the Toby Keith

So my friends Joe G. and Mark C. were in town over Christmas and we went to IHOP for brunch on Sunday.

We attempted to pull off the hetero handshakes/hugs (successfully, I think) and then were seated by the indifferent staff.

We were doing the catching up thing when our waitress interupted us and told us the special of the day was the Mile High omelet.

After she left I wondered aloud that if one of us ordered the special, would that person be required to have sex with her in the bathroom? For only $9.99? What a steal!

Mark was looking through his menu and he asked what the Stuffed French Toast was stuffed with. I said 'gravy' as Joe said 'a T-bone'. We decided that it would indeed be awesome if it was filled with these things. Joe decided that it would be called The Toby Keith. Perfect.

We discussed various movies and pop culture things then we received some of the worst food we could have found in a tri-county area. Bleck. Next time ya'll come to visit I'm going to take you to Los Adelbertos instead. The Meats of Dubious Origins breakfast burrito would have to be better than the swill we had at the IHOP.

Thanks for coming to visit fellas. I had a wonderful time in spite of the bad food and not having sex with our waitress.

I'm out.

...the horror...

For some unknown reason I am feeling quite anxious about the upcoming year.

No, that's not exactly right. I'm feeling anxious about a new year.

There have been lots of things that I've conveniently been putting off and/or visualizing happening next year. Pretty much this means I've been procrastinating and now it's time to pay the fiddler.

I've had two completed screenplays for awhile now and I've never shopped them, entered them in competition, in fact I've done nothing (not even re-read them) for about 6-8 months. I solemnly pledge to you, loyal reader(s?) that I will do something positive with them in the next 90 days.

I have had a few good ideas but haven't written hardly a thing to bring them to life. I will rectify this and have some new material soon.

(I suppose you could call this blab-fest a lame-o version of New Year's Resolutions)
One thing I've done already is the diet. Yeah, I know, I'm a broken record on this one. I've lost 8 pounds. Many more to go.

Okay. Now on to the fun stuff.

I finally saw Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skulls. Not so good. In fact, kind of bad. I don't want to waste energy on this snooze-fest, so lets move on shall we?
D-.

(I found this on deviantart.com by a person named daybender. nicely done, sir or madame.)

On the same night that I saw Indy IV, I watched Zombie Strippers. Also not good, but at least it had a sense of fun that was missing from Steven Speil-beard's latest. When I say a sense of fun, I'm definitely not saying it was funny. I'm just saying that it understood that it wasn't so great, and as a result it didn't take itself very seriously. It's a comedy that forgot to be funny, a boob-fest that forgot to be sexy, and a zombie movie that forgot to um, well, I have nowhere to go with this joke.
And, sadly, I have to say that Jenna Jameson looks really, really freaky.

She used to look like this

But now she looks like this.


Yecch. This is a prime example of why I will never ever ever have any whims or thoughts about plastic surgery.

I really have no cohesive thoughts tonight. This is just a purging of the mental junk drawer. Thanks for stopping by.

Thank heaven for small favors

I work for Hertz Rent-a-Car and while it's not the best job ever, it's certainly got it's perks and enough variety to make it enjoyable most days. My boss and I get along quite well as we're compatible in some ways that it's good to be so, and yin-yangy enough in other ways to not always be in lockstep. He values my opinion (I think) and I value his and these are good things.

I was going to transfer to Spokane a few months ago for what was initally a promotion (of sorts) and instead chose not to go when it became a demotion (of sorts).

The Hertz I work for is known as a licencee rather than a corporate office. The guy who owns it owns around 20 of them located in Idaho, Wyoming, South Dakota, Utah and Washington. They are owned under a corporation named Overland West while using the Hertz brand. We have three sizes of cities labeled as A, B, or C cities; A being the larger branches and C being the smaller branches.

In Idaho Falls we are one of the smaller B cities. Spokane is our largest A branch, meaning it is our largest branch, period. Me moving there would have been quite the step up both in terms of volume of work and in prestige.

I was quite disappointed to not go. Only in the last week or so have I accepted it and attempted to move on. It can still rankle, however, when I have a bad day here because I figure that a bad day there would somehow be better.

ANYway, my boss told me yesterday that Overland West is feeling the pinch of the crappy economy and that some layoffs have taken place in our A cities. When I asked about layoffs in our B cities (perhaps even OUR city) he told me I was fine because there are many people who have worked here less time than me, and part-timers (not me) would be first to go anyway. Whew.

How happy would I be to have been in Spokane (with, I presume, the bills of moving and a brand new apartment lease) and get canned? Not much.

So, thank heaven for small favors. I still have my job, it seems safe for the moment, I like most of my co-workers and I like my schedule most of the time. Bully for me.

just a few quick movie notes...

In Bruges is one of my new favorite movies. It's darkly funny, darkly tragic, and darkly violent. It's the kind of movie that would offend most people, so of course I'm a big fan. Colin Farrell is really quite funny and Ralph Feinnes is sort of off-type and evil, and still very good. Brendan Gleason is the perfect everyman bridge between these two characters. Hitmen, drugs, prostitutes, angst, midgets, tourism... In Bruges has it all. A-.

I'm a big Mike Mignola fan (he's the guy that invented Hellboy) and he had a one-shot comic book and attempted TV pilot called the Amazing Screw-On Head. The comic won an Eisner award, but sadly the TV pilot was not picked up (damn you Sci-Fi network!). Luckily for me Netflix had the pilot on DVD and I watched it and loved it. Quirky, inventive, and fun. And the artwork looks spot on to what Mignola puts on the page. I liked it a lot and am sad it didn't continue. B+.

errr...I'd write more here, but I have to work now.

a clarification...

Just a few quick notes about the previous post:

I'm not looking for sympathy. I've made my bed, and now I'm sleeping in it. I blame no one for my current state but myself.

It's not a cry for help. I'm a semi-educated, mostly reasonable adult and I can solve my own problems. It might take awhile, and I may stumble along the path, but I can do it myself.

The post was, as I have stated, simply an exercise in stepping outside of my comfort zone. Said zone was constructed by me as a short-term remedy, used to help me deal with a bad situation. I have come to realize that this short-term fix was merely that, and in the long-term I need to expand and rediscover myself so that I may be a healthier and happier person.

I don't need mood-leveling drugs, therapy, or deep, deep concern. Perhaps an occasional hug, or a kind word and my world will be a better place. Oooh, and Ho Ho's. Yeah, Ho Ho's will make every thing swell.

Peace out.

my blogging problem

I have a built-in resitance to blogging because, well, blogging is a very public enterprise and I have grown into a person who is, in general, quite private. I am pretty much an open book to my friends but I have reservations about airing my dirty laundry in a forum that anyone, and I mean anyone, can peruse at any time. Perhaps I am turning into Old Man. I am resitant to change, I am crabby and cantankerous. I do not embrace the MySpace generation ideal. I guess I prefer my shite to stay my shite.

(deep breath)

So, in an effort to grow a bit (I'm hoping that getting outside of my comfort zone will be a good thing), I have decided to share a bit of my shite with whoever happens to read it.

And away we go...

I'm a train wreck. A grease fire. To some, a lost cause.

As you may or may not know, I was in a rotten marriage, I got divorced and I no longer have custody of my children. Along the way, I was emotionally abused, I was emotionally abusive, and I lost a good deal of my self esteem.

I have retreated into a small world where I don't have to deal with much. I work, I go home, I read/watch movies/play video games/write (this rarely)/hide from the bulk of the world.

I, for a long while, hurt so badly that I barely functioned on an adult human level. When I started to realize that I was zombie-like, I had to apologize to my boss for mailing it in for several months. Luckily he's been divorced twice so he was understanding.

I have gotten into a comfort zone that doesn't allow for much emotion. Doesn't allow for social interaction outside of work. Doesn't allow me to grow at all. As a result, I have been bottling up all of my negative energy for years. I've found that I over-react to small things and I have the ability to explode over medium things. Luckily for me and everyone who knows me, I haven't had any big problems because then I'd be climbing the bell tower with a rifle. Har har.

All kidding aside, I have come to realize that I need to find a social life. I probably need to date someone and have someone to share good and bad things alike. What stops me from doing this is, because of the afore-mentioned divorce, I have grown bitter and cynical and wary of sharing. I have trust issues. I have commitment issues. I have people issues. And worstly, as a person who needs to heal, I have issues with anyone who wants to 'fix' me.

I had what I thought was a good first step to making a change in my life: I was going to move to Spokane. I was going to have to make new friends and accquaintences. But, unfortunately, the job didn't work out, so I stayed right here, resistant to change, and bitter about losing the opportunity.

So...

To whomever reads this, please have patience with me while I try to figure out how to become a functioning memeber of society again.

To all of my friends, you are few these days, but please know that you are important to me. I appreciate you more than I can say.

To all of the ladies in the world, I'm really not an evil dick. I can cook alright, your mom will like me, and I can almost watch chick flicks with interest and a straight face.

(another deep breath, and a small shudder)

Yeesh. I just re-read the above and have decided (against my better judgement) to not edit anything beyond minor grammar/spelling flaws. As I mentioned, I hope this is a positive step for me. I wish me luck.

ugh

I usually don't do memes but ...well, I'm really bored. Enjoy.
1. ROCK STAR NAME: (first pet, current car): Alice Sable

2. GANGSTA NAME: (fav ice cream flavor, favorite kind of shoe): Coffee Sneaks

3. HIPPY NAME: (what you ate for breakfast, fav tree): Toast Bonsai

4. SOAP OPERA NAME: (middle name, city where you were born): LeRoy Rexburg

5. STAR WARS NAME: (the first 3 letters of your last name, first 2 of your first name): Barbr

6. SUPERHERO NAME: (favorite color, favorite drink): Black Diet Coke

7. NASCAR NAME: (the first names of your grandfathers/grandmothers): J.D. Joseph

8. STRIPPER NAME: (the name of your favorite perfume/cologne/scent, favorite candy): Black Pop Rocks

10. TV WEATHER ANCHOR NAME: (Your 4th grade teacher’s last name, a city that starts with the same letter): Kleck Kalamazoo

11. SPY NAME: (your favorite season/holiday, flower): Summer Pansy

12. CARTOON NAME: (favorite fruit, article of clothing you’re wearing right now) Orange Jammies

March can't get here soon enough

Every comic and movie lovin' cell of my body is screaming for the calendar to move faster so March 6th will arrive so I can go see Watchmen.





This is one of the best comics of all time and the thought of seeing this on the big screen is right up my nerdy alley. Which is not the same as my Kirstie Alley, who is locked in my basement, wearing a gimp mask, and totally blowing her diet.





Also, Rudy Ray Moore is dead. While those of us who fight The Man pause for a moment of silence to honor the man who was Dolemite, those of you with teenaged daughters can breathe a sigh of relief.

...stupid life...

The last month or two have been odd.
I went to Spokane for a job interview, was offered the job, accepted the job, then subsuquently turned the job down (after the job description changed four times in a matter of weeks, and it had turned into a demotion instead of a promotion) and did not, in fact, move to Spokane after I was half packed. *sigh*
The Hertz manager, Eddie, in Jackson Hole had a heart attack the same day that Jackson lost most of its seasonal workers. Thus they were very short of help and I spent many days commuting to Jackson to work. Worked 18 out of 20 days at one point. Not fun.
The result of these things transpiring is that I have had no desire to blog whatsoever. I have had watched a few movies (listed/graded below) and discovered a few TV shows that I kinda dig.
I like Fringe on Fox. Obviously it owes a lot to the X Files and Kolchak, but it's pretty well done. All two episodes I've seen. Third episode tonight. Whee!
I've been trying to watch Anthony Bourdain's No Reservations on the Travel Channel. He's smooth, full of common sense and cooking/travel knowledge, and is probably the coolest guy in the room. He's a joy to watch because of his joy. Conversely, my friend Sean Sean hates him for the exact reasons I dig him. Buzzkill.
I've been listening to Les Savy Fav, Jon Spencer, Tool, Deltron 3030 and Nine Inch Nails.
Here's what I've been watching, movie-wise...

29. Firefly season 1 A
30. Serenity B+
31. Succubus: Hellbent F
32. 5ive Girls F
33. Being There A
34. Burn After Reading B
35. Hellboy: Blood and Iron B
36. Holes: C+

Peace out

P.S. I'm sure you'll all be ecstatic to know that I have begun growing the winter beard. I pledge to get it larger, more voluminous, and gnarlier than last year.

I pretty much despise politics...

so this is prolly 'bout as political as I'll get in this blog. This is a picture of old man McCain, his wife, and his not-too-bright looking busty daughter. I found it under the caption "Two reasons I'd vote for McCain".
That amused me (which politics rarely do) so I thought I'd share.

I Hate People part 1128

So I'm working at the airport and it appears to be Missionary Homecoming Day. Every time a flight lands there are scads of shiny Mormon families with their matching haricuts and homemade dresses waiting for the aforementioned missionary.

Side note number one. A few years ago the Mormon church came out with a suggestion that families wait at home for the missionary to arrive (picked up by maybe just Mom and Dad at the airport proper) so that it wouldn't become a distraction in a public place. This suggestion has apparently gone the way of the dodo.

Side note number two. When I returned from my mission (at this very same airport) I got off the plane and found...nobody. I went to the bag carousel and while I waited there my mom tapped me on the shoulder, gave me a brief hug, and said "I'll be in the car." I collected my bags and headed for said auto where my father popped the trunk (he didn't exit the car until we got home) and said "How you doin?" You know what? It was perfect. No spectacle, no showboating, no fuss.

Unlike this airport today.

My favorite parts today in no particular order.

1. The flight landed at 8:26, the bags were on the carousel by 8:41 and now at 9:21 one of the families is still here there are (hang on a sec...) 17 people not including the missionary. Please, people, for the love of all this is holy, take your inbred lookin' children who can't sit still or be quiet and go home.

2. The family who, I assume, is welcoming a missionary who had gone to Japan. I assume this because this family of indistinguible members are all wearing these...

on their pointy heads. Yep, nothing quite like seeing a gaggle of white, Mormon Idahoans wearing (perhaps) mocking headwear to salute another white, Mormon Idahoan who appears to be quite proud of his status as dojo master.

3. The mom who brings four kids (the oldest, I'm guessing is five) who all have balloons. Firstly, they arrived waaaay too early, and secondly, when (inevitably) one of the urchins loses control of their balloon and it sailed to the very high ceiling never to be retreived, the child freaked. This was followed by his siblings mocking him with their still-possessed balloons and he mother reading (I wish I was making this up) Better Homes and Gardens while ignoring her four shreiking whelps completely.

So, again, I hate people.

Sigh.

This seems cheesy and dumb, no?

Oh, yeah, this is awesome.

My midlife crisis can't come soon enough.

So I mentioned in this blog a few months back that I was looking into buying a new car. Since my credit stinks, I knew it wouldn't be a new-new car, but a new-to-me car. I had, I'm sure you'll recall, only one stipulation: No Ford Tauruses. I've had my 1996 Taurus for 12 years and, while it's served me (mostly) faithfully, I wanted something a bit flashier. Something fun, you know, for the ladies.

So (long story short) My Mom bought a new car from my sister's husbands company. I flew to Phoenix to pick it up and drive it back to Idaho. My Mom gets a new grandma car, and I bought her 1996 Mercury Sable, the nearly identical twin (although slightly fancier) to the Taurus. Guh. So I kept my ideal alive: I didn't get a Taurus. I got it's cousin that has leather trimmed interior.

Someday soon when I reach the magical milestone of 40 and I start my midlife crisis, I'll maybe move up to a Buick LeSabre or a Crown Victoia. Kill me.

A few random things from my 2 day, 2000 mile journey:

America is illiterate. I saw a car that was "4 sell", and another, apparently desperate owner who was "moving must sale".

I reignited my one-sided, unreqited crush on Neko Case. I listened to her album "Blacklisted" about 1000 times, confident that one day, she will be mine, oh yes, she will be mine.

Living in Idaho sometimes makes me definitely want to kill myself. I passed a billboard outside of Preston hawking Spudfest 2008. You know Spudfest... Dawn Wells' family oriented movie festival held in Driggs each summer? This year they're celebrating Elvis and they have a horrible potato-as-fat Elvis singing "Love me tater...". Seriously, Napoleon Dynamite, racist militia dicks, Larry Craig, these aren't enough to shame us so we need recently pot-busted Mary Ann to have a friggin' Elivs potato butchering one of the best all time songs to shamelessly plug her crappy-ass festival? I will move away soon. I promise.


Sigh. This makes me wonder if Tina Louise or Danny Bonaduce are going to try to sell me crack this weekend.

vive la difference!

I watched two movies on Thursday and they could not have been more different.



First up, The Orphanage. A well thought out, deliberate, and very scary movie that gave me the chills, the willies (or as my friend Jon Rex used to say) the Williams, and an ending that toyed with my emotions and won. I started and stopped this movie three times so I could get my adrenaline down. I was literally watching through my fingers while curled up in a ball.
It's the story of a lady who grew up in an orphangage (duh) and now, as an adult, her and her husband and adopted son purchase the orphanage so she can continue to help children. From there it turns into a sublime, skin-crawling haunting. I seriously got goosebumps many, many times.
Well done all around. A-.



Second, we have a Japanese gore-fest called The Machine Girl. It was awful and I loved every second of it. A girl gets her arm cut off (and her brother killed) by Ninja mafia dicks, so she has a mechanic craft a machine gun for her arm (a la Planet Terror and Rose McGowan's leg) so she can exact her revenge. One of the most disgusting movies I've seen in awhile. There's even a mafia lady with a drill bra. Yes, you read that right. Not for the squeamish. Utter crap. But enjoyable crap. C+

lazy days

This summer hasn't been real great for me to have lazy days. I love lazy summer days; the BBQ's, golf, summer movies, etc. I haven't played golf yet (had a nice golf day scheduled last week, but my allergies reared their ugly head, and I was unable to go), only grilled once, and have only seen a few summer movies in the theater. My work schedule hasn't helped, in fact, it's kinda hurt my chances for lazy fun.
However...
This week (and next week) I will have conIsecutive days off and I plan on being as lazy as I can get away with.
Yesterday was a three movie day. I haven't done that in a long time. Yay me.
Here's how it goes:
I really wanted to like Be Kind Rewind, but it just wasn't that good. Wonderful premise, bad execution. Lots of good ideas that never came to fruition. Liked the first 40 minutes a lot, wanted my money back after it was all over. D+.



Watched the Bourne Ultimatum again and loved it again. One of the best action movies ever, it's the best of the three in the Bourne series, and it's probably more responisible for the re-boot of the 007 franchise than anything else. A.



I watched Top Secret for the first time in a bazillion years. I was reminded of it when I read an article at empireonline.com wondering why it is a forgotten member of the spoof family. I went and bought it (yay Hastings discount, it was only $5.48!) and laughed my ass off again. Not as good at Airplane, but better than Hot Shots or any of the current pap calling itself a spoof movie (this means you, Epic Movie, Superhero Movie, Scary Movie, etc.) B.



1. Monsturd D-
2. Zodiac C+
3. Southland Tales F
4. Sunshine A-
5. Alien A
6. Payback (director's cut) D-
7. Severance B-
8. Hellboy C+
9. Night of the Hunter D---
10. Sanjuro B+
11. Santa Claus Conquers the Martians F, MST3K version B+
12. Hellboy: Sword of Storms C-
13. The Thing From Another World B-
14. the Maltese Falcon B-
15. the Big Sleep B
16. Blacula D
17. Scream, Blacula, Scream D+
18. Cloverfield B
19. Domino C+
20. Get Smart B-
21. the Changeling in memory B+, in reality C-
22. the Lady in the Lake F
23. Hellboy II The Golden Army B
24. Pirates of the Carribean at World's End C-
25. Be Kind Rewind D+
26. Bourne Ultimatum A
27. Top Secret B

sorrysorrysorrysorry...what can I say? I suck.

So I haven't blogged in awhile. I'm sorry, get over it, and let's start anew, shall we?

Instead of trying to play catch up, and attempting to fit a month's worth of shite into this blog, I'll give you a quick and abbreviated summary. It goes a little something like this...

I've worked a lot (a whole lot) in the last month, I've watched a few movies and my allergies are kickin' my buttocks. Bleh. Here's the updated version of my Summer of 1000 Movies list:

1. Monsturd D-
2. Zodiac C+
3. Southland Tales F
4. Sunshine A-
5. Alien A
6. Payback (director's cut) D-
7. Severance B-
8. Hellboy C+
9. Night of the Hunter D---
10. Sanjuro B+
11. Santa Claus Conquers the Martians F, MST3K version B+
12. Hellboy: Sword of Storms C-
13. The Thing From Another World B-
14. the Maltese Falcon B-
15. the Big Sleep B
16. Blacula D
17. Scream, Blacula, Scream D+
18. Cloverfield B
19. Domino C+
20. Get Smart B-
21. the Changeling in memory B+, in reality C-
22. the Lady in the Lake F
23. Hellboy II The Golden Army B
24. Pirates of the Carribean at World's End C-

If you have any questions about specific movies that I haven't reviewed yet, ask and I'll give you my thoughts. Right now I'm at work and I'm not in the mood to write a whole bunch.

And on that note...

Later days
B-Rad

Somedays my job is cool

One of my favorite things about my job is the vast cornucopia of people that wander through the airport on their way to somewhere. I like to people watch. People are an endless font of quirky eccentricities. For example...
Today I saw a middle-aged lady wearing two fanny packs. Yep, tee double-you oh, two. She had them both on her front, all snug up against each other. One was the traditional black nylon, and the other was a heavy fabric-lookin' one with a southwest motiff.
I tried in vain to get my bag (not, in fact, a fanny pack, but a stlyish messenger bag; its official color is Ron Burgundy), wrangle out my celly and surreptitiously take a picture, but she was too fast. Or I was too slow. Whatever.
Sigh.

I'm not what you would call a 'Trekkie', but this is cool...

Nuff said.

Holy crap...

...did I only post three times in May? Sorry to both of you who read this. I've been busy with (don't laugh) Halo 3. It's awesome. Great story, graphics, gameplay, I give it an A.



Anyway...Bridget Bradley Barrett Jones is happy because I've lost six pounds overall (and this without trying nearly as hard as I should have) and I'm down to 234. Wheee!

I have managed to squeeze a few movies into my days and it goes a little somethin' like this:

Sanjuro is Akira Kurosawa's sequel to Yojimbo (Yojimbo being one of my favorite all time movies) and it's really good. It's not as dark tonally as Yojimbo, but it's quite entertaining, moves briskly, and is beautifully shot. But, like most sequels, just doesn't quite live up to the first installment. The wife of the captured offical is transcendant. I'll give it a B+.



My friend Larry (nee Jerry) had never seen the MST3K version of Santa Claus Conquers the Martians, so I made him watch it. Easily one of the worst movies I've ever seen, but equally good treatment at the hands of Joel and the 'bots. Gems include a great Invention Exchange that includes the Road House board game, Crow's new Christmas carol "A Patrick Swayze Christmas", and Gypsy's Mr. Mashed Potato Head. The original movie gets a big fat F, but the MST3K version gets a B+



I watched an animated Hellboy movie called Hellboy: Sword of Storms. Meh. Not bad, not great, just kind of gets a shrug, y'know? The best part is that all of the same actors from the movie did the voices. The animation was pretty good, but, well, meh. C-.



I also watched The Thing From Another World, the Howard Hawks production of an alien being unearthed near the North Pole and the suspense and terror that ensues. This movie was remade in the 80's by John Carpenter with Kurt Russell as MacReady in the more simply titled, The Thing. The latter is one of my favorite horror movies, while the former was pleasantly surprising. I figured the original would be not so good, but I was wrong. If you can overlook the Hawks' trademark snappy banter, it's a well done exercise in atmosphere, philosophy, and dread. Carpenter's remake discarded the philosophy and concentrated more on claustrophobia, gore, and terror. The Thing From Another World gets a B-.



The list so far:
1. Monsturd D-
2. Zodiac C+
3. Southland Tales F
4. Sunshine A-
5. Alien A
6. Payback (director's cut) D-
7. Severance B-
8. Hellboy C+
9. Night of the Hunter D---
10. Sanjuro B+
11. Santa Claus Conquers the Martians F, MST3K version B+
12. Hellboy: Sword of Storms C-
13. The Thing From Another World B-

P.S. Ya'll know I'm gonna have to watch this...



...right?

So there's this guy...

(this is Rey Mysterio with a stoned-looking Lindsay Lohan)

So there's this guy who comes into Hastings a lot, we'll call him Dick. Dick likes to rent movies and then complain about something (freezes, skips, no sound) so he can get a free movie. We've all figured out his game and we all try not to give in to him. So he comes in the other day having rented some WWE event DVD, and he wants a free rental because Rey Mysterio was not listed on the DVD box, but he did, in fact, appear on the DVD itself.

Wha?

Come on, man, is that the best you got?

Luckily, I was helping someone else, because I was already in a snarky mood and I would have found it difficult to be kind to Dick, so my co-worker Supreme Nerd Commander (I mean that in a good way) Michael Gappmeyer told him to get bent (not really, but Gappmeyer told him 'no') and Dick left, telling us we needed to 'work on our customer service skills.'

Dick called back later and spoke to our manager, Jay (who is excellent at conflict resolution), and Jay told Dick that since we didn't like him, and he didn't like us, maybe he should go rent from Hollywood or Blockbuster.

Two days later I was working again, and Dick came back. He's such an idiot. When I mentioned this to Jay, he told me that Dick's wife was 'meaner and stupider' than Dick.

I don't really have much of a point here, just that some people suck really, really bad.

Beware Night of the Hunter

I've been a little light on the movie watching the last few weeks. Been pretty busy, but I managed to sneak in a handful.

I remember that I watched Hellboy when it first came out on DVD, but to be honest, I didn't remember much about it. I didn't remember that John Hurt played old guy Broom, I didn't remember that there was a new sidekick (sorry Agent Myers, you made no lasting impression), and I didn't remember any of the ending. At all.
So, like any good fanboy would, I bought a copy. You know, because it's a comic book thingy, and I should support that and stuff. So I watched it again and it's really not too shabby. I was pleasantly surprised by most of it (it helped that I forgot so much of it) and thought the special effects were quite well done. I really only watched it again because I want to go see the sequel this summer, and I wanted a referesher. This movie doesn't really work on a believable semi-real level like say, Batman Begins, it only really works when viewed through a true comic book adventure prism. I can't imagine any actor other than Ron Perlman playing this part, and I liked Selma Blair, too. Not great, not bad, but a solid C+.

So I've always meant to watch Night of the Hunter, and lo and behold, it was on Turner Classic Movies last week. So I TiVo'd it and gave it a watch. One of my favorite things on TCM is a segment they call "The Essentials." They have somebody like renaissance woman Carrie Fisher or critic Molly Haskel on to chat with host Robert Osbourne's corpse about their favorite movies as a segue into watching it. Usually it's someone with a little Hollywood cache, someone who might not be my favorite actor/director/producer/writer but they're generally respectable.

So to introduce Night of the Hunter is... wait for it... Rose McGowan.
I mean... really? Rose McGowan? On The Essentials? Yep, she's co-hosting all month.

What, was Joyce DeWitt busy?

Brian Austin Green was booked?

Yeesh.

So Osbourne and McGowan are foaming at the mouth about this "Essential", when McGowan says "It's not subtle..."

One of the 'Charmed' sisters says it's not subtle? The eye-candy from Scream says it's not subtle? The chick that used to date Marilyn Manson, the girl from Planet Terror who had a machine gun for a leg says it's not subtle?

Uh, oh.

(now to be fair, I liked Planet Terror and Scream...)

But I digress.

Night of the Hunter was awful. McGowan was right. Not subtle, in fact, not good, not cohesive, not well written, not well directed, certainly not well acted, and absolutely not entertaining.

Robert Mitchum was chewing the scenery, and not in a good way. Shelly Winters gave a shrill, one-note performance on par with most high school actresses I had the, ahem, pleasure to work with in my teens. The script was just dreadful and it seemed as if the director had no idea what he word 'continuity' meant. I have no idea why this film is considered an 'Essential'. Bleh. Double bleh.

If I had the choice to watch this film again or to eat a bucketful of cancer, I'd have to flip a coin. D---. (The only reason I don't give it an F is because Lillian Gish did a respectable job.)

So far the Summer of 1000 Movies (or S1000M) looks like this:

1. Monsturd D-
2. Zodiac C+
3. Southland Tales F
4. Sunshine A-
5. Alien A
6. Payback (director's cut) D-
7. Severance B-
8. Hellboy C+
9. Night of the Hunter D---

Bridget Jones is sad.

Bradley Bridget Jones Barrett update: I haven't really tried to diet the last two weeks, and as a result, I have not lost any weight. The upside to this is, somehow, I haven't managed to gain any back. I'm stuck, for the moment, at 237 pounds. I partially blame my work schedule, it's been pretty hectic and I've lost my motivation. Starting today, though, I am losing the hectic part for a bit; I don't work a morning shift for the next eight days. I will get back on the diet/exercise wagon and I'm positive I'll have good news to report next week.

I stole the following questions from various friends' blogs.

1. What was I doing 10 years ago? I was managing the lamest dance club in the universe. I was drinking too many espresso's and playing a lot of pool.

2. 5 things on my to-do list: laundry, script submissions, diet/exercise, read, watch movies.

3. What snacks do I enjoy? What snacks don't I enjoy? Things with sugar, chocolate, salt, empty calories, carbohydrates, and some sort of tasty goo.

4. What would I do if I suddenly became a billionaire? I'd disappear. Sayonara, suckers.

5. 3 bad habits: The aforementioned snacks, I can be incredibly lazy, and in the comfort of my own home, when no one is around, I will, on occasion, pick my nose.

6. 3 places I've lived: in a dingy fifth-wheel in Skagway, Alaska. In my brother's basement. At the lowest point of my life, I lived in my car. My car that didn't run.

7. Jobs I've had: I dressed as a miner named Stinky Cleetus McGee and drove a tourbus in Alaska. I moved pipe. I wrote snarky movie reviews for a University newspaper.

8. 5 things ya'll don't know about me. 1. My thumbs are double-jointed 2. See nose-picking comment above 3. I like "Toxic" by Britney Spears 4. I have C-cup love handles 5. I have big feet (wink-wink nudge-nudge knowwhatImean-knowwhatImean)

I'm easily distracted by small, shiny objects.

There are a handful of things that have been distracting me from my Summer of 1000 Movies. Some of them are, in no particualar order:

A. The NBA Playoffs. Being a diehard Celtics fan (I inherited this love from my father who was a big Russell/Cousy fan) it's nice to have the C's back in the playoffs. They've stunk the joint out in recent years, so I make an effort to watch every one of their games in a lame attempt to make up for lost time.

B. A Song of Ice and Fire. George R. R. Martin's fantasy historical series is knockin' my socks off. I'm currently digesting book four...and that's a problem. There will be seven books in this series but only four have been published as yet. Five is out in September (allegedly, there have been delays before) and I'm about to pee my pants with excitement.

C. Work. Currently rockin' two jobs (the better to pay my bills with) and that takes a lot of time and effort. Luckily, on certain nights, I can read or watch movies while working at Hertz. Don't tell my boss.

But enough of my bellyachin'.

Bradley Bridget Jones Barrett update: I have lost another pound! Woo hoo! I've truly only put a half-hearted effort into my dieting, and I have yet to exercise in any meaningful way, but I've lost three pounds in three weeks. Current weight is 237.

And finally getting to my Summer of 1000 Movies, I watched a few good ones this week. In the order that I watched them...

4. A couple of months ago I got Sunshine from Netflix. I watched it and sat, stunned, in my chair letting my amazement settle. I then drove to the post office, mailed it back, and drove directly to Hastings to purchase my own copy. I then sat down and watched it again. So my buddy Larry (nee Jerry) was over and he'd not seen it so I made him watch it. It's the story of a future Earth, where the sun is dying and a space mission has been launched to reignite the sun thereby saving us humans from imminent death. Along the way the usual life or death situations occur. I have to say, that there was nothing wholly original about this movie (there's only so much you can do with a realistic-style space movie) but there are parts that exceed their grasp in an excellent way. The direction was strong, the writing economic and lively, and there was nary a bum note from the cast. Overall, one of the most well made, interesting, and entertaining movies I've had the pleasure to watch. A-.

5. Not to be on a mini sci-fi run, but I watched Alien for the first time in a bazillion years. I think the last time I watched this film it was a VHS copy. I remember really liking this one, but I'd forgotten many of the specifics. I'd also forgotten that Ian Holm (Bilbo Baggins from the Lord of the Rings trilogy) played science officer Ash. What a wonderful exercise in claustrophobic atmosphere and tension. And while set in space, this is really a horror film. A really well made horror film. I can't imagine that anyone who reads this will not be familiar with the plot, so I'll leave the summary to others. I love this film. It's one of the best of its kind. A.

6. I remember the first time I saw the Mel Gibson vehicle Payback. I thought it was fun, dark, and kind of odd. An intersting use of bad-guy-as-sympathetic-guy dynamics. I gave it three stars when I was filling out Netflix reviews. I found out recently that there was going to be a director's cut (seven years later!) and that because of studio interference during the intial production director Brian Helgeland was being given the opportunity to cut the film the way he originally intended. Ugh. What folly. After noticing a different variation of the opening, the only thing that was improved upon was the score. I'm not kidding. Most of the movie was either unchanged or not changed enough that I noticed. But the real problem was the ending. While the earlier version had a sense of fun and dark humor, the director's version was overly simple and humorless. Bleck. If you feel a burning need in your loins to see this movie, get the version originally released and not the directors cut. Original version C+, directors cut D-.


7. Watched a delightful horror/black comedy movie called Severance yesterday. It's about a sales team for a weapons manufacturing company embarking on a "team building" weekend in the Hungarian wilderness. Yeah, kinda goofy, but in this case it works just fine. As the team arrives in the woods, things begin to go awry, and then they start getting picked off, as you'd imagine, one by one. Some excellent British humor moments that had me laughing my proverbial knickers off, some well done jump-scares (one even made me slosh my cereal all over my lap), and some gore/boobs/satisfaction-when-the-dumbass-dies moments. Not art, but fun and etertaining. B-.

That's all for now. Buh bye.

Help me Obi Wan, you're my only hope...

So I've got a minor dilemma with my Summer of 1000 Movies. How to count TV series? Here's how I see it and I'd like a little input from those of you who would be so kind.
Say, for example, that Deadwood Season One is twelve episodes long. I propose that if I were to watch it (again) that I would count every two hours as one movies worth of viewing, thus Deadwood S1, watched in its entirety, would count as six movies.
A friend of mine has said that this is the wrong way to approach it. He opines that one season of a show should count as one movie. Maybe I'm just selfish with my time, but that seems unreasonable. I get his point; that one season has one overreaching arc (presumably), and as such should be counted as one story, one movie.
I will, for the time being, count every two hours of TV as one movie, until such time as someone suggests something that makes more sense.
Any suggestions, fellow movie buffs? Am I on the right track here? Lemme know, please.

What I did for my summer vacation...in the future!

Last summer I had a wonderful idea. I would watch 100 movies and then blog about them. Long story short, life intervened and I had to put the idea on the backburner.
So.
Here I am, thinking it would be a good idea to do it again. Thus without further ado, I welcome you to...

SUMMER OF 1000 MOVIES! (during which I will, in actuality, watch 100 movies.)

I'm thinking I will cheat a smidge and include Monsturd, which I have already blogged about, because, really, I can't think of a better movie to begin a list of 100 movies than one that 'stars' a human-sized poop monster. It was not good, in fact I'll give it a generous D-.

Watched David Fincher's Zodiac and was mildly entertained/disappointed. I've dug most of Fincher's work and I wanted to enjoy this as well, but mostly I just shrug at it. The biggest problem, I suppose, is that I already knew that the Zodiac Killer was never caught, so that element of tension fell flat. Also, I had read the book that the movie was based on, so there were really no surprises to be found. This film reminded me of a Ron Howard production: well assembled, technically sound, and no soul whatsoever. Robert Downey, Jr. was very good, as was the rest of the cast, but there was no spark for me. A well made disappointment receives a C+.

As a fan of Donnie Darko, (the original release, not the director's cut) I had high hopes for writer/director Richard Kelly's next movie, Southland Tales. Sure I had read about the production issues, how it flopped so bad at Cannes that Kelly had to return to the cutting room for a thousand years to fix it, but how bad could it be, really? Weeelll, it pains me to say it, because I wanted to like it, but it's maybe one of the worst movies I've ever seen. The story was convoluted, the plot (some nincompoopery about world domination, the fourth dimenison, politics) was insipid and just...not really there, the acting was mediocre at best. Here's how I see it: Remember Princess Bride? Then remember how Rob Reiner tried to recapture that vibe, the silly/serious, almost a parody of a parody style in North only to fail spectacularly? Now think of Repo Man (if you haven't seen it you should, and this comparison might be lost on you) and remember the sense of whimsy it had while being totally serious while being completely absurd while being (most importantly) fun and entertaining. Southland Tales tried to find a vibe like this and failed impressively. So, yeah I just compared The Princess Bride to Repo Man and North to Southland Tales. Shame on you Richard Kelly. You get a big fat F.

So, for the record, ths Summer of a Thousand Movies begins like this:

1. Monsturd D-
2. Zodiac C+
3. Southland Tales F

Please discuss. Thanks you.

All is well in the universe.

Finally I have resolution with the Bank of America. It only took about a month but we both seem happy with the results of our efforts to return my bank account to normal after some dickweed stole my debit card number. It took them 20 days to get me a new debit card, however, and that sucks. But now I have it and I can spend my money again. Wheeee!

Bradley 'Bridget Jones' Barrett weight loss update: after 15 days of half-assed dieting and really no exercise at all (I've been busy/lazy) I have lost 2 pounds. 238 and counting. It's amazing what losing a few pounds will do for one's self esteem. I'm walkin' around like I'm Tyler freakin' Durden or something. Weird.

Finally started recieving Netflix movies again and I got the no-budget 'horror' flick Monsturd. Having read that it cost $3000.00 to make, and after reviewing the synopsis (serial killer escapes jail, falls into chemically altered sewer thus becoming a poop monster) I was sure that this movie would suck, but it seemed that it would be fun. Well I was half right. It did suck but it was not fun at all. I couldn't even finish it. After about half an hour (an Herculean effort) I started searching forward to see if there were any boobs or 'sploshuns, but nope, it just sucked. On a related note, is there a phrase or term for the act of searching forward just to see if there's boobs? I respectfully submit 'fast-pornwarding'. On another related note I've realized that I use 'crap', 'poop', or derivitaves thereof for many of my critiques. I avoided them here because I didn't want to say "Monsturd was a pile of crap", or "Monsturd was a real stinker" and therefore be Mr. Punny Pants.

I went car shopping and almost threw up. I talked to a guy whose nickname is 'Lumpy' and he seemed cool but the process of buying a car makes me queasy. I found a few cars I liked but I've had the same car for almost 12 years and it's hard for me to comprehend a car payment again. I didn't even come close to buying anything. Ugh. More on this as it develops.

I would write more now, but my laundry calls.

Laters

a veritable pot pourri of random, trivial, um, stuff. And stuff.

The name is Jones, Bridget Jones.
My boss and I are having a wager to see who can lose fifteen pounds first. We picked a weigh-in time and went down to the airlines fancy baggage scales for the dirty deed. I weighed (ahem) 240 pounds. Mind you this was fully clothed, and soon after lunch where I had consumed a footlong Subway meatball sandwich and a 32oz Diet Coke (perhaps this is a symptom of my waistline) so I had a few extra pounds on me. I say this like 238 pounds is skinny or something. My boss weighed 224 pounds so when I lose my 15 he'll still be skinnier than me even if he loses nothing. Sigh. I'll keep you all posted on my exercise/denial of decent food.
Oh, and the wager? the winner will receive a free all you can eat buffet. We're geniuses.

Watched two movies the other night. The Mist and Zorro, The Gay Blade.
Had never read the Stephen King book, so I was pleasantly surprised by the very sad and ironic ending. I took delight in recognizing several B-movie people in their roles (most of them are of the variety of "Hey, it's that guy!", but it was also good to see William Sadler, even if he's aging a lot and thereby reminding me that I am also) and the effects were bueno. Frank Darabont seems to have been born to adapt King's work, and the guy who played Ollie stole the show. I'll give this one a solid B.
As for Zorro, when I was 10 or 11, my family happened to be in Salt Lake on the 24th of July and we were attending the stupid parade (I will contest that all parades are stupid) and were given stickers or fliers or something promoting Zorro, The Gay Blade. I was too young and it was a different era and I didn't get the 'gay' joke. I went to the movie when it came out in the theater and I remember enjoying it. It goes like this...George Hamilton plays Don Diego Vega (and there is a running joke that he mis-pronounces things Clouseau-style) and his father passes away. He soon discovers that his father was Zorro. Hamilton embraces his destiny and becomes Zorro. Unfortunately an accident leaves him with a broken ankle so he cannot resume his Zorro duties. Enter his long-absent twin brother who, it turnes out, is gay and has changed his name to Bunny Wigglesworth. He doesn't think the traditional Zorro outfit has enough flair so he makes his own of plum, green, gold, maroon, and even goes so far as to put tassles on the brim of his sombrero. He also favors the whip over the sword. The choreography is mired in a low-budget hell, and the action sequences are just plain laughable. Fast forward 26 years, however, and it's still a pleasant movie. If you can be entertained by George Hamilton's wide-eyed-buffoon shtick you'll probably like this. It's light, amusing, doesn't take much effort (other than ignoring Lauren Hutton's, er, acting) and it's fun. As a 'film' it doesn't rate too high, but as a lark, it's fun. I'll give it a generous B-.

June 1st is the premiere date of the third season of the Venture Bros. on Adult Swim. Originally set to come out in March, the lame-o writers strike slowed production and pushed it back a few months. Nearly every day I look at the calendar and sigh like some Jane Austen chick. Soon, I think, all will be well in the world. When I can look upon the tight shirts and blond mullet of the Swedish Murder Machine, Brock Sampson, all will be well. When I can hear the dulcet tones of Dr. Girlfriend, all will be well. When I can hear the inane rhetoric of Dean and Hank v.15.0, all will be well. Sigh. Can't this calendar move any faster?

I'm going to buy a new car soon. I hate this. Not because I've grown attached to my car, no, I hate my car, but because cars cost a lot and I'm inherently cheap. Ugh. 10-year-old cars with more mileage than Pam Anderson cost 9 grand and they look like the BluesMobile after its arrival at the Cook County Courthouse. At this point I only have one rule for my shopping: No Ford Tauruses. If I buy another one of these peesashit cars I fully give anyone who reads this full permission to throw me into the trunk with a hung-over Don Rickles and sink the car into the Mariana Trench.

Baseball season has begun! And the Mets stink. Sigh.

God bless Netflix. Because my account with them was tied to my stolen debit card number, I suspended my account (which was supremely easy) and after I reinstate my account I will receive a movie called Monsturd. Hooray for them carrying low-budget and no-budget fare to go along with their forty million copies of Transformers and Bring it On: In It To Win It. I have yet to search for a movie that they don't carry. Even some Argentine zombie movie called Plaga Zombie.

All right, that's enough for now. I really should be working.

I hate, therefore I am.

My brother and his family went out of town last weekend and I agreed to watch their dog while they were away. This was the easiest of watching gigs. I didn't have to stay there (I've always not liked staying at someone's house whilst they're not there) I just had to stop by once per day and take in the paper and mail and make sure the dog was fed/watered and generally, you know, alive.
On Saturday my brother calls me and asks me if while I'm there on Sunday I'd put the garbage cans out to the curb. The garbage is already in the cans, I just have to move the cans about thirty feet. Easy peasy. Except...
I forgot.
Monday morning (trash pick up morning) I open one eye at about 8am, just to see what time it was, and before I can close the eye again, I remember that didn't do the can thing. So.
I get up, find shoes, and go over to do it. I was more than a little pissed at myself because this was designated as one of my best sleep in days this week and I just ruined it. I drive the five minutes, move the cans, and within two minutes the cans have been picked up, emptied, and returned to the curb by a guy in coveralls and a spectacular mullet. I got lucky. I return the cans, grab the paper, go in the house, resist the temptation to kick the dog, and I leave for home.
On the way home my disgruntlement grows because I have officially passed the point-of-no-return-to-sleep. I had hoped to maybe get home without being too awake and go back to bed. I blew it.
I get home and my phone beeps. I had been too rushed to actually think to take the phone with me, so I missed the call and I arrived as it beeped to tell me I had a voice mail. So I push the requisite buttons and I listen to this...
"This is the Bank of America Fraud Department calling for Bradley L. Barrett. We have reason to believe that your debit card has recently been used in a fraudulent manner. Please call 555-5555 at your earliest conveneice blah blabbity blah."
To quote Hellboy, "Aw, crap."
So I call and I'm on hold for about 5-7 minutes (I'm resisting the urge to exaggerate the times to make these bank folk seem suckier) and I get a curt woman named Sabrina on the line. I always write down names of phone customer service people so I can thank them/curse them when I'm done talking to them. Sabrina tells me that she can't help me because my account is in Washington.
No, I say, it's in Idaho.
Same thing, she says, and puts me back on hold.
I then got some of the worst hold music on earth. It was like if PBS had a crappy kids show and the theme music was by a high school band.
Every thirty seconds a not-so-soothing male voice tells me that I am very important and that I will be helped in approximately two minutes. As a way to amuse myself, I look at my clock to note the time. Seventeen minutes and thirty-four not-so-soothing comments later, I get a human being on the phone.
Angela, she says. How can she help me?
So I explain and she makes the appropriate mouth noises and then she says she needs to have me hold while she researches my account activity. Nine minutes later (and believe me, you could research my account in about nine seconds because I am primarily a cash-and-carry kinda guy) she gets back on and asks me a whole bunch of questions regarding recent purchases, who has access to my account, etc., before putting me on hold for another eight minutes. She returns and tells me that she can't help me and that I have to go to my local branch. She thanked me for banking with Bank of America and she hung up before I could ask her much of anything at all.
At this point I was very angry because had I known that I simply needed to go to my local branch, I would have just done so and skipped the holding/useless helper part.
Unfortunately, I have been on the phone for so long, I now have to get ready to go to work and I will have to go to the bank on Tuesday.
Fast forward now to Tuesday and I'm sitting in the bank waiting for the bank staff to help me. My options are: the adult guy (forties, balding, decent tie) or the kid (early twenties, dorky hair, crap tie). I'm voting for the adult, and yay(!) I get my wish. He seems to actually listen when I speak, he seems to acutally understand my needs, and he seems to be able to actually fix my problem.
Sadly, things are not always what they seem. It was his (Jeff, officially) fourth day as a banker. He didn't know shit about shit. He called the exact same number I had called the day before to get help with my account. He talked to someone who told him they couldn't help him with an account in Idaho, he got put on hold multiple times and when he was done, nothing had happened. I was there for three hours. Okay, two hours and forty minutes, but close enough I say. My account is frozen pending research, my card is disabled, and I'm really feeling hateful toward B of A right now. I was told by Jeff and Alejandro (the guy Jeff had on the phone) that all would be fixed by Wednesday. It's now Thurdsday and nothing has been done. Except for the part where they screwed up and credited back some legitimate charges (things I told them were my actual and proper purcheses) and charged me for fraudulent purchases (an $1800 Moneygram, $1200 worth of pants) that I assured them were not mine. They treated me like a criminal, constantly asking me identity confirming questions so they could gather information, yet when I asked them questions, I was told they couldn't answer these questions over the phone. Gah.
...
So now I'm at work and I shoud be working but I'm blogging instead. Blogging incoherently, I might add. Usually I am somewhat fastidious about checking for spelling errors, incomplete sentences and the like. Tonight you get me raw and unfiltered with the exception of me not writing the F-bomb several thousand times.
Hopefully I'll blog in a day or two and be all beamy-like saying how B of A really came through and fixed everything and made it all right.
Somehow I doubt it.

bored, bored, boooorrred...

I'm bored at work. Here are some things from the internet that amuse me.



Holy Freud, I have this on my bedroom door.



Not only is Charleze Theron smoking, she's smoking...with an apple bong.



How has this man not won an Oscar?

The woes of September

Later this year, September to be exact, the airport I work in will close for a month. The city is going to dig up the runway and build it again. They will also tear out all of the electrical stuff that makes up the runway light system and replace that as well. They will also address the drainage problems that have plagued the runway. The problem with this little escapade is that no flights will be able to land (not exactly true...there's a tiny, alternate runway for tiny planes...but unless the airlines switch to tiny planes then no commercial flights will land) so I won't really work that month. We will be open a little (no one knows the details of this yet but we have to be open for one-way returns, private flights and local rentals. However, there will be too many employees and not enough hours.

Problem No. 1: No work = no pay. I know that money doesn't buy happiness, but it does buy rent, food, and opium.
Problem No. 2: I absolutely do not believe that the work will be done in a month. The city workers? The guys that every time I drive by a road crew, one guy is working (slowly), one is leaning on his shovel, two are holding signs that tell me to go slow, one is sitting in his truck, and two are sitting on the tailgate drinking whatever they've spiked their coffee thermos with. Yeah, that crack staff will be timely and efficient.
Problem No. 3: They are counting on the weather to cooperate. Um, yeah. Idiots.

So I expect to have at least 6 weeks off instead of four. Luckily I have six months to work my budget into shape. I've already planned to have very little fun whatsoever for the rest of this year. Thanks city planners! Maybe you shmoes that make these decisions should have taken into account that you may be fixing a road, but you're displacing a workforce of dozens. Why not start a fund to subsidize the airport workers? I'm certain that these same planners aren't going to be out of work for 8-12% of their work year.

I hate politics and things I can't control.

sigh.

Aw, man...part II

WARNING: TMI ALERT...

So I'm at work again, and I'm ambulating towards the men's room again (still slightly mystified by the previously posted-about Turd in the Urinal) and I'm maybe ten paces behind a middle-aged guy on his cell phone. He's talking a bit too loud and he keeps peppering his speech with quaint terms like "You know it, buddy" and "You're preachin' to the choir boy, boy."
He enters the men's room right before I do and he's still talking on his celly as he enters the handicapped stall.
He does not appear to be handicapped.
He continues to speak while I hear him unzip his trousers (a quick aside...I don't use the word 'trousers' nearly enough), grunt a little while (presumably) sitting down, then grunting more (again, presumably) to poop.
This is what I hear.

Grunt.
Splash.
"Aahhh...You betcha, my friend. I'll talk atcha tomorrow."

How do people think this is okay? Is there a special ring of Hell reserved for people who do this? What is the person on the other end of the phone call thinking?
What would I say if I was the person on the other end?
It's people like this guy who make me want to go all hermit-like and never leave my apartment again.

Beardy McBeardyson

This is the "combed and subdued" version of the beard. Enjoy.

aw, man...

It's Thurday night, I'm at work, and I'm speechless. I've been trying for maybe ten minutes to come up with something to add to this bit of information...this bit of Too Much Information, but I can't really verbalize my thoughts/feelings because the baseness of humanity has stunned me.
Tonight, somebody took a dump in a urinal in the men's room.
Ugh. Ick. Bleck.
Um, that's all I got.

I'm cursed.

Every time I go out of my way to be nice to someone, I get screwed.
About a month ago, an ex-co-worker of mine came in to where I work and asked if she could wash her car (we have a car wash bay, so this was not uncommon). The problem was that I didn't really like this partucular ex-co-worker. I always felt that she was pretty useless. She sat on her lazy ass all the time and make me work harder to pick up her slack. Grrr.
I distinctly recall myself thinking "Don't be a dick" and I let her wash her car, and I told her the same thing I tell everyone who uses our bay, "Don't make a mess."
Needless to say, she made an incredible mess. She had just gotten married, and her car had been decorated with those waxy animal crackers, marshmallow, and chunks of chocolate. I have come to understand that this is called "S'more-ing". If I need to explain to you how incredibly stupid and childish this is, you should probably take your own life. Soooo...take a pressure washer that sprays hot water then spray these ingredients around an enclosed space and what do you get? Half-melted S'mores all over the wash bay.
Then she left without cleaning any of it.
*sigh*
If I had been the aforementioned dick, then she wouldn't have made a mess (that I had to clean up) and that's the end of it. Needless to say, I shall never let her use our facilities ever, ever again.
I've got a million examples like this, but I don't really feel like dwelling on this crap right now.

Mind yer own bizness

Since it's been winter for a few months now, I've been growing my annual winter beard. This, coupled with the fact that I shave my head makes me look like Rasputin, Captain Spaulding, or Shel Silverstien.
What I don't understand is why complete strangers feel the need to ask me about my version of hirsuteness.
For example, at work my customers frequently ask me why I shave my head and not my face. Since I'm at work I can't say "Piss off! Nunya bizness!" so what I say is a self-depricating "Well, as you can see, I have encroaching male-pattern baldness so I shave my head to avoid the temptation to attempt some spectacular version of a comb-over. And I grow the beard because I need somewhere to keep my tick collection."
I said this to a lady who was maybe 65 years old, and she just frowned and walked away.
Mission accomplished.
I didn't feel the need to ask her why he had a severely outdated blue beehive hairdo, so why is she asking me about my 'do?
Why don't people mind their own business?

Holy crap. I'm old.

An old friend of mine, Blake Schwendiman, emailed me the other day. It seems I'm old enough to be invited to my 20 year high school reunion.
Oy, vey.
I hadn't really thought about it, but I've been out of high school for a long, long time. I hadn't thought about it because I pretty much hated high school. If not for a small handful of friends to keep me sane, I don't know how I would have made it through. I distinctly remember having a conversation with the old man where he had to convince me not to drop out at age sixteen.
One thing I've never been good at is keeping in touch with people, so most of the friends I had then are lost in the ether of time and space.
Do I have some obligation to revisit that time and those people?
It seems to me that I'll end up in a corner with my small group of friends (if they even show up), as will other people and their groups, and it will be the cliquey sameness that I didn't like 20 years ago.
Because this is the age of the interweb (as Dean Venture calls it) classmates that I haven't talked to in 15-20 years are now emailing me. I don't know what to do about that. Again, do I have some obligation simply because we were roughly the same age and were forced by politically produced geographic boundaries to attend the same school?
For now I have no answer for these questions. I'll keep you posted.

the Eff You face -or- Why I frighten missionaries

On Friday I was on my way to work when I decided to stop and buy a lottery ticket. I get to the gas station and there is a double-tank gas truck dropping it's payload into the ground tanks. As a result, traffic at the store is tight. It took me a minute or two to get parked and head toward the store.
While I waited for a parking spot to free up, I noticed the LDS missionaries. They were standing in the shade eating ice cream. Please note that it was very cold out and I couldn't figure out A. why they were eating ice cream, or B. why they didn't ambulate about four feet forward and stand in the sun. Whatever.
The other thing I noticed was that they were (as they usually do) going out of their way to say 'hello' and be all nicey-nice. Every shopper was getting a wave, a 'how you doing?' and such.
Except me.
As I approached they immediately tensed up and stared at their ice creams like Dead Sea Scrolls were printed there.
Wha?
I can only surmise the I must have had on my Eff You face. This is the face I used to put on when I went to the seedy part of Phoenix at 3am on a Saturday to go to an all-night Taqueria. It's the 'You don't wanna mess wit' me pal, I'm a powder keg of danger! I'll stab ya! Then I'll set you on fire and say mean things!' look that I may or may not pull off when attempted.
Apparently, I had that look this day.
That, or the missionaries are weenies. I dunno. They seemed like nice enough fellas, I guess they just thought I was scary or a lost cause.
Either way, they were gone when I exited the store.
And, can you believe it?, I didn't win the lottery. Again.

Sean Sean

I have a co-worker named Sean. He's a decent fellow, perhaps a bit cynical, jaded, bitter, argumentative, snarky, he doesn't suffer fools gladly, and he is occasionally mean, but decent.
So there's this girl at work. She works for a different company (we all rent cars at the airport...Sean and I at Hertz, that girl at Budget) so we don't talk to her much.
One day she comes over to Sean to presumably ask him something and she calls him Sean Sean.
We don't even know her name, yet she is A-OK with giving the mean bastard guy a silly nickname.
He was totally flummoxed. This officially bugs him. It officially amuses me.
My point?
There is no point. I just thought it was funny.

Steroids suck.

I like baseball.
Scratch that. I love baseball.
I love that there's no clock on a game. It unfolds at its own pace; each game different than the next. I love that it's a game that rewards both individual and team efforts. I love that I can watch a game intently or in a half-doze and enjoy it either way. I love going to a stadium and watching a game while I sit in the sun eating pork by-products.

So when some ass clown tarnishes the game I love, well, I get a little cranky about it.

When I was a kid I was the shortest, slowest, least athletically gifted person in my school. In all of the class pictures we were sorted shortest to tallest. I was always the shortest.
I was always picked last, and I always sucked at the game. You name it: dodgeball, kickball, softball, basketball, football...whatever it was, I blew.
As such, I eventually decided that watching sporting events, rather than playing, was a better way for me to spend my time. I can watch most sports most of the time, but my favorite is baseball.
I used to watch with my old man. Boxing was his favorite, but he liked baseball a lot too. We watched many a game together. Sometimes we'd have a game on while we played chess.

So when Pete Rose cheated and bet on baseball, I was offended by him. Charlie Hustle, they called him, the guy with the most hits ever and he'll probably never go to the Hall of Fame. I'm okay with that because he broke the rules of my favorite sport.

The last few years have been hard on baseball. A labor stoppage did a great amount of damage in the 90's. Ill-advised expansion made the talent level more shallow than the Kentucky gene pool. And now, finally, to my point.

To all of the players that used steroids or Human Growth Hormone or Creatine or whatever...

Shame on you.

You cheated.

I don't care if you've come clean about your past use. I don't care if you've used carefully worded apologies to beg forgivenss.

You cheated. You've tainted the game I love with your selfish actions. Please retire and go away so somebody with some integrity, some passion for keeping the game clean, can take your place and keep baseball pure.

As I write this, Barry Bonds is awaiting a perjury trial for allegedly lying about steroid use to a federal grand jury. Roger Clemens recently sat in a courtroom on Capitol Hill in Washington DC vehemently denying ever taking performance enhancing drugs. He may or may not be indicted for perjury. Guillermo Mota pitched for my favorite team, the Mets, and in 2007 he was suspended for 50 games because he took steroids. Since his return, he's been inconsistent, to be kind. I could go on and on with this list, but let me suffice it to say, I'd rather watch the game with less home runs and less power and feel better about the viewing experience. So take your denials, your balloony-cartoony muscles, and your heads that look akin to Butterball Turkeys and just fade away, willya? I'd rather see a rookie find his way with a little integrity than watch someone who can't let go so they take illegal drugs to help them stay in the limelight just a fraction of a second longer. Enjoy your back acne, your swollen head, and small penis and just disappear.

The game is bigger than any one person. It is bigger than any one scandal. The game will live on regardless of what players will do to get an edge. I look forward to a day when I don't have to wonder if someone is competing illegaly. I look forward to a clean game.

I'm doomed.

My DVR will be the death of me. I've only had this thing for a week and already I've got 61% of the hard drive filled (this after I deleted some stuff) and more scheduled to record.
One of the reasons I got this thing is because it's Turner Classic Movies annual February thing 30 Days of Oscar. What they do is show about 17 trillion Oscar winning films this month and I am recording old faves as well as things I've never seen.
Also I am recording Terminator: the Sarah Connor Chronicles as well as Breaking Bad and the occasional Celtics game I miss while at work.
*Sigh*
I haven't got much sleep because I'm always up watching shows because I don't want to run out of space.
On a positive note: I got to watch Duke beat North Carolina in college basketball while recording Vertigo. I hate UNC and I love Vertigo so this was a win/win for me.
I'm finishing this now so I can go watch something else.
Yeesh.

I steal ideas.

Two of my friends have blogs that I read and I am now stealing a list idea thing from them. Let the apologies land where they need to.

Four things I often say
1. What the?!
2. You're an idiot.
3. Pull my finger.
4. You wanna super-size that?

Four things that attract me to friends
1. Lack of clingyness
2. Lack of drama
3. Their taste in movies/music/books
4. Their hot mom.

Four songs or albums that I could listen to over and over
1. Cure - Disintigration
2. Public Enemy - Fear of a Black Planet
3. Underworld - Dirty Epic
4. Fujiya and Miyagi - Conductor 72 (I included this one because it's the most played song on my iTunes)

Four things you may not know about me
1. My thumbs are double-jointed
2. I am frightened by clowns (I blame this on Poltergeist)
3. I am frightened by mimes (I blame this on mimes)
4. Last year the Mets broke my heart

Four things I am passionate about
1. Screenplay writing
2. The First Amendment
3. Baseball, especially the Mets
4. Sleeping in

Four things I want to do before I die
1. Make a living as a writer
2. See all Major League Baseball parks
3. Live near/on the beach
4. Be thin again

Four books I have read recently
1. East of Eden - Steinbeck
2. Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas - Hunter S. Thompson
3. Fight Club - Chuck Palahniuk
4. Bottomfeeder - B. H. Fingerman