Welcome To My Nightmare
Even though I have a birthday coming up rather soon (& I'm having a little bit of trouble grasping the fact that I'm going to be mid-30somethingish), I don't feel like I'm really getting 'older'. Though my body has been starting a revolution against me in response to years of mass pizza, cheeseburger & hot sauce consumption, my mind still feels young. All in all, I feel pretty good.
Or I did until this past weekend.
VH1 was playing a marathon of the documentary 'Heavy: The Story of Metal', which I subjected T to many an hour of viewing (she's such a trooper!). It was fun walking down Memory Lane, seeing all the bands that I loved in my teen years.
That is, until they started showing them now.
Most of them looked like they'd been beaten with an ugly stick before. Now they looked like they'd fallen out of the ugly tree itself & hit every single branch on the way down to the floor of the Ugly Forest. I guess years of hard livin' will do that to a person, but sheesh! The most depressing part was when they showed what I thought at first was archive footage of a Twisted Sister concert. It was when they showed the drummer from behind, arms a'flailin' behind his kit, & then panned around to the side that I realized, to my unmitigated horror, that the clip was of a more recent vintage, for, upon swinging the camera around to the right side of the drummer, we were given a glimpse of his enormous gut!
Not a slam against TS (goodness knows I wouldn't want Dee Snider banging on my front door), but Spandex is flattering on a select few bodies. 40+ year old drummers with an unfortunate case of beer gut are not among those elite few.
A memory flashed through my mind after that of some people I knew while growing up. They were children of the 60's. Not hippies or flower children, mind you, but they had grown up during that era. I remembered that every time I rode somewhere with them, they always had the radio tuned to an oldies station. I swore up & down that I'd never be like that, holding on to the remains of "the good old days" & becoming a pop culture dinosaur. I was not going to feel dated by the music I listened to because metal ruuuuuled!
Yeah, well, the best laid plans, etc...
I look back on the groups & people that I listened to (& still do on occasion) & feel...old. Three quarters of the original Ramones are dead - & only one was due to drugs! Eddie Van Halen's had hip surgery - before Barry frickin' Manilow! Axl Rose looks like someone put their foot on the back of his head, grabbed his ears & pulled really hard. David Lee Roth's got a cul-de-sac goin' on! Sammy Hagar's the only one who still seems to be having any fun (though he still puts out some crappy songs - c'mon, Sammy; does every song have to reference Mexico?). But he's 50something years old. If he weren't a world famous musician, he'd just be that weird guy who lives down the street who wears Hawaiian shirts & black socks pulled up to his calves with Birkenstocks, trying to talk to kids using their own slang, who always smells like he crawled out of a vat of Pabst Blue Ribbon.
You know who I'm talking about.
One of the most depressing interviews was with Bruce Dickinson of Iron Maiden, who was modelling the latest in the 'Crocodile Hunter' line from Banana Republic, complete with an Aussie-style hat. It made me want to cry. I didn't expect (nor would I want) him to be wearing studded leather & swinging a broadsword around. But...Bruce Dickinson! Iron Maiden! Many a metalhead screamed themself raw trying to sing along with 'Run To the Hills', attempting in vain to match the note that Dickinson hits at the end of the song!
And here he was, looking like a guest host on 'Brian Fellow's Safari Planet'.
That's crazy!
So now, as I look through my old tapes, albums & CD's, thumbing through Cinderella & Kix & Van Halen & Priest & all the rest, I think back to "the good old days," with its screaming guitar solos, hammer-ons, screaching vocals & mindless lyrics about vikings, girls, cars, girls & Icarus. I smile, remembering my youth. I might even try an air guitar riff or seeing if I can sing along with 'Screaming For Vengeance'.
Then I find The Boy looking & laughing at the old guy listening to his oldies.
And I promptly ground him.
Laugh at the old folks, will he? He's got another thing comin'!
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
2-Ply Quilted Vengeance
Yet another story from my childhood. Enjoy!
Waaaay back when I was in 7th grade, my best friend lived in a fairly rural part of Riverside County. Unfortunately, so did a bunch of girls from our class. Now, one might think that having cute girls living nearby would be a plus in the eyes of two adolescent boys. One would be wrong, for these girls were of the annoying, pesky variety. And when annoying, pesky girls get together, trouble cannot be far behind. This was proven to be true when my friend came to school one day & told me that his parents had been TP'd by this same group of annoying, pesky girls. And, boy, did they do a number on his house.
The next time I stayed at his house, his parents charged us with the task of reaping vengeance against one of the offenders houses. Yes, we were actually encouraged to vandalize someone's home. A dream come true, yes?
Well, yes & no.
We were given black hooded sweatshirts to blend in with the night & armed with many rolls of quilted comeuppance. Knowing that the honor of the family was on the line, we hopped the back fence with a sense of pride, avenging my friend's father & the humiliation that had been wrought upon his castle &, probably more importantly, his new Mustang.
Our target was about a quarter mile away up one of the many hilly streets in the area. Excitement & adrenaline made our hearts pound with anticipation (or maybe it was just, in my case, my heart ready to explode from having ran up the hill to the girls house). We each pulled out a 2-ply, 400 sheet count grenade & cocked our arms back, ready to rain down angel soft retaliation on the offender's home.
We got exactly one roll tossed halfway into a tree when we noticed headlights making their way up the street. Panicking, we rounded up the toilet paper & hid next to a dividing wall, on the neighbor's side, which was, to our benefit, covered with iceplant.
Then things started turning against us. For you see, the headlights belonged not to the girl's parent's car, nor even to someone further up the street. No, the car that the headlights were eminating from belonged to their neighbor - the one whose iceplant we were cowering in. They pulled in to their driveway & opened the garagedoor, which flooded the previously dark yard in bright light. In addition to lighting up the whole area, the opening of the garage also released their dog.
Their big dog.
My friend & I froze, daring not even to breathe, for fear that the dog would smell the fear on our breath. To make things even worse, the people started to remove groceries from the car - outside the garage instead of pulling in. And they must've not been shopping for months, as it took what seemed like forever for them to unload the car. Many, many times we thougt the dog noticed us & were ready to run as far & as fast as we could before a) our hearts shot out of our chests or b) the dog took us down & ate us.
Just when I was sure the the pounding of my heart was going to alert the dog to our presence, the people pulled the car into to garage, called in Fido & closed the door. We stayed in the iceplant until the outside light went off & we were certain that the dog & the people, probably armed with a 12-guage, weren't coming back out. Finally summoning up the courage, we quietly climbed out back over the wall, readied another volley of flower printed vidictiveness. It was at this time that we heard a door open & someone pop out, calling for their cat.
That was it. The mission was aborted & we ran back to base, tails between our legs, having failed to restore the honor of my friend's family name.
As we were running, another car passed us going the opposite way. We stopped long enough to see the car park in front of the girl's house & her parents get out to inspect the whole one roll of toilet paper strung halfway up the tree.
Yeah. We showed 'em.
Morning Conversation
Her: I had the weirdest dream last night with you in it.
Me: Really? What about? Was I fighting aliens with a big gun?
Her: Um, no. I was being punished.
Me: Uh, OK...great. What were you being punished for?
Her: I'd gotten my third citation for speeding & had to wear some kind of piece of metal in my mouth.
Me: For speeding? It must've been a dream. I mean, I could see you getting a third citation for driving too slow, but...
Me: Rubbing my arm after being slugged three times
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
The Coolest Kid On The Block
Growing up, I was the oldest kid on the block. And one of the biggest. I was also an incredibly slow runner, which the smaller kids exploited by mouthing off to me while just out of arm's reach. What they never caught on to was that I was also one of the most patient kids with the longest memory for betrayal & would wait until they forgot about their treasonous act of defiance & would then pummel them into submission. It was an effective brand of street justice that worked quite well in my favor.
One thing that was also pretty well known was the fact that I couldn't ride a skateboard if my life depended on it (unfortunately, The Boy seems to have inherited this quality from me). But, as bad & uncoordinated as I was on a board, I was a master of the bike. I'd race anything & anyone. I'd take corners so hard that I'd nearly lay the bike down, just to zip past an opponent. I was the master of two wheels.
My friends, however, were all skaters. I don't know if it was economics or that they just preferred four wheels to two, but few of my friends rode (or even owned) bikes. This worked to their benefit, though, as they always had me around to give them a boost when jumping a ramp.
One day, my friends had constructed a crude launch ramp made of a cinderblock, a very thin piece of plywood & the curb. Having had their fill of being towed & sent flying off the ramp, they challenged me to try jumping on my bike. I was only too happy to oblige.
I was a very stupid child.
The street we were on sloped downward just enough to add some speed to my approach. I took aim & hit the ramp, probably doing a good 20+ miles an hour when I made contact. To my surprise, the ramp did not snap in two, as I had feared. In fact, the whole set-up held together beautifully. There was a slight flaw in the planning of the jump, though. You see, my friends on their boards hit the ramp at about two to five MPH, went about three feet in the air & landed about five feet from the base of the ramp. I, on the other hand, hit the ramp at the aforementioned 20+ MPH & launched about five feet in the air - right into the branches of a mulberry tree. This, unfortunately, was not the worst part of my jump. No, that would be when, as everything moved in slow motion, I heard one of my friends say "Heee's gonna hiiiit the waaaaall!!!"
Yes, just past the tree was a block wall.
As I made my way, waist-deep, through the branches, I spent what seemed like an eternity trying to figure out what to do when I hit the ground. Do I try to bail? Do I try to turn as soon as I make contact with the earth? No. What I opted to do was to hang on for dear life.
My tires hit the ground, leaving 1 1/2 inch deep impressions in the dirt. I somehow managed to land with both tires hitting around the same time & squeezed my brakes for all they were worth (I had a free-wheel dirtbike). When I did that, the front wheel caught somehow & twisted, catching my shirt with the handlebars. This caused me to endo toward the wall. I closed my eyes, waiting for the excruciating combining of the molecules of my face to become one with the wall.
When I opened my eyes, the tip of my nose was about a quarter inch from the wall.
That jump was spoken of in reverent tones for years to come, thus cementing my status as the Coolest Kid on the Block.
Monday, August 21, 2006
Pimp My Bedding
Friday night, T & I were out shopping & stopped at the local Ross to see what was there. For those of you who don't know, Ross is one of those stores that sells things that other stores won't sell, like shirts with irregular sizing or poor quality stitching or shoes that are megahideous looking or CD's full of 80's dance hits sung by "The Stars of Studio 99" (I'm not kidding; the things are so cheap that they can't even acquire the rights to the original B-side singles from such illustrous stars of the 80's as Men Without Hats or Sigue Sigue Sputnik). They also carry a plethora of hot sauces of suspicious origin (yes, I did buy some). Basically, it's the clothing & crap store equivalent of the Island of Misfit Toys from the Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer Christmas show (poor Charlie-in-the-Box). I'm not saying that you can't find a few treasures there, but it's very much a 'buyer beware' kinda place.
We wandered around, as we are wont to do there, & ended up in the bed & bath section. T has for some time now wanted to get a new bedding set for our room & had found a few contenders amongst the various bright pink & leopard print sets there. She found one that was sort of a goldish-greenish looking color along with some new curtains & some accent pillows (which she decided she didn't want). I pointed out a lighter colored one & even one that was more of a quilt than a comforter. Being a good husband, though (& having absolutely no style sense whatsoever), I was ready to relent & let her get the one she liked. Her, being a good wife (& despite knowing that I have absolutely no style sense whatsoever), picked out the lighter colored one that I liked.
The next day, we put the comforter on the bed & found out why we found this at Ross: while the packaging said that it was a queen-sized comforter, the actual product was made more for a full-sized bed. So, we stuffed it back into its packaging, with the intention of taking it back the following day & getting T's choice.
Sunday came & we took the ill-fitting comforter back. T found the one that she wanted & also decided to get the accent pillows that she didn't want to get on Friday night. I dropped her off at home & went off to run a couple errands.
About an hour later, I came home. I expected to either find T in the room, arranging the new curtains & deciding way the pillows looked best on the bed, or to find the whole deal sitting by the door, ready to be returned to the store.
Much to my surprise, there it was, sitting by the door.
When I asked T what was wrong with it, she told me that when she put it on the bed, the first thing that ran through her head was wakka-chika, wakka-chika, as the material, in huge quantities, had a very shimmery, shiny, 70's vintage p0rn quality to it. She said she even tried walking out of the room & coming back in, but again, all she heard was wakka-chika, wakka-chika. I dubbed it the 'pimp comforter'. The curtains had the same shiny look to them, as well. Apparently, we'd bought the Hugh Hefner Collection bedroom set (velvet smoking jacket sold separately).
So, for the second time in about five hours, we trapsed back up to Ross to return the pimp comforter & its pimpin' accessories. T made took one last fruitless look at the bed & bath section, hoping that the right set would appear.
Alas, we left Ross emptyhanded.
wakka-chika, wakka-chika
MiniReview: Snakes On A Plane
Snakes on a Plane is quite possibly the best movie ever to tackle the subject of snakes on a plane.
Without giving too much away, the movie is basically about snakes. On a plane. Really!
OK, OK...seriously, the movie delivered. Even with all of the internet hype surrounding the movie, I wasn't disappointed in the least. I went in expecting not some deep, thought provoking essay on the struggle between man, serpent & the mastery of the skies, but instead, an entertaining, cheesy movie. And really, isn't that all we really want from a movie? If I want to relive the horror of 9/11, all I have to do is close my eyes & remember. I don't need Nicholas Cage there to tell me the story. If I want to watch an old TV show, I'll catch it on TV Land or Nick At Night. I don't need someones 'reimagining' of what was, in the case of most shows, a silly or threadbare premise to begin with. All I wanted was to see Samuel L. Jackson be his own bad self & shoot some snakes. Oh, yeah, & to hear him utter the line.
Mission accomplished!
Now, mind you, this probably won't be making its way into my DVD collection. While it was a fun movie, it's not (for me at least) something that I'd watch over & over again. It was one of the 'event' movies of the summer, nothing more. I'd go see it again in the theatre maybe once, but then that'd be it. While I expected profanity (it's Samuel L. Jackson, c'mon), the carpet F-bombing in the movie gets a little old after awhile (hey, Hollywood - is there a chance we could retire that word for awhile? It's kind of lost its sting). The violence was pretty gruesome (although I suspect not nearly as bad as, say, Saw or Hostel or others of their ilk) & if you have a phobia about snakes, well, why on earth would you want to see this in the first place? If you didn't have one before seeing the movie, though, you might afterward.
The premise of the story is OK. The whole snake element requires not just a suspension of disbelief, but a complete expulsion of it, as the actions of the titular reptiles are so completely over the top. Sometimes that was a bit of a distraction. More than a few times, I found myself thinking "That's not right" or "That wouldn't work that way," only to end up reminding myself that, oh yeah, this was a movie about snakes on a plane, & promptly shutting off the logic center of my brain. The movie never treated the audience like they were idiots, though. Even with the most unbelievable situation happening on the screen before me, I never felt like the makers of the movie were saying "The audience is too stupid to know that this or that isn't possible." It felt more like they wanted us in on the whole absurdity of it all. Like they were telling us an incredibly ridiculous story & then saying "Wasn't that so cool?!".
So, for all of the critics out there complaining about the movie being overhyped & disappointing, all I can say is quit taking things so seriously. For once, a movie comes out that is totally without pomposity. It doesn't take itself seriously. It doesn't insult your intelligence by attempting to be something that it's not.
My advice, for those of you planning on seeing it, is to let the goofiness of the movie simply wash over you. Don't try to overthink it. Don't think much about it at all.
And you'll probably want to keep your feet off the floor, too.
3.5 Flicking Forked Tongues out of 5
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
The One Where He Reviews Movies That Everyone's Already Seen
So far this summer, I've caught four movies, which is actually quite the feat for me. Usually, I'm content with just waiting for the movie to come out on DVD. This year, though, there were a few that I really wanted to see on the big screen.
First up, X3. Now, due to my purist leanings, I wasn't a big fan of the first X-Men movie. It wasn't a bad movie, per se, but, why go & mess with an already established franchise? Why change everything around? There's more than enough material to make movies for the next several hundred years. When X2 came around, I tried to watch it without my purist bent &, much to my surprise, it was a pretty good movie (my favorite of the series thus far). So, I walked into X3 with the same attitude that I had for the previous movie, which served me well yet again.
A big complaint that I read about in the reviews for the movie was that it was heavy on the action & light on the story. Well, duh! It's a movie about friggin' super-powered humans! If I want plot & substance, I'll go watch PBS. The movie delivers on the action & fighting, perfect for killing a couple hours in the Palm Springs heat.
If you haven't seen it yet & get the chance to (it still might be playing in a few theatres), be sure to stay after the credits.
Next up, Superman Returns. Oh. My. Word. An awesome, awesome, awesome movie! I don't know why all of the entertainment rags are saying it was a disappointment. So it didn't rack up stellar numbers at the box office. Big deal! It was a perfect return to the silver screen for the Man of Steel. This was what Superman III should've been.
The characters were spot on, not really trying to mimic the original cast, but rather continuing one where Reeve & Co. left off in Superman II. Brandon Routh looked & sounded very eerily like Christoper Reeve, but I don't think it was intentional. I think both actors played Clark Kent/Superman the way he was supposed to be played: mild mannered; humble; an all-around good guy. The fact that they look & sound a lot like each other is just a bonus (& let me tell you, I'm so glad Nicholas Cage didn't get the part). Kevin Spacey played Lex Luthor with just enough of the humor from Gene Hackman's portrayal without a) copying Hackman & b) making Luthor a complete buffoon. Plus, he made him scary evil. Not 'scary evil' in a Freddie/Jason way. 'Scary evil' in almost a Hannibal Lechter way (without the liver & fava beans tilt): calm (mostly), calculating & willing to drown most of the planet for a little prime real estate.
The story was excellent. I found myself really feeling bad for Supes, coming back to a planet (& one person in particular) that had largely moved on without him. I was never a big fan of Superman in my comic collecting days, but this flick had me gobbling up all things Superman for a few days after. The special effects (with one exception - watch the boats on the river near the end of the movie) were great, with my favorite being the detail of the physics of trying to stop a plane from crashing.
I'm pretty sure that there will be a sequel. I hope that it's every bit as fun (if not moreso) as this one was.
A couple of weeks after Superman, we saw Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest. Yet another one where I don't understand why there's been so many disparaging reviews of the movie (Entertainment Weekly blasted it with a D+ - in the same issue that prominently displayed the cast & featured a story about the movie inside). I'd heard people gripe that the movie was just a set-up for the final movie.
Well, duh! I've got four words for you, Scooter - The Empire Strikes Back. I mean, the first movie (much like Star Wars, I believe) was meant to be a stand alone movie. Disney didn't know if it'd be any good (after the fiascos that were Country Bears & Haunted Mansion, I could understand their apprehension). Then, it took off & the sequels were given the greenlight & then written. So, of course the second movie's going to be a build-up to the third.
Another complaint (& a valid one) is that this installment was much darker. Again, I point to Empire. That's the way a story arcing over three movies is supposed to work. When the trilogy, or series period, is just a series of stories (like the Raiders trilogy or, more recently, the Spider-Man & X-Men movies), they're all separate, individual entries in the canon, connected by history, references to the previous flick & returning characters. Sometimes, like in the Raiders series, they don't even go in sequential order (Temple of Doom, the second in the series, is actually a prequel to the first movie & Last Crusade is the actual sequel, chronologically - kind of a more condensed Star Wars history).
Anyway, back to the movie at hand. Yes, Pirates was darker & yes, it builds up to the third movie. It still was very entertaining. Johnny Depp continues to impress me with the range of the characters he plays. From the wide-eyed innocence of Edward Scissorhands to the legend-in-his-own-mind cocky swagger of Captain Jack Sparrow, it's never felt like I'm watching 'Johnny Depp' playing a person; it's always felt like every person is different, unlike watching Tom Cruise or Jack Nicholson. Orlando Bloom, on the other hand, while not bad, just kind of seems to play the same note as in other films I've seen him in. Perhaps it's because most of the things I've seen him in involve swords & action scenes. I dunno. T liked him though, so, mission accomplished, I guess. Then there's Kiera Knightly - *sigh*.
Uh, sorry. I was daydreaming a bit there. Where was I? Um, yes, well, my only complaint was that the sound was kind of muddy (which may be due to the sound system in the theatre) & I kept finding myself reaching for the remote to turn on the subtitles. All in all, though, the movie was great & I'm looking forward to the next movie.
So take that, naysayers.
And finally, there's Monster House. (Hey, when you have a kid, you make these kind of sacrifices for them) When I first saw the previews for this, I wasn't really too impressed. Visually, it was quite appealing, but, then, so was Robots. And we all know what I thought about that one. (What? You don't know what I thought of it? Click here then.) The trailers showed a few amusing bits, but I didn't think it'd do much beyond that.
Boy, was I wrong!
Not only are the visuals stunning, the story (for those of you living under a rock, it's basically about a people-eating house) was very engaging (even though I did figure out part of the story early on) & it's just plain fun. There were a few parts that didn't make sense, but I won't go into those for fear of spoiling the movie. The kids sound like kids, in their speech & cadence, not like adults trying to sound like kids.
In some ways, the movie reminded me of The Nightmare Before Christmas, & I really think that it could've benefited from a pre-Halloween release, personally. I think, much like Nightmare, it could become a great addition to the movies that I love to watch around that time of year. I eagerly await its release on DVD.
So, there you have it. My two cents about a few of the flicks to grace the silver screen this past long, hot summer.
Monday, August 14, 2006
Were Went The Weekend?
Wow, for a weekend as packed as this past one was, it sure went by quick.
It was kicked off on Friday with a rousing game of bunko with a few other couples from church. While we did have a lot of fun, I had to wonder who it was who sat & thought up all of the intricate rules &, especially, thought up the name. Bunko? For a game played with dice? Um, OK...
Anyway, we met a few more people from church & a good time was had by all, particularly the sitter for the kids. Being the first time that we'd ever employed a sitter, we overpaid her by quite a bit. I don't think we'll have any trouble recruiting her for her services again.
Saturday was started off (by T, at least) with a trip to a local second hand store where she came back with not only a gob of nice clothes, but also found what turned out to be a fairly valuable dish from around 1911. Score!
Later, we met up with my mom & headed to a (somewhat) new resturant down in SB called BJ's Brewhouse. Maybe it was due to the fact that since we've started this diet...er, 'lifestyle change' my cheeseburger intake has dropped dramatically, but I had one of the best sourdough cheeseburgers that I've had in a loooong time: cheddar cheese, smoked bacon, cooked (or, as some would say, undercooked) to my specifications - mmm-mmmm! The prices were comparable to Apple Bee's. The noise was a little much at first & then toned down as the crowd thinned out. Monitors are mounted all over the place with different sports channels playing. And, for those who inbibe, they have a long list of different house brews. We will definitely be hitting BJ's again.
Sunday rolled around (again, much faster than I had hoped/wanted), starting off with church & then off to Anaheim later to go to the Harvest Crusade 2006. This year's acts (for Sunday, at least) were MercyMe & Newsboys. Both seriously rocked! While I really like MercyMe, I didn't realize just how many of their songs I'd heard on the radio. I'll most certainly be hunting their discs down. The Newsboys have been around forever. When I first started listening to Christian rock, I wasn't too big of a fan of theirs. Too (to paraphrase T) Euro-poppy for my taste. Over the past few years, though, they've grown on me. They put on a great show. A lot of energy & audience participation. The lead singer, Peter Furler, looks a bit scary at times. He's quite intense, with his bald head, black lined eyes & strained looking singing style, so much so that I thought a few times that his carotid was going to burst from his neck.
Exploding arteries aside, it was a great show, followed by a good sermon from Pastor Greg Laurie (I've heard other messages from him & he tends to focus a bit on the End Times. While it's a good thing to teach about from time to time, to get people to think, I don't think scaring people into a relationship with Christ is always the best approach. Then again, neither is burying one's head in the sand when the subject is broached, so...) &, as is done every year, an altar call for people to accept Christ. It's an awesome sight to see three or four thousand people gather in the outfield of Angel's Stadium to make that commitment. If you ever have the chance to go I highly recommend attending. (In addition to the one in Anaheim, they conduct several others in across the States & in other countries.) A great time is to be had!
And now it's back to the grind. *sigh*
Monday, August 07, 2006
Happy B-Day, Beautiful!
Since it's been awhile since I've written anything (no, really?), I figured what better way to end the drought than by wishing my beautiful, beloved wife a happy birthday? So, here it is.
Happy birthday, Beautiful!
One more year along on our journey to growing old together...
I love you with all of my heart.
Finally!!!
No, not me finally posting. Instead it looks like one of my wildest dreams has finally come true: German scientist testing an "anti-stupidity" pill.
No, not me finally posting. Instead it looks like one of my wildest dreams has finally come true: German scientist testing an "anti-stupidity" pill.
Monday, June 19, 2006
Abominable
AKA 'When Wookiees Attack'
So rarely is the title of a movie so dead on accurate. 'Abominable' hits the bullseye. I didn't think it was possible to have worse acting than 'SS Doomtrooper', but this movie managed to plumb even lower depths than the latter could ever dream of. The film looks like it was made by someone who had a Wookiee suit from 'Star Wars', a collection of scripts from previous horror/monster flicks, $37.42 for the budget & a membership at a Thousand Trails campground.
The basic jist of the movie is that a killer Wook...er 'yeti' (not 'sasquatch') is attacking & eating people in a remote mountain retreat (is there any other kind?). Apparently, yetis are more violent than sasquatch. Also, there's already been a movie called 'Sasquatch' & it would've been kinda hard to get Nessie up into the mountains, so I guess the monster had to be a yeti. How a yeti, a creature said to be found in the Himalayas, ended up in the forests of North America, well you got me there.
You ask how I would know that a yeti is more aggressive than a sasquatch? Well, this is kindly exposited by none other than Lance Henriksen, who is summarily eaten a little bit later. I'm guessing that a lot of the $37.50 budget (& probably a free weekend pass to stay at the campsite) went to paying for such a big name actor.
Our hero, Preston Rogers, a parapalegic, is at the retreat for some R&R, accompanied by his nurse/assistant/resident creep Otis (based on his creepiness & his enormous 70's pornstar 'stache, I figured he'd exit the movie in a particularly gruesome manner while perpetrating some bit of nastiness on the heroine of the flick - I was half right & genuinely surprised). Preston lost the use of his lower extremities after a fall six months ago from Suicide Rock (gee, that took a lot of thought to name - good job, scriptmonkey!) that also resulted in the death of his wife. He seems to have adapted pretty well to paralysis/widowerhood after only six months. Honestly, Matt McCoy, the actor playing Preston, doesn't look like he's climbed anything more than a barstool at the wrap party for this flick, but, not being much of a climber myself, what do I know? Anyway, in what looks to be a rip-off...uh, homage to 'Rear Window', Preston watches the goings on outside via a pair of magic binoculars. 'Magic' in that wherever the binoculars are pointed, the user can also hear what's going on. It's truly amazing to see him look through his closed window & through the closed window of the cabin that's a good fifty feet away & hear everything that's being said in the cabin. I so want a pair of those.
Anyway, Peepin' Preston sees the titular menace lurking about & tries to contact the local sheriff's office via email (?), telling them that there's a monster outside, apparently known to locals as the 'Flatwoods Monster'. The dead-by-the-end-of-the-movie sheriff (oops, hope I didn't blow anything for you) thinks it's a hoax & refuses to send anyone out to investigate, despite the protests of the designated good hearted deputy/eventual yeti chewtoy (hope I didn't spoil that one for you, either). They reply to Preston, telling him that they don't respond to pranks & to quit sending them messages (that's some police department they have there). The sheriff does relent & tell the good hearted deputy that when the phone lines are back up, they'll call out & make sure everything's alright. This despite the fact that the place is, as noted in the movie, only twenty-five minutes away. I may have missed it, but I think, judging by the fact that the sheriff recognizes Preston's name, that there's some history between the two.
In the cabin across the lot, a group of college-aged girls (obligatory shower girl [OSG], designated drunk/coward [DDC], non-descript red shirt [NDRS] & our heroine [Amanda (Haley Joel) - she's the only one whose name I caught] are freaking out after one of their comrades (designated initial yetichow) goes missing. Through both Preston's magic binoculars & the amazing yeticam (let me just say that I don't think they spent much of the extravagant budget on that effect; if we are to believe the movie, yetis have very poor nightvision, which results in tunnelvision), we can see that the yeti is about to take another one of the ladies out for dinner, if you know what I mean. Preston starts flashing the lights off in his cabin to distract the monster, causing the ladies to briefly forget about their missing friend & note that Preston has been watching them from his window. Thoroughly skeeved out at that, they return to their quarters.
Before going back in, though, they all remember that, 'oh yeah, our friend's missing' & OSG & DDC start arguing about whether to go trapsing around in the forest at night looking for their missing chum or to just stay in the safety of the cabin. DDC is gunning for staying in the cabin, which makes sense, but, because she's the designated coward of the flick, it just makes her look, well, cowardly. In keeping with her designation as the resident drunk, she's always seen walking around with a margarita glass in her hand. In addition to affirming her DDC credentials, this prop also gives the scriptmonkey a reason for OSG to get nekkid & fullfill the obligatory shower scene, as DDC flings her drink on OSG, dousing her in crushed ice & rum. This, & DDC later going in to the living room & cranking up the radio, also shows us the true power of the magic binoculars, as we hear every word of the exchage between the women & the crappy rap being pumped through what was obviously the boombox from the director's room in the basement of his mother's house.
Preston watches as OSG takes it all off in preparation for her obligatory shower scene. He then sees the yeti just outside the bathroom window. Preston calls Otis over to see the monster &, of course, Otis instead watches OSG, solidifying his creepiness standing. He hands the magic binoculars back to Preston & walks off, just in time for the monster to grab a mannequin of OSG & pull her through the balsawood & cellophane bathroom window, folding her in half (backwards!) along the way. DDC, NDRS & Amanda start banging on the bathroom door for some reason (this is a horror movie - they obviously wouldn't have heard the monster roaring, OSG screaming or the breaking of balsawood & the ripping of cellophane). DDC walks outside to look into the bathroom & discovers the remodeling job that the yeti did.
Preston starts yelling for Otis & babbling about the monster, prompting Otis to ready a hypodermic with a sedative. Being a brilliant strategist, Otis places the uncapped syringe in his breast pocket. Soon a scuffle ensues & Preston manages to get the needle from Otis' pocket & drives it into his neck, dropping Otis in like five seconds. (Good thing the scriptmonkey thought to have Otis take the cap off or Preston would be snoozing instead). Preston returns to the window just in time to have the yeti give us one of the many lame jumper scenes that fill this movie, looking in the window, face to face with Preston (why didn't it reach through the wall & pull Preston out? Because he's the hero of course! He has certain immunities, donchaknow!). Making this scene even more laughable is the fact that the yeti looks like a cross between Chewbacca & Marty Feldman. It's really hard to be frightened by something when you're too busy laughing at it. Anyway, he flies backward & topples his wheelchair, knocking himself out.
Preston wakes up some time later (a clock shows it to be about 445a, but as I didn't know what time it was when he was knocked out, I have no idea how long he was out). He makes his way back to the window in time to see the monster prowling around outside. He tries screaming to them (which, for some reason doesn't draw the attention of the yeti), but the girls can't hear him because the music's still cranked. For some reason (I missed the first few minutes of the flick, so it may have been explained there; while it would be keeping in the tradition of crappy movies to neglect such details, it would still be pretty lame if it wasn't explained) he has an email address for one of them & pings them, saying to turn the music down so that they can hear (it's later explained that while the land lines are down, the internet connection is supplied via satellite). Amanda pokes her head out & he asks if she can call out on her cell. Naturally, she can't get a signal.
Then, when we *yawn* least expect it, ths monster barges into the house. Amanda bolts back into the cabin & all of the girls look for places to hide. NDRS, being outta luck in the hiding department, stands on the floor directly above the yeti. Preston tries to tell her not to move, but alas, it's for naught. The yeti reaches through the floor, pulls NDRS through & takes a big chomp out of her neck. Exit NDRS.
Amanda seeks safety behind the sofa while the yeti looks around the room for her (they can tell where someone's standing above them through a floor, but can't smell someone in the same room? Add poor sense of smell to the list of yeti shortcomings.). She manages to get by him unnoticed & then DDC enters the room & screams. Gee, with friends like these... Things get a little fuzzy here (it was a long weekend & I'd already burned out my suspension of disbelief abilities the previous night watching Pinata: Survival Island). I think Amanda manages to get into a closet while DDC runs outside to their Jeep. Of course, she doesn't have the keys with her. The yeti starts shaking the car back & forth & DDC gets out, trying to run away. Not suprisingly, the monster is soon on top of her. DDC then sprays something...I don't know, perfume; hairspray; DEET...in the yeti's face. This, of course, only serves to aggravate the monster, who responds to her aerosol assault by stepping on her midsection, causing her to squirt like a raspberry jelly-filled doughnut. Exit DDC.
Amanda sneaks out & Preston signals for her to run over to his place. Understandibly freaked, she asks Preston why the monster is attacking them. He replies that animals only attack for two reasons (uh, only two? I can think of a few more): they're hungry or they're territory is being threatened, &, in an attempt by the scriptmonkey at 'wit', he adds "Obviously, it's not hungry." Yeah, you'd think after chowing down on her four friends, he'd probably be full. He also makes the mistake of thinking that they're smarter than the monster.
With Otis still laying on the floor with a hypodermic sticking out of his neck, the two start setting a trap at the front door. I'm taking it that the cabins are part of some sort of timeshare or something, as Preston still has all of his climbing equipment stashed in the linen closet. And a big friggin' axe (I kept expecting him to pull out a fire extinguisher & a flaregun - he would've been unstoppable with those). He tells Amanda to email the police again, but not to mention the word 'monster' this time. She instead tells them that a psycho killer is attacking them. Just as she's about to his send, the power goes out. She freaks & asks what happened. Preston notes that the beastie must've cut the power, admitting that it must be smarter than they thought (& an electrician, to boot). Isn't it amazing how, be it a monster or some backwoods tribe that has barely mastered fire & has no idea what electricity even is, always know how to cut the power?
Anyway, Preston rigs up his climbing gear for both he & Amanda to use to escape the cabin (it's built on stilts or on a slope or something & they have to repel off the patio). He lowers himself down to the ground first. Amanda then hooks herself up & starts her way on down. Much to no one's surprise, the yeti breaks into the house. It makes its way to the railing & starts pulling Amanda back up. I don't know how the climbing rigging worked exactly, but for some reason, Preston is unable to pull her back down & Amanda is unable to release the her harness from the rope. The yeti grabs ahold of Amanda & just when we think that, gee, she might be eaten, Otis shows up with the big friggin' axe.
Honest & for true, this did surprise me. Given what an obvious bottomfeeder he was portrayed as at the beginning, I assumed that he'd meet his ultimately gruesome fate while trying to force himself on Amanda or something to that affect. I'll give the movie credit for this as it's one of the only genuine attempts at trying something other than the norm when it comes to monster movies.
OK, so Otis buries the big friggin' axe in the back of the Wookiee suit, I mean, the back of the yeti. For all of his efforts, he's repaid by having the whole front of his head bitten off. Now, I did not know this, because Lance Henriksen never mentioned this, but yetis can evidently unhinge their lower jaw, as Otis' head was far to big to fit in the gaping maw of the yeti otherwise. Basically, the monster stuck its mandible into Otis' mouth, its maxilla over the top of his head & bit down like it was an apple. While OSG's boobs & butt were blurred out, what's left of Otis's head is lovingly shown in close-up, all while he convulses on the floor. Thank you, FCC, for protecting me from the evils of the showering nekkid female body, but for allowing network TV to provide me with a detailed examination of what happens when monsters eat peoples heads. I am truly in your debt.
Once Otis introduces the big friggin' axe to the back of the yeti, it lets go of the rope holding Amanda, letting her drop about twenty feet to to ground. Now, either she swung out enough so as not to fall on top of Preston or he moved, because she was right over him before she was yanked back up. She should've fallen smack down on top of Preston. Having survived the fall & probably having the wind knocked out of her, Amanda now has to drag Preston over to his car. They make it into the car & ratchet up the *snore* tension when they can't find the keys, only to have Preston remember that they're up in the visor. Whew. That was close, boy howdy. To no ones surprise, the monster, big friggin' axe still firmly embedded in its back, lifts up the back of the car as the dup try to drive off. The yeti then drops the car, which then careens into a tree, sending Amanda through the windshield. Preston, slightly shaken, sees the creature coming to chew on Amanda. He pops the car into reverse, floors the gas pedal with his hand & plows the car into the yeti, pinning it against a tree. When the yeti hits the tree, the big friggin' axe is pushed all the way through the front of its chest (did you know yetis squirt? Neither did I). Preston jams the pedal down with his shoe & drags himself over to the prone & bloodied Amanda. (In another nice touch, you can see McCoy move his legs a little as he drags himself from the car) He makes his way to her &, surprise!, she's not dead. This despite her having gone through the windshield face-first.
Now, I don't know how many of you have seen a windshield after someones head has been slammed into it. For those of you that haven't had the pleasure, let me give you a little info on what happens. The glass in a windshield is designed to keep people from flying through it & being ripped to shreds. It's made to break into little pieces &, for the most part, stay in one, shattered piece. (The windshield in the car that I rolled was laying on the ground like a big glass blanket. The few pieces that I did get hit by were from the side window, which is not made to stay together when it's broken.) For a body to be sent flying through safety glass, one - they'd have to be going mighty fast & hit an object mighty hard, & two - they probably wouldn't survive the trip. If the glass doesn't rip you to ribbons, the impact would probably break your neck.
Needless to say, Amanda not only survived the impact & she also only has a gash across her forehead & copious amounts of stage blood covering her face. And she's conscious & able to drag Preston some more. To my absolute, complete unamazement, the police finally show up, just in the nick o' time. We cut to the two protagonists being loaded into a couple of ambulances. It's here where we find out that Amanda is related to the X-Man Wolverine, as the gash that earlier went from the middle of her hairline down to around her ear is now a neat little two inch cut & all of the blood has been entirely wiped clear of her face. Wow, that's some job you did there, Mr. Continuity Manager! Kudos to you, sir!
The police, which include the sheriff, the good hearted deputy, an odious comic relief deputy from earlier & a non-descript red shirt deputy, go looking for the bodies that Preston said were literally littering the campsite. None are found, of course. The fuzz find Preston's car, still backed up against the tree, but, BUM, BUM, BUUUUM!!!, the yeti is nowhere to be found. Thanks again, scriptmonkey, for that original twist. Just how many bananas did you earn for writing this? Geez...
So, the police gather 'round, noting that nothing has been found, which prompts the sheriff to say that there probably was never anything to begin with yadda, yadda, when they hear a noise in the brush & turn to see...a bunch of red CGI eyes looking back at them. Exit the police department.
And, fade to black...
Thank you, Lord!
(Credit where credit's due - I was again genuinely surprised to see that the good hearted deputy apparently became yetichow along with the putz of a sheriff. So that's two - two! - twists in the entire movie. Two times that the scriptmonkey dared deviate from the formula. His trainer must've walked away for a second & he slipped it into the script.)
So, what'd you really think?
Well, it seems SciFi has done it again. Yet another in a long line of really crappy movies, although this is the first one in a long time that didn't star John Rhyes-Davies or Casper Van Dien, so I guess it shows that the network is branching out & offering other starving actors some jobs. Either that or Rhyes-Davies & Van Dien are busy making sequels to other such DTV crapfests as Chupacabra or SS Doomtrooper.
This movie was so by the numbers that it was almost painful to watch. You knew what was going to happen, when it was going to happen & to whom it was going to happen. Given the caliber of movie that this is, it's not entirely surprising that there would be a certain amount of reliance on the old horror formulas, but, cripes, I felt like I'd seen this movie a half dozen other times, only with different antagonists & actors (in most cases). It's become a game for me to see how many future victims I can identify early on in a movie.
I read somewhere that it seems that the victims in horror/monster movies always seem to commit one or more of the seven deadly sins & that the psycho/cryptozooilogical beastie/rabid koala/killer azaelea are actually dishing out payback for their iniquities. As I watched this movie & Pinata the night before (I actually quit watching that one just before it was finished because a) it was almost 2a & b) it was about as predictable as this movie), I noticed that just about everyone who got munched on was either a coward, a drunk, was naked at one point (& not necessarily doing the wild thing) or was just plain mean (in Pinata there was one black man & woman that got et [even though I really didn't see that they'd committed any particular deadly sin], which seems to be part of the formula, as well). Is this actually how they write these things? Do they use this outline to flesh out the plot? Or is this just some logirithim used by some scriptwriting program?
Well, you got me.
Abominable - 2 Eyeballs out of 5
AKA 'When Wookiees Attack'
So rarely is the title of a movie so dead on accurate. 'Abominable' hits the bullseye. I didn't think it was possible to have worse acting than 'SS Doomtrooper', but this movie managed to plumb even lower depths than the latter could ever dream of. The film looks like it was made by someone who had a Wookiee suit from 'Star Wars', a collection of scripts from previous horror/monster flicks, $37.42 for the budget & a membership at a Thousand Trails campground.
The basic jist of the movie is that a killer Wook...er 'yeti' (not 'sasquatch') is attacking & eating people in a remote mountain retreat (is there any other kind?). Apparently, yetis are more violent than sasquatch. Also, there's already been a movie called 'Sasquatch' & it would've been kinda hard to get Nessie up into the mountains, so I guess the monster had to be a yeti. How a yeti, a creature said to be found in the Himalayas, ended up in the forests of North America, well you got me there.
You ask how I would know that a yeti is more aggressive than a sasquatch? Well, this is kindly exposited by none other than Lance Henriksen, who is summarily eaten a little bit later. I'm guessing that a lot of the $37.50 budget (& probably a free weekend pass to stay at the campsite) went to paying for such a big name actor.
Our hero, Preston Rogers, a parapalegic, is at the retreat for some R&R, accompanied by his nurse/assistant/resident creep Otis (based on his creepiness & his enormous 70's pornstar 'stache, I figured he'd exit the movie in a particularly gruesome manner while perpetrating some bit of nastiness on the heroine of the flick - I was half right & genuinely surprised). Preston lost the use of his lower extremities after a fall six months ago from Suicide Rock (gee, that took a lot of thought to name - good job, scriptmonkey!) that also resulted in the death of his wife. He seems to have adapted pretty well to paralysis/widowerhood after only six months. Honestly, Matt McCoy, the actor playing Preston, doesn't look like he's climbed anything more than a barstool at the wrap party for this flick, but, not being much of a climber myself, what do I know? Anyway, in what looks to be a rip-off...uh, homage to 'Rear Window', Preston watches the goings on outside via a pair of magic binoculars. 'Magic' in that wherever the binoculars are pointed, the user can also hear what's going on. It's truly amazing to see him look through his closed window & through the closed window of the cabin that's a good fifty feet away & hear everything that's being said in the cabin. I so want a pair of those.
Anyway, Peepin' Preston sees the titular menace lurking about & tries to contact the local sheriff's office via email (?), telling them that there's a monster outside, apparently known to locals as the 'Flatwoods Monster'. The dead-by-the-end-of-the-movie sheriff (oops, hope I didn't blow anything for you) thinks it's a hoax & refuses to send anyone out to investigate, despite the protests of the designated good hearted deputy/eventual yeti chewtoy (hope I didn't spoil that one for you, either). They reply to Preston, telling him that they don't respond to pranks & to quit sending them messages (that's some police department they have there). The sheriff does relent & tell the good hearted deputy that when the phone lines are back up, they'll call out & make sure everything's alright. This despite the fact that the place is, as noted in the movie, only twenty-five minutes away. I may have missed it, but I think, judging by the fact that the sheriff recognizes Preston's name, that there's some history between the two.
In the cabin across the lot, a group of college-aged girls (obligatory shower girl [OSG], designated drunk/coward [DDC], non-descript red shirt [NDRS] & our heroine [Amanda (Haley Joel) - she's the only one whose name I caught] are freaking out after one of their comrades (designated initial yetichow) goes missing. Through both Preston's magic binoculars & the amazing yeticam (let me just say that I don't think they spent much of the extravagant budget on that effect; if we are to believe the movie, yetis have very poor nightvision, which results in tunnelvision), we can see that the yeti is about to take another one of the ladies out for dinner, if you know what I mean. Preston starts flashing the lights off in his cabin to distract the monster, causing the ladies to briefly forget about their missing friend & note that Preston has been watching them from his window. Thoroughly skeeved out at that, they return to their quarters.
Before going back in, though, they all remember that, 'oh yeah, our friend's missing' & OSG & DDC start arguing about whether to go trapsing around in the forest at night looking for their missing chum or to just stay in the safety of the cabin. DDC is gunning for staying in the cabin, which makes sense, but, because she's the designated coward of the flick, it just makes her look, well, cowardly. In keeping with her designation as the resident drunk, she's always seen walking around with a margarita glass in her hand. In addition to affirming her DDC credentials, this prop also gives the scriptmonkey a reason for OSG to get nekkid & fullfill the obligatory shower scene, as DDC flings her drink on OSG, dousing her in crushed ice & rum. This, & DDC later going in to the living room & cranking up the radio, also shows us the true power of the magic binoculars, as we hear every word of the exchage between the women & the crappy rap being pumped through what was obviously the boombox from the director's room in the basement of his mother's house.
Preston watches as OSG takes it all off in preparation for her obligatory shower scene. He then sees the yeti just outside the bathroom window. Preston calls Otis over to see the monster &, of course, Otis instead watches OSG, solidifying his creepiness standing. He hands the magic binoculars back to Preston & walks off, just in time for the monster to grab a mannequin of OSG & pull her through the balsawood & cellophane bathroom window, folding her in half (backwards!) along the way. DDC, NDRS & Amanda start banging on the bathroom door for some reason (this is a horror movie - they obviously wouldn't have heard the monster roaring, OSG screaming or the breaking of balsawood & the ripping of cellophane). DDC walks outside to look into the bathroom & discovers the remodeling job that the yeti did.
Preston starts yelling for Otis & babbling about the monster, prompting Otis to ready a hypodermic with a sedative. Being a brilliant strategist, Otis places the uncapped syringe in his breast pocket. Soon a scuffle ensues & Preston manages to get the needle from Otis' pocket & drives it into his neck, dropping Otis in like five seconds. (Good thing the scriptmonkey thought to have Otis take the cap off or Preston would be snoozing instead). Preston returns to the window just in time to have the yeti give us one of the many lame jumper scenes that fill this movie, looking in the window, face to face with Preston (why didn't it reach through the wall & pull Preston out? Because he's the hero of course! He has certain immunities, donchaknow!). Making this scene even more laughable is the fact that the yeti looks like a cross between Chewbacca & Marty Feldman. It's really hard to be frightened by something when you're too busy laughing at it. Anyway, he flies backward & topples his wheelchair, knocking himself out.
Preston wakes up some time later (a clock shows it to be about 445a, but as I didn't know what time it was when he was knocked out, I have no idea how long he was out). He makes his way back to the window in time to see the monster prowling around outside. He tries screaming to them (which, for some reason doesn't draw the attention of the yeti), but the girls can't hear him because the music's still cranked. For some reason (I missed the first few minutes of the flick, so it may have been explained there; while it would be keeping in the tradition of crappy movies to neglect such details, it would still be pretty lame if it wasn't explained) he has an email address for one of them & pings them, saying to turn the music down so that they can hear (it's later explained that while the land lines are down, the internet connection is supplied via satellite). Amanda pokes her head out & he asks if she can call out on her cell. Naturally, she can't get a signal.
Then, when we *yawn* least expect it, ths monster barges into the house. Amanda bolts back into the cabin & all of the girls look for places to hide. NDRS, being outta luck in the hiding department, stands on the floor directly above the yeti. Preston tries to tell her not to move, but alas, it's for naught. The yeti reaches through the floor, pulls NDRS through & takes a big chomp out of her neck. Exit NDRS.
Amanda seeks safety behind the sofa while the yeti looks around the room for her (they can tell where someone's standing above them through a floor, but can't smell someone in the same room? Add poor sense of smell to the list of yeti shortcomings.). She manages to get by him unnoticed & then DDC enters the room & screams. Gee, with friends like these... Things get a little fuzzy here (it was a long weekend & I'd already burned out my suspension of disbelief abilities the previous night watching Pinata: Survival Island). I think Amanda manages to get into a closet while DDC runs outside to their Jeep. Of course, she doesn't have the keys with her. The yeti starts shaking the car back & forth & DDC gets out, trying to run away. Not suprisingly, the monster is soon on top of her. DDC then sprays something...I don't know, perfume; hairspray; DEET...in the yeti's face. This, of course, only serves to aggravate the monster, who responds to her aerosol assault by stepping on her midsection, causing her to squirt like a raspberry jelly-filled doughnut. Exit DDC.
Amanda sneaks out & Preston signals for her to run over to his place. Understandibly freaked, she asks Preston why the monster is attacking them. He replies that animals only attack for two reasons (uh, only two? I can think of a few more): they're hungry or they're territory is being threatened, &, in an attempt by the scriptmonkey at 'wit', he adds "Obviously, it's not hungry." Yeah, you'd think after chowing down on her four friends, he'd probably be full. He also makes the mistake of thinking that they're smarter than the monster.
With Otis still laying on the floor with a hypodermic sticking out of his neck, the two start setting a trap at the front door. I'm taking it that the cabins are part of some sort of timeshare or something, as Preston still has all of his climbing equipment stashed in the linen closet. And a big friggin' axe (I kept expecting him to pull out a fire extinguisher & a flaregun - he would've been unstoppable with those). He tells Amanda to email the police again, but not to mention the word 'monster' this time. She instead tells them that a psycho killer is attacking them. Just as she's about to his send, the power goes out. She freaks & asks what happened. Preston notes that the beastie must've cut the power, admitting that it must be smarter than they thought (& an electrician, to boot). Isn't it amazing how, be it a monster or some backwoods tribe that has barely mastered fire & has no idea what electricity even is, always know how to cut the power?
Anyway, Preston rigs up his climbing gear for both he & Amanda to use to escape the cabin (it's built on stilts or on a slope or something & they have to repel off the patio). He lowers himself down to the ground first. Amanda then hooks herself up & starts her way on down. Much to no one's surprise, the yeti breaks into the house. It makes its way to the railing & starts pulling Amanda back up. I don't know how the climbing rigging worked exactly, but for some reason, Preston is unable to pull her back down & Amanda is unable to release the her harness from the rope. The yeti grabs ahold of Amanda & just when we think that, gee, she might be eaten, Otis shows up with the big friggin' axe.
Honest & for true, this did surprise me. Given what an obvious bottomfeeder he was portrayed as at the beginning, I assumed that he'd meet his ultimately gruesome fate while trying to force himself on Amanda or something to that affect. I'll give the movie credit for this as it's one of the only genuine attempts at trying something other than the norm when it comes to monster movies.
OK, so Otis buries the big friggin' axe in the back of the Wookiee suit, I mean, the back of the yeti. For all of his efforts, he's repaid by having the whole front of his head bitten off. Now, I did not know this, because Lance Henriksen never mentioned this, but yetis can evidently unhinge their lower jaw, as Otis' head was far to big to fit in the gaping maw of the yeti otherwise. Basically, the monster stuck its mandible into Otis' mouth, its maxilla over the top of his head & bit down like it was an apple. While OSG's boobs & butt were blurred out, what's left of Otis's head is lovingly shown in close-up, all while he convulses on the floor. Thank you, FCC, for protecting me from the evils of the showering nekkid female body, but for allowing network TV to provide me with a detailed examination of what happens when monsters eat peoples heads. I am truly in your debt.
Once Otis introduces the big friggin' axe to the back of the yeti, it lets go of the rope holding Amanda, letting her drop about twenty feet to to ground. Now, either she swung out enough so as not to fall on top of Preston or he moved, because she was right over him before she was yanked back up. She should've fallen smack down on top of Preston. Having survived the fall & probably having the wind knocked out of her, Amanda now has to drag Preston over to his car. They make it into the car & ratchet up the *snore* tension when they can't find the keys, only to have Preston remember that they're up in the visor. Whew. That was close, boy howdy. To no ones surprise, the monster, big friggin' axe still firmly embedded in its back, lifts up the back of the car as the dup try to drive off. The yeti then drops the car, which then careens into a tree, sending Amanda through the windshield. Preston, slightly shaken, sees the creature coming to chew on Amanda. He pops the car into reverse, floors the gas pedal with his hand & plows the car into the yeti, pinning it against a tree. When the yeti hits the tree, the big friggin' axe is pushed all the way through the front of its chest (did you know yetis squirt? Neither did I). Preston jams the pedal down with his shoe & drags himself over to the prone & bloodied Amanda. (In another nice touch, you can see McCoy move his legs a little as he drags himself from the car) He makes his way to her &, surprise!, she's not dead. This despite her having gone through the windshield face-first.
Now, I don't know how many of you have seen a windshield after someones head has been slammed into it. For those of you that haven't had the pleasure, let me give you a little info on what happens. The glass in a windshield is designed to keep people from flying through it & being ripped to shreds. It's made to break into little pieces &, for the most part, stay in one, shattered piece. (The windshield in the car that I rolled was laying on the ground like a big glass blanket. The few pieces that I did get hit by were from the side window, which is not made to stay together when it's broken.) For a body to be sent flying through safety glass, one - they'd have to be going mighty fast & hit an object mighty hard, & two - they probably wouldn't survive the trip. If the glass doesn't rip you to ribbons, the impact would probably break your neck.
Needless to say, Amanda not only survived the impact & she also only has a gash across her forehead & copious amounts of stage blood covering her face. And she's conscious & able to drag Preston some more. To my absolute, complete unamazement, the police finally show up, just in the nick o' time. We cut to the two protagonists being loaded into a couple of ambulances. It's here where we find out that Amanda is related to the X-Man Wolverine, as the gash that earlier went from the middle of her hairline down to around her ear is now a neat little two inch cut & all of the blood has been entirely wiped clear of her face. Wow, that's some job you did there, Mr. Continuity Manager! Kudos to you, sir!
The police, which include the sheriff, the good hearted deputy, an odious comic relief deputy from earlier & a non-descript red shirt deputy, go looking for the bodies that Preston said were literally littering the campsite. None are found, of course. The fuzz find Preston's car, still backed up against the tree, but, BUM, BUM, BUUUUM!!!, the yeti is nowhere to be found. Thanks again, scriptmonkey, for that original twist. Just how many bananas did you earn for writing this? Geez...
So, the police gather 'round, noting that nothing has been found, which prompts the sheriff to say that there probably was never anything to begin with yadda, yadda, when they hear a noise in the brush & turn to see...a bunch of red CGI eyes looking back at them. Exit the police department.
And, fade to black...
Thank you, Lord!
(Credit where credit's due - I was again genuinely surprised to see that the good hearted deputy apparently became yetichow along with the putz of a sheriff. So that's two - two! - twists in the entire movie. Two times that the scriptmonkey dared deviate from the formula. His trainer must've walked away for a second & he slipped it into the script.)
So, what'd you really think?
Well, it seems SciFi has done it again. Yet another in a long line of really crappy movies, although this is the first one in a long time that didn't star John Rhyes-Davies or Casper Van Dien, so I guess it shows that the network is branching out & offering other starving actors some jobs. Either that or Rhyes-Davies & Van Dien are busy making sequels to other such DTV crapfests as Chupacabra or SS Doomtrooper.
This movie was so by the numbers that it was almost painful to watch. You knew what was going to happen, when it was going to happen & to whom it was going to happen. Given the caliber of movie that this is, it's not entirely surprising that there would be a certain amount of reliance on the old horror formulas, but, cripes, I felt like I'd seen this movie a half dozen other times, only with different antagonists & actors (in most cases). It's become a game for me to see how many future victims I can identify early on in a movie.
I read somewhere that it seems that the victims in horror/monster movies always seem to commit one or more of the seven deadly sins & that the psycho/cryptozooilogical beastie/rabid koala/killer azaelea are actually dishing out payback for their iniquities. As I watched this movie & Pinata the night before (I actually quit watching that one just before it was finished because a) it was almost 2a & b) it was about as predictable as this movie), I noticed that just about everyone who got munched on was either a coward, a drunk, was naked at one point (& not necessarily doing the wild thing) or was just plain mean (in Pinata there was one black man & woman that got et [even though I really didn't see that they'd committed any particular deadly sin], which seems to be part of the formula, as well). Is this actually how they write these things? Do they use this outline to flesh out the plot? Or is this just some logirithim used by some scriptwriting program?
Well, you got me.
Abominable - 2 Eyeballs out of 5
Left Of Center
Sometimes the realization that something's not quite right hits you like a kick in the nads: swift, painful & unrelenting. Sometimes, that same realization comes on a wee bit slower, like a kick just to the left of the jewels: you feel OK at first. Then, there's the slow build of intense pain that brings you to your knees, wishing you'd die. (In some ways, this is worse than a direct hit, because of the whole false sense of well-being just prior to the take-your--breath-away slowly escalating pain.) One particular event a couple of weeks ago fell well under the 'kick just to the left' category.
T's brother & his wife came out to sunny SoCal from Louisiana to run a marathon down in San Diego, after which they made their way up to our place & then the four of us headed out to Palm Springs for a little R&R. We stayed at a nice little inn called the Calla Lily (which I highly recommend - the owners were super nice & accomodating, the rooms were nice & spacious & the whole place was soooo quiet) just off the main strip through PS. From there we were able to walk to just about anywhere in town, although with the heat hitting around 106 degrees & an occasional thunderstorm popping up, it sometimes felt like I was walking around with a wet towel around my face. Couple that with the fact that I was fighting off some weird bug that caused my body to generate an inordinate amount of snot &, well...you get the picture.
Anyway, on Thursday nights, PS has a market night/street fair kinda thingie in downtown. We decided to go see what was there, figuring it would be a bit cooler. We were sorely mistaken. Y'see, even with the misters going that line the streets, it was still 80+ degrees out. When you add water to dry, hot air, it evaporates - fast. It then becomes extremely muggy, worse than during the day. In essence, heat + water + snot = Crabby Jay.
The ladies did some shopping & then we decided to try to find a Mexican food resturant we'd heard of, the Blue Coyote. We had no idea about where on the street it was located, so we did what anyone else would do: start walking, hoping that we'd find the place. This, of course, turned out to be the wrong move. We asked a local where the eatery was & were told that it was, & I quote, 'about three blocks down the street'. In the other direction, of course.
Several 'three blocks down the street' later, T & I were dragging ourselves far behind her brother & sister-in-law (lousy healthy runner-types...), getting tired of walking & ready to take the next place we saw.
Big mistake.
We came across an establishment promising hamburgers of one sort or another. This point was driven home by the place's mascot, a very well endowed woman with gigantic hair, holding a plate with an equally enormous cheeseburger. (This would be the part in my getting-kicked-just-left-of-the-nads analogy where the initial hit happened - I'd been kicked, but thought that all was well as I felt no pain.) While we waited to be seated, a group of young men who, very obviously, um...played for the other team (PS has a large contingent when it comes to this - I told the others this fact, so it wasn't a complete surprise), were sitting at a table near us & became quite vocal & happy when Celine Dion appeared on the TV. (This would be the part of the analogy where a slight discomfort begins to manifest itself, but it's not enough to cripple me.)
We were led to our table inside the resturant & noticed that we were in the minority when it came to couples of the more traditional lot. (Pain starting to become noticeable.) I noticed that placed around the neck of a smaller version of the mascot there was a rainbow colored feather boa, which made it look suspiciously like a female impersonator. (Pain becoming very uncomfortable.) I opened the menu & found a burger named the 'Queen Mary', which had a disclaimer stating that this particular item takes a bit longer to cook because the chef is making it wearing high heels. (Breathing becoming difficult due to pain.)
The thing that finally brought me, analogy-wise, to my knees, clutching my naughty bits & wishing that the sensation of having them caught in a tablevise would stop, was one of the posters, which asked the question 'Do you have a fairy in your house?'. Yes, we all came to the startling, kick-to-the-groin realization that we were in a gay hambuger resturant. I had no idea that these existed.
After sitting for a few minutes trying to take it all in &, most importantly, having not received our drink order that we'd placed ten minutes ago (I hate slow service), we decided to take our leave of the place.
We then found out that the Blue Coyote was two doors down the street. *sigh*
Sometimes the realization that something's not quite right hits you like a kick in the nads: swift, painful & unrelenting. Sometimes, that same realization comes on a wee bit slower, like a kick just to the left of the jewels: you feel OK at first. Then, there's the slow build of intense pain that brings you to your knees, wishing you'd die. (In some ways, this is worse than a direct hit, because of the whole false sense of well-being just prior to the take-your--breath-away slowly escalating pain.) One particular event a couple of weeks ago fell well under the 'kick just to the left' category.
T's brother & his wife came out to sunny SoCal from Louisiana to run a marathon down in San Diego, after which they made their way up to our place & then the four of us headed out to Palm Springs for a little R&R. We stayed at a nice little inn called the Calla Lily (which I highly recommend - the owners were super nice & accomodating, the rooms were nice & spacious & the whole place was soooo quiet) just off the main strip through PS. From there we were able to walk to just about anywhere in town, although with the heat hitting around 106 degrees & an occasional thunderstorm popping up, it sometimes felt like I was walking around with a wet towel around my face. Couple that with the fact that I was fighting off some weird bug that caused my body to generate an inordinate amount of snot &, well...you get the picture.
Anyway, on Thursday nights, PS has a market night/street fair kinda thingie in downtown. We decided to go see what was there, figuring it would be a bit cooler. We were sorely mistaken. Y'see, even with the misters going that line the streets, it was still 80+ degrees out. When you add water to dry, hot air, it evaporates - fast. It then becomes extremely muggy, worse than during the day. In essence, heat + water + snot = Crabby Jay.
The ladies did some shopping & then we decided to try to find a Mexican food resturant we'd heard of, the Blue Coyote. We had no idea about where on the street it was located, so we did what anyone else would do: start walking, hoping that we'd find the place. This, of course, turned out to be the wrong move. We asked a local where the eatery was & were told that it was, & I quote, 'about three blocks down the street'. In the other direction, of course.
Several 'three blocks down the street' later, T & I were dragging ourselves far behind her brother & sister-in-law (lousy healthy runner-types...), getting tired of walking & ready to take the next place we saw.
Big mistake.
We came across an establishment promising hamburgers of one sort or another. This point was driven home by the place's mascot, a very well endowed woman with gigantic hair, holding a plate with an equally enormous cheeseburger. (This would be the part in my getting-kicked-just-left-of-the-nads analogy where the initial hit happened - I'd been kicked, but thought that all was well as I felt no pain.) While we waited to be seated, a group of young men who, very obviously, um...played for the other team (PS has a large contingent when it comes to this - I told the others this fact, so it wasn't a complete surprise), were sitting at a table near us & became quite vocal & happy when Celine Dion appeared on the TV. (This would be the part of the analogy where a slight discomfort begins to manifest itself, but it's not enough to cripple me.)
We were led to our table inside the resturant & noticed that we were in the minority when it came to couples of the more traditional lot. (Pain starting to become noticeable.) I noticed that placed around the neck of a smaller version of the mascot there was a rainbow colored feather boa, which made it look suspiciously like a female impersonator. (Pain becoming very uncomfortable.) I opened the menu & found a burger named the 'Queen Mary', which had a disclaimer stating that this particular item takes a bit longer to cook because the chef is making it wearing high heels. (Breathing becoming difficult due to pain.)
The thing that finally brought me, analogy-wise, to my knees, clutching my naughty bits & wishing that the sensation of having them caught in a tablevise would stop, was one of the posters, which asked the question 'Do you have a fairy in your house?'. Yes, we all came to the startling, kick-to-the-groin realization that we were in a gay hambuger resturant. I had no idea that these existed.
After sitting for a few minutes trying to take it all in &, most importantly, having not received our drink order that we'd placed ten minutes ago (I hate slow service), we decided to take our leave of the place.
We then found out that the Blue Coyote was two doors down the street. *sigh*
The Most Least Dangerous Game
Futbol. Soccer. It doesn't matter what you call it, it's friggin' boring.
I watched the end of the US/Italy match on Saturday (not willingly, mind you). While observing what is quite possibly one of the most mind numbingly dull sports in the world, my mind wandered, as it tends to do when faced with boredom. My mind kept replaying something that I'd heard a few days ago: apparently, the Worldwide/International/Intergalactic/Whatever futbol association said that despite many attempts to get America onboard with soccer, it still hasn't taken hold quite as well as they would've liked for it to.
Watching the match, I figured out why: Americans like some sort of action with their sports. And, on occasion, expolsions. Now, while I'm no great fan of sports, I can totally understand that. I mean, take football - it's guaranteed that you'll see someone get tackled. If you're lucky, you'll see a quarterback get flipped butt over teakettle by some 400 lb Neanderthal & then trampled into the grass. Baseball, while more fun to play than actually watch, at least breaks out with a fight now & then, especially when the batter gets dinged by an errant pitch. Hockey - the same thing, except a game sometimes breaks out in between fights. Even racing provides one with the chance to see a car skid down the track at 200 mph on its roof. Soccer, though? Twenty-two men running up & down a field. Kicking a ball. For 90 minutes. Scoring 2 points.
Wow. How exciting.
During several of the breaks between the intense soccer action (where people kept passing the ball back & forth & not really gaining any ground), I came up with a few ideas to maybe help futbol take root in the States:
1) Smaller fields
2) Higher scoring games
3) People with names that we can pronounce
4) Cheerleaders (unless the team's from a former Soviet Bloc nation - *shudder*)
5) Full contact soccer (oh yeah - rugby)
6) One word: Landmines
7) Get the guy from TeleMundo to announce every game - GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAL!!!
8) Alligator filled moats, located in the middle of the field & just in front of the goals, big enough to prevent players from jumping over, with narrow footbridges to facilitate crossing
9) Dave Coullier Appreciation Day (I know, he's a Canadian & therefore genetically predisposed to being liking hockey, but I haven't mentioned him in awhile on MLCotW. Hi Dave!)
10) Retractable spikes along the out of bounds lines
11) Retractable spikes on the ball
12) Soccer Hooligan Appreciation Day (free beer & crowbars for the first 100 hooligans)
13) Bolas
14) Time-release exploding soccer balls
15) Shock collars, with sensors that randomly set the collar off laced throughout the field
16) Man eating tigers
17) Midgets - you just can't go wrong with midgets
These are but a few things that I thought of right off the top of my head. I guarantee that any one of these suggestions would increase American viewership greatly.
I know I'd watch it.
Futbol. Soccer. It doesn't matter what you call it, it's friggin' boring.
I watched the end of the US/Italy match on Saturday (not willingly, mind you). While observing what is quite possibly one of the most mind numbingly dull sports in the world, my mind wandered, as it tends to do when faced with boredom. My mind kept replaying something that I'd heard a few days ago: apparently, the Worldwide/International/Intergalactic/Whatever futbol association said that despite many attempts to get America onboard with soccer, it still hasn't taken hold quite as well as they would've liked for it to.
Watching the match, I figured out why: Americans like some sort of action with their sports. And, on occasion, expolsions. Now, while I'm no great fan of sports, I can totally understand that. I mean, take football - it's guaranteed that you'll see someone get tackled. If you're lucky, you'll see a quarterback get flipped butt over teakettle by some 400 lb Neanderthal & then trampled into the grass. Baseball, while more fun to play than actually watch, at least breaks out with a fight now & then, especially when the batter gets dinged by an errant pitch. Hockey - the same thing, except a game sometimes breaks out in between fights. Even racing provides one with the chance to see a car skid down the track at 200 mph on its roof. Soccer, though? Twenty-two men running up & down a field. Kicking a ball. For 90 minutes. Scoring 2 points.
Wow. How exciting.
During several of the breaks between the intense soccer action (where people kept passing the ball back & forth & not really gaining any ground), I came up with a few ideas to maybe help futbol take root in the States:
1) Smaller fields
2) Higher scoring games
3) People with names that we can pronounce
4) Cheerleaders (unless the team's from a former Soviet Bloc nation - *shudder*)
5) Full contact soccer (oh yeah - rugby)
6) One word: Landmines
7) Get the guy from TeleMundo to announce every game - GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAL!!!
8) Alligator filled moats, located in the middle of the field & just in front of the goals, big enough to prevent players from jumping over, with narrow footbridges to facilitate crossing
9) Dave Coullier Appreciation Day (I know, he's a Canadian & therefore genetically predisposed to being liking hockey, but I haven't mentioned him in awhile on MLCotW. Hi Dave!)
10) Retractable spikes along the out of bounds lines
11) Retractable spikes on the ball
12) Soccer Hooligan Appreciation Day (free beer & crowbars for the first 100 hooligans)
13) Bolas
14) Time-release exploding soccer balls
15) Shock collars, with sensors that randomly set the collar off laced throughout the field
16) Man eating tigers
17) Midgets - you just can't go wrong with midgets
These are but a few things that I thought of right off the top of my head. I guarantee that any one of these suggestions would increase American viewership greatly.
I know I'd watch it.
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
This Little Piggy Had A Date With A Bonesaw
On the news last night I saw one of the stupidest things I've seen in a long time - people are going to the doctor to have their toes shortened. Yes, people with unsightly, overlong second toes can now have the bone shortened so that they can wear open-toed shoes & high heels.
*sigh*
I mean, there are some medically releated reasons to have one's market going piggy shortened, but the women that the news article focused on were doing it for purely cosmetic reasons. One woman, who didn't want her face shown (probably because family & friends would laugh themselves retarded upon finding out that she had plastic surgery on her toe) said that she did it because her hideous, freakish, over-grown toe was noticeable, she admitted, probably only to her. But now, through the marvels of medical science, she can wear spike heeled shoes &, apparently, not worry about tripping people with her mutant digit. Think of the tragedy that has now been avoided! *whew!*
On the news last night I saw one of the stupidest things I've seen in a long time - people are going to the doctor to have their toes shortened. Yes, people with unsightly, overlong second toes can now have the bone shortened so that they can wear open-toed shoes & high heels.
*sigh*
I mean, there are some medically releated reasons to have one's market going piggy shortened, but the women that the news article focused on were doing it for purely cosmetic reasons. One woman, who didn't want her face shown (probably because family & friends would laugh themselves retarded upon finding out that she had plastic surgery on her toe) said that she did it because her hideous, freakish, over-grown toe was noticeable, she admitted, probably only to her. But now, through the marvels of medical science, she can wear spike heeled shoes &, apparently, not worry about tripping people with her mutant digit. Think of the tragedy that has now been avoided! *whew!*
18 Ways To Torment Your Co-Workers
Fill desk drawers with packing peanuts
Put tape over mouthpiece on phone
Apply copius amounts of Quik-Sort (a substance that looks a lot like ear wax & gets sticky as it dries) to the earpiece
Fill rubber finger with lotion
Fill rubber finger with Quik-Sort
Tape pens in pencil holder together
Tape calendar shut
Tape phone handset to the base
Tape stapler shut
Apply hand sanitizer to mouse & mousepad
Apply Quik-Sort to mouse
Neuter co-workers mouse
Things left to do to my co-workers:
Superglue armrests to underside of desk
Hang rubberbands all over desk
Rearrange keys on keyboard
Leave numerous voicemails (probably have to do that one from home)
Superglue desk drawers shut
Superglue inkstamps to their covers
Fill desk drawers with packing peanuts
Put tape over mouthpiece on phone
Apply copius amounts of Quik-Sort (a substance that looks a lot like ear wax & gets sticky as it dries) to the earpiece
Fill rubber finger with lotion
Fill rubber finger with Quik-Sort
Tape pens in pencil holder together
Tape calendar shut
Tape phone handset to the base
Tape stapler shut
Apply hand sanitizer to mouse & mousepad
Apply Quik-Sort to mouse
Neuter co-workers mouse
Things left to do to my co-workers:
Superglue armrests to underside of desk
Hang rubberbands all over desk
Rearrange keys on keyboard
Leave numerous voicemails (probably have to do that one from home)
Superglue desk drawers shut
Superglue inkstamps to their covers
Sunday, May 14, 2006
Spring Cleaning
Searching for something else to do at work the other day (my hand was cramping from playing with the Schlumberger *hee hee!*), I decided to do my semi-annual desk cleaning. Since I work in a warehouse, things tend to get a little dusty. As I was evicting dust bunnies from behind my monitor, I started to do an inventory of my desk area.
Here's what I found:
Dust
A rubber band
2 Clone Trooper action figures
A bottle of Purell hand sanitizer
More dust
1 small sticky pad
About a fifth of another small sticky pad
About a tenth of a large sticky pad
A note from T written on a small sticky
My sunglasses
A bottle of contact lens cleaner
Some more dust
The Schlumberger *snort*
3 more rubber bands (for shooting at my cellmates)
A picture of T & I
A picture of The Boy
A Darth Vader alarm clock
A Spider-Man clock
A rubber spider on top of the Spider-Man clock
A rubber fish
2 spaceships made out of binder clips
Several pieces of the binder clips that didn't make it into my spaceship production
A paper airplane
The Millennium Falcon, an X-wing & a TIE Fighter (Micro Machines)
A thumbtack
Hmm...dust. Imagine that.
2 coffee cups (1 with pens, 1 with candy)
Coasters
My laser scanner/death ray
Work crap (stamps, labels, papers that I stuffed into cubbyholes & promptly forgot about, etc.)
Paper clips (also handy for throwing at cellmates)
And that's just on my desk. And not even everything on my desk at that.
Above the desk:
A stuffed Snoopy from T
A Star Wars calendar
A picture of a Wookiee
A He-Man & Skeletor cake topper
More frickin' dust
A C-3PO action figure
An R2-D2 action figure (wouldn't want 3PO to get lonely)
A Christmas ornament of Chewbacca with C-3PO on his back from 'The Empire Strikes Back'
Still more rubber bands
The 'Hollywood Geek-Out' picture
A Darth Vader action figure (with lightsaber swinging action!)
2 Imperial Star Destroyers
An AT-AT & a snowspeeder (Micro Machines again)
Another Christmas ornament, this time of Darth Vader after he's told Luke about their family connection (it talks, too!)
1 Darth Tater (yup, I've even got a Darth Tater)
A picture of T on our wedding day
Another picture of T & I
And another one of The Boy
A picture of The Boy & T's dad (that everyone assumes is my dad for some reason)
Gah! More dust
A hydrocephalic baby Jesus (I found him in the 'Kings Cake' that Irene made after New Year's; He apparently didnt fare too well in the baking process)
An Episode I movie poster, kindly donated by ETS
A plant that's stayed alive despite my feeding it Mountain Dew
A stick for poking my nearest cellmate
A poster of an F-14 & an aircraft carrier from The Boy
A bottle of water (placed right next to the plant, just to be mean)
What I'm wondering is why I don't have more fun at work? A lot of my toys are here.
Searching for something else to do at work the other day (my hand was cramping from playing with the Schlumberger *hee hee!*), I decided to do my semi-annual desk cleaning. Since I work in a warehouse, things tend to get a little dusty. As I was evicting dust bunnies from behind my monitor, I started to do an inventory of my desk area.
Here's what I found:
Dust
A rubber band
2 Clone Trooper action figures
A bottle of Purell hand sanitizer
More dust
1 small sticky pad
About a fifth of another small sticky pad
About a tenth of a large sticky pad
A note from T written on a small sticky
My sunglasses
A bottle of contact lens cleaner
Some more dust
The Schlumberger *snort*
3 more rubber bands (for shooting at my cellmates)
A picture of T & I
A picture of The Boy
A Darth Vader alarm clock
A Spider-Man clock
A rubber spider on top of the Spider-Man clock
A rubber fish
2 spaceships made out of binder clips
Several pieces of the binder clips that didn't make it into my spaceship production
A paper airplane
The Millennium Falcon, an X-wing & a TIE Fighter (Micro Machines)
A thumbtack
Hmm...dust. Imagine that.
2 coffee cups (1 with pens, 1 with candy)
Coasters
My laser scanner/death ray
Work crap (stamps, labels, papers that I stuffed into cubbyholes & promptly forgot about, etc.)
Paper clips (also handy for throwing at cellmates)
And that's just on my desk. And not even everything on my desk at that.
Above the desk:
A stuffed Snoopy from T
A Star Wars calendar
A picture of a Wookiee
A He-Man & Skeletor cake topper
More frickin' dust
A C-3PO action figure
An R2-D2 action figure (wouldn't want 3PO to get lonely)
A Christmas ornament of Chewbacca with C-3PO on his back from 'The Empire Strikes Back'
Still more rubber bands
The 'Hollywood Geek-Out' picture
A Darth Vader action figure (with lightsaber swinging action!)
2 Imperial Star Destroyers
An AT-AT & a snowspeeder (Micro Machines again)
Another Christmas ornament, this time of Darth Vader after he's told Luke about their family connection (it talks, too!)
1 Darth Tater (yup, I've even got a Darth Tater)
A picture of T on our wedding day
Another picture of T & I
And another one of The Boy
A picture of The Boy & T's dad (that everyone assumes is my dad for some reason)
Gah! More dust
A hydrocephalic baby Jesus (I found him in the 'Kings Cake' that Irene made after New Year's; He apparently didnt fare too well in the baking process)
An Episode I movie poster, kindly donated by ETS
A plant that's stayed alive despite my feeding it Mountain Dew
A stick for poking my nearest cellmate
A poster of an F-14 & an aircraft carrier from The Boy
A bottle of water (placed right next to the plant, just to be mean)
What I'm wondering is why I don't have more fun at work? A lot of my toys are here.
Saturday, May 13, 2006
My Schlumberger *snicker*
The other day, my supervisor gave each of us in the office a stress ball that looks like the planet Earth & is filled, quite unlike Earth, with some weird mystery gel. The best thing about it, though, is that it has the word 'Schlumberger' *giggle!* written across it. We named them our Schlumbergers *snort* which, as you can see, elicits several giggles whenever the word is uttered. I believe that the mystery gel is some mixture of jell-o & crack, as I haven't been able to put the Schlumberger *hee hee heeeee!* down since it was given to me.
Or maybe a gel filled squishy ball is just the most interesting thing in my office.
Schlumberger!
The other day, my supervisor gave each of us in the office a stress ball that looks like the planet Earth & is filled, quite unlike Earth, with some weird mystery gel. The best thing about it, though, is that it has the word 'Schlumberger' *giggle!* written across it. We named them our Schlumbergers *snort* which, as you can see, elicits several giggles whenever the word is uttered. I believe that the mystery gel is some mixture of jell-o & crack, as I haven't been able to put the Schlumberger *hee hee heeeee!* down since it was given to me.
Or maybe a gel filled squishy ball is just the most interesting thing in my office.
Schlumberger!
George Lucas & His Amazing Moneysucking Machine
I'm sure that most of you have heard the news - George Lucas is finally releasing the old, original, Han-shoots-first versions of Star Wars episodes IV-VI on DVD.
Y'know, it's not that I mind shelling out another thirty bucks apiece for the movies (because, yes, I'm a freak & I will buy the new DVDs). I just wish Mr. Lucas would quit following me around with that money vacuum of his.
It's a little embarrassing.
I'm sure that most of you have heard the news - George Lucas is finally releasing the old, original, Han-shoots-first versions of Star Wars episodes IV-VI on DVD.
Y'know, it's not that I mind shelling out another thirty bucks apiece for the movies (because, yes, I'm a freak & I will buy the new DVDs). I just wish Mr. Lucas would quit following me around with that money vacuum of his.
It's a little embarrassing.
Celebrity Jeopardy!
Answer:
Nails on a chalkboard
Being kicked in the head repeatedly by a rabid donkey
Being kicked in the jewels repeatedly by a rabid donkey
A battery acid enema
Question:
What are things I'd rather be subjected to than listening to alleged comedianne Kathy Griffin?
She had some special on TV. About ten seconds into the thing I was daydreaming about rabid donkeys & battery acid.
*Adding insult to injury, I had written this post a few days ago. Yesterday, my new Entertainment Weekly came in the mail. Who should they have a small article about?
Yep.
Excuse me while I go drain my car's battery acid*
Answer:
Nails on a chalkboard
Being kicked in the head repeatedly by a rabid donkey
Being kicked in the jewels repeatedly by a rabid donkey
A battery acid enema
Question:
What are things I'd rather be subjected to than listening to alleged comedianne Kathy Griffin?
She had some special on TV. About ten seconds into the thing I was daydreaming about rabid donkeys & battery acid.
*Adding insult to injury, I had written this post a few days ago. Yesterday, my new Entertainment Weekly came in the mail. Who should they have a small article about?
Yep.
Excuse me while I go drain my car's battery acid*
Monday, May 01, 2006
Happy Anniversary Deux!
Two years. Two years! Two years worth of laughter, cheesy movies, an argument or two & love. Lots & lots of love. My beautiful one, you are the living incarnation of perserverance!
I love you with all of my heart. You continue to make me the happiest man on the planet & I'm so, so, so grateful, honored & blessed to call you my best friend, my love, my wife.
I love you Beautiful!
Two years. Two years! Two years worth of laughter, cheesy movies, an argument or two & love. Lots & lots of love. My beautiful one, you are the living incarnation of perserverance!
I love you with all of my heart. You continue to make me the happiest man on the planet & I'm so, so, so grateful, honored & blessed to call you my best friend, my love, my wife.
I love you Beautiful!
Thursday, April 06, 2006
4/6/94, 6:42a
Twelve years ago, at this exact time, you entered my life, all screaming & gooey. I remember it as though it were yesterday.
You were actually due the day before. When it turned out to be another 22 hours before you forcibly brought out into the world, I should have known you inherited my stubbornness. You spent the next day or so in the NICU, warming yourself in the incubator &, I suspect, loving every bit of attention everyone gave you, a trait you definitely didn't get from me.
Since the day God graced me with you I've watched you grow & explore & learn. I've seen your low points (remember the remote controlled dinosaur that didn't quite measure up to the images on the box?) & have cried when you've been hurt. I've seen the high points in your life, as well (remember that amazing catch you made as the catcher on your baseball team?). I've cheered for you & have watched with pride & the widest smile ever seen as you've accomplished so many things in your life: your first words; your first steps; your acheivements in school & sports.
You may not know it, but I sit & watch you sometimes, whether your playing with your friends or mastering some video game or reading or watching a movie or whatever you may be doing. I wonder what goes on in your head, what you're thinking about. What thoughts are bouncing around in there, kiddo? I'm sure there's some that I don't want to know about, but still...
I love your ability to talk to people & make friends. I both love & fear the fact that you know no strangers; everyone is your friend. I remember that when you were little, I never had to worry about you wandering out the door when we'd go to the grocery store because everybody that worked at the checkouts knew you & watched out for you. I pray that you never lose that ability or your love for people. Take it from someone who knows - it's hard to get by in this world when you can't communicate with others. And it's a lonely existence if you can't make friends.
I love playing games with you (yes, even when you whip me good - except for the BMX game, in which I get the chance to whup you; I rule that game with an iron sceptor!) & all the teasing & trash talking we do. I've loved playing basketball with you & all the teasing & trash talking that goes along with that, as well. I realize that we haven't done a lot of that lately, & for that I am sorry. I want you to have great memories of us doing things together & I promise to shoot more hoops with you & go to the batting cages more often & to finally get those fishing poles ready & put them to good use.
Twelve years. You're almost a young man now, on the cusp of embarking on a new chapter in your life. I look to the next few years of your life with a mixture of excitement & dread. I'm eager to see where your life will take you, but I also know that my little boy won't be, well...so little anymore. You won't be as dependent on me as you have been over the previous years. You'll start making more & more of your own decisions as you get older. You'll want less & less of my input in things, for a while at least. Y'know what, though? I'll be proud of you. I'll be proud of you because you became a person who could think for themself & make their own choices.
I've rambled now far longer than I thought I would, but I really want you to understand that, no matter how aggravated I may get at times, no matter how many times you try to argue or negotiate your way out of things, & no matter how many nights spent doing homework we may endure, I am truly so happy that you're my son.
I love you more than you'll ever know.
Happy birthday, son!
Twelve years ago, at this exact time, you entered my life, all screaming & gooey. I remember it as though it were yesterday.
You were actually due the day before. When it turned out to be another 22 hours before you forcibly brought out into the world, I should have known you inherited my stubbornness. You spent the next day or so in the NICU, warming yourself in the incubator &, I suspect, loving every bit of attention everyone gave you, a trait you definitely didn't get from me.
Since the day God graced me with you I've watched you grow & explore & learn. I've seen your low points (remember the remote controlled dinosaur that didn't quite measure up to the images on the box?) & have cried when you've been hurt. I've seen the high points in your life, as well (remember that amazing catch you made as the catcher on your baseball team?). I've cheered for you & have watched with pride & the widest smile ever seen as you've accomplished so many things in your life: your first words; your first steps; your acheivements in school & sports.
You may not know it, but I sit & watch you sometimes, whether your playing with your friends or mastering some video game or reading or watching a movie or whatever you may be doing. I wonder what goes on in your head, what you're thinking about. What thoughts are bouncing around in there, kiddo? I'm sure there's some that I don't want to know about, but still...
I love your ability to talk to people & make friends. I both love & fear the fact that you know no strangers; everyone is your friend. I remember that when you were little, I never had to worry about you wandering out the door when we'd go to the grocery store because everybody that worked at the checkouts knew you & watched out for you. I pray that you never lose that ability or your love for people. Take it from someone who knows - it's hard to get by in this world when you can't communicate with others. And it's a lonely existence if you can't make friends.
I love playing games with you (yes, even when you whip me good - except for the BMX game, in which I get the chance to whup you; I rule that game with an iron sceptor!) & all the teasing & trash talking we do. I've loved playing basketball with you & all the teasing & trash talking that goes along with that, as well. I realize that we haven't done a lot of that lately, & for that I am sorry. I want you to have great memories of us doing things together & I promise to shoot more hoops with you & go to the batting cages more often & to finally get those fishing poles ready & put them to good use.
Twelve years. You're almost a young man now, on the cusp of embarking on a new chapter in your life. I look to the next few years of your life with a mixture of excitement & dread. I'm eager to see where your life will take you, but I also know that my little boy won't be, well...so little anymore. You won't be as dependent on me as you have been over the previous years. You'll start making more & more of your own decisions as you get older. You'll want less & less of my input in things, for a while at least. Y'know what, though? I'll be proud of you. I'll be proud of you because you became a person who could think for themself & make their own choices.
I've rambled now far longer than I thought I would, but I really want you to understand that, no matter how aggravated I may get at times, no matter how many times you try to argue or negotiate your way out of things, & no matter how many nights spent doing homework we may endure, I am truly so happy that you're my son.
I love you more than you'll ever know.
Happy birthday, son!
Monday, March 27, 2006
Dirty Words! Dirty Words! Dirty Words!
I had to work on T's car this weekend.
I have come to the conclusion that the Japanese design their cars strictly for the amusment they elicit from watching an average American male try to stick his hands down into the engine compartment.
They get their pleasure from my pain.
I had to work on T's car this weekend.
I have come to the conclusion that the Japanese design their cars strictly for the amusment they elicit from watching an average American male try to stick his hands down into the engine compartment.
They get their pleasure from my pain.
Monday, March 13, 2006
Why I Should Never Cook Without Supervision
Saturday, as I was blipping around the channels, I happened upon some woman on the Food Network making chili. I said to myself "That looks good, & easy to boot!" So, last night I attempted to repeat the recipe from memory.
What I remembered:
Ground turkey, browned
Canned tomatoes, squished by hand
Tomato paste (had to use tomato sauce instead)
Black beans
Flour, to thicken the sauce (we didn't have any maza)
What I added to the mix:
Salt
Pepper
Garlic
Red pepper
What I thought was chili powder
Raise your hand if you can tell me where this is going.
As I browned the meat, I added the spices. After I added the tomatoes, I added some more of the spices. At about this time, The Boy came up to me & asked why the chili smelled like cinnamon. I figured it was just that I had the spice cabinet open & he was smelling what was in there. It was then that the startling realization hit me like a fastball to the groin - the bottle that I had thought contained California chili powder instead was filled with - yes - cinnamon.
In an attempt to make the chili taste less like French toast (& determined not to waste a pound of ground turkey), I added more red pepper. This only served to make the chili taste like French toast made with Red Hots. More garlic worked about as well. About the only thing that helped at all was adding cheese to the concoction after I dished some up (Cheese! Is there nothing you can't make taste better?). All in all, it wasn't unedible, but, I strongly suspect that "French chili" won't be found on many dinner (or breakfast) menus anytime soon.
The lesson learned: Label your plain glass spice jars. Barring that, taste the spice before adding copious amounts of it to your dish.
Saturday, as I was blipping around the channels, I happened upon some woman on the Food Network making chili. I said to myself "That looks good, & easy to boot!" So, last night I attempted to repeat the recipe from memory.
What I remembered:
Ground turkey, browned
Canned tomatoes, squished by hand
Tomato paste (had to use tomato sauce instead)
Black beans
Flour, to thicken the sauce (we didn't have any maza)
What I added to the mix:
Salt
Pepper
Garlic
Red pepper
What I thought was chili powder
Raise your hand if you can tell me where this is going.
As I browned the meat, I added the spices. After I added the tomatoes, I added some more of the spices. At about this time, The Boy came up to me & asked why the chili smelled like cinnamon. I figured it was just that I had the spice cabinet open & he was smelling what was in there. It was then that the startling realization hit me like a fastball to the groin - the bottle that I had thought contained California chili powder instead was filled with - yes - cinnamon.
In an attempt to make the chili taste less like French toast (& determined not to waste a pound of ground turkey), I added more red pepper. This only served to make the chili taste like French toast made with Red Hots. More garlic worked about as well. About the only thing that helped at all was adding cheese to the concoction after I dished some up (Cheese! Is there nothing you can't make taste better?). All in all, it wasn't unedible, but, I strongly suspect that "French chili" won't be found on many dinner (or breakfast) menus anytime soon.
The lesson learned: Label your plain glass spice jars. Barring that, taste the spice before adding copious amounts of it to your dish.
Mini Review - What Lies Beneath
When this movie came on TV Saturday night & T asked if I wanted to watch it, my initial response was "Wha?". I could not for the life of me remember this move ever coming out. And while I missed a fair chunk of the middle of it (I'm a bad reviewer, I know), I can say with perfect confidence that, if the middle of the movie was anything like the end of it, I didn't miss a thing.
The gist of the movie is that Michelle Pfeiffer's character becomes sort of possessed by the spirit of a local college girl that was murdered a few years before & whose body was never found. She finds out that her husband, Harrison Ford, was having an affair with the girl at the time she disappeared. He tells her that the girl committed suicide in their house to set him up & that he took her body & dumped it (& her car) in a lake. Pfeiffer is drawn to the area near the girl's final resting place & finds a box with her necklace in it. Ford 'fesses up to the fact that he killed her to keep her from going to the dean at the college he's a professor at. Now, because Pfeiffer wouldn't just let things go, he has to off her. Several *yawn* tense scenes of him drugging her & trying to drown her in the bathtub (he was going to make it look like she did herself in by electrocuting herself in the tub) result in one of the most paint-by-numbers final confrontations seen since the equally mind numbing Sandra Bullock, er, 'thriller', "Murder By Numbers" (He's dead! No he's not! Now he is! Nope, he's alive again! Sheesh! The guy popped up more times than the lovechild of Freddy Krueger & Jason Vorhees!).
The only real draw for me was seeing Ford play a bad guy. Unfortunately, it was like watching "Temple of Doom," when Indy is temporarily possessed by Mola Ram. I kept waiting for Short Round to try to snap him out of his trance ("Docta Jones! I luf yeeew!"). I mean, I always equate him with being a hero. I guess, in a way, he's been type-cast. There are worse things to be type-cast as, but still, I can imagine that even Ford wants to expand his repetoire now & then. It just didn't work here.
The acting wasn't bad, but the lazy scripting killed off any chance of an enjoyable suspense movie.
2 out of 5 meh's
When this movie came on TV Saturday night & T asked if I wanted to watch it, my initial response was "Wha?". I could not for the life of me remember this move ever coming out. And while I missed a fair chunk of the middle of it (I'm a bad reviewer, I know), I can say with perfect confidence that, if the middle of the movie was anything like the end of it, I didn't miss a thing.
The gist of the movie is that Michelle Pfeiffer's character becomes sort of possessed by the spirit of a local college girl that was murdered a few years before & whose body was never found. She finds out that her husband, Harrison Ford, was having an affair with the girl at the time she disappeared. He tells her that the girl committed suicide in their house to set him up & that he took her body & dumped it (& her car) in a lake. Pfeiffer is drawn to the area near the girl's final resting place & finds a box with her necklace in it. Ford 'fesses up to the fact that he killed her to keep her from going to the dean at the college he's a professor at. Now, because Pfeiffer wouldn't just let things go, he has to off her. Several *yawn* tense scenes of him drugging her & trying to drown her in the bathtub (he was going to make it look like she did herself in by electrocuting herself in the tub) result in one of the most paint-by-numbers final confrontations seen since the equally mind numbing Sandra Bullock, er, 'thriller', "Murder By Numbers" (He's dead! No he's not! Now he is! Nope, he's alive again! Sheesh! The guy popped up more times than the lovechild of Freddy Krueger & Jason Vorhees!).
The only real draw for me was seeing Ford play a bad guy. Unfortunately, it was like watching "Temple of Doom," when Indy is temporarily possessed by Mola Ram. I kept waiting for Short Round to try to snap him out of his trance ("Docta Jones! I luf yeeew!"). I mean, I always equate him with being a hero. I guess, in a way, he's been type-cast. There are worse things to be type-cast as, but still, I can imagine that even Ford wants to expand his repetoire now & then. It just didn't work here.
The acting wasn't bad, but the lazy scripting killed off any chance of an enjoyable suspense movie.
2 out of 5 meh's
It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas
During one of my frequent stretches that I perform during the day, I noticed that we still have a candy cane from last Christmas hanging up. It's a white candy cane, called a Snow Cane.
If it fell & fractured, would that make it a cracked snow cane?
Drug humor - it never goes out of style.
During one of my frequent stretches that I perform during the day, I noticed that we still have a candy cane from last Christmas hanging up. It's a white candy cane, called a Snow Cane.
If it fell & fractured, would that make it a cracked snow cane?
Drug humor - it never goes out of style.
You've Got Some 'splainin' To Do!
This showed up in my email today:
Colloquium This Week
Abstract: Fred Mertz, Photon Research Associates, a Raytheon Company
Looks like Fred got out of the landlord business & hooked up with Raytheon.
Hope Raytheon's higher up's like having grouchy old guys barging into their offices without knocking first.
This showed up in my email today:
Colloquium This Week
Abstract: Fred Mertz, Photon Research Associates, a Raytheon Company
Looks like Fred got out of the landlord business & hooked up with Raytheon.
Hope Raytheon's higher up's like having grouchy old guys barging into their offices without knocking first.
Thursday, March 02, 2006
Do Something Great
I've tried to start this post about 3 times now, trying to avoid sounding like a kvetching old man, but, really, there's no 'nice' way to say it - I'm sick of hearing, seeing & reading about spoiled celebrities & there expolits (no way! Me? Wow - whodauthunkit?).
Frequently, while channel surfing, I'll hear a blurb stating something like "Coming up next, we find out who the new stud is in Mary-Kate's dogs' life!" or "TomKat - Together Town or Splitsville?". I mean, honestly - do we care about these vapid, self absorbed brats? And if so, then who are you? We need to have a talk. My favorite, though (not), is the "Lifestyles of the Rich & Famous"-type show on VH-1, hosted by some Robin Leach knock-off. Why do we idolize these people?
Now, please don't get me wrong - I don't believe that all celebrities are like this, nor do I begrudge anyone who's made it big or has amassed great wealth & fame. It's what they do with it & how they carry themselves in public that bugs me. When I hear about Lindsay Lohan partying all night or the goodie bags that stars get for showing up at a screening or awards show, with crap that's worth more than most families make in a year, I want to throw something at the TV. I mean, does Paris Hilton really need Motorola to give her a $25,000 diamond encrusted cell phone? Cripes, she'll just end up taking some compromising pictures with it & losing it, anyway.
Why do I bring all this up (again)? And what does all of this have to do with the post's title? Well, I'm glad you asked. It's depressing me that these people who, other than being able to consume copious amounts of liquor, breath the air in clubs that makes the atmosphere on Venus seem absolutely pristine & go for days without sleep, really have zero talents or skills that could be of some use to someone are the people that the public looks up to like some golden calf. I've decided that, while I'm not one of the 'beautiful people' of Hollyweird, I can still make a difference in the world. Well, my world, at least.
I want to do something great.
What might that be, you ask? Well, the beauty of this is that it can be anything - it's all relative. Think about it - if you had a $1,000,000 & gave it to a local cause, yes, that would be a great thing for them. If you brought a sandwich for & talked to the homeless guy that you pass every day on the street, he would probably see that as the highpoint of his day. Paying attention to a child who just wants to be acknowledged. Picking up some extra socks & underwear or toiletries for the local shelter. Joining up with a Habitat For Humanity outfit. Something as simple as smiling at someone who looks like they need cheering up (I know, I know..."You? Smiling at someone? Are you being medicated?" To which I reply - bite me.) Even just making even more of an effort to let those around you know that you love them. Are you catching on, yet? The thing that makes whatever one chooses to do great, though, is not that they think it's great, but that it be great for the person (or people, or charities, etc.) on the receiving end.
Now, I don't know yet what great thing I want to do. This is all just starting to formulate in my bean. T has been picking up clothes & backpaks for our youth group to distribute to homeless people in the area, but since she drops the items off at church while I'm at work, I don't really have much of a hand in things. I want to be a little more directly involved in something. I need to put some thought into this.
So, what do you think, Loyal Readers? Does this sound like a worthy cause? Can you think of great things that you can do? Let me know your thoughts on this. My site's too far under the radar to get the idea out, so pass the word around on your sites or just tell someone you know. Just think about what could be done if we all decided to do something great.
We can't let Paris & her ilk have all the fun, can we?
I've tried to start this post about 3 times now, trying to avoid sounding like a kvetching old man, but, really, there's no 'nice' way to say it - I'm sick of hearing, seeing & reading about spoiled celebrities & there expolits (no way! Me? Wow - whodauthunkit?).
Frequently, while channel surfing, I'll hear a blurb stating something like "Coming up next, we find out who the new stud is in Mary-Kate's dogs' life!" or "TomKat - Together Town or Splitsville?". I mean, honestly - do we care about these vapid, self absorbed brats? And if so, then who are you? We need to have a talk. My favorite, though (not), is the "Lifestyles of the Rich & Famous"-type show on VH-1, hosted by some Robin Leach knock-off. Why do we idolize these people?
Now, please don't get me wrong - I don't believe that all celebrities are like this, nor do I begrudge anyone who's made it big or has amassed great wealth & fame. It's what they do with it & how they carry themselves in public that bugs me. When I hear about Lindsay Lohan partying all night or the goodie bags that stars get for showing up at a screening or awards show, with crap that's worth more than most families make in a year, I want to throw something at the TV. I mean, does Paris Hilton really need Motorola to give her a $25,000 diamond encrusted cell phone? Cripes, she'll just end up taking some compromising pictures with it & losing it, anyway.
Why do I bring all this up (again)? And what does all of this have to do with the post's title? Well, I'm glad you asked. It's depressing me that these people who, other than being able to consume copious amounts of liquor, breath the air in clubs that makes the atmosphere on Venus seem absolutely pristine & go for days without sleep, really have zero talents or skills that could be of some use to someone are the people that the public looks up to like some golden calf. I've decided that, while I'm not one of the 'beautiful people' of Hollyweird, I can still make a difference in the world. Well, my world, at least.
I want to do something great.
What might that be, you ask? Well, the beauty of this is that it can be anything - it's all relative. Think about it - if you had a $1,000,000 & gave it to a local cause, yes, that would be a great thing for them. If you brought a sandwich for & talked to the homeless guy that you pass every day on the street, he would probably see that as the highpoint of his day. Paying attention to a child who just wants to be acknowledged. Picking up some extra socks & underwear or toiletries for the local shelter. Joining up with a Habitat For Humanity outfit. Something as simple as smiling at someone who looks like they need cheering up (I know, I know..."You? Smiling at someone? Are you being medicated?" To which I reply - bite me.) Even just making even more of an effort to let those around you know that you love them. Are you catching on, yet? The thing that makes whatever one chooses to do great, though, is not that they think it's great, but that it be great for the person (or people, or charities, etc.) on the receiving end.
Now, I don't know yet what great thing I want to do. This is all just starting to formulate in my bean. T has been picking up clothes & backpaks for our youth group to distribute to homeless people in the area, but since she drops the items off at church while I'm at work, I don't really have much of a hand in things. I want to be a little more directly involved in something. I need to put some thought into this.
So, what do you think, Loyal Readers? Does this sound like a worthy cause? Can you think of great things that you can do? Let me know your thoughts on this. My site's too far under the radar to get the idea out, so pass the word around on your sites or just tell someone you know. Just think about what could be done if we all decided to do something great.
We can't let Paris & her ilk have all the fun, can we?
A Note To Exhibitionist Celebrities
Dear Scott Stapp, Kid Rock, Pamela Anderson, Colin Farrell, Paris Hilton & any other of you brainiacs with opposable thumbs & a video recorder -
STOP TAPING YOUR PRIVATE MOMENTS & THEN PITCHING A FIT WHEN THE TAPE LEAKS OUT TO THE PUBLIC!!!
Yeesh! Use a little common sense, people. And if you don't have any common sense, then buy some. Or pay someone to think for you. Just do something. Anything!
Dorks...
Sincerely,
Jay
Dear Scott Stapp, Kid Rock, Pamela Anderson, Colin Farrell, Paris Hilton & any other of you brainiacs with opposable thumbs & a video recorder -
STOP TAPING YOUR PRIVATE MOMENTS & THEN PITCHING A FIT WHEN THE TAPE LEAKS OUT TO THE PUBLIC!!!
Yeesh! Use a little common sense, people. And if you don't have any common sense, then buy some. Or pay someone to think for you. Just do something. Anything!
Dorks...
Sincerely,
Jay
Happy Holidays, Australia & New Zealand!
As I turned my calendar to March this morning, I noticed that Australia & New Zealand have, between the two of them, 10 holidays or days of note this month. They have the following:
3/1/06 - First Day of Autumn (AUS & NZ)
3/6/06 - Labour Day (AUS-WA)
3/13/06 - Commonwealth Day (AUS & NZ)
Labour Day (AUS-Vic)
Eight Hours Day (AUS-Tas)
Taranaki Anniversary (NZ)
3/19/06 - Daylight Saving Time ends (NZ)
3/20/06 - Canberra Day (AUS-ACT)
Otago Anniversary (NZ)
3/26/06 - Daylight Saving Time ends (AUS)
We have the following:
3/17/06 - St. Patrick's Day
So, in the month of March, Australia & New Zealand observe the changing of seasons, historical (I'm assuming) anniversaries, the working man, their countries & manmade time changes.
On the other side of the planet, we celebrate public drunkenness with green beer.
Way to go, America.
As I turned my calendar to March this morning, I noticed that Australia & New Zealand have, between the two of them, 10 holidays or days of note this month. They have the following:
3/1/06 - First Day of Autumn (AUS & NZ)
3/6/06 - Labour Day (AUS-WA)
3/13/06 - Commonwealth Day (AUS & NZ)
Labour Day (AUS-Vic)
Eight Hours Day (AUS-Tas)
Taranaki Anniversary (NZ)
3/19/06 - Daylight Saving Time ends (NZ)
3/20/06 - Canberra Day (AUS-ACT)
Otago Anniversary (NZ)
3/26/06 - Daylight Saving Time ends (AUS)
We have the following:
3/17/06 - St. Patrick's Day
So, in the month of March, Australia & New Zealand observe the changing of seasons, historical (I'm assuming) anniversaries, the working man, their countries & manmade time changes.
On the other side of the planet, we celebrate public drunkenness with green beer.
Way to go, America.
Monday, February 27, 2006
Does Not Play Well With Others
The following is a tale so chilling - so frightening - so...so...terrifying, that it is only now, some months after the events have unfolded, that the story can be told.
Alright...it's actually a post from December that I never got around to putting up.
Happy now?
Killjoys...
I've come to the conclusion that people annoy the crap out of me.
No, really.
Why are you laughing?
OK, OK...I know that myall consuming hatred deep dislike of crowds is near legendary. The fact that I hate talking to complete strangers, even for something as simple as asking what time it is (& no, this is not some macho I-don't-need-no-steeenkin'-help-from-nobody thing) is a given. That I cringe at church when they do the turn-&-greet-your-neighbor thing is pretty well known as well.
The story I'm about to relate to you this time, though, Loyal Readers, is not about a merely uncomfortable, close proximity, stuck-in-the-elevator, one-on-one situation. I'm not talking about your run-of-the-mill Market Night crowds, either. I'm talking writhing, seething, undulating masses of people. Times & places where it feels like the entire population of a decent sized metropolis has converged on the very spot that I'm standing. Allow me to elaborate.
T sent me to Maul-Mart one Sunday last Christmas Season with a relatively small list of things needed there. Of course, she knows how much I absolutely loathe the Redlands Maul-Mart, even on a good day. I'd rather be subjected to a muti-part discourse on the effects of pygmy goat molestation on the economy, hosted by a panel consisting of Rita Crosby, Nancy Grace & Jim Cramer (am I the only one who thinks that Rita Crosby looks & sounds like Will Ferrell in drag? Take a good look at her - I defy you to not see the similarities), than go anywhere near Maul-Mart in December. Throw retarded Christmas shoppers into the mix & it's a recipe for disaster.
Anyway, The Boy & I pulled into the parking lot & I decided to take the first available spot (since usually it's an exercise in futility to try to find a parking space close to the entrance) - which was roughly 33 miles from the store. Of course, as we're walking closer to the mouth of Hell, several parking spots became available. The story of my life, Loyal Readers.
One of the things on my to-do list was to drop off film at the 1-hour processor in the store. After seeing the 10 people deep line there, I made the executive decision to go somewhere else for my photo developing needs (I believe my exact declaration was "Screw this!") & proceeded to the cart corral - only to find that every single cart in the place was gone. The Boy went out to retrieve one while I made a pitstop. I walked into the l'il pardners room, only to find about 5-7 other patrons in there. I went about my business as quickly as possible, all the while cursing the store under my breath. I made my way back only to find that The Boy still hadn't returned with a cart. A couple minutes later, he showed up, saying that he had to go clear down to the garden department to find one. Having finally acquired our chariot, we made our way into the fray.
Of course, we could only move about 3 paces & then had to stop while someone stopped to look at a bubblegum display on an endcap.
Our first stop was the pharmacy. It's here that I found out that the Maul-Mart pharmacy closes at 5p on Sundays. And they also stop processing prescriptions at about 4p. This was unpleasant news for the gentleman in front of me, who made it clear to the pharmacist that he had to have this prescription today. No amount of telling this man "No, we can't get this filled tonight" would sway him (somehow, I get the feeling that, since doctors are closed on Sundays, he'd probably had the prescription order since Friday!). Almost ready to admit defeat, but still trying to persuade the tech to fill his order, I took the initiative & suggested that he go to one of the local 24-frickin'-hour pharmacies scattered about the area.
I finally made it to the counter & handed the tech my prescription slip & told her that I understood that it couldn't be filled tonight, that my wife would come back on the next day to pick it up. At this point, they could've filled the prescription with Tic-Tac's & I would've been happy (since this was T's birth control, I doubt she would've shared my elation. Her breath would've been minty fresh, though.).
After grabbing the few items that we came for, we made our way back to the front of the store to check out. We were greeted with lines that were, no kidding, about 10 people deep. So, with a second "Screw this!", we made our way to the electronics department, looking for a shorter line & a quick exit from shopping Hell. We walked in to the extremely small department, only to find another line 10 people deep.
It was at this exact moment that you could hear something snap inside of me. My eye started twitching. I started speaking in tongues. I was frothing at the mouth. If I could've done it (which I believe that, at the time, I could've), I would've squirted fire. I was ready to commit several major felonies against the shoppers at Maul-Mart.
As I tried to turn around to get out, at least 3 times someone shoved a cart in my way. At that point, in a Hulk-like fury, I literally lifted the cart & swung it around in an attempt to leave the electronics department. If I would've had the room, I'm sure I could've lifted the cart over my head & flung it clear into the tire department.
With The Boy trying to keep up behind me, telling me that I needed to calm down (which probably wasn't the most opportune time to point that out to me), we made our way to the sporting goods department. I was going to get out of that place with my White Cloud toilet paper, dagnabbit, even if I had to go to every friggin' department to find a short line!
We made it back to sporting goods to find a line of about 3 people, which was, given the crowds at the other lines, quite doable. Shaking with rage, I made my way up to the counter, eyeing the shotguns & imagining all of the line-clearing mayhem one of those babies could inflict. As I unloaded my cart, I said to the clerk "I'll bet you hear this all the time, but I really hate this place." "I hear that all the time from people who work here," he replied. "Yes," I said,"but at least you get paid to be here!"
incidentally, The Boy & I went to Target to develop our film. While there was a bit of a Christmas rush going on there, I still managed to get my film & T's present without once feeling the need to pummel someone.
Or squirt fire.
Which, when you think about it, is a very good thing.
The following is a tale so chilling - so frightening - so...so...terrifying, that it is only now, some months after the events have unfolded, that the story can be told.
Alright...it's actually a post from December that I never got around to putting up.
Happy now?
Killjoys...
I've come to the conclusion that people annoy the crap out of me.
No, really.
Why are you laughing?
OK, OK...I know that my
The story I'm about to relate to you this time, though, Loyal Readers, is not about a merely uncomfortable, close proximity, stuck-in-the-elevator, one-on-one situation. I'm not talking about your run-of-the-mill Market Night crowds, either. I'm talking writhing, seething, undulating masses of people. Times & places where it feels like the entire population of a decent sized metropolis has converged on the very spot that I'm standing. Allow me to elaborate.
T sent me to Maul-Mart one Sunday last Christmas Season with a relatively small list of things needed there. Of course, she knows how much I absolutely loathe the Redlands Maul-Mart, even on a good day. I'd rather be subjected to a muti-part discourse on the effects of pygmy goat molestation on the economy, hosted by a panel consisting of Rita Crosby, Nancy Grace & Jim Cramer (am I the only one who thinks that Rita Crosby looks & sounds like Will Ferrell in drag? Take a good look at her - I defy you to not see the similarities), than go anywhere near Maul-Mart in December. Throw retarded Christmas shoppers into the mix & it's a recipe for disaster.
Anyway, The Boy & I pulled into the parking lot & I decided to take the first available spot (since usually it's an exercise in futility to try to find a parking space close to the entrance) - which was roughly 33 miles from the store. Of course, as we're walking closer to the mouth of Hell, several parking spots became available. The story of my life, Loyal Readers.
One of the things on my to-do list was to drop off film at the 1-hour processor in the store. After seeing the 10 people deep line there, I made the executive decision to go somewhere else for my photo developing needs (I believe my exact declaration was "Screw this!") & proceeded to the cart corral - only to find that every single cart in the place was gone. The Boy went out to retrieve one while I made a pitstop. I walked into the l'il pardners room, only to find about 5-7 other patrons in there. I went about my business as quickly as possible, all the while cursing the store under my breath. I made my way back only to find that The Boy still hadn't returned with a cart. A couple minutes later, he showed up, saying that he had to go clear down to the garden department to find one. Having finally acquired our chariot, we made our way into the fray.
Of course, we could only move about 3 paces & then had to stop while someone stopped to look at a bubblegum display on an endcap.
Our first stop was the pharmacy. It's here that I found out that the Maul-Mart pharmacy closes at 5p on Sundays. And they also stop processing prescriptions at about 4p. This was unpleasant news for the gentleman in front of me, who made it clear to the pharmacist that he had to have this prescription today. No amount of telling this man "No, we can't get this filled tonight" would sway him (somehow, I get the feeling that, since doctors are closed on Sundays, he'd probably had the prescription order since Friday!). Almost ready to admit defeat, but still trying to persuade the tech to fill his order, I took the initiative & suggested that he go to one of the local 24-frickin'-hour pharmacies scattered about the area.
I finally made it to the counter & handed the tech my prescription slip & told her that I understood that it couldn't be filled tonight, that my wife would come back on the next day to pick it up. At this point, they could've filled the prescription with Tic-Tac's & I would've been happy (since this was T's birth control, I doubt she would've shared my elation. Her breath would've been minty fresh, though.).
After grabbing the few items that we came for, we made our way back to the front of the store to check out. We were greeted with lines that were, no kidding, about 10 people deep. So, with a second "Screw this!", we made our way to the electronics department, looking for a shorter line & a quick exit from shopping Hell. We walked in to the extremely small department, only to find another line 10 people deep.
It was at this exact moment that you could hear something snap inside of me. My eye started twitching. I started speaking in tongues. I was frothing at the mouth. If I could've done it (which I believe that, at the time, I could've), I would've squirted fire. I was ready to commit several major felonies against the shoppers at Maul-Mart.
As I tried to turn around to get out, at least 3 times someone shoved a cart in my way. At that point, in a Hulk-like fury, I literally lifted the cart & swung it around in an attempt to leave the electronics department. If I would've had the room, I'm sure I could've lifted the cart over my head & flung it clear into the tire department.
With The Boy trying to keep up behind me, telling me that I needed to calm down (which probably wasn't the most opportune time to point that out to me), we made our way to the sporting goods department. I was going to get out of that place with my White Cloud toilet paper, dagnabbit, even if I had to go to every friggin' department to find a short line!
We made it back to sporting goods to find a line of about 3 people, which was, given the crowds at the other lines, quite doable. Shaking with rage, I made my way up to the counter, eyeing the shotguns & imagining all of the line-clearing mayhem one of those babies could inflict. As I unloaded my cart, I said to the clerk "I'll bet you hear this all the time, but I really hate this place." "I hear that all the time from people who work here," he replied. "Yes," I said,"but at least you get paid to be here!"
incidentally, The Boy & I went to Target to develop our film. While there was a bit of a Christmas rush going on there, I still managed to get my film & T's present without once feeling the need to pummel someone.
Or squirt fire.
Which, when you think about it, is a very good thing.
Saturday, February 18, 2006
My Mind Is Truly A Strange Place
I opened up my Yahoo! homepage this morning. The following headlines were stacked one on top of the other:
Ministers forced out as cartoon row escalates
Hamas takes over Palestinian parliament
Not looking very closely at the headlines, my mind read the two as:
Hamsters take over Palestinian parliament
I opened up my Yahoo! homepage this morning. The following headlines were stacked one on top of the other:
Ministers forced out as cartoon row escalates
Hamas takes over Palestinian parliament
Not looking very closely at the headlines, my mind read the two as:
Hamsters take over Palestinian parliament
Sunday, February 12, 2006
The Alan Jackson Five
I'm thinking this might be an error. Then again, the Jackson family is pretty big...
I'm thinking this might be an error. Then again, the Jackson family is pretty big...
Thursday, February 09, 2006
Saturday, February 04, 2006
WWCND?
I had no idea that Chuck Norris' tears cure cancer. I'm a believer now, though - if only because I'm afraid that Chuck Norris will roundhouse kick me in the face.
Chuck Norris Facts (warning: the language on the site is, how you say it? Ah, yes...a little spicy at times. Ye have been warned.)
I had no idea that Chuck Norris' tears cure cancer. I'm a believer now, though - if only because I'm afraid that Chuck Norris will roundhouse kick me in the face.
Chuck Norris Facts (warning: the language on the site is, how you say it? Ah, yes...a little spicy at times. Ye have been warned.)
Friday, January 13, 2006
Dude, The Walls Are Melting!
Today I found out that a white chocolate mocha with a grand total of four (four!) shots of espresso is the caffeinated equivalent of speed.
If you heard a "pop/splat" sound this morning, that would've been my heart shooting out of my chest at about Warp 10 & hitting the wall in front of me.
Today I found out that a white chocolate mocha with a grand total of four (four!) shots of espresso is the caffeinated equivalent of speed.
If you heard a "pop/splat" sound this morning, that would've been my heart shooting out of my chest at about Warp 10 & hitting the wall in front of me.
Sunday, January 01, 2006
2005 - The Year In Highlights
Didn't I just post one of these? It seems like only a short time ago that I was tweaking my '04 year in review. I know that they say time flies as you get older, but this is frickin' ridiculous.
Anyway, let me present to you "'05 - The Year In Review":
February brought us a visit from T's friend Donna, in from New Jersey. This visit was highlighted by the fact that not only was it Donna's first time visiting us out here, but it was also the tailend of the second rainiest season on record. It literally rained every single day that she was here. So much for "Sunny California." And the convertible she rented to take in the aforementioned sun.
April was started off celebrating The Boy's birthday. He opted to have a bounce house for he & his friends. This was all well & good until one particular child invited himself & proceeded to throw blind, screaming conniption fits every time someone looked at him funny. Of course, this all went on while the child's father stood on his patio, drink in hand. I know few better candidates for forced sterilization.
The beginning of May heralded T & my one year anniversary (a year & a half later & I still loves ya, babe :) ). This was celebrated with a trip to the Aquarium of the Pacific in Long Beach, a harbor cruise & lunch up in Lake Arrowhead the next day.
May also brought the long awaited conclusion to the "Star Wars" saga. Noooooooo!!!
With June came Father's Day &, at the end of the month, a late Father's Day present: a trip down to Largo in Hollyweird to see Grant Lee Phillips perform. It was awesome! A small, intimate setting meant that every seat was close. A great, great show!
June also meant seeing "Madagascar," which kicked off a lifetime of having "I like to move it, move it..." stuck in my head.
We saw "Batman Begins" somewhere around here, too. That movie totally wiped out the bad taste left from the previous Batman movies. Excellent, excellent, excellent!
July started off with a bang - literally. The local high school puts on a Fourth of July spectacular every year & since our patio & bedroom window face the school, we get a great fireworks extravaganza from the comfort of our own home. As much as I hate the apartment complex we live in, there are a few perks to it.
Toward the middle of the month, we made a trip up to Tulare for a family reunion/60th wedding anniversary party for a cousin on my mom's side, Nadine & her husband. It was good to see them again, although we kind of felt like party crashers during the reunion part of the soiree, as everyone there were distant, distant, diiiiiistant cousins.
The latter part of the month included a trip to Angel Stadium for Harvest '05, hosted by Greg Laurie & Harvest Ministries. The stadium was packed from floor to rafter (48,000 people!) & we found out, the hard way, that Angel Stadium has approximately 578 million miles of walkways leading you to the nosebleed seats. We got to see Kutless, Jeremy Camp & The Boy's favorite, Toby Mac. Well, we got to see them through the girders from behind the stage, as we were sitting to the rear of the platform. At least they had everything up on the jumbotrons.
It was at this event that The Boy made a commitment to Christ, as well. Good on ya, son! We're soooo proud of you!
By the very end of the month on into the first of August, we found ourselves heading out to Kingman, AZ to see Donna again. And it rained for most of the drive through the Mojave Desert & back. I'm thinking that Donna must've torqued off some indians at some point in her life & they cursed her or something.
A week later, we trekked on up the state to visit my dad, aunt & uncle. Aside from getting lost in the woods & some creepy little Stephen King-esque town that we narrowly escaped from, we had a wonderful time (& Northern California is beautiful). It was good to see everyone (some cousins - hi Tom & Kim! - that I hadn't seen since I was three). Thanks for the hospitality, Aunt Marge & Uncle Neil!
August also brought with it T's birthday. Happy birthday, Beautiful! Here's to many, many more!
October started off with a visit from T's parents, who stayed with us for a couple weeks & then headed on out to Florida to continue their 2005 nationwide tour. My dad also made his way on down to SoCal & had the opportunity to meet the in-laws. Our dads got along well & spent time swapping stories about being poor as kids.
Somebody had a birthday in the middle of all of this, too. Hmm, I wonder who?
Later in the month, we went to Azusa (A to Z in the USA!) to my cousin Dyan's new home to celebrate her mom's (my Aunt Olive) birthday. I never knew about all of the many accomplishments that Aunt Olive has acheived during her lifetime (was adopted as a child, took up scuba diving at 50, went back to college at 60, enjoys auto racing, just to name a few things). She's quite an inspirational person. And she makes a mean prime rib. Here I again was able to see cousins that I hadn't seen since I was a toddler (hi Ted & Tim!). It was good to see Dyan again, as well. I'm hoping that we all won't be such strangers anymore.
The end of October brought the long awaited, highly anticipated Sleepy Hollow Dance at Riley's Farm in Oak Glen, a birthday gift to me. The night was a blast! As Washington Irving's "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow" is my all time most favorite Halloween story (possibly my most favorite short story, period), it was so much fun to be immersed in the story, with everyone dressed up in colonial period costumes & all. The food was excellent & T & I had a ball hay riding, seed spitting & dancing. I had never squaredanced before or taken part in a hoedown. Given that my usual dancing can best be described as looking like an epileptic at a strobelight convention, I think I did pretty good. I was able to dance with Ichabod Crane, Brom Bones & the fair Katrina van Tassel, as well. The night was capped off by a ride through the Hollow by the Headless Horseman himself, which was soooo cool until somebody freaked the horse out with their camera flash. Thus ended the ride of the Headless Hessian of Sleepy Hollow. I can't stress it enough - if you live nearby or are in the area in late October, go to the dance at Riley's.
Thanksgiving was celebrated at my sister's house this year. T got to meet a few more members of the extended family (she's been busy meeting family this year) & a good, filling time was had by all. Afterward, we headed on down to another uncle's house (yet another that T hadn't met) & spent some time catching up with him.
The end of November took us back to Arkansas for Thanksmas '05 (thanks to the lovely & fair ETS & Amy for watching the place while I was out gallavanting - you ladies are the best!). While there, we went to T's old Bible study group, then went to a party thrown in our honor by Jenny (muchos thank you's!) & then the whole family descended on T's parent's home for the Thanksmas festivities. Though it was freakin' cold while we were there, we still had a wonderful time. It's so nice to get away from the hustle & bustle of SoCal living. One slightly longer than planned trip back home (lousy extended layover in Atlanta) & it was back to the grind. I so look forward to the time when we can move back there.
The rest of December has been busy for T. Ah, the joys of working in retail. The weekend before Christmas, we shuffled on down to Riverside to see the lights at the Mission Inn. There were thousands of people milling around, but still, it was nice. It makes it feel a wee bit more like Christmas seeing all the decorations. Christmas was a quiet family affair with just T, The Boy & myself (we're doing the big family get together in January when Mom returns from Utah). T made a wonderful Christmas ham dinner, which was supposed to be enjoyed by just the three of us, but was instead consumed with the help of three of The Boy's friends, which made for a nice, if full & a wee bit noisy, meal.
So, that's it.
All in all, not a bad year. From the look of it, it was a very busy year, but I thoroughly enjoyed it. It's been fun seeing new places & sharing experiences with T & The Boy. And it's been nice sharing those experiences with you, Loyal Readers. I know that the writing has been a little scarce lately, but what there has been...well, it's been a pleasure sharing the various moments in my life with all of you. To my three or four Loyal Readers, I thank you for checking in from time to time on My Little Corner of the Web. And to the newer lurkers that I see popping up here from time to time, I thank you for your patronage, as well (Don't be shy. Tell me who you are. There are plenty of seats in the Loyal Reader section of this site.).
I've read many times that blogs are meant for the writer's gratification & that they aren't writing for the reader's sake. To an extent, that's true. The topics that I write about are things that interest me. But, I want them to be things that interest you, as well, my Loyal Readers & lurkers. I want, at least some of the things I write, to make you laugh, to maybe make you think & to be somewhat entertaining. I hope that I've acheived that, to some extent, over this past year. And if I haven't?
Well, there's always next year.
Didn't I just post one of these? It seems like only a short time ago that I was tweaking my '04 year in review. I know that they say time flies as you get older, but this is frickin' ridiculous.
Anyway, let me present to you "'05 - The Year In Review":
February brought us a visit from T's friend Donna, in from New Jersey. This visit was highlighted by the fact that not only was it Donna's first time visiting us out here, but it was also the tailend of the second rainiest season on record. It literally rained every single day that she was here. So much for "Sunny California." And the convertible she rented to take in the aforementioned sun.
April was started off celebrating The Boy's birthday. He opted to have a bounce house for he & his friends. This was all well & good until one particular child invited himself & proceeded to throw blind, screaming conniption fits every time someone looked at him funny. Of course, this all went on while the child's father stood on his patio, drink in hand. I know few better candidates for forced sterilization.
The beginning of May heralded T & my one year anniversary (a year & a half later & I still loves ya, babe :) ). This was celebrated with a trip to the Aquarium of the Pacific in Long Beach, a harbor cruise & lunch up in Lake Arrowhead the next day.
May also brought the long awaited conclusion to the "Star Wars" saga. Noooooooo!!!
With June came Father's Day &, at the end of the month, a late Father's Day present: a trip down to Largo in Hollyweird to see Grant Lee Phillips perform. It was awesome! A small, intimate setting meant that every seat was close. A great, great show!
June also meant seeing "Madagascar," which kicked off a lifetime of having "I like to move it, move it..." stuck in my head.
We saw "Batman Begins" somewhere around here, too. That movie totally wiped out the bad taste left from the previous Batman movies. Excellent, excellent, excellent!
July started off with a bang - literally. The local high school puts on a Fourth of July spectacular every year & since our patio & bedroom window face the school, we get a great fireworks extravaganza from the comfort of our own home. As much as I hate the apartment complex we live in, there are a few perks to it.
Toward the middle of the month, we made a trip up to Tulare for a family reunion/60th wedding anniversary party for a cousin on my mom's side, Nadine & her husband. It was good to see them again, although we kind of felt like party crashers during the reunion part of the soiree, as everyone there were distant, distant, diiiiiistant cousins.
The latter part of the month included a trip to Angel Stadium for Harvest '05, hosted by Greg Laurie & Harvest Ministries. The stadium was packed from floor to rafter (48,000 people!) & we found out, the hard way, that Angel Stadium has approximately 578 million miles of walkways leading you to the nosebleed seats. We got to see Kutless, Jeremy Camp & The Boy's favorite, Toby Mac. Well, we got to see them through the girders from behind the stage, as we were sitting to the rear of the platform. At least they had everything up on the jumbotrons.
It was at this event that The Boy made a commitment to Christ, as well. Good on ya, son! We're soooo proud of you!
By the very end of the month on into the first of August, we found ourselves heading out to Kingman, AZ to see Donna again. And it rained for most of the drive through the Mojave Desert & back. I'm thinking that Donna must've torqued off some indians at some point in her life & they cursed her or something.
A week later, we trekked on up the state to visit my dad, aunt & uncle. Aside from getting lost in the woods & some creepy little Stephen King-esque town that we narrowly escaped from, we had a wonderful time (& Northern California is beautiful). It was good to see everyone (some cousins - hi Tom & Kim! - that I hadn't seen since I was three). Thanks for the hospitality, Aunt Marge & Uncle Neil!
August also brought with it T's birthday. Happy birthday, Beautiful! Here's to many, many more!
October started off with a visit from T's parents, who stayed with us for a couple weeks & then headed on out to Florida to continue their 2005 nationwide tour. My dad also made his way on down to SoCal & had the opportunity to meet the in-laws. Our dads got along well & spent time swapping stories about being poor as kids.
Somebody had a birthday in the middle of all of this, too. Hmm, I wonder who?
Later in the month, we went to Azusa (A to Z in the USA!) to my cousin Dyan's new home to celebrate her mom's (my Aunt Olive) birthday. I never knew about all of the many accomplishments that Aunt Olive has acheived during her lifetime (was adopted as a child, took up scuba diving at 50, went back to college at 60, enjoys auto racing, just to name a few things). She's quite an inspirational person. And she makes a mean prime rib. Here I again was able to see cousins that I hadn't seen since I was a toddler (hi Ted & Tim!). It was good to see Dyan again, as well. I'm hoping that we all won't be such strangers anymore.
The end of October brought the long awaited, highly anticipated Sleepy Hollow Dance at Riley's Farm in Oak Glen, a birthday gift to me. The night was a blast! As Washington Irving's "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow" is my all time most favorite Halloween story (possibly my most favorite short story, period), it was so much fun to be immersed in the story, with everyone dressed up in colonial period costumes & all. The food was excellent & T & I had a ball hay riding, seed spitting & dancing. I had never squaredanced before or taken part in a hoedown. Given that my usual dancing can best be described as looking like an epileptic at a strobelight convention, I think I did pretty good. I was able to dance with Ichabod Crane, Brom Bones & the fair Katrina van Tassel, as well. The night was capped off by a ride through the Hollow by the Headless Horseman himself, which was soooo cool until somebody freaked the horse out with their camera flash. Thus ended the ride of the Headless Hessian of Sleepy Hollow. I can't stress it enough - if you live nearby or are in the area in late October, go to the dance at Riley's.
Thanksgiving was celebrated at my sister's house this year. T got to meet a few more members of the extended family (she's been busy meeting family this year) & a good, filling time was had by all. Afterward, we headed on down to another uncle's house (yet another that T hadn't met) & spent some time catching up with him.
The end of November took us back to Arkansas for Thanksmas '05 (thanks to the lovely & fair ETS & Amy for watching the place while I was out gallavanting - you ladies are the best!). While there, we went to T's old Bible study group, then went to a party thrown in our honor by Jenny (muchos thank you's!) & then the whole family descended on T's parent's home for the Thanksmas festivities. Though it was freakin' cold while we were there, we still had a wonderful time. It's so nice to get away from the hustle & bustle of SoCal living. One slightly longer than planned trip back home (lousy extended layover in Atlanta) & it was back to the grind. I so look forward to the time when we can move back there.
The rest of December has been busy for T. Ah, the joys of working in retail. The weekend before Christmas, we shuffled on down to Riverside to see the lights at the Mission Inn. There were thousands of people milling around, but still, it was nice. It makes it feel a wee bit more like Christmas seeing all the decorations. Christmas was a quiet family affair with just T, The Boy & myself (we're doing the big family get together in January when Mom returns from Utah). T made a wonderful Christmas ham dinner, which was supposed to be enjoyed by just the three of us, but was instead consumed with the help of three of The Boy's friends, which made for a nice, if full & a wee bit noisy, meal.
So, that's it.
All in all, not a bad year. From the look of it, it was a very busy year, but I thoroughly enjoyed it. It's been fun seeing new places & sharing experiences with T & The Boy. And it's been nice sharing those experiences with you, Loyal Readers. I know that the writing has been a little scarce lately, but what there has been...well, it's been a pleasure sharing the various moments in my life with all of you. To my three or four Loyal Readers, I thank you for checking in from time to time on My Little Corner of the Web. And to the newer lurkers that I see popping up here from time to time, I thank you for your patronage, as well (Don't be shy. Tell me who you are. There are plenty of seats in the Loyal Reader section of this site.).
I've read many times that blogs are meant for the writer's gratification & that they aren't writing for the reader's sake. To an extent, that's true. The topics that I write about are things that interest me. But, I want them to be things that interest you, as well, my Loyal Readers & lurkers. I want, at least some of the things I write, to make you laugh, to maybe make you think & to be somewhat entertaining. I hope that I've acheived that, to some extent, over this past year. And if I haven't?
Well, there's always next year.
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