I forgot to mention that during that presentation one unusual thing happened.
Let me say first that I almost never get phone calls.
That’s not a complaint, just a statement of fact. Though I pretty much always take my cell phone with me, I take it for granted that it’s not going to ring.
So imagine my surprise when I ended up being the jackass who gets a phone call in the middle of the presentation.
What are the odds of me getting a phone call?
I’m assuming it was just a wrong number, as I didn’t recognize it, and whoever it was didn’t leave a message. Besides, anyone who knows me would have either known that I was going to be at the presentation, or that I would ordinarily be sleeping at that time on a Friday night. Beyond that, one of the very few people likely to call me was actually sitting next to me at the time.
So that was annoying. I’m almost inclined to call the number back, but I just don’t care that much. Just thought it was worth mentioning.
Saturday, May 07, 2005
Adventures In Misanthropy
It always feels weird to not be working.
There’s a vague sense of anxiety, as if you’re playing hooky, even though you’re entitled to not be at work.
In terms of how much time off I get each year I really don’t use it very often, particularly considering that I never take sick days.
As it stands, even after taking off this weekend, possibly taking off a day next weekend, and taking off the weekend at the end of the month, by the end of the year I’ll still have almost 80 hours of vacation time.
Typically I end up rolling over 40 hours (which is the maximum you can) into my vacation bank for the next year, thus my available time keeps building and building.
Too bad I don’t really have anything to do with that time.
Sure, I could go on vacations by myself because, you know, that’s not pathetic.
I suppose it wouldn’t be any worse than what I typically do to burn off the vacation time (apart from what has proven to be the annual trip home, at any rate), which is basically what I’m doing now: nothing.
So far today the only thing I did was meet Kathleen to do a little bit of shopping. I bought another little file cabinet thing like I bought a while back. Placed next to the other one on the side of my desk, it gives me a good place to put my printer/copier/scanner, and now I can easily access it without getting out of my chair, and thus the march of laziness advances on…for a little while at least, because, you know, it’s laziness…
In any case, I had also hoped to buy some new shoes, as the shoes I currently have are falling apart. I only looked at one store (going shopping again tomorrow), and it kind of annoyed me. They had an okay pair on clearance for a decent price, but they didn’t have any in my size. Then I found another pair that I kind of liked on sale, but again, none in my size. There was an empty box that, presumably, once contained a pair in my size, but that didn’t do me much good.
Honestly, there was a specific style of shoe I was looking for, though, and while they had that style for kids and for women they didn’t have any for men.
So maybe I’ll have better luck tomorrow.
I also went into Wilson’s Leather Store to see if they had any decent sales going on. They did, but it did me no good as the really good deals were only on the women’s jackets. Beyond the fact that the men’s jackets didn’t have markdowns comparable to the women’s, there seemed to be a lot fewer men’s jackets overall. It seems like they may be turning into a women’s store. Ah well.
After I got home I couldn’t really motivate myself to do much of anything, so, because I could, I took a nap.
Once I got up I was hungry, but I didn’t feel like making anything, so I walked over to the Chinese place across the street.
When I got home and opened the bag, the highlight of my day proved to be the fact that I had TWO fortune cookies. Suckers! Just because I ordered two meals doesn’t mean that I was ordering for two people! Well, unless you count my fat ass as a separate person…
While I ate I sat down to watch “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind,” which I had recorded a while ago.
It was okay. The basic premise was interesting, and, surprisingly, Jim Carrey put in a pretty subdued performance, but overall…meh.
For the most part I was just annoyed; I hate watching movies in which lonely, pathetic losers have random encounters with quirky hot chicks that eventually lead to relationships. That sort of thing just gives hope to the hopeless, and that’s the last thing we…um, I mean, they need.
Anyway, last night Kathleen and I went to that presentation by the writers group.
There were a lot more people there than I expected, but they were essentially the kind of people I expected: primarily middle-aged housewives.
The presentation was kind of interesting, but the room it was held in really wasn’t the right venue for it.
Basically they did some sort of role-playing, acting out the process of how an editor presents a manuscript to all the parties involved. The idea was for us to apply what we saw in our approach not only to trying to sell our work, but in how we construct it in the first place.
The presentation was held in what appeared to be the room where the city council meets. Sitting in rows as we were, in what I’m assuming are the benches (very much like church pews) where residents sit facing the council who would be sitting at the front of the room, we were often unable to see who was talking.
They only had time for two people to go through the motions, describing their books as if they were the editors trying to sell the books on their behalf.
They did one fiction and one non-fiction.
One woman, who had volunteered to pitch her book, was shot down. At first she took it quietly, but during the Q&A at the end she took the agent (who was running the show) to task. Basically, her book was a collection of essays, which, as he tried to explain, would go through a much different process. Eventually she just took his, and the editors’, word for it, but I still don’t think she understood, even though the explanation, which I won’t get into, was pretty clear.
Afterwards, I said to Kathleen, “That lady said her book was a collection of essays about women, for women, and by women…I can point out three problems with that right off the bat.”
I was joking, of course.
And that’s sort of the problem. Throughout the whole presentation Kathleen and I were, mostly successfully, restraining ourselves, doing our damnedest to not make fun of everyone there, or to make a big joke out of the whole thing.
It was kind of distressing; evidently it’s not possible to take the two of us out into polite society, even when it’s for something we’re interested in.
But honestly, I think that the real problem is that people just suck. Most of them were so annoying, like the ones who would say, “Oh! I read that and I loved it!” whenever one of the editors would talk about one of the books she had helped get published. So? Who cares? What does it add to the discourse for us to learn that you read some book and loved it?
Even worse were the people who would, almost as if on cue, laugh at every even somewhat clever thing the presenters would say.
One of the people pitching her book to the role-playing panel had organized her presentation well using the “tip sheet” we’d been provided, but her overall idea was kind of cheesy. It had the feel of “fan fiction,” an amateurish (even though she had participated in some renowned writing workshop) and almost childish work. Kind of an unfair, snap judgment, I admit, but I would imagine it’s accurate.
The second person, who was working on a non-fiction book, though, was another matter entirely. That guy had his shit together, and made Kathleen and I both feel like we suck.
Thus we had to content ourselves to make fun of the fact that he was bald and gay.
Still, despite all our misanthropy, and a few other gripes about the format, it was an interesting presentation.
I don’t imagine I’ll get involved with the group, simply because everything they do seems to happen on Fridays, and while I could do it for a while, I don’t want to have to take time off on Saturdays just to be able to go, nor am I willing to sacrifice any of my sleep on Friday nights.
Still, we picked up some pamphlets and there are some workshops and seminars during the week that look interesting. So we’ll see.
If nothing else, while I was there I got a few ideas, so that’s something. Of course, that’s really dependent on me having more success with my attempts at getting myself to actually write anything.
But I am making some progress in that regard, and really, the people there should help to motivate me. After all, middle-age isn’t that far away, and while I’ll never be a housewife, I don’t want to be like most of those people, still desperately pursuing some elusive dream and foolishly deluding myself into thinking that it’s actually within reach.
Of course, maybe the real inspiration should be to just give up now.
I don’t know, just a thought.
In any case, I should find something to do with this extra time that I don’t normally have.
It’s been so long since I’ve worked a normal schedule that I don’t even know what’s on TV on Saturday s, but I guess there’s one way to find out.
There’s a vague sense of anxiety, as if you’re playing hooky, even though you’re entitled to not be at work.
In terms of how much time off I get each year I really don’t use it very often, particularly considering that I never take sick days.
As it stands, even after taking off this weekend, possibly taking off a day next weekend, and taking off the weekend at the end of the month, by the end of the year I’ll still have almost 80 hours of vacation time.
Typically I end up rolling over 40 hours (which is the maximum you can) into my vacation bank for the next year, thus my available time keeps building and building.
Too bad I don’t really have anything to do with that time.
Sure, I could go on vacations by myself because, you know, that’s not pathetic.
I suppose it wouldn’t be any worse than what I typically do to burn off the vacation time (apart from what has proven to be the annual trip home, at any rate), which is basically what I’m doing now: nothing.
So far today the only thing I did was meet Kathleen to do a little bit of shopping. I bought another little file cabinet thing like I bought a while back. Placed next to the other one on the side of my desk, it gives me a good place to put my printer/copier/scanner, and now I can easily access it without getting out of my chair, and thus the march of laziness advances on…for a little while at least, because, you know, it’s laziness…
In any case, I had also hoped to buy some new shoes, as the shoes I currently have are falling apart. I only looked at one store (going shopping again tomorrow), and it kind of annoyed me. They had an okay pair on clearance for a decent price, but they didn’t have any in my size. Then I found another pair that I kind of liked on sale, but again, none in my size. There was an empty box that, presumably, once contained a pair in my size, but that didn’t do me much good.
Honestly, there was a specific style of shoe I was looking for, though, and while they had that style for kids and for women they didn’t have any for men.
So maybe I’ll have better luck tomorrow.
I also went into Wilson’s Leather Store to see if they had any decent sales going on. They did, but it did me no good as the really good deals were only on the women’s jackets. Beyond the fact that the men’s jackets didn’t have markdowns comparable to the women’s, there seemed to be a lot fewer men’s jackets overall. It seems like they may be turning into a women’s store. Ah well.
After I got home I couldn’t really motivate myself to do much of anything, so, because I could, I took a nap.
Once I got up I was hungry, but I didn’t feel like making anything, so I walked over to the Chinese place across the street.
When I got home and opened the bag, the highlight of my day proved to be the fact that I had TWO fortune cookies. Suckers! Just because I ordered two meals doesn’t mean that I was ordering for two people! Well, unless you count my fat ass as a separate person…
While I ate I sat down to watch “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind,” which I had recorded a while ago.
It was okay. The basic premise was interesting, and, surprisingly, Jim Carrey put in a pretty subdued performance, but overall…meh.
For the most part I was just annoyed; I hate watching movies in which lonely, pathetic losers have random encounters with quirky hot chicks that eventually lead to relationships. That sort of thing just gives hope to the hopeless, and that’s the last thing we…um, I mean, they need.
Anyway, last night Kathleen and I went to that presentation by the writers group.
There were a lot more people there than I expected, but they were essentially the kind of people I expected: primarily middle-aged housewives.
The presentation was kind of interesting, but the room it was held in really wasn’t the right venue for it.
Basically they did some sort of role-playing, acting out the process of how an editor presents a manuscript to all the parties involved. The idea was for us to apply what we saw in our approach not only to trying to sell our work, but in how we construct it in the first place.
The presentation was held in what appeared to be the room where the city council meets. Sitting in rows as we were, in what I’m assuming are the benches (very much like church pews) where residents sit facing the council who would be sitting at the front of the room, we were often unable to see who was talking.
They only had time for two people to go through the motions, describing their books as if they were the editors trying to sell the books on their behalf.
They did one fiction and one non-fiction.
One woman, who had volunteered to pitch her book, was shot down. At first she took it quietly, but during the Q&A at the end she took the agent (who was running the show) to task. Basically, her book was a collection of essays, which, as he tried to explain, would go through a much different process. Eventually she just took his, and the editors’, word for it, but I still don’t think she understood, even though the explanation, which I won’t get into, was pretty clear.
Afterwards, I said to Kathleen, “That lady said her book was a collection of essays about women, for women, and by women…I can point out three problems with that right off the bat.”
I was joking, of course.
And that’s sort of the problem. Throughout the whole presentation Kathleen and I were, mostly successfully, restraining ourselves, doing our damnedest to not make fun of everyone there, or to make a big joke out of the whole thing.
It was kind of distressing; evidently it’s not possible to take the two of us out into polite society, even when it’s for something we’re interested in.
But honestly, I think that the real problem is that people just suck. Most of them were so annoying, like the ones who would say, “Oh! I read that and I loved it!” whenever one of the editors would talk about one of the books she had helped get published. So? Who cares? What does it add to the discourse for us to learn that you read some book and loved it?
Even worse were the people who would, almost as if on cue, laugh at every even somewhat clever thing the presenters would say.
One of the people pitching her book to the role-playing panel had organized her presentation well using the “tip sheet” we’d been provided, but her overall idea was kind of cheesy. It had the feel of “fan fiction,” an amateurish (even though she had participated in some renowned writing workshop) and almost childish work. Kind of an unfair, snap judgment, I admit, but I would imagine it’s accurate.
The second person, who was working on a non-fiction book, though, was another matter entirely. That guy had his shit together, and made Kathleen and I both feel like we suck.
Thus we had to content ourselves to make fun of the fact that he was bald and gay.
Still, despite all our misanthropy, and a few other gripes about the format, it was an interesting presentation.
I don’t imagine I’ll get involved with the group, simply because everything they do seems to happen on Fridays, and while I could do it for a while, I don’t want to have to take time off on Saturdays just to be able to go, nor am I willing to sacrifice any of my sleep on Friday nights.
Still, we picked up some pamphlets and there are some workshops and seminars during the week that look interesting. So we’ll see.
If nothing else, while I was there I got a few ideas, so that’s something. Of course, that’s really dependent on me having more success with my attempts at getting myself to actually write anything.
But I am making some progress in that regard, and really, the people there should help to motivate me. After all, middle-age isn’t that far away, and while I’ll never be a housewife, I don’t want to be like most of those people, still desperately pursuing some elusive dream and foolishly deluding myself into thinking that it’s actually within reach.
Of course, maybe the real inspiration should be to just give up now.
I don’t know, just a thought.
In any case, I should find something to do with this extra time that I don’t normally have.
It’s been so long since I’ve worked a normal schedule that I don’t even know what’s on TV on Saturday s, but I guess there’s one way to find out.
A Great Mother's Day Present!
A while back when I was driving home from work I had a near-miss with some jackass who cut me off. Said jackass looked back and me in his rearview mirror and shrugged.
The jackass was older and didn't appear to know what he was doing or where he was going and I was the person who almost had to pay for his ignorance.
When I saw him shrugging, seemingly apologeticaly, I said, though I knew he couldn't hear me, "It's not my fault you suck."
It occurred to me then that I had just stumbled upon a good slogan.
So with that in mind, I created the following:
If you go to www.zazzle.com you can purchase a shirt featuring this pearl of wisdom.
You can customize it by changing the color and type of the shirt.
Best of all, if you buy one (or, you know, a hundred), a portion of the profits go to me! And you want me to get profits, don't you?
To be on the safe side I put the shirt into the "PG-13" category, so in order to buy it you'd have to create a Zazzle account (for free) and set your age limit high enough. Then you can just do a search for "suck," which seems like an oddly appropriate way to find me...
In any case, once you do you'll see that I have other products available (mostly prints) featuring some of my artwork.
I'll be the first to admit that the art featured there isn't my best work, but some of it's okay.
The main problem is that my best work tends to be my celebrity portraiture (Britney, Jessica, etc.), which brings up the question of legality if I try selling them.
In fact, at one point I decided to take my chances and post some of my Britney pics as products, figuring that, at worst, I'd get a "cease and desist" letter, at which point I'd take them down.
I never actually received any notification or anything, but Zazzle just pulled the Britney stuff, so I guess that answered the question of whether or not I could get away with trying to sell them via Zazzle...
In any case, I may start creating some more original products.
Besides buying my products and making me some money you can actually use Zazzle for printing your own photos on shirts, posters, cups, etc. Their prices are reasonable and the quality is very good, so that could make it worth creating an account anyway.
In any case, I need to do some stuff, but I will be back later.
The jackass was older and didn't appear to know what he was doing or where he was going and I was the person who almost had to pay for his ignorance.
When I saw him shrugging, seemingly apologeticaly, I said, though I knew he couldn't hear me, "It's not my fault you suck."
It occurred to me then that I had just stumbled upon a good slogan.
So with that in mind, I created the following:
If you go to www.zazzle.com you can purchase a shirt featuring this pearl of wisdom.
You can customize it by changing the color and type of the shirt.
Best of all, if you buy one (or, you know, a hundred), a portion of the profits go to me! And you want me to get profits, don't you?
To be on the safe side I put the shirt into the "PG-13" category, so in order to buy it you'd have to create a Zazzle account (for free) and set your age limit high enough. Then you can just do a search for "suck," which seems like an oddly appropriate way to find me...
In any case, once you do you'll see that I have other products available (mostly prints) featuring some of my artwork.
I'll be the first to admit that the art featured there isn't my best work, but some of it's okay.
The main problem is that my best work tends to be my celebrity portraiture (Britney, Jessica, etc.), which brings up the question of legality if I try selling them.
In fact, at one point I decided to take my chances and post some of my Britney pics as products, figuring that, at worst, I'd get a "cease and desist" letter, at which point I'd take them down.
I never actually received any notification or anything, but Zazzle just pulled the Britney stuff, so I guess that answered the question of whether or not I could get away with trying to sell them via Zazzle...
In any case, I may start creating some more original products.
Besides buying my products and making me some money you can actually use Zazzle for printing your own photos on shirts, posters, cups, etc. Their prices are reasonable and the quality is very good, so that could make it worth creating an account anyway.
In any case, I need to do some stuff, but I will be back later.
Thursday, May 05, 2005
Live And Learn (And Spend Money Needlessly)
So I got my Firewire cable (as I knew he would, the FedEx guy finally came when I decided to stop waiting and go for a walk, though I spotted him and was able to get back in time). I ran it from the DVR to the computer, turned the DVR on, and the Windows "Add New Hardware Wizard," as expected, popped up to install the drivers.
...
Therein lay the problem.
While I had no driver disk, I thought that Windows would either download drivers from the Internet, or, and this is what I was mostly expecting, it would just recognize the DVR's hard drive as a hard drive in much the same fashion that it recognizes the hard drive in my MP3 player.
Neither proved to be the case, and though Windows recognized that something was connected to the computer, it couldn’t learn how to use it.
So that was discouraging, but, undaunted, I went out onto the Web to find some kind of workaround.
And I did.
Only it didn’t work, so it wasn’t so much a workaround as a…well, just an “around,” I guess.
Actually, the workaround wasn’t really what I wanted anyway. What I wanted was a direct transfer from one hard drive to another, but the workaround essentially involved using the Firewire port to do the same thing that I can already do via my TV tuner card.
Kind of, at least.
Basically, it involved installing a driver for the DVR that would allow Windows to recognize it as a video source, then running a program that would encode the video (and audio) stream directly to the hard drive.
The problem was that I couldn’t get the software to recognize that the driver for the DVR was installed.
But like I said, this would essentially be the same as using my TV software to record a program to my hard drive, and would not be the simple drag and drop transfer I was looking for.
The one advantage to this system, though, would be that it would bypass my TV tuner card, so, for example, I could encode HD video files directly to my hard drive without losing quality due to the limitations of my tuner card, which is not an HD tuner.
But, like I said, it didn’t work anyway.
So that brings the total number of Firewire cables I’ve purchased for no reason to two.
That wouldn’t bother me so much if they were cheap, but they’re on the pricey side, particularly considering that they’re useless to me.
But whatever. In the future I may still acquire Firewire devices.
If nothing else, my external hard drive does have a Firewire connection, so if I wanted, once it arrives I could sacrifice 40 Mbps of speed and use the Firewire connection rather than the USB 2.0.
We’ll see, I guess.
On the topic of the DVR, the other night I set it to record “Bowling for Columbine,” and today I decided to watch it.
No matter what you may think about Moore or his views, or the spin he places on the information presented, there’s no denying that “Bowling” is interesting. Personally, I found the animated “Brief History of the United States” especially entertaining.
One of the most famous scenes from the movie involves Moore, who is himself a lifetime member of the NRA, going into a bank and opening up a CD and receiving a rifle for it.
I found the scene kind of funny, as the bank that he went to, which is in Michigan, was a bank that I used to have an account with when I lived there (though of course he had gone to a branch in the lower peninsula).
For those of you wondering, the rifle was not his “free gift” for opening an account. Basically he received the rifle in lieu of getting interest on the CD. That’s actually not too unusual back home. In some cases you can get other, less lethal items, such as grandfather clocks, though I suppose that you could kill someone with a grandfather clock, if you were of a mind to do so.
As I said, the movie was interesting, and it’s something that I may write more about some other time (consider that topic tossed into the 99 Cent Bargain Bin of Ideas).
I’m sure you’ll note that this entry is not accompanied by a picture of Rachael Leigh Cook. Because I was busy messing with the Firewire thing for a while and then I watched “Bowling,” I never got around working on it again.
I’m sure that I’ll have plenty of time over the weekend to work on it (even her accursed, yet lovely, hair), though, since I’m not working for most of it.
However, I am working tomorrow, so that’s going to do it for now.
...
Therein lay the problem.
While I had no driver disk, I thought that Windows would either download drivers from the Internet, or, and this is what I was mostly expecting, it would just recognize the DVR's hard drive as a hard drive in much the same fashion that it recognizes the hard drive in my MP3 player.
Neither proved to be the case, and though Windows recognized that something was connected to the computer, it couldn’t learn how to use it.
So that was discouraging, but, undaunted, I went out onto the Web to find some kind of workaround.
And I did.
Only it didn’t work, so it wasn’t so much a workaround as a…well, just an “around,” I guess.
Actually, the workaround wasn’t really what I wanted anyway. What I wanted was a direct transfer from one hard drive to another, but the workaround essentially involved using the Firewire port to do the same thing that I can already do via my TV tuner card.
Kind of, at least.
Basically, it involved installing a driver for the DVR that would allow Windows to recognize it as a video source, then running a program that would encode the video (and audio) stream directly to the hard drive.
The problem was that I couldn’t get the software to recognize that the driver for the DVR was installed.
But like I said, this would essentially be the same as using my TV software to record a program to my hard drive, and would not be the simple drag and drop transfer I was looking for.
The one advantage to this system, though, would be that it would bypass my TV tuner card, so, for example, I could encode HD video files directly to my hard drive without losing quality due to the limitations of my tuner card, which is not an HD tuner.
But, like I said, it didn’t work anyway.
So that brings the total number of Firewire cables I’ve purchased for no reason to two.
That wouldn’t bother me so much if they were cheap, but they’re on the pricey side, particularly considering that they’re useless to me.
But whatever. In the future I may still acquire Firewire devices.
If nothing else, my external hard drive does have a Firewire connection, so if I wanted, once it arrives I could sacrifice 40 Mbps of speed and use the Firewire connection rather than the USB 2.0.
We’ll see, I guess.
On the topic of the DVR, the other night I set it to record “Bowling for Columbine,” and today I decided to watch it.
No matter what you may think about Moore or his views, or the spin he places on the information presented, there’s no denying that “Bowling” is interesting. Personally, I found the animated “Brief History of the United States” especially entertaining.
One of the most famous scenes from the movie involves Moore, who is himself a lifetime member of the NRA, going into a bank and opening up a CD and receiving a rifle for it.
I found the scene kind of funny, as the bank that he went to, which is in Michigan, was a bank that I used to have an account with when I lived there (though of course he had gone to a branch in the lower peninsula).
For those of you wondering, the rifle was not his “free gift” for opening an account. Basically he received the rifle in lieu of getting interest on the CD. That’s actually not too unusual back home. In some cases you can get other, less lethal items, such as grandfather clocks, though I suppose that you could kill someone with a grandfather clock, if you were of a mind to do so.
As I said, the movie was interesting, and it’s something that I may write more about some other time (consider that topic tossed into the 99 Cent Bargain Bin of Ideas).
I’m sure you’ll note that this entry is not accompanied by a picture of Rachael Leigh Cook. Because I was busy messing with the Firewire thing for a while and then I watched “Bowling,” I never got around working on it again.
I’m sure that I’ll have plenty of time over the weekend to work on it (even her accursed, yet lovely, hair), though, since I’m not working for most of it.
However, I am working tomorrow, so that’s going to do it for now.
Cinco De Mayo!
So it’s Cinco de Mayo today.
Liz Phair has a song by that name, which I’m actually listening to right now as my way of celebrating Mexico’s…umm….Mexico’s acknowledgement of it being the day after the 4th. Or something.
Anyway, I know it’s not much in the way of celebration, but what else am I going to do? Even if I still drank, drinking tequila, or Corona, or Dos Equis would be out of the question anyway (Yuck!).
In any case, Cinco de Mayo has significance to me beyond the fact that it’s a fancy way of saying that it’s the day before the 6th. After all, a year ago today I quit smoking.
Yay me! Or maybe under the circumstances I should say ¡Viva me!
I’m not really sure how I should go about celebrating my year of nicotine-free living.
I was thinking I might pick up a pack of Marlboros and smoke it as a way of celebrating.
Kidding! I have no intention of ever smoking again, and while I do still sometimes miss it, I know that I’m better off this way.
At least that’s what I keep telling myself.
Honestly, I can’t say that I really want to smoke, but you have to consider that I did it, pretty much day in-day out, from the age of 14 to the age of 32. It’s going to take a little longer than a year to get the habit totally out of my system, I think.
So far I haven’t accomplished much today. I got up, failed to go for a walk, called my mother, talked to her for a while, randomly surfed the Web, and ended up here, writing this.
Given that the tracking number indicates that it’s currently on the truck, at some point this afternoon FedEx will be delivering the Firewire cable I ordered this week.
“Wait a second, you might be saying to yourself, didn’t he order a Firewire cable last week?”
That’s what I thought, too. However, on Monday evening when I was sifting through my mail I noticed that the e-mail that I had assumed was the confirmation of the order I’d made last week actually stated that my order had been declined.
This was a bit puzzling, as there were no problems (that I was aware of) with any of my credit cards, let alone the check card that I had (attempted) to pay for the cable with.
So I went back to the site and tried to figure out what the problem was. It was suggested that perhaps I had entered some of the requested information incorrectly.
They actually asked for more information than most places do. In addition to the card number and expiration date they wanted the security number from the back, and the phone number of the bank that issued the card. As far as I could tell everything was fine, but I re-entered it all just to be on the safe side.
I’m not sure what the problem was before, but this time it went through, and so I should be receiving the cable today.
The external hard drive I ordered over the weekend, though, is another matter entirely. It actually shipped on Monday, but apparently UPS has just decided that they’re going to hang onto it for a while. The tracking site says that delivery has been “rescheduled,” and that it won’t arrive until the 10th. There’s no explanation as to why it’s been rescheduled.
It’s not enough of an issue to me that I’d bother calling anyone about it or anything, but it is sort of odd. I mean, if they have it, why not just deliver it? It’s not like they only send people out to deliver things every once in a while or something. Hell, the UPS truck comes to my apartment complex pretty much every day, sometimes more than once. So it’s not like it’s out of their way, or they have to make a special trip or something.
But whatever.
As sort of a rehearsal for taking the weekend off at the end of the month to fly home for Jourdan’s graduation, I’ve taken most of this weekend off as well.
Actually, it’s not for a practice. Tomorrow night in Leesburg a local writers group is sponsoring a presentation by two book editors and a literary agent about the book selection process.
As I’m trying to get my head back into the writing game, going to this seemed like a no-brainer as soon as I learned about it, not just because of the editors, but also because it represented the opportunity to learn something about this writers group.
The only problem was that it starts at 7:30 on a Friday night.
Sure, I’d be off of work in time to get to it, but that would mean a late night (especially for me), which would translate into a very unhappy early morning on Saturday.
The solution was obvious: take Saturday off.
So I did.
Then I thought about it some more and realized that, as I have enough time in my bank, I might as well take Sunday off as well.
I suppose I could have taken Friday off, too, but I opted instead to just leave three hours early (which still makes for a nine and a half hour day) to give myself some time to do stuff before the presentation starts.
So I have an extremely short work-week ahead of me, followed by a lot of extra time off.
Kathleen had been planning to go with me to the presentation, as she’s also looking to get into writing, but it looks like I’ll be flying solo. At first it seemed that she might have to be out of town for her new job (her new, FIVE DAY A WEEK job, where she was assured that she wouldn’t have to travel much, but then was told right before she started that she might have to go to Raleigh, NC, on her second day).
Now, however, it looks like she’ll be taking care of some family business instead.
Either way, the end result is that she’ll probably miss the presentation.
Now, however, we’ve learned that Sarah McLachlan will be here next week.
The concert is on a Thursday, which is a bit of a pain, but I have enough time in my bank that I could take all or at least part of Friday off (assuming that there are no staffing issues that day), but the question is whether or not Kathleen could.
I would like to see Sarah (seeing as how I love her and all), and given that I’ve gotten too old (or at the very least, too sober) to go to metal concerts, mellow, adult-contemporary pop music would seem to be the most suitable choice of live performance for me.
God, that’s depressing.
Don’t get me wrong; as mentioned, I love Sarah. But to think that I’ve gotten so old that I wouldn’t even consider going to a metal concert…*sigh*
Anyway, speaking of women I love, the other night I started working on a picture of my beloved Rachael Leigh Cook.
(Mmm....Rachael Leigh Cook....)
There are so many other pictures that I’ve intended to work on, some of which, like a picture of Fontaine I started a while ago, are nearly finished, but when I was idly sifting through pictures I noticed this particular picture of RLC. It looked like it would be fairly simple to crank it out in a hurry, so I decided to give it a shot.
So far it has been…until I got to the hair.
I’ve been deciding, more and more with every new picture, that I really hate hair.
I’m starting to think that, if I’m going to continue drawing, either I’ll have to find subjects other than women, or else they’re all going to start looking like Lt. Ilia in “Star Trek: The Motion Picture” (or “Moondragon” for any comic book geeks out there).
For all non-geeks, that is to say that I might have to start drawing women bald.
I’m just sick of drawing hair. I have a bunch of unfinished pictures sitting on my hard drive, essentially complete except for the hair, hair which I’m disinclined to try drawing.
The irritating thing is that, often, the hair is what makes me what to draw the picture in the first place, and frequently, in the final product, the hair is one of the best aspects of my picture.
But it’s such a pain in the ass to draw, and I’m never really happy with how it turns out.
Of course, in the case of this picture of RLC, if I were to draw her bald that would necessitate having to draw an ear from scratch, as well as one of her eyes, which would be more work overall, especially since I would be doing so largely without reference.
Just giving up seems like the best option.
Or, you know, I could work hard and try to draw the hair.
We’ll see.
Gets Me Every Time Dept.
Last night I was checking out the Web site of MC Chris.
MC Chris does a lot of voice work on the Adult Swim shows on Cartoon Network, such as providing the voice of “Hesh” on “SeaLab 2021.”
He’s also a rapper.
Kind of.
Basically, he’s a nerd rapper, rapping about things like Boba Fett, and making random nerd comments in his rhymes, along with the obligatory comments about his sexual prowess and his mad gangsta skillz. It’s all pretty funny, and is made more so by his voice, the sound of which just cracks me up every time I hear it.
Check out his site here. You can actually download a complete copy of his album “Life’s a Bitch and I’m her Pimp,” which includes some random skits, along with his raps about the wonders of Robitussin, the aforementioned “Fett’s Vette” (which is hilarious), and the especially entertaining “Fucking Up My Christmas.”
Of course, if you want to hear his best work, head over to adultswim.com and download the classic “I Want Candy” (he raps under the name MC Pee Pants on that one), which was featured on one of the greatest episodes of “Aqua Teen Hunger Force” ever.
Anyway, hopefully FedEx will arrive soon so that I can go for the walk I didn’t go on this morning.
I may be back later, ideally with a completed picture of RLC.
Liz Phair has a song by that name, which I’m actually listening to right now as my way of celebrating Mexico’s…umm….Mexico’s acknowledgement of it being the day after the 4th. Or something.
Anyway, I know it’s not much in the way of celebration, but what else am I going to do? Even if I still drank, drinking tequila, or Corona, or Dos Equis would be out of the question anyway (Yuck!).
In any case, Cinco de Mayo has significance to me beyond the fact that it’s a fancy way of saying that it’s the day before the 6th. After all, a year ago today I quit smoking.
Yay me! Or maybe under the circumstances I should say ¡Viva me!
I’m not really sure how I should go about celebrating my year of nicotine-free living.
I was thinking I might pick up a pack of Marlboros and smoke it as a way of celebrating.
Kidding! I have no intention of ever smoking again, and while I do still sometimes miss it, I know that I’m better off this way.
At least that’s what I keep telling myself.
Honestly, I can’t say that I really want to smoke, but you have to consider that I did it, pretty much day in-day out, from the age of 14 to the age of 32. It’s going to take a little longer than a year to get the habit totally out of my system, I think.
So far I haven’t accomplished much today. I got up, failed to go for a walk, called my mother, talked to her for a while, randomly surfed the Web, and ended up here, writing this.
Given that the tracking number indicates that it’s currently on the truck, at some point this afternoon FedEx will be delivering the Firewire cable I ordered this week.
“Wait a second, you might be saying to yourself, didn’t he order a Firewire cable last week?”
That’s what I thought, too. However, on Monday evening when I was sifting through my mail I noticed that the e-mail that I had assumed was the confirmation of the order I’d made last week actually stated that my order had been declined.
This was a bit puzzling, as there were no problems (that I was aware of) with any of my credit cards, let alone the check card that I had (attempted) to pay for the cable with.
So I went back to the site and tried to figure out what the problem was. It was suggested that perhaps I had entered some of the requested information incorrectly.
They actually asked for more information than most places do. In addition to the card number and expiration date they wanted the security number from the back, and the phone number of the bank that issued the card. As far as I could tell everything was fine, but I re-entered it all just to be on the safe side.
I’m not sure what the problem was before, but this time it went through, and so I should be receiving the cable today.
The external hard drive I ordered over the weekend, though, is another matter entirely. It actually shipped on Monday, but apparently UPS has just decided that they’re going to hang onto it for a while. The tracking site says that delivery has been “rescheduled,” and that it won’t arrive until the 10th. There’s no explanation as to why it’s been rescheduled.
It’s not enough of an issue to me that I’d bother calling anyone about it or anything, but it is sort of odd. I mean, if they have it, why not just deliver it? It’s not like they only send people out to deliver things every once in a while or something. Hell, the UPS truck comes to my apartment complex pretty much every day, sometimes more than once. So it’s not like it’s out of their way, or they have to make a special trip or something.
But whatever.
As sort of a rehearsal for taking the weekend off at the end of the month to fly home for Jourdan’s graduation, I’ve taken most of this weekend off as well.
Actually, it’s not for a practice. Tomorrow night in Leesburg a local writers group is sponsoring a presentation by two book editors and a literary agent about the book selection process.
As I’m trying to get my head back into the writing game, going to this seemed like a no-brainer as soon as I learned about it, not just because of the editors, but also because it represented the opportunity to learn something about this writers group.
The only problem was that it starts at 7:30 on a Friday night.
Sure, I’d be off of work in time to get to it, but that would mean a late night (especially for me), which would translate into a very unhappy early morning on Saturday.
The solution was obvious: take Saturday off.
So I did.
Then I thought about it some more and realized that, as I have enough time in my bank, I might as well take Sunday off as well.
I suppose I could have taken Friday off, too, but I opted instead to just leave three hours early (which still makes for a nine and a half hour day) to give myself some time to do stuff before the presentation starts.
So I have an extremely short work-week ahead of me, followed by a lot of extra time off.
Kathleen had been planning to go with me to the presentation, as she’s also looking to get into writing, but it looks like I’ll be flying solo. At first it seemed that she might have to be out of town for her new job (her new, FIVE DAY A WEEK job, where she was assured that she wouldn’t have to travel much, but then was told right before she started that she might have to go to Raleigh, NC, on her second day).
Now, however, it looks like she’ll be taking care of some family business instead.
Either way, the end result is that she’ll probably miss the presentation.
Now, however, we’ve learned that Sarah McLachlan will be here next week.
The concert is on a Thursday, which is a bit of a pain, but I have enough time in my bank that I could take all or at least part of Friday off (assuming that there are no staffing issues that day), but the question is whether or not Kathleen could.
I would like to see Sarah (seeing as how I love her and all), and given that I’ve gotten too old (or at the very least, too sober) to go to metal concerts, mellow, adult-contemporary pop music would seem to be the most suitable choice of live performance for me.
God, that’s depressing.
Don’t get me wrong; as mentioned, I love Sarah. But to think that I’ve gotten so old that I wouldn’t even consider going to a metal concert…*sigh*
Anyway, speaking of women I love, the other night I started working on a picture of my beloved Rachael Leigh Cook.
(Mmm....Rachael Leigh Cook....)
There are so many other pictures that I’ve intended to work on, some of which, like a picture of Fontaine I started a while ago, are nearly finished, but when I was idly sifting through pictures I noticed this particular picture of RLC. It looked like it would be fairly simple to crank it out in a hurry, so I decided to give it a shot.
So far it has been…until I got to the hair.
I’ve been deciding, more and more with every new picture, that I really hate hair.
I’m starting to think that, if I’m going to continue drawing, either I’ll have to find subjects other than women, or else they’re all going to start looking like Lt. Ilia in “Star Trek: The Motion Picture” (or “Moondragon” for any comic book geeks out there).
For all non-geeks, that is to say that I might have to start drawing women bald.
I’m just sick of drawing hair. I have a bunch of unfinished pictures sitting on my hard drive, essentially complete except for the hair, hair which I’m disinclined to try drawing.
The irritating thing is that, often, the hair is what makes me what to draw the picture in the first place, and frequently, in the final product, the hair is one of the best aspects of my picture.
But it’s such a pain in the ass to draw, and I’m never really happy with how it turns out.
Of course, in the case of this picture of RLC, if I were to draw her bald that would necessitate having to draw an ear from scratch, as well as one of her eyes, which would be more work overall, especially since I would be doing so largely without reference.
Just giving up seems like the best option.
Or, you know, I could work hard and try to draw the hair.
We’ll see.
Gets Me Every Time Dept.
Last night I was checking out the Web site of MC Chris.
MC Chris does a lot of voice work on the Adult Swim shows on Cartoon Network, such as providing the voice of “Hesh” on “SeaLab 2021.”
He’s also a rapper.
Kind of.
Basically, he’s a nerd rapper, rapping about things like Boba Fett, and making random nerd comments in his rhymes, along with the obligatory comments about his sexual prowess and his mad gangsta skillz. It’s all pretty funny, and is made more so by his voice, the sound of which just cracks me up every time I hear it.
Check out his site here. You can actually download a complete copy of his album “Life’s a Bitch and I’m her Pimp,” which includes some random skits, along with his raps about the wonders of Robitussin, the aforementioned “Fett’s Vette” (which is hilarious), and the especially entertaining “Fucking Up My Christmas.”
Of course, if you want to hear his best work, head over to adultswim.com and download the classic “I Want Candy” (he raps under the name MC Pee Pants on that one), which was featured on one of the greatest episodes of “Aqua Teen Hunger Force” ever.
Anyway, hopefully FedEx will arrive soon so that I can go for the walk I didn’t go on this morning.
I may be back later, ideally with a completed picture of RLC.
Also, Could You Stop Saying Those Annoying Cheers While You'e At It?
When I was a kid there was a period when the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders were widely-regarded as the sexiest women on the planet. It was something of a fad, and eventually the appeal faded a little. I'm sure the cheerleaders all remained sexy; the media just stopped caring.
When I was in college there was a woman in Texas who apparently tried to have her daughter's chief high school cheerleading rival killed.
Now, Texas cheerleaders are in the news again; this time they're being told to stop being sexy.
I wonder if it's okay to keep trying to kill your rivals, though? Presumably it would be (this is Texas, after all), just so long as you don't shake your ass while you're doing it.
All I can say is that it's a damn good thing people are tackling important issues like this. After all, look at what rump-shaking leads to:
Edwards likened the perceived salaciousness of cheerleading routines to risqué television programs and Internet pornography sites. He also suggested that inappropriate cheerleading routines contribute to a social atmosphere that encourages teen pregnancy, poor scholastic performance, criminality and the spread of sexually transmitted diseases.
Yep, it must be the cheerleaders that cause all these problems. It couldn't be inaccurate and incomplete sex education classes that are designed to placate the sensibilites of people who are offended by things like rump-shaking cheerleaders. After all, what could logic possibly have to do with any of this?
And as for an increase in crime...well, come on. It's cheerleaders we're talking about. Didn't anyone see that movie "Sugar & Spice?" Cheerleaders clearly represent the seedy, violent underbelly of society.
The sad part is that it wasn't even a Republican that introduced this bill...
When I was in college there was a woman in Texas who apparently tried to have her daughter's chief high school cheerleading rival killed.
Now, Texas cheerleaders are in the news again; this time they're being told to stop being sexy.
I wonder if it's okay to keep trying to kill your rivals, though? Presumably it would be (this is Texas, after all), just so long as you don't shake your ass while you're doing it.
All I can say is that it's a damn good thing people are tackling important issues like this. After all, look at what rump-shaking leads to:
Edwards likened the perceived salaciousness of cheerleading routines to risqué television programs and Internet pornography sites. He also suggested that inappropriate cheerleading routines contribute to a social atmosphere that encourages teen pregnancy, poor scholastic performance, criminality and the spread of sexually transmitted diseases.
Yep, it must be the cheerleaders that cause all these problems. It couldn't be inaccurate and incomplete sex education classes that are designed to placate the sensibilites of people who are offended by things like rump-shaking cheerleaders. After all, what could logic possibly have to do with any of this?
And as for an increase in crime...well, come on. It's cheerleaders we're talking about. Didn't anyone see that movie "Sugar & Spice?" Cheerleaders clearly represent the seedy, violent underbelly of society.
The sad part is that it wasn't even a Republican that introduced this bill...
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
Last 'Star Wars' Movie Said Not for Kids - Yahoo! News
Last 'Star Wars' Movie Said Not for Kids - Yahoo! News
I don't get why they're making a big deal about this. "It's the first of the the six 'Star Wars' movie to get a PG-13 rating!" Ummm...hello? The PG-13 rating didn't even exist until after the last of the original three movies were released, so really, this is the first of three (after Episodes 1 and 2) to receive a PG-13 rating.
I don't get why they're making a big deal about this. "It's the first of the the six 'Star Wars' movie to get a PG-13 rating!" Ummm...hello? The PG-13 rating didn't even exist until after the last of the original three movies were released, so really, this is the first of three (after Episodes 1 and 2) to receive a PG-13 rating.
We're The Flowers In The Dust Bin
So far today (and no surprises here) has been uneventful.
I got up, went for a walk, came home, had breakfast (a protein drink), watched that “Star Wars” fan film, ate lunch, worked on a picture for a little while, started doing some writing, got tired, took a nap, woke up, read a little, and now here I am writing this.
…
Despite the fact that very little ever happens in the course of my day I usually have a great deal of material for Threshold entries. Hell, as has been evidenced many times in the past, even when I don’t have anything to write about I can still manage to crank out a lengthy entry.
Of course, the actual problem I face most days is sifting through the bin of ideas and picking out the topic I actually want to write about. When there’s a lot of stuff in the bin, especially if it’s stuff that’s been sitting in there for a while, it can be very difficult to limit myself to a single topic, and often I’ll find myself writing entries with a divided focus, encompassing more than one of the ideas.
Or, as is more frequently the case, and as is the case today, I’ll find myself not wanting to write about any of the ideas sitting around in the bin.
For example, it had been my intention to write a follow-up entry to yesterday’s entry on my (perceived) pickiness, with some specific responses to the comments made by “Zalfiro.”
Of course, for a while now I’ve also been meaning to write an entry about Threshold itself, sort of explaining why it is the way that it is, which is to say a self-absorbed and self-indulgent examination of the minutiae of my trite and mundane existence, as opposed to what it could be. Something, for example, like a forum on my political and religious views, or at least some kind of social commentary.
In many ways, the blogging community has become more relevant, and useful, than many of the more traditional news services. Why haven’t I tried jumping onto that bandwagon? Or why not make Threshold a forum on my struggles to remain sober as a means of providing support and inspiration for other people who might need it?
And if I’m going to write frequent entries about my life as a depressingly single person, why not do so more cogently and with an eye toward speaking on behalf of the “very single,” to borrow a term used in an e-mail to me from the woman who writes a column called “The Single Side,” which appears in the local freebie paper (said e-mail itself being another entry idea gathering dust in the bin) who may need someone to create something of an online support system on their behalf?
In a nutshell, I could address the question of why there is no single overriding focus for Threshold other than just a general look at my largely uninteresting life.
Believe it or not, there are actually several reasons why this blog isn’t any of the things suggested above, or any of a multitude of other things that it could be, and it’s not because I don’t think those might all be good ideas, and more relevant ideas, and it’s also not because I’m totally self-absorbed.
Well, it’s not just because I’m totally self-absorbed.
And I could get into delineating those reasons, as has been an idea sitting in the bin for a while, but I don’t feel like it.
Thus the idea languishes in the bin and collects a little more dust.
On the topic of ideas, though, for as long as I can remember, Marvel Comics has referred to itself as the “House of Ideas.” That occurred to me as I used the phrase “bin of ideas” above, and I thought that maybe I should give Threshold a snazzy nickname like that.
Thus, from this day forward, Threshold will also be known as the “99 Cent Bargain Bin of Ideas.”
‘nuff said.
Feeling Impressed With Myself Dept.
I have to say that I think it’s a real talent that I have that allows me to essentially write a complete entry about how I don’t feel like writing an entry. Sometimes when laziness and creativity meet they can produce truly amazing results. Or, you know, this.
So while that may or may not be impressive, the previous entry about the “Star Wars” fan film has, I must admit, one of my favorite entry titles in a long time.
I think it’s hilarious. I know it spoils a joke if you have to explain it, but I’m pleased enough with it that I’m going to do it anyway. I mean, you do get it, right? “The Empire’s Got Back!” You know, like the Sir Mix-A-Lot song. Because the chick in it, who works for the Emperor, has got some junk in the tunk, so she’s, you know, got back. Like the song. And she’s part of the Empire. And, you know, the second “Star Wars” movie was called….oh forget it! Losers.
In any case, I may or may not be back again with an entry. It is Wednesday after all, and though the DVR can change the way I watch television, so far it hasn’t done so. When 8:00 rolls around I’ll still be parking my behind on the couch to watch “Smallville,” even though I could record it and watch it later (and be able to skip the commercials).
Hmm…maybe I will do that. Either way, though, that’s it for now.
I got up, went for a walk, came home, had breakfast (a protein drink), watched that “Star Wars” fan film, ate lunch, worked on a picture for a little while, started doing some writing, got tired, took a nap, woke up, read a little, and now here I am writing this.
…
Despite the fact that very little ever happens in the course of my day I usually have a great deal of material for Threshold entries. Hell, as has been evidenced many times in the past, even when I don’t have anything to write about I can still manage to crank out a lengthy entry.
Of course, the actual problem I face most days is sifting through the bin of ideas and picking out the topic I actually want to write about. When there’s a lot of stuff in the bin, especially if it’s stuff that’s been sitting in there for a while, it can be very difficult to limit myself to a single topic, and often I’ll find myself writing entries with a divided focus, encompassing more than one of the ideas.
Or, as is more frequently the case, and as is the case today, I’ll find myself not wanting to write about any of the ideas sitting around in the bin.
For example, it had been my intention to write a follow-up entry to yesterday’s entry on my (perceived) pickiness, with some specific responses to the comments made by “Zalfiro.”
Of course, for a while now I’ve also been meaning to write an entry about Threshold itself, sort of explaining why it is the way that it is, which is to say a self-absorbed and self-indulgent examination of the minutiae of my trite and mundane existence, as opposed to what it could be. Something, for example, like a forum on my political and religious views, or at least some kind of social commentary.
In many ways, the blogging community has become more relevant, and useful, than many of the more traditional news services. Why haven’t I tried jumping onto that bandwagon? Or why not make Threshold a forum on my struggles to remain sober as a means of providing support and inspiration for other people who might need it?
And if I’m going to write frequent entries about my life as a depressingly single person, why not do so more cogently and with an eye toward speaking on behalf of the “very single,” to borrow a term used in an e-mail to me from the woman who writes a column called “The Single Side,” which appears in the local freebie paper (said e-mail itself being another entry idea gathering dust in the bin) who may need someone to create something of an online support system on their behalf?
In a nutshell, I could address the question of why there is no single overriding focus for Threshold other than just a general look at my largely uninteresting life.
Believe it or not, there are actually several reasons why this blog isn’t any of the things suggested above, or any of a multitude of other things that it could be, and it’s not because I don’t think those might all be good ideas, and more relevant ideas, and it’s also not because I’m totally self-absorbed.
Well, it’s not just because I’m totally self-absorbed.
And I could get into delineating those reasons, as has been an idea sitting in the bin for a while, but I don’t feel like it.
Thus the idea languishes in the bin and collects a little more dust.
On the topic of ideas, though, for as long as I can remember, Marvel Comics has referred to itself as the “House of Ideas.” That occurred to me as I used the phrase “bin of ideas” above, and I thought that maybe I should give Threshold a snazzy nickname like that.
Thus, from this day forward, Threshold will also be known as the “99 Cent Bargain Bin of Ideas.”
‘nuff said.
Feeling Impressed With Myself Dept.
I have to say that I think it’s a real talent that I have that allows me to essentially write a complete entry about how I don’t feel like writing an entry. Sometimes when laziness and creativity meet they can produce truly amazing results. Or, you know, this.
So while that may or may not be impressive, the previous entry about the “Star Wars” fan film has, I must admit, one of my favorite entry titles in a long time.
I think it’s hilarious. I know it spoils a joke if you have to explain it, but I’m pleased enough with it that I’m going to do it anyway. I mean, you do get it, right? “The Empire’s Got Back!” You know, like the Sir Mix-A-Lot song. Because the chick in it, who works for the Emperor, has got some junk in the tunk, so she’s, you know, got back. Like the song. And she’s part of the Empire. And, you know, the second “Star Wars” movie was called….oh forget it! Losers.
In any case, I may or may not be back again with an entry. It is Wednesday after all, and though the DVR can change the way I watch television, so far it hasn’t done so. When 8:00 rolls around I’ll still be parking my behind on the couch to watch “Smallville,” even though I could record it and watch it later (and be able to skip the commercials).
Hmm…maybe I will do that. Either way, though, that’s it for now.
The Empire's Got Back!
Last night I mentioned a “Star Wars” fan film that had received some pretty high praise.
After having downloaded and watched it, I have to say that my mentioning it should in no way be construed as my endorsement of it.
The article I read about the movie (entitled “Revelations”) had extremely high praise for it, suggesting that it was not simply a very good fan film, but a very good film overall judged against any standard.
The latter was not the case, and I’m forced to conclude that either 1. The person who wrote the article was involved in making the film 2. The filmmaker had bribed the writer to praise it or 3. The writer of the article isn’t familiar with what a good movie is.
To be honest, for a fan film (and the fact that is very much a fan film, with all that entails, cannot be emphasized enough), “Revelations” was surprisingly good. Some of the effects were actually of professional-quality, and the basic concept of the story was interesting.
That being said, however, all of these positive aspects were marred by some embarrassingly bad dialogue delivered in even more embarrassingly bad performances. The fight scenes looked as though they may have been choreographed by “Star Wars Kid,” and in general seemed like the kind of cheesy light-saber battles you might see being acted out by geeks dressed in home-made costumes as they wait in line to buy tickets for “Revenge of the Sith.”
Speaking of which, most of the “actors” seemed like people who were just randomly grabbed off the street and thrown into costumes.
Most of the members of the largely female cast were, to be charitable, somewhat “big-boned.” That’s not necessarily a problem, but it does prove distracting when your eyes, which have glazed over in response to her wooden performance, drift downward and focus on the extremely wide hips of the movie’s villainess in an outfit that only serves to exaggerate that width.
Also, during the party scene when everyone stops in stunned silence as she enters the room, you can’t help but think that it’s not so much the result of awe and terror; it’s more like everyone is thinking “Damn, I bet she beeps like a garbage truck when she backs up.”
So yeah, the big-boned thing kind of detracts from the movie.
Still, all things considered, while this is not, as the article suggested, better than the real movies, it is worth checking out as long as you bear in mind that it is a fan film, though ultimately you may still end up wanting your 40+ minutes back.
After having downloaded and watched it, I have to say that my mentioning it should in no way be construed as my endorsement of it.
The article I read about the movie (entitled “Revelations”) had extremely high praise for it, suggesting that it was not simply a very good fan film, but a very good film overall judged against any standard.
The latter was not the case, and I’m forced to conclude that either 1. The person who wrote the article was involved in making the film 2. The filmmaker had bribed the writer to praise it or 3. The writer of the article isn’t familiar with what a good movie is.
To be honest, for a fan film (and the fact that is very much a fan film, with all that entails, cannot be emphasized enough), “Revelations” was surprisingly good. Some of the effects were actually of professional-quality, and the basic concept of the story was interesting.
That being said, however, all of these positive aspects were marred by some embarrassingly bad dialogue delivered in even more embarrassingly bad performances. The fight scenes looked as though they may have been choreographed by “Star Wars Kid,” and in general seemed like the kind of cheesy light-saber battles you might see being acted out by geeks dressed in home-made costumes as they wait in line to buy tickets for “Revenge of the Sith.”
Speaking of which, most of the “actors” seemed like people who were just randomly grabbed off the street and thrown into costumes.
Most of the members of the largely female cast were, to be charitable, somewhat “big-boned.” That’s not necessarily a problem, but it does prove distracting when your eyes, which have glazed over in response to her wooden performance, drift downward and focus on the extremely wide hips of the movie’s villainess in an outfit that only serves to exaggerate that width.
Also, during the party scene when everyone stops in stunned silence as she enters the room, you can’t help but think that it’s not so much the result of awe and terror; it’s more like everyone is thinking “Damn, I bet she beeps like a garbage truck when she backs up.”
So yeah, the big-boned thing kind of detracts from the movie.
Still, all things considered, while this is not, as the article suggested, better than the real movies, it is worth checking out as long as you bear in mind that it is a fan film, though ultimately you may still end up wanting your 40+ minutes back.
"Quite Simply, F***ing Awesome"
Director Kevin Smith has a glowing review of "Revenge of the Sith" on his Web site. The review contains major spoilers, but should give a lot of hope to "Star Wars" fans who have been disappointed by the last two films. After all, Smith is, arguably, the world's most famous hard-core "Star Wars" fan, so if he likes it...
On a related note, a fan-made "Star Wars" movie has received some good press. You can check it out here.
On a related note, a fan-made "Star Wars" movie has received some good press. You can check it out here.
Picky, Picky, Picky...
When I was talking to my mother yesterday, as it often does, the topic of my love life…okay, the topic of the complete and utter lack of anything that could even euphemistically be referred to as my love life came up.
She mentioned, though there was no need, that my dad thinks that I’m just “too picky.”
This is nothing new, and my dad is hardly the only person to put forth that theory.
It’s a theory that I don’t happen to believe, as it’s a theory that’s lacking empirical support.
I don’t think I’m especially picky, though considering that I married my first girlfriend, and considering how that turned out, I think it’s only wise for me to be at least a little picky.
Do I have a sort of intellectual standard, a concept of “Miss Right” that I judge women against? Of course; everyone has an ideal. Do I set the standard too high? I don’t think so.
But, for the sake of argument, let’s say that I do. Let’s say I have incredibly unrealistic standards set so impossibly high that no woman on the face of the earth could possibly meet them.
Okay, so what? Well, presumably I would have to set my standards lower in order to meet a woman.
Okay, consider that done. I now have no standards whatsoever. I’ll take absolutely anything I can get. Over fifty? I’ll take you. 200+ pounds? Give me some of that.
So. I’ve now set my sights on a 300 pound septuagenarian with no teeth, a glass eye, a hare lip, one leg, and a humpback. Ooh, baby!
And of course we’ll have a wonderful relationship based entirely on settling for whatever we can get our hands on.
But what’s this? She’s not interested. Hmm, it seems that she’s too picky.
Damn! Why didn’t anyone consider that I’m not the only part of the equation? I thought that if I stopped being picky the first woman I saw, through my no longer jaundiced eye, would automatically be interested in me.
Honestly, even if I am picky, the odds are that I’m nowhere near as picky as most women are.
Beyond that, if you’re not at least a little bit particular you then fall into the desperate category, and if there’s one thing I’ve managed to learn it’s that women have noses more keen than those of bloodhounds when it comes to smelling desperation.
Besides, pickiness really isn’t the problem. The actual problem is that I just don’t encounter available women.
Hmm, okay, maybe that makes me too picky; maybe I shouldn’t let things like wedding rings, or baby carriages, or the fact that a woman appears to be dating the entire Redskins’ offensive line get in my way. This whole “being available” thing is jus too impossible a standard to hold women to, right?
Just because a woman walks into a restaurant with her husband it doesn’t mean that she has to leave with him, right? After all, the handful of women I actually do see seem to be housewives, so at least some of them must be of the desperate variety.
In the end, though, the fact is that my pickiness or lack thereof isn’t the issue. It’s all about opportunity, of which there’s virtually none in my life (and that’s not likely to change), and compatibility.
After this much time spent alone becoming increasingly isolated and weird, I would say that my potential for being compatible with anyone is at an all-time low.
But there I go being picky again. I mean, expecting compatibility? Picky, picky, picky...
She mentioned, though there was no need, that my dad thinks that I’m just “too picky.”
This is nothing new, and my dad is hardly the only person to put forth that theory.
It’s a theory that I don’t happen to believe, as it’s a theory that’s lacking empirical support.
I don’t think I’m especially picky, though considering that I married my first girlfriend, and considering how that turned out, I think it’s only wise for me to be at least a little picky.
Do I have a sort of intellectual standard, a concept of “Miss Right” that I judge women against? Of course; everyone has an ideal. Do I set the standard too high? I don’t think so.
But, for the sake of argument, let’s say that I do. Let’s say I have incredibly unrealistic standards set so impossibly high that no woman on the face of the earth could possibly meet them.
Okay, so what? Well, presumably I would have to set my standards lower in order to meet a woman.
Okay, consider that done. I now have no standards whatsoever. I’ll take absolutely anything I can get. Over fifty? I’ll take you. 200+ pounds? Give me some of that.
So. I’ve now set my sights on a 300 pound septuagenarian with no teeth, a glass eye, a hare lip, one leg, and a humpback. Ooh, baby!
And of course we’ll have a wonderful relationship based entirely on settling for whatever we can get our hands on.
But what’s this? She’s not interested. Hmm, it seems that she’s too picky.
Damn! Why didn’t anyone consider that I’m not the only part of the equation? I thought that if I stopped being picky the first woman I saw, through my no longer jaundiced eye, would automatically be interested in me.
Honestly, even if I am picky, the odds are that I’m nowhere near as picky as most women are.
Beyond that, if you’re not at least a little bit particular you then fall into the desperate category, and if there’s one thing I’ve managed to learn it’s that women have noses more keen than those of bloodhounds when it comes to smelling desperation.
Besides, pickiness really isn’t the problem. The actual problem is that I just don’t encounter available women.
Hmm, okay, maybe that makes me too picky; maybe I shouldn’t let things like wedding rings, or baby carriages, or the fact that a woman appears to be dating the entire Redskins’ offensive line get in my way. This whole “being available” thing is jus too impossible a standard to hold women to, right?
Just because a woman walks into a restaurant with her husband it doesn’t mean that she has to leave with him, right? After all, the handful of women I actually do see seem to be housewives, so at least some of them must be of the desperate variety.
In the end, though, the fact is that my pickiness or lack thereof isn’t the issue. It’s all about opportunity, of which there’s virtually none in my life (and that’s not likely to change), and compatibility.
After this much time spent alone becoming increasingly isolated and weird, I would say that my potential for being compatible with anyone is at an all-time low.
But there I go being picky again. I mean, expecting compatibility? Picky, picky, picky...
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
Jennifer Warnes = Zombies
Last week I watched the remake of “Dawn of the Dead.”
For anyone unfamiliar with it, much of the movie takes place in a mall in which surviving humans have taken refuge from the hungry crowds of zombies out to feast on their living flesh.
During several of the mall scenes we were treated to the sound of muzak in the elevators.
One of the songs featured was “The Right Time of the Night.”
Friday morning, as I was getting ready to head off for my pre-work workout, I was walking to the kitchen to grab my lunch bag when, from out of nowhere, the non-muzak version of the song, as performed by Jennifer Warnes, popped into my head.
Though it wasn’t the same as the version featured in the movie, it did still bring the movie to mind…along with various images of hungry zombies.
As I was shutting out the lights, grabbing my gym and lunch bags, and heading for the door, I found my heart rate increasing slightly as I imagined a zombie waiting for me on the other side of the door.
There wasn’t one, obviously, but even so, at around 4:30 in the morning the dark parking lot can be eerily quiet, and once my mind has latched onto a scary thought I find myself rushing to my car and fumbling with my keys as if I were being chased.
Okay, so I’m a grown man, and intellectually I know that the odds don’t favor me attacked by zombies as I make my way to the car in the morning, but when I’ve got Jennifer Warnes in my head insisting that it’s the right time of the night, I’m not ashamed to admit that I find myself a little freaked out.
That sort of thing happens every so often, particularly if I’ve had weird dreams. For example, a while ago I had a dream about werewolves right before I woke up, so in the light of the full moon, I made something of a mad dash for my car, started it up, and hauled ass the hell out of the parking lot.
I don’t care how old or fearless you are; every so often you’ll have an experience like that. Sometimes it’s as simple as waking up in the middle of the night and knowing that if you open your eyes Jason will be standing over you.
In any case, a permanent association has been formed in my mind between that song and the rotting, undead faces of slavering zombies. And because my mind is perverse and not at all under my control, whenever it gets the chance it will make that song, and the associated images, pop into my head when I have to make my way outside during what I’ve come to consider the wrong time of the night.
I discovered this on Saturday morning when, right on schedule, I headed for the door and found myself convinced that a zombie (and, for anyone who’s seen the movie, specifically the little girl zombie from the beginning of the movie) would be waiting for me on the other side, thanks to Jennifer Warnes.
I managed to avoid a repeat of this on Sunday only by clinging desperately to the song “Vacation” by the Go-Gos, which had popped into my head while I was brushing my teeth, though that in itself was its own brand of terror…
Today, like most days, was largely uneventful. I got up, went for a walk, came home, showered, went grocery shopping, came home, made lunch, read a little, wrote a little, went for another walk, came home and did some more writing, made dinner, ate, and that brings us up to speed.
I’ll be back with more later, but I wanted to post something in the meantime.
For anyone unfamiliar with it, much of the movie takes place in a mall in which surviving humans have taken refuge from the hungry crowds of zombies out to feast on their living flesh.
During several of the mall scenes we were treated to the sound of muzak in the elevators.
One of the songs featured was “The Right Time of the Night.”
Friday morning, as I was getting ready to head off for my pre-work workout, I was walking to the kitchen to grab my lunch bag when, from out of nowhere, the non-muzak version of the song, as performed by Jennifer Warnes, popped into my head.
Though it wasn’t the same as the version featured in the movie, it did still bring the movie to mind…along with various images of hungry zombies.
As I was shutting out the lights, grabbing my gym and lunch bags, and heading for the door, I found my heart rate increasing slightly as I imagined a zombie waiting for me on the other side of the door.
There wasn’t one, obviously, but even so, at around 4:30 in the morning the dark parking lot can be eerily quiet, and once my mind has latched onto a scary thought I find myself rushing to my car and fumbling with my keys as if I were being chased.
Okay, so I’m a grown man, and intellectually I know that the odds don’t favor me attacked by zombies as I make my way to the car in the morning, but when I’ve got Jennifer Warnes in my head insisting that it’s the right time of the night, I’m not ashamed to admit that I find myself a little freaked out.
That sort of thing happens every so often, particularly if I’ve had weird dreams. For example, a while ago I had a dream about werewolves right before I woke up, so in the light of the full moon, I made something of a mad dash for my car, started it up, and hauled ass the hell out of the parking lot.
I don’t care how old or fearless you are; every so often you’ll have an experience like that. Sometimes it’s as simple as waking up in the middle of the night and knowing that if you open your eyes Jason will be standing over you.
In any case, a permanent association has been formed in my mind between that song and the rotting, undead faces of slavering zombies. And because my mind is perverse and not at all under my control, whenever it gets the chance it will make that song, and the associated images, pop into my head when I have to make my way outside during what I’ve come to consider the wrong time of the night.
I discovered this on Saturday morning when, right on schedule, I headed for the door and found myself convinced that a zombie (and, for anyone who’s seen the movie, specifically the little girl zombie from the beginning of the movie) would be waiting for me on the other side, thanks to Jennifer Warnes.
I managed to avoid a repeat of this on Sunday only by clinging desperately to the song “Vacation” by the Go-Gos, which had popped into my head while I was brushing my teeth, though that in itself was its own brand of terror…
Today, like most days, was largely uneventful. I got up, went for a walk, came home, showered, went grocery shopping, came home, made lunch, read a little, wrote a little, went for another walk, came home and did some more writing, made dinner, ate, and that brings us up to speed.
I’ll be back with more later, but I wanted to post something in the meantime.
Monday, May 02, 2005
Wasted Day
When I worked in the call center in Tucson I used to hate wasting my days off.
That isn’t to say that I didn’t waste my days off, or even that I really had anything to do during those days off; I just hated wasting them.
That mostly manifested itself in trying to stay awake as much as possible, and that was largely because I tried to forestall having to return to work for as long as possible.
Of course, the advantage of having four days off is that wasting one of those days isn’t that big a deal (it also helps to not absolutely hate my job the way I did in Tucson).
So that’s what I did with today; I wasted it.
For the most part, anyway.
It wasn’t that I didn’t do anything at all, I just didn’t set out with the intention of accomplishing anything significant.
I got up, went for a walk, talked to my mom, took a nap, read a little, made dinner. That was pretty much it.
Over the weekend I bought a 250 GB external hard drive. At $160 it was a bargain that I couldn’t pass up.
That’s pretty much been the extent of the excitement over the past few days.
Earlier today when I was starting to make dinner my phone rang. Having already talked to my mother, the next likely suspect was Kathleen.
I was mistaken in that regard; I didn’t recognize the number, and the woman on the other end said something that I’m assuming was “Sorry, wrong number,” only it was in a language that I was utterly unfamiliar with.
Whatever she was saying, and whatever language she was saying it in, the woman sounded kind of angry, and she hung up before I could finish saying, “Excuse me?”
Later the phone rang again, and this time it actually was Kathleen, calling to tell me about her first day at her new job.
Among the highlights was the fact that she arrived to find that her office was basically empty: no computer, no phone, no chair.
Overall, it was a less than auspicious beginning, but sadly not unexpected given the way our company works.
Last night’s premiere of the new season of “Family Guy” left me breathless. I haven’t laughed that hard in a very long time.
In any case, I have some things sitting on the DVR’s hard drive that I should I watch, so I guess that’s it for now. Ideally I’ll have more to say tomorrow.
That isn’t to say that I didn’t waste my days off, or even that I really had anything to do during those days off; I just hated wasting them.
That mostly manifested itself in trying to stay awake as much as possible, and that was largely because I tried to forestall having to return to work for as long as possible.
Of course, the advantage of having four days off is that wasting one of those days isn’t that big a deal (it also helps to not absolutely hate my job the way I did in Tucson).
So that’s what I did with today; I wasted it.
For the most part, anyway.
It wasn’t that I didn’t do anything at all, I just didn’t set out with the intention of accomplishing anything significant.
I got up, went for a walk, talked to my mom, took a nap, read a little, made dinner. That was pretty much it.
Over the weekend I bought a 250 GB external hard drive. At $160 it was a bargain that I couldn’t pass up.
That’s pretty much been the extent of the excitement over the past few days.
Earlier today when I was starting to make dinner my phone rang. Having already talked to my mother, the next likely suspect was Kathleen.
I was mistaken in that regard; I didn’t recognize the number, and the woman on the other end said something that I’m assuming was “Sorry, wrong number,” only it was in a language that I was utterly unfamiliar with.
Whatever she was saying, and whatever language she was saying it in, the woman sounded kind of angry, and she hung up before I could finish saying, “Excuse me?”
Later the phone rang again, and this time it actually was Kathleen, calling to tell me about her first day at her new job.
Among the highlights was the fact that she arrived to find that her office was basically empty: no computer, no phone, no chair.
Overall, it was a less than auspicious beginning, but sadly not unexpected given the way our company works.
Last night’s premiere of the new season of “Family Guy” left me breathless. I haven’t laughed that hard in a very long time.
In any case, I have some things sitting on the DVR’s hard drive that I should I watch, so I guess that’s it for now. Ideally I’ll have more to say tomorrow.
Sunday, May 01, 2005
Buck Up, Little Shaver: Some Advice To The Fiance Of The Runaway Bride
By now everyone is probably familiar with the case of the real-life “Runaway Bride,” Jennifer Wilbanks.
If not, here’s a brief recap: days before her wedding was scheduled Wilbanks disappeared while jogging. Friends and family immediately feared the worst, and the media, sensing a juicy new story, especially since the missing woman was attractive (and white), hoped that the groom-to-be was the next Scott Peterson. That it all was happening right before the wedding made it that much juicier.
On the day of the wedding Wilbanks was found in Albuquerque, New Mexico, claiming to have been abducted by a man and a woman in a blue van.
After a brief round of questioning, Wilbanks admitted that she had taken off on her own, as she had cold feet about the wedding.
Thanks to the timing of her disappearance, that had been my suspicion all along, though most people seemed to have made the Peterson connection immediately.
In any case, the couple is now reunited, and John Mason, the fiancé, has stated that the wedding, which was originally to take place yesterday, has simply been postponed, not cancelled.
If that’s true, and Mason isn’t simply trying to avoid looking like a callous jerk right now and is planning to dump her after the media coverage dies down, I have some advice for him.
Personally, regardless of how it would look, I would just dump the crazy bitch. I honestly don’t think that anyone could fault you. After all, she humiliated you in front of the entire world. First people thought that you were some evil Scott Peterson wannabe, and then, after they found out that you didn’t kill her and that she had simply ditched you, you ended up looking like some pathetic, jilted ass clown whose fiancée couldn’t get away from fast enough.
But despite that, as they say, there’s no such thing as bad publicity, so now that your name and your face are out there the odds are you could get some serious play. I’m sure there’s all kinds of crazy chicks who would happily throw themselves at you just because they saw you on TV. And if nothing else, you could probably milk the whole humiliation thing to get some pity sex.
But hey, if it’s true love and you still want to marry her in spite of it all, there are some things you need to keep in mind.
After all, unless you play your cards right, she will own you. I mean, she ditched you and humiliated you in front of the whole world, and yet you still married her. Oh yeah; she’ll be convinced that you’re her bitch.
You can’t let that happen. You have to turn things to your advantage.
Think about the leverage you have:
“Honey, will you take out the trash?”
“Oh, sure. Hey, remember that time when you emasculated me in front of the whole world? That was fun.”
“…never mind, I’ll get it.”
“I can’t believe you bought a big-screen TV without consulting me!”
“Gee, I’m sorry. I can’t believe that you convinced the world that I was some evil, fiancée-murdering bastard without consulting me.”
“…the TV will look really nice over there.”
And if you decide to stay out all night with the boys sometime, what’s she going to say about it?
Also, consider the kind of leverage you’ll have in the bedroom:
“I have a headache.”
“Really? Does it hurt as much as when you ripped my heart out of my chest live on CNN?”
And, you know, if there were certain other activities you wanted to talk her into…well, you know what I’m saying...
Anyway, the point is that now that life has handed you lemons you need to make lemonade, there is a silver lining to this dark cloud, and you just have to realize that you do have some options available to you.
Good luck.
If not, here’s a brief recap: days before her wedding was scheduled Wilbanks disappeared while jogging. Friends and family immediately feared the worst, and the media, sensing a juicy new story, especially since the missing woman was attractive (and white), hoped that the groom-to-be was the next Scott Peterson. That it all was happening right before the wedding made it that much juicier.
On the day of the wedding Wilbanks was found in Albuquerque, New Mexico, claiming to have been abducted by a man and a woman in a blue van.
After a brief round of questioning, Wilbanks admitted that she had taken off on her own, as she had cold feet about the wedding.
Thanks to the timing of her disappearance, that had been my suspicion all along, though most people seemed to have made the Peterson connection immediately.
In any case, the couple is now reunited, and John Mason, the fiancé, has stated that the wedding, which was originally to take place yesterday, has simply been postponed, not cancelled.
If that’s true, and Mason isn’t simply trying to avoid looking like a callous jerk right now and is planning to dump her after the media coverage dies down, I have some advice for him.
Personally, regardless of how it would look, I would just dump the crazy bitch. I honestly don’t think that anyone could fault you. After all, she humiliated you in front of the entire world. First people thought that you were some evil Scott Peterson wannabe, and then, after they found out that you didn’t kill her and that she had simply ditched you, you ended up looking like some pathetic, jilted ass clown whose fiancée couldn’t get away from fast enough.
But despite that, as they say, there’s no such thing as bad publicity, so now that your name and your face are out there the odds are you could get some serious play. I’m sure there’s all kinds of crazy chicks who would happily throw themselves at you just because they saw you on TV. And if nothing else, you could probably milk the whole humiliation thing to get some pity sex.
But hey, if it’s true love and you still want to marry her in spite of it all, there are some things you need to keep in mind.
After all, unless you play your cards right, she will own you. I mean, she ditched you and humiliated you in front of the whole world, and yet you still married her. Oh yeah; she’ll be convinced that you’re her bitch.
You can’t let that happen. You have to turn things to your advantage.
Think about the leverage you have:
“Honey, will you take out the trash?”
“Oh, sure. Hey, remember that time when you emasculated me in front of the whole world? That was fun.”
“…never mind, I’ll get it.”
“I can’t believe you bought a big-screen TV without consulting me!”
“Gee, I’m sorry. I can’t believe that you convinced the world that I was some evil, fiancée-murdering bastard without consulting me.”
“…the TV will look really nice over there.”
And if you decide to stay out all night with the boys sometime, what’s she going to say about it?
Also, consider the kind of leverage you’ll have in the bedroom:
“I have a headache.”
“Really? Does it hurt as much as when you ripped my heart out of my chest live on CNN?”
And, you know, if there were certain other activities you wanted to talk her into…well, you know what I’m saying...
Anyway, the point is that now that life has handed you lemons you need to make lemonade, there is a silver lining to this dark cloud, and you just have to realize that you do have some options available to you.
Good luck.
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