Today did not get off to a great start.
Back when I was living in Tucson I came to understand that, to an extent, the fact that it’s a “dry heat” actually does make a difference.
When I was offered my current job, there were people who attempted to discourage me from taking it, as it entailed moving to Virginia where it “gets humid” and “it snows.”
Given that the alternative was to stay there fielding tech support calls from people who shouldn’t be allowed in the same room with a computer, let alone tool around on the Internet, for an amount of money that is, at this point, about a third of what I make out here, these were not compelling arguments.
After all, I practically grew up in the frickin’ tundra, so Virginia’s pathetic attempts at snowstorms couldn’t frighten me. And in the summer months, a good portion of my parents’ property was swamp land, so humidity didn’t scare me either.
Still, while the snowfall is laughable, the humidity of the summer can indeed be oppressive.
In fact, in the time that I’ve spent here I’ve developed a condition that I call “Swamp Neck,” an affliction that tends to be at its most prominent from June to September when VA is at its most humid.
Basically, the back of my neck sweats. A lot.
It does this whether I’m active or sedentary, and it causes a tremendous amount of itching and irritation.
It’s at its most intense when I’m sleeping, frequently causing me to wake up in the middle of the night with a sudden fit of dampness-induced itching that can drive me to the brink of insanity.
Last night marked the return of Swamp Neck, waking me up about two hours after I’d finally gotten to sleep.
A thunderstorm had been keeping me awake prior to that. At one point I had just begun to drift off when a nearby lightning strike set off thunder so loud that it sounded like it was right in my bedroom.
In any case, I didn’t get the best night’s sleep.
There is an easy way to deal with Swamp Neck, but it’s not cheap: turning on the A/C.
I’d prefer to avoid using the A/C as much as possible, but as this will mark my fourth year of dealing with Swamp Neck, I think my parsimonious ways will get tossed out the window…though they would actually bounce back at me, as the window will be closed to allow the A/C to work as efficiently as possible.
But whatever.
After a rough night of barely sleeping (I turned on my HVAC’s fan without actually turning on the A/C, which helped a little) I was awoken by music, music which didn’t sound familiar, so in my barely-conscious state I assumed that it couldn’t possible have anything to do with me.
After all, if were my alarm going off with music stored on my iPod, you would think that I’d recognize it. I didn’t, so therefore it wasn’t my alarm.
Of course, the music refused to go away, and after the first few chords I began to recognize the song (“How Could She?” by Type O Negative, for those of you wondering) and realized that it was, in fact, time to get up.
Normally it takes a couple of minutes for my eyes to adjust before I can put my contacts in and be (relatively) comfortable.
That took longer than usual today, and combined with a significant amount of lethargy, it took me over 20 minutes to put my contacts in, brush my teeth, put on my workout clothes, grab my gym and lunch bags, and head out the door.
Once I was finally on my way I realized, just as I was about to exit the parking lot, that I’d forgotten my badge. I was annoyed that I’d done so, but glad that I’d realized it as soon as I had, so I turned around, regretfully left the cool, air conditioned comfort of my car, however briefly, and headed back inside to grab my badge.
I got to the long-ass stoplight just as it was turning from green to yellow to red, ensuring that I’d have the longest possible wait. While there, I marveled as I often do at the amount of traffic. I mean, you would think that one of the advantages of commuting at 4:30 in the morning would be a lack of traffic, but such is not the case.
Once I arrived I found that my lousy night’s sleep seriously impacted (negatively) my desire to proceed even with the crappy workout routine (which is still rather light as I continue with my “easing back into it” cop-out), and so initially I’d only done one set, and found myself damned amazed that I even did that much.
I was about to pass the rest of the time by hitting the treadmill for a few minutes, but as I started I said, “Screw this,” and forced myself to put in another set.
With that out of the way, I showered, headed over to the convenience store to pick up a protein bar and a SoBe Energy (and a few other snacks), and came in to work.
I was greeted by 10 tickets total, with 4 active issues. That’s not really a lot under normal conditions (and is nothing compared to days past), but with only one person working the desk, it could be a hassle.
If necessary, Brian can come over and help out, but he had a big issue going on at the start of the day, and so couldn’t simply come over to fill in, but fortunately I found that three of the four issues were, in fact, non-issues, and was able to close them out, bringing me down to one active issue.
So I won’t really need Brian to help out (as long as things stay quiet), but I will, no doubt, be driven mad by the sheer mind-numbing boredom of sitting here alone with little or nothing to do.
And there are two more days of this ahead of me.
Still, I think I’d rather be bored than feel all frazzled and overwhelmed, though I can be reasonably certain that I just jinxed myself. *Sigh*
In any case, I suppose that I should get back to…to…well, back to something.
Friday, June 02, 2006
Thursday, June 01, 2006
All Things Seek Out Their Own Level
After my "surprisingly political" comments at the start of the week I thought I should end the week by bringing Threshold back to its usual level of discourse.
(Which is, I would say, probably somewhere around crotch-level)
Toward that end I started working on a picture that would help to promote national unity and show that, despite the idea that some people might have gotten, I do have respect for the flag.
Of course, I wasn't able to finish the picture (Why do I always start things that I know I won't be able to finish on Thursdays?), but I decided that it's important enough that I should take the unusual step of posting a sneak preview of my unfinished work.
So here it is:
Hmm, looks like I brought the level back up again. Oh well.
In any case, I hope you all have a good weekend. Me? Not so much, as Scott is on vacation so I'll be flying solo at work. Whee!
(Which is, I would say, probably somewhere around crotch-level)
Toward that end I started working on a picture that would help to promote national unity and show that, despite the idea that some people might have gotten, I do have respect for the flag.
Of course, I wasn't able to finish the picture (Why do I always start things that I know I won't be able to finish on Thursdays?), but I decided that it's important enough that I should take the unusual step of posting a sneak preview of my unfinished work.
So here it is:
Hmm, looks like I brought the level back up again. Oh well.
In any case, I hope you all have a good weekend. Me? Not so much, as Scott is on vacation so I'll be flying solo at work. Whee!
Fun With Filters
In much the same fashion that I played around with that picture I did of Jessica Simpson a while back, I started playing around with some plug-in effects on the picture I did of Alessandra Ambrosia.
Here are some of my favorite results put together (somehow I find the crayon border to be wholly appropriate).
My favorite, I think, though the low-resolution makes it difficult to get a good look at it, is the one in the lower right, which is sort of a Lite Brite effect.
I do really like the look of the watercolor in the top left, though.
Anyway, enjoy.
Here are some of my favorite results put together (somehow I find the crayon border to be wholly appropriate).
My favorite, I think, though the low-resolution makes it difficult to get a good look at it, is the one in the lower right, which is sort of a Lite Brite effect.
I do really like the look of the watercolor in the top left, though.
Anyway, enjoy.
Next Up: The Return Of Bat-Mite...
...who turns out to be trans-gendered.
DC Comics is reintroducing the character of Batwoman, a character most known for the fact that she fought crime with the aid of a utility purse.
Batwoman, AKA Kathy Kane, was introduced in the 50s and after sporadic appearances thoughout the years she was killed off in 1979.
As part of the continuity wipe that took place in 1985 history was changed so that Batwoman never even existed, though I believe that it as revealed that Kathy Kane existed in the new continuity, she just never looked at her purse and thought "Hey, I should fight crime with this."
Batwoman was just one of countless continuity casualties, though, and over the years as the people writing the comics have gotten nostalgic for the lame-ass...I mean, treasured, classic characters of comicdom's rich and varied past, many of those characters and concepts have been brought back in some form or another, so it was only a matter of time, I suppose, that Batwoman made her appearance.
This Batwoman will not, apparently, be known for the fact that she carries a purse (nor will she wear that retarded red and yellow costume), as this time around her hook will be that she is a lesbian.
Overall, my reaction to this news is simply, "Meh."
Batwoman was nearly dead by the time I really started reading comics seriously anyway. In fact, I think the first story I ever encountered with Batwoman was the story in which Batman brings her killer to justice, so I don't have any kind of emotional investment in the character one way or another.
Certainly her reintroduction doesn't piss me off the way the reintroduction of Krypto the Super-Dog did (Seriously, jackasses, why bring back the fucking dog? And why stop there? Why no Streaky the Super-Cat, or Beppo, the Super-Monkey? Peter David sort of brought back Comet the Super-Horse during his run on Supergirl [the Kryptonian variant of which has also been reintroduced] and announce the triumphant return of the Legion of Super-Pets. And if you think I made up any of these retarded ideas, think again. Anyway, not everyone remembers the retarded shit from the 60s quite so fondly as some of the assholes writing comics today.), so I don't really see it as that big of a deal.
And I will say that I've been very pleased with the Cassandra Cain Batgirl who was introduced several years ago to take over for Barbara Gordon, so it's always vaguely possible that something worthwhile can come of the reintroduction.
(Nothing worthwhile came out of bringing the damn dog back. Not. One. Goddamn. Thing. If they really wanted to see something done with a super-dog, they should have just contented themselves to read what Alan Moore did over on Rob Liefeld's Superman knock-off Supreme. That whole run was a fitting tribute to the nostalgic days of comicdom's past. Leave it to Alan to show people how things should be done, and leave it to everyone else to do a shitty job of copying him.)
By the way, for trivia buffs, there was actually another Batgirl. Her name was Bette Kane, and she was the niece of Batwoman. After the continuity changes she was reintroduced as a character who went by the name of Flamebird, a name that itself has nostalgic ties to comicdom's past, and which could open up a whole other can of worms and launch me on another rant, so I'll just stop there.
As for the lesbian aspect, in my mind (and most likely in the minds of much of the target audience of most comic books) every super-heroine (and female villain, and female supporting cast member, etc.) is at least bi-curious, so I don't see it as big deal.
What's kind of interesting is that, ostensibly, they made her a lesbian as part of an effort to promote diversity and inclusion, two things that seem to be major buzzwords of late, which I find ironic in a country that's becoming increasingly xenophobic and isolationist (with a dash of imperialism thrown in for that tangy zip).
Still, it's kind of a cop-out. I mean, lesbians are an easy sell, and they're everywhere.
Batwoman is hardly the first prominent lesbian in the DC Universe, though she may be the first super-heroine who is explicitly stated to be one. I honestly can't think of any others.
On the flip side, DC doesn't have any major male homosexual characters (I don't care what you heard about Batman and Robin). They've all been relegated to the background, appearing only in "very special" issues.
What they need to do to be really super-diverse and super-inclusive is to reintroduce (pause while I spellunk the depths of the vast catacomb of obscure and pointless comic book-related information that is my brain to come up with some suitably obscure and retarded character and/or concept) the Green Arrows of Many Nations, as they have built-in diversity, and the Jungle Green Arrow, or whatever the hell he was called, had frickin' lava arrows, so think about how cool that would be.
(I know, I'm disappointed that I didn't come up with something even more lame and obscure. Sorry, there's just too much stuff in my head to sift through it all.)
Anyway, I guess that's it for now.
So until Space Cabby gets busted for helping his passengers procure Space Prostitutes (and worst of all, helping out that Space Pedophile ring), the way Doiby Dickles did here on earth (He had to do something to keep busy while the "Green Lantrin" was off doing his thing), that does it for your latest comics-related update.
DC Comics is reintroducing the character of Batwoman, a character most known for the fact that she fought crime with the aid of a utility purse.
Batwoman, AKA Kathy Kane, was introduced in the 50s and after sporadic appearances thoughout the years she was killed off in 1979.
As part of the continuity wipe that took place in 1985 history was changed so that Batwoman never even existed, though I believe that it as revealed that Kathy Kane existed in the new continuity, she just never looked at her purse and thought "Hey, I should fight crime with this."
Batwoman was just one of countless continuity casualties, though, and over the years as the people writing the comics have gotten nostalgic for the lame-ass...I mean, treasured, classic characters of comicdom's rich and varied past, many of those characters and concepts have been brought back in some form or another, so it was only a matter of time, I suppose, that Batwoman made her appearance.
This Batwoman will not, apparently, be known for the fact that she carries a purse (nor will she wear that retarded red and yellow costume), as this time around her hook will be that she is a lesbian.
Overall, my reaction to this news is simply, "Meh."
Batwoman was nearly dead by the time I really started reading comics seriously anyway. In fact, I think the first story I ever encountered with Batwoman was the story in which Batman brings her killer to justice, so I don't have any kind of emotional investment in the character one way or another.
Certainly her reintroduction doesn't piss me off the way the reintroduction of Krypto the Super-Dog did (Seriously, jackasses, why bring back the fucking dog? And why stop there? Why no Streaky the Super-Cat, or Beppo, the Super-Monkey? Peter David sort of brought back Comet the Super-Horse during his run on Supergirl [the Kryptonian variant of which has also been reintroduced] and announce the triumphant return of the Legion of Super-Pets. And if you think I made up any of these retarded ideas, think again. Anyway, not everyone remembers the retarded shit from the 60s quite so fondly as some of the assholes writing comics today.), so I don't really see it as that big of a deal.
And I will say that I've been very pleased with the Cassandra Cain Batgirl who was introduced several years ago to take over for Barbara Gordon, so it's always vaguely possible that something worthwhile can come of the reintroduction.
(Nothing worthwhile came out of bringing the damn dog back. Not. One. Goddamn. Thing. If they really wanted to see something done with a super-dog, they should have just contented themselves to read what Alan Moore did over on Rob Liefeld's Superman knock-off Supreme. That whole run was a fitting tribute to the nostalgic days of comicdom's past. Leave it to Alan to show people how things should be done, and leave it to everyone else to do a shitty job of copying him.)
By the way, for trivia buffs, there was actually another Batgirl. Her name was Bette Kane, and she was the niece of Batwoman. After the continuity changes she was reintroduced as a character who went by the name of Flamebird, a name that itself has nostalgic ties to comicdom's past, and which could open up a whole other can of worms and launch me on another rant, so I'll just stop there.
As for the lesbian aspect, in my mind (and most likely in the minds of much of the target audience of most comic books) every super-heroine (and female villain, and female supporting cast member, etc.) is at least bi-curious, so I don't see it as big deal.
What's kind of interesting is that, ostensibly, they made her a lesbian as part of an effort to promote diversity and inclusion, two things that seem to be major buzzwords of late, which I find ironic in a country that's becoming increasingly xenophobic and isolationist (with a dash of imperialism thrown in for that tangy zip).
Still, it's kind of a cop-out. I mean, lesbians are an easy sell, and they're everywhere.
Batwoman is hardly the first prominent lesbian in the DC Universe, though she may be the first super-heroine who is explicitly stated to be one. I honestly can't think of any others.
On the flip side, DC doesn't have any major male homosexual characters (I don't care what you heard about Batman and Robin). They've all been relegated to the background, appearing only in "very special" issues.
What they need to do to be really super-diverse and super-inclusive is to reintroduce (pause while I spellunk the depths of the vast catacomb of obscure and pointless comic book-related information that is my brain to come up with some suitably obscure and retarded character and/or concept) the Green Arrows of Many Nations, as they have built-in diversity, and the Jungle Green Arrow, or whatever the hell he was called, had frickin' lava arrows, so think about how cool that would be.
(I know, I'm disappointed that I didn't come up with something even more lame and obscure. Sorry, there's just too much stuff in my head to sift through it all.)
Anyway, I guess that's it for now.
So until Space Cabby gets busted for helping his passengers procure Space Prostitutes (and worst of all, helping out that Space Pedophile ring), the way Doiby Dickles did here on earth (He had to do something to keep busy while the "Green Lantrin" was off doing his thing), that does it for your latest comics-related update.
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Okay, So It DIDN'T Take The Rest Of My Life...
...but I'm not so sure I exceeded my usual standards, either, so I guess we're even.
Anyway, here is the picture I mentioned yesterday of Alessandra Ambrosio.
(I left it pretty big so as to not lose too much detail)
I'll leave it up to you to decide if I exceeded my usual standards, but I did put a lot of effort into it (I spent most of today working on her hair alone), and I think it turned out well.
Not quite so well as I might have hoped, but then if things were to go the way I hoped they would, Ms. Ambrosio would have come out of my screen in real life the same way she's doing in the picture.
(Not that it would do me any good if she did, as I'm sure her first order of business after getting out of the screen would have been to get the hell out of my condo and away from me. *Sigh*)
In any case, I think it's an interesting take on the whole Pygmalion concept.
Maybe I should have called this "Galatea."
(By the way, I don't actually draw directly on my monitor; that was just a bit of artistic license. In the original image that I worked from, some guy is touching up her lip gloss.)
Anyway, here is the picture I mentioned yesterday of Alessandra Ambrosio.
(I left it pretty big so as to not lose too much detail)
I'll leave it up to you to decide if I exceeded my usual standards, but I did put a lot of effort into it (I spent most of today working on her hair alone), and I think it turned out well.
Not quite so well as I might have hoped, but then if things were to go the way I hoped they would, Ms. Ambrosio would have come out of my screen in real life the same way she's doing in the picture.
(Not that it would do me any good if she did, as I'm sure her first order of business after getting out of the screen would have been to get the hell out of my condo and away from me. *Sigh*)
In any case, I think it's an interesting take on the whole Pygmalion concept.
Maybe I should have called this "Galatea."
(By the way, I don't actually draw directly on my monitor; that was just a bit of artistic license. In the original image that I worked from, some guy is touching up her lip gloss.)
Classic Pulp
In a bit of inspired lunacy, Slate.com asked some of their designers to create Pulp Fiction-style covers for some literary classics.
You can (and should) view the results here.
You can (and should) view the results here.
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Super eXes, One Of God's Masterpieces, And Yes, THAT Bill Sienkiewicz
While I was at Wal-Mart today (where I went to pick up just a few things and ended up spending $85), I was walking past the bedding area when I noticed this bed set that had a “cow” motif, which is to say that the sheets, pillowcases, and comforter were all white with big black cowhide-like spots.
I thought, “Thank god I’m not still married to that crazy, cow-loving bitch or that’s what I’d be sleeping in.”
(She once got very upset with me when in discussing what my life might be like if she weren’t around I responded, “Well, I wouldn’t be living in a place that was decorated with a cow theme.”)
Speaking of crazy exes, one of the previews I saw today was for a movie starring Uma Thurman and Luke Wilson (the Wilson brother who doesn’t have a nose that looks like a penis or an annoying, high-pitched voice) called My Super Ex-Girlfriend, about a guy who finds out that the woman he just broke up with is a super-hero, complete with super powers, and a superhuman desire for revenge. Hell, it seems, hath no fury like a superwoman scorned.
It looks pretty entertaining, so much so that I’m considering going to see it, despite the fact that it is, basically, a romantic comedy (I shudder at the thought).
(Best scene in the preview: Uma flying past Luke’s apartment and tossing a live shark through his bedroom window.)
Of course, that brings us to the movie I was actually there to see, and my take on it.
I was impressed.
Was it better than the first two? That depends, on a lot of things.
Certainly it was more spectacular and action-packed than the first two, and the story – which combined, in a very loosely adapted way, two classic storylines from the comics – was at least passable (more on that in a bit).
Most of the pre-release complaints I’d encountered about it on various geek-related Web sites proved groundless, at least for me, as the Juggernaut looked much better on-screen than publicity photos suggested, and the actor’s performance wasn’t nearly as bad as I’d read (loved the nod to “The Juggernaut, Bitch!”), for example.
The big surprise for me was Kelsey Grammer as Beast. Certainly he looked better than the current tabby cat looking version of Hank McCoy that appears in the comics (they did a very good job of bulking him up), his action sequences were quintessential Beast, and it was very cool to hear him say, “Oh my stars and garters!”
All of Magneto’s major action scenes rocked about as hard as it’s possible for anything to rock.
It was nice to see Kitty Pryde used pretty effectively in this movie, and I have to say that Ellen Page won me over, though I still don’t think she’s quite pretty enough to play Kitty (Apparently a common complaint I have about the X movies, as you’ll see in a minute.)
This outing was much, much more violent than the last two, thanks in no small part to some very cool scenes featuring Wolverine getting a chance to cut loose (literally), but also thanks to some of the aforementioned hard-rocking Magneto scenes.
There were a lot of mutants in this movie, most of them throwaway characters, but one thing I want to mention, in reference to a review written by MTV’s Kurt Loder, is that the reason that the mutant with sonic-based powers (whom Scott and I both initially mistook for mutant prostitute Stacy X) is called Arclight is because of Operation Arclight, a Vietnam War campaign that involved massive amounts of bombing from B-52s, which, not surprisingly, caused a lot of vibrations. That’s why her powers didn’t have anything to do with light. It’s called “Wikipedia,” Loder. Look into it. Or, you know, just ask me.
Anyway, I did have a few problems with the movie. Trying to encompass two major stories in one movie ultimately does a disservice to both, and, quite frankly, if they would have chosen only one story to focus on(with all due respect to Joss Whedon, who wrote the other story), I would rather that it had been the Phoenix storyline.
Honestly, I felt like that story got short-shrift.
I had a few other problems with the Phoenix aspects as well, such as the total lack of the Phoenix Effect. I mean, come on! Compared to the Golden Gate Bridge scene, a giant bird-shaped corona of flame around Jean wouldn’t have been too much to ask for.
Also, while it was perhaps a nod to Whedon and Buffy the Vampire Slayer, the dark-eyed, veiny look of “Dark Willow” (which, as a storyline on the series, was itself a nod to the original Dark Phoenix Saga) just seemed kind of silly and derivative, and, quite honestly, kind of gross.
Normal, non-cosmically powered Jean Grey is a phenomenally beautiful woman. Jean Grey as Dark Phoenix, evil incarnate though she may be, is supremely beautiful in her dark and terrible majesty. She should not look as though she has varicose veins on her face.
The thing is, though she is an attractive woman, and I do realize that she used to be a model, I’ve never felt that Famke Janssen was sufficiently beautiful to play Jean.
However, with the long, flaming red hair that they put on her in this movie, they had gone a long way toward making her more effectively look the part. Then they ruined it with the veins (which I honestly never really cared for on Dark Willow, either).
Still, it’s a minor sticking point.
Where would I rank this latest X offering amidst its comic book movie peers? Hard to say. Certainly above some of the last few offerings, but still well below Sin City and the Spider-Man movies, though I still haven’t decided where it ranks in the X trilogy itself.
In any case, it’s definitely worth seeing if for no other reason than that Magneto will rock your face off.
Prior to going to the movie, as mentioned, I did some shopping and got a haircut. Nothing too exciting there.
During the movie, Scott got a text message from Brian, with a picture.
Based on what Brian has reported to us in the past, there seems to be a statistically unlikely number of plane crashes in Leesburg. Brian had sent an image of the today’s addition to the tally to Scott (and to me, though I didn’t get it until after I left the theater and turned my phone on).
Said crash, I’m assuming, made for the worst drive home ever, as I had to take a really irritating and slow-moving detour because the exit that leads almost directly to my place was blocked off.
Hmm, guess it wasn’t the plane crash that did it, but sagging power lines that got pulled down by an A/C unit on a flat bed trailer.
(You can read about it here, if you’re interested. Clicking on the site’s logo will bring you back to the main page where you can also read about the plane crash.)
Either way, if there were ever a time in my life that I wished that I had powers like Magneto or Phoenix, today, when it took me 45 minutes to get from a point less than a mile away from my home to my home, was that day.
At the very least, it would have been nice, as I noted somewhat prophetically to Scott during the movie, to have the X-Men’s jet to make my commute that much faster.
Then again, if I tried flying it over Leesburg I’d most likely crash.
The Rest Of My Born Days Department:
Last night I started working on a picture that, if I keep working on it, could possibly take me the rest of my life to finish.
Is it a terribly complex image? No, not really, it’s just that in working on this particular picture I’m trying to hold myself to a much higher standard than usual.
Why? Well, I figure it’s the least I can do, given that in making the person whose image I’m trying to reproduce God clearly held Himself to a much higher standard than usual.
(Especially in contrast to the Platypus. What was He thinking?)
The subject is Brazilian model Allesandra Ambrosia.
If you’ve seen a Victoria’s Secret ad recently, you’ve seen her, and if you’re like me you’ve taken notice of how phenomenally beautiful (like how Jean Grey ought to be) she is.
Also if you’re like me, you view Victoria’s Secret ads as a mixed blessing at best…and you really ought to do your best to not be like me, because, seriously, why would you want that?
Anyway, I just feel inspired to really give this image of her my all (which is why I’ll probably never actually bother working on it).
Someone recently posted a bunch of pictures of her in a newsgroup (which is where I found the source image for the picture in question), and in addition to being pleased to discover so many really high-quality pictures of her, I was also amused by the naming convention that the poster used.
Many of the pictures had file names like “ILoveHer01.jpg,” “ILoveHer02.jpg,” and so forth.
I can’t say that I blame him.
I should mention that when I opened my Venture Bros. 2 disc DVD set (Watched “Ghosts of the Sargasso” while cooking dinner. Very little in life is more surreally and jaw-droppingly hilarious than the sight of Brock Samson using a man to beat another man to death, particularly when he’s not using his hands to do it. I’ll let you figure out the mechanics of it. Hint: it involves his ass.) and slid it out of its slip cover, I was surprised and pleased to discover that the artwork on the packaging was done by none other than Bill Sienkiewicz!
Yes, that Bill Sienkiewicz!
Okay, I realize that you have no idea who that is, or even how to pronounce his name (It’s pronounced “Bill” as in dollar…oh, wait, that’s not the tricky part. It’s “Shine-ka-vicks”), but trust me, it’s very, very cool.
In any case, it got up to 97 degrees here today and it’s still very, very hot. Too hot to sit here trying to write anything worthwhile, though apparently every day it’s too “something” for me to accomplish that…
I thought, “Thank god I’m not still married to that crazy, cow-loving bitch or that’s what I’d be sleeping in.”
(She once got very upset with me when in discussing what my life might be like if she weren’t around I responded, “Well, I wouldn’t be living in a place that was decorated with a cow theme.”)
Speaking of crazy exes, one of the previews I saw today was for a movie starring Uma Thurman and Luke Wilson (the Wilson brother who doesn’t have a nose that looks like a penis or an annoying, high-pitched voice) called My Super Ex-Girlfriend, about a guy who finds out that the woman he just broke up with is a super-hero, complete with super powers, and a superhuman desire for revenge. Hell, it seems, hath no fury like a superwoman scorned.
It looks pretty entertaining, so much so that I’m considering going to see it, despite the fact that it is, basically, a romantic comedy (I shudder at the thought).
(Best scene in the preview: Uma flying past Luke’s apartment and tossing a live shark through his bedroom window.)
Of course, that brings us to the movie I was actually there to see, and my take on it.
I was impressed.
Was it better than the first two? That depends, on a lot of things.
Certainly it was more spectacular and action-packed than the first two, and the story – which combined, in a very loosely adapted way, two classic storylines from the comics – was at least passable (more on that in a bit).
Most of the pre-release complaints I’d encountered about it on various geek-related Web sites proved groundless, at least for me, as the Juggernaut looked much better on-screen than publicity photos suggested, and the actor’s performance wasn’t nearly as bad as I’d read (loved the nod to “The Juggernaut, Bitch!”), for example.
The big surprise for me was Kelsey Grammer as Beast. Certainly he looked better than the current tabby cat looking version of Hank McCoy that appears in the comics (they did a very good job of bulking him up), his action sequences were quintessential Beast, and it was very cool to hear him say, “Oh my stars and garters!”
All of Magneto’s major action scenes rocked about as hard as it’s possible for anything to rock.
It was nice to see Kitty Pryde used pretty effectively in this movie, and I have to say that Ellen Page won me over, though I still don’t think she’s quite pretty enough to play Kitty (Apparently a common complaint I have about the X movies, as you’ll see in a minute.)
This outing was much, much more violent than the last two, thanks in no small part to some very cool scenes featuring Wolverine getting a chance to cut loose (literally), but also thanks to some of the aforementioned hard-rocking Magneto scenes.
There were a lot of mutants in this movie, most of them throwaway characters, but one thing I want to mention, in reference to a review written by MTV’s Kurt Loder, is that the reason that the mutant with sonic-based powers (whom Scott and I both initially mistook for mutant prostitute Stacy X) is called Arclight is because of Operation Arclight, a Vietnam War campaign that involved massive amounts of bombing from B-52s, which, not surprisingly, caused a lot of vibrations. That’s why her powers didn’t have anything to do with light. It’s called “Wikipedia,” Loder. Look into it. Or, you know, just ask me.
Anyway, I did have a few problems with the movie. Trying to encompass two major stories in one movie ultimately does a disservice to both, and, quite frankly, if they would have chosen only one story to focus on(with all due respect to Joss Whedon, who wrote the other story), I would rather that it had been the Phoenix storyline.
Honestly, I felt like that story got short-shrift.
I had a few other problems with the Phoenix aspects as well, such as the total lack of the Phoenix Effect. I mean, come on! Compared to the Golden Gate Bridge scene, a giant bird-shaped corona of flame around Jean wouldn’t have been too much to ask for.
Also, while it was perhaps a nod to Whedon and Buffy the Vampire Slayer, the dark-eyed, veiny look of “Dark Willow” (which, as a storyline on the series, was itself a nod to the original Dark Phoenix Saga) just seemed kind of silly and derivative, and, quite honestly, kind of gross.
Normal, non-cosmically powered Jean Grey is a phenomenally beautiful woman. Jean Grey as Dark Phoenix, evil incarnate though she may be, is supremely beautiful in her dark and terrible majesty. She should not look as though she has varicose veins on her face.
The thing is, though she is an attractive woman, and I do realize that she used to be a model, I’ve never felt that Famke Janssen was sufficiently beautiful to play Jean.
However, with the long, flaming red hair that they put on her in this movie, they had gone a long way toward making her more effectively look the part. Then they ruined it with the veins (which I honestly never really cared for on Dark Willow, either).
Still, it’s a minor sticking point.
Where would I rank this latest X offering amidst its comic book movie peers? Hard to say. Certainly above some of the last few offerings, but still well below Sin City and the Spider-Man movies, though I still haven’t decided where it ranks in the X trilogy itself.
In any case, it’s definitely worth seeing if for no other reason than that Magneto will rock your face off.
Prior to going to the movie, as mentioned, I did some shopping and got a haircut. Nothing too exciting there.
During the movie, Scott got a text message from Brian, with a picture.
Based on what Brian has reported to us in the past, there seems to be a statistically unlikely number of plane crashes in Leesburg. Brian had sent an image of the today’s addition to the tally to Scott (and to me, though I didn’t get it until after I left the theater and turned my phone on).
Said crash, I’m assuming, made for the worst drive home ever, as I had to take a really irritating and slow-moving detour because the exit that leads almost directly to my place was blocked off.
Hmm, guess it wasn’t the plane crash that did it, but sagging power lines that got pulled down by an A/C unit on a flat bed trailer.
(You can read about it here, if you’re interested. Clicking on the site’s logo will bring you back to the main page where you can also read about the plane crash.)
Either way, if there were ever a time in my life that I wished that I had powers like Magneto or Phoenix, today, when it took me 45 minutes to get from a point less than a mile away from my home to my home, was that day.
At the very least, it would have been nice, as I noted somewhat prophetically to Scott during the movie, to have the X-Men’s jet to make my commute that much faster.
Then again, if I tried flying it over Leesburg I’d most likely crash.
The Rest Of My Born Days Department:
Last night I started working on a picture that, if I keep working on it, could possibly take me the rest of my life to finish.
Is it a terribly complex image? No, not really, it’s just that in working on this particular picture I’m trying to hold myself to a much higher standard than usual.
Why? Well, I figure it’s the least I can do, given that in making the person whose image I’m trying to reproduce God clearly held Himself to a much higher standard than usual.
(Especially in contrast to the Platypus. What was He thinking?)
The subject is Brazilian model Allesandra Ambrosia.
If you’ve seen a Victoria’s Secret ad recently, you’ve seen her, and if you’re like me you’ve taken notice of how phenomenally beautiful (like how Jean Grey ought to be) she is.
Also if you’re like me, you view Victoria’s Secret ads as a mixed blessing at best…and you really ought to do your best to not be like me, because, seriously, why would you want that?
Anyway, I just feel inspired to really give this image of her my all (which is why I’ll probably never actually bother working on it).
Someone recently posted a bunch of pictures of her in a newsgroup (which is where I found the source image for the picture in question), and in addition to being pleased to discover so many really high-quality pictures of her, I was also amused by the naming convention that the poster used.
Many of the pictures had file names like “ILoveHer01.jpg,” “ILoveHer02.jpg,” and so forth.
I can’t say that I blame him.
I should mention that when I opened my Venture Bros. 2 disc DVD set (Watched “Ghosts of the Sargasso” while cooking dinner. Very little in life is more surreally and jaw-droppingly hilarious than the sight of Brock Samson using a man to beat another man to death, particularly when he’s not using his hands to do it. I’ll let you figure out the mechanics of it. Hint: it involves his ass.) and slid it out of its slip cover, I was surprised and pleased to discover that the artwork on the packaging was done by none other than Bill Sienkiewicz!
Yes, that Bill Sienkiewicz!
Okay, I realize that you have no idea who that is, or even how to pronounce his name (It’s pronounced “Bill” as in dollar…oh, wait, that’s not the tricky part. It’s “Shine-ka-vicks”), but trust me, it’s very, very cool.
In any case, it got up to 97 degrees here today and it’s still very, very hot. Too hot to sit here trying to write anything worthwhile, though apparently every day it’s too “something” for me to accomplish that…
Cockpits! Booby Traps!
In addition to seeing the latest X-Men movie today, I’ll be picking up season one of The Venture Bros. on DVD, which is something that I hope lots and lots of other people will do.
I’ve mentioned The Venture Bros. here many times before (new season starts soon!), but for those unfamiliar with this hilarious piece of filmed entertainment I’ll try to clue you in.
The show airs as part of the Adult Swim line of programming on Cartoon Network, which means that while it is a cartoon, it is decidedly not for children.
I think it can best be described as Jonny Quest meets the Hardy Boys meets Scooby-Doo meets the Fantastic Four meets a Times Square transsexual prostitute.
(Come to think of it, I believe that actually happened in one episode. The prostitute part, I mean.)
The show follows the lives of Dr. T.S. “Rusty” Venture, son of legendary super-scientist Dr. Jonas Venture, his fraternal twin sons Hank and Dean (the titular Bros.), and their bodyguard, super-agent Brock Samson (voiced to perfection by Patrick Warburton).
Along with their robot H.E.L.P.E.R., the Ventures and Brock jet around on adventures, foiling the evil schemes of arch-villains such as The Monarch and Baron Underbheit.
In theory, at least.
Mostly it focuses on what a depressing failure Dr. Venture is, especially in contrast to his father’s legacy of intellectual achievement, and how he manages to eke out an existence selling off what remains of that legacy, how out of touch with reality Hank and Dean are as they look for adventure around every corner, and the psycho-sexual nature of Brock’s homicidal impulses.
Somewhere in that mix it will make you laugh your ass off and say, “Oh my god, I can’t believe they did/said that!”
So go out and buy season one on DVD and watch for new episodes in June.
Okay, I’m done being a shill for now.
Woke up early this morning and, feeling energetic despite having gotten under seven hours of sleep, headed out for an early morning walk. I only put in about two miles, but it was something, anyway.
Now I’m going to get ready to head out into the world, as I’m going to do some shopping and get a haircut before meeting Scott and Stacy at the theater.
I’ve mentioned The Venture Bros. here many times before (new season starts soon!), but for those unfamiliar with this hilarious piece of filmed entertainment I’ll try to clue you in.
The show airs as part of the Adult Swim line of programming on Cartoon Network, which means that while it is a cartoon, it is decidedly not for children.
I think it can best be described as Jonny Quest meets the Hardy Boys meets Scooby-Doo meets the Fantastic Four meets a Times Square transsexual prostitute.
(Come to think of it, I believe that actually happened in one episode. The prostitute part, I mean.)
The show follows the lives of Dr. T.S. “Rusty” Venture, son of legendary super-scientist Dr. Jonas Venture, his fraternal twin sons Hank and Dean (the titular Bros.), and their bodyguard, super-agent Brock Samson (voiced to perfection by Patrick Warburton).
Along with their robot H.E.L.P.E.R., the Ventures and Brock jet around on adventures, foiling the evil schemes of arch-villains such as The Monarch and Baron Underbheit.
In theory, at least.
Mostly it focuses on what a depressing failure Dr. Venture is, especially in contrast to his father’s legacy of intellectual achievement, and how he manages to eke out an existence selling off what remains of that legacy, how out of touch with reality Hank and Dean are as they look for adventure around every corner, and the psycho-sexual nature of Brock’s homicidal impulses.
Somewhere in that mix it will make you laugh your ass off and say, “Oh my god, I can’t believe they did/said that!”
So go out and buy season one on DVD and watch for new episodes in June.
Okay, I’m done being a shill for now.
Woke up early this morning and, feeling energetic despite having gotten under seven hours of sleep, headed out for an early morning walk. I only put in about two miles, but it was something, anyway.
Now I’m going to get ready to head out into the world, as I’m going to do some shopping and get a haircut before meeting Scott and Stacy at the theater.
Monday, May 29, 2006
Memories 4 Sale, Flag Hags, Conversations With My Mother, And The Bicycle Conundrum
So it’s Memorial Day.
Years ago they, back when RAM was more precious than gold, there used to be a lot of companies that would advertise in the back of computer magazines with the proclamation “We’ll buy your old memory!”
I would look at those ads and say, “Great, what’ll you give me for the last eight years?”
Along a similar vein, the other day I realized that my life so far has largely been a sequence of events that, upon reflection, simply cause me to shake my head and sigh.
So.
Memorial Day.
Ah well, it’s not meant to be a memorial to your own life, so let’s hear it for all of our Veterans and departed loved ones and move on to some other topic.
Of course, said topic does involve Veterans, or at least a Veteran, namely my ex-father-in-law, whom my mother informed me recently wrote in a letter to the editor of the local paper back home.
Evidently in running a profile on some prominent local citizen the paper ran a picture of her in front of an American flag.
He wrote in to object because the manner in which the photo and text were laid out led to her name being set atop the picture of the flag.
Bear in mind that this was merely how it was printed in the paper; the woman’s name was not printed on the actual flag.
Still, he saw this as cause to launch off onto a diatribe about this and other “desecrations” of the flag that, from my mother’s description, sounded like the kind of sheer nonsense that always made my eyes glaze over whenever he’d spout it around me, and reminded me that one of the benefits of the dissolution of my marriage was that I never had to spend time with him or any of those people again.
Beyond rolling my eyes at his craziness, though, I was struck, as I often am when the topic of “desecrating” the flag comes up, by the silliness of it all.
After all, the idea that a flag can be desecrated implies that it is, in some fashion, sacred, and in a nation which so many citizens are quick to claim is a “Christian” nation, that sounds an awful lot like idolatry.
Of course, as much as those citizens try to get the Ten Commandments put up in government buildings, they don’t really work quite so hard at actually following them, so I suppose they don’t see the problem with worshipping a graven image, or at least elevating a piece of fabric to the level of sacred.
Now there are those who would argue that it’s not so much the piece of fabric that they’re concerned with as the ideals that the piece of fabric represents.
Okay, but guess what? Rip the fabric (or print someone’s name on it) and the ideals are still there.
As symbols of ideals go, flags really aren’t that great anyway. I mean, sure, they can be visually striking and serve as an easy to identify rallying point (much like a corporate logo), but they have a tendency to fade, get dirty, and, as has been demonstrated many times, they burn pretty easily.
Besides, every country has a flag. Every single one. Even the countries that are total shitholes have flags.
Ultimately our flag is just another piece of fabric amid hundreds, with nothing to make it stand out.
So as a symbol of America and American ideals, the flag is really sort of lackluster, to be perfectly honest. Oh sure, it’s easily identifiable and it’s got a good color scheme, but what does it really say about America? That there are 50 states? That there were originally 13 colonies? How does that really represent America’s ideals?
The fact of the matter is that we have a much better symbol, one that actually should be considered sacred, one that actually does represent American ideals, and one that actually does stand out: the Constitution.
More specifically, the Bill of Rights.
Hell, even Nigeria has a flag, but does it have a guarantee of essential human rights and freedoms? I think not.
And yet, so few people really appreciate this rare and special symbol of who and what we are as a nation, and so many would happily allow the rights it guarantees to be trampled over as they spend their time worrying about how a picture of a piece of fabric is being reproduced, and as I exalt this document most people’s eyes will glaze over just as surely as mine do when they exalt the flag.
After all, it’s that pesky litany of rights that keeps letting people get away with desecrating the flag.
*Sigh*
Anyway, to bring my little rant to a close, I’ll mention that as I was out walking today (there were like a million people, all on bikes, out on the trails) I saw a site that can best be described as bitterly ironic, considering what was on my mind as I was walking.
It was a rusted out old pick up driving along, an American flag, stapled to a thin strip of scrap wood, which was wedged into one of the holes on the box of the truck, flapping in the breeze as the truck drove past.
With a mirthless smile I gave the flag a quick salute and kept on walking…
Anyway, now that I’ve finished demonstrating my lack of patriotism by talking about how I believe in the actual ideals of the country rather than the piece of fabric that’s supposed to represent those ideals, I’ll move on to more standard fare.
While I was talking to my mother she mentioned that she and my dad have been invited to go somewhere that they don’t want to go. Trying to put a positive spin on it, she said, “Well, maybe it’ll be all right and we’ll have a good time. You know how sometimes you’re dreading going somewhere but then you end up having a really nice time?”
“No,” I said, flatly.
My mother sighed, and said, “Well, of course you don’t, but normal people have that happen sometimes.”
Later, we discussed the possible upcoming schedule change, and I mentioned that Scott would be pleased to have Sunday off, as it would allow him to go to church with Stacy and the kids.
“You should go to church,” she said.
“For what?”
“You can go and pretend to believe. It would give you something to do. Maybe you’d meet someone.”“I don’t want to meet someone who goes to church.”
The conversation pretty much disintegrated from there into the standard fare about thinking positive and so forth, though later, when she was expressing a continued lack of interest in going to the dinner they were invited to, I was able to sarcastically turn her own words against her as I encouraged her to think positive.
Over the weekend I made up a meal plan for the week in order to help me plan out my grocery shopping. I used to do it, but got out of the habit.
In any case, even thought I had a meal planned for today, and needed to go grocery shopping if I was going to eat anything other than what I have in the freezer (which I don’t like to do, as those are my lunches for work), I decided to not go out into the world.
After all, it’s a holiday, so it was bound to be even more full of people than usual.
Ultimately, though, I decided that I would go shopping, though I was going to just get what I needed for today.
Once I was ready to go out, though, I decided that I’d be better off just getting all of my shopping over with, and so I did.
I had lunch when I got home, and then, as mentioned, went for a walk, as it’s a beautiful, sunny day.
As I mentioned, the trails were filled to overflowing with people on bikes.
I’ve been toying with the notion of buying myself a bike, if for no other reason than that I’m tired of being the only person on the trails actually walking.
There would be a lot of hassles associated with having a bike, though, not the least of which is storage.
Still, it would be better exercise than just walking, and I’m sick of having those smug, spandex-wearing bastards whizzing past me as I slowly plod along, so the idea keeps kicking around in my head.
So I don’t know.
Tomorrow I’ll be going to see X-Men 3: The Last Stand with Scott and Stacy, and that’s pretty much the extent of my plans for the week (beyond my meal plans anyway)
In any case, I hope all of you are having a fine, suitably patriotic Memorial Day.
Years ago they, back when RAM was more precious than gold, there used to be a lot of companies that would advertise in the back of computer magazines with the proclamation “We’ll buy your old memory!”
I would look at those ads and say, “Great, what’ll you give me for the last eight years?”
Along a similar vein, the other day I realized that my life so far has largely been a sequence of events that, upon reflection, simply cause me to shake my head and sigh.
So.
Memorial Day.
Ah well, it’s not meant to be a memorial to your own life, so let’s hear it for all of our Veterans and departed loved ones and move on to some other topic.
Of course, said topic does involve Veterans, or at least a Veteran, namely my ex-father-in-law, whom my mother informed me recently wrote in a letter to the editor of the local paper back home.
Evidently in running a profile on some prominent local citizen the paper ran a picture of her in front of an American flag.
He wrote in to object because the manner in which the photo and text were laid out led to her name being set atop the picture of the flag.
Bear in mind that this was merely how it was printed in the paper; the woman’s name was not printed on the actual flag.
Still, he saw this as cause to launch off onto a diatribe about this and other “desecrations” of the flag that, from my mother’s description, sounded like the kind of sheer nonsense that always made my eyes glaze over whenever he’d spout it around me, and reminded me that one of the benefits of the dissolution of my marriage was that I never had to spend time with him or any of those people again.
Beyond rolling my eyes at his craziness, though, I was struck, as I often am when the topic of “desecrating” the flag comes up, by the silliness of it all.
After all, the idea that a flag can be desecrated implies that it is, in some fashion, sacred, and in a nation which so many citizens are quick to claim is a “Christian” nation, that sounds an awful lot like idolatry.
Of course, as much as those citizens try to get the Ten Commandments put up in government buildings, they don’t really work quite so hard at actually following them, so I suppose they don’t see the problem with worshipping a graven image, or at least elevating a piece of fabric to the level of sacred.
Now there are those who would argue that it’s not so much the piece of fabric that they’re concerned with as the ideals that the piece of fabric represents.
Okay, but guess what? Rip the fabric (or print someone’s name on it) and the ideals are still there.
As symbols of ideals go, flags really aren’t that great anyway. I mean, sure, they can be visually striking and serve as an easy to identify rallying point (much like a corporate logo), but they have a tendency to fade, get dirty, and, as has been demonstrated many times, they burn pretty easily.
Besides, every country has a flag. Every single one. Even the countries that are total shitholes have flags.
Ultimately our flag is just another piece of fabric amid hundreds, with nothing to make it stand out.
So as a symbol of America and American ideals, the flag is really sort of lackluster, to be perfectly honest. Oh sure, it’s easily identifiable and it’s got a good color scheme, but what does it really say about America? That there are 50 states? That there were originally 13 colonies? How does that really represent America’s ideals?
The fact of the matter is that we have a much better symbol, one that actually should be considered sacred, one that actually does represent American ideals, and one that actually does stand out: the Constitution.
More specifically, the Bill of Rights.
Hell, even Nigeria has a flag, but does it have a guarantee of essential human rights and freedoms? I think not.
And yet, so few people really appreciate this rare and special symbol of who and what we are as a nation, and so many would happily allow the rights it guarantees to be trampled over as they spend their time worrying about how a picture of a piece of fabric is being reproduced, and as I exalt this document most people’s eyes will glaze over just as surely as mine do when they exalt the flag.
After all, it’s that pesky litany of rights that keeps letting people get away with desecrating the flag.
*Sigh*
Anyway, to bring my little rant to a close, I’ll mention that as I was out walking today (there were like a million people, all on bikes, out on the trails) I saw a site that can best be described as bitterly ironic, considering what was on my mind as I was walking.
It was a rusted out old pick up driving along, an American flag, stapled to a thin strip of scrap wood, which was wedged into one of the holes on the box of the truck, flapping in the breeze as the truck drove past.
With a mirthless smile I gave the flag a quick salute and kept on walking…
Anyway, now that I’ve finished demonstrating my lack of patriotism by talking about how I believe in the actual ideals of the country rather than the piece of fabric that’s supposed to represent those ideals, I’ll move on to more standard fare.
While I was talking to my mother she mentioned that she and my dad have been invited to go somewhere that they don’t want to go. Trying to put a positive spin on it, she said, “Well, maybe it’ll be all right and we’ll have a good time. You know how sometimes you’re dreading going somewhere but then you end up having a really nice time?”
“No,” I said, flatly.
My mother sighed, and said, “Well, of course you don’t, but normal people have that happen sometimes.”
Later, we discussed the possible upcoming schedule change, and I mentioned that Scott would be pleased to have Sunday off, as it would allow him to go to church with Stacy and the kids.
“You should go to church,” she said.
“For what?”
“You can go and pretend to believe. It would give you something to do. Maybe you’d meet someone.”“I don’t want to meet someone who goes to church.”
The conversation pretty much disintegrated from there into the standard fare about thinking positive and so forth, though later, when she was expressing a continued lack of interest in going to the dinner they were invited to, I was able to sarcastically turn her own words against her as I encouraged her to think positive.
Over the weekend I made up a meal plan for the week in order to help me plan out my grocery shopping. I used to do it, but got out of the habit.
In any case, even thought I had a meal planned for today, and needed to go grocery shopping if I was going to eat anything other than what I have in the freezer (which I don’t like to do, as those are my lunches for work), I decided to not go out into the world.
After all, it’s a holiday, so it was bound to be even more full of people than usual.
Ultimately, though, I decided that I would go shopping, though I was going to just get what I needed for today.
Once I was ready to go out, though, I decided that I’d be better off just getting all of my shopping over with, and so I did.
I had lunch when I got home, and then, as mentioned, went for a walk, as it’s a beautiful, sunny day.
As I mentioned, the trails were filled to overflowing with people on bikes.
I’ve been toying with the notion of buying myself a bike, if for no other reason than that I’m tired of being the only person on the trails actually walking.
There would be a lot of hassles associated with having a bike, though, not the least of which is storage.
Still, it would be better exercise than just walking, and I’m sick of having those smug, spandex-wearing bastards whizzing past me as I slowly plod along, so the idea keeps kicking around in my head.
So I don’t know.
Tomorrow I’ll be going to see X-Men 3: The Last Stand with Scott and Stacy, and that’s pretty much the extent of my plans for the week (beyond my meal plans anyway)
In any case, I hope all of you are having a fine, suitably patriotic Memorial Day.
Sunday, May 28, 2006
Maybe It's Because The Day Is So Long And Boring...
...or maybe we're just retarded, but either way, this clip from MTV's classic sketch comedy series The State damn near killed me and Scott when we watched it today.
I laughed so hard I seriously thought something was going to burst.
Watch the clip and decide for yourselves:
I laughed so hard I seriously thought something was going to burst.
Watch the clip and decide for yourselves:
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