Thursday, August 27, 2009

You wanna die by post-its? Because I can make that happen.

Get Smart

Originally, Mike really wanted to see this. Then, Steve Carrell pissed him off somehow, and he didn't want to see it. I ran across it at the library and figured I'd bring it home. It was surprisingly good.

The original Get Smart was arguably brilliant. But it was too much for me. I cringe at repeated idiocy. This was FAR more subtle believe it or not, and yet still slap-stick funny. Alan Arkin and Dwayne Johnson (yeah, that's The Rock in his former life) were terrific supporting characters and the stapler scene? We had to rewind to watch it again.

I think the most fun was the interaction between the desk-jockey analysts and the entirely-too-egotistical field agents. One of those field agents made this threat. You know, it's your basic geek vs. jock struggle. The geeks win, even when they lose.

All in all, very enjoyable for a free movie. We also watched The Chumscrubber. I can't say the same for it. I'm not sure WHAT I can say for it.

BONUS: this makes 5 updates in one week. FIVE. I don't know I had that much to pontificate spew forth on share with folks. Blame Miss Bittycrazy.

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Moronic Inferno

The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Diaz

Keeping with the theme from Monday, I give you the last of my quotes from Oscar Wao. He used this phrase to describe junior high. I have NO idea what he means, really. Junior high was an especially bucolic and productive point in my life. Dropping your bright pink gym shorts on the guy who had the locker under you who just HAPPENED to be the guy you had a secret crush on? Never happened to me. Wearing a pink sundress with my COOL brand new zip-on kangaroo tennies (the ones that are SO cool, I can't even find a picture of them on Google)? Dunno what you're talking about. Being quizzed by the queen bitch on why I was wearing blue eye shadow and a green shirt (um, there's more than one color of eye shadow??)? Nope, not me. Spending the night at a friend's house and stealing the world's ugliest plant because we couldn't figure out how to steal a street sign? *shrug*

Pryor Junior High School wasn't all bad. At least I was a band fag instead of a football player. Record while I was in band (and thus required to attend all football games)? 1-7 in 8th grade, 0-8 in 9th. Come to think of it, they might have been better off if I'd played football instead. I got to be in gifted Biology with the ever-talented Mr. Williams. The man could deliver an entire lecture without ever dislodging the ball of spit that sat in the corner of his mouth. And me? Advanced placement me who actually took my 9th grade math class at the high school? I got a GREAT award at the end of the year. Turns out I made not only the highest grade of the year, but one of the highest grades EVER. In Home Economics. I bet my name is STILL on a plaque in the library.

Moronic inferno indeed.

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

You're the best kind of bad juju

Ittybittycrazy is someone I "met" on a social mailing list I've been on for years. One day she pointed me to her blog, she stumbled across mine. The connection was OBVIOUS, and we soon made plans to meet in person. Of course, that took forever between her buzzing social life and my various and sundry malaise. We've managed to have lunch twice now.

The first time was lovely. But later that day, I finally noticed that I was having heart palpitations and was sent off to the ER by my lovely GP. It turns out I didn't blog about my heart palpitations, for as Ms. Bittycrazy will tell you, I SUCK at updating my blog these days. Oh, and it was a perfectly lovely and out in under 2 hours after they'd monitored my heart and found some extra beats, but nothing dangerous. NOTHING. I held neither the heart palpitations nor the loveliness of the Swedish Cherry Hill ED against my new friend.

Anyway, we had lunch again yesterday. A lovely time was had by all, followed by an incredibly silly walk around the neighborhood trying to find my car. Last night, I cooked up some CHEAPASS tuna I got from Whole Paycheck over the weekend (fresh off the truck for $2.99/lb for the whole fish). I sauteed it on one side, carefully turned it over and stuck it in a 450 degree oven for a few minutes. MAGNIFICENT.

I REMEMBERED to use a potholder to remove the pan from the oven. Not a given for those of you who know me. Went about my business and about two minutes later, pick the pan up. With no potholder. Turns out the handle was still OHMYUNHOLYFREAKINGHELLALMIGHTY hot. Immediately run my hand under cold water, followed by holding on to ice for the next two hours. First degree burns, so somewhat painful, but nothing like it could have been.

Mike and I trekked out to find Spenco 2nd Skin Moist Burn Pads, which it would seem are now kept behind the counter at Bartell because I think they're saturated with narcotics they feel SO good. Came home and it only took two or three tries for mom and I to get the damn burn covered. At some point my mom said something about me reading the directions. I pointed out that I didn't need to RTFM. I've used these things so damned many times I know the FM by heart. Then I think I went off on something about R-ing the FM, but I stopped then.

I realized after my hand is wrapped in an ace bandage (because the 6 feet of tape only cut off my circulation and didn't actually keep the gel in contact with my burned hand), that this is all her fault. Has to be. It's not like I hurt myself when she's not around or anything. Damn it, Bert get off the effing floor.

Anyway, feel fine today. Not even tender. Those burn pads are miracles, but remember to give the secret code word to the pharmacist. Ittybittycrazy may be my newest friend, but at this rate, she'll be the last new one I ever have!!

Aw honey, did your butt scare you?

Trying to comfort Lily

Yes, I'm a dog person. Well, specifically, I'm a small dog person, which makes me FAR less of a person in some eyes. And I understand those eyes, because they used to be mine. I don't know that I could be a big dog person for a few reasons. One, they drool. Big dogs drool. It's not their fault. If I had a tongue that big hanging out the side of my mouth as my only means of cooling, I'm sure I'd drool like that, too. The fact remains, there are few things on earth that gross me out more quickly.

Second? Big dogs smell like dogs. I'm not saying my dogs don't smell, but they have to REALLY need a bath for me to even notice when they're curled up in my lap. It helps that mine are not only TINY but also the shortest of short-haired, so there's not a lot of places for the stench to hide. Dogs are hard to keep clean, I know. And I'm sure I'd be entirely too lazy to keep a big dog clean and thus un-stanky. Thus, no big dog.

Anyway, my crazy, high maintenance, yappy little Italian Greyhound, Lily, is...well? She's very intelligent but...she's a drama queen, which you would think would make her my favorite, but let's face it, I hate the competition. I'm at least a self-aware drama queen. What's really funny is that even though she's a year and a half old, and hasn't grown since she was probably 10 months old, she still doesn't exactly know where all parts of her doggie-self are at any given time. Iggies (shorthand for Italian Greyhound) have amazingly long legs. So my 10-pound dog is as tall as your standard 30-pound mutt. She doesn't seem to keep track of them very well. She's always doing stupid things like sticking them under my feet when they're about to hit the ground. I KEEP telling her "paw vs. shoe"? Shoe ALWAYS wins. She's a slow learner.

She also does this bizarre thing once or twice a day which can ONLY be described as Lily Freak-out. Without seeing it (I should record it for YouTube) all I can say is that it's as if she's gearing up to do the dead cockroach. She heads for the couch and attacks the part where the back and the seat join. And she rolls. And rolls. And bites. And jumps. It's truly hysterical. And it's not just one couch. Any couch she's on when the mood strikes.

Anyway, Lily's butt has stalked her a few times. More precisely, she's had a klingon or two and they scare the unholy bejeebers out of her. She runs around yelping with her tail tucked under her. I shouldn't laugh, but it's funny as hell. That isn't what elicited this particular comment. She just jumped away from her butt. Yeah, that's what I said. Maybe it was post-traumatic klingon syndrome??

Monday, August 24, 2009

We've had reports of aggravated stupidity

Nuclear Jellyfish by Tim Dorsey

Dude, I suck at updating lately. Trying to get my mojo back in many aspects of life, so let me start here.

Yes, Serge A. Storms is back in Tim Dorsey's latest romp through Florida. Think Carl Hiassen on a speed ball followed by a week of Crystal Meth. Maybe Carl Hiassen just on a speed ball. Elmore Leonard would need the week of Crystal Meth.

I'm listening to it on audio, and I'm only about half-way through the first disk, and there's already been death by sprinkler system of two Neonazi's who were beating up bums under a bridge in Jacksonville. Serge may be a serial killer, but he only kills the scum of society.

Not that I have EVER experienced aggravated stupidity. Never. It just doesn't happen. I love ALL people, even their flaws. Come on Bert, up off the floor. You don't know where it's been. And I don't appreciate your implication. Oh, who am I kidding? I've got the patience of a fruit fly in heat when it comes to stupidity, inefficiency, intentional ignoramusness and general dickheadedness.

Anyway, here's to less aggravated stupidity and more Serge A. Storms in this world.

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Looks like an H2IK Sequence

Defying Gravity

As I'm sure you all know, Hubby is NOT allowed to add any more shows to OUR TV lineup. If there's something new he wants to watch, I either watch it in the background while playing CivIV or he watches it during slow times at work on his Zune. I said I wanted to watch this after seeing previews. I still blame him, but I can see the skepticism in your beady little eyes.

We desperately want to like this show. But after the pilot episode, it didn't look promising. It keeps jumping back and forth between 10-years-ago, 5-years-ago and present time (which is in an undetermined future). There's a mysterious force pushing them to explore the solar system. Apparently, abortion is illegal, but they don't go into why at all. There's your basic soap opera plot line with a ship captain who is married to the project director (who is stuck back on earth), ex-lovers stuck together on the ship, and a crew-member's husband mysteriously developing heart problems hours before the main launch causing him to be stuck on earth.

Anyway, last night (the 3rd episode) offered the first real laughs of the series. After REALLY pissing off the instructor in class, one of the student astronauts goes up to said instructor and explains that when he was a contractor designing part of the ship, the bosses expected them to know everything whenever asked. He and his coworkers came up with a code called "H2IK" which stands for "Hell if I Know".

It comes up later in the show when said engineer (who is now stuck on the ground with the project's two directors really screwing with his life) reviewing the problem with ship having no power and says to his former instructor "It looks like an H2IK Sequence". Obviously no one else knows what this means, but in code? "You're screwed."

Anyway, in true Captain Montgomery Scott fashion, he pulls it out in the end figuring out that some asshat left a wrench in the power drive causing much chaos.

We've decided we'll watch the next couple of episodes based on the small gleam of humor offered in this episode. And I plan to use the phrase H2IK from here on out.

Monday, August 10, 2009

ADOS: Attention Defecit OOH! SHINY!

"Flair" given to my cousin on Facebook

Just to show you how aptly this describes me? I changed my Instant Messenger name and picture and forgot to update my blog for a good 30 minutes while I went from place to place on Facebook. You know, Facebook? That unholy time suck?

Anyway, speaking of shiny, I need to take my new shoes to the cobbler tomorrow in order to have the left toe stretched. In addition to providing me with highly expensive, extremely uncomfortable new orthotics, my new podiatrist told me that my left little toe has an enlargement on the bone. He told me in a most matter-of-fact manner that I have two choices: make the shoes bigger or the toe smaller. Apparently, making the toe smaller isn't a simple matter of soaking in Epsom salts or something. Nope, it involves SURGICAL SHAVING OF THE BONE. He DID tell me that any good cobbler could stretch my cute shoes with no problem so that there is absolutely no rubbing. Good podiatrist and sensible. Could it be MORE obvious that a petite flower such as myself would never give up her cute shoes entirely??

UPDATE: Chris, my local grammarian, editor and all things OCD has pointed out that I spelled "Defecit" wrong. Apparently, it's "Deficit". He accepts not my excuse that the button was spelled wrong. He also hates that I use the old-fashioned typing rule of two spaces after a period. Every time he is forced to proof something of mine, he does an immediate search and replace. I think he's given up chastising me for it.

I'm honestly a pretty good speller. But the arcane rules trip me up. Because they're not really rules...they seem to apply 50% of the time, which makes them suggestions in my book. At least I still pronounce it "NEW-CLEE-ER"...Uncle Sandy pounded that into my head at an early age.

Flab that won't go away no matter how much I yell at it

Rosie Dunne by Cecila Ahern

Adding to Itty Bitty Crazy's delusion that I read a lot, I bring you another quote from the book I'm currently listening to. It's an amusing book set in Ireland...Girl Meets Boy, Girl is "just friends" with boy for most of her life, Boy moves to Boston, much heartbreak ensues...mostly brain candy.

Honestly, I don't feel like I "read" nearly as much as I used to. I don't commute nearly as much anymore, so my audio book consumption has plummeted over the last 18 months. And I'm far more likely to do Merl Reagle's Sunday Crossword in bed before I fall asleep. The New York Times Crossword? All I have to say is that Will Shortz is Satan.

I try to read. I still don't go in much for "important" works or hefty works or really much that makes me think. I go for entertainment. Occasionally, I find something that makes me go "hrmmm...".

My arm is much better, thanks. I did try to amputate my thumb again last night. It's been years...since at least 1997. I did quite a poor job at it, thankfully. I'm getting soft in my old age.

Friday, August 07, 2009

Maybe typing on my blackberry while walking up the stairs isn't such a good idea

The thought Debi had right before falling up the stairs

Yeah, I'm a moronic klutz. My hubby called while I was having lunch with Chris in a VERY noisy pancake house. When Chris dropped me off, I decided to call him back. Multi-tasker that I am, I didn't wait the 45 seconds to get to my desk. No, I started to type in my Blackberry password while walking up the stone stairs and apparently changing my sunglasses in for my regular ones (as evidenced by their position on the ground when I hit it). As I started to climb the stairs, I thought "You know, texting and walking up stairs could be bad." Sure enough, when I'm right? I'M RIGHT. I wasn't EXACTLY texting. I was trying to hit 6 little buttons in a row.

Anyway, I missed the top stair on the flight (as in I didn't realize I wasn't at the top) and there she goes. I only tripped UP the stairs, which is far better than the alternative, trust me. Stubbed my toe, tiny abrasion on my knee and hand, but I bent back my fingers on my right hand when I caught myself. And it all hurt VERY much.

A true and compassionate friend had this to say to me on IM:
Telling people you fell up a flight of stairs is pretty embarrassing, so when someone just asked me what happened to you, I told them you sprained your wrist while masturbating. You're welcome.

I spent a great deal of yesterday afternoon icing my hand, my forearm and my shoulder. I feel better now, so it's all good. But just so you know? I'm a klutz with very poor judgment.

Wednesday, August 05, 2009

Heavier than bad luck and twice as ugly

The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Diaz

I just finished this book. I'm still not entirely sure how I feel about it, but it was very well written. I just found out it won a Pulitzer and a few other prizes on the authors website. Cool.

It was a very unique book, told from several different points of view. The main character isn't just every-nerd, though every nerd out there could identify with him. It was about super-nerd. The guy that failed at everything that he thought was important to him. The stories of the Dominican Republic were vivid, and I found myself wincing at the violence of life there.

Worth reading and I'm glad I did. Perhaps I'll know later what I think...maybe the best books make you wonder about that for a while.

Monday, August 03, 2009


In the Wikipedia entry on Kleptocracy

I am currently listening to The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao and one of the main themes is the ruling of the Dominican Republic by Rafael Leonidas Trujillo Molina. Trujillo was the dictator (though not necessarily president) from 1930 - 1961. At one point, the author describes the regime as a kleptocracy.

Not entirely sure what that meant, I googled it on my crackberry. It took me to the wiki page referenced above. Basically, it's a pejorative term which refers to the rulers as "thieves". Embezzling from their people to fund their own lifestyles. Ok, make sense.

Then I scroll down and see the entry "Narcokleptocracy". At first, I think I misunderstood it to say "Necrokelptocracy" so I thought maybe it was the dead stealing from the public? Then I realized it was "Narco" and thought, um...they try to embezzle from the country and fall asleep?

No, it would seem that it was a phrase coined to describe Manuel Noriega, who was never reported to have suffered from narcolepsy. It means a government of thieves involved in drug trafficking.

Now, I have a bit of an issue with this. The narcotics trade may be a scourge and it may have its corruption, but it IS a trade. It's a business. It's not about stealing, it's about buying and selling a product. It's a complicated issue, but it's pretty classic supply/demand thing. So, my only point is that one can have a kleptocracy and one can have the narcotics trade, but they seem kind of complimentary, not really parts of the same political theory. That's all I'm saying.

For browsing, there is a lot of interesting reading on the Forms of Government of Wikipedia. It's a time suck if you like that sort of thing.