Video: Show us some great animation.
All right. so I'm submitting to the Vox Hunt today. So sue me. I couldn't find that Simpsons clip of Lisa hopped up on nitrous at the dentist office. But the reference is provided instead. Here's a poll as well: Who is more annoying: Jeremy Hillary Boob, Ph.D. or Jar Jar Binks? I give the slight edge to Jeremy.
I've created an agenda for each work day I have off during the next 1+ weeks. Yesterday, I accomplished the simple task of hooking up my new printer to the computer. Today was a shopping day for armaments. And the battlefield is my entire apartment. Each room will get a make-over of immense proportions next week. Oh, and the car needs some attention too.
Since the temperature was in the low 50s today, I decided to start working off the calories I scarfed down over the holidays. It only took about 1 1/2 miles before my body decided to shut down. "Well fuck you, body." You're going back out tomorrow and it's going to be 2 miles! By the end of next week, we'll be working our way up to 4 or 5 miles! After waking up and looking towards the mirror, I turned to the side and to my horror, it looked like Cap'n Jr. was inside me. Sorry, Cap'n Jr., but there's no room for you here. At this time, my hamstrings, quads, and shins are pissed off. Well, let them necrose for all I care!! Ok, maybe that's not a smart thing to say. After all, paralysis can't be fun.
Music Thru the Northeast Corridor:
BM: "If you have to set up a big-screen TV and show the Daytona 500 to get people into your church, as one church in Fredericksburg, Virginia, does, then your flock is not worshipping Jesus; they're worshipping Dale Earnhardt Jr. And there's a difference: One is the son of a god, and the other died on a cross for your sins."
And it feels so good to be back home. Maine certainly has its charms, but any vacation longer than 5 days in that area gets boring. So much to talk about, indeed. But first, I need to get caught up on all my neighbors' and friends' blog entries. I will provide a detailed summary later on in the week since time is finally on my side.
Reporting from the upper reaches of the United States, the Cap'n is doing swell with the rest of the family. As I told you before, the presents become less and less of a necessity for me. Well, the receiving anyway. The giving is another story. I must have spent a good hour cussing silently while tearing holes in wrapping paper and taping my fingers together. One thing you won't see me competing in: The International Gift-Wrapping Classic on ESPN8.
The ride up from Pennsylvania to Maine is something I have done on many occasions. And I always find myself traversing new routes to get from there to here and here to there. Yesterday was no different, as the snobbish Westchester/Bridgeport/Yonkers crowd likes to also invade the extreme Northeast Corridor for New England (say it right, Frenchy!!) chow-dah. And the bottleneck occurs at the Connecticut-Massachusetts border where there's only one way onto the next highway, and vice versa.
I'm surprised I made it up here in one piece considering the amount of fermented grapes I put away the previous night. Btw, Mariser, that (Argentinian) malbec was exquisite. Better than that Yellow Tail crap that has suddenly become en vogue. What's up with that? Throw in some more gambling at the poker table and I had a challenge on my hands. However, it was smooth sailing.
Tis the season to be jolly, people. I'm giving out presents to all my faithful readers and commenters. It's because of you (ok, maybe me) that this blog survives. So without further ado, here are your handouts:
Hot Rod
Dabysan
Cala Verde
Doc Paradox
Two delicacies from your home away from home.
Jodi
Grumble Bunny
K Spot
Emma Peel
In no way do I mind your present blog picture of Diana Rigg in a skin tight black suit (MEOW), but this one speaks more volumes.
To anybody else I possible forgot, send me a wish list and I will gladly oblige.
Music for the Day:
BM: "One of the guy networks like ESPN has to broadcast an old-school version of the Olympics that leaves out all the 'Hallmark moments' and just shows sports.
Adolf Hitler once used the Olympics to demonstrate that Aryans were strong; NBC uses them to show the world that Americans like to cry a lot. Look, I understand that everything nowadays has to be rendered bloated, syrupy, dumbed down, and sentimental - this is America, after all. But for those of you out there who may be too young to remember a time before Oprah ruined everything: In the old days when we watched the Olympics, it wasn't continuous sob-sister profiles interrupted by the occasional sporting event - it was just the events. There was none of this stuff about the heartbreak and pain it took to become the best damn kayaker a man can be. It was enough just to watch a man throw a long stick or a big iron ball. His mom's chemotherapy, his sister's glass eye, and his dog, a wounded combat vet - they never entered into it. We weren't told whose grandpa was paralyzed in a tractor accident or that the decathlon guy has a cleft palate and overcame a lifetime of bed-wetting to go for the gold, because if someone had told us that, we would have said, 'Hey, if I wanted to sit through hours of melodramatic personal backstory, I'd pay attention to my date.'
Take Nancy Pitts of the US women's wrestling team. Two years ago, the unthinkable happened to Nancy - she was diagnosed with prostate cancer. Happily, it was caught in time, and she was able to go back to her usual training regimen: 3 hours of weight lifting, followed by an hour of shaving.
Somehow the press now gives the Olympics the sort of coverage once reserved for a war, though actual wars are treated like sporting events. NBC aired 1,200 hours of Olympic coverage, 400 times more than they gave the Democratic convention, but what the heck, that was just about war and peace in the nuclear age - the Olympics are about swimming. Oh, if only they were! If only we could get the swimming without the three-hankie immigrant parents, the latchkey kids, the single moms, and all the brave athletes who rose before dawn and traveled hours in the frosty silence of the Iowa winter just to meet their drug dealers.
The Olympic Games are that rarest of events, a coalition of a great variety of nations coming together for a purpose other than killing Iraqis. So please, media barons, just give us one channel where it's simply about the competition and the belief that how high a man can hop is also a measure of who has the best country.
And this way you can keep the focus-group-approved drivel disguised as in-depth analysis where it belongs: in the coverage of presidential elections.
Suddenly, I'm as sick as well...sick. This usually doesn't happen too often with me. But for today, I'll keep it short and sweet and ask my loyal readers (and haters?) to chime in.
At this time each year, my supervisor, associate, and I exchange small gifts. I still didn't have anything for The Super when I woke up this morning. Since he and I have a connection as far as musical tastes go, I copied a few albums that I thought he could use in his library.
The fact that he didn't own Graceland was a crime unto itself. I thought The Best of Procol Harum was a safe bet. And why did I choose A.M.? Well, sometimes he can be a bit of a fossil when it comes to music. The other day he commented how there really isn't much out there in the present. So I felt it was my job to ease him into these contemporary times with an album that is not heavily layered with noise, studio effects, etc., but rather plain and simple. If I had instead, copied Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, I'm not sure if he would have given it much of a chance.
In return, The Super gave me a bottle of a malbec wine called Kaiken Ultra. I've never tasted a malbec, or know, what a malbec tastes like. So I ask the connisseurs out there, what do you know about malbecs? Sweet? Bitter? Light-body? Full-body?
Music for the Day:
BM: "No puppet fucking. The movie Team America features graphic sex scenes between marionettes. If I had any interest in wooden sex with strings attached, I'd get married."
Heeding the assignment of K Spot and the words of Emeril, this blog post will "kick it up a notch." I present to you: Banned Commercials in the USA.
Obviously, the Catholic Church had something to do with preventing this one from seeing the light of day here. Please people, this is educational!
Music for the Day:
BM: "Homeless shelters don't need gyms. Los Angeles just opened a new homeless shelter with a library, hair salon, and gym. Now, I'm fine with the library and the hair salon - like most people, I like my crack whores well read and groomed - but a gym? If you're pushing a loaded shopping cart around all day, you don't need a StairMaster. I know gay guys who became homeless just for the abs."
15 years ago, it used to be the exchange of presents was the top reason why I loved this time of year. Fast forward to the present and it ranks dead last. The nutso-taken to another level-overdone advertising that comes along with Christmas shopping just sucks the life out of me. I would be just as happy not receiving any presents at all this year. I know that can never be the case. But my mom had the right idea in telling everybody that stocking stuffers are the only option. No $4000 78" plasma TVs with DLP, HDTV, and whatever acronyms that come with. Go Mom!
What I enjoy most now is spending time with extended family members and lots & lots of alcohol consumption. Oh, almost forgot. I'm taking two weeks off in succession, beginning next Monday, to get a lot of stuff done. There's another reason to enjoy the holidays. That will include finishing up some reports that I just can't get done at my desk. Add to that some badly needed housework, rotating my car tires, and those 2 weeks may pass by sooner than I think.
Music for the Day:
Yesterday can be classified as a bittersweet one. I got a much-need workout from helping move some newlywed friends of mine from a decent-sized apartment to a larger townhouse (although this complex resembles more of a condo setting). Yah, I'm just a bit jealous since I'll never be able to afford that kind of property. Then again, since I'm on a one-income salary for life, I shouldn't be jealous. That's how life is, I guess.
The moving out was much more difficult than moving in. 7 or 8 men lowering large appliances and furniture down two stories is quite an experience. Although, I had no part in the pulley operation up top since I would've been dragged over ten-fold. That took about 3 hours to execute. In contrast, the moving in only took around 90 minutes since we had slightly more help. Beer also helps when it comes to moving by removing physical pain, albeit for a short time.
When I got home, I was sore as all hell. I'm still suffering from intense neck pain as I type. The icy hot worked for short period of time last night, but it's back. Add a little numbness in the forearm + groin issues and I'm just peachy right now. This work week better fly by, or else.
Music for the Weekend:
BM: "When the penis-enlargement pills you bought fail to enlarge your penis, don't file a lawsuit. Yes, I'm talking to you, Michael Coluzzi of Burlington, New Jersey. You see, Michael Coluzzi, lawsuits are in the public record and now everyone in Burlington knows you, Michael Coluzzi, have a shameful secret."
Ugh. Update time. As in, the asshole who bid $155,401 for VU & Nico confessed that he's a dead-beat. I know EBay says they cannot prevent this abuse, which is true. But, the least they can do is revoke this low-life's EBay account, permanently. Jerk-ass. I need a Samuel Jackson beer to calm me down.
Music for the Day:
BM: "News organizations have to stop using the phrase 'We go beyond the headlines.' That's your job, dummy. You don't see American Airlines saying 'We land our jets on the runway'!"
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Vox Fantasy Football Updated: Oct 9, 2009
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