I know that language is evolutionary and usage tends to trump history. That discourages me for the future, given the pervasiveness of stupid shortening of words induced by email and texting and what not (a friend of mine told me he was "totes jel" over the weekend [totally jealous, I think]; while he was being tongue in cheek, the fact that that is a joke to be made makes me feel like a cranky old man yelling for you to stay off my lawn). The one that seems to get me at a disproportionately high level compared to everyone else I know is begging the question.
It does not, traditionally, mean the same thing as raising the question. It is a logical fallacy where an unstated question of dubious validity is assumed to be true as part of the initial premise. For example, to say that Justin Bieber is better than John Lee Hooker because he has sold more records begs the question that selling records is a valid measure of musical goodness. And yes, I said records.
One that came up while listening to the Slate Political Gabfest (motto: 50 minutes of pretension every week!) was about "fixing" the constitution in response to a Texas Law Professor's blog at the New York Times. The basic assertion is that our government isn't very effective and the Constitution of a big part of why, so let's fix the Constitution so that the government can solve our problems; insisting that making ours more like a Parliamentary system would be preferable.
Now, this begs the question that effective government is a positive outcome. The solutions that we have gotten (especially recently) are not really evidence in favor of this. The complaint that the Constitution is difficult to amend is regarded as a weakness, and I think it is a strength, particularly given the animosity we see right now. This is essentially saying, "Because you disagree with the actions I want to take and the rules let you, we need to fix the rules because I'm smarter than you." It is ironic, too, that we call the people who believe this "liberals" these days.
Political moments like these are precisely the reason that the Constitution should be hard to amend. What would the fixes look like? If it's hard to pass as legislation, why should we want that to be institutionalized more permanently? Remember prohibition? It was stupid.
A lot of the discussion centers on the Senate, which is unrepresentative, by design. This is the only body I think that does need to be reformed. My fix: repeal the 17th Amendment. The direct election of senators has supplanted its whole purpose, which, of course, was to make legislation harder to pass. Everything that government does takes rights or powers away from somebody else. The Senate was supposed to serve as a backstop for the State Governments against the Federal Government, and now it doesn't. Now it's just a weird distortion of the House of Representatives, but with a bigger district. Also, the House districts are too big. The initial district size was 1 representative for every 30,000 people. At current population, there would be 10,000 representatives. Granted, that seems impractical, but at 435, that's way too small.
The biggest thing that irks me, though, is that those who want to strengthen government are driving the discussion so much better than those who are skeptical. The fact that publications can ask, "How do we 'fix' the Constitution" when it is function as intended without being utterly laughable is confounding. That we are discussing the fact that government might not be a never-ending source of benefits is, too.
The position asserted by Slate and Levinson requires a fundamental and dramatic reorganization of what "America" means and I'm just not sure that there's compelling evidence that's necessary, or even preferable if it were. In that same podcast, Emily Bazelon in particular has claimed that both parties are getting more extreme, but especially the Republicans. I don't think I can keep your attention any longer and argue with that, but I'll just say that that assertion, like the larger one about the Constitution earlier, requires using a target for the "center" as moving much faster than the public at large has and try to come back to that in a future post.
So, when we are becoming more divided, legislation is getting harder to pass, and politics is as rancorous as we can remember seems like an odd argument to make it easier to make sweeping changes, rather than harder. I mean, after all, these people bought more Justin Bieber records than John Lee Hooker records.
And progressives are suggesting we trust them to rewrite our Constitution? I beg to differ.
Showing posts with label confusion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label confusion. Show all posts
Sunday, June 03, 2012
Sunday, May 17, 2009
It is the green eyed monster which doth mock
My eyes look particularly green today. I don't mean that in the sense that they are buying reusable bags at Publix and using compact fluorescent light bulbs instead of incandescents (which raises [does not beg] the question, is the mercury used in a CFL less destructive than CO2?). I mean green in the sense of British racing green and green means go. I think I have narrowed the cause of this phenomenon down to two suspects:
Just to muddle any confusion further, the first choice leads to one of those dilemmas that allows crazy into the world, a la Pandora's Box. You know, if you say, "You look pretty today," that sounds like it is a change in condition. "Wow, you are normally easily confused with an angry warthog, but not today. Today you are worthy of appearing on a cardboard standee advertising chewing tobacco or beer." I am making a ruling: try to avoid fixating on the modifier in a case like that, unless it is especially insulting. For example:
- I am wearing a green shirt.
- My eyes are always greeen.
Just to muddle any confusion further, the first choice leads to one of those dilemmas that allows crazy into the world, a la Pandora's Box. You know, if you say, "You look pretty today," that sounds like it is a change in condition. "Wow, you are normally easily confused with an angry warthog, but not today. Today you are worthy of appearing on a cardboard standee advertising chewing tobacco or beer." I am making a ruling: try to avoid fixating on the modifier in a case like that, unless it is especially insulting. For example:
- GOOD: You smell nice today.
- BAD: Did you finally decide to bathe?
- GOOD: The dinner tonight was great.
- BAD: How come your other food is way crappier than this?
- GOOD: Nice hit!
- BAD: Going 1 for 10 still means you missed 9 times.
- GOOD: You look nice in that dress.
- BAD: You're fat.
Friday, February 06, 2009
Where's the third ring?
I'm pretty sure I'm not crazy on this one: I don't understand the Family Circus. I don't mean that it looks like Greek letters and alien shapes, I recognize that it's a comic composed of images and dialogue intended to portray a scene or story, but I can't figure out what the Family Circus's motivation or appeal is. It's not really a story. Is it because I don't have children? Is that why it seems like a waste of newspaper ink to me?
Let me clarify, though, that the Family Circus is not as maddeningly offensive as, say, Frank and Earnest. It's just confusing. Why is this comic so universally popular? Am I on crazy pills? Let me cite an example that I found on the family circus website, which if this blog ever gets readership I will probably have to take down or risk being sued:
When I say I don't understand it, it's not that I don't know what it's saying, even though for a Floridian the concept of icy sidewalks is about as familiar as tse tse flies biting Bengal Tigers while aborigines watch while playing the accordion. I have conceptual understanding that ice forms in the winter on sidewalks and it's slippery, increasing the risk of falling, or sliding, if you will. I get the "joke." Only, it's not a joke. This is a bad pun dressed up as cute because a child (presumably his?) said it. Aww, adorable. No. This is a newspaper. There is no room for adorable, Trixie Flagston aside.
I want to know who it is that looks for this everyday. I want to know if having children will make this comic seem less like something only boring people enjoy to something I look for all the time. If enjoying Family Circus is what I have to look forward to in parenthood, I am going to never stop drinking Mountain Dew.
Let me clarify, though, that the Family Circus is not as maddeningly offensive as, say, Frank and Earnest. It's just confusing. Why is this comic so universally popular? Am I on crazy pills? Let me cite an example that I found on the family circus website, which if this blog ever gets readership I will probably have to take down or risk being sued:
When I say I don't understand it, it's not that I don't know what it's saying, even though for a Floridian the concept of icy sidewalks is about as familiar as tse tse flies biting Bengal Tigers while aborigines watch while playing the accordion. I have conceptual understanding that ice forms in the winter on sidewalks and it's slippery, increasing the risk of falling, or sliding, if you will. I get the "joke." Only, it's not a joke. This is a bad pun dressed up as cute because a child (presumably his?) said it. Aww, adorable. No. This is a newspaper. There is no room for adorable, Trixie Flagston aside.
I want to know who it is that looks for this everyday. I want to know if having children will make this comic seem less like something only boring people enjoy to something I look for all the time. If enjoying Family Circus is what I have to look forward to in parenthood, I am going to never stop drinking Mountain Dew.
Monday, December 17, 2007
It's like my kryptonite
You folks already know about my various superpowers (if you have forgotten, you can read about them here, here and here. But it's only fair if I tell you about my superpowers I start mentioning some of my weaknesses. After all, I'm Observant, not vain. Well, not so vain that I think this blog is about me.
You might also remember that my purchasing cycle of underwear had reached an increased blip a few months ago, and I neglected to mention a key feature: the button fly. Up until that point, I had been rocking with just ordinary open fly boxers. There are, of course, pluses and minuses for both of those. The pluses of the button fly is that makes you feel fancy because they cost more and the button keeps your peep from popping out. The pluses of the open fly is that it doesn't have a damn button.
I didn't think this would be all that revolutionary before I found myself in the midst of this new sort of fly. But it is. The departure from open to button makes every trip to the urinal a furious race to open the fly, and that takes the experience of relieving oneself in a semi-public place to the next level of awkward. Especially if there is a line, because not only are you taking up valuable real estate, but you are fumbling with your hands on your underwear. Not only that, but afterwards, there is the effort of putting the button back in the eye. Sometimes you just have to abandon ship and forget about the button, reverting back to the open fly arrangement.
I feel, though, that while the button is inconvenient, I never know when I'll need it. Like if my pants are suddenly lost in a horrific tragedy involving a swarm of insects that eats khakis. I'd feel pretty silly in that case if my fly were unbuttoned, wouldn't I?
You might also remember that my purchasing cycle of underwear had reached an increased blip a few months ago, and I neglected to mention a key feature: the button fly. Up until that point, I had been rocking with just ordinary open fly boxers. There are, of course, pluses and minuses for both of those. The pluses of the button fly is that makes you feel fancy because they cost more and the button keeps your peep from popping out. The pluses of the open fly is that it doesn't have a damn button.
I didn't think this would be all that revolutionary before I found myself in the midst of this new sort of fly. But it is. The departure from open to button makes every trip to the urinal a furious race to open the fly, and that takes the experience of relieving oneself in a semi-public place to the next level of awkward. Especially if there is a line, because not only are you taking up valuable real estate, but you are fumbling with your hands on your underwear. Not only that, but afterwards, there is the effort of putting the button back in the eye. Sometimes you just have to abandon ship and forget about the button, reverting back to the open fly arrangement.
I feel, though, that while the button is inconvenient, I never know when I'll need it. Like if my pants are suddenly lost in a horrific tragedy involving a swarm of insects that eats khakis. I'd feel pretty silly in that case if my fly were unbuttoned, wouldn't I?
Thursday, August 09, 2007
Dream Caused by the Flight of a Bee around a Pomegranate a Second Before Awakening
I am mostly writing right now to record the events I have seen this evening so that tomorrow when I read them I can be sure they actually happened. You see, tonight is a bit of a surreal time for me. I am in the laboratory running a computer program I wrote for a class on three computers because they take way too long (I think I wrote them poorly, but that's not the point. They work, and because they work, I am going to be done with grad school). I will likely be here for a few more hours, and I am starting to have those bleary visions when you've had your contacts in too long and it looks foggy indoors. Also, I have had a mug of tea and a bottle of Vault, which I think is bad news GI-tractwise. I think perhaps 20 oz. of that stuff is too much for mortal men to consume in one sitting.
Anyway, I've been sitting here a while, playing a lot of Zuma as I keep an eye on my computers. I am going to save that Aztec frog if it's the last thing I do as a Clemson student. I have also made a few trips to the restroom (tea and Vault will go through you) and I feel the need to mention one of my neuroses that I don't think has come up: when I enter a stall, I don't like to see or be seen by anyone. I don't really know why, but I feel the need to be undercover when I'm behind closed doors. It's like Clark Kent's glasses, except more convincing.
You might think that this goal would be easy to achieve at 12:30 at night on a college campus during the summer on a Wednesday (Thursday?). It was not. Foreign graduate students tend not to buy (split infinitive narrowly averted) internet access at their apartments, because it is expensive. So at this time of night, you can find a lot of folks who have eaten way more rice than you probably ever will. While I have been waiting, one of my lab mates got into a shouting match in Chinese (I only know two words in Chinese, and I didn't hear either of them) and while in the bathroom, my cover was blown. I'm less concerned now about the fact that my cover was blown, but more along the lines of how I was detected in the men's room.
As I exited to wash my hands, there stood a Chinese graduate student over the sink with his head bent down. I caught it with corner of my eye (failure number one) and figured he was just washing his hair or face. If you spend a lot of time in the lab, a quick whore's bath isn't such a bad idea. Especially with this heat, I could probably use one by now. When I exited to wash my hands, though, I saw in more detail (and he saw me -- failures two and three) and he wasn't doing either of those things. He was shaving his head with what looked like a Gillette Mach 3. I have never watched anyone shave their head before, so I didn't really think about the role that shaving cream would play. But this soon to be bald Asian man was covered in it.
If this were an actual dream, I would have no idea what it would mean. Perhaps a preoccupation with the Chinese, since there was a lot of yelling in Chinese (which, interestingly, due to the intonation system makes many sentences sound like they are not really over when they stop talking) and a Happy Gilmore dream sequence surreal image. Hopefully, this insanity won't continue for too long.
Anyway, I've been sitting here a while, playing a lot of Zuma as I keep an eye on my computers. I am going to save that Aztec frog if it's the last thing I do as a Clemson student. I have also made a few trips to the restroom (tea and Vault will go through you) and I feel the need to mention one of my neuroses that I don't think has come up: when I enter a stall, I don't like to see or be seen by anyone. I don't really know why, but I feel the need to be undercover when I'm behind closed doors. It's like Clark Kent's glasses, except more convincing.
You might think that this goal would be easy to achieve at 12:30 at night on a college campus during the summer on a Wednesday (Thursday?). It was not. Foreign graduate students tend not to buy (split infinitive narrowly averted) internet access at their apartments, because it is expensive. So at this time of night, you can find a lot of folks who have eaten way more rice than you probably ever will. While I have been waiting, one of my lab mates got into a shouting match in Chinese (I only know two words in Chinese, and I didn't hear either of them) and while in the bathroom, my cover was blown. I'm less concerned now about the fact that my cover was blown, but more along the lines of how I was detected in the men's room.
As I exited to wash my hands, there stood a Chinese graduate student over the sink with his head bent down. I caught it with corner of my eye (failure number one) and figured he was just washing his hair or face. If you spend a lot of time in the lab, a quick whore's bath isn't such a bad idea. Especially with this heat, I could probably use one by now. When I exited to wash my hands, though, I saw in more detail (and he saw me -- failures two and three) and he wasn't doing either of those things. He was shaving his head with what looked like a Gillette Mach 3. I have never watched anyone shave their head before, so I didn't really think about the role that shaving cream would play. But this soon to be bald Asian man was covered in it.
If this were an actual dream, I would have no idea what it would mean. Perhaps a preoccupation with the Chinese, since there was a lot of yelling in Chinese (which, interestingly, due to the intonation system makes many sentences sound like they are not really over when they stop talking) and a Happy Gilmore dream sequence surreal image. Hopefully, this insanity won't continue for too long.
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Jeopardy! is strange sometimes
I am watching Jeopardy! right now. I like to include the exclamation point when I write it, because it makes me chuckle. If you happen to be watching it, or saw it last night, the winner might be the creepiest kid I've ever seen on television. And really, Jeopardy! often has it's share of folks with whom you probably wouldn't want to share a conversation and an ice cream. I have mixed opinions about this, because I never want to see this person again, but I also want everyone I know to get the chance to see this train wreck.
I was trying to convince somebody to turn on the program in order to look at this kid. The problem, though, is that Jeopardy! isn't always on at the same time, depending on where you live. Some places it's on at 7, others at 7:30. But that's pretty much it. Why do you suppose that is? Interestingly enough, my apartment gets the show at both times because we get the HD feed of ABC from New York. My roommate and I got to watch the political ads in the NJ race that re-elected a senator who was implied to be connected to the mafia. I hope that's couched in enough legalese that in case this blog ever gets popular, I don't want to be sued -- I don't know if he actually was, but the ad implied it, and really, he's in New Jersey, so come on.
None of this explains why local ABC affiliates haven't been able to coordinate and settle on a universal time for Jeopardy! and its bastard cousin, Wheel of Fortune. Really, I'd think that a show named after a Tarot card would be pretty cool. Wouldn't you watch a show called the Hanged Man? I know I would. This does allow for the possibility of a Jeopardy! racket where you can bet your friends and take their money. I could see a scene like in the movie Rounders where the protagonist walks into a darkened and seedy suburban media room and has to prove that he has an envelope full of cash and agrees to the house rules as to whether they have to say "What is" before calling out the answer.
*Good news, everybody -- Andrew won again. I encourage all of you to tune in tomorrow night, whether it's 7 or 7:30, and see this guy. I'm not sure if I can explain what it is exactly that makes me so uneasy to watch him on tv, but I am confident that you'll recognize it immediately when you see him. Also, somebody get him a suit that fits right.
I was trying to convince somebody to turn on the program in order to look at this kid. The problem, though, is that Jeopardy! isn't always on at the same time, depending on where you live. Some places it's on at 7, others at 7:30. But that's pretty much it. Why do you suppose that is? Interestingly enough, my apartment gets the show at both times because we get the HD feed of ABC from New York. My roommate and I got to watch the political ads in the NJ race that re-elected a senator who was implied to be connected to the mafia. I hope that's couched in enough legalese that in case this blog ever gets popular, I don't want to be sued -- I don't know if he actually was, but the ad implied it, and really, he's in New Jersey, so come on.
None of this explains why local ABC affiliates haven't been able to coordinate and settle on a universal time for Jeopardy! and its bastard cousin, Wheel of Fortune. Really, I'd think that a show named after a Tarot card would be pretty cool. Wouldn't you watch a show called the Hanged Man? I know I would. This does allow for the possibility of a Jeopardy! racket where you can bet your friends and take their money. I could see a scene like in the movie Rounders where the protagonist walks into a darkened and seedy suburban media room and has to prove that he has an envelope full of cash and agrees to the house rules as to whether they have to say "What is" before calling out the answer.
*Good news, everybody -- Andrew won again. I encourage all of you to tune in tomorrow night, whether it's 7 or 7:30, and see this guy. I'm not sure if I can explain what it is exactly that makes me so uneasy to watch him on tv, but I am confident that you'll recognize it immediately when you see him. Also, somebody get him a suit that fits right.
Sunday, May 06, 2007
Who decided what alphabetical order was, anyway
Everybody everywhere in America knows the ABC song. Isn't that weird? Everybody learned the alphabet by singing the letters to the tune of Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star. There isn't regional variation, there aren't political preferences, and the only dispute is whether to end with "now I know my ABCs" or "next won't you sing with me?" We can't even agree what to call soda (you Northern people with your "pop" are ludicrous), but everybody sings the alphabet the same way.
I was thinking about this when I was listening to Lord's Prayer, actually, and how everybody divides it the same way when they lead it in church. I know, I probably wasn't focused on the most appropriate thing at the time, but Our father,/ hallowed be thy name,/ thy kingdom come,/ thy will be done/ on earth/ as it is in heaven/ etc is always paused like that. Some of them make sense, like the first two, since they are offset by commas. Not all of them have to be that way. The Pledge of Allegiance is another one. I pledge allegiance/ to the flag/ of the United States of America,/ and to the republic/ for which it stands./ etc Again, some of them make sense. But, really, is "I pledge allegiance to the flag" so hard to remember or say that they need to be divided up? I submit that they are not. Although I do sometimes forget where I put my cell phone.
I want to see somebody take a risk with this. I want to hear about a church somewhere in Louisiana or something where a guy changes the rhythm and throws everybody off, resulting in a mutiny. Or a school where the leader changes things up a bit with the Pledge. It might make you think about what you're saying a little bit more, no? I always thought that saying the Pledge everyday was kind of cheap, since really, it's a Pledge of Allegiance. My allegiance doesn't change daily; otherwise it's kind of a useless pledge, isn't it? And really, for a while I kind of thought withlibertyandjusticeforall was one word when we started saying it when we were younger. I wouldn't mind seeing pauses that say with liberty/ and justice/ for/ all. To emphasize the good parts, you know.
Maybe somebody could do a dance remix of the alphabet song with different cadence to test my theory. I think it has some pretty serious market potential, really.
I was thinking about this when I was listening to Lord's Prayer, actually, and how everybody divides it the same way when they lead it in church. I know, I probably wasn't focused on the most appropriate thing at the time, but Our father,/ hallowed be thy name,/ thy kingdom come,/ thy will be done/ on earth/ as it is in heaven/ etc is always paused like that. Some of them make sense, like the first two, since they are offset by commas. Not all of them have to be that way. The Pledge of Allegiance is another one. I pledge allegiance/ to the flag/ of the United States of America,/ and to the republic/ for which it stands./ etc Again, some of them make sense. But, really, is "I pledge allegiance to the flag" so hard to remember or say that they need to be divided up? I submit that they are not. Although I do sometimes forget where I put my cell phone.
I want to see somebody take a risk with this. I want to hear about a church somewhere in Louisiana or something where a guy changes the rhythm and throws everybody off, resulting in a mutiny. Or a school where the leader changes things up a bit with the Pledge. It might make you think about what you're saying a little bit more, no? I always thought that saying the Pledge everyday was kind of cheap, since really, it's a Pledge of Allegiance. My allegiance doesn't change daily; otherwise it's kind of a useless pledge, isn't it? And really, for a while I kind of thought withlibertyandjusticeforall was one word when we started saying it when we were younger. I wouldn't mind seeing pauses that say with liberty/ and justice/ for/ all. To emphasize the good parts, you know.
Maybe somebody could do a dance remix of the alphabet song with different cadence to test my theory. I think it has some pretty serious market potential, really.
Friday, March 09, 2007
We'll have a sleepy time time
I'm pretty sure I'm a little bit defective. I have been for as long as I can remember. You know how on Saturdays you love to sleep in till like 1:30, wake up and have pop tarts for breakfast at 2, and then maybe even roll back into bed for another hour or so of sleep? I can't do that. It has nothing to do with pop tarts, I just can't sleep in very late. It's not for lack of trying or want, though, I can assure you that.
I usually get up during the week at around 8-8:30, unaided. On the weekends, if I stay out late, I can push it out to 9:30 or so, usually. I'm pretty sure this makes me a mutant. Except not a cool one, like Wolverine, but a dumb one with stupid powers, like Toad. I don't really know what I can do about it. Although I would have enjoyed sleeping in an extra or so this morning, I can't really say that I feel like I'm missing out on all that much. Except when I'm staying at a friend's place and I get up like an hour and a half earlier than they do I never know if it'd be rude to wake them up and make them go get lunch. Usually I'm hungry and it's noon by the time I get tired of waiting, so I want a hamburger and they want pop tarts.
I've never been able to get back to sleep once I'm awake, unless it's something like a mid-morning pee break. That's different, but I try not to turn on any bright lights because that does make getting back to sleep harder. Naps, though, were something that I had to learn how to take in college. I'm pretty sure I never took naps as a little kid and definitely not during high school. I also typically wake up in a confused stupor, especially when it's a long nap. So, really, if I am woken up from a nap by a phone call, they get theirs because I am pretty much incoherent. I imagine the way I act in that situation is a lot like a drunken bear would. Curious, confused and not yet angry enough to be aggressive. Also, I like to eat a lot of honey.
Anyway, this morning was a prime time to sleep in a little more than usual, but no. My body decided that 8:15 was the time to get up and it'd be damned if there was anything I could do to stop it. So instead of waking up right now (I'm not even asking for much!), I am awake and showered now. I'll have to figure out some way to get my body back later. Maybe I'll use roller coasters.
I usually get up during the week at around 8-8:30, unaided. On the weekends, if I stay out late, I can push it out to 9:30 or so, usually. I'm pretty sure this makes me a mutant. Except not a cool one, like Wolverine, but a dumb one with stupid powers, like Toad. I don't really know what I can do about it. Although I would have enjoyed sleeping in an extra or so this morning, I can't really say that I feel like I'm missing out on all that much. Except when I'm staying at a friend's place and I get up like an hour and a half earlier than they do I never know if it'd be rude to wake them up and make them go get lunch. Usually I'm hungry and it's noon by the time I get tired of waiting, so I want a hamburger and they want pop tarts.
I've never been able to get back to sleep once I'm awake, unless it's something like a mid-morning pee break. That's different, but I try not to turn on any bright lights because that does make getting back to sleep harder. Naps, though, were something that I had to learn how to take in college. I'm pretty sure I never took naps as a little kid and definitely not during high school. I also typically wake up in a confused stupor, especially when it's a long nap. So, really, if I am woken up from a nap by a phone call, they get theirs because I am pretty much incoherent. I imagine the way I act in that situation is a lot like a drunken bear would. Curious, confused and not yet angry enough to be aggressive. Also, I like to eat a lot of honey.
Anyway, this morning was a prime time to sleep in a little more than usual, but no. My body decided that 8:15 was the time to get up and it'd be damned if there was anything I could do to stop it. So instead of waking up right now (I'm not even asking for much!), I am awake and showered now. I'll have to figure out some way to get my body back later. Maybe I'll use roller coasters.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
I'm a little Lost
Whenever I watch television, I see commercials for a lot of shows that I have never seen, since I only watch like 4 programs. Here is a list of the ones I do watch: How I Met Your Mother, Studio 60, Boston Legal and Scrubs. There are a few others that I do watch, but they are due to proximity to those shows. Considering this list, there are, naturally a lot of shows I don't watch. Like CSI, and The Unit, for example. The Unit has probably the funniest name of any show on these days. Way funnier than Will & Grace, for example.
One of those shows that I see ads for all the time that I've never actually seen is one that is apparently rather popular with the kids these days -- Lost. I understand there's a polar bear involved, but that's really the extent of my knowledge. A couple of folks I know make a really big deal out of it, and but it really doesn't sound like the sort of show I could just jump into now. A few people have tried to convince me to pick up season one and catch up and join in, as if they were recruiting me to join a cult. I haven't felt this much pressure since The DaVinci Code came out. The thing is, what if I do decide to give it a watch, and I think it sucks? I've been told by someone whose literary opinion I respect that the DaVinci Code is a terribly written book. A sort of NSync in written form -- catchy, but ultimately without artistic merit.
Truthfully, I have no idea about Lost. (Other than the polar bear, I mean.) I don't know if it's a brilliant show or another iteration of something dumb but popular like Hee Haw. I guess there may be a little bitterness, since one of my shows is getting canceled. The Black Donnellys is looking like it will replace Studio 60 next week, and it gets a chance because the theme song includes bagpipes. That's a general rule of mine -- bagpipes gives chances. My guess, though, is that the people who watch Lost won't be watching The Black Donnellys either, so I'll still be left out. Although I can still make jokes about The Unit.
One of those shows that I see ads for all the time that I've never actually seen is one that is apparently rather popular with the kids these days -- Lost. I understand there's a polar bear involved, but that's really the extent of my knowledge. A couple of folks I know make a really big deal out of it, and but it really doesn't sound like the sort of show I could just jump into now. A few people have tried to convince me to pick up season one and catch up and join in, as if they were recruiting me to join a cult. I haven't felt this much pressure since The DaVinci Code came out. The thing is, what if I do decide to give it a watch, and I think it sucks? I've been told by someone whose literary opinion I respect that the DaVinci Code is a terribly written book. A sort of NSync in written form -- catchy, but ultimately without artistic merit.
Truthfully, I have no idea about Lost. (Other than the polar bear, I mean.) I don't know if it's a brilliant show or another iteration of something dumb but popular like Hee Haw. I guess there may be a little bitterness, since one of my shows is getting canceled. The Black Donnellys is looking like it will replace Studio 60 next week, and it gets a chance because the theme song includes bagpipes. That's a general rule of mine -- bagpipes gives chances. My guess, though, is that the people who watch Lost won't be watching The Black Donnellys either, so I'll still be left out. Although I can still make jokes about The Unit.
Monday, February 05, 2007
I don't know how long my hair is or should be
I am right at that point in my hair growth where I could probably use a haircut. However, I have an interview on Thursday, so I'm not sure it's a good idea to get a haircut tomorrow, since if it sucks, I'll look like a guy with a bad haircut. I wouldn't hire a guy with a bad haircut. The upside to being right tat that point is that I could probably go a little while with my current hair arrangement and be ok for a little while.
It's such a tenuous time, though. Like when you finish shaving and are wondering if it's time to lose the current blade and go to a new one. If you jump the gun, you're being wasteful; if you're too late, then you look foolish in public. A friend of mine basically told me once that if I have to ask if I need a haircut, I need to get one. I'll tell, you, though, I'm going to take the risk and wait it out for a few days. I live that close to the edge.
It's tricky, because I basically only know how to do one thing with my hair. I have no knowledge of gels or pomades, and I'm not even sure that, considering my hair, either one of those things would be a good idea. (I think there'd be no doubt, though, that I'd be a Dapper Dan man.) It does get old having the same hair all the time, but I feel like my hair is holding me hostage and I don't have a lot of choice in the matter anyway.
It's such a tenuous time, though. Like when you finish shaving and are wondering if it's time to lose the current blade and go to a new one. If you jump the gun, you're being wasteful; if you're too late, then you look foolish in public. A friend of mine basically told me once that if I have to ask if I need a haircut, I need to get one. I'll tell, you, though, I'm going to take the risk and wait it out for a few days. I live that close to the edge.
It's tricky, because I basically only know how to do one thing with my hair. I have no knowledge of gels or pomades, and I'm not even sure that, considering my hair, either one of those things would be a good idea. (I think there'd be no doubt, though, that I'd be a Dapper Dan man.) It does get old having the same hair all the time, but I feel like my hair is holding me hostage and I don't have a lot of choice in the matter anyway.
Monday, January 15, 2007
A flaw in our bathroom paradigm
I, like most people, use the bathroom on occasion. I also like to wash my hands when I finish. It's really what separates us from the animals; cats dig in the dirt around their business, dogs just leave it it and people wash their hands. People - 1, animals - 0. Then again, animals are delicious, so I guess a fairer score would be people - 1, animals - 1.
I'll bet all of you have been in a situation where you are wearing a suit and need to quickly lose some weight. (If you're a girl who doesn't wear suits, I have not idea if there is an appopriate analog. Also, I'm not sure there are any girls who read this anymore.) After just finish up and you're pulling up your pants, tucking in the shirt, and buttoning up, I realize that in order to do all of those things I had to use my hands. The very same hands which are unfit for contact with the outside world. Instead, we have all sorts of bathroom germs on our pants, shirts and (heaven forbid!) belts. I can't say I'm particularly comfortable with this realization.
We all would be pretty alarmed if we saw our waiter leave the bathroom without washing his or her hands, right? Or a guy offer to shake your hand without, at the very least, a rinse? But unless you're in one of those handicapped stalls with the sink in there with you, you are literally wearing those very same germs on your person. My pre-realization respect for these handicapped accessible stalls were limited to novelty sake of having the room, if necessary, to park my car in the stall with me. That's all changed now. I am absolutely going to take advantage of the interior sink to wash before tucking. I'm no barbarian.
Granted, I'm no microbiologist, so I have no idea if the germs will live or die on my shirt, pants or (heaven forbid!) belt. But I suspect they are building some sort of tunnel system not unlike Boston's subway for rapid transit to get after my socks or possibly even tie. I think we need to make a push of relocating the sinks in every bathroom to be inside the stalls. We can't let the animals win.
I'll bet all of you have been in a situation where you are wearing a suit and need to quickly lose some weight. (If you're a girl who doesn't wear suits, I have not idea if there is an appopriate analog. Also, I'm not sure there are any girls who read this anymore.) After just finish up and you're pulling up your pants, tucking in the shirt, and buttoning up, I realize that in order to do all of those things I had to use my hands. The very same hands which are unfit for contact with the outside world. Instead, we have all sorts of bathroom germs on our pants, shirts and (heaven forbid!) belts. I can't say I'm particularly comfortable with this realization.
We all would be pretty alarmed if we saw our waiter leave the bathroom without washing his or her hands, right? Or a guy offer to shake your hand without, at the very least, a rinse? But unless you're in one of those handicapped stalls with the sink in there with you, you are literally wearing those very same germs on your person. My pre-realization respect for these handicapped accessible stalls were limited to novelty sake of having the room, if necessary, to park my car in the stall with me. That's all changed now. I am absolutely going to take advantage of the interior sink to wash before tucking. I'm no barbarian.
Granted, I'm no microbiologist, so I have no idea if the germs will live or die on my shirt, pants or (heaven forbid!) belt. But I suspect they are building some sort of tunnel system not unlike Boston's subway for rapid transit to get after my socks or possibly even tie. I think we need to make a push of relocating the sinks in every bathroom to be inside the stalls. We can't let the animals win.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
What are we talking about again
Do you ever wish something that was socially acceptable that isn’t because you popped something in an odd place or dug something out of somewhere that came out in a funny shape? I sometimes do. I’m not going to tell you about what happened to me, because I don’t want your vision of my awesome to be tarnished by something socially unacceptable.
I do remember a story where my aunt was (proudly [not really]) telling a story about my uncle where he dug a hunk of wax out of his ear that was a perfect sphere. He, apparently, wondered this very same question, because she then proceeded to explain how he showed this artistic achievement to her.
I know there are people who compare farts, but that is actually pretty disgusting. I think it’d be a whole different ballgame, though, if farts didn’t stink. Do you really think they’d be all that objectionable if they were as inoffensively smelling as sneezes?
I’ve also come across people who are revolted by feet, which is sort of the opposite of what I’m thinking of here, but still weird enough to be mentioned, I think. I don’t feel any sort of animosity towards any particular body part. There are some that I like more than others (and I think you probably agree) but none that really offend me.
Anyway, I wanted to talk about something, but it’s not appropriate here, so I won’t go into it. Maybe we’ll talk more about potentially vile bodily functions, but not really.
I do remember a story where my aunt was (proudly [not really]) telling a story about my uncle where he dug a hunk of wax out of his ear that was a perfect sphere. He, apparently, wondered this very same question, because she then proceeded to explain how he showed this artistic achievement to her.
I know there are people who compare farts, but that is actually pretty disgusting. I think it’d be a whole different ballgame, though, if farts didn’t stink. Do you really think they’d be all that objectionable if they were as inoffensively smelling as sneezes?
I’ve also come across people who are revolted by feet, which is sort of the opposite of what I’m thinking of here, but still weird enough to be mentioned, I think. I don’t feel any sort of animosity towards any particular body part. There are some that I like more than others (and I think you probably agree) but none that really offend me.
Anyway, I wanted to talk about something, but it’s not appropriate here, so I won’t go into it. Maybe we’ll talk more about potentially vile bodily functions, but not really.
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
Even Hall and Oates?
If you ask ten people or so what kind of music they listen to, I would wager than about five of them will say, "Oh, I like all kinds of music." You know what I think? I think they're liars, that's what. Nobody listens to all kinds of music. There is something out there that makes you say, "I swear to God, if I have to hear another Boston song, I will commit an act of arson." Or, bagpipes. Lots of people hate bagpipes. Not me though; if I could figure out a way, I'd have bagpipes play (in this order) Auld Lang Syne, You Might Think by the Cars and Happy Birthday every year on my birthday. (My birthday is on New Year's Day, which explains Auld Lang Syne.)
But more than Boston, I think I am tired of the Eagles. I honestly can say that if I hear Take it Easy on the radio one more time I am going to burn down a gas station. Or library. But then again, this isn't about me, because I definitely do not listen to all kinds of music. I'm actually a little ashamed that my near encyclopaedic (I chose the British spelling to be extra pretentious) of classic rock music has not translated into an interest in current music. I'm working on it, though, I promise.
People who say they like all kinds of music probably don't really care that much about music as an art form. That's my conclusion. If you are equally at home listening to, say, Ashlee Simpson as you are Miles Davis or Eric Clapton or Juice Newton or Parliament or Ricky Martin, really, can your opinions on music be trusted? Can your opinions on anything be trusted? This has been a pretty italics heavy post so far.
Here's what I have to say about this whole ordeal: just man up and commit to music. The crazy thing is you don't have to be monogamous or anything! Why is this so hard? Are you worried that when you run for Congress, somebody's going to be offended you forgot to mention you like reggae? I am offering two possible actions that I think are reasonable the next time somebody says that they like all music: simply walk away, mid-sentence, or punch them in the side. I have a Peaceful Easy Feeling that this will work out great.
But more than Boston, I think I am tired of the Eagles. I honestly can say that if I hear Take it Easy on the radio one more time I am going to burn down a gas station. Or library. But then again, this isn't about me, because I definitely do not listen to all kinds of music. I'm actually a little ashamed that my near encyclopaedic (I chose the British spelling to be extra pretentious) of classic rock music has not translated into an interest in current music. I'm working on it, though, I promise.
People who say they like all kinds of music probably don't really care that much about music as an art form. That's my conclusion. If you are equally at home listening to, say, Ashlee Simpson as you are Miles Davis or Eric Clapton or Juice Newton or Parliament or Ricky Martin, really, can your opinions on music be trusted? Can your opinions on anything be trusted? This has been a pretty italics heavy post so far.
Here's what I have to say about this whole ordeal: just man up and commit to music. The crazy thing is you don't have to be monogamous or anything! Why is this so hard? Are you worried that when you run for Congress, somebody's going to be offended you forgot to mention you like reggae? I am offering two possible actions that I think are reasonable the next time somebody says that they like all music: simply walk away, mid-sentence, or punch them in the side. I have a Peaceful Easy Feeling that this will work out great.
Thursday, November 23, 2006
I ate 3.14 slices of pie today
Today, as you are probably aware, was Thanksgiving. Unless you're in Canada, then it was sometime last month. But I'm not, and I ate turkey and mashed potatoes and stuffing today. It was glorious. I'm so glad we do this every year. It's really too bad that the whole being thankful part of Thanksgiving is so minimized. Because I'm definitely thankful for gravy. And pie.
For some reason, nearly 50% of the people who were in attendance of my family's Thanksgiving festivities brought a pie. Or two. Or in some cases, more. The highlight was my brother's chocolate cheesecake, which was pretty spectacular. To properly capture it's spectacularity in words, I would say it's like when you get the white Toad's house in Mario 3. There were other pies too, so many that I didn't even get the chance to get to the pecan, which is easily my favorite of the holiday pies. I know what you're thinking right now, "What about that lovable gourd, pumpkin? Surely you didn't forget that! There's even a Charlie Brown special about pumpkins!" And you'd be right, I didn't forget. I just hate them. Pumpkin pies seem to me as if they were created as an industrial alternative to giving soldiers real dessert in World War I. I understand that this is probably heretical to a lot of you, and I am at peace with that.
I didn't get to the pecan pie because there was also a key lime pie in attendance, which is my goto dessert for the non-holiday times. There was even a homemade graham cracker crust involved, and honestly, I don't need Christmas now. So, considering that, key lime won out over pecan, even though it was a holiday. We also had cherry and mince meat and probably another that I'm forgetting. Cherry is a fine pie, but it's no apple; mince meat was an interesting choice because nobody on earth aside from my grandfather actually likes it. The highlight of this particular dessert, though, was that there was a rather lengthy debate about what mince meat actually is. There was unanimous agreement that raisins and currants were involved, but the presence of actual meat was disputed. I fall within the pro-meat camp; but don't misinterpret that to mean that I think it's a good idea.
Oh, also, I was awoken this morning much earlier than I would have liked to the sound of Christmas music. This is particularly poignant because just yesterday my mom was complaining about the ubiquitous nature of Christmas music so early. I was pretty sure that tomorrow, the day after Thanksgiving, is the first day it's legal to play Christmas music. But I think I'll let the early waking thing slide, since she also made the key lime pie.
For some reason, nearly 50% of the people who were in attendance of my family's Thanksgiving festivities brought a pie. Or two. Or in some cases, more. The highlight was my brother's chocolate cheesecake, which was pretty spectacular. To properly capture it's spectacularity in words, I would say it's like when you get the white Toad's house in Mario 3. There were other pies too, so many that I didn't even get the chance to get to the pecan, which is easily my favorite of the holiday pies. I know what you're thinking right now, "What about that lovable gourd, pumpkin? Surely you didn't forget that! There's even a Charlie Brown special about pumpkins!" And you'd be right, I didn't forget. I just hate them. Pumpkin pies seem to me as if they were created as an industrial alternative to giving soldiers real dessert in World War I. I understand that this is probably heretical to a lot of you, and I am at peace with that.
I didn't get to the pecan pie because there was also a key lime pie in attendance, which is my goto dessert for the non-holiday times. There was even a homemade graham cracker crust involved, and honestly, I don't need Christmas now. So, considering that, key lime won out over pecan, even though it was a holiday. We also had cherry and mince meat and probably another that I'm forgetting. Cherry is a fine pie, but it's no apple; mince meat was an interesting choice because nobody on earth aside from my grandfather actually likes it. The highlight of this particular dessert, though, was that there was a rather lengthy debate about what mince meat actually is. There was unanimous agreement that raisins and currants were involved, but the presence of actual meat was disputed. I fall within the pro-meat camp; but don't misinterpret that to mean that I think it's a good idea.
Oh, also, I was awoken this morning much earlier than I would have liked to the sound of Christmas music. This is particularly poignant because just yesterday my mom was complaining about the ubiquitous nature of Christmas music so early. I was pretty sure that tomorrow, the day after Thanksgiving, is the first day it's legal to play Christmas music. But I think I'll let the early waking thing slide, since she also made the key lime pie.
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
SRY IM L8
I just spent a good part of the past four days inside of a car on an interstate in one of three states in the southeast. Geography quiz: one of them was South Carolina and one of them was Florida, can you guess the other?
Now, this drive is boring. I suppose any 8 hour drive would be boring. There are only two places where I actually enjoyed the driving part: through Tennessee and to Key West. The scenery adds to the merriment in those two places. I was reminded while I was behind the wheel of my Ram how much I don't understand vanity plates. People actually go out of their way to pay their respective state governments extra money to put a little message on the backs of their cars. It's puzzling. The biggest drawback, I think, is that you can't rob a bank. I don't think I'll ever actually do that, but I'd like to have the option. But if the back of my car said ENGRSTD, then it'd be pretty easy to catch me. So I'm going to go with the quickpick whenever I buy a new car.
In order to pass the time on the 500 mile drive, I started to take note of the plates that I saw, and I'm going to comment on the best ones now. I hope I'm not breaking the law by publishing them.
I saw the first two right near each other, and they were the ones that really got me started on this project: I4PEACE and IM LATE. What in the world would possess someone to announce to the driving public IM LATE? I4PEACE I guess I understand a little better, but really, who's for war? Nobody is for war; even the people who are in favor of the war don't want war.
I saw a couple that I didn't know what they meant, like KREON and YARDNU. The only Kreon I know is from Oedipus, but that was spelled Creon, and I'm pretty sure that if he was real he's dead by now. And besides, Creon was killed by his son, who then went on to marry Jocasta, Creon's wife and Oedipus's mom, so that's not really the sort of thing that people would brag about, unlike TEAM DOC or FLYBOI. I saw TEAM DOC in the parking lot of the O'Connell Center at UF, so I suspect it was a trainer for the current National Champs or just a liar. I suspect Flyboi is a pilot, and used the less frequently seen spelling of boy, but I really wish he was a skater. I saw DUXNBUX up here, and I didn't get what that meant until my Wisconsonite roommate explained that it has something to do with hunting. Although it was a while ago, so I can't be positive that it wasn't BUXNDUX, but really, who cares.
The last two, though, are way better than any of these earlier ones. IM NONNI was on the back of some station wagon in Georgia, I think, that was driven by someone I can only imagine was Nonni. 4ALPACAS is a bit of a mystery, since 4 can be a stand-in for a variety of homophones. We can't be sure if this man owns four alpacas, is an advocate for alpacas of any number, or he frequently plays golf with the South American llama like creatures. Honestly, I'm in the golf camp because I think it's a little unrealistic that the guy would be advocate for alpacas.
I saw a few others, but they were even dumber than these. One girl in high school had MS GIRL except instead of girl, it was her actual name. I'm a little conflicted as to whether or not I should put her actual name on there. But if any of my readers out there have a vanity plate, please understand that this is all in jest when I say: I think you spent your money on an identifying mark that makes you look a little bit retarded.
Now, this drive is boring. I suppose any 8 hour drive would be boring. There are only two places where I actually enjoyed the driving part: through Tennessee and to Key West. The scenery adds to the merriment in those two places. I was reminded while I was behind the wheel of my Ram how much I don't understand vanity plates. People actually go out of their way to pay their respective state governments extra money to put a little message on the backs of their cars. It's puzzling. The biggest drawback, I think, is that you can't rob a bank. I don't think I'll ever actually do that, but I'd like to have the option. But if the back of my car said ENGRSTD, then it'd be pretty easy to catch me. So I'm going to go with the quickpick whenever I buy a new car.
In order to pass the time on the 500 mile drive, I started to take note of the plates that I saw, and I'm going to comment on the best ones now. I hope I'm not breaking the law by publishing them.
I saw the first two right near each other, and they were the ones that really got me started on this project: I4PEACE and IM LATE. What in the world would possess someone to announce to the driving public IM LATE? I4PEACE I guess I understand a little better, but really, who's for war? Nobody is for war; even the people who are in favor of the war don't want war.
I saw a couple that I didn't know what they meant, like KREON and YARDNU. The only Kreon I know is from Oedipus, but that was spelled Creon, and I'm pretty sure that if he was real he's dead by now. And besides, Creon was killed by his son, who then went on to marry Jocasta, Creon's wife and Oedipus's mom, so that's not really the sort of thing that people would brag about, unlike TEAM DOC or FLYBOI. I saw TEAM DOC in the parking lot of the O'Connell Center at UF, so I suspect it was a trainer for the current National Champs or just a liar. I suspect Flyboi is a pilot, and used the less frequently seen spelling of boy, but I really wish he was a skater. I saw DUXNBUX up here, and I didn't get what that meant until my Wisconsonite roommate explained that it has something to do with hunting. Although it was a while ago, so I can't be positive that it wasn't BUXNDUX, but really, who cares.
The last two, though, are way better than any of these earlier ones. IM NONNI was on the back of some station wagon in Georgia, I think, that was driven by someone I can only imagine was Nonni. 4ALPACAS is a bit of a mystery, since 4 can be a stand-in for a variety of homophones. We can't be sure if this man owns four alpacas, is an advocate for alpacas of any number, or he frequently plays golf with the South American llama like creatures. Honestly, I'm in the golf camp because I think it's a little unrealistic that the guy would be advocate for alpacas.
I saw a few others, but they were even dumber than these. One girl in high school had MS GIRL except instead of girl, it was her actual name. I'm a little conflicted as to whether or not I should put her actual name on there. But if any of my readers out there have a vanity plate, please understand that this is all in jest when I say: I think you spent your money on an identifying mark that makes you look a little bit retarded.
Sunday, August 27, 2006
Creatures of Habit
Do you ever do things like brush your teeth and then forget, only later to wonder if you brushed your teeth this morning? Actually, that was a bad example because when you brush your teeth you have that lingering fake peppermint taste in your mouth for like an hour. But something really habitual, mindless and reflexive to the point that you don't think about it anymore, like locking the car door or flushing the toilet. If you do your business in the bathroom and leave while drying your hands and step out and think, "Is my waste still lounging in that bowl, or did I send it on its merry way?" I don't think I've ever actually forgotten to do either of those things, but I sometimes forget that I actually did them. Isn't that weird?
I got back from watching a movie at a friend's place tonight, and wondered if I remembered to lock the front door before I left. I had no recollection of inserting my key into the lock to perform this act, much like I have no idea from where two pairs of my pants came. They are really shorts, but pants, to me, is a funnier word. Fortunately, I did not forget to lock the door. It's good, I guess, that I don't ever forget, but it's a little frightening, too, that I am capable of doing something to the point of not remembering if I did it. Could this apply to other things, less mundane and possibly more sinister? Could I have taken baseball bat to a Mercury Sable and simply have forgotten? Or robbed a Pakistani bank at gunpoint? I'd never know, because Pakistani money probably isn't worth that much; I wouldn't expect a huge lifestyle change after holding up one of those.
I hope, for all of your sakes, that I am not some sort of subconscious criminal genius. It would be kind of awesome, though, to be able to just have money appear in my apartment and I have no idea where I got it. I'd really prefer to remember how I got it, though. I'll try to sing a song or something for each of these frequently occurring events in my daily life, so that they'll stick out a little better. Although I've never forgotten to flush the toilet, that's not the sort of risk I'm prepared to take.
I got back from watching a movie at a friend's place tonight, and wondered if I remembered to lock the front door before I left. I had no recollection of inserting my key into the lock to perform this act, much like I have no idea from where two pairs of my pants came. They are really shorts, but pants, to me, is a funnier word. Fortunately, I did not forget to lock the door. It's good, I guess, that I don't ever forget, but it's a little frightening, too, that I am capable of doing something to the point of not remembering if I did it. Could this apply to other things, less mundane and possibly more sinister? Could I have taken baseball bat to a Mercury Sable and simply have forgotten? Or robbed a Pakistani bank at gunpoint? I'd never know, because Pakistani money probably isn't worth that much; I wouldn't expect a huge lifestyle change after holding up one of those.
I hope, for all of your sakes, that I am not some sort of subconscious criminal genius. It would be kind of awesome, though, to be able to just have money appear in my apartment and I have no idea where I got it. I'd really prefer to remember how I got it, though. I'll try to sing a song or something for each of these frequently occurring events in my daily life, so that they'll stick out a little better. Although I've never forgotten to flush the toilet, that's not the sort of risk I'm prepared to take.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Maybe a wig would be easier
I am on the fence about getting my hair cut. I've covered this topic, before, too, but I'll try not to repeat myself. I hate having to do it, because it's just too complicated. I never know what to ask for, I always forget how much it costs so I go in with like $50 (just in case) and it never looks the same the day you get it as it does the next day. I wish there was a construct your own haircut like the car websites have. That way I could choose between the sunfire red and gunmetal without making anybody uncomfortable.
In addition to the uncertainty with the process itself, I really have to wonder about the timing. Do I need one? Can I wait a few days? Would anyone notice if I did? Or are they laughing at my (comparatively) longish hair now? I really have gotten the same haircut for most of my days, with the exception of the AFROTC ones. I have very particular hair, not unlike a child who refuses to eat unless there are chicken nuggets in his spaghetti-os. My hair demands the cut I have now, or else I look retarded. As it stands now, I'm only ridiculous, which I think is a step above.
It's getting to the point where it's a little messy right now, though. I don't mind the length, so much as the unrulyness. If I cut a little some of the hairs off, though, that usually settles them down. It makes me feel like Stalin killing off peasants in Siberia. But, like those peasants, the hair always comes back. Maybe this would be easier if I had Stalin's hair.
In addition to the uncertainty with the process itself, I really have to wonder about the timing. Do I need one? Can I wait a few days? Would anyone notice if I did? Or are they laughing at my (comparatively) longish hair now? I really have gotten the same haircut for most of my days, with the exception of the AFROTC ones. I have very particular hair, not unlike a child who refuses to eat unless there are chicken nuggets in his spaghetti-os. My hair demands the cut I have now, or else I look retarded. As it stands now, I'm only ridiculous, which I think is a step above.
It's getting to the point where it's a little messy right now, though. I don't mind the length, so much as the unrulyness. If I cut a little some of the hairs off, though, that usually settles them down. It makes me feel like Stalin killing off peasants in Siberia. But, like those peasants, the hair always comes back. Maybe this would be easier if I had Stalin's hair.
Monday, August 14, 2006
A proportionate response
I don't feel like I'm exceeding the bounds of modesty when I say I'm a pretty good cook. If you think I am, I'm probably better than you, anyway. Although I'm only a journeyman with his particular recipe, one of the things in my repertoire is a delightful spaghetti sauce which can be placed on a variety of noodles -- whether they be stuffed shells, thin spaghetti or its fatter (but more fun) sister, regular spaghetti. The hotter spaghetti can be a real bitch sometimes.
The problem that always gets me when I decide to make spaghetti (with any noodle), though, is to get the right amount of noodles. They look so different when they are still raw then they do after you boil them, and even then, when you add the sauce it still can be much more food than I really need to eat. The amount leftover is usually some insignificant amount so that placing it in an entire Gladware container is just wasteful. So, I'll try to eat it and be uncomfortable for a while. That is to say nothing about my inability to match the amount of noodles with an appropriate amount of spaghetti sauce. Hey, I make the ingredients come out ok, I said nothing about presentation.
Now that I say that, though, I can't really decide which is more ridiculous: having the inability to judge proportions of noodles to sauce or the laziness to just keep eating rather than put it away. Maybe I should just give up this whole charade with thin spaghetti altogether.
The problem that always gets me when I decide to make spaghetti (with any noodle), though, is to get the right amount of noodles. They look so different when they are still raw then they do after you boil them, and even then, when you add the sauce it still can be much more food than I really need to eat. The amount leftover is usually some insignificant amount so that placing it in an entire Gladware container is just wasteful. So, I'll try to eat it and be uncomfortable for a while. That is to say nothing about my inability to match the amount of noodles with an appropriate amount of spaghetti sauce. Hey, I make the ingredients come out ok, I said nothing about presentation.
Now that I say that, though, I can't really decide which is more ridiculous: having the inability to judge proportions of noodles to sauce or the laziness to just keep eating rather than put it away. Maybe I should just give up this whole charade with thin spaghetti altogether.
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
The end of the world as we know it
I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that the stuff going on in the Middle East does not mean the world is about to end. I can tell that you're stunned already, but hear me out. The two sides involved can't even agree on who started what, so I think it might just be people who shoot stuff at each other shooting stuff at each other. It does stir up some excitement, though.
Those lovable scamps at the History Channel aren't even above taking advantage of the mood. The other night (last night?) I caught a special about the Anti-Christ. It showed megachurches in Colorado talking about Satan is probably literally alive on the earth now and building his army. The program did point out that people have been talking about the Anti-Christ for like 2000 years now -- essentially since the appearance of the regular Christ.
But what would we do if it was the end? What sorts of preparations does one make (let's forget the religious preparations for now, because really, making peace with the regular Christ would probably be high on many folks' lists)? Would you eat only cake frosting as fire rained from the sky? Or would you see how many peeps you could force down? Better yet, make mosaics out of the blocks that make up Hershey's chocolate bars, and the eat pieces of it, resulting in a comical picture? For some reason, all of my end of world fantasies involve eating foods that would otherwise make me fat later. I might also drive my car really fast over of a baseball field. That sounds awesome.
Those lovable scamps at the History Channel aren't even above taking advantage of the mood. The other night (last night?) I caught a special about the Anti-Christ. It showed megachurches in Colorado talking about Satan is probably literally alive on the earth now and building his army. The program did point out that people have been talking about the Anti-Christ for like 2000 years now -- essentially since the appearance of the regular Christ.
But what would we do if it was the end? What sorts of preparations does one make (let's forget the religious preparations for now, because really, making peace with the regular Christ would probably be high on many folks' lists)? Would you eat only cake frosting as fire rained from the sky? Or would you see how many peeps you could force down? Better yet, make mosaics out of the blocks that make up Hershey's chocolate bars, and the eat pieces of it, resulting in a comical picture? For some reason, all of my end of world fantasies involve eating foods that would otherwise make me fat later. I might also drive my car really fast over of a baseball field. That sounds awesome.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Can you make cool shapes with your fingernails?
They have laser hair removal so people don't have to shave ever again. It's usually for women who get tired of shaving their ladyparts or mustaches. I don't think it's as popular with men because they, like me, always have that nagging question about possibly shaping their sideburns into lightning bolts one day.
I wonder why they don't have a similar procedure for fingernails and toenails. This is one of my least favorite hygiene tasks, because it's so hard to schedule and remember. You don't do it everyday like teeth and contacts. Something has to draw my attention to my fingers, because I don't really think about them much. And they don't always grow at the same rate, so sometimes my ring finger needs it, but middle and index are rocking out just fine.
The toes are a whole different ballgame, because they go even slower. How often to you think about your toenails? About as often as you think about as often as you think about the obnoxious singer from Rush, which is not very often. Toenails are a bit more trouble, too, because the big toe's nail is thicker than the others and requires a heavier duty clipper, unless you want to spend 10 minutes per big toe. Not me, I'm no sucker.
The worst part of the whole ordeal is that somewhere, on some finger, there is an edge that isn't quite cut smooth, so it scratches its neighbor finger or catches on stuff, but you don't realize it until the next day or so. (The worst is a toe that gets caught on the inside of your sock, making the inside of your shoe fraught with peril -- just another reason to hate wearing shoes.) Then you have to go back and get the clippers out for one little piece. This really makes me feel like I live in the Middle Ages, because surely we can do better than this.
I wonder why they don't have a similar procedure for fingernails and toenails. This is one of my least favorite hygiene tasks, because it's so hard to schedule and remember. You don't do it everyday like teeth and contacts. Something has to draw my attention to my fingers, because I don't really think about them much. And they don't always grow at the same rate, so sometimes my ring finger needs it, but middle and index are rocking out just fine.
The toes are a whole different ballgame, because they go even slower. How often to you think about your toenails? About as often as you think about as often as you think about the obnoxious singer from Rush, which is not very often. Toenails are a bit more trouble, too, because the big toe's nail is thicker than the others and requires a heavier duty clipper, unless you want to spend 10 minutes per big toe. Not me, I'm no sucker.
The worst part of the whole ordeal is that somewhere, on some finger, there is an edge that isn't quite cut smooth, so it scratches its neighbor finger or catches on stuff, but you don't realize it until the next day or so. (The worst is a toe that gets caught on the inside of your sock, making the inside of your shoe fraught with peril -- just another reason to hate wearing shoes.) Then you have to go back and get the clippers out for one little piece. This really makes me feel like I live in the Middle Ages, because surely we can do better than this.
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