Happy New Year! Oh Hai!

Happy New Year from the Happy Christmas Baby. 

I am a terrible, terrible blogger.  April, 2012 was my last post?  After having said "I'm going to blog more in 2012!"  Well...effed up that resolution toute suite, didn't we?   I'm sorry, Frodo...I was delayed.  A lot.
So here's the quick re-crap (I crap you not) of 2012 (Since end-of-year lists should not be compiled until the end of the year!!!  How do you KNOW some unbelievable s#it won't go down before midnight 12/31? !?!.):
From my vantagepoint, the biggest events of 2012 that weren't mired in tragedy would be the Minnesotan's chose to vote "No" twice.  They voted with their hearts and heads in place, and we proved that we can be a loving and progressive state that will not stand on any form of discrimination.  They voted on what was right.  And the world didn't end at midnight after the election.  Funny, that. 

For me personally I think 2012 will be remembered as a year of tremendous artistic fulfillment.  I was thrilled and humbled by having 6 solid months of soul (and occasionally pocket-book) filling theater/commercial work.  I don't think I've had that type of steady-flow work in theater in a long time, and I can't impart how wonderful it felt.  (On the flip side?  I'm available.  Call me.  I'm good.) 
There was also quite a lot of stress, loss, struggle, and a smidgen of hindsighted regret born of not having a better way of planning.  It was tough around tax-time from that thing that was my own damn fault (read your W4's, is all I'm saying about that), and there were a few of those burdens that pop up from time to time (car accidents, what?  Mom's basement flooded huh?  The election year SHOUTING at you for months, as well as the ignorant and beligerant diviseness that was created after so many national tragedies...well that shit stressed me OUT and gave me high blood pressure and heartburn.)

But I did my best to stay positive (which, okay, doesn't volunteer me at a soup kitchen- but kept me from drowning in what I can't control.  Something tough when you're starting a year as a single man living paycheck-to-paycheck.), and I although don't keep my resolutions posted on the fridge by way of a reminder- I remembered that I felt it was important to keep breathing, keep moving forward, and ride the waves.  Which I did. (Thanks, Dad.)  And I was fortunate enough to still have my family there, my old and dear friends, and find some new friends that I will always respect and cherish for having gotten to know this last year.  I've heard some negative comments about 2012, and I respect and understand how it was difficult for many.  But for me?  At least socially?  I felt like I'd won a contest.

Mostly, I'm grateful for 12 months of gainful and benefitted employment.  Friends, Lemme tell you...late 2008 through mid-2011 was kind of a blur of anxiety, hyper-insecurity, loss, belittlement in the workplace, s#itty contract and temp gigs that treated you like a piece of crap (something I so wish were cliche as to being hyperbolic...but it wasn't.), drinking, increasing personal debt, health scares, apathy, and entirely mistreating my personal health and wellness.   It wasn't until (knocking on wood) I was welcomed into my company that I found a place I could breathe.  Even after a start of the year (and subsequent 9 months) of some fear/uncertainty that my position may have been eliminated, I was commended for perservering and eventually rewarded with additional tasks/responsibilities and a voice to aid in the direction of my team.  I have a CEO that sends out emails to the company that advise they should see a show I'm in.  A boss that trusts me from across the country.  Some travel.   Grand flexibility.  Occasional hugs.  And autonomy.  AND close distance to my home.  Which brings me to...

2013 GOOOOOALS!!!-

I'm going to try and write more.  Here.  At home.  Sharpen up a bit.  As a way to keep me at it, I'll be posting my resolution-y looking things on Facebook with the accompanying link back here for any and all interested parties.  There'll be more stuff.  Pictures.  Frassin.  Pet pictures.  Observational kerfluffles.  Karate/running/outdoorsey shenanigans.  Cooking.  Home projects.  Gardening.  And who knows.  Maybe I'll repeat a 2012 goal and get back to the Jim Lupient Water Park...which is AWESOME! 
Happy New Year, friends.  Tune in tomorrow for another edition.  Don't read any old articles, lest you get skeered oft.  (Seriously?  I think at least 57% of past posts revolved around memes.  Or eaters/drinkers guilt.)

ps- The best movie of the year, without argument or question because it's correct:  "The Avengers".

No worries...curry?

Do you know what I love? Chinese take-out. Lots.

While mired in work, race-training, karate, and rehearsals- dinner is usually me scarfing "fake meat" in the form of veggie buffalo nugs or Morningstar (veggie) turkey burgers? When I'm feeling rushed or have the jones, I'm a cheap take-out whore. It's gotten to the point where, I believe I've mentioned, the guys at Great Dragon know me. (They never ask for my name/number, because clearly I'm the only asshole who orders the mock-duck or spicy garlic broccoli. Oh, and once they had to apologize up and down when they were out of Mock Duck. "You're a Chinese restaurant, man. Who ELSE here eats mock duck- and if it's only been me? How much have I eaten?!?! Don't answer that.")

What I hate (#1) is that I'm so addicted to the take-out. I should (reasonably) be able to make something like that at home for Pete's sake...and I used to cook all the time. And #2- while the food is good and marginally healthy? They put s#it in it that I cannot stand. Namely? Baby corn and mushrooms. (Shudders) If they could only just make it with the "good" stuff (namely- everything except the aforementioned demon bits) then I'd probably marry it. So for the last couple of weeks/months I've been thinking about just making my own at home, except with the things in it I like. (And before you frass- no, I can't have them substitute it or have them make it without the demon bits. I'm not that fussy and can pick around it. SHIVERS!!!)

It's been an age since I've actually cooked/crafted something from scratch, and lest I get rusty and forget the difference between a zester and lemon-press- I knew it was important to put on my big-kid apron and get cooking stat.

Something... other than pasta or chili that sits in the tupperware while I demolish it over the work week, or making something on the grill (Which is fairly elementary. Turn on fire. Drop food on fire. Try not to burn). I wanted to create. I wanted to engage in some mad-scientist cooking shenanigans based solely on what ingredients I had around. Fortunately for me, that meant I had a wealth of veggies leftover from the weekend that fit my ideal of what would make for a "good stir-fry". Moreover? I had the spices/sauces to put together what (in my mind) was going to be a kick-ass curry dish.

As some of my more long-term readers will attest, my "experiments" usually (always) fall weeeell short of how I envision they'll turn out in my brain-movie. Hello. I have become my father.

That's not to say it was an epic failure, but I started making some errors the moment I exited the co-op. I'm blaming the fact that I was just done with my workout, was peckish and therefore running on empty- and even though the co-op is small- it was distracting last night.

THE ORIGINAL IDEA:
Curried vegetables with tofu over jasmine rice.
WHAT I HAD:
Red potatoes, garlic, red bell peppers, spinach, zucchini, tomato, coconut milk, curry paste (and a slew of various curries and spices)
WHAT I NEEDED:
Extra-firm tofu, broccoli, and ginger

HOW I MANAGED TO COCK IT UP:
Apparently I suffered a minor stroke in the produce aisle. I grabbed the ginger, which was really the only thing I remembered. Then I grabbed another Zuke (what?) and some green onion/scallions (my zig-zaggy brain was thinking about making quinoa w/garlic and black beans this weekend). Then I passed over the tofu completely in order to sample some cheese. That was some great cheese! So I doubled back to the produce aisle...feeling like I was forgetting something, but then tossing the sharp goats-milk cheddar in my basket.

Circling the store, I was further buffaloed by their deli selection...Sallying forth only when I mentally made the committment to "making" my dinner versus something pre-packaged...and I still managed to toss the chickpeas w/garlic and spinach in my basket. Leave me alone...I WAS STARVING!!!

Getting home, setting everything out, stepping back, putting my hands on my hips...I started cussing up a blue streak when I realized what I'd forgotten. I stopped long enough only to fuel the fire by imagining the looks from the hippy cashiers as they mutter under their breath "Forgot something the 1st time...eh?" with a little chuckle. Which, in turn, would launch me across the register in an apocolyptic rage and throttle them by their hemp necklace and knit yarn-beanie until the beat me down with sacks of wheat germ.

I was not starting in a happy place. (And the f#ck all thing was that this was the kind of s#it I'd do when Moda and I cooked together. FYI? There IS in fact a huge difference between Kosher Salt and Sea Salt. Not that I'd know. It's on the internet somewhere. So it must be true. Grumble-frass)

Eventually, I talked myself out of going back to the co-op. I knew I didn't really need the tofu per se, and had enough veggies that procuring broccoli was a little moot. So, I started by getting to the chopper and prepping the garlic and ginger. (And here, I will provide photos and instructional commentary. Enjoy)



Sous-Cheffin'. Peel and grate the ginger and peel/finely chop 4 cloves of garlic. Place in an oversized wok (the two-hander procured from Ikea. It...uh...had some dust in it, if that gives you an indication of the last time I used it.) Adding a couple Tbsps of olive oil, sautee the garlic and ginger on low heat while choppa-choppa'ing the rest of your veggies. (De-seed the tomato as well)


I added the potatoes to saute'/soften 1st. It was a cheat, but I had nearly an entire bag of pre-cooked/sliced red tomatoes. I ain't too proud. At this point, I started cheese nibblin'. Sue me. I was multi-tasking (i.e. checking the internet, throwing my dirty gym clothes in the laundry, dog-proofing my bed and couches) before I realized that I should, in fact, babysit the burner...as the ginger/garlic was starting to burn a little. It was also here that I figured that I would be the only one eating it...so f#ck it.


I also tossed in sprinkles of tumeric, vindaloo seasoning, salt, pepper, and hot curry powder to taste.

Step 2, I tossed in the remaining veggies (along with some snap peas for snap) and let them go for a few minutes before emptying the lite coconut milk over the mess and pushing it around for consistency. (Stirring It's called stirring I guess?)

Step 3- toss in the stuff that's most likely to get "wilty" last. There's really no science here. At this point I wondered why I wasn't drinking wine. Then I saw I had that chickpea deli salad? And tossed it riiiight the f#ck in there. Also, I noticed after dropping a dollop of green curry paste in the mix that I had splashed the sauce all down the front of my pants/t-shirt. I considered stripping down and wearing naught but an apron and then taking cheesecake photos. I then remembered that I'd personally make fun of ANYone doing that very same thing if they were sober. AND realized I was sober. AND?!?! Who the hell would I send it to? My family? Weeeeird.

AND AND?!?!? Knowing my luck so far? AL would show up with the dog about the same time I was standing in front of the mirror taking pictures bare-assed and be-apron'ed. No good. Try and make good decisions, friends. At the very least, one's that you won't be embarrassed about later.

Having forgot the jasmine rice, I did manage to rustle up some microwaveable brown rice which I dumped the whole mix on top of. AL did manage to show up 30 minutes early (thankfully after I'd cleaned up) and made the initial comment of "Is there any MEAT in it?" When I responded in the negative, he performed an about face and ran down to Holy Land for some protein. Okay.

He did eventually try some and proclaimed it as "killin'" which surprised the nuts off of me since I figured he'd immediately hate the hell out of it. And even after trying it myself, I was happy enough that it was palatable, and made enough to power me through the week.

Bottom line? Next time? I'm writing my ingredients list in advance. This improv was definitely not funny, but at least it was not painful either.

Lucky me...
:(

The results are in!

I'm about to tell you a tale of the results of that 2012 Fitness Challenge I frassed about at the start of the year, here. For my friends who were really hoping the blog would be more "cat-centric", I'm sorry to report the kitties had to go back to their "real" dad. Also, for the visually stimulated among the lot of you- I apologize for no before or after pictures. My genial narcissism is tempered by my own self-consciousness/loathing...and dislike of topless photo's/photo's in general of myself. While I promise to keep this more factual than nauseatingly self-deprecating...I just think it'll be funnier if I tell it to you in...my own voice...Mostly, if you're interested in how the regime actually worked out for me.

Pictured: How I look at the end of a treadmill workout as I hang from the handrails- grimacing like I'm constipated and complete with a tubful of sweat, claws, and easily groomable body-hair.

Yesterday I was standing on the landing by the front door and rocking my winter running "costume" when I had an epiphany: While it is February...and stupidly balmy for MN...and there was really no reason I shouldn't go for a run...I actually said:

Fuuuuuck this.

And then I stripped out of my layers and crawled into bed for a power-nap. Do you know why? Because I was tired, and refused to feel guilty. And January is over, sucka's.

Not to put a fine a point on it- Le results, for the numerically saavy: (January 2012)

Total Workouts (Running/Weights/Karate): 37
Total Hours: 25
Total Miles: 80
Total Calories burned (est): 15,000

Height: 5' 10"
Weight: (pre) 183 (post) 180
(Note: Several of the workouts were doubled up and factually I worked out about 70% of January. Also, I don't log my "wake-up" routine of stretching/core work/upper body awakening. Or as Mr. McConnaughey sez: "Push-ups n' Sit-up's...all right all right all right")

So what did I learn? What was I hoping to gain from this? Going in, I was excited at the prospect of adhering to a new routine and sticking to it. To "not" give lipservice to training and really work my nards off- celebrity/professional athlete style! I knew that I'd either have to spend a considerable amount of time doing it. (Indicating that I either was very dedicated, or had no life to speak of. And let me tell you, friends- It's hard not to think you're the latter versus the former) I partly believed that my body would have a quick-ish response to the training and the results would be -hopefully- immediate. True, I wasn't eliminating everything from my diet like some pre-contest bodybuilder or Spartan king.

Put the Merlot and Muenster Cheese down, motherf#cker...

I figured I had my calories measured so that I was maximizing my input/output necessary to facillitate my workouts and burn any other superfluous nonsense. My OTHER hope was to navigate down toward the 170's pound-age wise...but outside of a handful of times during a morning weigh-in I never dropped down there. Sure, I went down notch on my belt. And of COURSE the stupid fast twitch muscle fibers in my arms liked having a day all to themselves. And while it wasn't shapely and sculpted, whatever subsequent weight loss happened as a result of spending more time isolating my chest allowed me to make out the (hopefully benign) sebaceous cyst that's lived in the area around my sternum my whole life.

Cyst? What cyst? I can't find anything between these throw-pillows I call my chest.

Lastly? Man oh Man oh Man oh Man. I got soooooo fah-king tired. (occasionally) Trying to run at 5 then going to work at 6-7am then hitting the gym afterwards- OR going from the gym to karate to home again? (Karate "suffered" the most. I only wedged in 2 visits in January.) My ass felt like lead. And the soreness? In my muscles? Never really went away. There was always something new ripping and tearing and re-growing. My neck and back felt sledgehammered. (Which, if the article is to be believed, means I'm storing a shit ton of eeeevil on a cellular level...)

I started to get tired of the gross and sweaty laundry I was doing sometimes twice a week. The feeling like I had to bundle up for an outdoor run and the subsequent peeling off of clothes just because it was nice out. (Or because the cute couple I pass every morning that runs together made me feel guilty) The (sometimes) two showers a day. I ended up developing an unhealthy addiction to caffeine (natch) in order to push through the day which played hell with my tummy. And if I was going to a gig at the end of the day? I couldn't even nap because I was always exhausted AND wound up!

And in the end? I didn't even manage to do the 6 days on 1 off! Sometimes I'd give it a day, two days in between here and there. I literally could not even drag my butt out the front door or from work to the gym-And I brought my gym bag every single day. (To be fair, I convinced myself that they were getting grossly tired of seeing my face daily at the club) Finally, I reiterated this to myself. I thought: "This is why models and superstars are paid the big bucks. This is why bodybuilders & fitness enthusiasts get sponsers". And I didn't want to even be built like either.

I just wanted to try on something new for a bit and stick with it.

Without seeming like I'm grumbling too much: The original idea was, truly, to determine if that type of exercise was a good option for my overall wellness/strength. I think it was a good experiment, and like all workout kerfluffles in my life I'm keeping what was useful and discarding what isn't. The leg work alone made karate easier to recover from (and the karate has been helping my reflexes- I mean, in a useful way...I can't tell you how cool it is to be able to keep the bottle of Summit that you just accidentally tipped over from falling off the counter without spilling a drop.) Spending time focusing on one body-part does along (some) room for recovery and isn't forcing your body to over-tax. (And appear like an equipment hog)

And I still really like going to the gym. This much I'm fairly certain of. And making that and karate into second homes keeps me honest and out of trouble. Add to that, over the last 30 days or so I've spoken with people who are not only returning to the gym, but some just starting to discover their own path to health, weight-loss, wellness, etc. And as a motivator, that gets me jazzed to keep going as well. I might have been fibbing a bit when I said I'm dedicating the month of February to the couch (Although "Deadwood" is taking over my life). Sue me.

And I'll see y'all at the gym.

New Adventures Part Cat...Foster Care

I suppose this act could be construed as my eating crow amongst my friends. Michael says "Blah Blah I don't want/need a dog Blah Blah I don't want/need a new cat Blah". Pet sitting is pretty low-maintenance as long as the animal is chill, (ala' Deuce) and it affords me some quality animal time with the minimum of commitment (HELLO Telling Personal Character Trait!!! Ugh...). So I supposed it was naturally only a matter of time before we welcomed some form of filthy mongrel into our home for a longer period than a friend's vacation. And so today...Welcome to pet fostering!!! Say hello to...um...





Right. Puma and Cougar are a little bit shy.




Through the Jellybean's daughter, we ended up with a line on a pair of kitties that were needing a transitional home. She informed us that they were two boys, very low-key, and have been living alone while she visited them 2 x's a week for feeding/cleaning. After smoothing out the particulars, we agreed to take them on for the next few months. And so the last few weekends on the home front have been a flurry of activity. (The roommate, for those who know, spent about 28 hours over the course of two separate weekends laboriously cleaning his bedroom from top to bottom. For my part...I did some light vaccuuming/dusting and had a couple of beers.)

In case you're curious as to "how does it take that long to clean a room?"...let's just say I'm (slightly) certain he was trying to de-Georgeify the place- his concern being that since they are both male cats, they might get set off sniffing out another former kitty. (Albeit, one that hasn't been around in over 16 months) And that kiiinda was my concern as well, only not about the fact that there've been 2 different kitties in my house in my tenure. No, I was worried that the cats would become another casualty of their environment.

The 'Bean had a very specific and regimented way of caring for Georgie Cat. One that really didn't include catnip, treats (He kiboshed any treats, citing stomach issues) He'd stack boxes of kleenex set on top of high places to keep him from eating them...old plastic grocery bags kept locked away for the same reason. Very. Specific. So now, I made a point to tell him before they moved in that they were going to be our cats that we were fostering. And we would be sharing responsibility. Of that much, I actually put my foot down.

And so, without knowing what the hell they looked like...I came home last night to discover that there were two cats wedged beneath the fainting couch in the dining room. (One convalescing post-nut-snip-surgery) Cougar is the baby, at about 16-18 months. Puma is the shy guy with a squashy face and around 4 years or so.

And I hate their names. There, I said it. I don't care if they might be named after Big Cats...one sounds like the slang for an older woman on the prowl and the other is a lame Super-Villain...


My ability to bestow goofy nicknames notwithstanding, I'm going to need to have another sit-down with the Jellybean and see how flexible he could be with calling them something other than those heathen names. I made jokes about calling them "Arnold" and "Willis"...but it just doesn't fit. And the s#itty thing is that they're still pretty much hidden away so I don't know if they actually respond in some way to those names. Do I opt for witty and ironic? Weighty Historical names? Pop-Culture one-off's? Numbers? Something plain and easy...like "Barry" and "Carl"? "Frick and Frack"? This shit keeps me awake at night, people.

Regardless...I had a small victory early this morning while my roommate and I comically laid down on the floor in front of the divan to try coaxing them out. I managed to get Coug to come to me, and hold him, and give him his post-neutering prescription without a fuss. My roommie almost started crying. The second- smaller- victory is that even though Puma doesn't come out, he's got such a fat ass that it sticks out the corner of the couch. And so...I scratch it.

It's early. There've been no snuggles nor accidents. (My roommate moved just about everything that he assumed could be knocked over to the basement...this included my wine rack. I think another talk is in order. The basement is too far to go for Pinot Noir) Moreover and unfortunately, there'll be no pictures until they can drag their buns out for some quizzical exploration. I'm afraid you'll have to be happy with this...

And the fact that yes...I did procure a big old frassy bag of catnip and some Pounce...and those f#ckers love it. > : )

Reviews: "Cowboys Vs. Aliens" et.al.

Available on DVD/Netflix/Redbox


"Cowboys and Aliens" is what happens when you're about to tuck into a beautiful hot fudge sundae with ice cream only to discover that it's mashed potatoes/gravy/meatloaf...and someone emptied a salt shaker all over it. And I actually sat through it. Bite, by mouth numbingly terrible bite.

All the elements are in place. From the title, the director, the stars, the concept. But, and this is a pretty trivial quibble but I want you to know it's about as obvious as a bad work-print: There were, like, 50 writers credited on this movie. It got to the point that someone would throw out a completely wasted non-sequiter line and I'd turn to my friend and say "I wrote that one. Me." Except even with my terrible grasp of syntax/spelling etc. could have hatched a better fever dream than this dreck. And that's where I think I'll leave this review, with some parting wisdom: Here are some cardinal rules/sins/points of frass that I live by when it comes to watching/enjoying movies. I'm an awfully simple man with simple tastes (I own "Undercover Brother" for pities sake) and I'm also fairly forgiving as well. (I own the Star Wars Prequels, Wolverine, AND X-Men 3 for pities sake) And along with the old addage "Don't Bore Me" and "Don't Bait And Switch your Genre Movie" I'd like to add one that sounds like it was farted out by a matronly schoolteacher:

Don't waste all of that potential. I'm not mad. I'm just...disappointed.

Not quite a full "MacGruber" (0/5) but hangs out with "Green Lantern" (1.5/5)


(Quick bites! Smartly planned Moviethon Trifecta: "36th Chamber of Shaolin", "Lone Wolf & Cub", and "Kill Bill: Vol. 1/Vol. 2" All available on Netflix)

You ever take the time to stalk out the films where you hear s#it like "Such and Such is a GREAT film, but borrows heavily from 'Blah' and 'Blah de Blah'..." You know what I mean. Tarantino is shamelessly honest about it. Lucas is famously known for it. And this reinforces my old man's assertion that there are "No New Original Ideas In Hollywood". (An idea I don't really share, but I like bellowing his little idiom's from time to time)

Having seen both "Bill" movies and knowing the background/where he bogarted the ideas- you'd think I'd have seen some of the original source material that have been cited by the filmmaker previously. No so. As a matter of fact, my knowledge of old chop sockey Kung Fu and Samurai Films is fairly incomplete. And for good reason. Sure, I've seen quite a few: (My friend AL and I talked about how USA Network had their version of "Kung Fu Theater"- Which replaced the Horror Film block of time "Groovy Movies".) and I've seen every Bruce Lee and most early Jackie Chan...as well as their knock-offs. (In addition to some bloody, bloody Samurai films)

What I can say is that I've never went through the entire Shaw or Kurosawa filmography and haven't felt too terrible for having missed them. They all tend to blend homogenously together in my mind and in spite of popular cult followings, I wouldn't be able to tell one from another if I was paid to.

That said, I added "36th Chamber" and "Lone Wolf" after poking through a wiki article about "Kill Bill" and finally got around to watching them. As a back to back to back piece, it actually lends itself to an entertaining afternoon/evening of cinema. Truth.

"36th" (Gordon Liu's debut) is your typical "dude gets his village impinged on, goes to the kung fu temple to learn, learns, becomes the best, goes back to his village and kicks ass" kind of film that we've all seen before- With the exception that it was actually one of the first to use the formula. There are some awesome "HOOO BOY HELL YEAH" moments in it, specifically during his training through the chambers. HOWever, my own hubris was that subsequent movies that copy the formula have done it a lot better. The kung fu is painfully slow, the bloodletting is obnoxiously bright, and the repetitive nature can get a little boring. (There's only so many times you can watch someone try to run across logs to cross a body of water- then fall in- before it gets old)

That's not to say it's a bad movie. Rather silly if you think about it. (And probably better after a couple of shots or beers.) What IS interesting is seeing exactly HOW shameless QT was in stealing some of the cooler parts of "KB I & II" with their embryonic counterpart in "36th". (The training montage with Pei Mei, carrying the water, the 1-inch punch and body conditioning etc? All there.)

"Lone Wolf" (based on the Manga series of the same name) tells the story of a Shogunate executioner who was framed for a crime he didn't commit and, having been stripped of his post, goes wandering the countryside with his 3-year-old son Daigoro as an assassin for hire in order to reclaim vengeance on those who wronged them.

Okay, so it's a bit more complicated than that plot-wise. What you do get is about 85 minutes of tense action and some of the most unbelievably amazing sword fighting and displays of Japanese weaponry committed to film. The actor playing Lone Wolf/Itto barely registers an emotion for the entire film, only occasionally showing happy/sad (he usually wears a constipated grimace) and when he is finally goaded to action (either by circumstances or his own machinations) it is worth the time holding your breath leading up to it.

My only major gripes is that you can tell that it was part of a larger story ("Sword of Vengeance" is only one in a roughly 6 part film series) and my DVD had some sound/coloring issues. Worth noting are some of the special features which feature a preview for "Zatoichi the Outlaw"...by far the funniest 5 minute trailer that you've ever seen.) When you watch the sword work in "Lone Wolf", re-watch "KB: I" for the House of Blue Leaves fight or "KB: II" for the trailer fight scene. You'll get it. You'll get deja vu all over again.

So if you have an afternoon and evening to kill, you could do far worse than watching this film quadrology with friends.

2012 Fitness Regime!

Righto! Fourth-a, Fourth-a, Fourth-a January and it's about time to come clean with the new regime! I mentioned that I was going to try a few new things to shake up my aging carcass in terms of health/wellness and new things it shall be. (It's here that I feel it encumbent to point out that one of the many reasons I don't make the typical resolutions is that I feel fairly okay with the fact that I have exercised and ate right for the last several years. That's not a bragging point, mind. Clearly it's not turned me into an Adonis or challenged me in the way my running workouts have, you know?)

Anyway, we're breaking things down anew this year and as I pointed out earlier I've got a whole new bag of old-cheap moves to try out on myself in 2012. And it starts with chucking the current routine and embarking on something a little more ambitious than I've been accustomed to but hopefully (after a 1-2 month attempt) may start to prove results. And it actually starts by keeping the weight routine pretty simple by attacking the body 1 piece at a time.

(Routine bogarted from the December 2011 Muscle and Fitness)

The weight routine works similarly to a circuit routine, minus hitting all body parts during the same workout. For my part, I've been engaging in moderate (in both frequency and intensity) "super-sets" for the better part of the last 6-7 months. From a time-saving standpoint, it isn't really a bad workout and moreover it's great for being able to tax two contrasting muscle groups that work opposite each other for maximum affect. Problem is? I'm a little stuck right now.

So, the new work-out will be incorporating tenets of both bodybuilding and sports/strength-training by following a "6 on-1 off approach". (Focusing on working one body part, once a day, six-days in a row. The LEGS get special attention* with one light and lastly one heavy workout day before your final day of rest.) This goes on for 3-4 weeks before a rest week and the resuming. If I'm not feeling peachy or I don't look dead-nasty sexy with my clothes off (or have dropped 10-15 consistent pounds. I'll take either) Then I'll shuck it and look into a new routine. I might even try throwing in the occasional "century"** workout too.

In short:
Sun- Arms (Bicep/Tricep/Forearm)
Mon- Off
Tues- Legs (light)
Wed- Moobs (Chest)
Thurs- Back
Fri- Shoulders
Sats- Legs (heavy)***

Ambitious? Yes! However I've a bit of free time for the next...for a bit, and if I can continue this sans distraction I'm hoping for some palpable results. (Also, I'll be able to take my time with the equipment. Supersets are great, but as soon as you get your ass off a bench to go switch exercises SOMEone will be bound to swoop in your place. And hey! The time saved will be about the same since I'm focusing on one body part versus two.)

But...but Michael?!?! Where's all the RUN-ning bulls#it you've been boring us with?!?! Funny that- I'm in the middle of my 3rd draft of an article to submit to "RW" magazine on my own journey (and the help I've received from friends) of becoming someone who enjoys distance running. Does that mean I'm done racing? Mmmmmnahh. I'm still on the fence whether I'm planning on entertaining thoughts of Grandma's Glory (I'm pretty sure I'd be crew-less. Not a big deal, but I don't know if running w/o moral support from buddies so far away from my home base is something I'm ready for)

Anyway, for the 1st quarter of 2012 I plan on dialing it back a bit. I'm getting new kicks to break in, but I don't plan (really) doing any runs in excess of 6 miles - at the longest- and possibly doing the 5 weeks on- 1 week off (or reduced mileage to 20-30% of my "normal" miles---which has been floating around 20-30 miles a week. Weird.) Anyway, I'll still be logging my mileage on Dailymile and Mapmyrun. LOOK OUT! Chugga-Chugga-Chugga. One of the bigger things is I plan on dragging my ass outside to start finding new and wonderful places- in state and out- to go hike/run. I think 2011 was criminally under-hiked. There, I said it. Ground must be pounded.

My martial goals are fairly simple: Black belt. Nearly 15 years at it means no excuses, and my biggest motivator right now is "Don't beat yourself up (snerk) if you miss one night. Just go consistently- weekly- and build up your skills, strength, and abilities until you get it." Easy, huh? I started in Mid-to-Early November and gave myself a (loose) 1-Year goal. I started once a week, bumping up to twice a week. I've ordered new sparring shoes and a bo, and have already sewn and re-sewn repairs on my uniforms. When my gear arrives, I fight. Easy. I might even toss a tourney or two in there. Might. Again, nothing more ambitious with karate besides my immediate 12-month plan.

As for food, I'm keeping it the same: Light meals, mostly vegetarian. Lots of vegetables, fruits, brown rice, quinoa. Work lunches are going to still be spinach salad w/legumes and a hearty light soup. I've taken to keeping nuts and low-fat cheese around the house to keep the edge off if I get peckish. I'm still drinking 1.5 gallons of water a day and I have NO intention of giving up my 2-3 cups of coffee. So there.


That's it. No pictures to be posted, before or after. I WILL try to be more diligent with the statuses and I'll let y'all know how it goes!

*I've tried to synch up my leg workouts to coincide w/karate. It's a great warm up and with a few near-miss classes that felt like I snapped my hamstring, I found out later that getting on the machinery has helped get some of my flexibility (and speed) back. On leg days, I'll also be choosing a different aerobic post-weight workout like the bike or elliptical.

**I tried this with my last chest/back super-set before New Years...and wow. Try doing 1 resistance exercise per body part (2 if you're into masochism) and do 1 set for 100 reps. Yup. Light enough that you can count to 100 doing bench presses, squats, bicep curls, crunches...name it. I could barely lift my arms. Good as a once and a while deal.

***As my high school conditioning coach would say to me: MIKE! DO YER SQUATS!!! If you aren't doing open squats...even on a Smith Machine- do it. Best damn exercise to get better at IMO. More so than the hack sled, nautilus , inverted squat rack...you name it.

"Best of 2011 Lis...Wait"

I just frassed through the last few January's since I started this dumb blog and most of my previous New Year scribblings have been personal reviews. B#tching about being drunk or my weight or blah blah blah...For that, I'm sorry. Really, truly. And as a guy that doesn't make resolutions that much any more, that'll be one of the last times I attempt to be an apologist. As a definition of character as I creep up on my 4th decade, I kind of think I just need to get back to nutting up and shutting up and standing by certain convictions. Prevent myself from seeming wimby wimby on matters. So my desire for 2012, if not resolve, is to spend some time digging deep into my character to see if there are areas of growth that I can learn from and hopefully make me calmer hanging out in my own skin. (I do that a lot. And by "skin" I mean "head". And we all know that my head space is a very, very messy place to kick it.


2011, for what it's worth...felt like a really strange fever dream. Like how your eyes feel after having been in a pool for hours. Or the feeling you think treading water in an ocean must be like after the Indianapolis has sunk and right before the PBY picks you out of the water- It sucks, but at least you didn't get eaten by a shark. Nothing really, really bad happened this year to frass about on a personal level. I can tell you all as subjectively and honestly as I can that 2011 just really wasn't my favorite year. Or rather, it wasn't until the last few months or so that I really started to feel something of a shift in the world that was palpable and controllable. And that gave me a smidgen of comfort.


I'm starting off 2012 by listing a few of my favorite things from 2011 in addition to some things that warranted our either our disdain/disgust/wrath or our accolades and attention. For those that know me...some of these topics will wind up being about as political as I ever tend to get- and even my politicking will be as bland and generic as ketchup. As always, if I didn't see your gig it doesn't mean it wasn't the best...I just don't see a f#ck ton of theater. I'm trying to change that a bit...BUT NO APOLOGIES!!!! NONE!


Ahem:



Personal Best's: I managed to run 3 half-mary's, two 10K's, (And PR every time). I moved to a vegetarian dominated diet. I didn't over-over spend for the year. I lost weight, avoided hard alcohol, picked up a really enjoyable (knock on wood) new job, performed in 3 shows (and met some great new people. AND did a musical...AND a well-attended Fringe Show.), saw my first Twins game in the new stadium, went camping at the same Kampground, kept up the garden and transformed the back forty into the start of something pretty, threw a quiet raging party, began a noble slumber on my tempurpedic bed, went to Vegas for work, grew an EPIC beard, started hitting karate regularly, had a great birthday, went to some amazing new restaurants, and did some home projects that went outside of my comfort zone. Oh, and I finally got myself a new phone. I stiiiiill love technology...



Ehhhhh...that sucks: I worked some s#itty...s#itty temp jobs that started to drag me down to a level of lip-biting anxiety that nearly bested me. I got mega-sized sick for the first time in 15 years and lost my voice- awesome when you're in a musical. Had some car kerfluffles/break-downs and needed new tires. I lost my driver's liscense in Vegas. I busted my central a/c playing with a roto-tiller forcing me to undergo a few unwanted expenses...and finished up late Fall/early Winter with some really soul-dislodging news.





People/Things in 2011 that warranted a big thumbs up:

The "Occupy" protestors. Lean whatever way you want to politically. Bitch about how they only had a few hardships to endure and it's nowhere NEAR how awful it is in other parts of the world...but: We, as a nation, can still make a lot of noise when we want to. And it was here, Minny. And it'll take a select few hermits who won't know the difference between the 1%/99%. That much was made clear. And good on those who did it.


My friends and family. I get that this is a blanket statement, but hear me out- My mom...who went outside of her own comfort zone to volunteer and keep volunteering at the theater. To taking charge of and actively working to pimp out her antiquities like a 21st century Marcus Brodey. My brother and his family- raising two of the most adorable and wickedly funny children. For surviving a corporate downsizing and move. And for continuing to be an example of responsibility, respect, and loyalty to the rest of us.



My extended family...we managed to get through '11 without any death's, thank the Gods. My uncle managed to survive his heart surgery. My aunt/uncle on the West Coast found newer (better) employment in sunny San Diego. My cousins remained focused and entreprenuerial.

My friends who had the babies. There were sooooo many babies. Like, 500 babies. And they'll probably all be good at sports. And great parents all...

My friends who found new, exciting, and challenging work.

My friends who (A) ran with me. There support and energy kept me moving forward. Who (B) ran either their first marathon (an amazing event, btw) or their first half- it was a year for friends to push themselves into something new. And lastly who (C) started to take up running/fitness routines to frame their own personal fitness goals: Whether it was for rehabilitative purposes, health, weight-loss...There were so many people on F'Book who started an affair with the treadmill and it just made my heart happy every time I would read their status.


My friends who moved/bought houses/bigger boats...


My friend AL who got himself a hairy stepson in the form of Deuce.



My roommate. After we talked about how he's staying for the immediate future, he has consistently proven to be a solid and stand-up man. You should meet him. Or at the very least, introduce him to any single lady-friends.

My neighborhood. I've hermited a lot in 2011, so it's nice NE Mipples has a metric f#ck ton of options regarding restaurants and things to do. Heidi's was my favorite surprise of 2011, but I'm still in love with my neighborhood after 7 years. M'wah.

As an actron/power nerd I'd be so very, very remiss if I didn't say Craiggles and Anna getting their Ivey dues, the fantastic productions of "August: Osage County" at Park Square and "Street Scene" w/Girl Friday...man. I saw some beautiful intimate shows/performances (and some amazingly fun/smiley confections ala' "Mercy Watson" and "Hairspray") but the ensemble work moved these productions into a higher pantheon of shows I'll be digesting and talking about for a while. Shows and performances that make me want to be a better actor myself. Yeah.

The casts of "Joseph", "12 Angry", and "Knit et.al"...well I think I lucked out. I really really did. And had a great time during every show.



And for my final note: Thank you, movie studios. Thank you for putting out the kind of nerdy, fantastic fare that we've been waiting for and heaping it on. I'm talking to you, Marvel. Tell DC that "Batman" isn't their only property and that they should NEVER have cocked up "Green Lantern" like they did. AVENGERS ASSEMBLE!!!

People who should be taken down a notch from 2011: Politicians. Just. Ohhhh...f#ck it. Here's the thing, and this is real and the truth- We elect people to make decisions for us, and preferably in our best interest. And...and they just sit their idly and have to shut down the fucking gov't just to make a decision? I really could give a shit on the details- people lost jobs. Work. Activities meant to stimulate local (seasonal) business were shut down. So here's a thought: Stay open. Work overtime. Because it's what the rest of us schlubs are forced to do. And usually the word "mandatory" comes before it. I'd hate to think we're impeding tee time.

And if, if I hear about how so and so raised $x million dollars on a campaign...I'm liable to slam my head in a door. I need that money too. More than you! I need a bathroom and garage! You want elected? Prove you can do something. Better yet, prove you can do it on a budget...like the rest of us. And fix my tub.


MN Sports teams. You whiney little grundles. Win some f#cking games for a change. Use the Lynx as your shining example if you need to. Ish, ish, ish...

F'Book. Stop changing every five minutes. You're infuriating. And terrible for we ADHD sufferers.

Bacon. Enough. Yuck. Same with Breakfast. "Most important meal of the day" my ass. You're giving a complex to lunch, second breakfast, and dinner.

Movie Review: The Robber (2010)

(*Mild Spoiler Warnings)

I've been watching kung-fu/chop-sockey movies for a long, looooong time. Since getting into karate years ago, I found that I could establish a new appreciation for how the respective martial art forms translate (usually into pretty s#itty movies) onto the big screen. Now if we wanted to strike up a parallel, you probably couldn't get me to draw the same conclusion about running movies. While running/distance running/recreational (and Olympic) racing can been found onscreen for years as a plot device ("Chariots of Fire", "Personal Best", both "Prefontaine" movies...including the one with Crudup and the other one with Jordan Catalano come to mind), those films tend to fall in the "dull" category of "sports films".

Then we have movies dealing with a character "running" running and...yeah, I've frassed about good running in movies before. (Franke Potente does it RIGHT in "Run Lola Run", Matt Damon in the "Bourne" movies, Daniel Craig as "Bond", the Mayan's in "Apocalypto"...say what you will about Mel, but he runs well in movies ala' "Lethal Weapon 2" and directs good running. The same, however, can not be said about Mr. Steven "Flippers" Seagal. It's true)

As another parallel, I didn't start noticing running (i.e. how people run) in movies universally until I started distance/race training. (See "Apocalypto") Because let's face it: A movie with people karate chopping people in the face to advance the plot is infinitely more rewarding than a movie about watching Marathon after Marathon. (Pleeeease, don't get me wrong- it's important to WATCH races live as I've already established. The cheering is brilliant. The concept of it onscreen, though is akin to watching "Manos" over and over.)

Since I 1st heard of this movie I was very curious, and it took me a while to get it in my queue line so that I could enjoy it on my big screen- And I was presented with a first: An enjoyable and wholly satisfying heist thriller that uses running as the through line. I just said that.

Based on the true life exploits of the Austrian Bank Robber "Shotgun Ronnie" aka Johann Kastenberger, it tells the tale of a marathon runner who is released from prison only to start back on a criminal path as soon as he's released. His M.O. includes wearing a Ronald Reagan mask and knocking over multiple banks at a time- by running from bank to bank. Yes. In the meantime, he keeps up his alibi by setting numerous Austrian marathon records including a mountain Mary.

There were quite a few things that endeared me to the movie from the start. When we first meet Johann, he's running circles in the prison courtyard wearing technical gear and a Garmin. (Nice prison, btw) When called back to his cell, he resumes running on a treadmill (REALLY Nice prison, btw.) Immediately after release and meeting w/his parole officer- he knocks over a bank. (This happens w/in the first 8 minutes). Eventually he hooks up with an old female friend and starts a romantic relationship with her, all while training, winning marathons, and knocking over multiple banks. As you can imagine, his world begins to squeeze in on him as soon as she finds out about his double-life.

Interspersed throughout the movie are wonderfully filmed running scenes. Whether it's an sprint to escape across a field/park, training in front of a running club, volunteering as a guinea pig for a shoe firm to test his stride/bloodwork for extra money, crossing numerous finish lines- it's a fairly accurate depiction of the life of a dedicated and serious distance runner. (A favorite scene is after robbing a bank he's removing his telemetry strap and plugs it into his laptop to gauge his heart rate before, during, and after the robbery to see if there were areas for improvement.)

Since this is a drama, it should be said that the ending is more "Heat" than "The Town" (although his mask evokes images from that similar film) but at a little over 90 minutes it clips along at a brisk pace (PUN!) without dragging out unnecessary exposition. He is who he is, and can't stop himself from being who he is as much as he wouldn't be able to stop himself from running.

Highly recommended thriller/heist movie, but especially to runners of anything ranging from a 5K to an Ultra.

(The Robber is currently available on Netflix Streaming)

4.5/5

Make your early heart-healthy resolution!

(Article attached below) When I'm treadmillin', if I'm not running lines or plugged into the local news/Jeopardy I'll occasionally grab a magazine from the gym courtesy shelf by the exercise bikes. Mostly it's to cover the 'mill monitor (I dislike constantly knowing my time/mileage if I'm doing a long-ish dreadmill run. I'll occasionally peek to see where I am, but mostly it's a better motivator for me to concentrate on running form or listen to "S-words for $400, Trebek!") Magazines just aren't easy to read on the 'mill...typically failing in staying open unless you're just walking.

I grabbed the most recent Musclemag International (One of the rags I used to subscribe to in my youth. This one had a vein-y moose-y guy on the cover advertising "bigger delts just by sitting down!!!") and after about 3 miles or so I decided to start flipping through the advertisments (of which, 3/4th's of the magazine is comprised) bodybuilding workouts (of which...okay, I confess I might try one starting in January. Details to follow.) And found a list of articles called "Muscle Bites" (whatever. I don't work creative for the rag, okay?) and in it, there were the monthly doses of wisdom/random fitness facts- one of which prompted me to bogart the article from the magazine, research some of the facts, and post it here today.

(Sources cited. I found this particular article fascinating since it falls within conversations I've had recently with some other gym-rat buddies- not necessarily argumentative, mind you. I just like the simple logic behind it. And the American Journal of Physiology. Natch. Enjoy.)

DUST OFF THE RUNNING SHOES (Musclemag Dec 2011 issue, in "Muscle Bites")

Although studies have shown weight training increases metabolism and therefore helps to burn calories longer after a workout, researchers at Duke University Medical Center (Durham, NC) conducted an 8-month study that found aerobic exercise (such as jogging) is better than resistance training for losing belly fat in particular. Aerobic training greatly reduce visceral and liver fat (found in the abdomen), improving risk factors for heart disease and other health problem, whereas weight training alone didn't.

Aerobic exercise burns 67% more calories than weight training.

Source: American Journal of Physiology , published 8/16/2011

Please note: This was included with other "bites" including "Daily Exercise Reduces the Risk of Death" and another article advising to speed your metabolism w/Hot Peppers.

Farewell to Grundlepusses...

Deuce Castle: The Punisher. (We watched "Punisher: War Zone" last night. A crazy, crazy movie- btw. Not "bad". Just..."Crank" level crazy. Also, my pacifist charge did not want to pose with said replica gun. Good boy.)

Today will mark the end of my dog-sitting posts. It's been a fun test-drive for a while, however I'm looking forward to getting back to routine over the Holidays with the last month or so having been a roller-coaster of sorts. It'll also serve as a explanation as to why I'm far from a suitable candidate for pet ownership of any sort. (Seriously? There seems to be this unspoken arbitrary concept that if you have a yard, and own a home? You need a pet. This, friends, is just not the case with me.)

So...did you guys know that I work out? Yeah yeah...so one of the dumb things I usually don't riff about here is the non-run/karate/weight-centric stuff that comprises my morning "routine". Almost every work day morning, in lieu of coffee I try and stretch out and do core work and push-ups. (Skipping the crunches/leg lifts at the gym saves time. And if you aren't doing your ab work- do. After 20 years, I figured out that I actually notice when I my "center" is getting weak...and not just "flabby")

Deuce...has hindered that a bit. By way of saying he lays across my chest or puts his paw on my forehead. Or tries to crawl under my body. And pushing him away actually encourages him. I'd like to think he's playing "personal trainer", but it's actually kind of a nuisance.

And that's...that's just a small part of it. It's "cute" when he sleeps in my bed but he's a hog. There's also the responsibility. I've been flying solo this last month and in getting used to being "alone" means I need to acclimate myself to the concept of what my day to day is going to be like. To "ride the waves" and just see how and where life carries me. Dig? Every day this week I've been scampering home like a wombat to let him out, getting up earlier to feed him, get him his specialty food. Oh, and the cost. I'm a floater with out a large amount of disposable income, and what income I do have? I want to/like to travel. (Have you any IDEA how expensive dog food is? Moda's cat food with the noble cougar on the bag was like taking out a 2nd mortgage whenever you had to hit Petsmart!) Not to mention vet visits, emergencies, shots, other pets, "walkies".

Lastly...'nother little known fact? I'm a neatnik. Ever since first setting out on my own it's been my "thing". Make the bed. Hang up the clothes. Vacuum/Dust regularly. Make sure the sinks empty at night etc. (RECESSIVE GENE? RECESSIVE GENE!!!) And the things that I've never been a huge fan of regarding pets involve de-linting, de-pooping (either the backyard or a cat box) and trying to keep foul smells to a minimum. So I guess that goes for both pets and babies. ZING!

See, outside of girlfriends/roommates? I've never "owned" a pet of my own. With Georgie Teh Kitteh, I had a Jellybean roommate who was (if you can believe it) more obsessive with the maintenance of the beast than even I could ever be. (If you ever saw his daily morning routine...of how he fed him. Cleaned the box daily, including getting down on his hands and knees to hand-sweep into a dustbin any residual litter...well it's actually fairly inspired.) And with the Deuce, while it's nice that the Bean has volunteered daily to be on dog-walking detail for both of their benefit? It's not something I can rely on the day-to-day. Nor would I impose that on him. Without the Bean, I'd have been running home over lunch to let him out.

Soooo...yeah. The few benefits I've glommed this week are that he's a low-key dog who doesn't bark and has good fur...and my roommate likes taking him for the occasional walk to meet chicks. My dressing him in funny poses makes me a weirdo versus a quality pet owner.

So that's that. I'm good for pet-sitting, to be sure. And I'm good with animals. But like with babies, I like to be able to give them back and return to my peaceful albeit frassy day-to-day. Couple that with a streak of worry-wortness. Mea Culpa, yo.

For your benefit, and for those aminal (sp?) lovers out there who've enjoyed seeing the hootenanny hijinks of one Mssr. Deucalion, I leave you with photos my roommate took of him frolicking at the dog park. Say buh-bye, Deuce-y! Hep Hep Hep Hep HEP!!!


This is my stick. There are many other sticks like it, but this one is mine.

Frolic and romp. The Jellybean was a little nonplussed with the park, citing that it was a "sausage-fest". I don't get it? Doggeh's love snausages. (I told him to try a Saturday or Sunday if he wishes to see the lovelies...or drive him to Minnehaha)

The Bean mentioned a brief panicky stare down when the pointer down there gave in to his baser instincts and growled at the Deuce. An intervention occurred.

King of the Hill?

King. Of. The. M##herF##king Hill. Beeeeeeyotch.

Come back! Come BACK, Deuce!!! Deuce...Don't GO!!!

Au Revoir, pal. See you on Adam's couch. Or when he goes out of town and doesn't want to pay for a pet hotel. ; )

Deuce Bigelow

Deuce Hefner, in robe and 1974 Pl'boy..."Well hello, young lady. You look very lovely tonight and- say...are you over 18 and want to get into modelling?" Sorry ladies. He's a eunuch, but a helluva cuddler.

Tonight was another gym procrastinator while I scampered home to inspect my charge. The roommate was home and homeworkin' but informed me they went on an "Epic" walk and made an impromptu visit to Redwright before heading home. We discussed a potential dog-park visit on the weekend during the daylight hours, both of us still holding on to our reservations about it not being our dog and what would happen if "something" were to happen... (It was here that he gave me another tip that if he was out on a walk? And it was a female dog-walker? He'd stop and chat. If it they were male? He'd scamper across the street or turn around. He's a scoundrel.)

In lieu of a gym visit and to tucker him out I went on a 2 mile jaunt myself around the parkway. My original intent was a dog-park visit-swear- but it's been dipping down in the single-digits and frankly? My hairy step-brother was having a better time of it than I was. I considered taking him on a run, but chickened out. Sue.

And when we got home, it was treats and cuddlin to the Robert Altman classic "McCabe and Mrs. Miller". (A movie where prostitution is a theme. Hence the jerry-rigged pimp outfit on the Deuce) The film, I have nothing to say about since we both started falling asleep about an hour in. Better than NyQuil, that Altman. To all my insomniatic friends? You're welcome.

My dinner with Deuce're...

Pictured: The grundler keeps the backyard varmint-free. He also piddled in the area where I planted asparagus...which, for some reason, I find ironic and hilarious.

Fact the first: In the winter time I bring my gym bag with me to work so that it doesn't freeze in my car. (Anyone dressing at the gym after their gear has spent 8 hours in a subzero car knows how much trying to put on frozen clothing sucks) The logic is that I can go from work to the gym and BOOM done. Workout accomplished.

Fact the second: I suck at this and invariably wind up going home. In the sweeter months it's fine- I usually can just run early in the a.m. or after work on a beautiful day. Or both. I'm easy. But after a long-ass day I tend to drift toward finding excuses to go straight home. (Not to be too self-loathing, the excuses are easier when I have a gig or event to attend. Or karate. Natch. Or...)

I HAVE A DEUCE-EXCUSE! Yes, I found myself barrelling home and bypassing the gymnasium in order to attend his Grundlyness. Fortunately, my roommate has taken on the task of being the daytime sitter- I fielded a remarkable number of texts from him over lunch letting me know that he has time to come home between work and school and take him for a walk. (His alterior motive was admitted in his last text, whereas he said that maybe he'll meet another single female dog-walker out in the world...and I'm fine with that. Go get'em!)

It's pretty amazing how low-key this guy is. AL told me that he's low-maintenance and he wasn't kidding. Treats and snoozin'? Snoozin' and treats...and he's good. No chewing shoes. No piddlin/poopin in the house when left alone. No barkin'. The only concession is that he knows "out" and where "out" is. (At his home at the lofts, "out" time means crossing through the building to the common dog area. At the casa, he's very aware that the back door is the out door. And he'll sit and look frassy at the door, tail a-wagging...and he just came in 2 minutes previously)

Still, he loves the backyard. Plenty of smells, plenty of sticks, and plenty of squirrels. If I wasn't such a chicken shit (of other dogs, not him) I'd meander down to the St. Anthony dog park. Except...see the aforementioned laziness. AND the fact that it was MOVIE NIGHT!

And today's episode ends on the couch with Smashburger black bean burger (soooo good), shared sweet potato fries (wow. wow wow wow.) and "Conan the Barbarian". (1981. Deuce really loved the score.) Also...we've discovered the bed. Just...just see below.

Black bean burger- not a reconstituted patty, mind- and sweet tater fries. Notice half the cup is missing? That was NOT me. You're welcome, Grundlepuss.

I'm in ur bedz! Sleepin' on the diagonal! (Taken in pitch black. Surprise!)

I will NO be moved...oh, wait...did you say O-U-T? If I must...but I can't...the bed...she is too warm.

Waitaminnit...you said this movie was in 3D? You sleep on a bed of LIES, sir!

Squirrels? Not on my watch...

Oh...hello Doggie.

Hey. Hey! This rope ain't gonna tug itself!

A conversation from back in September:

"You need a dog"

"What?"

"You need an old jazz dog"

"I don't need a dog"

"Dude. You have a yard"

"That I don't want filled with dogshit"

"Whatever. You need a dog"

Sighs...

Meet "Deuce". He isn't mine. He belongs to a jazz musician. However, while said musician is doing musical things in NYC this week I will be cataloging our time together for lack of any other blogworthy material. (I've begun hunker-down mode for the winter, and if I bore your teets off with karate/work-out kerfluffles I fear that my 2 readers would bail) This may or may not include some fanTAStic pictures...he very much likes to wear hats. So:

Deuce-bag was dropped off with instructions. He's been fed. Acclimated to the backyard. And snuffled my bed to claim his spot. However, I was abandoned around 11pm when my roommate came home and he had a new hand to pet him. Then I found out he's staked a claim on the loveseat in the TV room. Which means my previously imagined scenario of he and I being BFF's for the next 4 nights...watching "Sex in the City" and eating tacos? Nope.

He does like sweet potato fries. And ice cream. HEP HEP HEP HEPPPP!!!

Title Wave

I really had to write something about this movie. It wouldn't go away, it's simply that affecting. And unless you missed the class on sarcasm in junior high, the reason I viewed this trainwreck of a movie- streaming..and in fast-forward- was because my friend D-Gangs made a comment regarding a streaming snafu he experienced: "I was trying to watch the 90's action flick 'Blown Away' starring Jeff Bridges and Tommy Lee Jones on Netflix instant last night, Instead I got a Corey's soft core flick."

What Davey's error meant, was that he sat through some of this:


Nicole Eggert, channeling pre-"Clueless" Alicia Silverstone in 1992. Haim just looks plain stoned.

With this:

In 1994, it was okay to believe that Tommy Lee Jones could passably play an IRA bomber, complete with Irish accent...that he ordered from a box of Lucky Charms. To be fair, Bridges tries to affect his own later in the movie, but it's so bad. Not even "good" bad. SUCKS! Of course, the similarity in the box art could be confusing. Could have been worse...could have been a remake of "Blow Dry"...

I had to...had to write an article

Can you believe we live in a world that shakes it's head collectively when LiLo gets sent to jail for 5 hours? Harder still to believe that, with audiences salivating over the closing saga of "Twilight" and who's team would you be on, young performers were generally relegated to the kind of passing interest that we save for Victoria's Secret ads on the side of a moving bus. Which is to say, rarely were the teens in these movies hung with the microscopic fascination we do these days.

Because for the kajillion boyfriends/best friends in the back ground of a 80's/90's feature film who get quickly forgotten (where- if fate allows- they can reinvent themselves on a successful sit-com television in the 2000's...maybe even an Oscar!) we had a handful of teen heartthrob actrons that spent weeks on the covers of teeny-bopper magazines and seemed, you could believe, that they'd be on top of the world forever! Riding trends, fads, clothing styles, haircuts like they were a luck-dragon...befriending famous pop music stars or professional athletes and directors. Drugged and drunken Tomfoolery was passed off as "exhaustion" and could quickly be glossed over for bigger grown-up stars problems, while Drew Barrymore was posing for Playboy to restore her "cred". (And let's not forget the perpetual f#ck up, Robert D Jr. He had yet to prove his talent and become the shining example of talent and redemption he went on to embody 2, 3, 5 x's over until he was almost washed up. Even River Phoenix had another year left in him)

And then we have the Corey's...His Haimliness and Feldman. And folks, for someone who has a HUGE soft spot for "The Lost Boys", "The Goonies", and even to a lesser extent "License to Drive" and "Dream A Little Dream" (if only because the latter was on HBO in rotation every two hours, you just couldn't get away from it, or from the stupid "James Dean" song from the soundtrack. Or that could just be foreshadowing. Annnnyway)

It's not every day we get a movie that will capture the hubris and downfall of a pair of, if not talented, at least popular actors of their day. If you think about it, the balancing act of hopefulness and reality was petering out at the end of the 80's. The 90's pushed in a major event during the time of this film's release: Sharon Stone's pubic hair. By presenting audiences with hard, violent crime films (not gritty, mind you, unless we're still talking about her merkin) we were shuffling off the teen heart throb image that was so popular in the 80's and looking for real people. (And many of these heart throbs were heading to the small screen anyway.) And let's face it...The Corey's were getting older. And since we were still a minute or two away from the mid-90's that would usher in the quiet "Independent Film Drama" that allowed many "stars" to pursue projects that challenged them as actors, and hopefully created a renaissance for audiences to accept that they could move past their old images.

Except I'm pretty sure these two burn boys just read a draft from their agent which made them think it was all going to be love scenes and 8-balls...Hoooooeeeee. Poor bastards. Where to begin? (It's here that I need to point out that I barely made it past the opening credits before realizing I made a horrible mistake. Since I had a real acting event to attend...you know...a "play"? I ended up fast forwarding it so that it pretty much lasted all of 22 minutes. Still. Too long)

The problem isn't the plot, which is stupid. (17 year old rich girl seduces Haim in order to convince him to kill her dad...when it's implied that her dad may have killed her mom. Feldman is around to trade name-calling with Haim. Nicknames like "clown nuts" and "dick nose". Honestly, this was the dialogue that spoke to me the most, since it's the way I talk to my best friend. Except...you know...we didn't go scouting high school chicks parties when we were 24 years old- I mean did I mention she's supposed to be under-age? And that's a good thing?)

Anyway, what acts as a depressing time-capsule is how both of those dudes, who're at the ripe age of 21 in 1993 (or 1992 when they might've filmed it) looked like 37 year old burn-outs. It doesn't look it...in their body language, interacting with each other as "buds", or when they take their clothes off (which they both do. A lot. As does Ms. Eggert. Which makes it difficult at times to differentiate during the awkward writhing love scenes between she and "The Haim", since he still has that downy physique of a 14 year old anorexic. Here's a hint- she's wearing a gallon of spray tan.) It's just when we first see them try to play themselves out at a party, they invariably do look like the sad older dudes who get up at weddings to dance along with the hip cool sounds of the early 80's while the younger crew waits at the corner of the dance floor staring stupidly while THEY wait to hear Ke$ha.

Wait.

Oh...and writhe they do. Their first coupling is an exercise in awkward groping, with Haim undressing her with the zeal and confusion of someone recently released from EST. Eggert looks mildly put upon. And...I'm sorry, she's supposed to be 17 years old. I don't know why this bothered me so much when I can watch a Larry Clark movie and "get it". Oh wait. Yes I do. It's because his face STILL looks like a 37-year-old burn out! Feldman delivers his lines with the same forced gravelly growl he gave his Frog brother back in 1987's "The Lost Boys" but with his lame pony tail, effeminate way of cupping his cigarette "European" style, and posturing...it doesn't reeeeeeeally shriek "I'm a badass! Quiet! Dangerous!"

And then...they fight. Yes, the Corey's (clearly not emulating their "real-life" relationship) get into a knock-down drag'em out fight...that has the force, swagger, and gusto that you'd see between two kittens in a slap fest. I actually got angry at this point and sped up the film to the end. Bad fight choreography can suck, even if they aren't "fighters", per se. But when it hurts...then you pray for their ruination.

Anyway, Eggert did it. And at the bitter end we have a protracted show down scene between the three of them and some cops which wins the award for the lamest death scene by a character when Eggert FINALLY bites it...in fact, it's either king-sized lame or needs to be in a hall-of-fame somewhere next to the awful death's Schwarzenegger bestowed in "Raw Deal" and "Commando" combined.

Anyway, you have three actors...one of whom (Eggert) would stay on and retain notoriety on "Baywatch" for the next few years and doing another couple of Straight-To-Video starkers. The Corey's would have to wait for their time to rise again, and even then it'd be really to parody themselves. Haim wasn't able to bring himself back...he just kept on spiraling.

Anyway...this movie depressed the shit out of me, and then made me feel a little better about my talent as an actor while I was at it.

Another quick sabbatical

Hello, readers. Just wanted to give you a quick heads up that I'll be engaging in another brief blogging sabbatical. I shall return. And happy trails.

In which we close down the marathon season...

...for now. I guess Team Ortho added a half-Marathon this coming January to the Polar Dash and...I'm sorry. That should be renamed the Frostbite 13. Not worth the commemorative medal, nuh-uh...

Pictured: The author, pre-Monster Dash on 10/29/2011. Temperatures at approximately 7:30 a.m. were hovering in the high 20's. Yes. Feeling was lost in our extremities.

Well I survived the final half-marathon of 2011 and I'm pleased to say my easy-going gameplan entering the race paid off in the form of shaving 14 minutes off of my previous half-marathon PR. Pip.

And it was cold, too. Lord. Frosty ground. Knee-rattling weather. It seemed (as we pulled up next to the cathedral in a rock-star space) that the rock-star space was going to be the only respite. Thankfully, there's a church nearby! They'll take in the tired and poor huddled runners! Right? Kind of. The interior temperature wasn't much warmer than outside. The bishops were crusting out (mildly) the runners who were posing for pictures and fouling their restroom with their pre-race constitutionals while they tried to perform their Saturday morning service.

I was too busy mentally wondering how I'd manage getting in and out of my Spidey-suit in order to pee a second time with fingers that were numb if I was separated from Moda. (For a funnier story about that and her own reflections, go here.) By the time we decided to head outside to see if it had warmed up (It hadn't) the grounds and streets around cathedral hill were now swarming with runners- from the meticulously planned and hilariously costumed (There were Q-Tips, Nancy Kerrigan and Tonya Harding, generic "kitty-cats", plenty of "Where's Waldos", Animals, Aliens, Produce ala' "banana-man", cave people, and in our group: The game "Operation", Audrey Hepburn, Spider-Mikey, and an overworked and exhausted writer/actress) to the hard core runners...in their technical tops, wraparound shades, fleece hoodies, gobs of body glide for their nips and anti-glare for under their eyes.

In other words, those who looked warm, comfortable, and ready...and the rest of use be-lycra'ed idiots.

Pictured: Be-lycra'ed idiot #7365. Does my choice of super-hero make me look fat? Or the oft-commented superfluous short-shorts? Whatever. It cut out the wind-chill to the little web-shooter if you know what I mean.

After a freezing stand-around waiting in front of the Biffies while the pre-gun countdown was announced, we managed to dress (I did, anyway) and do a fast trot to find the 2:00 pace group. (Our only "real" strategery was to hang out with that particular group and see how we were feeling periodically on the course.) We found our way to an empty pocket. Did some quick hammy and quad stretches while making small talk around us (met a guy who had just ran his first ultra) and then "Boom". Go time.

After the 1st 2 miles or so Moda asked to hang back a little to have a comfortable and enjoyable run while I attempted my due diligence by standing next to the lady with the time-stick. After engaging with small chit-chat with some other runners we came to our first down hill and I got all excited for the burst of speed. So looking down at my little scamper steps I motored, only looking up when the road started even-ing out and the cop cars started bottle necking us in...and realized I had promptly lost my pacer. Fudge.

Thankfully, I still saw some costumed butts up ahead that were originally in my line of vision so I hung with them. And if I passed'em, I'd find new butts to stare at. Isn't racing fun? Occasionally I'd do the doofy thing and blather lines in the "voice" of whatever costume I'd pass next to. (Count von Count for example was "6! 6, magical miles remaining...Ah. Ha. Ha. Haaa!" Ron Burgundy got "ST.PAUL! Founded by the Aztecs in the 16th century, it's Spanish for 'WHALE'S VAGINA'...!" Stuff like that) I checked in with Garmin'd people to get a rough sense of pace and chatted with some older folks- with a second agenda to make sure they were doing okay. (Mile 7 tends to be the pain-in-the-ass wall during Half-Mary's that can be hard to overcome with out a little motivation, IMO.)

And I guess that was it, too. I kind of felt what Moda told me about when she did Grandma's and there were long stretches with no friends/cheerleaders/run-buddies keeping you company. Just you and the chilly and bright fall parkway. Which wasn't bad. Just, soul-searingly desolate. It was here I sort of missed my Ipod, actually. (To be fair, A/D + Henry were on the course...and I'm pretty sure I scared the shit out of the people around me when- at mile 10- I screamed this!)

To wrap up...I had a little cutie pie catch up with me yelling "Spider-Man! I've been using you to keep pace!" and so we kept each other company until around mile 11.5. Her first half-Mary with a similar goal of finishing sub-2:00, I gave what meager pointers I felt weren't insulting or intrusive ("Let's work those downhills!"/"Looking great!"/"I hit 'reset' when we got to mile 10...so we just have a lil' old 5K race left!" and that sort of frassy ilk.) And with the city and the thickening crowds indicating the end was near I put on the best burst of speed I could muster. (It was here that I realized I should have been wearing a Spidey suit for every race with the number of people screaming "Go Spidey GO!" towards the end.)

I eyeballed the clock and was painfully satisfied that I actually was able to make it back in sub-2:00 with some change...(The clock reading 2:06 as I hit the medal line.) and it wasn't until my friends came over the line and were able to check the times on the website that Moda pats my arm and said "Holy shit, Mikey...1:53:02?!?"

14 minutes better than my last PR at the Boom.

40 minutes faster than my first half in 2010 at the Mpls Marathon.

I barely registered this b/c I was too busy laughing at the banana-suited guy trying to get his medal over the top of his costume which was about 2 feet higher than his actual head.

So yes. I'm really pleased. This was a big-frassy accomplishment for me that I can honestly say one year ago I'd have never completed. (Moreover, I've a better understanding of how proud Moda was last year during the same race when she PR'd with her best at sub-two. It's a great feeling. Until you can barely find yourself standing upright waiting for your mylar cape.)

Good job, Team Awesome!

Pictured: Proud Monster Dashers, racing and running friends, trail and course Ipod lip-synchers/air-guitarists, and on the far right...naked clowns.