Shortly after I got home yesterday I decided to take a nap. I woke up around 6 and thought, “I’ll give it another hour,” and went back to sleep, waking again, to my dismay, at nearly 8.
It’s not like I would have done anything worthwhile or exciting with the time, but I was annoyed to have slept so late.
Once I got up I gave my brother-in-law Dean a call to see how he’s doing. He seems to be doing okay, though the prospect of being laid up and unable to do anything for an extended period isn’t seeming very attractive to him.
That would appear to be a point on which our thinking differs.
As I was wrapping up the call I realized that I hadn’t eaten anything in over seven hours, I heated up a pizza and sat down and watched an episode of Monk.
After that it was several hours of doing nothing in particular, engaging in some random Web surfing and watching bits and pieces of different Riff Trax movies, as I didn’t really have the patience to sit and watch one in its entirety.
Today I went out and finally got around to getting a haircut, though once again not as short as I would have liked. I didn’t say anything because she had already put gel in my hair – without asking – and slicked it all back before showing me the results, so it wasn’t immediately apparent that it wasn’t short enough.
At least the sides and back are short, though, so I guess I can live with it.
And I can’t complain too much, as the place was pretty deserted, so I didn’t have to wait at all before getting my haircut.
After that I gassed up the car and went grocery shopping. It was exactly as exciting as it sounds.
Now I think I’ll spend my time struggling to stay awake and trying to come up with a reason to struggle.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Friday, September 12, 2008
What Did I Ever Do To John McCain?
John McCain Hates Me (And Possibly YOU):
Now it's possible that he means political bloggers (and, one assumes, Liberal bloggers, but then again, he is a maverick, so he may hate the Conservatives as well), and I don't really blog much about politics, but he doesn't say that.
Just bloggers.
Personally, I think he's jealous of our "cables."
(Found at Crooks and Liars via a post in the comments on Slacktivist.)
Now it's possible that he means political bloggers (and, one assumes, Liberal bloggers, but then again, he is a maverick, so he may hate the Conservatives as well), and I don't really blog much about politics, but he doesn't say that.
Just bloggers.
Personally, I think he's jealous of our "cables."
(Found at Crooks and Liars via a post in the comments on Slacktivist.)
Thursday, September 11, 2008
A Lower Tolerance
So my brother-in-law Dean has had a few other problems beyond the broken collarbone, and ended up having to go into the hospital yesterday.
He’s on his way home tonight, but, without getting into any details, there are some lingering issues, so if anyone wants to throw out some positive energy on his behalf, you’re more than welcome to do so.
Yesterday Scott came over for Riff Trax night, and – by his choice – we watched Battlefield Earth.
With a shitty movie like Batman and Robin, I can understand why and how it could turn out shitty – the people responsible for it had no reverence for the character or concern for the fans. It’s really that simple.
But how could Battlefield Earth, which is, amazingly, much worse than Batman and Robin, turn out so incredibly shitty?
I mean, the movie was produced by and starred John Travolta, a devout Scientologist, and was based on a classic novel by L. Ron Hubbard, the founder of the Church of Scientology.
You would think that a massive effort would have been forth to make sure that it turned out great.
You would think that.
Then again, maybe that was the problem: too much effort was put into it.
Somehow that doesn’t seem like that’s the case, though.
I have a vague recollection of having read the novel at some point in the past, but I’m not sure that I ever did, as I can’t remember anything about it. I did read Hubbard’s multi-volume Mission Earth series, though, and while I wouldn’t classify it as great literature, it certainly had its moments, and was well-written enough that as a result I have to believe that the problems with the movie version of Battlefield were not the result of the source material. At his worst, Hubbard was better than the movie would suggest.
In the Mission Earth books, he wrote in a satirical voice that was meant to recall the works of Jonathan Swift, intending to point out many of the foibles of modern life by describing them in ways that were either the complete opposite of their reality, or describing them in terms that while technically correct painted them in the most ridiculous light possible.
(By way of example, he has someone describe the statue in front of the United Nations depicting someone beating plowshares into swords, when, in fact it depicts the exact opposite.)
There were a lot of scenes in the Battlefield Earth movie that stood out to me as likely candidates for that sort of satirical view, but which were played straight and serious, indicating to me that the people responsible for the movie had clearly missed the point.
Ah well, must have been the thetans that caused the problems, or maybe an early iteration of Anonymous messed with it.
Scott expressed amazement at the fact that I had, in the past, watched the entire movie without the benefit of Riff Trax commentary. I explained that I once had a higher tolerance for shitty movies than I do now.
In any case, not much else is going on, so I suppose I’ll bring this entry to a close.
He’s on his way home tonight, but, without getting into any details, there are some lingering issues, so if anyone wants to throw out some positive energy on his behalf, you’re more than welcome to do so.
Yesterday Scott came over for Riff Trax night, and – by his choice – we watched Battlefield Earth.
With a shitty movie like Batman and Robin, I can understand why and how it could turn out shitty – the people responsible for it had no reverence for the character or concern for the fans. It’s really that simple.
But how could Battlefield Earth, which is, amazingly, much worse than Batman and Robin, turn out so incredibly shitty?
I mean, the movie was produced by and starred John Travolta, a devout Scientologist, and was based on a classic novel by L. Ron Hubbard, the founder of the Church of Scientology.
You would think that a massive effort would have been forth to make sure that it turned out great.
You would think that.
Then again, maybe that was the problem: too much effort was put into it.
Somehow that doesn’t seem like that’s the case, though.
I have a vague recollection of having read the novel at some point in the past, but I’m not sure that I ever did, as I can’t remember anything about it. I did read Hubbard’s multi-volume Mission Earth series, though, and while I wouldn’t classify it as great literature, it certainly had its moments, and was well-written enough that as a result I have to believe that the problems with the movie version of Battlefield were not the result of the source material. At his worst, Hubbard was better than the movie would suggest.
In the Mission Earth books, he wrote in a satirical voice that was meant to recall the works of Jonathan Swift, intending to point out many of the foibles of modern life by describing them in ways that were either the complete opposite of their reality, or describing them in terms that while technically correct painted them in the most ridiculous light possible.
(By way of example, he has someone describe the statue in front of the United Nations depicting someone beating plowshares into swords, when, in fact it depicts the exact opposite.)
There were a lot of scenes in the Battlefield Earth movie that stood out to me as likely candidates for that sort of satirical view, but which were played straight and serious, indicating to me that the people responsible for the movie had clearly missed the point.
Ah well, must have been the thetans that caused the problems, or maybe an early iteration of Anonymous messed with it.
Scott expressed amazement at the fact that I had, in the past, watched the entire movie without the benefit of Riff Trax commentary. I explained that I once had a higher tolerance for shitty movies than I do now.
In any case, not much else is going on, so I suppose I’ll bring this entry to a close.
Tuesday, September 09, 2008
In Dreams
Last night I watched the Riff Trax edition of the movie Dark Water.
The movie itself was incredibly lame, consisting of long sequences of nothing in particular happening, then something happening, then some more nothing, and then being over. Most of the nothing was supposed to be spooky and atmospheric, I guess, but really it was just kind of depressing, and even when the something happened…meh.
I’m sure the original Japanese version presented scenes of nothing happening that were vastly superior.
The only potential the movie had to be interesting stemmed from the fact that Jennifer Connelly was in it, but given that it was PG-13, that meant that there was no chance of her doing anything really interesting.
(If that was too cryptic, I’m saying we never got to see her naked.)
Anyway, John C. Reilly was also in it, and this made possible the best riff of the Riff Trax commentary, when the riffer perfectly described Reilly as being “the love child of Gene Hackman and Elmer Fudd.”
Not much of interest going on today. Last night I recorded the premiere of The Sarah Connor Chronicles, then watched it while The Closer was recording, with the intention of watching The Closer at 10, then going to bed.
Instead I ended up saving The Closer for today and going to bed at 10.
In the course of the night I had an extremely vivid dream in which I met some chick. It was vivid and realistic enough – initially, at least – to have me convinced that it was actually happening, but eventually I started getting enough clues to figure out that it was just a dream. Mostly it was the fact that I was clumsy to an extent that goes beyond even my nearly infinite capacity for clumsiness in the waking world that tipped me off, though I suppose that the fact that I’d met someone who was actually interested in me should have been my first clue.
Whenever I have a dream in which the simple act of putting on my shoes seems to take hours, that’s usually a good indication I’m dreaming, as in real life it only takes me an hour, tops.
In any case, as I’m too lazy to come up with anything else to write about, or to write about any of the hundreds of things it’s occurred to me to blog about in the past, I’ll bring this entry to a close by mentioning that Scott and Stacy learned that they’re having a boy.
The movie itself was incredibly lame, consisting of long sequences of nothing in particular happening, then something happening, then some more nothing, and then being over. Most of the nothing was supposed to be spooky and atmospheric, I guess, but really it was just kind of depressing, and even when the something happened…meh.
I’m sure the original Japanese version presented scenes of nothing happening that were vastly superior.
The only potential the movie had to be interesting stemmed from the fact that Jennifer Connelly was in it, but given that it was PG-13, that meant that there was no chance of her doing anything really interesting.
(If that was too cryptic, I’m saying we never got to see her naked.)
Anyway, John C. Reilly was also in it, and this made possible the best riff of the Riff Trax commentary, when the riffer perfectly described Reilly as being “the love child of Gene Hackman and Elmer Fudd.”
Not much of interest going on today. Last night I recorded the premiere of The Sarah Connor Chronicles, then watched it while The Closer was recording, with the intention of watching The Closer at 10, then going to bed.
Instead I ended up saving The Closer for today and going to bed at 10.
In the course of the night I had an extremely vivid dream in which I met some chick. It was vivid and realistic enough – initially, at least – to have me convinced that it was actually happening, but eventually I started getting enough clues to figure out that it was just a dream. Mostly it was the fact that I was clumsy to an extent that goes beyond even my nearly infinite capacity for clumsiness in the waking world that tipped me off, though I suppose that the fact that I’d met someone who was actually interested in me should have been my first clue.
Whenever I have a dream in which the simple act of putting on my shoes seems to take hours, that’s usually a good indication I’m dreaming, as in real life it only takes me an hour, tops.
In any case, as I’m too lazy to come up with anything else to write about, or to write about any of the hundreds of things it’s occurred to me to blog about in the past, I’ll bring this entry to a close by mentioning that Scott and Stacy learned that they’re having a boy.
Monday, September 08, 2008
Three Point Plan
Three Point Plan For Getting Jon To Stab Himself In The Thumb:
Step 1: Get him to step in some kind of sticky, crusty candy (Just throw it anywhere on the ground; he's bound to step in it. He is Jon, after all.).
Step 2: Wait for him to notice (It'll happen eventually).
Step 3: Sit back and watch as he tries to scrape it off his shoe with his pocket knife and nature takes its course.
Step 1: Get him to step in some kind of sticky, crusty candy (Just throw it anywhere on the ground; he's bound to step in it. He is Jon, after all.).
Step 2: Wait for him to notice (It'll happen eventually).
Step 3: Sit back and watch as he tries to scrape it off his shoe with his pocket knife and nature takes its course.
Sunday, September 07, 2008
Next Time, Stay Off The Horse
My brother-in-law Dean is a “get back on the horse that threw you” kind of guy, but in this case, the “horse” is a motorcycle, and it threw him once again.
A while back he got in a wreck when someone hit him. This time around he got in a wreck trying to avoid hitting a deer.
Except for a broken collarbone, he’s okay, but I hope you’ll all join me in wishing him a speedy recovery, and in hoping that he’ll reconsider the whole “get back on” thing.
The wind and rain finally let up sometime yesterday afternoon, so I did end up going to Scott and Stacy’s place for dinner and a movie. I can’t help but wish that they’d move someplace closer, though, so I wouldn’t have to haul this man’s ass down to Man Asses (Manassas) when I decide that I’m not going to be anti-social.
Of the various Riff Trax movies I’ve downloaded, Scott had stated that he didn’t want to watch Batman and Robin, having avoided seeing that horrible franchise-killing piece of dreck throughout the years.
Until last night, at least, as that’s what I made him suffer through. That’ll learn ’im to make a friendly gesture and invite me over!
(When I made the DVD, I titled it “Suck It!”)
Apart from getting the news about Dean, today was pretty uneventful. Did the laundry, gassed up the car (which I should have done while I was in Manassas last night, as it was thirty cents cheaper), and picked up some groceries.
Apparently The Universe decided – mistakenly – that my dislike for the greater mass of humanity was at a low ebb, and used my visit to Super Target today to bring the level up a bit.
Having to navigate the obstacle course of children running loose like drunken spider monkeys, old people who needed to stop and rest in the middle of the aisles with their carts turned sideways, and women parking their fully-laden carts in front of everything I needed to get to while they chatted away on their cell phones was all bad enough, but the last straw was the jackass in front of me in line, who decided that when he was done paying he would just take his things and go, leaving his cart behind.
He had to stop to get a bag of ice from the freezer against the wall on his way out, but didn’t seem to notice when I said, “Oh, for - ! “ and shoved his cart hurtling forward, causing it to rebound off the wall next to the freezer and nearly hit him.
At least the cashier noticed and was a little freaked out. Then again, I suppose that wasn’t really a good thing, though it did make her extremely apologetic when the credit card machine messed up and I had to run my card through it again.
Suffice to say that the drive home didn’t improve my mood at all.
In any case, my weekend of thwarted reclusiveness is drawing to a close, and so is this entry.
(And for the record, I actually did appreciate the invite from Scott and Stacy, as well as the Chinese food, but really, Scott needed to suffer through that hideous cinematic mess of shitty dialogue, hammy overacting, Scooby-Doo sound effects, and rubber nipples.)
A while back he got in a wreck when someone hit him. This time around he got in a wreck trying to avoid hitting a deer.
Except for a broken collarbone, he’s okay, but I hope you’ll all join me in wishing him a speedy recovery, and in hoping that he’ll reconsider the whole “get back on” thing.
The wind and rain finally let up sometime yesterday afternoon, so I did end up going to Scott and Stacy’s place for dinner and a movie. I can’t help but wish that they’d move someplace closer, though, so I wouldn’t have to haul this man’s ass down to Man Asses (Manassas) when I decide that I’m not going to be anti-social.
Of the various Riff Trax movies I’ve downloaded, Scott had stated that he didn’t want to watch Batman and Robin, having avoided seeing that horrible franchise-killing piece of dreck throughout the years.
Until last night, at least, as that’s what I made him suffer through. That’ll learn ’im to make a friendly gesture and invite me over!
(When I made the DVD, I titled it “Suck It!”)
Apart from getting the news about Dean, today was pretty uneventful. Did the laundry, gassed up the car (which I should have done while I was in Manassas last night, as it was thirty cents cheaper), and picked up some groceries.
Apparently The Universe decided – mistakenly – that my dislike for the greater mass of humanity was at a low ebb, and used my visit to Super Target today to bring the level up a bit.
Having to navigate the obstacle course of children running loose like drunken spider monkeys, old people who needed to stop and rest in the middle of the aisles with their carts turned sideways, and women parking their fully-laden carts in front of everything I needed to get to while they chatted away on their cell phones was all bad enough, but the last straw was the jackass in front of me in line, who decided that when he was done paying he would just take his things and go, leaving his cart behind.
He had to stop to get a bag of ice from the freezer against the wall on his way out, but didn’t seem to notice when I said, “Oh, for - ! “ and shoved his cart hurtling forward, causing it to rebound off the wall next to the freezer and nearly hit him.
At least the cashier noticed and was a little freaked out. Then again, I suppose that wasn’t really a good thing, though it did make her extremely apologetic when the credit card machine messed up and I had to run my card through it again.
Suffice to say that the drive home didn’t improve my mood at all.
In any case, my weekend of thwarted reclusiveness is drawing to a close, and so is this entry.
(And for the record, I actually did appreciate the invite from Scott and Stacy, as well as the Chinese food, but really, Scott needed to suffer through that hideous cinematic mess of shitty dialogue, hammy overacting, Scooby-Doo sound effects, and rubber nipples.)
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