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.