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.

TV Is Devouring My Not-So Precious Time

I don’t understand how I can climb into bed utterly exhausted because I didn’t get enough sleep on the previous night and end up tossing and turning and getting even less sleep.
Well, I suppose the fact that I’m Jon is sufficient explanation.
I like the original Sci-Fi Channel series Eureka. In fact, before I finally got into Battlestar Galactica, it had been the only thing I watched on Sci-Fi.
This fact would, presumably, lead some to wonder why it was that when I was reminded by an ad on IMDb that season three starts tonight I would exclaim, “Goddammit!”Of course the explanation for this is that it’s yet another hour of my time that will be eaten up by watching TV, and with last night’s recorded episodes of The Closer (which was, as always, excellent; if you’re not watching this show, you should be), The Daily Show, and The Colbert Report, as well as the 7:00 episode of The Simpsons, I’ve already used up two and a half hours watching TV.
I guess I just have to content myself with the realization that it’s not as though I would do anything worthwhile with the time.

I Get Phone Calls? Department:
Saturday night, while watching TV (of course), I got a phone call, which is, as most of you know, unusual.
What made it even more unusual was that it was a recorded message – that isn’t the unusual part; most of the calls I get are recorded messages trying to sell something or other – from Pastor something or other of the “Hurricane Church.” First time I’ve ever gotten a call from someone shilling a church.
At least, I’m assuming that was what the recording was shilling; I hung up as soon as I heard the ending “ch” on “Church.”
Sunday night I was sitting at the computer when my phone rang. This time it was an actual person, in this case a woman. A woman who was chewing some food as she said, “Hey, is crunch crunch there?”
To which I responded, “I’m sorry, who?”
This netted me a sarcastic response of, “Your wife?” (It was preceded by that condescending “god-you’re-so-stupid” tongue clicking sound that chicks make when they want to make it clear that they think you’re a complete idiot and are, in every way, beneath contempt.)
“I don’t have one of those.”
“Oh, sorry I must have the wrong crunch crunch.”
Yesterday evening my phone rang once, then went silent. The call duration wasn’t even sufficient for my Caller ID to register the fact that I’d gotten a call.
A half an hour later it rang again.
When I answered, a young woman said, “Hello, my name is Allison, and I’m calling for [some survey company]. Let me assure you that this is not – ”
I said, “Let me assure you that I’m not going to listen.”
Well, I didn’t say it so much as I just hung up on her.
Earlier this evening my mother called, making it four nights in a row that I got a phone call. This may be a new record.

Today’s Popsicle Stick Wisdom:
I had two Popsicles earlier this evening, and the riddles on the sticks served as a reminder of the fact that the simplest solutions are often the most elegant. To wit:

What time is it when you’re out of ice cream? Time to get more ice cream.
What did the bug say when someone stepped on it? Nothing. Bugs can’t talk.

This is a noble truth that we forget all too often as we struggle with the complex issues that we face every day, and it serves to demonstrate the fact that Popsicles are the answer to all of life’s questions.

The Closer Is Getting Closer

Not much of note happened today.
I went to work, I came home, I ate dinner.
However, the new season of The Closer starts tonight, so I'm looking forward to that.
Tomorrow I have a meeting that's scheduled for pretty much the whole day.
More to the point, it's my meeting, so I actually have to do something besides simply show up.
Whee!
I might make some adjustments to the Heroic Portraits site, like make the main page more viewable on smaller screens, and add in a picture that I forgot to include in the Gallery.

If Only New Episodes Of The Closer Were Closer

Barring any last-minute reprieve before I make the drive to Tyson’s Corner tomorrow morning, it looks as though I’ll definitely be accepting the job I don’t want. I’m still hopeful that I’ll get a call about the job I do want and will be able to say “Sorry, but I’m out of here” and bail on the job I don’t want.
Even though I’ve been bored shitless and haven’t done anything productive with my time, I have to say that the prospect of bringing my two month “vacation” to an end is sort of bothersome, and even though I’ve been concerned about how I’ll manage to pay bills and that sort of thing, I’d hoped that I’d be able to extend it at least a little longer.
Oh well.
On Tuesday I go to the eye doctor to get my first pair of Gentle Molding lenses. I guess I have to sit there with them in – and my eyes closed – for an hour to try them out. Should be a blast.
I’m eager to see how well they’ll work, as it will be an incredible change to be able to see clearly without wearing glasses or contacts.

Giving Us A Taste Department:
If you were to take Batman and strip him of his tragic origin, the whole “bat” motif, his incredible wealth, all of his gadgets, his fighting skills, and transform him into a dainty southern belle, you would have one of two things.
One of them would be the central concept for some surreal Grant Morrison comic that, while interesting and cool as hell, would make absolutely no sense whatsoever for the first seven or so issues before finally pulling together in such a way that you say, “Oh, I get it!” and which you would really enjoy, but afterwards you would find yourself wondering if you really did get it and appreciate it fully because you’re just not smart enough/taking the right drugs to be able to appreciate Morrison’s genius properly.
The alternative result of this speculative paring down of Batman is the character of Deputy Chief Brenda Johnson (Kyra Sedgwick) of TNT’s original series The Closer.
Last Monday, as has apparently become an annual tradition, TNT gave Closer fans like me (and my mom) a Christmas present in the form of a special two-hour episode. The episode was awesome, as all of them are, and was much-appreciated, given that the it’s been months since we last had a new episode.
The downside is that it will be months and months before we get to see another, as new episodes only run in the summer.
I can appreciate that the producers take a quality over quantity approach, but I still think it would be cool if they peppered the year with a couple more special episodes.