Inspired by the season, my muse has driven me to write an updated version of a traditional Christmas poem. Enjoy!
‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the apartment
Nothing was put away in its proper compartment
The laundry was thrown on the floor without care
‘Cause I knew no one else would see the mess there
And I was nestled all snug in my bed
While visions of strippers danced in my head
“Hot Mama” wore no kerchief, but she did wear a cap
And she danced on the stage to the music of rap
When outside my window there arose such a clatter
But it didn’t involve me, so it didn’t matter
Back to my dreams I flew like a flash
And offered a dollar as “Hot Mama” took off her sash
The strobe-light on her breasts during the show
Gave the luster of mid-day to her G-String below
When what to my wondering eyes should appear
But a cute little waitress with my $5 beer
The waitress I’d seen dance so lively and quick
I think that her stage name was simply “Hot Chick”
But tonight she waited tables in spite of her fame
Since at this time of month she was out of the game
Now Kayla! Now Ivy! Now Heaven and Vixen!
Came up to the stage, they were dancin’ and blitzin’!
From the top of the pole it looked like they’d fall
Now lap dances! Lap dances! Lap dances all!
Despite the transaction fees that were entirely too high
The twenties from the ATM piled up to the sky
And off to the corners the suckers they flew
With fantasies they hoped would now come true
But then in a twinkling, their money went poof!
And panting and unsatisfied the suckers hit the roof
The bouncers took each one in hand and turned him around
And tossed them all out the door without making a sound
Kayla was dressed all in leather from her head to her foot
But under the circumstances her clothing was moot
With a gleam in her eye she arched her long back
And she looked at me like a predator about to attack
Her eyes – how they twinkled! Her smile so merry
Her tongue the color of roses as she licked at a cherry
Then she ran it along her red lips all sexy and slow
And sliding up to the pole she started her show
I clenched a dollar bill tightly between my teeth
While secondhand smoke circled her head like a wreath
She had a slender face and a flat little belly
And the sight of her made me want to cover her with jelly
She was tall and thin, like some sexy young elf
And she smiled when she saw me, in spite of herself
A wink of her eye and a twist of her head
Soon gave me to know – I was alone in my bed
She spoke not a word as she continued her work
She slid off her stockings; then called me a jerk
And shaking her finger in front of my nose,
She shrugged and she laughed as from my dream I arose
Looking at the time on my clock I let out a whistle
And we’ve finally reached the end of this epistle
Now the point of this story is finally in sight:
For Jon, Christmas is just another lonely, dream-filled night
Friday, December 24, 2004
Thursday, December 23, 2004
My gift to the world
So here we are at the end of yet another of my long weekends.
I didn’t really accomplish much in the past four days, but that’s not terribly surprising.
After being mostly satisfied with the picture I completed on Tuesday I’ve been pretty much incapable of producing another image that I like even a little.
That’s usually what happens, though; when I finish one really good picture my talent takes a while to recharge.
Two more days and this whole Christmas thing will be over. Then I just have to get through New Year’s and Valentine’s Day and I’ll no longer be bombarded by constant reminders of the fact that I don’t have anyone special in my life to spend the holidays, or really, any time with.
What makes the period that stretches from Thanksgiving to VD (I just find it funny that “Valentine’s Day” and “Venereal Disease” have the same initials, at least as long as you leave out the "Saint" part. Hmm...I'm sure there must be some kind of metaphor in that somewhere...) especially irritating is the fact that one of the things I miss most about being in a relationship is having someone to do things for.
Sometimes I miss that almost as much as having someone to do things to.
In any case, I really did enjoy being able to engage in spontaneous (and sometimes not so spontaneous, like during holidays) gestures of affection through gift-giving.
Of course, that’s more of an assumption on my part. I think I would enjoy demonstrating affection through gift-giving, but when I was married we were invariably strapped for cash, so generally I had to engage in spontaneous gestures of affection through, well, gestures.
Nice, cheap gestures.
I would do things like leave notes, or sweet little messages on the answering machine for her, and that sort of thing. I suppose that more gift-giving took place during the dating period, though I guess that’s fairly typical.
Still, while we were married I did enjoy going Christmas shopping for her.
I suppose that it’s the fact that I no longer have that particular activity to look for each year that soured me on the whole Christmas thing. After all, I honestly did find it better to give than to receive, so when I don’t have anyone special to give to, who cares?
I’m not sure what it was, precisely, about going Christmas shopping that I enjoyed, since for the most part we couldn’t really afford to buy the things that we did, and since it’s supposed to be the thought that counts, evidently my thoughts sucked, as she very seldom liked anything that I gave her for Christmas.
She never came out and said that she didn’t like the things I gave her, but she really didn’t have to, as her behavior said it all. If I bough her jewelry, she would either break it or lose it. If I bought her clothes she would either exchange them for something else or simply bury them in the back of the closet never to see the light of day.
I don’t think I had horrible taste or anything. It’s not like I was buying her really trashy or obnoxious clothes, and I’d like to think that living with her day in and day out for a few years gave me some kind of insight into the sort of things she liked, and that I some valid ideas about what might look good on her.
So I’ve never really been sure why she almost never liked anything I bought for her.
Whatever the case, she always had some excuse for not wearing the clothes I bought her. The most common were “They’re too nice to wear as everyday clothes” or “It’s cute, but I wouldn’t look good in it.”
That second excuse in particular especially annoyed me one year when I bought her this really cute little black pleated skirt. I remember my eyes being drawn to it in the store, as in my mind’s eye I pictured it on her, and I liked what I saw. I thought it had a subdued sexiness to it, and while it was sort of dressy, it was equally suited to everyday wear.
As she rang it up, I remember that the salesgirl even commented on how cute it was, and she expressed her belief that my wife would “love it.”
I think that out of all of the gifts that I’d bought that year I was most excited to see her open that one, and I really wanted to see her wear it.
She wouldn’t even try it on.
No matter how much I tried to persuade her to try it on even once just so I could see her in it, she refused, and steadfastly insisted that she simply would not look good in it.
In fairness, both to her and to myself, she didn’t hate everything that I bought her, as there were some things that she wore pretty regularly, and stuffed animals were usually a safe bet as far as things to buy her went, but in general, if it came from me, it would go unworn, unloved, and ignored.
The point of this is that despite year after year of failed attempts at buying the perfect gifts I remained undaunted. Even though I knew my gift selections would go over like a lead balloon, I still liked buying them for her.
The last time I thought, mistakenly of course, that I was actually starting to have a relationship with someone I remember that one of the things I found most exciting about the prospect of romance was that I would finally have someone to buy things for. In fact, while the “relationship” was extremely short-lived, I did actually buy her a couple of things.
Honestly, though, it’s not really about the buying or even the gift, but the feeling behind it. I miss having someone to care about enough to take the time to look for the perfect gift (even if I completley fail to find it), or who would spring to mind on some random occasion when I spot something in a display and think, “Oh, _____ would love that.”
This morning I actually woke from a dream in which I was out doing some last-minute shopping in search of the perfect gift for…someone.
Someone who doesn’t exist outside of my dreams, obviously, though clearly it demonstrates that this gift-giving urge is pretty deeply-seated in my consciousness.
These days, of course, I don’t really bother shopping at all. As I’ve mentioned before I just send money to my sister for her to distribute how she sees fit, whether as cash or in the form of gifts (which she would have to buy).
I did buy actual presents for my brother and for my mom and dad, though, but I did that online, which actually makes it sort of impersonal.
Of course, another disadvantage of flying solo is that I don’t receive much in the way of really cool gifts.
Mostly I get gift cards. My sister Kristy invariably gives me an actual present, but beyond that I don’t get much (Though Scott and Stacy gave me an “Ove Glove,” or at least a reasonable facsimile thereof, and a refrigerator magnet featuring Stewie from “Family Guy”).
Honestly, I haven’t had a really good Christmas haul since my last Christmas as a married man, which was ten years ago.
Strangely enough, that last Christmas together was the one year I managed to buy her something she really liked (a leather coat).
The last couple of years my years my mom has just given me money.
Last year I actually used most of the money she gave me to buy a present for someone else, as Christmas came during yet another failed attempt at initiating a relationship, which naturally got the gift-giving itch to flare up.
So I was surprised, especially since I had already bought the pots and pans that the money she was going to give me was supposed to be for, when I found that my mom had sent me a gift card in the amount of what I spent on the pots and pans rather than a check.
In any case, on the topic of my inner Santa, I suppose the obvious question would be why I don’t just transfer the gift-giving urge that's lurking deep inside of me onto my friends and family, as that way I could get at least some kind of gratification as I scratch that itch.
Meh.
I just don’t work that way.
Not consciously, at least. I’m usually not big on the whole transference thing (my reallocation of DLM enthusiasm to “Sin City” notwithstanding).
If I’m prevented from doing something I don’t typically seek out some substitute for it; I just stop doing it.
After I quit smoking I started walking a lot, but that was more a matter of dealing with the excess nervous energy I had. Once that leveled off I stopped walking, so now I don’t have anything that takes the place of smoking.
As for the cooking thing, which was also concurrent with my quitting smoking, it isn’t really a substitute for smoking either, as I don’t do it every day, and it has more to do with wanting to save money and add a little variety (and control over ingredients) to my diet.
(As an aside, my newly-discovered talent for cooking only adds to my overall annoyance about the gift-giving thing, as a romantic, home-cooked meal is yet another gesture of affection that I could make - if I had anyone I could have over for a romantic, home-cooked meal.)
So, typically what I do whenever I’m prevented from doing something is simply stop doing it…and complain about not being able to do it.
Other people find outlets for frustrated urges through things like volunteerism or spending time with their families and friends.
I complain.
I mean, I can’t really do volunteer work.
It’s not that I don’t care, or am opposed to helping people…but I just don’t like people.
(I know; that hardly comes as a surprise.)
Though I may often say otherwise (mostly in jest), I don’t honestly wish any particular harm on anyone, and I’m sure there are many ways that I could contribute to making the world a better place, but in general I find it best if I stay away from people as much as possible.
So I can’t imagine myself actually going out to help them, especially since it would undoubtedly involve being part of a group of people. Yuck.
And all of the members of my family are very far away, so while it’s not impossible, it is at least difficult to get overly involved in their lives, and as we should all know by now, if it’s difficult, the odds are that I’m not going to do it.
Out here in VA the only friends I have are the people I work with, and I spend plenty of time with them already. I don’t think I need to aggressively pursue spending even more time with them, nor do I think they’d really want me to.
Any other friends I have are as far away as my family (for the most part), and as I mentioned in a previous post, there really isn’t anything for us to do if we were able to spend more time together anyway.
Of course, if I weren’t the cold-hearted, animal-hating, nihilistic, mean, doo-doo-headed bastard that I am I could try to satisfy my frustrated impulses with the help of some unsuspecting, defenseless pet.
Yep, I could go full-on psycho, indulging my gift-giving urges, and maybe even manifesting whatever latent paternal instincts I may have lurking deep inside me, with the help of, say, a poodle.
A poodle that I would call Miss Pretty Penny Poodle, and who I could dress up in cute little sweaters and, naturally, poodle skirts, and I could buy her little presents and take her shopping with me, and I could bring her to dog park so that she could find herself a suitor, and one day I could walk Miss Pretty Penny Poodle down the aisle at her doggy wedding, and one day Mrs. Pretty Penny Schnauzer (née Poodle) would bring me many litters of grandchildren whom I could shower with affection and little doggy sweaters and flea collars and chew toys and…
Fortunately, both for myself and for any poor animal that might suffer needlessly, I am a cold-hearted, animal-hating, nihilistic, mean, doo-doo-headed bastard, so nothing like that is ever likely to happen.
No, it’s much more likely that I would become some sort of Christmas-themed serial killer (“The St. Nick Killer,” for example, who makes no distinction between “naughty” or “nice” when selecting his victims, and who you really don’t want to leave gifts under your tree or in your stockings.), but something like that would be difficult, and we know how I feel about things that are difficult.
(Besides, as I said, I don’t really wish any sort of specific harm on anyone. I really don't. Honest!)
So what’s even more likely is that I will continue to complain, using this as my forum.
And honestly, I think it’s the best gift I can give anyone.
After all, if you read my ravings here you’re bound to get at least the occasional chuckle, or maybe find something to think about, or see a picture that you really enjoy, or at the very least find that you've managed to kill a fair amount of time.
And most importantly, after your get through reading my musings and the tales of my misadventures you can always lean back in your chair and say, “Thank God I’m not him.”
And if that isn’t a gift, I don’t know what is.
So Merry Christmas, Threshold readers!
And you’re welcome.
I didn’t really accomplish much in the past four days, but that’s not terribly surprising.
After being mostly satisfied with the picture I completed on Tuesday I’ve been pretty much incapable of producing another image that I like even a little.
That’s usually what happens, though; when I finish one really good picture my talent takes a while to recharge.
Two more days and this whole Christmas thing will be over. Then I just have to get through New Year’s and Valentine’s Day and I’ll no longer be bombarded by constant reminders of the fact that I don’t have anyone special in my life to spend the holidays, or really, any time with.
What makes the period that stretches from Thanksgiving to VD (I just find it funny that “Valentine’s Day” and “Venereal Disease” have the same initials, at least as long as you leave out the "Saint" part. Hmm...I'm sure there must be some kind of metaphor in that somewhere...) especially irritating is the fact that one of the things I miss most about being in a relationship is having someone to do things for.
Sometimes I miss that almost as much as having someone to do things to.
In any case, I really did enjoy being able to engage in spontaneous (and sometimes not so spontaneous, like during holidays) gestures of affection through gift-giving.
Of course, that’s more of an assumption on my part. I think I would enjoy demonstrating affection through gift-giving, but when I was married we were invariably strapped for cash, so generally I had to engage in spontaneous gestures of affection through, well, gestures.
Nice, cheap gestures.
I would do things like leave notes, or sweet little messages on the answering machine for her, and that sort of thing. I suppose that more gift-giving took place during the dating period, though I guess that’s fairly typical.
Still, while we were married I did enjoy going Christmas shopping for her.
I suppose that it’s the fact that I no longer have that particular activity to look for each year that soured me on the whole Christmas thing. After all, I honestly did find it better to give than to receive, so when I don’t have anyone special to give to, who cares?
I’m not sure what it was, precisely, about going Christmas shopping that I enjoyed, since for the most part we couldn’t really afford to buy the things that we did, and since it’s supposed to be the thought that counts, evidently my thoughts sucked, as she very seldom liked anything that I gave her for Christmas.
She never came out and said that she didn’t like the things I gave her, but she really didn’t have to, as her behavior said it all. If I bough her jewelry, she would either break it or lose it. If I bought her clothes she would either exchange them for something else or simply bury them in the back of the closet never to see the light of day.
I don’t think I had horrible taste or anything. It’s not like I was buying her really trashy or obnoxious clothes, and I’d like to think that living with her day in and day out for a few years gave me some kind of insight into the sort of things she liked, and that I some valid ideas about what might look good on her.
So I’ve never really been sure why she almost never liked anything I bought for her.
Whatever the case, she always had some excuse for not wearing the clothes I bought her. The most common were “They’re too nice to wear as everyday clothes” or “It’s cute, but I wouldn’t look good in it.”
That second excuse in particular especially annoyed me one year when I bought her this really cute little black pleated skirt. I remember my eyes being drawn to it in the store, as in my mind’s eye I pictured it on her, and I liked what I saw. I thought it had a subdued sexiness to it, and while it was sort of dressy, it was equally suited to everyday wear.
As she rang it up, I remember that the salesgirl even commented on how cute it was, and she expressed her belief that my wife would “love it.”
I think that out of all of the gifts that I’d bought that year I was most excited to see her open that one, and I really wanted to see her wear it.
She wouldn’t even try it on.
No matter how much I tried to persuade her to try it on even once just so I could see her in it, she refused, and steadfastly insisted that she simply would not look good in it.
In fairness, both to her and to myself, she didn’t hate everything that I bought her, as there were some things that she wore pretty regularly, and stuffed animals were usually a safe bet as far as things to buy her went, but in general, if it came from me, it would go unworn, unloved, and ignored.
The point of this is that despite year after year of failed attempts at buying the perfect gifts I remained undaunted. Even though I knew my gift selections would go over like a lead balloon, I still liked buying them for her.
The last time I thought, mistakenly of course, that I was actually starting to have a relationship with someone I remember that one of the things I found most exciting about the prospect of romance was that I would finally have someone to buy things for. In fact, while the “relationship” was extremely short-lived, I did actually buy her a couple of things.
Honestly, though, it’s not really about the buying or even the gift, but the feeling behind it. I miss having someone to care about enough to take the time to look for the perfect gift (even if I completley fail to find it), or who would spring to mind on some random occasion when I spot something in a display and think, “Oh, _____ would love that.”
This morning I actually woke from a dream in which I was out doing some last-minute shopping in search of the perfect gift for…someone.
Someone who doesn’t exist outside of my dreams, obviously, though clearly it demonstrates that this gift-giving urge is pretty deeply-seated in my consciousness.
These days, of course, I don’t really bother shopping at all. As I’ve mentioned before I just send money to my sister for her to distribute how she sees fit, whether as cash or in the form of gifts (which she would have to buy).
I did buy actual presents for my brother and for my mom and dad, though, but I did that online, which actually makes it sort of impersonal.
Of course, another disadvantage of flying solo is that I don’t receive much in the way of really cool gifts.
Mostly I get gift cards. My sister Kristy invariably gives me an actual present, but beyond that I don’t get much (Though Scott and Stacy gave me an “Ove Glove,” or at least a reasonable facsimile thereof, and a refrigerator magnet featuring Stewie from “Family Guy”).
Honestly, I haven’t had a really good Christmas haul since my last Christmas as a married man, which was ten years ago.
Strangely enough, that last Christmas together was the one year I managed to buy her something she really liked (a leather coat).
The last couple of years my years my mom has just given me money.
Last year I actually used most of the money she gave me to buy a present for someone else, as Christmas came during yet another failed attempt at initiating a relationship, which naturally got the gift-giving itch to flare up.
So I was surprised, especially since I had already bought the pots and pans that the money she was going to give me was supposed to be for, when I found that my mom had sent me a gift card in the amount of what I spent on the pots and pans rather than a check.
In any case, on the topic of my inner Santa, I suppose the obvious question would be why I don’t just transfer the gift-giving urge that's lurking deep inside of me onto my friends and family, as that way I could get at least some kind of gratification as I scratch that itch.
Meh.
I just don’t work that way.
Not consciously, at least. I’m usually not big on the whole transference thing (my reallocation of DLM enthusiasm to “Sin City” notwithstanding).
If I’m prevented from doing something I don’t typically seek out some substitute for it; I just stop doing it.
After I quit smoking I started walking a lot, but that was more a matter of dealing with the excess nervous energy I had. Once that leveled off I stopped walking, so now I don’t have anything that takes the place of smoking.
As for the cooking thing, which was also concurrent with my quitting smoking, it isn’t really a substitute for smoking either, as I don’t do it every day, and it has more to do with wanting to save money and add a little variety (and control over ingredients) to my diet.
(As an aside, my newly-discovered talent for cooking only adds to my overall annoyance about the gift-giving thing, as a romantic, home-cooked meal is yet another gesture of affection that I could make - if I had anyone I could have over for a romantic, home-cooked meal.)
So, typically what I do whenever I’m prevented from doing something is simply stop doing it…and complain about not being able to do it.
Other people find outlets for frustrated urges through things like volunteerism or spending time with their families and friends.
I complain.
I mean, I can’t really do volunteer work.
It’s not that I don’t care, or am opposed to helping people…but I just don’t like people.
(I know; that hardly comes as a surprise.)
Though I may often say otherwise (mostly in jest), I don’t honestly wish any particular harm on anyone, and I’m sure there are many ways that I could contribute to making the world a better place, but in general I find it best if I stay away from people as much as possible.
So I can’t imagine myself actually going out to help them, especially since it would undoubtedly involve being part of a group of people. Yuck.
And all of the members of my family are very far away, so while it’s not impossible, it is at least difficult to get overly involved in their lives, and as we should all know by now, if it’s difficult, the odds are that I’m not going to do it.
Out here in VA the only friends I have are the people I work with, and I spend plenty of time with them already. I don’t think I need to aggressively pursue spending even more time with them, nor do I think they’d really want me to.
Any other friends I have are as far away as my family (for the most part), and as I mentioned in a previous post, there really isn’t anything for us to do if we were able to spend more time together anyway.
Of course, if I weren’t the cold-hearted, animal-hating, nihilistic, mean, doo-doo-headed bastard that I am I could try to satisfy my frustrated impulses with the help of some unsuspecting, defenseless pet.
Yep, I could go full-on psycho, indulging my gift-giving urges, and maybe even manifesting whatever latent paternal instincts I may have lurking deep inside me, with the help of, say, a poodle.
A poodle that I would call Miss Pretty Penny Poodle, and who I could dress up in cute little sweaters and, naturally, poodle skirts, and I could buy her little presents and take her shopping with me, and I could bring her to dog park so that she could find herself a suitor, and one day I could walk Miss Pretty Penny Poodle down the aisle at her doggy wedding, and one day Mrs. Pretty Penny Schnauzer (née Poodle) would bring me many litters of grandchildren whom I could shower with affection and little doggy sweaters and flea collars and chew toys and…
Fortunately, both for myself and for any poor animal that might suffer needlessly, I am a cold-hearted, animal-hating, nihilistic, mean, doo-doo-headed bastard, so nothing like that is ever likely to happen.
No, it’s much more likely that I would become some sort of Christmas-themed serial killer (“The St. Nick Killer,” for example, who makes no distinction between “naughty” or “nice” when selecting his victims, and who you really don’t want to leave gifts under your tree or in your stockings.), but something like that would be difficult, and we know how I feel about things that are difficult.
(Besides, as I said, I don’t really wish any sort of specific harm on anyone. I really don't. Honest!)
So what’s even more likely is that I will continue to complain, using this as my forum.
And honestly, I think it’s the best gift I can give anyone.
After all, if you read my ravings here you’re bound to get at least the occasional chuckle, or maybe find something to think about, or see a picture that you really enjoy, or at the very least find that you've managed to kill a fair amount of time.
And most importantly, after your get through reading my musings and the tales of my misadventures you can always lean back in your chair and say, “Thank God I’m not him.”
And if that isn’t a gift, I don’t know what is.
So Merry Christmas, Threshold readers!
And you’re welcome.
DLM footnote
I really have no faith that the "Save Dead Like Me" petition will change any minds over at Showtime (After all, I once signed a petition to save "Wonderfalls," another wonderful show created by the same person as DLM, to no avail), but what the hell, I signed it anyway, and a few other people I know have as well.
MGM, which produces the show, has stated that they haven't given up on DLM and will shop it around to other networks.
One network that has been mentioned already is the Sci-Fi Channel.
This is a distinct possibility, as Brian Fuller, the show's creator (whose involvement was actually very limited in the second season) already has a series in development with SFC (Namely a series entitled "The Amazing Screw-On Head," which is based on the Mike Mignola [Creator of "Hellboy"] comic of the same name. I've only read one issue of the series; it's just as bizarre as the title would suggest.), so that provides an opening.
Also, several years ago SFC rescued another MGM property that had been dropped by Showtime: Stargate SG-1. Stargate has managed to thrive at SFC, so maybe DLM could do the same.
I have my doubts, though, since much of the charm of DLM stems from the fact that on a premium cable channel it's not hampered by restrictions on language and content.
If George can't say things like "You're full of shit you little punk!" or drop the occasional (or, more accurately, frequent) F-bomb, I don't think it would be the same show that I've come to know and love.
So I don't know; I think I'm pretty much boned in this regard.
If Showtime doesn't change its mind about this, I'm inclined to cancel it.
Honestly, I don't watch it much (apart from watching DLM), so I wouldn't really miss it, but since my cable bill is based on a "package" system, I would probably end up losing other channels as well, and yet, paradoxically, also end up paying more.
Ironically enough, the impetus to cancel Showtime came on a day when they were actually going to be airing a movie that I wanted to see ("Monster," which I started watching, but my cable company [Adelphia] sucks, and so all of the premium channels just spontaneously cut out in the middle of the movie. [Additional info: I began writing this last night after my digital cable went out, but couldn't post it, as my Internet acces decided that it would also crap out. Adelphia sucks, but I'm not really keen on satellite, so, again, I'm boned.]).
Still, what really, really pisses me off about Showtime canceling DLM is that at the same time they made that decision, they gave the greenlight to a new series to run in its place.
This new series is based on...*sigh*...the "Barbershop" movies.
It could be worse, I guess. It could be some damn reality series, and as we know, reality sucks.
After all, the reality is that I will probably never see another new episode of Dead Like Me...
MGM, which produces the show, has stated that they haven't given up on DLM and will shop it around to other networks.
One network that has been mentioned already is the Sci-Fi Channel.
This is a distinct possibility, as Brian Fuller, the show's creator (whose involvement was actually very limited in the second season) already has a series in development with SFC (Namely a series entitled "The Amazing Screw-On Head," which is based on the Mike Mignola [Creator of "Hellboy"] comic of the same name. I've only read one issue of the series; it's just as bizarre as the title would suggest.), so that provides an opening.
Also, several years ago SFC rescued another MGM property that had been dropped by Showtime: Stargate SG-1. Stargate has managed to thrive at SFC, so maybe DLM could do the same.
I have my doubts, though, since much of the charm of DLM stems from the fact that on a premium cable channel it's not hampered by restrictions on language and content.
If George can't say things like "You're full of shit you little punk!" or drop the occasional (or, more accurately, frequent) F-bomb, I don't think it would be the same show that I've come to know and love.
So I don't know; I think I'm pretty much boned in this regard.
If Showtime doesn't change its mind about this, I'm inclined to cancel it.
Honestly, I don't watch it much (apart from watching DLM), so I wouldn't really miss it, but since my cable bill is based on a "package" system, I would probably end up losing other channels as well, and yet, paradoxically, also end up paying more.
Ironically enough, the impetus to cancel Showtime came on a day when they were actually going to be airing a movie that I wanted to see ("Monster," which I started watching, but my cable company [Adelphia] sucks, and so all of the premium channels just spontaneously cut out in the middle of the movie. [Additional info: I began writing this last night after my digital cable went out, but couldn't post it, as my Internet acces decided that it would also crap out. Adelphia sucks, but I'm not really keen on satellite, so, again, I'm boned.]).
Still, what really, really pisses me off about Showtime canceling DLM is that at the same time they made that decision, they gave the greenlight to a new series to run in its place.
This new series is based on...*sigh*...the "Barbershop" movies.
It could be worse, I guess. It could be some damn reality series, and as we know, reality sucks.
After all, the reality is that I will probably never see another new episode of Dead Like Me...
Wednesday, December 22, 2004
At least it hasn't resorted to leaving bags of flaming poo on my doorstep...
So the news about DLM pretty much destroyed my day.
Not that the day really had much going for it in the first place, but even so, it was just another piece of unnecessary cruelty on the part of the Universe.
I learned long ago that, while I’m not exactly Job or anything, the Universe does like to mess with me, and sometimes it’s just downright mean about it.
The best example of the Universe’s perverse and cruel sense of humor when it comes to Jon happened around two years ago in Tucson, in the days immediately prior to my move to Northern VA.
As most of the people who read these entries know, in those days I worked in a call center providing technical support for the same company that I still work for, albeit in an entirely different capacity.
(Again, most people reading this know which company that is, but I don’t think that company policy allows me to mention it by name under these circumstances, which is why I try to be at least a litte vague.)
In keeping with the demographics of the tech support industry, most of my co-workers were, to put it charitably, ugly as shit.
Actually, that’s not really true, but the fact of the matter remains that there were a lot of morbidly obese people, for example, altogether too many men, and basically very few women who were even remotely attractive.
That, and the simple fact that she was absolutely gorgeous, made Natalie really stand out.
I remember the first time I saw her. It was as if my eyes were actually drawn to her, and she seemed to have a glow around her (Seriously; read “Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance” and “Lila” for an examination of this phenomenon.) that made everyone around her fade into the shadows.
I knew that there was absolutely zero chance that she was single, and that was confirmed by “overhearing” conversations (okay, so I actively listened to what she was saying when I had the opportunity) that she had with other people on smoke breaks in which she made frequent reference to her boyfriend.
Still, she had entered my consciousness, and the fact that she was involved did nothing to diminish my interest in her.
It did, however, in conjunction with my self-esteem issues and general social awkwardness, keep me from trying to make a move on her, or even initiate a conversation.
Besides, she was, obviously, very popular, so it would have been almost impossible for me to get any sort of access to her.
One night, however, it was just the two of us out in the smoking area, and she actually initiated a conversation with me.
I knew that it didn’t indicate any interest in me on her part, as she was simply a friendly person and would have initiated a conversation with anyone.
Still, it did prove to be the first of many conversations. We didn’t exactly become friends; for example, I doubt that she ever even knew my name throughout most of the time that we talked.
However, we did talk frequently, and there were even times when she would come out to the smoking area and actually seek me out.
Throughout most of it I was awkward, nervous, and tongue-tied, so unless she was extremely naïve (which is possible) or just generally clueless (again, this is a possibility; I have to admit that most of my interest in her was physical), she had to have known that I was interested in her.
Even so, nothing ever did, or could, develop from this casual acquaintance.
You know, unless you count my complete obsession with her as “something.”
Fortunately my overwhelming laziness has always prevented my obsessive nature from turning me into anything even remotely dangerous. At worst, I annoy my friends a little with my incessant blathering about my obsession.
So, beyond simply manipulating circumstances to whatever extent I could to allow me to have some contact with her, I really didn’t do anything in the way of stalking.
I did try, unsuccessfully, to drive her out of my mind on several occasions. One such attempt resulted in writing a poem about/for her, which I thought might help purge the obsession, and which I am not going to share here.
I had a friend who kept encouraging me to ask her out and to give her the poem, though I think he was just doing so because he wanted to see me humiliated and crushed.
I did consider it, but ultimately I was too sensible/cowardly.
Until I found out that I was leaving.
On the Friday that marked my last day at work, I sent her an e-mail telling her how I felt, how much I regretted the fact that I would never get to know her better, and containing the poem.
In true cowardly form, I sent it to her fifteen minutes before the end of her shift (Yes, I was enough of a stalker that I knew her schedule), giving her a chance, though not much of one, to respond in some fashion.
I suppose that even though I knew that the timing effectively prevented anything from coming of it I thought that it would be cathartic in some fashion.
Honestly, I think that I was also hoping for some sort of big “movie moment” during which, a half an hour later when I got off work, she would be waiting for me at the door.
Naturally, she wasn’t.
I knew from conversations that we’d had that she didn’t own a computer, so if she hadn’t checked her mail before leaving work, she wouldn’t see it until Monday (I was leaving on the Wednesday following).
Over the weekend I did various things in preparation for leaving, and throughout it all I wondered how Natalie had reacted (or would react) to my message.
On Sunday I went to a nearby Wal-Mart in order to find my friend Jeff, who, so far as I knew, worked there. Jeff was a friend from my drinking period who had moved to Tucson from Michigan, basing his decision largely on the fact that I lived there. Once he arrived he found that I was still sober, and that when we weren’t drinking together we had very little in common.
The last time I’d seen him had been months before, shortly after I’d discovered that he and his girlfriend had moved out of the apartment they’d been living in. I had neglected to get his new address or phone number.
Still, I felt that I should let him know that I was leaving Tucson, so I stopped at the Wal-Mart to see if he was there.
He was, and after I said my goodbyes I decided that I would pick up the few things I needed while I was there, grabbed them, and then got in what appeared to be the shortest line.
The population of the metropolitan Tucson area, according to some sources, is roughly 800,000.
There are six Wal-Marts in the area.
In over a year of working at the call center I had never once “bumped into” one of my fellow employees outside of work.
Considering these facts, there is no chance that Natalie would be standing in line ahead of me – with her boyfriend, no less – unless God, Allah, Brahma, Buddha, the Universe, or whatever you want to call it, had simply decided to fuck with me.
There was one person standing in line directly ahead of me, separating me from her.
And of course, there was her boyfriend, also separating me from her.
The fact that I had to see her with her boyfriend would have been bad enough under any circumstances, but in this case it made it especially intolerable, as did the fact that I had no idea if she had read my e-mail or not.
If she had read it, how had she felt about it? Had she felt anything? What would happen if she saw me? Would she ignore me, which would hurt, or would she pretend like nothing happened?
I didn’t know what to do. On the one hand, I wanted to have one last chance to see her smile, and I also wanted to know if she had read my message and at least get a feel for how she had reacted to it, but on the other, if she had reacted negatively to the message, I didn’t think I’d want to know.
The boyfriend’s presence only complicated matters further.
It was, essentially, a no-win situation.
Ultimately I decided to just try not to be noticed, keeping my head moving so as to prevent her from getting a good look at me. I figured that if she noticed me and said something, fine, but if she didn’t, it wasn’t because I was avoiding her.
Well, not exactly, anyway.
Whatever the case, whether she saw me and chose to ignore me or didn’t see me, she and her boyfriend left without her ever saying a word to me.
That was the last time I ever saw her.
She never responded to my mail.
The last I heard, though I hadn’t actually sought out the update, my friend “Zalfiro,” who worked with her for a while, had informed me that she’d had a baby.
In any case, the point of all of this is that my random encounter with her (and her boyfriend) was a clear case of the Universe cruelly messing with me.
If for no other reason than to free myself from being the butt of its jokes, I’ve often wished that the Universe, every once in a while, would choose to laugh with me, but it almost never does, and certainly it never does so in a big way that would make up for some of the practical jokes it’s played on me in the past.
And there have been plenty of opportunities for it to do so.
In particular I remember a time back when I lived in Minnesota.
There was a girl that my friends and I had seen around town a lot. She looked rather a lot like a more voluptuous Sarah Michelle Gellar, and her name was Tiff.
Like any red-blooded heterosexual male, my friend Eric found Tiff extremely attractive and would have jumped at an opportunity to get to know her better (And by “get to know her better” I mean “nail her”).
Eric may be many things, but he is not a man who will waste time in pointless pursuit of a “dream girl” when there are plenty of available real girls to choose from (And by “real” I mean “real fat”).
So one night, adhering to principles of the maxim about a bird in the hand being worth two in the bush (there’s a “dirty” version of that expression which would be more apropos, but I don’t remember how it goes), Eric went off to a particular bar in pursuit of one of the real girls he’d already made some amount of progress with.
(This was during one of his multiple splits with his then-wife Sally, by the way)
Not wanting to be a third wheel, or to go the particular bar he was headed to, I went off on my own to my regular bar.
While I was sitting at the bar, in walked Tiff and pulled up a stool right next to me.
If I had been able to hook up with Tiff while Eric was off with his latest toothless conquest, it would have been, in my opinion, the Universe’s best practical joke ever.
It was, of course, not to be.
I did at least try to engage Tiff in conversation, though. I recall that it was a very slow night at the bar, and, largely unwatched, the movie “Philadelphia” was on the TV. Tiff was looking up at it during the scene when Tom Hanks, while deathly ill, is on the stand testifying. I tried to initiate a conversation with her by commenting on the skillful use of cinematography in the scene.
Suffice to say that Tiff was not exactly a film buff, so once again the Universe opted for the path of least resistance and got a chuckle at my expense.
Of course, it’s worth noting that I do give the Universe plenty of opportunities. If I weren’t the sad, pathetic loser that I was back during the Natalie thing, the random encounter wouldn’t have been the comedic gold that it turned out to be.
Or if I were more dynamic and less of a nerd, I might have had a shot with Tiff.
And finally, if I could find more things to look forward to in life, the cancellation of DLM would have been less of a blow.
Still, there’s not all that much I can do. After all, the Universe is a bully that you can’t possibly stand up to, and once it attaches that “Kick Me” sign to your back, it’s pretty much stuck for life.
And in closing, I should note that sometimes the Universe goes for the little jab whenever I give it the opportunity, as it just did when I discovered that garlic and banana are two great tastes that don’t taste great together when I ate a banana shortly after mincing some garlic.
Oh look, you got me again. Good one.
Not that the day really had much going for it in the first place, but even so, it was just another piece of unnecessary cruelty on the part of the Universe.
I learned long ago that, while I’m not exactly Job or anything, the Universe does like to mess with me, and sometimes it’s just downright mean about it.
The best example of the Universe’s perverse and cruel sense of humor when it comes to Jon happened around two years ago in Tucson, in the days immediately prior to my move to Northern VA.
As most of the people who read these entries know, in those days I worked in a call center providing technical support for the same company that I still work for, albeit in an entirely different capacity.
(Again, most people reading this know which company that is, but I don’t think that company policy allows me to mention it by name under these circumstances, which is why I try to be at least a litte vague.)
In keeping with the demographics of the tech support industry, most of my co-workers were, to put it charitably, ugly as shit.
Actually, that’s not really true, but the fact of the matter remains that there were a lot of morbidly obese people, for example, altogether too many men, and basically very few women who were even remotely attractive.
That, and the simple fact that she was absolutely gorgeous, made Natalie really stand out.
I remember the first time I saw her. It was as if my eyes were actually drawn to her, and she seemed to have a glow around her (Seriously; read “Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance” and “Lila” for an examination of this phenomenon.) that made everyone around her fade into the shadows.
I knew that there was absolutely zero chance that she was single, and that was confirmed by “overhearing” conversations (okay, so I actively listened to what she was saying when I had the opportunity) that she had with other people on smoke breaks in which she made frequent reference to her boyfriend.
Still, she had entered my consciousness, and the fact that she was involved did nothing to diminish my interest in her.
It did, however, in conjunction with my self-esteem issues and general social awkwardness, keep me from trying to make a move on her, or even initiate a conversation.
Besides, she was, obviously, very popular, so it would have been almost impossible for me to get any sort of access to her.
One night, however, it was just the two of us out in the smoking area, and she actually initiated a conversation with me.
I knew that it didn’t indicate any interest in me on her part, as she was simply a friendly person and would have initiated a conversation with anyone.
Still, it did prove to be the first of many conversations. We didn’t exactly become friends; for example, I doubt that she ever even knew my name throughout most of the time that we talked.
However, we did talk frequently, and there were even times when she would come out to the smoking area and actually seek me out.
Throughout most of it I was awkward, nervous, and tongue-tied, so unless she was extremely naïve (which is possible) or just generally clueless (again, this is a possibility; I have to admit that most of my interest in her was physical), she had to have known that I was interested in her.
Even so, nothing ever did, or could, develop from this casual acquaintance.
You know, unless you count my complete obsession with her as “something.”
Fortunately my overwhelming laziness has always prevented my obsessive nature from turning me into anything even remotely dangerous. At worst, I annoy my friends a little with my incessant blathering about my obsession.
So, beyond simply manipulating circumstances to whatever extent I could to allow me to have some contact with her, I really didn’t do anything in the way of stalking.
I did try, unsuccessfully, to drive her out of my mind on several occasions. One such attempt resulted in writing a poem about/for her, which I thought might help purge the obsession, and which I am not going to share here.
I had a friend who kept encouraging me to ask her out and to give her the poem, though I think he was just doing so because he wanted to see me humiliated and crushed.
I did consider it, but ultimately I was too sensible/cowardly.
Until I found out that I was leaving.
On the Friday that marked my last day at work, I sent her an e-mail telling her how I felt, how much I regretted the fact that I would never get to know her better, and containing the poem.
In true cowardly form, I sent it to her fifteen minutes before the end of her shift (Yes, I was enough of a stalker that I knew her schedule), giving her a chance, though not much of one, to respond in some fashion.
I suppose that even though I knew that the timing effectively prevented anything from coming of it I thought that it would be cathartic in some fashion.
Honestly, I think that I was also hoping for some sort of big “movie moment” during which, a half an hour later when I got off work, she would be waiting for me at the door.
Naturally, she wasn’t.
I knew from conversations that we’d had that she didn’t own a computer, so if she hadn’t checked her mail before leaving work, she wouldn’t see it until Monday (I was leaving on the Wednesday following).
Over the weekend I did various things in preparation for leaving, and throughout it all I wondered how Natalie had reacted (or would react) to my message.
On Sunday I went to a nearby Wal-Mart in order to find my friend Jeff, who, so far as I knew, worked there. Jeff was a friend from my drinking period who had moved to Tucson from Michigan, basing his decision largely on the fact that I lived there. Once he arrived he found that I was still sober, and that when we weren’t drinking together we had very little in common.
The last time I’d seen him had been months before, shortly after I’d discovered that he and his girlfriend had moved out of the apartment they’d been living in. I had neglected to get his new address or phone number.
Still, I felt that I should let him know that I was leaving Tucson, so I stopped at the Wal-Mart to see if he was there.
He was, and after I said my goodbyes I decided that I would pick up the few things I needed while I was there, grabbed them, and then got in what appeared to be the shortest line.
The population of the metropolitan Tucson area, according to some sources, is roughly 800,000.
There are six Wal-Marts in the area.
In over a year of working at the call center I had never once “bumped into” one of my fellow employees outside of work.
Considering these facts, there is no chance that Natalie would be standing in line ahead of me – with her boyfriend, no less – unless God, Allah, Brahma, Buddha, the Universe, or whatever you want to call it, had simply decided to fuck with me.
There was one person standing in line directly ahead of me, separating me from her.
And of course, there was her boyfriend, also separating me from her.
The fact that I had to see her with her boyfriend would have been bad enough under any circumstances, but in this case it made it especially intolerable, as did the fact that I had no idea if she had read my e-mail or not.
If she had read it, how had she felt about it? Had she felt anything? What would happen if she saw me? Would she ignore me, which would hurt, or would she pretend like nothing happened?
I didn’t know what to do. On the one hand, I wanted to have one last chance to see her smile, and I also wanted to know if she had read my message and at least get a feel for how she had reacted to it, but on the other, if she had reacted negatively to the message, I didn’t think I’d want to know.
The boyfriend’s presence only complicated matters further.
It was, essentially, a no-win situation.
Ultimately I decided to just try not to be noticed, keeping my head moving so as to prevent her from getting a good look at me. I figured that if she noticed me and said something, fine, but if she didn’t, it wasn’t because I was avoiding her.
Well, not exactly, anyway.
Whatever the case, whether she saw me and chose to ignore me or didn’t see me, she and her boyfriend left without her ever saying a word to me.
That was the last time I ever saw her.
She never responded to my mail.
The last I heard, though I hadn’t actually sought out the update, my friend “Zalfiro,” who worked with her for a while, had informed me that she’d had a baby.
In any case, the point of all of this is that my random encounter with her (and her boyfriend) was a clear case of the Universe cruelly messing with me.
If for no other reason than to free myself from being the butt of its jokes, I’ve often wished that the Universe, every once in a while, would choose to laugh with me, but it almost never does, and certainly it never does so in a big way that would make up for some of the practical jokes it’s played on me in the past.
And there have been plenty of opportunities for it to do so.
In particular I remember a time back when I lived in Minnesota.
There was a girl that my friends and I had seen around town a lot. She looked rather a lot like a more voluptuous Sarah Michelle Gellar, and her name was Tiff.
Like any red-blooded heterosexual male, my friend Eric found Tiff extremely attractive and would have jumped at an opportunity to get to know her better (And by “get to know her better” I mean “nail her”).
Eric may be many things, but he is not a man who will waste time in pointless pursuit of a “dream girl” when there are plenty of available real girls to choose from (And by “real” I mean “real fat”).
So one night, adhering to principles of the maxim about a bird in the hand being worth two in the bush (there’s a “dirty” version of that expression which would be more apropos, but I don’t remember how it goes), Eric went off to a particular bar in pursuit of one of the real girls he’d already made some amount of progress with.
(This was during one of his multiple splits with his then-wife Sally, by the way)
Not wanting to be a third wheel, or to go the particular bar he was headed to, I went off on my own to my regular bar.
While I was sitting at the bar, in walked Tiff and pulled up a stool right next to me.
If I had been able to hook up with Tiff while Eric was off with his latest toothless conquest, it would have been, in my opinion, the Universe’s best practical joke ever.
It was, of course, not to be.
I did at least try to engage Tiff in conversation, though. I recall that it was a very slow night at the bar, and, largely unwatched, the movie “Philadelphia” was on the TV. Tiff was looking up at it during the scene when Tom Hanks, while deathly ill, is on the stand testifying. I tried to initiate a conversation with her by commenting on the skillful use of cinematography in the scene.
Suffice to say that Tiff was not exactly a film buff, so once again the Universe opted for the path of least resistance and got a chuckle at my expense.
Of course, it’s worth noting that I do give the Universe plenty of opportunities. If I weren’t the sad, pathetic loser that I was back during the Natalie thing, the random encounter wouldn’t have been the comedic gold that it turned out to be.
Or if I were more dynamic and less of a nerd, I might have had a shot with Tiff.
And finally, if I could find more things to look forward to in life, the cancellation of DLM would have been less of a blow.
Still, there’s not all that much I can do. After all, the Universe is a bully that you can’t possibly stand up to, and once it attaches that “Kick Me” sign to your back, it’s pretty much stuck for life.
And in closing, I should note that sometimes the Universe goes for the little jab whenever I give it the opportunity, as it just did when I discovered that garlic and banana are two great tastes that don’t taste great together when I ate a banana shortly after mincing some garlic.
Oh look, you got me again. Good one.
Different "Sin City" link
This trailer doesn't stutter:
"Sin City" Trailer
Knowing that the petition for bringing DLM back for a third season will undoubtedly fail, I'm forced to reallocate the the excitement and enthusiasm I had budgeted for the third season and give it all to "Sin City."
Of course, I do still have Season Two of DLM on DVD to look forward to, but knowing that nothing else is left taints that enthusiasm.
In any case, I hope that everyone out there will help ensure that "Sin City" is a huge success come April 1, 2005.
After all, "Sin City" has something for everyone. Action! Cars! Guns! Bullets! Babes! Bruce Willis! Romance! Cannibalism!
Like I said, something for everyone...
"Sin City" Trailer
Knowing that the petition for bringing DLM back for a third season will undoubtedly fail, I'm forced to reallocate the the excitement and enthusiasm I had budgeted for the third season and give it all to "Sin City."
Of course, I do still have Season Two of DLM on DVD to look forward to, but knowing that nothing else is left taints that enthusiasm.
In any case, I hope that everyone out there will help ensure that "Sin City" is a huge success come April 1, 2005.
After all, "Sin City" has something for everyone. Action! Cars! Guns! Bullets! Babes! Bruce Willis! Romance! Cannibalism!
Like I said, something for everyone...
A show about death that gives me a reason to live
Showtime has announced that "Dead Like Me" will not be returning for a third season.
In related news, the people at Showtime are a bunch of idiots with their heads up their asses.
As I have mentioned many times before ,when DLM is on the air it is the ONLY thing in life that I have to look forward to.
Its cancellation, therefore, means that after I've seen "Sin City" I will have absolutely nothing to look forward to in life.
There is a petition available here:
http://www.petitiononline.com/dlm1218/petition.html
If you are a fan of the show, or if you think that it's unfair for a premium cable network, whose ratings for anything are always going to be low no matter what to take away the only thing that I have look forward to, please sign it.
Actually, sign it no matter what. I don't care if you've never seen it or never even heard of it. Just do me a favor and sign the petition.
If you have multiple e-mail accounts, sign it multiple times.
Get everyone you know to sign it.
With all of the trash on TV it is imperative that we save what few treasures can be found.
In related news, the people at Showtime are a bunch of idiots with their heads up their asses.
As I have mentioned many times before ,when DLM is on the air it is the ONLY thing in life that I have to look forward to.
Its cancellation, therefore, means that after I've seen "Sin City" I will have absolutely nothing to look forward to in life.
There is a petition available here:
http://www.petitiononline.com/dlm1218/petition.html
If you are a fan of the show, or if you think that it's unfair for a premium cable network, whose ratings for anything are always going to be low no matter what to take away the only thing that I have look forward to, please sign it.
Actually, sign it no matter what. I don't care if you've never seen it or never even heard of it. Just do me a favor and sign the petition.
If you have multiple e-mail accounts, sign it multiple times.
Get everyone you know to sign it.
With all of the trash on TV it is imperative that we save what few treasures can be found.
Tuesday, December 21, 2004
Good news
Apart from finishing the picture I posted earlier and re-organizing my novel blog, today was fairly uneventful.
I did venture out into the world briefly in order to pick up a few things and to gas up my car.
I wanted to be sure that I have a full tank for the upcoming weekend, as my gas gauge is broken, so I don’t want to run into any surprises before I go in to get it fixed.
As usual, the whole trip took less time than getting ready did, especially given that I finally got around to shaving.
And that was pretty much the extent of the excitement for today.
Yesterday I actually got some very good news: my niece Jourdan, who is currently a senior in high school, found out that she has been accepted into the Pre-Med program at Michigan Tech.
While I’m obviously very proud, I have to admit that I’m also a little surprised.
Not because I doubt Jourdan’s intelligence or ability. Far from it; if anything, most of her life I’ve had perhaps a little too much faith in her, resulting in some unrealistic expectations.
However, despite the fact that I knew that she had the ability, I also thought that her grades hadn’t been quite where they should be in relation to her abilities.
But apparently I was mistaken, and for once, I’m glad I was wrong.
Michigan Tech is a very good school and…it was difficult to say that, as I went to Northern Michigan University, which has a very strong rivalry with Tech.
Jourdan had actually been accepted into the Pre-Med program there, too, but the real prize was being accepted into Tech.
I have to agree that, in this particular case, Tech is the better choice.
It’s also very close to home for her, so that will make things a easier for her and my sister.
Jourdan had actually surprised me once before when she expressed a desire to become a doctor, as she had previously stated that she wanted to be a veterinarian.
No one really expected it when she filled out the Pre-Med applications.
That she wants to help people comes as no surprise, though; Jourdan has always had a big heart.
In any case, I don’t have too much more to say. I just wanted to publicly state how proud I am of my niece, and that I’m glad that she proved me wrong.
I did venture out into the world briefly in order to pick up a few things and to gas up my car.
I wanted to be sure that I have a full tank for the upcoming weekend, as my gas gauge is broken, so I don’t want to run into any surprises before I go in to get it fixed.
As usual, the whole trip took less time than getting ready did, especially given that I finally got around to shaving.
And that was pretty much the extent of the excitement for today.
Yesterday I actually got some very good news: my niece Jourdan, who is currently a senior in high school, found out that she has been accepted into the Pre-Med program at Michigan Tech.
While I’m obviously very proud, I have to admit that I’m also a little surprised.
Not because I doubt Jourdan’s intelligence or ability. Far from it; if anything, most of her life I’ve had perhaps a little too much faith in her, resulting in some unrealistic expectations.
However, despite the fact that I knew that she had the ability, I also thought that her grades hadn’t been quite where they should be in relation to her abilities.
But apparently I was mistaken, and for once, I’m glad I was wrong.
Michigan Tech is a very good school and…it was difficult to say that, as I went to Northern Michigan University, which has a very strong rivalry with Tech.
Jourdan had actually been accepted into the Pre-Med program there, too, but the real prize was being accepted into Tech.
I have to agree that, in this particular case, Tech is the better choice.
It’s also very close to home for her, so that will make things a easier for her and my sister.
Jourdan had actually surprised me once before when she expressed a desire to become a doctor, as she had previously stated that she wanted to be a veterinarian.
No one really expected it when she filled out the Pre-Med applications.
That she wants to help people comes as no surprise, though; Jourdan has always had a big heart.
In any case, I don’t have too much more to say. I just wanted to publicly state how proud I am of my niece, and that I’m glad that she proved me wrong.
In case you're interested...
I've made some edits to my novel blog that make it considerably easier to navigate, and thereby read the actual novel. So if you're of a mind to read it, but haven't gotten around to it yet, be advised that doing so will now be easier.
Once again, it's located at:
http://www.15000years.blogspot.com
I welcome any comments on the story, but be advised that it is a very rough draft and was written with very little forethought, and the edits to the blog have not included any edits to the novel itself, so be gentle with me...
Once again, it's located at:
http://www.15000years.blogspot.com
I welcome any comments on the story, but be advised that it is a very rough draft and was written with very little forethought, and the edits to the blog have not included any edits to the novel itself, so be gentle with me...
Wet
So last week I stumbled across this great picture of Rachel Weisz in a wet, clinging nightgown.
After staring at it for a while and thinking "Mmm...Rachel Weisz in a wet, clinging nightgown," I realized that besides just generally being a great picture of Rachel Weisz, it could be a source image for a great picture of my character Ren.
And that's what we have here.
Overall, I'm very pleased with how well the image turned out, though I have to say that it was a LOT of work.
I think I captured the "clinging" effect really well, and I absolutely love how her face turned out.
I am a little iffy on the look of the droplets in the foreground, but despite that, I think this is one of the best pictures I've ever done of this particular character. It's sexy, but with the darkness and the slightly crazed expression on her face there's also a vague air of menace about it, which suits Ren very well.
New "Sin City" trailer is online
See it here:
http://www.aintitcool.com/display.cgi?id=19015
Be forewarned that the .mov file stutters pretty badly. If you're an AOL member, the streaming version available through AOL apparently plays much more smoothly.
Even with the stuttering, though, the trailer is very cool, and I find myself anticipating April eagerly, even though April's arrival will mean putting another candle on the cake for me...
http://www.aintitcool.com/display.cgi?id=19015
Be forewarned that the .mov file stutters pretty badly. If you're an AOL member, the streaming version available through AOL apparently plays much more smoothly.
Even with the stuttering, though, the trailer is very cool, and I find myself anticipating April eagerly, even though April's arrival will mean putting another candle on the cake for me...
Monday, December 20, 2004
The more things stay the same, the more things...stay the same
So we’re that much closer to finally getting the whole Christmas thing over with.
For my part, I’ll be working all day on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, so I won’t be doing much to acknowledge their passing.
Not that I would anyway, but the fact that I’m working largely takes away the element of choice.
On the topic of work, going back to it after eleven days off was difficult, and I found that even though the time off was largely spent doing nothing in particular, it was preferable to having to go in to work and actually do something.
On Friday I brought in the Nisu and Pumpkin Bread I’d made as something of a Christmas present for everyone at work, since pretty much everyone but me will be off during Christmas. Bunch of pansies, spending time with their families for the holidays…
Today started out with me waking up a bit before 8 and getting out of bed, then realizing that I had absolutely no reason whatsoever to get up that early, so I went back to bed.
At about 9:40 my phone rang.
It was the branch manager from my bank.
Yesterday morning on my way to work I decided to go through the drive-through ATM at the bank across the street and get some money, as I wanted to stop at 7-11 and pick up some orange juice and also have change to use in the vending machines throughout the day.
I put my card in, punched in my PIN, selected the type and amount of withdrawal, and everything was proceeding normally.
Because it’s the kind of ATM that actually takes the card in rather than just having you swipe it, before it gives you your cash it ejects your card.
At least, in theory it does.
This particular ATM attempted to eject the card, but failed, making it impossible for me to grab it.
This had happened to me once before, but I had found that after the ATM beeped for a while it pulled the card back in and attempted, successfully, to eject it again.
However, this time the second attempt at ejecting the card also failed, and after beeping at me insistently, it pulled the card back in once more.
The screen said, “Transaction cancelled due to customer time-out. Your card has been retained for security. Please contact your branch.”
So not only did I not get my cash, I had, for the day at least, lost my check card.
I have to wonder if anyone watched the footage of me on the security camera leaning out my car window screaming “God dammit!” and gesturing wildly.
In any case, the branch manager called me this morning to inform me that I had until 3:30 this afternoon to pick up my card in person, otherwise they would send it back to the main branch and it would be mailed to me from there.
I had planned to go over there today anyway, but had wanted to sleep in just a little longer. Still, after I’d gotten the call I figured that I might as well get up.
After taking a shower and talking to my mother I decided to walk over to the bank.
Once I got outside, though, I decided to drive, as it was pretty chilly out.
Having recovered my check card, I put it to use at Safeway, picking up a few things that I needed, most notably some cartridges for my Mach 3. I last shaved, using my electric razor, on Thursday night before I went to bed. Typically I would also shave on Friday night, and then again on Saturday night. I shave before I go to bed in order to save some time in the morning and to allow my skin some time to recover from the irritation so that I don’t have to show up to work with my skin all red and splotchy.
Of course, my skin is generally sort of red and splotchy anyway, but immediately after I shave it looks even worse.
Anyway, having neglected to shave on Friday night, by Saturday night it was too late to use my electric razor, as once I get two days’ growth, shaving with an electric razor becomes too painful. And I didn’t have any cartridges for my Mach 3, so I basically had to go unshaven most of the weekend.
I doubt that anyone really noticed (or cared) though, but when I went out today I was looking pretty grizzled. Once again, though, I doubt that anyone noticed (or cared).
A while back I discovered that employees of the company I work for get a discount on Sprint PCS, which is the cell phone service I have.
Last week I finally got around to calling in to get the discount applied to my service. The girl I talked to did everything she needed to do and informed me that my existing account would be closed after I paid the remaining balance when it was due (December 27th), and I would begin a new billing cycle on January 13th.
I didn’t think much more about it until 4:30 the next morning when I woke up hearing what I later identified as Brahms Hungarian Dance No. 5.
Initially, in my sleepy state, I thought I’d imagined it. It wouldn’t be the first time; for example, I remember once being awoken by the sound of “Whale and Wasp” by Alice In Chains playing at an extremely high volume...in my head. It was the damnedest thing.
In any case, as I got out of bed and stumbled sleepily to the bathroom, I realized that a bit of classical music that sounded suspiciously like a cell phone ring tone was a bit too esoteric for me to imagine, and so I went into the dining room, which is where I’d left my phone before going to bed.
I knew that the particular music I’d heard wasn’t my ring tone or the tone I had for notifying me of new voicemail, so I decided that it must be a text message.
I was right about that, but wrong in my assumption that it was just a notice (ill-timed, as all notices sent out from Sprint tend to be) about the change to my service.
In fact, it said that my service had been shut off for non-payment.
Sighing, I resolved to deal with it later, and went back to bed.
Once I got up for the day I logged on to the Sprint PCS Web site to see what was going on.
Or rather, I tried to log on, but it insisted that my password was invalid. I made the only call I could on my now nearly useless phone and was soon connected with someone at Sprint, though that was only after an automated voice gave me a statement of my account, which claimed that I owed $318.
The customer service person I spoke with didn’t really clarify exactly what had happened (though I would assume it probably was some sort of early termination fee), but did say that he knew what was going on. He said he had gotten rid of half of the charges, and was going to speak to someone else who would take care of the rest. He also explained that, by default, my password to the Web site had been reset to the last four digits of my SSN.
Ultimately, after leaving me on hold for a while, he came back and told me that everything was back to the way it was supposed to have been when I made the switch to the discounted service, though actually the credits that had been applied to my account, according to the guy from Sprint, had brought the remaining balance I owed to about $5 less than what it had been before this whole thing started.
However, when I signed back on to the Web site later, I found that my balance had been zeroed out, so I now owe nothing, which is pretty cool, all things considered.
I am at least somewhat concerned that there will be further snafus ahead, but for the time being at least, things are cool.
Still, if I’ve learned anything, it’s that they seldom stay that way for long…
For my part, I’ll be working all day on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, so I won’t be doing much to acknowledge their passing.
Not that I would anyway, but the fact that I’m working largely takes away the element of choice.
On the topic of work, going back to it after eleven days off was difficult, and I found that even though the time off was largely spent doing nothing in particular, it was preferable to having to go in to work and actually do something.
On Friday I brought in the Nisu and Pumpkin Bread I’d made as something of a Christmas present for everyone at work, since pretty much everyone but me will be off during Christmas. Bunch of pansies, spending time with their families for the holidays…
Today started out with me waking up a bit before 8 and getting out of bed, then realizing that I had absolutely no reason whatsoever to get up that early, so I went back to bed.
At about 9:40 my phone rang.
It was the branch manager from my bank.
Yesterday morning on my way to work I decided to go through the drive-through ATM at the bank across the street and get some money, as I wanted to stop at 7-11 and pick up some orange juice and also have change to use in the vending machines throughout the day.
I put my card in, punched in my PIN, selected the type and amount of withdrawal, and everything was proceeding normally.
Because it’s the kind of ATM that actually takes the card in rather than just having you swipe it, before it gives you your cash it ejects your card.
At least, in theory it does.
This particular ATM attempted to eject the card, but failed, making it impossible for me to grab it.
This had happened to me once before, but I had found that after the ATM beeped for a while it pulled the card back in and attempted, successfully, to eject it again.
However, this time the second attempt at ejecting the card also failed, and after beeping at me insistently, it pulled the card back in once more.
The screen said, “Transaction cancelled due to customer time-out. Your card has been retained for security. Please contact your branch.”
So not only did I not get my cash, I had, for the day at least, lost my check card.
I have to wonder if anyone watched the footage of me on the security camera leaning out my car window screaming “God dammit!” and gesturing wildly.
In any case, the branch manager called me this morning to inform me that I had until 3:30 this afternoon to pick up my card in person, otherwise they would send it back to the main branch and it would be mailed to me from there.
I had planned to go over there today anyway, but had wanted to sleep in just a little longer. Still, after I’d gotten the call I figured that I might as well get up.
After taking a shower and talking to my mother I decided to walk over to the bank.
Once I got outside, though, I decided to drive, as it was pretty chilly out.
Having recovered my check card, I put it to use at Safeway, picking up a few things that I needed, most notably some cartridges for my Mach 3. I last shaved, using my electric razor, on Thursday night before I went to bed. Typically I would also shave on Friday night, and then again on Saturday night. I shave before I go to bed in order to save some time in the morning and to allow my skin some time to recover from the irritation so that I don’t have to show up to work with my skin all red and splotchy.
Of course, my skin is generally sort of red and splotchy anyway, but immediately after I shave it looks even worse.
Anyway, having neglected to shave on Friday night, by Saturday night it was too late to use my electric razor, as once I get two days’ growth, shaving with an electric razor becomes too painful. And I didn’t have any cartridges for my Mach 3, so I basically had to go unshaven most of the weekend.
I doubt that anyone really noticed (or cared) though, but when I went out today I was looking pretty grizzled. Once again, though, I doubt that anyone noticed (or cared).
A while back I discovered that employees of the company I work for get a discount on Sprint PCS, which is the cell phone service I have.
Last week I finally got around to calling in to get the discount applied to my service. The girl I talked to did everything she needed to do and informed me that my existing account would be closed after I paid the remaining balance when it was due (December 27th), and I would begin a new billing cycle on January 13th.
I didn’t think much more about it until 4:30 the next morning when I woke up hearing what I later identified as Brahms Hungarian Dance No. 5.
Initially, in my sleepy state, I thought I’d imagined it. It wouldn’t be the first time; for example, I remember once being awoken by the sound of “Whale and Wasp” by Alice In Chains playing at an extremely high volume...in my head. It was the damnedest thing.
In any case, as I got out of bed and stumbled sleepily to the bathroom, I realized that a bit of classical music that sounded suspiciously like a cell phone ring tone was a bit too esoteric for me to imagine, and so I went into the dining room, which is where I’d left my phone before going to bed.
I knew that the particular music I’d heard wasn’t my ring tone or the tone I had for notifying me of new voicemail, so I decided that it must be a text message.
I was right about that, but wrong in my assumption that it was just a notice (ill-timed, as all notices sent out from Sprint tend to be) about the change to my service.
In fact, it said that my service had been shut off for non-payment.
Sighing, I resolved to deal with it later, and went back to bed.
Once I got up for the day I logged on to the Sprint PCS Web site to see what was going on.
Or rather, I tried to log on, but it insisted that my password was invalid. I made the only call I could on my now nearly useless phone and was soon connected with someone at Sprint, though that was only after an automated voice gave me a statement of my account, which claimed that I owed $318.
The customer service person I spoke with didn’t really clarify exactly what had happened (though I would assume it probably was some sort of early termination fee), but did say that he knew what was going on. He said he had gotten rid of half of the charges, and was going to speak to someone else who would take care of the rest. He also explained that, by default, my password to the Web site had been reset to the last four digits of my SSN.
Ultimately, after leaving me on hold for a while, he came back and told me that everything was back to the way it was supposed to have been when I made the switch to the discounted service, though actually the credits that had been applied to my account, according to the guy from Sprint, had brought the remaining balance I owed to about $5 less than what it had been before this whole thing started.
However, when I signed back on to the Web site later, I found that my balance had been zeroed out, so I now owe nothing, which is pretty cool, all things considered.
I am at least somewhat concerned that there will be further snafus ahead, but for the time being at least, things are cool.
Still, if I’ve learned anything, it’s that they seldom stay that way for long…
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