Today I give you one of my favorite poems, from one of my favorite poets. I wish you all a day of deep reflection on this, Good Friday, and a joyous day of fellowship and blessing come Sunday. He is risen, indeed!
Beneath Thy Cross
Am I a stone, and not a sheep,
That I can stand, O Christ, beneath Thy cross,
To number drop by drop Thy Blood's slow loss,
And yet not weep?
Not so those women loved
Who with exceeding grief lamented Thee;
Not so fallen Peter weeping bitterly;
Not so the thief was moved;
Not so the Sun and Moon
Which hid their faces in a starless sky,
A horror of great darkness at broad noon --
I, only I.
Yet give not o'er,
But seek Thy sheep, true Shepherd of the flock;
Greater than Moses, turn and look once more
And smite a rock.
- Christina Rossetti
Friday, March 25, 2005
Thursday, March 17, 2005
Ow! Stop it. This shirt IS green!!!
I'm neither Irish nor Catholic -- nor do I have any desire to go out and get liquored up and do things I'll regret -- so St. Patrick's Day is kind of wasted on me. I do wear green, of course, but that's mostly out of a desire to avoid pinch-happy (and often, conveniently colorblind) smart alecks.
But I was curious about the holiday today, so I Googled it. Now, I don't typically endorse the History Channel as an authoritative source of knowledge when it comes to Christianity or the church in any sense (I've read a few things by the alleged "scholars" they tend to interview exclusively on these topics), but they seem have a decent piece on their website today about St. Patrick himself and the history of St. Patrick's Day.
I'm making a concerted effort to listen to Irish musicians today, too. Yes, of course, everyone knows U2 (Arrow93 FM is playing their songs all day as well as giving away tickets to their upcoming sold-out concerts, in case you're interested), but I'm also a fan of the singer/songwriter acts, traditional Irish music groups and the lively "jig-punk" or "Celtic rock & roll" bands. Take a listen to The Chieftains, The Young Dubliners or The Prodigals today, if you can. And if you're in the mood to cry into your pint of watered-down green beer, immerse yourself in Dillon O'Brian's Irish-pathos-ridden "My Father's Son," a snippet of which follows:
I want you to love me
I want to be your golden one
But I can only be
My father's son
I want you to know me
I don't want to hide or run
But I will always be
My father's son
Have a happy and SAFE (designate a driver, please) St. Patrick's Day, everybody!
But I was curious about the holiday today, so I Googled it. Now, I don't typically endorse the History Channel as an authoritative source of knowledge when it comes to Christianity or the church in any sense (I've read a few things by the alleged "scholars" they tend to interview exclusively on these topics), but they seem have a decent piece on their website today about St. Patrick himself and the history of St. Patrick's Day.
I'm making a concerted effort to listen to Irish musicians today, too. Yes, of course, everyone knows U2 (Arrow93 FM is playing their songs all day as well as giving away tickets to their upcoming sold-out concerts, in case you're interested), but I'm also a fan of the singer/songwriter acts, traditional Irish music groups and the lively "jig-punk" or "Celtic rock & roll" bands. Take a listen to The Chieftains, The Young Dubliners or The Prodigals today, if you can. And if you're in the mood to cry into your pint of watered-down green beer, immerse yourself in Dillon O'Brian's Irish-pathos-ridden "My Father's Son," a snippet of which follows:
I want you to love me
I want to be your golden one
But I can only be
My father's son
I want you to know me
I don't want to hide or run
But I will always be
My father's son
Have a happy and SAFE (designate a driver, please) St. Patrick's Day, everybody!
Wednesday, March 09, 2005
The End is Near
That's it, we're thinking. All things are coming to a head.
Sure, sure -- wars and rumors of wars, earthquakes, mudslides, tsunamis, crazy happenings of biblical proportions, all of that. But that's not all.
Over the course of the last year -- and with increasing frequency in the last month or so -- Amy and I have experienced a number of strange occurrences that seem to be moments of closure, re-emergences of things and people from the past, or answers to long-unsolved mysteries.
People we haven't seen in years find us. People we haven't seen in years, and for whom we have been actively searching, suddenly appear in places we'd already thoroughly searched. And today...well, this one requires some backstory. Here's a little piece I wrote about a crazy lady by whom Amy and I are fascinated (and with whom we are, I'll say it, mildly obsessed):
***
September 2003
I'm sitting happily anonymous in the Koo Koo Roo at lunch today, next to the window, by myself, and wondering what to write about. From the numerous brief moments of eye contact I've had with the usual crowd of muscledudes, firefighters and junior suits, I consider writing about how it must be socially acceptable to stare openly at people who are eating unaccompanied at lunchtime in Southern California.
I glance outside at the people sitting around the umbrella-covered tables, and she catches my eye. Alice.
Alice is my favorite checker at the drug store. Small and mousy, probably in her mid-to-late forties, a little crazy in an "I'm trying desperately to hold it all together, but it's kinda leaking out of me" sort of way. She always mutters, laughs nervously. No eye contact. She announces the prices of things as she scans them:
"Dollar fifty -- that's a great price. Two-nineteen on sale this week, not bad. Seven ninety-nine, not bad, not bad. Not *good*...."
Amy and I have both, on separate occasions, seen her walking in our neighborhood or waiting at a bus stop at the bottom of the hill. We both have been more than tempted to offer her a ride somewhere, or just to follow her stealthily to satisfy our curiosity about her dwelling place and its proximity to ours. House? Apartment? Cardboard box on the bluff? Of course, our better judgment has ruled that doing either of those things would only fuel her skittishness, so we've refrained. But we talk about her as if someday, someday....
I always see Alice alone, and I wonder about her life. If she's lonely. If she has friends, or sisters. If she's ever been in love. If she works at Sav-on because she can get a good discount on her medications. If she knows what she's missing, or if she's missing anything at all.
I have these elaborate fantasies about befriending her. Somehow, though, I can never bring myself to do it. Once, at the very crowded Coffee Bean, I saw her standing in line to order as I was waiting for my ice-blended. Someone two people ahead of her answered his cell phone and began to have a conversation. This angered her. She began espousing her thoughts, full-volume to everyone and yet to no one in particular, on how rude it is to talk on a cell phone in public. How rude, how intrusive, how distasteful, how disrespectful!
How very semi-controlled she was, with little tributaries of the angry river just under her skin breaking through to the surface and dripping out of her. She walked over to where I was half-praying for a quick "here's your drink" and a hasty retreat, and half-curiously-hoping she would address me and sense who I was.
She stood next to me. There was little room anyplace else. And without looking at me, she continued her rant, seemingly expecting me to chime in and agree, though I couldn't possibly have inserted a single word into the stream of her opinion. Finally, someone distracted her just as the barista called my name, and I was able to escape. The whole time I had been wondering what she would have done had I said, "Isn't your name Alice? You're my favorite checker at Sav-on; I always choose your checkstand no matter how long the line is."
She would have freaked out and killed me with a knife, I'm almost sure of it.
But there she is again today, looking different. Almost normal. She must just be out running errands, because she's dressed up, wearing a long beige-and-white plaid skirt and a sweater, instead of the telltale blue smock.
Could it be she's with other people for once? I see her talking to someone, even happily. Smiling, still somehow with that slight dullness behind her eyes. Who's she talking to?
Some...*guys*...Hollywood hunk-types. Then I see they have a German Shepherd on a leash next to their umbrella-shaded table, and it all makes unfortunate sense. Alice and I have talked about dogs at Sav-on; she loves them.
I was so rooting for her, so genuinely hoping Alice had some good-looking actor friends, perhaps admirers. But she was talking to the dog. Smiling at him. Gently stroking his head.
She's still alone.
But so am I, today, and I wonder what the difference is.
***
So, guess who I met on the street today? That's right. Alice. She was walking in my direction with a big dog, and I saw my opportunity for conversation. "Beautiful dog."
"Thank you. Want to meet him?"
Door open, foot in. I said I recognized her from Sav-on. She said this 125-pound Rottweiler/Australian Shepherd mix named Milo is the dog she always talks about. When I mentioned my involvement with Guide Dogs of America, and that I sometimes puppysit for other people, she asked me if I might be interested in watching Milo for her when she goes on vacation in July.
Hi, total stranger. Please come into my house and take care of my dog four months from now. HUH?!?!?
So, of course, I said it was a possibility. How can I resist looking into this window of her life, at her invitation? She now has my cell phone number. Am I playing a dangerous game? We shall see. I hope she calls; I want to see where she lives.
I'll bet she collects Hummels.
Of course, I immediately called Amy (far enough out of Alice's range to avoid any unwanted cell phone rant on her part). "The end is near," I said. "I just talked to the Sav-on Lady."
Sure, sure -- wars and rumors of wars, earthquakes, mudslides, tsunamis, crazy happenings of biblical proportions, all of that. But that's not all.
Over the course of the last year -- and with increasing frequency in the last month or so -- Amy and I have experienced a number of strange occurrences that seem to be moments of closure, re-emergences of things and people from the past, or answers to long-unsolved mysteries.
People we haven't seen in years find us. People we haven't seen in years, and for whom we have been actively searching, suddenly appear in places we'd already thoroughly searched. And today...well, this one requires some backstory. Here's a little piece I wrote about a crazy lady by whom Amy and I are fascinated (and with whom we are, I'll say it, mildly obsessed):
***
September 2003
I'm sitting happily anonymous in the Koo Koo Roo at lunch today, next to the window, by myself, and wondering what to write about. From the numerous brief moments of eye contact I've had with the usual crowd of muscledudes, firefighters and junior suits, I consider writing about how it must be socially acceptable to stare openly at people who are eating unaccompanied at lunchtime in Southern California.
I glance outside at the people sitting around the umbrella-covered tables, and she catches my eye. Alice.
Alice is my favorite checker at the drug store. Small and mousy, probably in her mid-to-late forties, a little crazy in an "I'm trying desperately to hold it all together, but it's kinda leaking out of me" sort of way. She always mutters, laughs nervously. No eye contact. She announces the prices of things as she scans them:
"Dollar fifty -- that's a great price. Two-nineteen on sale this week, not bad. Seven ninety-nine, not bad, not bad. Not *good*...."
Amy and I have both, on separate occasions, seen her walking in our neighborhood or waiting at a bus stop at the bottom of the hill. We both have been more than tempted to offer her a ride somewhere, or just to follow her stealthily to satisfy our curiosity about her dwelling place and its proximity to ours. House? Apartment? Cardboard box on the bluff? Of course, our better judgment has ruled that doing either of those things would only fuel her skittishness, so we've refrained. But we talk about her as if someday, someday....
I always see Alice alone, and I wonder about her life. If she's lonely. If she has friends, or sisters. If she's ever been in love. If she works at Sav-on because she can get a good discount on her medications. If she knows what she's missing, or if she's missing anything at all.
I have these elaborate fantasies about befriending her. Somehow, though, I can never bring myself to do it. Once, at the very crowded Coffee Bean, I saw her standing in line to order as I was waiting for my ice-blended. Someone two people ahead of her answered his cell phone and began to have a conversation. This angered her. She began espousing her thoughts, full-volume to everyone and yet to no one in particular, on how rude it is to talk on a cell phone in public. How rude, how intrusive, how distasteful, how disrespectful!
How very semi-controlled she was, with little tributaries of the angry river just under her skin breaking through to the surface and dripping out of her. She walked over to where I was half-praying for a quick "here's your drink" and a hasty retreat, and half-curiously-hoping she would address me and sense who I was.
She stood next to me. There was little room anyplace else. And without looking at me, she continued her rant, seemingly expecting me to chime in and agree, though I couldn't possibly have inserted a single word into the stream of her opinion. Finally, someone distracted her just as the barista called my name, and I was able to escape. The whole time I had been wondering what she would have done had I said, "Isn't your name Alice? You're my favorite checker at Sav-on; I always choose your checkstand no matter how long the line is."
She would have freaked out and killed me with a knife, I'm almost sure of it.
But there she is again today, looking different. Almost normal. She must just be out running errands, because she's dressed up, wearing a long beige-and-white plaid skirt and a sweater, instead of the telltale blue smock.
Could it be she's with other people for once? I see her talking to someone, even happily. Smiling, still somehow with that slight dullness behind her eyes. Who's she talking to?
Some...*guys*...Hollywood hunk-types. Then I see they have a German Shepherd on a leash next to their umbrella-shaded table, and it all makes unfortunate sense. Alice and I have talked about dogs at Sav-on; she loves them.
I was so rooting for her, so genuinely hoping Alice had some good-looking actor friends, perhaps admirers. But she was talking to the dog. Smiling at him. Gently stroking his head.
She's still alone.
But so am I, today, and I wonder what the difference is.
***
So, guess who I met on the street today? That's right. Alice. She was walking in my direction with a big dog, and I saw my opportunity for conversation. "Beautiful dog."
"Thank you. Want to meet him?"
Door open, foot in. I said I recognized her from Sav-on. She said this 125-pound Rottweiler/Australian Shepherd mix named Milo is the dog she always talks about. When I mentioned my involvement with Guide Dogs of America, and that I sometimes puppysit for other people, she asked me if I might be interested in watching Milo for her when she goes on vacation in July.
Hi, total stranger. Please come into my house and take care of my dog four months from now. HUH?!?!?
So, of course, I said it was a possibility. How can I resist looking into this window of her life, at her invitation? She now has my cell phone number. Am I playing a dangerous game? We shall see. I hope she calls; I want to see where she lives.
I'll bet she collects Hummels.
Of course, I immediately called Amy (far enough out of Alice's range to avoid any unwanted cell phone rant on her part). "The end is near," I said. "I just talked to the Sav-on Lady."
Saturday, March 05, 2005
The Birthday Avenger
My dear friend James gave me endless grief when I turned thirty: the jokes, the comments, the intimations that I might know more about the Old Testament than I'm letting on.
So here we are, two years later. Look who turned up on James' front porch this morning with a bag full of handy products such as hemorrhoid cream and denture adhesive.
So here we are, two years later. Look who turned up on James' front porch this morning with a bag full of handy products such as hemorrhoid cream and denture adhesive.
Wednesday, March 02, 2005
FREE ICE CREAM Public Service Announcement!
Hey -- did you guys know that today (March 2, 2005) is Yahoo!'s tenth birthday? To celebrate, they're giving away FREE ICE CREAM to their members. Seriously! If you have a Yahoo! account, you can print a coupon (good today only) for a free scoop of Baskin-Robbins ice cream.
Oh, look at the time. I have to go...um...run a quick errand....
Happy Birthday, Yahoo!
Oh, look at the time. I have to go...um...run a quick errand....
Happy Birthday, Yahoo!
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
A Hip-Hop Public Service Announcement
Some of you may not yet be aware of Gizoogle. It's a...search engine you will simply have to experience fo' yo' ownself. Be sho' to click on "translate page" when you get a good search return, mah brotha.
Meanwhile, in a shocking turn of events, I just read on Yahoo! News: Rapper 50 Cent Feuds With G-Unit Member. Does G-Unit KNOW what's really going on here? I mean, 50 Cent has already terminated Units A through F, and is working his way through the alphabet in an effort to retrieve the "S" that was stolen from the end of his name! Someone stop him before he does it again! Will they never learn?!? G-Unit, run! Run like the wind!!
Meanwhile, in a shocking turn of events, I just read on Yahoo! News: Rapper 50 Cent Feuds With G-Unit Member. Does G-Unit KNOW what's really going on here? I mean, 50 Cent has already terminated Units A through F, and is working his way through the alphabet in an effort to retrieve the "S" that was stolen from the end of his name! Someone stop him before he does it again! Will they never learn?!? G-Unit, run! Run like the wind!!
Monday, February 28, 2005
Swanky
DAY OF THE OSCARS, 3:00pm...Hilary Swank is getting dressed for her big night:
"I can't believe I'm so lucky to have found this fabulous Golden-Age-of-Hollywood-inspired Vera Wang white silk gown! Chad, honey, would you zip me up?"
"Certainly, my dear. Let me just quickly set this 32oz. tumbler full of 100% pomegranate juice precariously on the edge of the vanity next to you...uh-ohhhhhh...."
"Oh, NO! My precious Vera Wang is RUINED!!! Chad, you fool! It's three o'clock, and the only other dress in my closet is a hideous 1980's-era navy blue zipper-front frock made of Lycra!"
"Darling, you'll look stunning in it. It's not the dress that counts -- remember, it's an honor just to be nominated."
"You're right, dearest Chadlo, of course. Now, help me zip up the front."
"Certainly, my love. Wait, there appears to be a small thread caught in a completely unnoticeable place near the bottom of the zipper. Let me just quickly get my pliers and fix that for you...uh-ohhhhhh...."
"Chad, you moron! It won't zip up now, and there's not enough double-stick tape on planet Earth to hold in my million-dollar babies! What am I going to do now?!?"
"Sweetheart, I have an idea that will make you the belle of the ball! Just put it on like this...."
"I can't believe I'm so lucky to have found this fabulous Golden-Age-of-Hollywood-inspired Vera Wang white silk gown! Chad, honey, would you zip me up?"
"Certainly, my dear. Let me just quickly set this 32oz. tumbler full of 100% pomegranate juice precariously on the edge of the vanity next to you...uh-ohhhhhh...."
"Oh, NO! My precious Vera Wang is RUINED!!! Chad, you fool! It's three o'clock, and the only other dress in my closet is a hideous 1980's-era navy blue zipper-front frock made of Lycra!"
"Darling, you'll look stunning in it. It's not the dress that counts -- remember, it's an honor just to be nominated."
"You're right, dearest Chadlo, of course. Now, help me zip up the front."
"Certainly, my love. Wait, there appears to be a small thread caught in a completely unnoticeable place near the bottom of the zipper. Let me just quickly get my pliers and fix that for you...uh-ohhhhhh...."
"Chad, you moron! It won't zip up now, and there's not enough double-stick tape on planet Earth to hold in my million-dollar babies! What am I going to do now?!?"
"Sweetheart, I have an idea that will make you the belle of the ball! Just put it on like this...."
Thursday, February 17, 2005
*I* AM ALPHA DOG, AND YOU'D BETTER GET USED TO IT
I'm puppysitting again; this time it's a five-month old black Lab named Janna. She hasn't been getting enough work from the busy family who's raising her, so I've been asked to take her for a week or so, and do some intensive basic training with her. She's very cute. She's very smart. She's VERY stubborn...and hasn't yet been taught that she isn't the boss.
Two words: Labrador Rodeo.
There are moments when I literally have to grab her legs and pull them out from under her in order to get her on her back for grooming (it's not as damaging as it may sound, there's an actual technique to it). Then there's the Greco-Roman wrestling. I get her on the floor, quickly muscle her on to her side, grasp one of her forelegs for leverage, pin her across the neck/shoulder with my forearm and clamp my other hand firmly on her hip...and hold her there until her breathing slows and she's relaxed enough not to bolt as soon as I let go and give her the "okay" release command. Meanwhile, she lolls her tongue around and grunts and wiggles and snorts and gives me the crazy-eye. It takes a good thirty minutes, and provides a surprisingly good workout for both of us.
Ultimately, after last night's match, I won. But she got me back later...just as I was drifting off to sleep, satisfied that Janna was dreaming happily in her kennel next to my bed, she let out a toxic cloud that could have gagged a stone statue.
Is this what it's like to have children?
Two words: Labrador Rodeo.
There are moments when I literally have to grab her legs and pull them out from under her in order to get her on her back for grooming (it's not as damaging as it may sound, there's an actual technique to it). Then there's the Greco-Roman wrestling. I get her on the floor, quickly muscle her on to her side, grasp one of her forelegs for leverage, pin her across the neck/shoulder with my forearm and clamp my other hand firmly on her hip...and hold her there until her breathing slows and she's relaxed enough not to bolt as soon as I let go and give her the "okay" release command. Meanwhile, she lolls her tongue around and grunts and wiggles and snorts and gives me the crazy-eye. It takes a good thirty minutes, and provides a surprisingly good workout for both of us.
Ultimately, after last night's match, I won. But she got me back later...just as I was drifting off to sleep, satisfied that Janna was dreaming happily in her kennel next to my bed, she let out a toxic cloud that could have gagged a stone statue.
Is this what it's like to have children?
Sunday, January 30, 2005
Klownz in Da 'Hood
Apparently, the kids down in South Central are dressing like clowns and getting into intense rivalries that end in dramatic battles.
No, I'm not talking about street gangs; we already knew about that. I'm talking about "krumping," in which the kids down in South Central are LITERALLY dressing like clowns -- a la Bozo -- and getting into intense rivalries that end in dramatic CLOWN DANCE battles.
I hear what you're saying. "Are you freakin' kidding me?!?" No, sir. I am not.
I implore you to visit the above linked article, if only for the photo. I promise, it's reallyreallygood.
I can't believe this is the first I've heard of this. For the love of all that is holy, people are having underground clown dance battles and I didn't even know???
No, I'm not talking about street gangs; we already knew about that. I'm talking about "krumping," in which the kids down in South Central are LITERALLY dressing like clowns -- a la Bozo -- and getting into intense rivalries that end in dramatic CLOWN DANCE battles.
I hear what you're saying. "Are you freakin' kidding me?!?" No, sir. I am not.
I implore you to visit the above linked article, if only for the photo. I promise, it's reallyreallygood.
I can't believe this is the first I've heard of this. For the love of all that is holy, people are having underground clown dance battles and I didn't even know???
Wednesday, January 19, 2005
That Crazy Young Man and His Flying Machines
Martin Scorcese's "The Aviator" is collecting awards and accolades. See the movie on the big screen, if you have a chance; it's well done all the way around. I heartily endorse it not only because it's a fine example of what Hollywood can and should be doing (compelling stories, beautifully told), but also because the miniature effects are spectacular and worthy of recognition. Dozens of talented artists -- modelmakers, painters, sculptors, carpenters and mechanical effects experts -- worked for months to recreate scale models of 1930's Hollywood Boulevard, the Beverly Hills neighborhood where Howard Hughes crashed his XF-11, the world-famous Hercules ("Spruce Goose"), and several other pieces.
It's unfortunate that the current trend in the film industry is to forget or dismiss this time-honored craft and go whole-hog digital, often to the detriment of the look of the film. What New Deal Studios does is a little like good acting: if we've done our job, you won't notice there was a job to be done. And films like this one make it even harder to attract attention because we're dealing with airplanes, objects that exist in the real world. Nobody's looking at an airplane in a film and saying "how did they do that" the way they would with, say, an exploding alien spaceship.
Today marks the launch of a website devoted to "The Aviator" visual effects. Hop on over to www.aviatorvfx.com and take a peek at the miniature effects section. See for yourself what meticulous craftsmanship and attention to detail can add to a period film.
It's unfortunate that the current trend in the film industry is to forget or dismiss this time-honored craft and go whole-hog digital, often to the detriment of the look of the film. What New Deal Studios does is a little like good acting: if we've done our job, you won't notice there was a job to be done. And films like this one make it even harder to attract attention because we're dealing with airplanes, objects that exist in the real world. Nobody's looking at an airplane in a film and saying "how did they do that" the way they would with, say, an exploding alien spaceship.
Today marks the launch of a website devoted to "The Aviator" visual effects. Hop on over to www.aviatorvfx.com and take a peek at the miniature effects section. See for yourself what meticulous craftsmanship and attention to detail can add to a period film.
Monday, January 17, 2005
Starch Wars?
My ever-vigilant friend Deborah alerted me to a disturbance in the Force. In the spirit of my last blog entry, I bring you the Carb Lord of the Sith. O, George Lucas and your evil demi-gods of merchandising, is nothing sacred?
Thursday, January 13, 2005
Now Accepting Applications (Revised Standards, Version 38.2)
Want to go out with me? Take this quiz:
1. Which of the following do you enjoy most:
A. Scrabble
B. Scrapple
C. Scrimmage
D. Scrappy Doo
2. Your opinion on Star Wars:
A. I like to pretend I'm Han Solo (the Underoos help)
B. I like to pretend the "prequels" were never made
C. I'm going to pretend you didn't ask me that question
D. Captain Kirk was the man
3. Dogs:
A. Rule
B. Are good with mustard and relish
C. Are not as good as cats
D. Are good with mustard and relish, but not as good as cats with mustard and relish
4. Valentine's Day is Saturday, and I am your girlfriend. You:
A. Forget entirely
B. Remember, but blow off the whole occasion because you've "always hated Valentine's Day"
C. Plan a low-key but fun activity, and maybe even keep it a surprise (but tell me how to dress appropriately for the event)
D. Spend all day at a role-playing game convention with your friends while I sit at home online, being mocked by the other people in the chat room
5. The word "sandwich" is pronounced:
A. SAND-wich
B. SAN-wich
C. SAM-wich
D. SAMM-ich
6. "Hammered" is:
A. What you did to the nail in the wall in order to hang the picture frame in my living room
B. What you get with your buddies on Friday night
C. What you get when you go against the MC's advice and try to "touch this"
D. What?
7. You open doors:
A. For all women, the disabled, and occasionally men whose arms are full
B. For all women, but no men
C. For your mother, but no one else
D. For to get inside the building
8. Which of the following is a compliment:
A. "You are incredibly beautiful."
B. "You look nice today -- have you lost weight?"
C. "You look nice today -- are you wearing makeup?"
D. "Sure, honey, but this is Southern California -- anywhere else in the country, you'd really turn heads."
9. The following song will not be played at our wedding:
A. Theme from "Shaft"
B. William Hung's rendition of "Can You Feel the Love Tonight"
C. Anything from Star Wars
D. All of the Above
10. Orlando Bloom is:
A. A decent elf and a pretty good pirate
B. An elficer and a gentlepirate
C. A perfectly acceptable mini-obsession for your girlfriend, with the understanding that should Orlando and said girlfriend actually meet in person, absolutely nothing untoward would occur because it's YOU she truly loves, of course
D. "A totally gay dude who doesn't threaten my masculinity at *all* because he's, like, SOOOO gay. And pretty. DAMMIT! I mean gay."
1. Which of the following do you enjoy most:
A. Scrabble
B. Scrapple
C. Scrimmage
D. Scrappy Doo
2. Your opinion on Star Wars:
A. I like to pretend I'm Han Solo (the Underoos help)
B. I like to pretend the "prequels" were never made
C. I'm going to pretend you didn't ask me that question
D. Captain Kirk was the man
3. Dogs:
A. Rule
B. Are good with mustard and relish
C. Are not as good as cats
D. Are good with mustard and relish, but not as good as cats with mustard and relish
4. Valentine's Day is Saturday, and I am your girlfriend. You:
A. Forget entirely
B. Remember, but blow off the whole occasion because you've "always hated Valentine's Day"
C. Plan a low-key but fun activity, and maybe even keep it a surprise (but tell me how to dress appropriately for the event)
D. Spend all day at a role-playing game convention with your friends while I sit at home online, being mocked by the other people in the chat room
5. The word "sandwich" is pronounced:
A. SAND-wich
B. SAN-wich
C. SAM-wich
D. SAMM-ich
6. "Hammered" is:
A. What you did to the nail in the wall in order to hang the picture frame in my living room
B. What you get with your buddies on Friday night
C. What you get when you go against the MC's advice and try to "touch this"
D. What?
7. You open doors:
A. For all women, the disabled, and occasionally men whose arms are full
B. For all women, but no men
C. For your mother, but no one else
D. For to get inside the building
8. Which of the following is a compliment:
A. "You are incredibly beautiful."
B. "You look nice today -- have you lost weight?"
C. "You look nice today -- are you wearing makeup?"
D. "Sure, honey, but this is Southern California -- anywhere else in the country, you'd really turn heads."
9. The following song will not be played at our wedding:
A. Theme from "Shaft"
B. William Hung's rendition of "Can You Feel the Love Tonight"
C. Anything from Star Wars
D. All of the Above
10. Orlando Bloom is:
A. A decent elf and a pretty good pirate
B. An elficer and a gentlepirate
C. A perfectly acceptable mini-obsession for your girlfriend, with the understanding that should Orlando and said girlfriend actually meet in person, absolutely nothing untoward would occur because it's YOU she truly loves, of course
D. "A totally gay dude who doesn't threaten my masculinity at *all* because he's, like, SOOOO gay. And pretty. DAMMIT! I mean gay."
Now, if Only Someone Would PAY Me to Be Funny
Happy New Year & all that. Yeah, I know, it's been a while since I've posted. But please understand, this unemployment business is serious work!
This just in: I have another submission up at McSweeney's. It's a multiple contributor category, so ya gotta scroll down a bit to see mine. It's brief, but joyous.
This just in: I have another submission up at McSweeney's. It's a multiple contributor category, so ya gotta scroll down a bit to see mine. It's brief, but joyous.
Friday, December 31, 2004
Great Moments in Humility 2004
It's that review-your-past-twelve-months-on-this-planet time of year, and tonight I've been going over my 2004 journal (sparse though it is). I think I must resolve to live, in 2005, a more interesting life:
18 March 2004
I felt like an idiot standing at the first aid cabinet in the middle of the shop, browsing for the appropriate band-aid. People here do things like fall from ladders and sever their fingers on the table saw, and what do I get? Freak hand-washing accident. How, you ask? Well apparently, when the handle of the paper towel dispenser is wet -- as it is when you are using your wet hand to pull on it, in an attempt to get the paper towels to come out so that you may dry said wet hand -- it's liable to slip and catch the skin next to your thumbnail. It's my right thumb, and it hurts, so now I'm trying to train myself to use my left thumb on the keyboard spacebar. Mr. Blech always tried to tell us to use both thumbs to move the spacebar, but somehow I never developed that good typing habit. Who's sorry now, right Mr. Blech? Yes, that's right. I am.
18 March 2004
I felt like an idiot standing at the first aid cabinet in the middle of the shop, browsing for the appropriate band-aid. People here do things like fall from ladders and sever their fingers on the table saw, and what do I get? Freak hand-washing accident. How, you ask? Well apparently, when the handle of the paper towel dispenser is wet -- as it is when you are using your wet hand to pull on it, in an attempt to get the paper towels to come out so that you may dry said wet hand -- it's liable to slip and catch the skin next to your thumbnail. It's my right thumb, and it hurts, so now I'm trying to train myself to use my left thumb on the keyboard spacebar. Mr. Blech always tried to tell us to use both thumbs to move the spacebar, but somehow I never developed that good typing habit. Who's sorry now, right Mr. Blech? Yes, that's right. I am.
Thursday, December 30, 2004
HE YHE YHEY
Saw a billboard today advertising the "Fat Albert" movie. What took me by surprise was that the letters in the title, bright red capital block letters, were so poorly spaced on the billboard that I did a double take.
FAT ALBERT became FATALBERT, which my linguistically bent mind only took a split-second to see as FATAL BERT. Which, of course, made me think of Evil Bert.
FAT ALBERT became FATALBERT, which my linguistically bent mind only took a split-second to see as FATAL BERT. Which, of course, made me think of Evil Bert.
Tuesday, December 21, 2004
Southern California Christmas Songs
Baby, it’s 80 Degrees Outside
We Three Kings SKG
Joy to the Guy with the Ten-Minute Commute
Silent Night Except for the Occasional Gunshot
The Little Drummer Boy who Waited Tables for Rent Money While His Band Was Auditioning Hot Lead Singer Chicks
Angels We Have Seen on High-Speed Police Pursuits on Channel Nine
God Rest Ye Merry Two More Days Then We’ll Take a Look at Your New Nose
O Come, O Come Manuel
Hark, the Herald Angels Pitch the Next Hit Reality TV Show
I Saw Three Ships Come Sailing In, and They’d Better Not Take That Parking Space
Up On The Unaffordable Housetop
O Little Town of Bethlehem Adjacent
What Child is This, and Does He Have Representation? Here’s My Card
We Three Kings SKG
Joy to the Guy with the Ten-Minute Commute
Silent Night Except for the Occasional Gunshot
The Little Drummer Boy who Waited Tables for Rent Money While His Band Was Auditioning Hot Lead Singer Chicks
Angels We Have Seen on High-Speed Police Pursuits on Channel Nine
God Rest Ye Merry Two More Days Then We’ll Take a Look at Your New Nose
O Come, O Come Manuel
Hark, the Herald Angels Pitch the Next Hit Reality TV Show
I Saw Three Ships Come Sailing In, and They’d Better Not Take That Parking Space
Up On The Unaffordable Housetop
O Little Town of Bethlehem Adjacent
What Child is This, and Does He Have Representation? Here’s My Card
Saturday, December 11, 2004
Benefits of Volunteerism
Q: What's better than working the candy necklace craft booth at a holiday carnival for blind and/or multiply disabled kids?
A: Working said candy necklace craft booth at said holiday carnival while unannounced special guest Stevie Wonder sings an uptempo arrangement of "The Christmas Song" at a piano thirty feet away.
Now that's what I call a Christmas bonus!
A: Working said candy necklace craft booth at said holiday carnival while unannounced special guest Stevie Wonder sings an uptempo arrangement of "The Christmas Song" at a piano thirty feet away.
Now that's what I call a Christmas bonus!
Saturday, December 04, 2004
Thursday, December 02, 2004
Where Am I?
It's fifty-four degrees here. FIFTY-FOUR! Nothing is ever fifty-four here -- not a Fahrenheit measurement, not a person's age, nothing! Is Los Angeles finally being subjected to divine wrath?
I'm huddled by the semi-comforting natural gas flame of my faux fireplace, wearing two pairs of socks and contemplating the ungodly ways of our culture.
I'm huddled by the semi-comforting natural gas flame of my faux fireplace, wearing two pairs of socks and contemplating the ungodly ways of our culture.
Wednesday, November 24, 2004
Wartime Thanksgiving in a Deeply Divided Nation
Before any one of us was born, before there was such a thing as an organized war protest, and -- miraculously -- before the invention of FedEx, there was The Soldiers' and Sailors' Thanksgiving of 1864.
It's a great article, and it contains a link to a wonderful website that each and every one of you should visit.
Happy Thanksgiving to all of you, for whom I am deeply grateful.
It's a great article, and it contains a link to a wonderful website that each and every one of you should visit.
Happy Thanksgiving to all of you, for whom I am deeply grateful.
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