I don't have a lot of time (or patience) to write much of an entry right now.
Suffice to say that my new DVD burner arrived today and that installing it has come very close to driving me over the edge.
Having just gotten my computer to actually boot up after multiple attempts, it's in the midst of having a disk check performed.
I saw "Emily Rose" today with Scott, Brian, and Chris. It was pretty spooky, and I'm sure it'll be very much on my mind when I wake up in the middle of the night and when I'm walking out to my car alone at 4:30 in the morning.
In any case, have a good weekend, and say a prayer for me as I try to exorcise whatever demons have possessed my computer...
Thursday, September 15, 2005
Killer Or Coder?
Click here to see if you can tell a Serial Killer from a Computer Programmer (There's a difference?).
My score? 6/10.
My score? 6/10.
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
More Choices Than Most People Think, That Much Closer To Having Teeth, And Breaking Up Is Hard To Do
Over the years I’ve noticed that there is a seemingly inborn impulse among human beings to break things up into dichotomies.
Coke and Pepsi, Liberals and Conservatives, Gays and Straights, Us and Them: the typical mindset breaks the world down into opposing duets, ignoring all of the other possibilities.
While recognizing that there are other parties such as Libertarian or the Green Party, most Americans think in terms of a two-party system and believe that it’s always been that way, despite the early history of our country which had all sorts of different political parties.
This leads people to form spurious opinions. For example, in the most recent Presidential election, if someone didn’t support Bush it was automatically assumed that he or she supported Kerry.
The existence of other parties aside, there’s another option that wasn’t considered: not supporting anyone.
The dogmatic belief in the primacy of the dichotomy extends beyond political parties, though, and permeates all aspects of life.
For example, how often do you hear someone say, “You either love me or you hate me; there’s no in-between.”
Quite frankly, if those are the only options you give me, I’m pretty much guaranteed to head on over onto the hate side, but the fact of the matter is that establishing polar opposites as the only available choices in such a fashion is foolish.
There is, after all, always room for indifference.
I’m not really sure what my point is here (Is that another dichotomy? Pointed or Pointless?), but it’s something I’ve been meaning to address for a while, sitting gathering dust in the 99 Cent Bargain Bin of Ideas.
If there is a point, maybe it’s that our choices aren’t nearly so limited as we like to believe (fewer choices means having to do less thinking, after all), or maybe it’s just this: never underestimate the power of not caring.
Apathy is virtually always a viable third option.
Last night, feeling tired from the lack of sleep I’d gotten the night before, I went to bed relatively early, which ensured that, with some help from the garbage truck slamming a dumpster around, I would be up early this morning, which I was.
Though it was only ten to seven when the dumpster stopped rattling, I was sufficiently awake that it seemed pointless to go back to sleep, though I almost changed my mind about that when I remembered that I’ve established Wednesday mornings as the time during the week in which I squeeze in another workout.
Still, I was up, so I headed to the fitness center.
The last couple of weeks, though I’ve gone in at different times, I’ve managed to be there at the same time as the cleaning lady, who has demonstrated an unwillingness to work around me, so I assumed, correctly, that she wouldn’t in there this time, given how early it was.
However, the absence of the cleaning lady didn’t mean that I had the place to myself, as there was an Indian couple making use of the treadmill and lifecycle.
The man, who was on the treadmill, was wearing standard workout clothes. His wife, however, was peddling away in a sari, which just seemed odd.
After my workout I came home for my protein shake breakfast, and when nine o’clock rolled around I headed out for a walk.
While I was walking my cell phone rang. It was my dentist’s office asking if I could come in at two in the afternoon.
I tentatively agreed.
Under normal circumstances it wouldn’t have been an issue, as my calendar is usually wide open (like Grand Canyon wide), but yesterday Brian had sent an e-mail out indicating that he’d be up to seeing “Emily Rose” today, so I wasn’t sure if I’d be free.
However, it turned out to not be an issue, though this time it basically ended up being Scott who punked out on it. At first he said he’d be able to catch a show after two, which worked for me, but then later on he remembered that he wouldn’t actually be free until after four.
Ultimately it was decided that it just wasn’t going to happen today.
Of course, I’m not really as inclined to launch into Scott-bashing over this in the same way I pointlessly (and arbitrarily) bashed Brian the other day, given that Scott is my boss.
The decision we actually reached was to go see it tomorrow, as we’ll all be getting together for a meeting in the morning anyway, and there’s a multiplex not too far away from where we’ll be meeting.
In any case, the end result was that I was free to head in for my dentist appointment at two.
The appointment didn’t last long, as the reason he wanted me to come in was that my partials had come in – partially.
Basically, the wire frames sans the actual teeth had arrived, and the whole point of going in today was to make any necessary adjustments before the teeth are put on.
So the next step will be for him to send the frames back out to get the teeth put on, then when they come back it’ll be time for my final fitting. After that, I’ll only need one more appointment, apparently, and I’ll finally be done seeing him except for check-ups.
After more than two years, that will be a nice change of pace.
It will also free me up to put my flex money towards getting my eyes fixed.
Once that’s taken care of, I’ll be free to work on my mental problems…nah, some things just can’t be fixed.
On my way home from the dentist I stopped at Safeway to pick up some things I needed for dinner and…you know, it’s always awkward when you bump into your ex. You never really know what to say, or how to act. Should you just try to play it off like it’s funny? Pretend not to even notice?
It’s a difficult circumstance, as there are just so many conflicting emotions that bubble up to the surface.
It makes it even worse when you see your ex with someone else.
In my case today, I didn’t say a word. I just shook my head and sighed.
No, I didn’t see my ex-wife in the Safeway. That would be extremely unlikely, as she lives over a thousand miles away.
I’m talking about an “ex” that I had much stronger feelings for: Killian’s Irish Red.
For years, Killian’s was my beer of choice. It was the first beer I ever loved.
And did I ever love it.
I’m sure it sounds silly to talk about a beer in these terms, but that would be why you’re not the one who has a drinking problem, wouldn’t it?
In all honesty, it wasn’t really that big of a deal. I mean, I see all kinds of beer all the time, particularly at Safeway, which has the dairy case in the same aisle as the beer, but it just took me by surprise when I was standing in line and noticed that unmistakable horse head logo on the six-pack that was sitting on the belt separated from my milk and tomato sauce only by one of those little grocery dividers.
The “ex” metaphor occurred to me when I was walking out the door, and I thought that it was worth sharing here.
For some reason I thought that my beloved Rachael Leigh Cook was in the cast of a new show that’s debuting tonight, so it had been my intention to check it out. Turns out I was wrong about that, and I honestly have no idea why I ever thought she was part of the cast.
The show, “Head Cases,” doesn’t look interesting enough for me to watch without RLC, which is just as well, as this season already has me adding too many new shows to my viewing schedule.
In any case, that’s going to do it for this entry.
Coke and Pepsi, Liberals and Conservatives, Gays and Straights, Us and Them: the typical mindset breaks the world down into opposing duets, ignoring all of the other possibilities.
While recognizing that there are other parties such as Libertarian or the Green Party, most Americans think in terms of a two-party system and believe that it’s always been that way, despite the early history of our country which had all sorts of different political parties.
This leads people to form spurious opinions. For example, in the most recent Presidential election, if someone didn’t support Bush it was automatically assumed that he or she supported Kerry.
The existence of other parties aside, there’s another option that wasn’t considered: not supporting anyone.
The dogmatic belief in the primacy of the dichotomy extends beyond political parties, though, and permeates all aspects of life.
For example, how often do you hear someone say, “You either love me or you hate me; there’s no in-between.”
Quite frankly, if those are the only options you give me, I’m pretty much guaranteed to head on over onto the hate side, but the fact of the matter is that establishing polar opposites as the only available choices in such a fashion is foolish.
There is, after all, always room for indifference.
I’m not really sure what my point is here (Is that another dichotomy? Pointed or Pointless?), but it’s something I’ve been meaning to address for a while, sitting gathering dust in the 99 Cent Bargain Bin of Ideas.
If there is a point, maybe it’s that our choices aren’t nearly so limited as we like to believe (fewer choices means having to do less thinking, after all), or maybe it’s just this: never underestimate the power of not caring.
Apathy is virtually always a viable third option.
Last night, feeling tired from the lack of sleep I’d gotten the night before, I went to bed relatively early, which ensured that, with some help from the garbage truck slamming a dumpster around, I would be up early this morning, which I was.
Though it was only ten to seven when the dumpster stopped rattling, I was sufficiently awake that it seemed pointless to go back to sleep, though I almost changed my mind about that when I remembered that I’ve established Wednesday mornings as the time during the week in which I squeeze in another workout.
Still, I was up, so I headed to the fitness center.
The last couple of weeks, though I’ve gone in at different times, I’ve managed to be there at the same time as the cleaning lady, who has demonstrated an unwillingness to work around me, so I assumed, correctly, that she wouldn’t in there this time, given how early it was.
However, the absence of the cleaning lady didn’t mean that I had the place to myself, as there was an Indian couple making use of the treadmill and lifecycle.
The man, who was on the treadmill, was wearing standard workout clothes. His wife, however, was peddling away in a sari, which just seemed odd.
After my workout I came home for my protein shake breakfast, and when nine o’clock rolled around I headed out for a walk.
While I was walking my cell phone rang. It was my dentist’s office asking if I could come in at two in the afternoon.
I tentatively agreed.
Under normal circumstances it wouldn’t have been an issue, as my calendar is usually wide open (like Grand Canyon wide), but yesterday Brian had sent an e-mail out indicating that he’d be up to seeing “Emily Rose” today, so I wasn’t sure if I’d be free.
However, it turned out to not be an issue, though this time it basically ended up being Scott who punked out on it. At first he said he’d be able to catch a show after two, which worked for me, but then later on he remembered that he wouldn’t actually be free until after four.
Ultimately it was decided that it just wasn’t going to happen today.
Of course, I’m not really as inclined to launch into Scott-bashing over this in the same way I pointlessly (and arbitrarily) bashed Brian the other day, given that Scott is my boss.
The decision we actually reached was to go see it tomorrow, as we’ll all be getting together for a meeting in the morning anyway, and there’s a multiplex not too far away from where we’ll be meeting.
In any case, the end result was that I was free to head in for my dentist appointment at two.
The appointment didn’t last long, as the reason he wanted me to come in was that my partials had come in – partially.
Basically, the wire frames sans the actual teeth had arrived, and the whole point of going in today was to make any necessary adjustments before the teeth are put on.
So the next step will be for him to send the frames back out to get the teeth put on, then when they come back it’ll be time for my final fitting. After that, I’ll only need one more appointment, apparently, and I’ll finally be done seeing him except for check-ups.
After more than two years, that will be a nice change of pace.
It will also free me up to put my flex money towards getting my eyes fixed.
Once that’s taken care of, I’ll be free to work on my mental problems…nah, some things just can’t be fixed.
On my way home from the dentist I stopped at Safeway to pick up some things I needed for dinner and…you know, it’s always awkward when you bump into your ex. You never really know what to say, or how to act. Should you just try to play it off like it’s funny? Pretend not to even notice?
It’s a difficult circumstance, as there are just so many conflicting emotions that bubble up to the surface.
It makes it even worse when you see your ex with someone else.
In my case today, I didn’t say a word. I just shook my head and sighed.
No, I didn’t see my ex-wife in the Safeway. That would be extremely unlikely, as she lives over a thousand miles away.
I’m talking about an “ex” that I had much stronger feelings for: Killian’s Irish Red.
For years, Killian’s was my beer of choice. It was the first beer I ever loved.
And did I ever love it.
I’m sure it sounds silly to talk about a beer in these terms, but that would be why you’re not the one who has a drinking problem, wouldn’t it?
In all honesty, it wasn’t really that big of a deal. I mean, I see all kinds of beer all the time, particularly at Safeway, which has the dairy case in the same aisle as the beer, but it just took me by surprise when I was standing in line and noticed that unmistakable horse head logo on the six-pack that was sitting on the belt separated from my milk and tomato sauce only by one of those little grocery dividers.
The “ex” metaphor occurred to me when I was walking out the door, and I thought that it was worth sharing here.
For some reason I thought that my beloved Rachael Leigh Cook was in the cast of a new show that’s debuting tonight, so it had been my intention to check it out. Turns out I was wrong about that, and I honestly have no idea why I ever thought she was part of the cast.
The show, “Head Cases,” doesn’t look interesting enough for me to watch without RLC, which is just as well, as this season already has me adding too many new shows to my viewing schedule.
In any case, that’s going to do it for this entry.
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
Is This Going To Be On The Test?
Last night I was sitting at the computer with the TV on, as it usually is in the evening, providing background noise.
Though I wasn’t actively watching it, I heard a woman in some movie describe her ex as being a “terrible womanizer.”
It occurred to me that “terrible womanizer” is a very good description for me. I am a terrible womanizer. I totally suck at it. When it comes to womanizing, I’m absolutely terrible.
I realize, of course, that such a definition was not what the woman had in mind in describing her unfaithful ex, but the thought did give me a laugh.
Of course, it was a bitter, angry, mirthless sort of laugh, but it was a laugh nonetheless...
On the topic of things I have been watching, I’ve been tuning in on Sunday nights for the new HBO series “Rome,” and so far it’s been pretty good. I do have to admit, though, that it can be kind of hard to follow, and sometimes I feel as though I should be getting a homework assignment at the end of it, as if I should be studying up for the next episode.
I just hope that the final is multiple choice.
Still, the fact that it can sometimes come off as a history lesson aside, it has been pretty entertaining so far.
I particularly liked a scene in which some surgeons put a metal plate in someone’s skull (Who knew the Romans messed around with trying to fix skull fractures? Kind of scary to think that they did.), and afterwards they give a really detailed prognosis: he may wake up in a few hours, or maybe tomorrow, or maybe never. As a follow up treatment they suggest praying to some particular gods.
Come to think of it, I guess medicine really hasn’t changed much in two thousand year: make two sacrifices to Mithras and call me in the morning.
Certainly, it’s likely to revert back to something similar if Conservative attacks on science continue. I wonder how long it will be before my niece Jourdan, who’s currently enrolled in Pre-Med, will be taught about the “humors” that control the body, and how the flat Earth is orbited by the sun and other planets as they’re pushed around by angels.
All this week “The Daily Show with Jon Stewart” is running a special reported entitled “Evolution Schmevolution” which discusses the controversy of Evolution vs. Intelligent Design. Go here to check out some very entertaining (and informative) clips.
Yesterday morning I was awoken a little before nine by my VoIP phone ringing.
This morning I was awoken a little before eight by my cell phone ringing. As mentioned, yesterday’s call was from my mother. This morning’s was from someone who called the wrong number and obviously realized it just as I was answering the phone, since no one was there when I picked up. My cell phone’s Caller ID only provides a name if the caller is someone saved in my phone book, so all I saw was an unfamiliar number, which I considered calling to find out why the hell they were waking me up at eight in the frickin’ morning, but I decided that going back to sleep would be preferable.
Thanks to yesterday’s rather lengthy nap I had a hard time getting to sleep last night, so I’d probably had a bit under four hours’ worth of sleep when the call came in.
Despite that, though, I was still up a bit before ten, and postponing my walk I went out into the world and did my shopping.
At the grocery store, the matronly Asian woman working the register opted to strike up a conversation with me, inquiring whether or not I live nearby. She stated that she was curious because she sees me in their so often. I said that I do live relatively nearby, but that I simply prefer shopping there even though there are other stores that are much closer, in particular Safeway.
She went on to tell me that she never shops at Safeway, though she’s not certain why.
And, if it weren’t for the meeting I have to go to on Thursday, that would probably be the most significant interaction I’d have with a human being (apart from my mother) for the week.
Once I got home and put the groceries away I made myself a quick lunch (protein shake) and then went for my walk.
After that was over I sat down to watch “Shark Tale,” which I’d set the DVR to grab.
It was okay, for what it was.
The interesting thing was how much the animators made the characters look like the actor’s providing their voices, which was more than a little disturbing in the case of Angelina Jolie’s character, because a fish should never be sexy.
I was sort of surprised that I never encountered any sort of uproar about the movie’s homosexual subtext. After all, the animated denizens of the deep are under close scrutiny to ensure that they aren’t part of the homosexual agenda, thanks to SpongeBob GayPants, and the “life choice” made by Lenny the shark is obviously a thinly-veiled reference to homosexuality. So clearly the movie is endorsing gayness, or at the very least, tolerance, and we can’t have that.
Of course, an interesting point could be raised by the fact that in one scene Lenny refuses to eat a shrimp. As I’m sure most of the biblical scholars that protest these kinds of homo-friendly movies are aware, despite the fact that you never see them protesting at Red Lobster or Joe’s Crab Shack, the eating of shellfish is defined in Leviticus as an abomination, so that particular scene could be seen as a thinly-veiled reference to Lenny refusing to give in to gayness.
Hmm, now I’m all confused. Is that shark a pole-smoker or not?
You know, it could just be that there is no “agenda” to be found in the movie, but rather a simple message stating that just because you’re different in any way from the pre-conceived notions of how you ought to be, that doesn’t necessarily make you bad.
Oh, wait, being different does make you bad? Well, never mind then.
In any case, glancing down at the message boards at IMDb (though not going in to actually read them), I see that at least one viewer did spot the subtext with his Straight Eye for the Queer Guy.
After all, it’s only through constant vigilance that the world can be made safe from…umm, cartoons, I guess. Tolerance? Understanding? Anyway, there are lots of media watchdog groups that are definitely keeping us safe from something.
And on that note, I think I’ll bring this entry to a close before some watchdog group spots my carefully hidden endorsement of the “smart-ass agenda.” After all, we need someone to keep us safe from having a sense of humor.
Though I wasn’t actively watching it, I heard a woman in some movie describe her ex as being a “terrible womanizer.”
It occurred to me that “terrible womanizer” is a very good description for me. I am a terrible womanizer. I totally suck at it. When it comes to womanizing, I’m absolutely terrible.
I realize, of course, that such a definition was not what the woman had in mind in describing her unfaithful ex, but the thought did give me a laugh.
Of course, it was a bitter, angry, mirthless sort of laugh, but it was a laugh nonetheless...
On the topic of things I have been watching, I’ve been tuning in on Sunday nights for the new HBO series “Rome,” and so far it’s been pretty good. I do have to admit, though, that it can be kind of hard to follow, and sometimes I feel as though I should be getting a homework assignment at the end of it, as if I should be studying up for the next episode.
I just hope that the final is multiple choice.
Still, the fact that it can sometimes come off as a history lesson aside, it has been pretty entertaining so far.
I particularly liked a scene in which some surgeons put a metal plate in someone’s skull (Who knew the Romans messed around with trying to fix skull fractures? Kind of scary to think that they did.), and afterwards they give a really detailed prognosis: he may wake up in a few hours, or maybe tomorrow, or maybe never. As a follow up treatment they suggest praying to some particular gods.
Come to think of it, I guess medicine really hasn’t changed much in two thousand year: make two sacrifices to Mithras and call me in the morning.
Certainly, it’s likely to revert back to something similar if Conservative attacks on science continue. I wonder how long it will be before my niece Jourdan, who’s currently enrolled in Pre-Med, will be taught about the “humors” that control the body, and how the flat Earth is orbited by the sun and other planets as they’re pushed around by angels.
All this week “The Daily Show with Jon Stewart” is running a special reported entitled “Evolution Schmevolution” which discusses the controversy of Evolution vs. Intelligent Design. Go here to check out some very entertaining (and informative) clips.
Yesterday morning I was awoken a little before nine by my VoIP phone ringing.
This morning I was awoken a little before eight by my cell phone ringing. As mentioned, yesterday’s call was from my mother. This morning’s was from someone who called the wrong number and obviously realized it just as I was answering the phone, since no one was there when I picked up. My cell phone’s Caller ID only provides a name if the caller is someone saved in my phone book, so all I saw was an unfamiliar number, which I considered calling to find out why the hell they were waking me up at eight in the frickin’ morning, but I decided that going back to sleep would be preferable.
Thanks to yesterday’s rather lengthy nap I had a hard time getting to sleep last night, so I’d probably had a bit under four hours’ worth of sleep when the call came in.
Despite that, though, I was still up a bit before ten, and postponing my walk I went out into the world and did my shopping.
At the grocery store, the matronly Asian woman working the register opted to strike up a conversation with me, inquiring whether or not I live nearby. She stated that she was curious because she sees me in their so often. I said that I do live relatively nearby, but that I simply prefer shopping there even though there are other stores that are much closer, in particular Safeway.
She went on to tell me that she never shops at Safeway, though she’s not certain why.
And, if it weren’t for the meeting I have to go to on Thursday, that would probably be the most significant interaction I’d have with a human being (apart from my mother) for the week.
Once I got home and put the groceries away I made myself a quick lunch (protein shake) and then went for my walk.
After that was over I sat down to watch “Shark Tale,” which I’d set the DVR to grab.
It was okay, for what it was.
The interesting thing was how much the animators made the characters look like the actor’s providing their voices, which was more than a little disturbing in the case of Angelina Jolie’s character, because a fish should never be sexy.
I was sort of surprised that I never encountered any sort of uproar about the movie’s homosexual subtext. After all, the animated denizens of the deep are under close scrutiny to ensure that they aren’t part of the homosexual agenda, thanks to SpongeBob GayPants, and the “life choice” made by Lenny the shark is obviously a thinly-veiled reference to homosexuality. So clearly the movie is endorsing gayness, or at the very least, tolerance, and we can’t have that.
Of course, an interesting point could be raised by the fact that in one scene Lenny refuses to eat a shrimp. As I’m sure most of the biblical scholars that protest these kinds of homo-friendly movies are aware, despite the fact that you never see them protesting at Red Lobster or Joe’s Crab Shack, the eating of shellfish is defined in Leviticus as an abomination, so that particular scene could be seen as a thinly-veiled reference to Lenny refusing to give in to gayness.
Hmm, now I’m all confused. Is that shark a pole-smoker or not?
You know, it could just be that there is no “agenda” to be found in the movie, but rather a simple message stating that just because you’re different in any way from the pre-conceived notions of how you ought to be, that doesn’t necessarily make you bad.
Oh, wait, being different does make you bad? Well, never mind then.
In any case, glancing down at the message boards at IMDb (though not going in to actually read them), I see that at least one viewer did spot the subtext with his Straight Eye for the Queer Guy.
After all, it’s only through constant vigilance that the world can be made safe from…umm, cartoons, I guess. Tolerance? Understanding? Anyway, there are lots of media watchdog groups that are definitely keeping us safe from something.
And on that note, I think I’ll bring this entry to a close before some watchdog group spots my carefully hidden endorsement of the “smart-ass agenda.” After all, we need someone to keep us safe from having a sense of humor.
Monday, September 12, 2005
The Day That Was Vs. The Day That Wasn't
My day began a little before 9 with me dreaming that I was at work and that the phone was ringing. Despite the fact that I had answered it, the phone insisted on continuing to ring.
After a couple of more rings I realized that I was at home, in bed, and that my phone was ringing.
Between the time it took for me to figure out what was going on and to get to the living room, where the phone was ringing, the phone had stopped ringing and the call had rolled over to voicemail.
I figured that it had either been my mother calling a bit early for some reason or a wrong number. I checked my voicemail, and the fact that the caller had hung up seemed to confirm the wrong number theory.
Still, I was up, and decided to keep the phone close at hand in case it rang again, which it did several minutes later.
It had, in fact, been my mother calling earlier, and she wondered where I had been earlier and I explained that I had been sleeping.
In a reversal of the usual order of things on Monday mornings, I went for a walk after I finished talking to my mother.
Once I got home I sat down to watch the first episode of “My Fair Brady,” which I had recorded last night.
Most of you are probably aware that I hate reality shows, as I’ve written about my antipathy towards them several times.
While I do hate the “Survivors,” “Apprentices,” and “Fear Factors” of the world, I do actually enjoy the “Celebreality” shows that air on VH-1.
I find these a little less annoying than the other kinds of shows simply because the people who participate in them are not “real” people, or the kinds of people at least touted as being “real” on the other shows. These shows focus on celebrities, of various kinds (some of whom actually were made famous on other reality shows), and provide much more entertainment than watching people eat bugs or try to pretend not to stare at Trump’s ridiculously bad hair-do.
Why do I find these shows more entertaining than their non-celebrity brethren? It’s difficult to say, though I think it has something to do with the group dynamic involved when bringing together a bunch of B and C list celebrities together. I suppose also that I find it a little more palatable to watch celebrities behave badly than to watch “normal” people behave badly. After all, we expect celebrities to be out of touch with reality and to behave like spoiled children. “Real” people are supposed to know better.
But whatever the case, I do enjoy watching shows like “The Surreal Life,” and now, “My Fair Brady,” which is actually a spin-off from the last season of “Surreal Life.”
The show focuses on the continuing romance that developed between Adrianne Curry, 23, the winner of the first season of “America’s Next Top Model,” and Christopher Knight, 47, most famous for the role of Peter Brady on “The Brady Bunch,” when Curry and Knight were housemates on the fourth season of “Surreal Life.”
So far it looks to be pretty entertaining.
After I finished watching that I decided to take a nap and ended up zonking out for about three and a half hours.
And that was my day as it actually unfolded.
Now, I was supposed to head to the movies to see “The Exorcism of Emily Rose” with Brian and Scott, but that plan was shelved due to the fact that Brian got sick over the weekend.
Yesterday Scott and I were discussing it and decided that we should give Brian a hard time for getting “sick” in order to avoid seeing a scary movie.
I concluded, though, that he’s a pussy no matter what.
Either he’s a pussy for chickening out of seeing the movie, or he’s a pussy for letting a cold kick his ass.
I’m kidding, of course; I thought Brian was a pussy long before this.
In all honesty, I have to admit that I’m pretty impressed that Brian has had such a long run of decent health. Usually his punk-ass immune system conks out on a pretty regular basis.
Okay, I guess that’s enough pointless Brian-bashing for one entry, though given how uneventful my day was that doesn’t really leave me much else to write about, so I guess that’ll actually do it for now.
After a couple of more rings I realized that I was at home, in bed, and that my phone was ringing.
Between the time it took for me to figure out what was going on and to get to the living room, where the phone was ringing, the phone had stopped ringing and the call had rolled over to voicemail.
I figured that it had either been my mother calling a bit early for some reason or a wrong number. I checked my voicemail, and the fact that the caller had hung up seemed to confirm the wrong number theory.
Still, I was up, and decided to keep the phone close at hand in case it rang again, which it did several minutes later.
It had, in fact, been my mother calling earlier, and she wondered where I had been earlier and I explained that I had been sleeping.
In a reversal of the usual order of things on Monday mornings, I went for a walk after I finished talking to my mother.
Once I got home I sat down to watch the first episode of “My Fair Brady,” which I had recorded last night.
Most of you are probably aware that I hate reality shows, as I’ve written about my antipathy towards them several times.
While I do hate the “Survivors,” “Apprentices,” and “Fear Factors” of the world, I do actually enjoy the “Celebreality” shows that air on VH-1.
I find these a little less annoying than the other kinds of shows simply because the people who participate in them are not “real” people, or the kinds of people at least touted as being “real” on the other shows. These shows focus on celebrities, of various kinds (some of whom actually were made famous on other reality shows), and provide much more entertainment than watching people eat bugs or try to pretend not to stare at Trump’s ridiculously bad hair-do.
Why do I find these shows more entertaining than their non-celebrity brethren? It’s difficult to say, though I think it has something to do with the group dynamic involved when bringing together a bunch of B and C list celebrities together. I suppose also that I find it a little more palatable to watch celebrities behave badly than to watch “normal” people behave badly. After all, we expect celebrities to be out of touch with reality and to behave like spoiled children. “Real” people are supposed to know better.
But whatever the case, I do enjoy watching shows like “The Surreal Life,” and now, “My Fair Brady,” which is actually a spin-off from the last season of “Surreal Life.”
The show focuses on the continuing romance that developed between Adrianne Curry, 23, the winner of the first season of “America’s Next Top Model,” and Christopher Knight, 47, most famous for the role of Peter Brady on “The Brady Bunch,” when Curry and Knight were housemates on the fourth season of “Surreal Life.”
So far it looks to be pretty entertaining.
After I finished watching that I decided to take a nap and ended up zonking out for about three and a half hours.
And that was my day as it actually unfolded.
Now, I was supposed to head to the movies to see “The Exorcism of Emily Rose” with Brian and Scott, but that plan was shelved due to the fact that Brian got sick over the weekend.
Yesterday Scott and I were discussing it and decided that we should give Brian a hard time for getting “sick” in order to avoid seeing a scary movie.
I concluded, though, that he’s a pussy no matter what.
Either he’s a pussy for chickening out of seeing the movie, or he’s a pussy for letting a cold kick his ass.
I’m kidding, of course; I thought Brian was a pussy long before this.
In all honesty, I have to admit that I’m pretty impressed that Brian has had such a long run of decent health. Usually his punk-ass immune system conks out on a pretty regular basis.
Okay, I guess that’s enough pointless Brian-bashing for one entry, though given how uneventful my day was that doesn’t really leave me much else to write about, so I guess that’ll actually do it for now.
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