed about this before but I can name the films that I've walked out on from the movie theatre over time. "High Spirits", "The Witches", and the last five minutes of "Joe Versus the Volcano". (1988-1990 were fickle viewing years for me...shup. If it didn't have Van Damme or Swayze in it, it was probably considered unwatchable then. Shup)
That last one...I don't really know why I hated it so much. I didn't connect with the humor, I didn't get the Meg trifecta (and to be clear, all movies with her should have been as dry as "When Harry Met Sally" in my mind. As all movies with Hanks should have been vehicles for his quirky humor ala' "Dragnet" or "Bachelor Party". THAT's how I liked my two leads.) And I'm gonna catch hell for this, but I also thought it was kinda...weird. Brain clouds, and Lloyd Bridges (again, why was he acting so weird?!?) and floating luggage, and WHY IN THE NAME OF F#CK ARE THERE THREE OF HER?!?!?
To be fair, most everything between the ages of 12-15 (depending on your stage of development) can be easily dismissed as being "weird" and followed with an eye roll. "Whatever" didn't catch on until my high school years immediately after. Heck, my 9th grade girlfriend Tracy called me "weird" at lunch on day. We broke up a week later. And I was heartsick.
Years later, thanks to the magic of teh interwebs, I was able to synch up the writer/director to the movie. (Which blew my mind. Of my mind being blown, all I can say is it was and still is the little things that often trip me out.) I had a good old JPS boner in my middle years of college, even agreeing to guest-act in an ex-SO's student production of "Savage in Limbo" after I was done with college I liked it so much. (And really? I think it was kinda my best work. Really) So to find out this guy wrote what I was certain to have remembered as a steaming turd of a film...well all I could say was that some stage writer/directors should probably stay away from different mediums. That is all.
So color me surprised when Moda comes over with it as a choice of films for the night. ("The Wire" was a bunk DVD and I wasn't feeling up for the heavy drama of "Notes on a Frassdal") I know that Moda loves that movie, going as far as to quoting it occasionally. I kept my grandfatherly opinion to myself and said we should watch "Joe" since it seemed like the lesser of two evils.
And from the opening credits, I thought: "Is this a different movie than I remember?"
For starters, I laughed a lot more. (At one point when Mo asked if Ossie Davis was Abe Vigoda) and I "got"it a lot more. Maybe it's 13 years working as a cube jockey, but I realized that this film was pretty damn subversive. In fact, it probably hasn't had an equal since "Office Space" came out in '99. And the f#cked up thing of it is, I kinda thought it'd make for a funny play.
It would be minimalist, sure. But the three Megs could be played by the same actress. I was seeing Ari as the luggage seller. I was ("Amanda Plummer is in this too?") and ("Ohhhhh...that's why he sees the three Megs) and ("That is a funny line")...there was a lonely poignancy about it. And I could relate a bit more.
So there...
...It should be noted in today's rant that I also would love to do a staged version of "A Fish Called Wanda". And yes, I'd like to be Otto. Shup.
That last one...I don't really know why I hated it so much. I didn't connect with the humor, I didn't get the Meg trifecta (and to be clear, all movies with her should have been as dry as "When Harry Met Sally" in my mind. As all movies with Hanks should have been vehicles for his quirky humor ala' "Dragnet" or "Bachelor Party". THAT's how I liked my two leads.) And I'm gonna catch hell for this, but I also thought it was kinda...weird. Brain clouds, and Lloyd Bridges (again, why was he acting so weird?!?) and floating luggage, and WHY IN THE NAME OF F#CK ARE THERE THREE OF HER?!?!?
To be fair, most everything between the ages of 12-15 (depending on your stage of development) can be easily dismissed as being "weird" and followed with an eye roll. "Whatever" didn't catch on until my high school years immediately after. Heck, my 9th grade girlfriend Tracy called me "weird" at lunch on day. We broke up a week later. And I was heartsick.
Years later, thanks to the magic of teh interwebs, I was able to synch up the writer/director to the movie. (Which blew my mind. Of my mind being blown, all I can say is it was and still is the little things that often trip me out.) I had a good old JPS boner in my middle years of college, even agreeing to guest-act in an ex-SO's student production of "Savage in Limbo" after I was done with college I liked it so much. (And really? I think it was kinda my best work. Really) So to find out this guy wrote what I was certain to have remembered as a steaming turd of a film...well all I could say was that some stage writer/directors should probably stay away from different mediums. That is all.
So color me surprised when Moda comes over with it as a choice of films for the night. ("The Wire" was a bunk DVD and I wasn't feeling up for the heavy drama of "Notes on a Frassdal") I know that Moda loves that movie, going as far as to quoting it occasionally. I kept my grandfatherly opinion to myself and said we should watch "Joe" since it seemed like the lesser of two evils.
And from the opening credits, I thought: "Is this a different movie than I remember?"
For starters, I laughed a lot more. (At one point when Mo asked if Ossie Davis was Abe Vigoda) and I "got"it a lot more. Maybe it's 13 years working as a cube jockey, but I realized that this film was pretty damn subversive. In fact, it probably hasn't had an equal since "Office Space" came out in '99. And the f#cked up thing of it is, I kinda thought it'd make for a funny play.
It would be minimalist, sure. But the three Megs could be played by the same actress. I was seeing Ari as the luggage seller. I was ("Amanda Plummer is in this too?") and ("Ohhhhh...that's why he sees the three Megs) and ("That is a funny line")...there was a lonely poignancy about it. And I could relate a bit more.
So there...
...It should be noted in today's rant that I also would love to do a staged version of "A Fish Called Wanda". And yes, I'd like to be Otto. Shup.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Lost and Found
To start off- Your nonsense for the day:
I was really, really looking forward to my soup today and it does NOT disappoint. Chicken and Barley from Progresso rules.
I admire the heck out of the sub-zero joggers in my nabe. Truly. But the dude that vaulted over the snow berm at almost a 90 degree angle in a different trajectory than he was originally going? (Namely, cutting in front of my car without warning) Dude, do NOT look affronted. Get to the end of the sidewalk like everyone else.
"Neither a borrower nor a lender be..." Shakespeare
"F#ck you"...Mamet
That last one is nothing special. Lil' punch line to a joke I heard ages ago.
I'm fairly certain I've lent out a couple of books and DVD's that I haven't seen in a while. I was clued into this when I was over at Ry-Gonn's last week and reminded him that I want my copy of "Watchmen" back to lend to Moda. (He couldn't find it...oh, and sorry for calling you out on that. Awful dickish of me to have done on your birthday. No rush. She won't get to it by the time the movie opens...and you know...it's only the most celebrated graphic novel of all time...ahem. That last bit was for Moda.)
I've had a major jones to watch funky kung fu flicks, and my arsenal is short by two of my favorites- "The Legend of Drunken Master" which you should all. See. The final fight alone is worth the purchase. And "Iron Monkey", where you should all bow at the alter of Donnie Yen. IJS. Well, certainly I cannot survive on "Showdown in Little Tokyo" or "Crouching Frasser" alone? Certainly not.
And while I could survive on "Ghostbuster's" and "Blazing Saddles" to feed my desire for divine comedy, my need to see the "The State" boys riff through 90 minutes of mostly unscripted homage-ing to 80's teen camp films is not putting "Wet Hot American Summer" in my DVD player.
And sure, if I want weird films with extended fight scenes involving a man with a hammer who eats a living raw squid made by a crazy Korean director I could watch old home movies...But that just wouldn't be "Oldboy", would it?
If you have any of these, no need to comment back. No, no...discretion is the better part of valor and all that. Just know that I miss those movies. I miss them a lot.
Sniffle...
I was really, really looking forward to my soup today and it does NOT disappoint. Chicken and Barley from Progresso rules.
I admire the heck out of the sub-zero joggers in my nabe. Truly. But the dude that vaulted over the snow berm at almost a 90 degree angle in a different trajectory than he was originally going? (Namely, cutting in front of my car without warning) Dude, do NOT look affronted. Get to the end of the sidewalk like everyone else.
"Neither a borrower nor a lender be..." Shakespeare
"F#ck you"...Mamet
That last one is nothing special. Lil' punch line to a joke I heard ages ago.
I'm fairly certain I've lent out a couple of books and DVD's that I haven't seen in a while. I was clued into this when I was over at Ry-Gonn's last week and reminded him that I want my copy of "Watchmen" back to lend to Moda. (He couldn't find it...oh, and sorry for calling you out on that. Awful dickish of me to have done on your birthday. No rush. She won't get to it by the time the movie opens...and you know...it's only the most celebrated graphic novel of all time...ahem. That last bit was for Moda.)
I've had a major jones to watch funky kung fu flicks, and my arsenal is short by two of my favorites- "The Legend of Drunken Master" which you should all. See. The final fight alone is worth the purchase. And "Iron Monkey", where you should all bow at the alter of Donnie Yen. IJS. Well, certainly I cannot survive on "Showdown in Little Tokyo" or "Crouching Frasser" alone? Certainly not.
And while I could survive on "Ghostbuster's" and "Blazing Saddles" to feed my desire for divine comedy, my need to see the "The State" boys riff through 90 minutes of mostly unscripted homage-ing to 80's teen camp films is not putting "Wet Hot American Summer" in my DVD player.
And sure, if I want weird films with extended fight scenes involving a man with a hammer who eats a living raw squid made by a crazy Korean director I could watch old home movies...But that just wouldn't be "Oldboy", would it?
If you have any of these, no need to comment back. No, no...discretion is the better part of valor and all that. Just know that I miss those movies. I miss them a lot.
Sniffle...
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Kleening
There is something really cathartic about a top to bottom of the house cleaning. Can't describe it.
Probably because the inhalation of the various chemicals has addled my brain. Wheeeeee!
Probably because the inhalation of the various chemicals has addled my brain. Wheeeeee!
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Vacay at the homestead
So Moda cobbled herself together a nice lil' trip with her mama to the big apple. A treat before she launches full bore into "Hedda" madness, she has been enjoying swank meals and big-big city culture. Already I've been regaled with tales of MOMA visits (Moda goes to MOMA, get it?) Times Square and subway shenanigans, which will culminate tonight in a dose of the big stage version of "Hedda" playing on Broadway.
So instead of being one of those so-called stay at home inactive mopey boyfriends, I chose the road less travelled: Stay at home ACTIVE boyfriends, ya-HA! A vacation at home, with some precious downtime, cleaning, and reflection. Step one, calling in on Friday, a great success.
The rest? Boring as unholy heck.
See, it was going to be filled with cleaning and a possible screening of "My Bloody Valentine 3-D". Or maybe even the Winter Carnival. Heck, a die-hard MN'otan such as myself who hasn't visited since the first ginormous ice palace in '86 OWES it to himself, yeah?
Not so much.
It started off to the positive-
Sleep in a bit after calling in on Friday? Check.
NOT make a bloody Mary to demotivate myself (I was out of V'ka)? Check.
Pack gym bag? Check.
Realize that I'm out of groceries, including creamer? Oh yeah. Bailey's was substituted. Mistake number one.
Frass online. More demotivation. I felt honor-bound to make almost to-the-minute updates to my status, AND respond to well-wishers & nay-sayers alike. Mistake number two.
Read. Two, count'em, TWO issues of Men's Health magazine appeared which weren't gonna read themselves. (A b'day/X-mas gift from RSVP. And really, who doesn't want to know how to super-charge their workouts?) Then it was off to book-ville. For two hours in the TV room. Mistake numero three-o.
I finally brushed my toofs and started my car. Around 1:30pm.
I DID however get out for groceries so that I didn't relinquish myself to take out. I also topped off my tank to combat the wretched cold that was coming and warshed my car which again had taken on the festive color of a dulling bruise due to the salt and road muck.
I made it home in time for, wait for it, a nap. Mistake numero...well who needs to keep track at this point. It's merely day one on my vacation.
The roommate was home, so after a lengthy chat about things that roommates talk about (See previous blog regarding the icicle/sword debacle) I figure dinner was in order since I hadn't eaten since breakfast. At this point, the gym wasn't in the cards. Vacation, buddy. You are on house-arrest vacation. Relax. Enjoy. Keep the blood pressure down. And do not, I repeat, do NOT call out for Chinese take....f#ck it.
Then sit on the couch weighing my options for marathon movie night. A double feature of "Red Dragon" and "Silence of the Lambs" should suffice. Sit with chicken and broccoli, wine, cat, and remote control. Field one call from the lady. Call it a night. Not an epic fail by any means, but hardly productive. The God "Sloth" is pleased with their sacrifice.
Caturday? Today? Wake up thinking I need to go to work. Realize it's Caturday at 5:30am. Dork online. Start to doze again (finally) and roll back into bed. If my roommates incessant warbling of "You're Beautiful (Georgie-Cat)" by James Blunt hadn't knifed through my sub-conscious, I'da been down until noon. As it stands? 10:30am.
Frack.
We end up talking, again, for nearly an hour or so. (Re: 70's fad diets, my mom's Nutri-System membership in the 80's, and how I pretty much kept GNC in business in the early 90's by buying sh#t that had "Mega-_ _ _ _" whatever in the label. More reading.
I have since read, napped, finished the book, and set out cleaning supplies which will invariably wait until tomorrow. I'm not pointing fingers...there are always at least three pointed back at me, but the glass of vino I'm enjoying may very well mean putting off that filthy affair until tomorrow.
Now. Harry Potter movie marathon, or Lord of the Rings.
Life is pretty damn hard.
ps: My resume is, at least, all finished. Now, if any of you has a job for me in a decent salary range I can discontinue my Monster.com email updates. MD? Anything in New Zealand for a creative frasser like myself who is good with people?
So instead of being one of those so-called stay at home inactive mopey boyfriends, I chose the road less travelled: Stay at home ACTIVE boyfriends, ya-HA! A vacation at home, with some precious downtime, cleaning, and reflection. Step one, calling in on Friday, a great success.
The rest? Boring as unholy heck.
See, it was going to be filled with cleaning and a possible screening of "My Bloody Valentine 3-D". Or maybe even the Winter Carnival. Heck, a die-hard MN'otan such as myself who hasn't visited since the first ginormous ice palace in '86 OWES it to himself, yeah?
Not so much.
It started off to the positive-
Sleep in a bit after calling in on Friday? Check.
NOT make a bloody Mary to demotivate myself (I was out of V'ka)? Check.
Pack gym bag? Check.
Realize that I'm out of groceries, including creamer? Oh yeah. Bailey's was substituted. Mistake number one.
Frass online. More demotivation. I felt honor-bound to make almost to-the-minute updates to my status, AND respond to well-wishers & nay-sayers alike. Mistake number two.
Read. Two, count'em, TWO issues of Men's Health magazine appeared which weren't gonna read themselves. (A b'day/X-mas gift from RSVP. And really, who doesn't want to know how to super-charge their workouts?) Then it was off to book-ville. For two hours in the TV room. Mistake numero three-o.
I finally brushed my toofs and started my car. Around 1:30pm.
I DID however get out for groceries so that I didn't relinquish myself to take out. I also topped off my tank to combat the wretched cold that was coming and warshed my car which again had taken on the festive color of a dulling bruise due to the salt and road muck.
I made it home in time for, wait for it, a nap. Mistake numero...well who needs to keep track at this point. It's merely day one on my vacation.
The roommate was home, so after a lengthy chat about things that roommates talk about (See previous blog regarding the icicle/sword debacle) I figure dinner was in order since I hadn't eaten since breakfast. At this point, the gym wasn't in the cards. Vacation, buddy. You are on house-arrest vacation. Relax. Enjoy. Keep the blood pressure down. And do not, I repeat, do NOT call out for Chinese take....f#ck it.
Then sit on the couch weighing my options for marathon movie night. A double feature of "Red Dragon" and "Silence of the Lambs" should suffice. Sit with chicken and broccoli, wine, cat, and remote control. Field one call from the lady. Call it a night. Not an epic fail by any means, but hardly productive. The God "Sloth" is pleased with their sacrifice.
Caturday? Today? Wake up thinking I need to go to work. Realize it's Caturday at 5:30am. Dork online. Start to doze again (finally) and roll back into bed. If my roommates incessant warbling of "You're Beautiful (Georgie-Cat)" by James Blunt hadn't knifed through my sub-conscious, I'da been down until noon. As it stands? 10:30am.
Frack.
We end up talking, again, for nearly an hour or so. (Re: 70's fad diets, my mom's Nutri-System membership in the 80's, and how I pretty much kept GNC in business in the early 90's by buying sh#t that had "Mega-_ _ _ _" whatever in the label. More reading.
I have since read, napped, finished the book, and set out cleaning supplies which will invariably wait until tomorrow. I'm not pointing fingers...there are always at least three pointed back at me, but the glass of vino I'm enjoying may very well mean putting off that filthy affair until tomorrow.
Now. Harry Potter movie marathon, or Lord of the Rings.
Life is pretty damn hard.
ps: My resume is, at least, all finished. Now, if any of you has a job for me in a decent salary range I can discontinue my Monster.com email updates. MD? Anything in New Zealand for a creative frasser like myself who is good with people?
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Happy Birthday!
To my best buddy, loving husband, and new father Ry-Gonn! Happy birthday, friend!
Some quick facts about our relationship over the last 8+ years:
One of our first conversations was at a post-show bonfire. I yelled at him for taping conversations we had with his mini-voice recorder which he used to memorize lines. I told him it was weird.
We used to hang out and play "Jedi Power Battles", "Tekken 3", and "Marvel vs. Capcom" for hours on end.
Have done 8 murder mysteries together, and countless Hallowe'en/X-mas tours. When we work together, we make bank. X-mas time? The senior citizens LOVE us.
We got buzzed and I offered to show him how to spar. So as we geared up, I put a cup on (outside of my shorts) He asked why he didn't get one too, and I said "I won't hit you there". He tagged me three times in the gonads.
On his birthday, oh what, 4-5 years ago? We had our annual Red Lobster birthday hoedown. I made the error of saying "I'm buying, get whatever you want!"...He went right to the most expensive item on the menu (Lobster stuffed ravioli and bacon-wrapped scallops) We teased him about it for the rest of the...well we still do, technically.
His favorite cocktail is the Bulldog. If he goes to Noodles and Co, his preferred dish is Mac and Cheese with Steak. Chipotle? Carnita's burrito.
Happy Inagur...Birthday!!! Many happy returns, friend!
Some quick facts about our relationship over the last 8+ years:
One of our first conversations was at a post-show bonfire. I yelled at him for taping conversations we had with his mini-voice recorder which he used to memorize lines. I told him it was weird.
We used to hang out and play "Jedi Power Battles", "Tekken 3", and "Marvel vs. Capcom" for hours on end.
Have done 8 murder mysteries together, and countless Hallowe'en/X-mas tours. When we work together, we make bank. X-mas time? The senior citizens LOVE us.
We got buzzed and I offered to show him how to spar. So as we geared up, I put a cup on (outside of my shorts) He asked why he didn't get one too, and I said "I won't hit you there". He tagged me three times in the gonads.
On his birthday, oh what, 4-5 years ago? We had our annual Red Lobster birthday hoedown. I made the error of saying "I'm buying, get whatever you want!"...He went right to the most expensive item on the menu (Lobster stuffed ravioli and bacon-wrapped scallops) We teased him about it for the rest of the...well we still do, technically.
His favorite cocktail is the Bulldog. If he goes to Noodles and Co, his preferred dish is Mac and Cheese with Steak. Chipotle? Carnita's burrito.
Happy Inagur...Birthday!!! Many happy returns, friend!
Icicle, Hattori Hanzo style
So I was finishing up a vaccuum job in my TV room, when I noticed right out the window a large dangling icicle. The thing had to be as wide at the top as the end of a Wiffle Ball Bat, and hung about 4 feet down. Now I had seen the thing for the last few weeks now, and thought that it was probably not good to have that weight hanging from the end of my rain gutters. So, as I wrapped the cord I started brainstorming ways to get it down before Spring.
Getting the ice chipper out of the garage seemed feasible. A few quick taps and it'd find its way down lickety split. But it was out in the garage, which meant bundling up and trudging out back...unlocking it...and bringing it back in...and bringing it back out (meaning bring it downstairs to the basement since by then I'd be too lazy to trudge it back out) I mean it was only two feet away! And here I was, right here! If I had longer arms than I already have I could have reached out the window and grabbed the dumb thing. Think, Actor-Pants...thin...AH!
One of the things I'm proud of is my collection of S-words. They currently reside in a vintage "Planet of the Apes" garbage can- A veritable umbrella stand for these edged weapons of savage beauty. Mostly replica's, we have a basket-hilt Claymore a Iaido, mom's old decorative belly-dancing katana. (Which RSVP broke the tip off of a while back and had to use dad's grinder to get it back in the correct shape. Whoops) a Mayan machete...all there. Knowing that they'll never be used for anything other than decoration and the occasional Baby P walking around his house on the phone swinging one around ridiculously...the cat staring...judging.
Hmmmmmm.
I prop open the window and grab the sword I'm least likely to worry about a scuff (the Toledo "El Cid" replica. It was cheap, as evidenced by the rusting handle and the fact that the hilt has a tendency to spin on itself unless tightened periodically) I can't see that actual landing area, but thankfully the central A/C unit is on the other side of the window. So reaching out at arms lenghth I summon the power of Grayskull and start, well, whacking the edge against the highest most portion of the dangling detractor. Me. The latter day bathrobed knight. If someone had a camera just then, they'd see a grown man- hair not yet combed and winging out at angles, teeth...probably not yet brushed. In a robe, sleeveless t-shirt, Santa-clause boxer's, and short "cheerleader" styled socks.
On his knee's.
In front of an open window during the winter time.
Grasping tightly the sill (Lest he, what, get sucked out ala' "2001"?)
Arm extended, sword in hand, delicately tapping the ice flow. Come to think of it, in the position I was kneeling I'm fairly certain my bits were exposed. So put that camera away- NOW!
Well it came down (wOOt!) and at the same time I was coming inside was when I heard a "BANG!!!" ...the sound of a heavy icicle hitting metal. More specifically- the Central A/C unit.
So swords and I...we have a bit of a manky history at best. In short-
1984- jumping up and down on mom's bed wearing a black ski mask and a black 70's track suit of my mothers, waving her belly dancing head-balancing katana like a maniac, poked myself square in the right thigh muscle.
1986- Dressed in camoflague, hacking my way through the jungle with a real machete' (read: Lilac bushes on the property line) coming back to hidden base (read: Fort cobbled together with random lumber and materials from dad's garage) I chop my way to the entrance (A large piece of plexiglass) and chop the top corner of the plexi- which causes a chunk of plexi to fly back and hit my open eye. (Scratching the cornea, resulting in my needing an eye patch for a few days. Yar)
1994- Buy my first sharp edged 440 stainless steel katana. I test the blade with my thumb. 'Nuff said. (At least I could put it back in the scabbard without offending the Gods)
1996- In my bedroom, practice swinging an overhead kote' strike. Strike glass cover over the light fixture, raining glass shards down over my head, cutting my arm.
1999- Stand ridiculously inside my apartment holding the same sword after hearing my complex getting broken into during a police chase and all the screaming. Me+Dark Apartment+ Polka-dot boxers+ drawn katana='s Ridiculous Squared.
2006- Chowie nearly breaks my forearm off swinging a shinai down on it full bore.
2008- Stage combating for a staged reading of "Hank da 4th part da first" and get cut. Do not notice until blood is freely running down my arm.
I'm a hazard to myself.
Getting the ice chipper out of the garage seemed feasible. A few quick taps and it'd find its way down lickety split. But it was out in the garage, which meant bundling up and trudging out back...unlocking it...and bringing it back in...and bringing it back out (meaning bring it downstairs to the basement since by then I'd be too lazy to trudge it back out) I mean it was only two feet away! And here I was, right here! If I had longer arms than I already have I could have reached out the window and grabbed the dumb thing. Think, Actor-Pants...thin...AH!
One of the things I'm proud of is my collection of S-words. They currently reside in a vintage "Planet of the Apes" garbage can- A veritable umbrella stand for these edged weapons of savage beauty. Mostly replica's, we have a basket-hilt Claymore a Iaido, mom's old decorative belly-dancing katana. (Which RSVP broke the tip off of a while back and had to use dad's grinder to get it back in the correct shape. Whoops) a Mayan machete...all there. Knowing that they'll never be used for anything other than decoration and the occasional Baby P walking around his house on the phone swinging one around ridiculously...the cat staring...judging.
Hmmmmmm.
I prop open the window and grab the sword I'm least likely to worry about a scuff (the Toledo "El Cid" replica. It was cheap, as evidenced by the rusting handle and the fact that the hilt has a tendency to spin on itself unless tightened periodically) I can't see that actual landing area, but thankfully the central A/C unit is on the other side of the window. So reaching out at arms lenghth I summon the power of Grayskull and start, well, whacking the edge against the highest most portion of the dangling detractor. Me. The latter day bathrobed knight. If someone had a camera just then, they'd see a grown man- hair not yet combed and winging out at angles, teeth...probably not yet brushed. In a robe, sleeveless t-shirt, Santa-clause boxer's, and short "cheerleader" styled socks.
On his knee's.
In front of an open window during the winter time.
Grasping tightly the sill (Lest he, what, get sucked out ala' "2001"?)
Arm extended, sword in hand, delicately tapping the ice flow. Come to think of it, in the position I was kneeling I'm fairly certain my bits were exposed. So put that camera away- NOW!
Well it came down (wOOt!) and at the same time I was coming inside was when I heard a "BANG!!!" ...the sound of a heavy icicle hitting metal. More specifically- the Central A/C unit.
So swords and I...we have a bit of a manky history at best. In short-
1984- jumping up and down on mom's bed wearing a black ski mask and a black 70's track suit of my mothers, waving her belly dancing head-balancing katana like a maniac, poked myself square in the right thigh muscle.
1986- Dressed in camoflague, hacking my way through the jungle with a real machete' (read: Lilac bushes on the property line) coming back to hidden base (read: Fort cobbled together with random lumber and materials from dad's garage) I chop my way to the entrance (A large piece of plexiglass) and chop the top corner of the plexi- which causes a chunk of plexi to fly back and hit my open eye. (Scratching the cornea, resulting in my needing an eye patch for a few days. Yar)
1994- Buy my first sharp edged 440 stainless steel katana. I test the blade with my thumb. 'Nuff said. (At least I could put it back in the scabbard without offending the Gods)
1996- In my bedroom, practice swinging an overhead kote' strike. Strike glass cover over the light fixture, raining glass shards down over my head, cutting my arm.
1999- Stand ridiculously inside my apartment holding the same sword after hearing my complex getting broken into during a police chase and all the screaming. Me+Dark Apartment+ Polka-dot boxers+ drawn katana='s Ridiculous Squared.
2006- Chowie nearly breaks my forearm off swinging a shinai down on it full bore.
2008- Stage combating for a staged reading of "Hank da 4th part da first" and get cut. Do not notice until blood is freely running down my arm.
I'm a hazard to myself.
God'll get ya...
That's what my mom would say if you ever accidentally injured yourself. (The hint, meaning you did something blasphemous and "God gets you back". If you swear, then bark your shin? God gets ya.)
Well I got got by God last Friday. Heading into the parking lot at work last Friday, my mind fixed on the pending 3-day weekend, I started cursing up a blue streak as someone tore a$$ past me at at LEAST 30+ MPH. (Posted limits are 10mph) Now for our Non-MN readers, after recent snowfalls the demarcation between parking spaces is somewhat difficult to determine. Ergo, people start parking all higgledy piggledy nimby wimby, over lines, sideways, perpindicular. No parking lines ='s Mass hysteria.
Well the snow was clear enough that I was able to park well enough within my space when I see speedy Maru getting out of their vehicle, stemming another muttered utterance of cursing about their ability to drive, what their hurry was, if they were-in fact-suffering from a sight impairment or a weighted right foot. Yeah. Throw in some F-bombs and the fecal description of their brain matter, you'll have my monologue.
As I step out of my car, I place my foot on a chunk of road ice someone had either kicked off or had fallen off a wheel well. Placing my full weight on it before realizing it would smush, I proceeded to "roll" my ankle at an outward angle. That, friends, caused a shooting pain to fire its way up my leg to my lower back. More cursing ensued.
To get it out of the way, lest I forget at the end of the day and repeat my error, I casually throw a kick at it to boot it under my car- Not realizing of course that (A) it was frozen cemented to the ground and (B) had frozen to a consistency roughly that of concrete. I caught it full on the upper ball of my foot/big toe. THAT pain was a unique experience unto itself and I shall not share it on this blog. I won't. It was nearly spiritual.
Hobbling in to work, I reminded my self of the phrase "God'll get ya" and hence- the foundation of today's bliggity blog.
ps- I didn't notice it that evening, or even the next day. But under the harsh fluorescent glare in the locker room shower, that sucker took on a shade of dark purple that nearly made me woozy.
It was still in the low negative double digits
Well I got got by God last Friday. Heading into the parking lot at work last Friday, my mind fixed on the pending 3-day weekend, I started cursing up a blue streak as someone tore a$$ past me at at LEAST 30+ MPH. (Posted limits are 10mph) Now for our Non-MN readers, after recent snowfalls the demarcation between parking spaces is somewhat difficult to determine. Ergo, people start parking all higgledy piggledy nimby wimby, over lines, sideways, perpindicular. No parking lines ='s Mass hysteria.
Well the snow was clear enough that I was able to park well enough within my space when I see speedy Maru getting out of their vehicle, stemming another muttered utterance of cursing about their ability to drive, what their hurry was, if they were-in fact-suffering from a sight impairment or a weighted right foot. Yeah. Throw in some F-bombs and the fecal description of their brain matter, you'll have my monologue.
As I step out of my car, I place my foot on a chunk of road ice someone had either kicked off or had fallen off a wheel well. Placing my full weight on it before realizing it would smush, I proceeded to "roll" my ankle at an outward angle. That, friends, caused a shooting pain to fire its way up my leg to my lower back. More cursing ensued.
To get it out of the way, lest I forget at the end of the day and repeat my error, I casually throw a kick at it to boot it under my car- Not realizing of course that (A) it was frozen cemented to the ground and (B) had frozen to a consistency roughly that of concrete. I caught it full on the upper ball of my foot/big toe. THAT pain was a unique experience unto itself and I shall not share it on this blog. I won't. It was nearly spiritual.
Hobbling in to work, I reminded my self of the phrase "God'll get ya" and hence- the foundation of today's bliggity blog.
ps- I didn't notice it that evening, or even the next day. But under the harsh fluorescent glare in the locker room shower, that sucker took on a shade of dark purple that nearly made me woozy.
It was still in the low negative double digits
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Sub-Zero...WINS!!!
6:00- Wakes up. Amazed...amazed, mind you, that he slept through the night. Thank you, chamomille and Jack.
6:02- shuffles over to turn on PC to check his business
6:02 to 6:06- Time to make potty
6:07- Turns on sink to warm up, shoves toofbrush in mouth (chewing it, mostly) opens web browser
6:08- Blinded by the glare of Mozilla Google Start Pages "whiteness" in the dark, fumbles to type "Y-A" in the browser.
6:09- 4 messages! Cool. Temperature in the Twin Cites: -23 degrees F.
Not cool.
So:
Underwear- Check (You may laugh, but a cutting 45 below windchill can go through layers and frostbite your bits!)
Long undershirt- Check
Long undiepants- Check (They don't match, btw. F#ck a bunch of fashion)
Thick wooly socks- Check
T-Shirt over long undershirt- Check
Jeans- Check
Sweater- Check
Hat- Check (Sorry hair)
Gloves- Check
Scarf- Check
12 year old Columbia jacket with liner- Check
If I owned that heavy duty Carhart construction worker snowmobile suit? I'd probably wear that too.
I trundle out to start my car 20 minutes before leaving. It takes a second. It takes me a second to notice that my overhead light doesn't come on right away when the door is open. (Thank you, Stinson Auto, for my new battery.)
I really obsess over the cold. It's true. I think all MN residents do too, to a degree. So, for all my international readers who may be viewing this from warmer climates. ( I just cracked myself up with that one) It's officially so cold, it hurts. I packed an extra hat and gloves in my briefcase. I haven't been to the gym so far this week in spite of having my gym bag with me because it's so cold that it saps my energy just being outside (The closest I've came was Great Dragon, but dangit. Nothing says "comfort" like chicken and brocolli over rice with extra hot mustard).
Here is my email to the gang this morning, which Moda calls poetry:
Cold.
Cold.
Cold.
Cold.
It hurt going from my building to my car*. It hurt going from my car inside. It hurt running out to top my tank off at the gas station and add HEET to it in order to ensure that my car starts in the morning. (That hurt especially. Since you have to stand around cleaning off salt from your headlights and windshield since it's still too cold to try and use your wipers)
Ish.
I figure it could be worse. Chicago has it pretty rough I hear tell. (Stay WARM Magroo!!)
*It should be noted, that even the handicapped parking spaces are at least 100 yards from the entrance. Even at a brisk trot, and the fact that I start my shift at the boot crack of dawn, meant wind burn on my exposed pieces.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
The shivers...
This morning, it was - 13 degree's and a 30 below windchill. Windchill advisory. The coldest a.m. start since February of 2007. (Although the previous February, I recall it being so cold that even my car heater couldn't compensate. That'd be the night I saw "12th Night" at TRP and spent the night at Moda's Hobbit Hole in Uptown...sans heat. Yeah. We huddled around her stove like vagrants around a burning trash can)
Now the snowy commute last night sucked, but that was just because it was slow. This morning was a whoooole new kettle of fish. There were, literally, 12 accidents on my way in this morning. These ranged from spinouts on the off ramp (Two were only 100 feet from each other on the 94 to 494 exit) to full blown glass strewn across the road with crumpled fenders and bumpers.
- 13 degree's. And even colder by Thursday. This s#It makes me want to move to South America. Slather on Coppertone. Eat mangos...or papaya's. I don't even know if I like papaya's.
I like margarita's. This is definitely not a margarita climate.
Now the snowy commute last night sucked, but that was just because it was slow. This morning was a whoooole new kettle of fish. There were, literally, 12 accidents on my way in this morning. These ranged from spinouts on the off ramp (Two were only 100 feet from each other on the 94 to 494 exit) to full blown glass strewn across the road with crumpled fenders and bumpers.
- 13 degree's. And even colder by Thursday. This s#It makes me want to move to South America. Slather on Coppertone. Eat mangos...or papaya's. I don't even know if I like papaya's.
I like margarita's. This is definitely not a margarita climate.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Sue-She
I made that. Me.
Today's blog* is brought to you by the letter "Mo". (Who I'm fairly certain wants me to post an online declaration of her awesomeness at picking out birthday presents.) THIS particular gift was in the form of a sushi chef's knife, bottle of sake' (pictured behind said sushi) and a sushi making class offered at Tanpopo in Stipples. Yee Haw.
I woke up early on Sunday in a giddy birthday mood, forcing Mo to get up too. We scarfed a bit of breakfast (knowing that having to wait to eat may have been deadly) before skedaddling out to our 11-2pm class. From there we took our stations at got a-learnin'. We fanned the rice, looked at the variety of fishes. (The coolest bit? The enormous yellowtail she took out and carved while telling us the good versus the bad bits. It was literally fresh off the boat.) We started with a couple of inside out rolls, before butterflying shrimp and creating nagiri. From there, we moved on to more traditional rolls. (Which I thouroughly f#cked the heck up. Note to self- Not so much rice and filling, mmkay?) All the while, popping the occasional roll in our mouths (Or in my case- eating the spicy tuna and spicy crab mixtures directly from the serving bowl. You'll notice a random asparagus on top of the tray? That was no accident. That was pure gluttony.)
And yeah, I was excitable. Maybe even "gregarious to the point of being obnoxious to the other students/instructor". But it was exciting. And it was fun. And if I had the disposable income, I'd love taking all sorts of cooking classes. Thai, Indian, Italian...Mmmmm...
Well, that magnificent looking tray up there? Well from the end of class to nearly 8pm I spent thoughtfully mowing through the contents, (While periodically sipping sake. Hey! The sake serving set in my China Hutch isn't going to use itself!) Which meant I went to bed stuffed, AND early. Put it this way, I didn't make it through the first hour of the Golden Globes.
Yeah. I probably shoulda invited FeeJ over to help with that. Sorry FeeJ!
*I pronouned blog with a long "O". Blog-Blog-Blog. Cracked me up.
Friday, January 09, 2009
You don't fool me, Snuggie...
Ohhhhh, don't get me started. So they're pimping this...thing. Right? It starts off with a woman on a couch, under a blanket, struggling to keep the blanket covering her body and trying to read a book at the same time. Life is hard. Mind you, they have the appropriate bluish/gray gel over the screen in order to give those who don't appreciate this womans "acting-cold" talents the sense that "heeeey...it DOES look like she's cold. Her home is BLUE for God's sake!!!"Cut away to the happy actors buried in their SNUGGIES!!! A warm fleece blanket...WITH SLEEVES!!! Look, perfect for reclining with a book and a spot of tea. Cuddling is a SNAP with a snuggie! PERFECT for dorm rooms. The ESSENTIAL item for cold days. Why go on LIVING if you don't have a SNUGGIE! AND we'll throw in SLIPPERS!
Wait. What? Why would you wear slippers inside that stupid thing? Moreover, I noticed onnnnnne tiny detail left out of the commercial and is potentially setting up their company to be in an actionable position.
Nobody is standing. In fact, they don't show any attempts at mobility from any of the actors. They're all in various reclining, relaxed postures. Perhaps hoping that through mere apathy, sloth, and willpower you someday will actually turn the Snuggie into your own fleece skintight casing.
No, I also think you wouldn't be able to walk in the dang thing. That's right. Any hopes of mobility will make you wind up like Maggie Simpson without a balloon tied around her waist.
IJS
Huh. I did not know that.
Ben Weider passed away last year on my mom's birthday. He was the co-founder of the Internation Federation of Body Builders with his little brother Joe. I figure most folks have never heard of the guy, but I used to read about the dude constantly.
Before I hit pooberty, I looked like the cherubic little cutie on the right. When I had the old growth spurt between 8th and 9th grade (and after a gym class on weightlifting) I was hooked on working out. I familiarized myself with all the free weights, Nautilus, machines, and even brushed off the old K-Bel dumbells in the garage. (Remember those? Poured concrete covered in plastic? Granted I did like, two exercises with'em.)
Mom was most supportive, and many a trip was made to the local GNC where I could experiment with various supplements, oils, pills, drinks, bars, etc. And while I was at the ol' Brookdale GNC, I picked up my first issue of Muscle and Fitness. And I collected them religiously over the next few years. (Along with MuscleMag, Flex, Men's Fitness, etc.) Well in those fitness rags-which invariably were 80% advertising and 100% recycled recipes/routines- the name Weider came up all the time.
The guys who revolutionized modern fitness as we know it, brought it to the spot light, gave us new exercises and took the narcissistic stigma away from bodybuilding in general. Heck, the guy was nominated for a Nobel award AND was a Bonaparte scholar. Crazy.
Anyway, he's gone now. And an article I read at the gym (IRONY) said it best when it said "I guess I never thought he'd be gone. He's always just been this prescence that you knew was there. "
That'll learn my ego-centric self.
Thursday, January 08, 2009
Compliment?
If you think that I'm getting bulked up...in better shape..."cut"...whatever- Saying "You're getting bigger" might get construed as a cap on moi. And we dysmorph's stew on that.
KTHXBYE!
KTHXBYE!
Serves you right...
From MPR this morning. (Paraphrased, but the details are accurate)
"Several ice fishing house were broken into in Northern MN which has resulted in hundreds of dollars worth of goods, including fishing equipment and propane tanks."
"Ice fishing houses on Lake Minnetonka were robbed last week. Items include stereo equipment, propane tanks, and flat screen TV's. Estimates as to the amount of goods that were stolen are around $7,000."
Sighs...
You know something? I always thought that ice fishing was a moment of Zen for guys when their wives kicked them out. Sit in a shanty over a dark hole. Eating beef jerky from the local gas station. Swilling PBR out of the can. (Or Wild Turkey if that's your thing.) Breathing in propane heated air (And the occasional prrrt) while hoping to land a muskie or Northern when you'll probably walk away with some perch, blue gills, or a sauger.
Flat screen TV's? Really? Ain't you got no mama? And here I thought the acme of our societies overzealousness for entertainment was when they started putting DVD player's in Mini-van's and SUV's. I mean, s#it, we had to get away with reading while our parents yelled at us to "PUT DOWN THE BOOKS AND LOOK AT NATURE!!!"
"Several ice fishing house were broken into in Northern MN which has resulted in hundreds of dollars worth of goods, including fishing equipment and propane tanks."
"Ice fishing houses on Lake Minnetonka were robbed last week. Items include stereo equipment, propane tanks, and flat screen TV's. Estimates as to the amount of goods that were stolen are around $7,000."
Sighs...
You know something? I always thought that ice fishing was a moment of Zen for guys when their wives kicked them out. Sit in a shanty over a dark hole. Eating beef jerky from the local gas station. Swilling PBR out of the can. (Or Wild Turkey if that's your thing.) Breathing in propane heated air (And the occasional prrrt) while hoping to land a muskie or Northern when you'll probably walk away with some perch, blue gills, or a sauger.
Flat screen TV's? Really? Ain't you got no mama? And here I thought the acme of our societies overzealousness for entertainment was when they started putting DVD player's in Mini-van's and SUV's. I mean, s#it, we had to get away with reading while our parents yelled at us to "PUT DOWN THE BOOKS AND LOOK AT NATURE!!!"
Wednesday, January 07, 2009
Sidenote-
To piggyback on that last post-
No, Fitness Frassroads. I do not think a foam roller would have made a great holiday gift. In fact, if I were to receive that pool-toy looking piece of crap I would bopped the sender on the head with it.
Sincerely,
A frassy consumer
No, Fitness Frassroads. I do not think a foam roller would have made a great holiday gift. In fact, if I were to receive that pool-toy looking piece of crap I would bopped the sender on the head with it.
Sincerely,
A frassy consumer
Hygienical Gym Question...
Heck, even an "at home" hygiene question- When you soap up in the shower do you use a vehicle to assist in cleaning yourself up or do you just push the soap around? I mean, it's simply a surficant so I'd think all you do is lather up but it really does nothing in terms of cleanliness.
I only bring this up because of a conversation I had with Moda last weekend where I asked the same question which bore the response "Why...because you use a poof?" with the accompanying stare which said to me: "Do you know how I know you're gay? You use a poof at the gym".
No. I think the important issue is utilizing said poof (or a washcloth, loofah, whatever) as an exfoliating vehicle. Merely pushing the soap around to create lather in and of itself does nothing. (In my mind) So using something to remove the superfluous molting epidermal layers via sloughing should not be looked down upon. I guess since I sweat like it was going out of fashion I feel kinda gross anyway after my workouts so the extra scruba-lubbing diminishes that feeling. (Until I start to sweat again after dressing. Hooray for fat kid metabolisms)
Anyway,
I'm already experiencing the post-New Years misanthropy that goes with being a regular gym rat. I usually hustle there after work so I can sequester a treadmill in front of the TV that plays "Jeopardy". (Yes, I'm that OCD/Anal that I can time the time it takes to get to the gym, stretch, do my abs, and hop on a treadmill. SUCK IT!) Except this shining new face come durpy durping out of the locker room right after I did, grabs a towel, and gets on MY TREADMILL!!! I start mentally ripping on his running form, outfit, Ipod, pace...Yeah. Then the one next to it had an older woman wearing what looked like a pants suit walking her hearts content on the next one. (And she. Had. Too. Much. Perfume on. At the gym) I will love late January when the weekend warriors/Resolutioners start to talk themselves out of gym visits.
I just don't want to have to start going at 5am. Ugh. I should, I should...
Lastly...How. How is it that these ginormous bodybuilding dudes- You know. The one's wearing the Under Armour brand spandex shirts and matching tights. Thick worn leather weight belt. Sweat band. Wrist wrap support gloves. Brand new shiny white kicks.
How is it that they can walk in, go over to the squat rack, lower the bar, load 4 plates on each side, grab it, lift it, step back, do a single shrug (Accompanied by an exhale of air that sounds like "WHUT!!!") Step away. Unload the plates...Annnnd they're done.
WTF?
I only bring this up because of a conversation I had with Moda last weekend where I asked the same question which bore the response "Why...because you use a poof?" with the accompanying stare which said to me: "Do you know how I know you're gay? You use a poof at the gym".
No. I think the important issue is utilizing said poof (or a washcloth, loofah, whatever) as an exfoliating vehicle. Merely pushing the soap around to create lather in and of itself does nothing. (In my mind) So using something to remove the superfluous molting epidermal layers via sloughing should not be looked down upon. I guess since I sweat like it was going out of fashion I feel kinda gross anyway after my workouts so the extra scruba-lubbing diminishes that feeling. (Until I start to sweat again after dressing. Hooray for fat kid metabolisms)
Anyway,
I'm already experiencing the post-New Years misanthropy that goes with being a regular gym rat. I usually hustle there after work so I can sequester a treadmill in front of the TV that plays "Jeopardy". (Yes, I'm that OCD/Anal that I can time the time it takes to get to the gym, stretch, do my abs, and hop on a treadmill. SUCK IT!) Except this shining new face come durpy durping out of the locker room right after I did, grabs a towel, and gets on MY TREADMILL!!! I start mentally ripping on his running form, outfit, Ipod, pace...Yeah. Then the one next to it had an older woman wearing what looked like a pants suit walking her hearts content on the next one. (And she. Had. Too. Much. Perfume on. At the gym) I will love late January when the weekend warriors/Resolutioners start to talk themselves out of gym visits.
I just don't want to have to start going at 5am. Ugh. I should, I should...
Lastly...How. How is it that these ginormous bodybuilding dudes- You know. The one's wearing the Under Armour brand spandex shirts and matching tights. Thick worn leather weight belt. Sweat band. Wrist wrap support gloves. Brand new shiny white kicks.
How is it that they can walk in, go over to the squat rack, lower the bar, load 4 plates on each side, grab it, lift it, step back, do a single shrug (Accompanied by an exhale of air that sounds like "WHUT!!!") Step away. Unload the plates...Annnnd they're done.
WTF?
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
Why so S*A*D?
While convalescing, I decided to organize the CD puddle that was spilling out of my soft sided case. (It's full now, and with gifts coming in the form of mix and burned CD's, I tend to come away with more jewel cases than I know what to do with, meaning my case is bulging at the seams. It also means I need a better way of organizing my CD's)
Well one of those CD's was an X-Mas mix that I'd played a few times over the last few weeks that was a gift from D and A back in 2007 which has got a fairly eclectic and very non-annoying array of Christmas tunes. Sliding it back in the case, I was reminded that here we are. It is now after the first of the New Year. And from here on out, winter is going to seem less cheer-y and more winter-y.
So for the next few months until mid-to-late April, my soul is going to enter a dark world that can only be described as a bleak, cold, blustery, and desolate place. Very similar to the outpost stationed in John Carpenter's "The Thing" only without the coolness of Kurt Russell.
In fact, the only thing that cheered me up was that I discovered on MCN an infomercial for a X-Mas DVD (You know...only 8 days after "the day"*) I first saw this guy last year and neglected to write down his information because "HOLY S#IT HE CAN PLAY TWO RECORDERS AT ONCE!!!" (Moda made an unkind comment about what the two tubes looked like when he blew them-) Hint- Watch the video preview for "Village of Dreams". The German (Pronounced "Chur-mahn") grampa character gives me the shivers.
http://www.davidyoungmusic.com/slideshow.asp
Ahem. Hey, man. Good for you and your recorders.
Happy Deep of Winter, everyone. If it hadn't gotten so mind-numbingly cold so soon I would be b#tching about the upcoming deep freeze. At this point, after having busted out the long undiepants SEVERAL times already, the point seems kinda moot.
*This is from the guy that is dragging his feet taking down his tree. If you follow the myth of the 12 days of X-mas I shoulda had her down yesterday. (Ornaments and decorations left up after the 12th day are supposedly bad luck)
Well one of those CD's was an X-Mas mix that I'd played a few times over the last few weeks that was a gift from D and A back in 2007 which has got a fairly eclectic and very non-annoying array of Christmas tunes. Sliding it back in the case, I was reminded that here we are. It is now after the first of the New Year. And from here on out, winter is going to seem less cheer-y and more winter-y.
So for the next few months until mid-to-late April, my soul is going to enter a dark world that can only be described as a bleak, cold, blustery, and desolate place. Very similar to the outpost stationed in John Carpenter's "The Thing" only without the coolness of Kurt Russell.
In fact, the only thing that cheered me up was that I discovered on MCN an infomercial for a X-Mas DVD (You know...only 8 days after "the day"*) I first saw this guy last year and neglected to write down his information because "HOLY S#IT HE CAN PLAY TWO RECORDERS AT ONCE!!!" (Moda made an unkind comment about what the two tubes looked like when he blew them-) Hint- Watch the video preview for "Village of Dreams". The German (Pronounced "Chur-mahn") grampa character gives me the shivers.
http://www.davidyoungmusic.com/slideshow.asp
Ahem. Hey, man. Good for you and your recorders.
Happy Deep of Winter, everyone. If it hadn't gotten so mind-numbingly cold so soon I would be b#tching about the upcoming deep freeze. At this point, after having busted out the long undiepants SEVERAL times already, the point seems kinda moot.
*This is from the guy that is dragging his feet taking down his tree. If you follow the myth of the 12 days of X-mas I shoulda had her down yesterday. (Ornaments and decorations left up after the 12th day are supposedly bad luck)
Monday, January 05, 2009
Again, with the tales of Veggie...
I feel that not having a character on "Veggie Tales" based on the noble avocado is akin to vegetable racism. While we're at it, let's get a bulb of garlic in there. Mm'kay?
ps: Happy Belated birthday Sssssteve. Your twin brother actually friended me on Frassbook which meant I could re-verify the date. Because you're twins. Dig? And why, burrito, are you not on FRASSBOOK!
Luddite.
ps: Happy Belated birthday Sssssteve. Your twin brother actually friended me on Frassbook which meant I could re-verify the date. Because you're twins. Dig? And why, burrito, are you not on FRASSBOOK!
Luddite.
A little of moi...
It is my full intention to write a new (hopefully short) post every day this week. This weekend presented far too many riffable observances to not let go un-commented. I'm serious. And they all happened in the span of, like, 3 hours. (Reading subtitles on the treadmill will do that to you. You end up focusing on the details in the pictures)
To start things off, a ganked meme from Moda's blog (themoped.wordpress.com) :
1. What did you do in 2008 that you’d never done before? ASM'ed a show; started a vegetable garden and reaped its unbelievable bounty all summer long; went on a Cruise;
2. Did you keep your new years’ resolutions, and will you make more for next year? Resolutions are for chumps! Kidding. I kind of effed up. It's been the same every year and I am (A) Still in debt and (B) had to buy huskie boy jeans.
3. Did anyone close to you give birth? My brother and sister-in-law. Ry-Gonn and Julie. The Frethemases
4. Did anyone close to you die? Not that I'm aware.
5. What countries did you visit? Mexico. A really filthy city in Mexico. Oh, and Catalina island.
6. What would you like to have in 2009 that you lacked in 2008? Piece of mind. A reduced waist size.
7. What date(s) from 2008 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? The cruise in March. Building my garden in May. Hosting a bride/groom BBQ for 50 people, then acting out "Ghostbusters" for two littlle kid guests. Tallen's birthday the next day and the hurricane that nearly stopped it. July 4th cruise. Taylor's Falls for hiking and kibbutzing. My niece's berf on August 14th. Fringe festival. Working a anime convention. Dinner/game nights. When the stock market started going kerflooey. November 4th. Thanksgiving at my house. The coldest December in ages. Myyyyy birthday! (Well, that last one isn't etched so much as it's like a sidewalk chalk drawing that got in the way of a sprinkler.
8. What was your biggest achievement of the year? ASM'ing an awesome show. My GARDEN! Finishing the front porch. Hosting the Bean's BBQ. Cooking many delicious meals. Learning how to cut food appropriately with good knives and getting an Epicurious cutting board. Going to the gym regularly. Being in a fairly well attended and received Fringe show. Seeing my girlfriend perform in her shows at least twice each.
9. What was your biggest failure? Not traveling enough. My car. Not squirreling away cash to help alleviate my personal debt. Not seeing a lot of movies on the big screen. Not getting to karate more. Not spending enough time with buddies
10. Did you suffer any illness or injury? I had a couple of colds, some really sore post-gym visits, and my most recent bout of, f#ck, I don't know. Consumption? "I gots the black spot on mah lung, pa."
11. What was the best thing you bought? A cruise for me and mah beeb. A good cutting board..
12. Whose behavior merited celebration? What does this even mean, Corky?
13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed? Judge not (publically, on your blog), lest ye be judged (publically, on a blog). And it's market volatility, I know, but f#ck all it sucked when folks around my office started getting let go.
14. Where did most of your money go? Bills, Bills, Mortgage, Bills, Cruise
15. What did you get really, really, really excited about? The Cruise. Mah berfday. Mah niece. "The Dark Knight" and "Iron Man". The "Watchmen" trailer. Sneaking Mo's presents into the Theater Garage without her knowledge.
16. What songs will always remind you of 2008? “White Winter Hymnal” –Fleet Foxes, "Polite Dance Song"- The Bird and the Bee, "Grapevine Fires"- Death Cab for Cutie, "Fidelity"- Regina Spektor.
17. Compared to this time last year, are you happier or sadder? I’m probably about even.
18. What do you wish you’d done more of? Travel. Save dough. Get cast in shows
19. What do you wish you’d done less of? $Worry about$. Frassed
20. How did you spend Christmas? It was epic and exhausting. (See previous posts) And apparently I have the constitution of a bull if I went from champagne, to a martini, to a glass of wine, to Scotch, to however many cocktails the Market gave up, a kamikaze, and more Scotch.
21. Did you fall in love in 2008? I stayed in love with my girlfriend, and really knew that when I tell my family and friends that I love them that I mean it with all my heart.
22. How many one-night stands? I have one nightstand.
23. What was your favorite TV program? "Heroes". Get better, Heroes, or I kick you in the nards.
24. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year? Not really. Sometimes when I see the "legacy" W is leaving behind it raises my ire.
25. What was the best book you read? I loved "American Gods", "It's Superman!", and "Garlic and Sapphires"
26. What was your greatest musical discovery? Fleet Foxes; The Bird and the Bee, Death Cab for Cutie, Dan Wilson's latest, Regina Spektor, and Blitzen Trapper
27. What did you want to get? Growth, Peace, Joy, a flat screen TV
28. What was your favorite film of this year? "The Dark Knight". Yeah, Yeah. "Don't break your leg jumping on the bandwagon there, P!!!"
29. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you? I was celebrating the 13th anniversary of my 21st birthday and avoiding alcohol poisoning/Pulling a Jimi Hendrix.
30. What one thing made your year immeasurably more satisfying? Moda. Becoming an uncle/Godmother.
31. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2008? Clothes are overrated. Seriously? I'm lucky if my socks match. I am fashion clutter.
32. What kept you sane? Mo, Folks, Booze, Books, teh Interwebs, .
33. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? Obama. Tina Fey.
34. What political issue stirred you the most? The election. Proposition 8. And more recently, the hubub on the Gaza Strip.
35. Who did you miss? Ryan, Adam, and Steve respectively
36. Who was the best new person you met? I thought Larry Roupe was pretty awesome
37. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2008? Do not watch soft core pr0n when you think your roommate will be out all night. You will be uncomfortable as he peeks in every so often to see what scene you are on.
To start things off, a ganked meme from Moda's blog (themoped.wordpress.com) :
1. What did you do in 2008 that you’d never done before? ASM'ed a show; started a vegetable garden and reaped its unbelievable bounty all summer long; went on a Cruise;
2. Did you keep your new years’ resolutions, and will you make more for next year? Resolutions are for chumps! Kidding. I kind of effed up. It's been the same every year and I am (A) Still in debt and (B) had to buy huskie boy jeans.
3. Did anyone close to you give birth? My brother and sister-in-law. Ry-Gonn and Julie. The Frethemases
4. Did anyone close to you die? Not that I'm aware.
5. What countries did you visit? Mexico. A really filthy city in Mexico. Oh, and Catalina island.
6. What would you like to have in 2009 that you lacked in 2008? Piece of mind. A reduced waist size.
7. What date(s) from 2008 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? The cruise in March. Building my garden in May. Hosting a bride/groom BBQ for 50 people, then acting out "Ghostbusters" for two littlle kid guests. Tallen's birthday the next day and the hurricane that nearly stopped it. July 4th cruise. Taylor's Falls for hiking and kibbutzing. My niece's berf on August 14th. Fringe festival. Working a anime convention. Dinner/game nights. When the stock market started going kerflooey. November 4th. Thanksgiving at my house. The coldest December in ages. Myyyyy birthday! (Well, that last one isn't etched so much as it's like a sidewalk chalk drawing that got in the way of a sprinkler.
8. What was your biggest achievement of the year? ASM'ing an awesome show. My GARDEN! Finishing the front porch. Hosting the Bean's BBQ. Cooking many delicious meals. Learning how to cut food appropriately with good knives and getting an Epicurious cutting board. Going to the gym regularly. Being in a fairly well attended and received Fringe show. Seeing my girlfriend perform in her shows at least twice each.
9. What was your biggest failure? Not traveling enough. My car. Not squirreling away cash to help alleviate my personal debt. Not seeing a lot of movies on the big screen. Not getting to karate more. Not spending enough time with buddies
10. Did you suffer any illness or injury? I had a couple of colds, some really sore post-gym visits, and my most recent bout of, f#ck, I don't know. Consumption? "I gots the black spot on mah lung, pa."
11. What was the best thing you bought? A cruise for me and mah beeb. A good cutting board..
12. Whose behavior merited celebration? What does this even mean, Corky?
13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed? Judge not (publically, on your blog), lest ye be judged (publically, on a blog). And it's market volatility, I know, but f#ck all it sucked when folks around my office started getting let go.
14. Where did most of your money go? Bills, Bills, Mortgage, Bills, Cruise
15. What did you get really, really, really excited about? The Cruise. Mah berfday. Mah niece. "The Dark Knight" and "Iron Man". The "Watchmen" trailer. Sneaking Mo's presents into the Theater Garage without her knowledge.
16. What songs will always remind you of 2008? “White Winter Hymnal” –Fleet Foxes, "Polite Dance Song"- The Bird and the Bee, "Grapevine Fires"- Death Cab for Cutie, "Fidelity"- Regina Spektor.
17. Compared to this time last year, are you happier or sadder? I’m probably about even.
18. What do you wish you’d done more of? Travel. Save dough. Get cast in shows
19. What do you wish you’d done less of? $Worry about$. Frassed
20. How did you spend Christmas? It was epic and exhausting. (See previous posts) And apparently I have the constitution of a bull if I went from champagne, to a martini, to a glass of wine, to Scotch, to however many cocktails the Market gave up, a kamikaze, and more Scotch.
21. Did you fall in love in 2008? I stayed in love with my girlfriend, and really knew that when I tell my family and friends that I love them that I mean it with all my heart.
22. How many one-night stands? I have one nightstand.
23. What was your favorite TV program? "Heroes". Get better, Heroes, or I kick you in the nards.
24. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year? Not really. Sometimes when I see the "legacy" W is leaving behind it raises my ire.
25. What was the best book you read? I loved "American Gods", "It's Superman!", and "Garlic and Sapphires"
26. What was your greatest musical discovery? Fleet Foxes; The Bird and the Bee, Death Cab for Cutie, Dan Wilson's latest, Regina Spektor, and Blitzen Trapper
27. What did you want to get? Growth, Peace, Joy, a flat screen TV
28. What was your favorite film of this year? "The Dark Knight". Yeah, Yeah. "Don't break your leg jumping on the bandwagon there, P!!!"
29. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you? I was celebrating the 13th anniversary of my 21st birthday and avoiding alcohol poisoning/Pulling a Jimi Hendrix.
30. What one thing made your year immeasurably more satisfying? Moda. Becoming an uncle/Godmother.
31. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2008? Clothes are overrated. Seriously? I'm lucky if my socks match. I am fashion clutter.
32. What kept you sane? Mo, Folks, Booze, Books, teh Interwebs, .
33. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? Obama. Tina Fey.
34. What political issue stirred you the most? The election. Proposition 8. And more recently, the hubub on the Gaza Strip.
35. Who did you miss? Ryan, Adam, and Steve respectively
36. Who was the best new person you met? I thought Larry Roupe was pretty awesome
37. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2008? Do not watch soft core pr0n when you think your roommate will be out all night. You will be uncomfortable as he peeks in every so often to see what scene you are on.
Thursday, January 01, 2009
Anyone else think that it's kinda jank?
To have to go into work on a Friday, the day after a National holiday off? That's just..."week-us interruptus" and we have to eat it.
Shows what I know. I've already had to take two unscheduled days of personal time off due to sickness. (Which, in this economy fills me with a certain amount of dread coming back)
Sighs. And what do I do? Stay up until close to 4am video taping an impromptu ABBA inspired dance party in the hopes that one of the guests will make as much of an ass of themselves as I did on my birthday. (They did. To be sure, being sick ensures that I won't be drinking fine pink champag-na to the wee hours and impeding the crap outta my recovery. And I did get some bueno footage, boy howdy)
No. Now I'm just tired. And will probably turn in at a reasonable hour after having some chamomile tea with lemon and honey. Think very hard about 2008 and what I can do better. Update my resume' some more. And try to complete "A Prayer for Owen Meany". A book that I very much should have probably read when I was a sophomore or junior in high school. (But the impact probably may not have resonated)
Happy new years, all. 2008 was a challenge, so let's all give thanks if we're still here and buckle down for a more optimistic 2009.
ps- "The Dark Knight" is 25 x's of cool the second time through. And probably will be the 5-10th time through.
Shows what I know. I've already had to take two unscheduled days of personal time off due to sickness. (Which, in this economy fills me with a certain amount of dread coming back)
Sighs. And what do I do? Stay up until close to 4am video taping an impromptu ABBA inspired dance party in the hopes that one of the guests will make as much of an ass of themselves as I did on my birthday. (They did. To be sure, being sick ensures that I won't be drinking fine pink champag-na to the wee hours and impeding the crap outta my recovery. And I did get some bueno footage, boy howdy)
No. Now I'm just tired. And will probably turn in at a reasonable hour after having some chamomile tea with lemon and honey. Think very hard about 2008 and what I can do better. Update my resume' some more. And try to complete "A Prayer for Owen Meany". A book that I very much should have probably read when I was a sophomore or junior in high school. (But the impact probably may not have resonated)
Happy new years, all. 2008 was a challenge, so let's all give thanks if we're still here and buckle down for a more optimistic 2009.
ps- "The Dark Knight" is 25 x's of cool the second time through. And probably will be the 5-10th time through.
Monday, December 29, 2008
I blame the Laphroaig...
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Laphroaig_Single_Malt
"You danced, and now you have to pay the piper..."
I've always liked that quote. My old co-worker when I was at the Bullseye said that to me when I stumbled into work one Saturday after partying the night before with the Porkchops. (This would also be the day I snuck up to the 11th executive floor, snuck into an empty office, and fell asleep under a conference table for an hour. Whoops)
Sick. Sick as a dog. Woke myself up this morning super early in a wracking, dry-coughing fit. I felt my back get all funky and now it's awful today. Runny nose. Blurry vision. Not fun. I hate coughs that don't produce. Gross, I know. But it's giving me a sore throat. Ow.
X-Mas was great. I wish I had time to respond to everyone that sent love and well wishes. It was really awesome to see my frassbook page filled with all that goodness. The day of X-Mas is probably what started me on this road to ruin...
So I hopped over to Broiler's who was also awake waaaay early and was able to get RSVP's gift. (7am) Then home to a frassy 'Bean who was chatty. Finally succumbing to exhaustion, I claw my way into bed only to have a panicky mom call 10 minutes later to have me hustle over and help clean. I go over, caffeine up, and get to work. The rest of the fam damily shows (RSVP and brood) we have a great day of gifts, food, love, etc. Finally it's 3:30 and I'm in need of boogying so I can hook up w/Moda, pre-hotel. I am in desperate need of a nap.
We exchange gifts while swilling fine pink champers and I beg for 20 minutes. It's for naught, and we head off to BANK for dinner. Another cocktail consumed w/dinner, we head back to the hotel. Now, we're both pooped. The nap again is for naught, since cell phones start going off at regular intervals inquiring as to our status. Folks show up, and BW-J pops in with his annual Scotch gift. (Instead of the usual McAllens, it's the above mentioned whiskey) So, we get into that filthy, filthy stuff and commence "cheers" etc.
Now it's off to the Market.
Now I don't pay for a single drink. Of which, I believe, I had several. We danced. We sang. I shrieked myself hoarse. I. Iiiiii was that guy. You know him. A little drunk. A little louder than necessary. And doing a shuffling little jig when Elvis is sung.
Back to the hotel. Where I proceed to nurse another filth and water. And try and get folks out of their clothing. And lifting up my shirt repeatedly as an example. It was 4am before we got everyone out of there. Then finally pass the frack out. And drag our carcasses out at noon so we could meet RSVP for brunch at Keys. At this point, the night before manifested itself into a hum-dinger of a headache. We napped for 3 hours before calling it quits, watching "WALL-E" and going to bed.
Caturday night was game night at Panda-Bot's where it was mulled wine and wine-wine. Home at 1:30.
I'm just. Yeah. I think I'm getting to old for this s#it.
Oof.
"You danced, and now you have to pay the piper..."
I've always liked that quote. My old co-worker when I was at the Bullseye said that to me when I stumbled into work one Saturday after partying the night before with the Porkchops. (This would also be the day I snuck up to the 11th executive floor, snuck into an empty office, and fell asleep under a conference table for an hour. Whoops)
Sick. Sick as a dog. Woke myself up this morning super early in a wracking, dry-coughing fit. I felt my back get all funky and now it's awful today. Runny nose. Blurry vision. Not fun. I hate coughs that don't produce. Gross, I know. But it's giving me a sore throat. Ow.
X-Mas was great. I wish I had time to respond to everyone that sent love and well wishes. It was really awesome to see my frassbook page filled with all that goodness. The day of X-Mas is probably what started me on this road to ruin...
So I hopped over to Broiler's who was also awake waaaay early and was able to get RSVP's gift. (7am) Then home to a frassy 'Bean who was chatty. Finally succumbing to exhaustion, I claw my way into bed only to have a panicky mom call 10 minutes later to have me hustle over and help clean. I go over, caffeine up, and get to work. The rest of the fam damily shows (RSVP and brood) we have a great day of gifts, food, love, etc. Finally it's 3:30 and I'm in need of boogying so I can hook up w/Moda, pre-hotel. I am in desperate need of a nap.
We exchange gifts while swilling fine pink champers and I beg for 20 minutes. It's for naught, and we head off to BANK for dinner. Another cocktail consumed w/dinner, we head back to the hotel. Now, we're both pooped. The nap again is for naught, since cell phones start going off at regular intervals inquiring as to our status. Folks show up, and BW-J pops in with his annual Scotch gift. (Instead of the usual McAllens, it's the above mentioned whiskey) So, we get into that filthy, filthy stuff and commence "cheers" etc.
Now it's off to the Market.
Now I don't pay for a single drink. Of which, I believe, I had several. We danced. We sang. I shrieked myself hoarse. I. Iiiiii was that guy. You know him. A little drunk. A little louder than necessary. And doing a shuffling little jig when Elvis is sung.
Back to the hotel. Where I proceed to nurse another filth and water. And try and get folks out of their clothing. And lifting up my shirt repeatedly as an example. It was 4am before we got everyone out of there. Then finally pass the frack out. And drag our carcasses out at noon so we could meet RSVP for brunch at Keys. At this point, the night before manifested itself into a hum-dinger of a headache. We napped for 3 hours before calling it quits, watching "WALL-E" and going to bed.
Caturday night was game night at Panda-Bot's where it was mulled wine and wine-wine. Home at 1:30.
I'm just. Yeah. I think I'm getting to old for this s#it.
Oof.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Oh yeah
I made it. That's right.
Except the only reason I was up at that ungodly hour wasn't due to (A) Nostalgia (I'm a little past that. I remember doing this when I was an early teen out of some sense of ritual or nostalgia. I'd even play happy birthday on my cheap Casio or something) Orrrrr (B) Actual childbirth. Something my poor mother had to endure all these years ago.
Nope. I had to go to the bathroom. Then needed to check the laundry tub and the floor was cold. And realized I hadn't re-set the coffee maker alarm so my house smells of organic breakfast blend.
And my internal (infernal) alarm sez "WORK TIME, BABY P!!! IT'S TIME TO MAKE THE DONUTS!!!"
Grrrr...First post as a 34 (whoops) year old and here I go making an awful Dunkin Donuts reference.
Happy Holidays, Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy (late...late) Diwali, Kwanzaa...Festiv...(F#ck it. It's made up. "Happy Porkledeedorkle day, all!") Be well, safe, and if you are an orphan in the Twin Cities metro I imagine I'll see you out and about tonight at one of the...3 or 4 open bars.
Your friendly neighborhood X-mas babe
Heavy emphasis on the babe. It's my birthday. The economy sucks. Thick and heavy compliments are free.
Except the only reason I was up at that ungodly hour wasn't due to (A) Nostalgia (I'm a little past that. I remember doing this when I was an early teen out of some sense of ritual or nostalgia. I'd even play happy birthday on my cheap Casio or something) Orrrrr (B) Actual childbirth. Something my poor mother had to endure all these years ago.
Nope. I had to go to the bathroom. Then needed to check the laundry tub and the floor was cold. And realized I hadn't re-set the coffee maker alarm so my house smells of organic breakfast blend.
And my internal (infernal) alarm sez "WORK TIME, BABY P!!! IT'S TIME TO MAKE THE DONUTS!!!"
Grrrr...First post as a 34 (whoops) year old and here I go making an awful Dunkin Donuts reference.
Happy Holidays, Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy (late...late) Diwali, Kwanzaa...Festiv...(F#ck it. It's made up. "Happy Porkledeedorkle day, all!") Be well, safe, and if you are an orphan in the Twin Cities metro I imagine I'll see you out and about tonight at one of the...3 or 4 open bars.
Your friendly neighborhood X-mas babe
Heavy emphasis on the babe. It's my birthday. The economy sucks. Thick and heavy compliments are free.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Another fine year you've gotten us into...
I'm home. In the TV room. 2 rolls of the roomies wrapping paper in front of me and a few assorted bibs and bobs strewn about. And celebrating the evening before my (harumphyMcharumpherson) birthday.
I ran out into the world tonight to grab something as a favor to my mom which wasn't as heinous as I imagined it could have been if you were to believe the news. (In and out of stores within scant minutes) And now I watch as the twilight hours of the last year celebrating my b'day tick off.
I figured since I was born on X-Mas, this last magic birthday meant I would be dragged off by Roman Centurions around Easter to be asked a bevvie of questions regarding my self-proclaimed awesomeness. It was not to be, however, and it just meant a very minor case of buyers remorse and fond memories of a tax-rebate funded cruise with my beeb. Could have been worth, savior-wanters.
So this year, I have asked family to avoid gifting me in lieu of either donations to charity, gifts for my growing niece and nephew, well wishes, and a general hope that we as a society/country can start to do the slow crawl to more prosperous times. This is dubious since my mom was asking for an X-Mas list up to the 22nd. Sigh...
I'll try, again, to rise for my "I was born at 5:54 am" post saying I was there I ushered in a new year for myself.
Instead, I'll probably be snoozing off the night with Santa overhead.
Happy Holidays, Frassers. Be safe, well, and loved this upcoming New Year.
I hate wrapping gifts. My cuts look like a 2nd grader attempting to do it with their non-dominant hand and I could probably stand to single-handedly finance the gift-bag industry.
I ran out into the world tonight to grab something as a favor to my mom which wasn't as heinous as I imagined it could have been if you were to believe the news. (In and out of stores within scant minutes) And now I watch as the twilight hours of the last year celebrating my b'day tick off.
I figured since I was born on X-Mas, this last magic birthday meant I would be dragged off by Roman Centurions around Easter to be asked a bevvie of questions regarding my self-proclaimed awesomeness. It was not to be, however, and it just meant a very minor case of buyers remorse and fond memories of a tax-rebate funded cruise with my beeb. Could have been worth, savior-wanters.
So this year, I have asked family to avoid gifting me in lieu of either donations to charity, gifts for my growing niece and nephew, well wishes, and a general hope that we as a society/country can start to do the slow crawl to more prosperous times. This is dubious since my mom was asking for an X-Mas list up to the 22nd. Sigh...
I'll try, again, to rise for my "I was born at 5:54 am" post saying I was there I ushered in a new year for myself.
Instead, I'll probably be snoozing off the night with Santa overhead.
Happy Holidays, Frassers. Be safe, well, and loved this upcoming New Year.
I hate wrapping gifts. My cuts look like a 2nd grader attempting to do it with their non-dominant hand and I could probably stand to single-handedly finance the gift-bag industry.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Le whew
Well. The dreaded big team meeting was a bit of a let down. It boiled down to "We don't know anything either. Please stop spreading rumors if you can. We aren't going anywhere any time soon".
So whew, and huh? We ended up talking about the weather. How very...Minnesotan...of us.
I'm growing so violently sick of the terms "Market volatility" and "Unstable Financial Conditions" that I'm pretty sure that I'm getting an ulcer. And poor NMMC. Laid off 80 nurses? Right. Before. Christmas? (My co-worker's wife was one of them) Ugh. Just. Ugh. Thanks, hospital of my birth.
Okay. Done with that.
Last night the SO and I attempted to watch a racy flick from her queue. Seemed like a pretty good idea at the time. Until the roommate came home about 5-10 minutes into it. It was pretty uncanny how often he found an opportunity to bounce upstairs with some form of current events or another. And to see which scene we were on. Awwwwwkward. (It was awful, btw. If you want to watch "Lie with Her", don't. Get pR0n instead. It was pretentious smut. The worst kind.)
Below zero temperatures belong in mid-February and need to last 3-4 days. Nothing "Wonderful" about this "Wonderland". It's a wonder I don't pack it in and head South. Frass...
ps: Yes, Moll. Anything by Dan Folgerburp is crap, IMNSHO. If James Brown is the "Godfather of Soul"? then he is...like...the "Great Uncle of Emo-Rock".
So whew, and huh? We ended up talking about the weather. How very...Minnesotan...of us.
I'm growing so violently sick of the terms "Market volatility" and "Unstable Financial Conditions" that I'm pretty sure that I'm getting an ulcer. And poor NMMC. Laid off 80 nurses? Right. Before. Christmas? (My co-worker's wife was one of them) Ugh. Just. Ugh. Thanks, hospital of my birth.
Okay. Done with that.
Last night the SO and I attempted to watch a racy flick from her queue. Seemed like a pretty good idea at the time. Until the roommate came home about 5-10 minutes into it. It was pretty uncanny how often he found an opportunity to bounce upstairs with some form of current events or another. And to see which scene we were on. Awwwwwkward. (It was awful, btw. If you want to watch "Lie with Her", don't. Get pR0n instead. It was pretentious smut. The worst kind.)
Below zero temperatures belong in mid-February and need to last 3-4 days. Nothing "Wonderful" about this "Wonderland". It's a wonder I don't pack it in and head South. Frass...
ps: Yes, Moll. Anything by Dan Folgerburp is crap, IMNSHO. If James Brown is the "Godfather of Soul"? then he is...like...the "Great Uncle of Emo-Rock".
Thursday, December 18, 2008
What I want, need...this Christmas
Need/Want-ish:
Out of debt (Never happen this X-mas)
AAA membership. Mine lapsed this year, and it is the SINGLE greatest investment an older car owner can have. I was towed 4 x's in 2007.
Help staining/attaching the molding
Either a new laundry tub, or to replace the U joint that's clogged and won't get unclogged.
Gift Card to take Moda out on a proper date to a proper place. Or subsequent cash.
DVD- "Iron Man", "The Dark Knight", "The Incredible Hulk", "Boogie Nights", or flicks I've lent out and subsequently lost. (Pick one)
Dumb liquor- Cooking stuff, mostly. But Bailey's, Whiskey, Brandy, etc. Would be nice. I cook at home a lot, now.
Cooking classes to share
Dance lessons (Like, I don't know, salsa or something. "Picosa" has them for free, but dinner there seems smarter
Dry cleaning done. I have many shirts that could use it.
Big boy underpants. Couple of packs. I'm a large Marge these days.
FRIVILOUS, kinda necessary, but can't afford right now-
New bathroom. Tile. Tub. Toilet. Sink. I hate my bathroom.
New garage. You know? One that didn't seem "practical" in 1884?
New car. Hell, New USED car. At least older than the "oughts".
Ridiculous, can live without, but want. Just want.-
Trip to Paris with a Ryan Air puddle jump to Rome. I have a huge history jones that will not be denied. And wikipedia kills me with information.
Expando cable. This is more for my roommate than I. He watches TV (when he's home) like it is his job. And I know that he sneaks off to his cousins to watch IFC. Know it.
Big frassy HD TV. 40 inches or more. I love watching movies more than air. And with the HD craze coming, I wouldn't mind seeing the "Dark Knight" Chinese building jump with all the details revealed intimately.
Out of debt (Never happen this X-mas)
AAA membership. Mine lapsed this year, and it is the SINGLE greatest investment an older car owner can have. I was towed 4 x's in 2007.
Help staining/attaching the molding
Either a new laundry tub, or to replace the U joint that's clogged and won't get unclogged.
Gift Card to take Moda out on a proper date to a proper place. Or subsequent cash.
DVD- "Iron Man", "The Dark Knight", "The Incredible Hulk", "Boogie Nights", or flicks I've lent out and subsequently lost. (Pick one)
Dumb liquor- Cooking stuff, mostly. But Bailey's, Whiskey, Brandy, etc. Would be nice. I cook at home a lot, now.
Cooking classes to share
Dance lessons (Like, I don't know, salsa or something. "Picosa" has them for free, but dinner there seems smarter
Dry cleaning done. I have many shirts that could use it.
Big boy underpants. Couple of packs. I'm a large Marge these days.
FRIVILOUS, kinda necessary, but can't afford right now-
New bathroom. Tile. Tub. Toilet. Sink. I hate my bathroom.
New garage. You know? One that didn't seem "practical" in 1884?
New car. Hell, New USED car. At least older than the "oughts".
Ridiculous, can live without, but want. Just want.-
Trip to Paris with a Ryan Air puddle jump to Rome. I have a huge history jones that will not be denied. And wikipedia kills me with information.
Expando cable. This is more for my roommate than I. He watches TV (when he's home) like it is his job. And I know that he sneaks off to his cousins to watch IFC. Know it.
Big frassy HD TV. 40 inches or more. I love watching movies more than air. And with the HD craze coming, I wouldn't mind seeing the "Dark Knight" Chinese building jump with all the details revealed intimately.
One, just one problem with Batman
I love those two recent Bat-mama movies. I do. I re-watched "Begins" and can't wait to own "TDK". And as I talked to a co-worker about them, he had this to say:
"I hate how B-Man talks. It's just, stupid"
I responded, of course, with the wonderful line "It's not who I ammmmmm..." with the postured over-inflection that we found in "BB". And he's right. And then I thought, hm. He's got it all wrong. He's frassin' about stealth and secretiveness when he's doing his vigilante gig in what amounts to a fricking mini...tank. Not easy to tool into Gotham and park in the "90 minutes or fewer" street. What. Will you throw a cover over it?
Here's a better idea buddy. Since you are mega-rich and fight the muggers hand to hand anyway. (And, you know. While the tank is cool. And makes an eventually SPOILER cooler motorcycle) it is faaaaar from practical. Think of the environment.
Try a plug in. Hybrid. Or better still, stop at the local dealer (GO LOCAL) and grab a 97 Geo Metro. GREAT gas mileage. And? No one will give two s#its about a dude in a bat costume hanging out and listening to MPR for the latest.
I'm just sayin...
"I hate how B-Man talks. It's just, stupid"
I responded, of course, with the wonderful line "It's not who I ammmmmm..." with the postured over-inflection that we found in "BB". And he's right. And then I thought, hm. He's got it all wrong. He's frassin' about stealth and secretiveness when he's doing his vigilante gig in what amounts to a fricking mini...tank. Not easy to tool into Gotham and park in the "90 minutes or fewer" street. What. Will you throw a cover over it?
Here's a better idea buddy. Since you are mega-rich and fight the muggers hand to hand anyway. (And, you know. While the tank is cool. And makes an eventually SPOILER cooler motorcycle) it is faaaaar from practical. Think of the environment.
Try a plug in. Hybrid. Or better still, stop at the local dealer (GO LOCAL) and grab a 97 Geo Metro. GREAT gas mileage. And? No one will give two s#its about a dude in a bat costume hanging out and listening to MPR for the latest.
I'm just sayin...
It is not. A con-sarn...GROCERY STORE!!!
I approach the local green of Wal when the parking lot is full, only because that means a line. Now, a line at the super-chain grocery store is part and parcel of shopping. You sort of know the risks. But at a drug store, you figure there are folks in the back by the pharmacists to buy said drugs. And a few to pick up...oh, I don't know. A card.
So when you wait behind someone at the Green, or CVS, or whereever...with a shopping cart...that is FULL of crap (Milk, chips, nuts, beef jerky, mittens, and whatever the newest cologne Burger King sells)
Well. I get ticked. I have Carmex. A stick of gum. And a diet Coke. Maybe shaving cream. And the poor cashier is NOT having it.
This has happened way too much lately. For that much, GO to the chain mega gro-gro stores. Or the wholesalers. With the amount of crap you buy, you'll save yourself a fortune.
Grumble Grumble Frass...
So when you wait behind someone at the Green, or CVS, or whereever...with a shopping cart...that is FULL of crap (Milk, chips, nuts, beef jerky, mittens, and whatever the newest cologne Burger King sells)
Well. I get ticked. I have Carmex. A stick of gum. And a diet Coke. Maybe shaving cream. And the poor cashier is NOT having it.
This has happened way too much lately. For that much, GO to the chain mega gro-gro stores. Or the wholesalers. With the amount of crap you buy, you'll save yourself a fortune.
Grumble Grumble Frass...
Dear Local Gym...
I am glad, that you got my SO into your free fitness classes.
As a practitioner who's family has been involved in the arts which are martial for many a year, I actually thinks that it is cool that "cardio-kick" has enamored her of late.
However, when I roll over in the middle of the night with a bout of insomnia, go to smooch her cheek, and she cold cocks me with a hook at 3:30 in the morning on my jaw...Well...
I beg of you to not get her too warrior-ed up.
With much gratitude,
Me
As a practitioner who's family has been involved in the arts which are martial for many a year, I actually thinks that it is cool that "cardio-kick" has enamored her of late.
However, when I roll over in the middle of the night with a bout of insomnia, go to smooch her cheek, and she cold cocks me with a hook at 3:30 in the morning on my jaw...Well...
I beg of you to not get her too warrior-ed up.
With much gratitude,
Me
Monday, December 15, 2008
I think...we can do...away...with X-Mas
Let's start today, friends. KOOL 108 aside, I think that there are a lot. A LOT of X-Mas songs that need to have found their way to the Dead Pool. Seriously. And not to knock at secular tunes that have been around for a minute. I mean really. Really. Let's look at songs "created" for the season to fill playlists and make ears bleed starting post-Thanksgiving up to and after December 25th. F#ck. After Hallowe'en, if you're being realistic.
I'll start:
"It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year"- No it isn't. F#ck you. Today? It's cold. Painfully so. And the most wonderful day, for some of us, was the day we drank too much wine and watched TV on November 4th. "There'll be much mistletoe-ing" isn't even a sentence. It's douchey. And stop trying to created a beloved X-Mas song by being so damn commercial.
"Santa Claus is Coming to Town" (More specifically, by Frankie)- I love the guy. I do. He is unabashed in his Bacchanalian debauchery. His buddies. His crooning. But I don't feel like getting crooned to by a guy who is the face of debauch about "Naughty and Nice" when you know sure as f#ck he is on a 11 day bender at the Flamingo with 16 different show girls from the 60's version of "Follies Bergere". Moving on.
"Frosty the Snowman"- We hate snow. Even snow days suck. And even we, we hardy MN'ans get one. We get enough precipitation in October to cause the state of NC to declare a national emergency (true) that we don't need to know about anthropomorphic snow-douches in foppish top hats gaily striding about with their propaganda that global warming doesn't exist. And that's all you are, Mr. Frosty. Propaganda. And the name of a milkshake at Wendy's.
"Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer"- Who. Gives. A. S#it... It's about the fat one, let's be real. If we cared about the workhorses, we should have ALL known the name of the Budweiser Clydesdales by now. Oh, you don't? EPIC FAIL! "You know Stoli, and Patron, and Mount Gay, and Got Blitzed..."
"Simply, Having, A wonderful..."Oh frack I can't finish. - Sir Paul? This Moog synth atrocity brings me so far back to evil that I want to punch the dash board. Boo. Boo, Boo, Boo, Boo. I cry. I thought you'd leave repetitive douchey tunes to George. ("I've got my mind set. On...Douche")
Any. Every. Country version of a X-mas song made. Sorry. They tend to sound alcoholic even if it is about the three Wise men. Same for pop stars doing covers. I hate to say it, but I like the warbly scratchy versions of the standards.
Grrrrrr.
Play more BNL and Sarah. "Bring a Torch". The Hallelujah Chorus. I'm no Scrooge, but crap all. It's my birthday. Easy present. Let's start to dissect the remnants.
I'll start:
"It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year"- No it isn't. F#ck you. Today? It's cold. Painfully so. And the most wonderful day, for some of us, was the day we drank too much wine and watched TV on November 4th. "There'll be much mistletoe-ing" isn't even a sentence. It's douchey. And stop trying to created a beloved X-Mas song by being so damn commercial.
"Santa Claus is Coming to Town" (More specifically, by Frankie)- I love the guy. I do. He is unabashed in his Bacchanalian debauchery. His buddies. His crooning. But I don't feel like getting crooned to by a guy who is the face of debauch about "Naughty and Nice" when you know sure as f#ck he is on a 11 day bender at the Flamingo with 16 different show girls from the 60's version of "Follies Bergere". Moving on.
"Frosty the Snowman"- We hate snow. Even snow days suck. And even we, we hardy MN'ans get one. We get enough precipitation in October to cause the state of NC to declare a national emergency (true) that we don't need to know about anthropomorphic snow-douches in foppish top hats gaily striding about with their propaganda that global warming doesn't exist. And that's all you are, Mr. Frosty. Propaganda. And the name of a milkshake at Wendy's.
"Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer"- Who. Gives. A. S#it... It's about the fat one, let's be real. If we cared about the workhorses, we should have ALL known the name of the Budweiser Clydesdales by now. Oh, you don't? EPIC FAIL! "You know Stoli, and Patron, and Mount Gay, and Got Blitzed..."
"Simply, Having, A wonderful..."Oh frack I can't finish. - Sir Paul? This Moog synth atrocity brings me so far back to evil that I want to punch the dash board. Boo. Boo, Boo, Boo, Boo. I cry. I thought you'd leave repetitive douchey tunes to George. ("I've got my mind set. On...Douche")
Any. Every. Country version of a X-mas song made. Sorry. They tend to sound alcoholic even if it is about the three Wise men. Same for pop stars doing covers. I hate to say it, but I like the warbly scratchy versions of the standards.
Grrrrrr.
Play more BNL and Sarah. "Bring a Torch". The Hallelujah Chorus. I'm no Scrooge, but crap all. It's my birthday. Easy present. Let's start to dissect the remnants.
I reserve the right...
To complain. This...weather? Hm, yes. Is bananas. Yeah, I live in an older house. Yeah, I take the prerequisite measures to stop draftiness. (Plastic on the windows, weather stripping, etc.) But I feel the cold like it was my job. Just looking outside? Makes me cold.
Couple that with the fact that my heater AND rear defrost in my my car makes me frassy...well I'm trolling jobs in the South. No joke. There is no WAY that in 10 years it has fallen below zero in December. What happened to this all happening in February? Sucktastic. Dying.
In other news, the loaner they gave me is Piiiiimptastic. An 88 Old's with a red interior that makes you feel like you're in the waiting room of a house of ill repute. I lurve it.
Couple that with the fact that my heater AND rear defrost in my my car makes me frassy...well I'm trolling jobs in the South. No joke. There is no WAY that in 10 years it has fallen below zero in December. What happened to this all happening in February? Sucktastic. Dying.
In other news, the loaner they gave me is Piiiiimptastic. An 88 Old's with a red interior that makes you feel like you're in the waiting room of a house of ill repute. I lurve it.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Saturday Close Captioning reveals Cartoon Deification
Sooooooo....
I'm at the gym.
Trying to get my workout out of the way to make way for...I don't know. Saturday stuff.
I don't own an IPOD or Shuffle or Shuffle off to Buffalo pod. I read the stupid Close Captioning. Deal.
Since we're both up at the crack of (10) and she's off cardio-kicking imaginary opponents and saying "Woo"! with the rest of the class.
I've finished my lifty mc-liftersons and have retired to the treadmill. Now, to para-phrase Mr. Leary I kinda do feel like a hamster in a wheel on the treadmill. I haven't owned a walkman (LUDDITE ALERT!) in ages. The last thing I had resembling sound producing head-gear was this wireless headset that looked like you were answering phones in the 50's and was the size of Princess Leia's hair in "Star Wars". Not fun. And it gave me a headache AND it'd bump channels every few blocks.
So I run silent. Adrift in my imagination. A bad place to be. Except I've discovered a few things about my club...
If I book it out of work, when I do. And if traffic is conducive- I can make it to stretch out, work my tummy, and watch "Jeopardy" on the treadmill villa Close Captioning. A fine pursuit, to be sure. You don't need sound. You watch the questions pop up, mutter the answer to yourself and either (A) curse inwardly if you get it wrong...stupid MENSA teen's...or (B) Try and time your prrt's in the vain hope that there is no one on the treadmill behind you.
What?
So on a Saturday A.M. I figure 'toons are all I need to let the world go and watch mindless 2-D animation whilst I program my routine for the next 3.2 miles. I've timed it PERFECTLY with NBC's newest venture: 3-2-1 PENGUIN!!! (It's like "3-2-1 Contact", right? Show's y'all my frame of reference)
The NEXT thing I know, is they're quoting the bible ("Remember what the good book says!") and the normal non-anthropomorphic character's are spouting ("Get ready for church, dear" and "Did you want to say our prayer's together?")
What?
I'm dubious I would've caught it if I hadn't been reading the text via close captioning. I thought "Where is the exploding coyote being pushed off the cliff by that rascally road-runner?" The doofy lisping hunter with the wily wabbit? Spider-man, and his AMAZING friends" Which is to say I have some amazing friends too, and can empathize with the wall-crawler.)
Then V-Tales came on. And besides being the bastard step-child of El Muppet-ino (Seriously. How MANY drugs must one be on to have vegetables give parables, wear clothes, and perform normal human tasks sans hands. And really, turn on the CC option on your TV and read the intro-song. It's drugs, people. People using drugs and eating vegan. Check it out.)
Although I felt warmly toward the asparagus with the yellow cardigan. I thought to myself: I wonder if his pee smells funny, or if the novelty is lost. Ponder, folks.
Anyway, I miss my blow'em up cartoons in lieu of this stupid Bob Ross inspired "happy" crappy. I don't wanna be a grumpy old man, but a world with grape soda caving in the walls ( "3-2-1 Penguins" distinguishing plot point) is nothing compared to "Thundarr", "Plastic Man", Super Friends", "Godzilla and Gadzookey" or cripes...even "Gummi Bears".
Ish.
I'm at the gym.
Trying to get my workout out of the way to make way for...I don't know. Saturday stuff.
I don't own an IPOD or Shuffle or Shuffle off to Buffalo pod. I read the stupid Close Captioning. Deal.
Since we're both up at the crack of (10) and she's off cardio-kicking imaginary opponents and saying "Woo"! with the rest of the class.
I've finished my lifty mc-liftersons and have retired to the treadmill. Now, to para-phrase Mr. Leary I kinda do feel like a hamster in a wheel on the treadmill. I haven't owned a walkman (LUDDITE ALERT!) in ages. The last thing I had resembling sound producing head-gear was this wireless headset that looked like you were answering phones in the 50's and was the size of Princess Leia's hair in "Star Wars". Not fun. And it gave me a headache AND it'd bump channels every few blocks.
So I run silent. Adrift in my imagination. A bad place to be. Except I've discovered a few things about my club...
If I book it out of work, when I do. And if traffic is conducive- I can make it to stretch out, work my tummy, and watch "Jeopardy" on the treadmill villa Close Captioning. A fine pursuit, to be sure. You don't need sound. You watch the questions pop up, mutter the answer to yourself and either (A) curse inwardly if you get it wrong...stupid MENSA teen's...or (B) Try and time your prrt's in the vain hope that there is no one on the treadmill behind you.
What?
So on a Saturday A.M. I figure 'toons are all I need to let the world go and watch mindless 2-D animation whilst I program my routine for the next 3.2 miles. I've timed it PERFECTLY with NBC's newest venture: 3-2-1 PENGUIN!!! (It's like "3-2-1 Contact", right? Show's y'all my frame of reference)
The NEXT thing I know, is they're quoting the bible ("Remember what the good book says!") and the normal non-anthropomorphic character's are spouting ("Get ready for church, dear" and "Did you want to say our prayer's together?")
What?
I'm dubious I would've caught it if I hadn't been reading the text via close captioning. I thought "Where is the exploding coyote being pushed off the cliff by that rascally road-runner?" The doofy lisping hunter with the wily wabbit? Spider-man, and his AMAZING friends" Which is to say I have some amazing friends too, and can empathize with the wall-crawler.)
Then V-Tales came on. And besides being the bastard step-child of El Muppet-ino (Seriously. How MANY drugs must one be on to have vegetables give parables, wear clothes, and perform normal human tasks sans hands. And really, turn on the CC option on your TV and read the intro-song. It's drugs, people. People using drugs and eating vegan. Check it out.)
Although I felt warmly toward the asparagus with the yellow cardigan. I thought to myself: I wonder if his pee smells funny, or if the novelty is lost. Ponder, folks.
Anyway, I miss my blow'em up cartoons in lieu of this stupid Bob Ross inspired "happy" crappy. I don't wanna be a grumpy old man, but a world with grape soda caving in the walls ( "3-2-1 Penguins" distinguishing plot point) is nothing compared to "Thundarr", "Plastic Man", Super Friends", "Godzilla and Gadzookey" or cripes...even "Gummi Bears".
Ish.
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