Thursday, August 31, 2006


Okay, look, I have nothing tonight. Not one thing, I am out of jokes, my head hurts, I am really full from my cheeseburger. And I am only writing something on here because I am trying to do a posting every day for a month. Trying to train myself to sit down and write everyday.

Today my thoughts were revolving around my fantasy soccer team. I would love to devote an entire blog to just fantasy soccer, and it might happen next year or maybe later this year, but one thing at a time. So there is this team in London called West Ham United. Super club, they somehow manage to create superstars. Today they trumped every superstar team in the English Premier League. They managed to somehow get two players who are going to be quite possibly two of the best in the world at the age of 22. Here is the rub, in the US sports frame, they would be the current Celtics in Basketball, the Jaguars in Football and the Minnesota Twins of Baseball.

This is just a team that manages to succeed on a shoestring budget and alway pull something out of the hat. They are amazing to watch, as an organization. The fantasy ramifications of this are spectacular as well, because by all accounts, these two guys could be studs, the could also step foot and the pitch and spontaneously combust like a drummer from Spinal Tap. Who knows.

Sorry for the lame post, but this is more about getting in the habit of doing it than trying to amuse the four of you that read this thing. Incidentally if you are a reader can you please leave a comment if you think about it. You can even say, "FUCK YOU". I don't mind.


Wednesday, August 30, 2006


I have said that I am going to try and post something everyday. I am absolutely completely bushed, I can't think of one thing that is humorous, or coy or anything.

I had to give a presentation to a bunch of people today (about 50) and it was really taxing. My mind is cooked. My mother has this theory about what she calls a psychic vampire. These are people that through no fault or attempt on their part some how manage to suck your will to think or function like a human being. I was surrounded by them today.

I had come up with a basic script and agenda for what I wanted to talk about. The presentation (if you will) was divided up into 3 parts each about 15 minutes long with a 30 minute Q&A. I got finished with my portion in 20 minutes all in and these people knew that once the Q&A was over that we were going to let them all go. So what happened? These people asked about 7,000 questions. Some of them were asked three times. And if they didn't get the answer they wanted, they would ask it again, but with a different verb modifier.

Q1. Is it okay to lean against the rail if we are tired?
A1. No, leaning against the rail is not tolerated, it makes you lazy.
Q2. Is it okay to lean against the rail if we are very tired?
A1. Oh, well let me think, if you are very tired I suppose it is okay.

I had a point where I was reminded of this scene in "A FEW GOOD MEN" where Demi Moore objects to a line a questioning and when she is overruled, says, "YOUR HONOR! I STRENUOUSLY OBJECT." About five minutes later in the movie Tom Cruise really rips into her for being a bit daft. Anyway. I was really nervous about the presentation but it went fine (psychic vampires and all).

Since I am so sacked I will tell you another joke, since I have been hearing so many of them recently
This guy walks into a bar sits down at the bar and says to the bartender, "Bartender I need 5 shots of Jagermeister."

The Bartender pours the shots and sets them up on the bar. Where the guy proceeds to slam them all down, one after the other with barely any room to breath.

The Bartender says to the guy, "Hey, buddy, you are drinking those pretty fast what are you celebrating?"

To which the guy responds through the clinched teeth that only Jagr gives, "First blowjob."

The Bartender says, "Hey congratulations. Let me buy you one more."

The guy shakes his head and says, "No thanks, if 5 shots of Jagermeister won't get the taste out of my mouth... nothing will."

The good news is I just fucked your wife.

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

You're deceptive...

I was sitting on my couch reading Waiting for Godot by Samuel Beckett and feeling really sympathetic to the plights of Gogo and Didi when it hit me why I was feeling so sympathetic. They are slaves to something that they can't possibly comprehend or understand. Vladimer, who is the principal character, spends two act of the play waiting for someone called Godot, but here is the rub, he doesn't know why he waiting. He has a strong belief that once the meet him "all their problems will be solved," but he doesn't know him. I have been feeling like a bit of slave today, slave to friends, slave to work, slave to this blog that I have started and kept up for something like twelve days. But as I was lying on my couch, it is a loveseat really, and lamenting my lack of contact lens solution I head a funny song.

It is called "I'd Rather Dance With You" by the Kings of Convenience a band from Norway. Now I love the song, it is on the short list of my favorite songs in the last ten years, catchy beat, good lyrics, interesting instrumentation all around a very competent recording. And it is the only song on that album that sounds like that. The rest of the album sounds to me like a gang bang between, Nick Drake, Simon and Garfunkel's Scarborough Fair, and every shitty coffee shop open mic night singer that brought in a 12 string and "poured their out to the audience." It sucks. Well okay it doesn't suck, but it isn't for me that is for sure. And it is a shame too, because the "I'd Rather Dance With You" is really a great track from start to finish. As I was lying there stewing in the failed albums of so many bands that have pulled the exact same bullshit stunt with me (thank you iTunes for the 30 second free sample) I was thinking about some of the other things in my life that I feel are deceptive.

Now I am going to back up and call out one of my very best friends on this, because the story the word deceptive comes from (in fact that whole thesis of this post) comes from something that happened to her. She is strikingly beautiful. She is a wonderful soul and a great friend one that will do anything for you and is always quick with a positive word when you feel like a jump off the Gurley Building. (Oh damn I just made a reference that no one else will ever understand)
The Gurley Building is an office in Stamford, Connecticut that has served many faithful businesses over its long and storied life. During the Stock Market Crash in 1929, when stockbrokers were legendarily jumping out of windows, there was a small financial hub developing in Stamford and there are stories about brokers who were jumping out of the windows of their offices. The Gurley Building however was only two or three stories tall and as a result they merely broke their legs in most cases. So taking a jump of the Gurley Building in a very specific region of the country is tantamount to a failed attempt at suicide. There you have it, you learned something new.

Anyway (now that we are finished with our little history lesson) the friend of mine is a real pal. But, she doesn't shave her armpits, personally I don't give a shit, it's her hair she can groom it as she wishes. So the story goes something like this: Striking beauty walks into a store, drug store maybe, and picks out her wares for purchase and while she is standing a young man walks up behind or beside her. At some point she reaches up to scratch her ear, or eye or change a light bulb, I really don't know a lot of the particulars. But this dips hit who was standing in line near her apparently took some offense at the armpit hair and came up to her, without introduction mind you, and said, "You know what? You're deceptive." We were wondering how he knew about her job as a double agent for the CIA but in the end we determined that he must have meant the armpits. Whatever the guy was a douche.

So I was thinking about the other places recently that have "revealed their armpits to me" lately and I am calling them out.

1. Trinity Brew House, Providence, RI -- The outside is spectacular, the inside is charming, the food is completely and utterly average, the service is downright abysmal and the prices are... well they are fucking ludicrous, there is no nice way to say it. The damnable misery of it is that this place has the potential to be one of the most awesome places in the entire city and it just sits there and wallows in its mediocrity. Fucking shame really.

2. Julian’s, Providence, RI -- Another restaurant that is just not good enough for the hype that it generates. I know a lot of people that really like it, and I have to admit that I have been impressed with their moments of brilliance, they had a really great risotto dish that had some Greek olives in it, and their sweet potato fries are really good. The service is pretty good, and some of them are these little hipster girls that are totally adorable (if you like hipsters, which I do, but only in small doses). But here is the kicker. Good fucking luck trying to get a hot (let alone good) cup of coffee there. Every time I go in the coffee is old, cold and the worst cup of coffee in the Providence metro area.

3. The Providence Journal, Providence, RI -- Here is my beef with the Projo, the paper by and large is really good, the writers are all diligent and responsible and do a really good job delivering the local news well. But the sports page is a joke. If you want to know what the Red Sox are doing in December this is your paper. All of the Boston teams are very well covered. And the local high schools get their share of coverage as well, but there is zero coverage of any of the college teams except maybe the PC, URI basketball team and the Brown hockey team. There are something like 14 rugby teams in the Providence area, one of them went to the national competition, and there was no mention of it despite the editor of the sports page being emailed, personally, about 5 times. Really poor showing, and a principal reason I would never subscribe to the paper. The deceptiveness come with them advertising themselves as a local newspaper, but something like 65% of their stories in all sections are AP, and oh yeah, their movie reviewer, he sucks too.

4. Newbury Comics, Providence Place Mall -- Not a comic to be had, anywhere in the store. Not a single, comic. Normally that wouldn't be deceptive, but then their name isn't "Newbury Everything but Comics."

5. Apsara, Providence, RI -- Just so that it isn't all negative, Apsara is an Asian restaurant and they charge you $6.00 for a wheelbarrow of food. It is strange to be able to feed 6 people on $18.

6. Little Compton, RI -- The whole town is this gorgeous little haven away from the city, close to the ocean, proof that city folk are sometimes missing out.


7. Tim Horton's, Providence, RI -- Somehow these guys have managed to brew the best straight up cup of coffee in Providence. It is spectacular every single time. Thanks for making my walks to work a little better.

So there they are, some of them are deceptively and decidedly negative, some of them are really quite complementary.

I feel like I should end with a joke, I heard a couple good ones the other day; I will leave them with you over the next couple of days.

This guy takes his wife to the hospital because she isn't feeling well. After all the tests are done the Doctor pulls the husband aside and says, "I don't know how to say this but there was a mix-up in the lab and we might have switched your wife's file with another patients. We are pretty sure we have everything right, but we lost a critical piece of the blood work as well, because our intern accidentally spilled coffee on the report. But... we can definitely tell you that your wife either has Alzheimer’s disease or H.I.V."

The husband, obviously and righteously upset says, "Well how am I supposed know which it is?"

The doctor replies, "We thought of that. When you go home drive a way you have never gone before and drop her off on the side of the road. If she finds her way home, don't fuck her."


Monday, August 28, 2006

There are two kinds of people...

There are two kinds of people in the world... How many times have you heard that phrase? I have heard it a lot lately. I have a friend who has a theory that you are either a "Savage" Steve Holland person or a John Hughes person.

Another has said:

"...there are two types of people in the world: Those who are delighted and amused when a complete stranger hands them a butt plug, and those who just stare back in slack-jawed horror."

So I am going to compile a list of the two types of people in the world that I have come across (if you don't fit into one of these categories, that means you are an alien or a replicant or a replicant of an alien).

There are two types of people in the world...
1.) ... People that like the Beach Boys and people that like Elvis.
2.) ... People that like XTC and people that like Adam Ant.
3.) ... People that like Velvet Underground and people that like The Clash
4.) ... People that like EMO and people that like Hardcore
5.) ... People that like hardcore and people that like music
6.) ... People that like Genesis (before Peter Gabriel left, Prog Rock if you will) and people that like Genesis (after Peter Gabriel left, pure pop rock)
7.) ... People that like Reggae and people that don't like to smoke pot.
8.) ... People that like [insert currently trendy jam band] and people that have jobs and are productive members of society and have already graduated from college.

Okay it is starting to get ugly let's change the subject:

1.) ... People that like John Hughes and people that like Savage Steve Holland
2.) ... People that like Tom Hanks when he was funny and people that like Forrest Gump
3.) ... People that think that Jude Law is a great actor and we all got the joke and people that think Sean Penn is an asshole for other reasons entirely.
4.) ... People that like Broken Lizard and people that like National Lampoon's.
5.) ... People that like Snakes on a Plane and people that have no sense of humor or pulse.
6.) ... People that like movies and people that like films.
7.) ... People that like James Spader and people that really like that guy that was in "The Secretary" (you know when he rubbed one out on that girls back!).


1.) ... people that have tried a "Donkey punch" and people that don't have to make up insane stories so people will like them.
2.) ... people that masturbate and people that are corpses.
3.) ... people that like doggy style sex and virgins.
4.) ... people that watch porno and people that live porno.
5.) ... people that like to get tied up and chicken shits.
6.) ... people that like have food sex and people that don't like the cleanup.

Speaking of food...

1.) ... people that like Murimoto and people that like Sakai
2.) ... people that like Crunchy and people that like Creamy
3.) ... people that like strawberries and people that like blueberries
4.) ... people that like waffles and people that like pancakes
5.) ... people that like Lima Beans and people that have taste buds.
6.) ... people that like Ruth's Cris Steakhouse and people that like Morton's
7.) ... people that like Popeye's and people that like KFC
8.) (and this is a relatively new one that is only applicable to eating at a mall) ... people that like Bourbon Chicken for the "Tasty Wok" and people that like Bourbon Chicken from the "Ragin Cajin" (PEOPLE IT IS THE SAME FREAKING BOURBON CHICKEN)
9.) ... people that like Cheerios and people that like Frosted Flakes

Here are some miscellaneous ones:

1.) ... people that use Duracell and people that use Energizer (personally I am a Duracell man, I always had a thing for red heads though)
2.) ... people that go to a gym and people that are married
3.) ... people that went to high school and loved every minute of it and people that went on to become success in life. (Ouch, did I use my outside voice for that one?)
4.) ... people that read Fantasy novels and people that go on dates with people of the same or opposite sex.
5.) ... people that played D&D at some point in their life and people that didn't spend a lot of time in lockers or getting beat up. (total side note on this one. There is a book out about the history and mythology of Dungeons and Dragons and do you know who wrote the intro to the book? I shit you not -- VIN DIESEL! I just gained about nine hundred respect points for him. I will give him a +2 modifier for Charisma. That should increase the likeability of his next shitty movie.)

So here is a little homework assignment for the readers out there. Collect as many bits about the "Two types of people" and I will start to post them at the top of my blog every day.

Which brings me to my last one:

There are two types of people in the world. People that do their home work and hand it in on time, and people that lie about having a grandmother that is deceased and try to get out of handing in the damn thing on time. Which one are you (personally I ran out of grandmothers.)

Sunday, August 27, 2006

You want a piece of Bruschetta? Oh, baby talk dirty, say gouda...

I was out to lunch this afternoon with a dear friend of mine, although she will attest otherwise (as you will see shortly), at a local pizzeria here in Providence. We were sitting down and over the bar was a solitary TV (or eye raper if you prefer). I love food, (see my previous comment about endomorphism) I like how it is prepared and how it is presented there isn't much I don't like about food, except anchiovies on pizza, capers and lima beans (of which I can make an entire post). Back to the point. The point is that the Food Channel was on and I was positively transfixed by the woman making the food, not because she was beautiful, but because she was "whipping something to together" that looked delicious and professional. So I made the off-handed comment to Liz, my friend, that Food Channel is like porn to me. And she said, "I know!" So instantly I am thinking, "Ah. A brother (or sister; screw it comrade) in arms, someone who understands a zest for life through the culinary arts.

Not So.

Here, without further ado is what she meant, in her words (at my request), completely unedited.

To regular readers of this blog: I am not its writer, but I have met him once or twice. Indeed, I ate lunch with him the other day (calamari to start, followed by pizza, washed down with diet coke---but I digress). Like all restaurants today, this one featured the rapist of my eyeballs—yes, television. I suppose I was asking for it, what with wearing a dress and having a vagina, especially on a Sunday. TV aficionados may think I am too outré, but there is a point. My metaphors are meant to suggest the topic of this diatribe—the similarity of the tv programming (cooking shows) to pornography.

Readers of Harper’s may think that this topic is a rerun, and they may be right, except that they aren’t. There was an article a while back comparing the way that cooking show hosts talk about food to the way that porn stars talk about sex (Ooh, that’s good….BAM!). My thesis is different. While I do not dispute the existence of similar acting styles in these media, I noticed another, more subtle similarity. Both cooking shows and porn simplify an intricate process so that it seems to occur over the course of a half hour or so.

In porn, person meets person, they proceed to fucking, and leave satisfied. In real life, it is not always as easy to meet someone to fuck as it is to open the front door. Once one meets a potential partner, it may take time to build up the nerve to broach the subject of sex. Even if one’s nerve is already up and throbbing and ready to go, the partner must be willing to stimulate the nerve in order to release the neurotransmitters. And once the juice is spilled, one may leave feeling full of sweet satisfaction or just wet and sticky and frustrated.

In cooking shows, a chef comes up with an idea for a meal, say summer fiesta, in seconds and prepares the meal in minutes. In real life, I could not make gazpacho in 10 minutes; you couldn’t even pick out the produce in 10 minutes. And if I made a pitcher of mojitos first, then who needs gazpacho anyway.

My boyfriend pointed out that such simplification is the nature of the beast called la tele by the natives of Guadalajara. He may be right, except that he’s not. If tv were really simple, then the people on that island who saw the crazy French bitch come out of that bunker thing would have just said “hey, what’s down there?” instead of taking weeks of my life to gather a posse, explore the hole, flashback to crazy shit with needles….

Wow. I love it. I really love how perfect it is too. You see when I watch Food Channel I am watching it to see something that I really can't do on my own. I have a dish or two that I can "whip together" provided I have a full day to do it. But by-and-large if I have 15 minutes to throw something together, I am heating up a Hillshire Farm Bratwurst (if you are a vegan or vegetarian, maybe you prefer the Better-than-thou Brat that Boca makes). The point is that even being married, which I am, sex is never as easy as it looks in porn. Those people are professionals and there should be a disclaimer Eval Knieval style (although in my own attempts it would be more like Jackass) that states, "Ladies and Gentlemen, these men and women are trained professionals. They are performing these feats under the supervision of many other trained professionals, and under NO circumstances should you quit your job and get a job as a [insert job here, whether it is cable repairman, delivery driver, college professor]." Also as a note, going home to your special lady (or man) friend and "whipping it out" and saying "hey bitch, suck it." Not as successful as illustrated in pornography.

The parallel in food is that, I very rarely have fresh, ripe avocados just laying around my house to toss into a guacamole in short order. Most of the time the supermarket stocks horribly under-ripe avocados and I have to let them sit on a shelf and get ripe. But also, I don't typically have the following, coriander (or cilantro, they are the same), fresh basil or any other herb for that matter, ripe tomatoes, fresh fish... shit I could go on forever, let me tell you what I do have in my house almost without fail. Ginger Ale, Skippy Creamy Peanut Butter, a cracker of some sort, usually at least one can of New England Clam Chowder (Manhattan Clam Chowder is disgusting, you might not think so, but you are wrong) usually a ketchup style of condiment, a half gallon of iffy milk and some left over take out.


Saturday, August 26, 2006

No Timmy, its because of Science...

So today, also known as my wife's birthday, was spent at the Boston Museum of Science in -- well it is in Boston. There was a discussion on the recent "Pluto Fiasco", which I am still entirely uncomfortable with. Later in the day some kids were running around with signs that said "Give Pluto a Chance" they were all wearing the same yellow shirts that indicated they were on a robot-soccer team. The robots play soccer, not the kids. Anyway as they were running around the museum I couldn't help but think of "Never Been Kissed" . There was this scene in the movie were the theme for the prom is set up as couples in history or famous couples something like that. Anyway Leelee Sobieski's character is dressed up with the other "nerds" as DNA it was really cute and one of my favorite parts of the movie. But that isn't the rest of the story.

[Total side note before I get started. I love the little bit of HTML that I know, so if the links and bold and italics get obnoxious, I apologize, soon the novelty will wear off and I will revert back to the plain text, shortest distance between two points, person that I am; but, for the the time being you will have to suck it up.]

The rest of the story is that science museums are really fun, and if you haven't been in a while, I highly recommend them. But. And this an epoch but. You really only need to go to them about every 10 years. I went to a science museum in Toronto when I was somewhere between 7 and 9 and they haven't changed much. Which is really sad when you think about all of the wonderful advances in science over the last twenty years (and yes that is about the time period we are talking about). I am not a scientist, I like science, enjoy knowing about it and I even have one or two fields of science where I would say that I know more than the average person. But the Boston Museum of Science didn't really seem to live up to the potential I had set aside for it. You see Boston is the home of some pretty ridiculously prestigious colleges, MIT and Harvard to name the two that are closest to the museum. There didn't seem to be a whole lot in there for parents, though. There were a lot of really refreshing exhibits that, I hope, sparked a scientific interest in young children with the hands-on aspects of them. But the planetarium was a real let down, there have been some really impressive advances in what we know about the universe and our neighboorhood of galaxies. We are finding binary sun systems, more suns like ours with planet (or dwarf planet) systems, we are finding more information about star factories and more things about what makes the universe tick. And none of this was represented in the exhibits. It was the same tired shit that they were teaching me in eighth, ninth and tenth grade and that is just sad. I was also sort of shuffling around between a lot of the exhibits pretty quickly and there were a lot of those little creatures (the ones that make the really high-pitched nearly human sounds; oh yeah, kids) around I didn't want to get in the way of their learning -- their parents were doing a plenty good job of it with out my help. Anyway I am not saying don't go, I am just saying that if you are, go with low expectations, otherwise you might leave hungry.

Which, consequently, I did and I paid for it dearly. After the museum we all (my wife, my in-laws, her grandfather and I) went to an Indian restaurant in Belmont. The food was out of this world and I ate way, way, way too much. I have the tendency lately to order vegetarian at Indian restaurants because I don't really care for chicken and I don't trust anything else, and I didn't deter from that plan tonight. I ordered Shahi Paneer which is farmer's cheese in a tomato ginger curry sauce. It was spectacular. But here is the rub and where I am paying for it. I also ate a little bit off of everyone else's dishes, so I had some tandoor Shrimp, Chicken tikka, Malai kafta, and Lamb Korma. When I got to the point where a rational human stops, leans back, wipes his mouth and says, "Ahhh, that was delicious, I am going to stop so I have room for desert." I opted for this internal monologue.

"Well you are going to be full in about 3 minutes, really full in about 5. There are only three pieces of the paneer left and Rob doesn't have too much of the lamb left. It would be a real pain in the ass to get a box for this stuff, you better just power through it."

Which I did. And I am paying for it. Because I also had desert and masala tee. I spent the ride home from Boston stretched across the back of a Toyota Prius (which totally off topic has the quietest engine I have ever not really heard it is really amazing) with my head in my wife's lap. Now I am going to go to bed and dream horrible dreams, while my colon gets ready to kick the shit out of me tomorrow.

Sweet Dreams!

Friday, August 25, 2006

Spare a brother a dime...

Walking home from work I had a funny experience that I feel like I should relate...

I walk home from work with my headphones on, trying to block out the din of the day and the rush hour traffic that surrounds me. While I was walking a man approached me saying something, I had my headphones in so I didn't hear what he said. I am usually pretty good about not making eye contact with people so that I don't feel like I have to stop, but I wasn't wearing my sunglasses and the guy definitely made eye contact with me so I pulled out my headphones. Here is a one act play of the exchange (comments in brackets are editorial and designed to give you, the reader, some information that would help you see the humor).

V. - A man walking home
Dude - A man interrupting a pleasant walk home

Act one, scene one
A city street during rush hour, people are hustling and bustling back and forth a man wearing a t-shirt, backpack and headphones is walking briskly, is name is V. Another man wearing a fishnet tank-top, too-short athletic shorts and tube socks with red and blue mismatched bands walks up to him mouthing something, his name is Dude. Music being heard is The Yeah Yeah Yeah Song (with all your power by the Flaming Lips

V. pulls the headphones out of ears. Music fades. Dude is starting to speak louder as the headphones are being removed
Dude - ....dollar man?
V. - (attempting to be polite, but annoyed) I am sorry what was that, I had my headphones in.
Dude - (scratching his chest and looking over V.'s shoulder) Come on man, can you help me and my girl friend out, a dollar or two, man?
V. - I am sorry, I don't have anything on me.
Dude - (walking past V. but still looking at him) Come on man not even a buck, fifty cents, anything?
V. - (reaching down to pat his pockets) Sorry man, I really don't have a thing on me.
Dude - Really? Not even a quarter?
V. - No, I am sorry.
Dude - (arrogantly) Shit, nigger. I got fifty cents, I guess that means I am richer than you are?
(Dude turns around waving off V. and walks away, The Yeah Yeah Yeah Song (with all your power by the Flaming Lips becomes louder as V. reinserts his headphones and walks away.)
Scene ends

This is almost exactly how it happened, folks. I wish I was making it up. But I am not.

So that was how my day ended.


Thursday, August 24, 2006

You want a dwarf planet? You should see the dwarf planet I gave your MOM! (wait, what did I just say?)

I was reading my friends bit on Pluto's demotion from planet to dwarf planet (Shprintz-o-rama's article about Pluto) and I remember being sad when I read this this afternoon.

See I knew Clyde Tombaugh, the man who discovered Pluto, and he was this sweet old man (when I knew him). He helped me write a report about the planet over a phone interview. I knew his granddaughter from church. This is the astronomical equivalent of putting a star next to somebody's achievement in my book. Think Roger Maris's home run record.

Here is why:

There are nine planets... errr... were nine planets. There are -- to quote Carl Sagan -- billions and billions of other heavenly bodies. A planet is something special. It is a neighbor in our section of the galaxy; someplace that we can reach in a reasonable amount of time, astronomically speaking of course. The science behind what constitutes a planet now has changed a little bit and we are, through increasing technology, realizing that even our little stretch of the block has more going on than maybe even we realized. I have heard buzz about the other objects, Xena, Charon and Ceres for about 7 to 10 years in some cases but they are numbers, and most people don't know what the numbers mean. Now I know that to most people Pluto is still going to be Pluto and won't be turned into something as ludicrous as 1930 UB300, but it still won't be a planet.

I am not trying to stir up a shit pot here and I am all for science changing to fit technology but at some point isn't there a little sanity involved? It is no wonder most of the people in the world don't give a shit about science. The difference between a planet and a dwarf planet is apparently 90km and about 1,000 tons. It just seems a little trivial and this is one of those situations where astronomers had the opportunity to make a vote on something that isn't that important and then turned around and shit all over it. Because you know what, in elementary school, when you learn the planets that is the only time it sticks. If you take astronomy in college (which I did) you can be pretty much certain that the kids are either trying to fill a science requirement or they heard that if you can get a chick to the observatory and say one smart thing about what you are looking at it increases your chances of getting some (maybe it is a little from column a and a little from column b).

Weirdest damn thing I have ever seen at 8:30 in the morning

I was walking to work this morning. And outside of one of the down town complexes there was a group of 17 people standing around in a circle and talking... loudly. I didn't make much of it, thought it was maybe a tour of a building, possibly the prelude to a hostile takeover, maybe a strike, I didn't know and I wasn't really that interested. So I popped into a coffee shop, got my large coffee with room and popped back out side.


The 17 people weren't standing in a circle anymore, they were lined up in military file, they were standing with their feet shoulder width apart their left arm behind their back and their right arm put up in exaltation. They were reciting a pledge, or maybe a blood oath, of some kind. Then they all moved into an attention stance. AND THEN... THEY STARTED DOING JUMPING JACKS!

Now let me describe for you the people that were out there and you will understand why this was so funny to me.

During the jumping jack there were five rows of three people. The first two rows of people were young, full of energy, good-looking, and really into the team-building drill. The second two rows of people were a little older and some of them maybe hadn't done a jumping jack since the first group was born. The third group, the slackers of the group were all pretty disorganized, some of them were in pretty loose file, some of them weren't really doing the exercises with all their heart, mumbling their way through the blood oath (whatever it was) not standing at attention, the were mostly just giving a pretty half assed attempt at the whole thing. Except this one guy, wearing a blue short-sleeved shirt and tie, he was giving a no-assed attempt. He was doing my favorite style of jumping jack -- and if there are any slackers that are reading this, they will know exactly what I am talking about -- the one where you stand, STAND in one spot and move your arms up and down, in a jumping jack motion. Right there in the middle of everyone.

It made me think two things, one he wasn't selling it. If you are going to do that style of J.J. you have to sell it with your arms, not flail them back and forth like you are a malformed emperor penguin trying desperately to fly. Two, he wasn't fooling anyone, know I thought I was pretty slick back when I was kid and did this at soccer practice, but if I looked that bad doing it man am I ashamed.

So that is how my day started and we will see how it ends, who knows, this might be a two-post day.

Wednesday, August 23, 2006

Day 3 and still going strong... I am a veritable Energizer bunny

I filled out this survey on myspace and I had to write down what the first movie I ever saw was.

Here is the startling admission: Breakin. With a guy named Bryan Getz.

I remember a great deal about the first couple of movies that I saw as a kid. I remember the line that was wrapped around the outside of the Cinema 4 (back when a movie 4 plex was overkill) for Batman. I remember the taste of all the shitty popcorn that was freshly popped and it kind of makes me sad.

I like movie theater popcorn, nay, love it; And the stuff they serve up at the Loew's/National Amuesment/Showcase/Regal is shit. It is very sad that you just can't get fresh popped popcorn at the cinemas these days. Anyway.

I went and saw Little Miss Sunshine -- highly recommend it -- and there was an ad for a movie called "Infamous" which is about Truman Capote and the book "In Cold Blood". But I was watching the ad and I couldn't help but think that I had just seen this movie, that it had been nominated for a boat loads of awards and that the star had just been nominated (and won) and Academy Award. And then I started to get a little mad. Mad that Hollywood would recycle a movie that had just ended three months ago and repackage it and sell it back to me for another $9.00. How gullible do they think I am? (That is a rhetorical question.) I would love to make a list for McSweeneys of movies that came out within 12 months of each other that are the same the darn movie.

List: What is Hollywood thinking?
1. Edtv and the Truman show
2. Volcano and Dante's Peak
3. Under Siege and Passenger 57 (you can throw in a bunch of other movies into this, what I call the, "DIE HARD ON A ____" category)

There are three off the top of my head and in no particular order. It is sad that we have these high priced movie guys and tons of great scripts and movie circulating around the business that are looking for distributing partners and just can't get a look.

Here are a few movies that I saw at my local art house cinema
1. Brick
2. Everything is Illuminated
3. Nightwatch

All of these were very good movies, good story, serviceable acting, interesting effects where applicable. The point is that these movies had art house style distributers taking a bit of a chance on them. Because I feel like Hollywood thinks that we, as consumers, are stupid and can't appreciate a good movie. I mean how many times have we rehashed the story line for Taming of the Shrew? Cutting Edge, 10 Things I Hate About You (which to its credit was an honest to god retelling of the story), there was a Nick Nolte movie about a gymnast that I am not going to even bother looking up, and Step Up to name a few.

The thing that Hollywood seems really interested in is the tie in stuff. Video games, action figures, soundtracks, albums inspired by the movie.

I hate to rant, but I have been sitting here thinking of the innocense of my youth... hahaha Breakin and Breakin 2: Electric Bugaloo... now I am rambling.


Tuesday, August 22, 2006

So Far so Good

Up to day two here and still hanging tough. This might be a new record. If I make it to day 30 I am going to get a fancy redesign and ask my buddy Ad to help me out, apparently after doing this kind of stuff for 8 years is kind of good at it -- huh... who knew.

So I went to staples tonight. Here is something else about me: I hated school, not disliked mind you, hated school. I went to high school because the guvment and my parents said I had to and because I was 17 when I graduated and the way I saw it I was stuck. I didn't really like college all that much, the school stuff always got in the way of my socializing, carousing, drinking and otherwise no-goodnickness. But I went because ultimately I wanted a job and this leads me to an:


I love school and office supplies. Walking into Staples is like pornography for me. I love the pens, the smell of the paper stock, the electronics, I spent about ten minutes looking at -- and being fascinated by -- engineering paper. You see engineering paper is different from regular paper. It is margined on one side. No lines, just the margins top, bottom, right, left all one inch off the edge. And it is GRIDED on the other side. (At this point let me acknowledge that this sounds strange.) GRIDED I SAY and for the price of $6.00 you too can walk around with fancy engineers paper. Now I know you are probably thinking, "But, pray-tell, what would little ole I do with engineer's paper?" My answer is, "Who cares?" I also don't know what to do with a Rolloplanner but you know what, I almost bought one of those as well.

The point is that somewhere trapped in this body (and while we are on the body types I will tell you I am an Endomorph, so there is a fair amount of body) is a scholar, or a writer or maybe an engineer, dying to get out and scream, "Chart. Graph. Venn Diagram. Beat that team as fast as you can." (I wonder if a team of cheerleaders that also studied math would think that is demeaning, or funny?)

Anyway I am sort of rambling at this point. I think in an English 101 class I took in Anderson Hall they called it "Stream of Consciousness." So back to the matter at hand: Staples = porn.

Wait a minute... Suddenly my infatuation for Ms. McClusky in eighth grade is starting to make a lot more sense.


Monday, August 21, 2006

Third time is a charm.

As the title of this post indicates, this is my third attempt at a blog. I have tried another one on blogspot and one on myspace. They have all ended disastrously. I think I tried to create a topic and tried to stay on topic. But the long and short is that there is nobody that should ever want to listen to me ramble about my misgivings or opinions on squibble-dee-doo because frankly... who gives a toot. So in this my third attempt at a blog I am setting up three guidelines for myself.

1.) Write something everyday, even if it is just to say, "Nothing funny happened today, but nothing horrible happened either"

2.) Remember that nobody really gives a shit about my views on "important political issues".

3.) Be light-hearted, both in my humor but also in my views.

Since three is the theme, if you will of this post, I am going to tell you three things about me.

1.) I am tall
2.) My favorite movie of all time is "John Carpenter's Big Trouble in Little China." One day (maybe tomorrow) I will dedicate an entire post to this subject.
3.) I will argue with anybody about just about anything except for Abortion, gay marriage, and whether the Red Sox or the Yankees are the better team.
3a.) Here is why:
Abortion -- whether I am pro-choice or pro-life, no amount of facts, figures, indoctrination or common sense is going to change your mind.

Gay Marriage -- I am for it, and have yet to find one person who can argue why as a group of people we shouldn't allow two people, who love each other, the same right afforded to a man and a woman that feel the exact same way. One time this woman was to the point of screaming at me about the "sanctity of marriage" and actually told me that she thought it was unfair to a traditional married couple (read man and woman) because they would get a discount on their car insurance and soon we would have college roommates getting married for a discount on car insurance. Personally I think she missed the point on the argument in its entirety. Also she had been divorced three times. So I am certain she missed maybe even her own point. But enough about that. I am convinced we won't change each other's mind so let's not even try.

Red Sox v. Yankees -- if you are from New York you probably prefer the Yanks; if you are from Boston you probably prefer the Red Sox; nobody else gives a shit. Seriously I have run into more people that could not care less about the NY/Beantown rivalry. And with the way that baseball players have become mercenaries in the last ten years you can pretty much insure that the team that won you a World Series will be scattered to the ends of the Earth three seasons later (seriously what it is with 3 tonight?), and frankly I am not a committed enough fan of baseball to have the inclination to follow it.

So that is it, three things about me, on my third attempt at a blog.