I am not much of a movie person. I would much rather go to a ball game than a movie. That being said, I saw "Wedding Crashers" this weekend. It was pretty funny, although I don't know if it lived up to all of the hype.
The thing I noticed right away is that Vince Vaughn is playing almost the same character he played in "Swingers". I mentioned that to my lady friend after the movie, to which she surprised me by saying that she had never seen "Swingers". So we went and rented it, and watched it after the movie.
My favorite scene in "Swingers" is when they are all playing the hockey video game. I have played this version of the game, and my friends and I acted exactly like those guys, even to the point where threats were made to do physically impossible insertions to each other. I was cracking up during that scene, while my lady friend looked at me like I was some kind of idiot. Oh well, must be a guy thing.
Anyhow, I am glad Vince Vaughn is back to doing comedies. He is much better suited for that. Besides, an Academy Award is overrated.
Sunday, July 31, 2005
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
Jam session
Tonight, I am starting a new adventure. I am playing in a new band. Yes, this old geeky guy plays in a band. And no, I don't play accordion. I used to play in a band a couple of years back. Unfortunately, one of the guys in the band had a kid, and since we practiced at his pad, the band kind of fell apart.
Even though I haven't been playing regularly, I still write music. I like writing the music more than the lyrics, so most of the songs have catchy tunes, with bizarre words. For example, one of my songs is about my theory that you can't run very fast with a hard on. Paul Simon, watch out.
So tonight, we are going to have a little jam session. Both of the guys are guys I have played with before, so we know each other. But the three of us have never played together all at once. It should be interesting. If nothing else, my bass skills should start getting better once I start playing regularly.
Oh, and for the record, the hobbit showed up at 11:30 yesterday.
Even though I haven't been playing regularly, I still write music. I like writing the music more than the lyrics, so most of the songs have catchy tunes, with bizarre words. For example, one of my songs is about my theory that you can't run very fast with a hard on. Paul Simon, watch out.
So tonight, we are going to have a little jam session. Both of the guys are guys I have played with before, so we know each other. But the three of us have never played together all at once. It should be interesting. If nothing else, my bass skills should start getting better once I start playing regularly.
Oh, and for the record, the hobbit showed up at 11:30 yesterday.
Tuesday, July 26, 2005
The Hobbit Update
Remember the hobbit? I posted about him here, here, and here. So far my attempts to get him fired have been fruitless. I am convinced he has pictures of someone important in a compromising position.
He has been told constantly about his late arrivals. We now have a policy that everyone has to be in by 10:00. Why? Because he never comes in until the afternoon. This policy has been in effect for about a month. During that time, he has come in before 10:00 twice. Twice! That is it.
My director had a talk with him last week, telling him to get it together. So take a guess what time he shows up, the first day after being talked to? 10:42. My boss is the biggest pussy in the world. He won't fire him, and the hobbit knows this.
Consider the fact that the hobbit is also the most annoying fuck on the planet, asks questions about EVERYTHING, and is worthless, and you can understand why I want him fired. The questions thing has become a running joke around the office. He asks questions that don't need to be asked. He is the true antithesis of the statement, "There is no such thing as a stupid question."
Just yesterday, I overheard this conversation between him and one of our co-workers.
Hobbit: I am going to Office Max, does anyone need anything?
Co-Worker: Could you pick up a couple of rolls of tape?
H: Scotch tape or packing tape?
CW: Now when have you ever seen me use packing tape?
H: How many do you need?
CW: (getting frustrated) Let's see, last time I checked, a couple meant two.
H: Do you want the dispensers, or just the refills?
CW: Shut the fuck up Bilbo, and just get me the goddamned tape!
Multiply this conversation about 100 times per day, and you will understand why we have such a short fuse with him.
I am keeping a spreadsheet on what time he shows up since he had his talk. At this point, I don't care if it makes me a snitch. I want him gone.
He has been told constantly about his late arrivals. We now have a policy that everyone has to be in by 10:00. Why? Because he never comes in until the afternoon. This policy has been in effect for about a month. During that time, he has come in before 10:00 twice. Twice! That is it.
My director had a talk with him last week, telling him to get it together. So take a guess what time he shows up, the first day after being talked to? 10:42. My boss is the biggest pussy in the world. He won't fire him, and the hobbit knows this.
Consider the fact that the hobbit is also the most annoying fuck on the planet, asks questions about EVERYTHING, and is worthless, and you can understand why I want him fired. The questions thing has become a running joke around the office. He asks questions that don't need to be asked. He is the true antithesis of the statement, "There is no such thing as a stupid question."
Just yesterday, I overheard this conversation between him and one of our co-workers.
Hobbit: I am going to Office Max, does anyone need anything?
Co-Worker: Could you pick up a couple of rolls of tape?
H: Scotch tape or packing tape?
CW: Now when have you ever seen me use packing tape?
H: How many do you need?
CW: (getting frustrated) Let's see, last time I checked, a couple meant two.
H: Do you want the dispensers, or just the refills?
CW: Shut the fuck up Bilbo, and just get me the goddamned tape!
Multiply this conversation about 100 times per day, and you will understand why we have such a short fuse with him.
I am keeping a spreadsheet on what time he shows up since he had his talk. At this point, I don't care if it makes me a snitch. I want him gone.
Monday, July 25, 2005
Blogs I Hate
From time to time, I like to use the "NEXT BLOG" button on the upper right and just go surfing away. I am hoping to find blogs I will add to my esteemed "Other Blogs I Like" list, but I usually find just a bunch of crap. So for the truckloads of people out there who are dying to make this list, let me give you some hints on what irritates the shit out of me with certain blogs.
1. Changing the cursor. This shouldn't bother me so much, but it does. What is wrong with the little arrow?
2. Those stupid message boxes. This is just retarded. I remember a website someone sent me to once that you had to click the message box about a hundred times. Now, even once, and I am looking for a flamethrower. If the message is so important, make it the title of your blog.
3. Blogs that play music. This might not be so bad, except the type of people that do this are the type of people that use the theme song to the Smurfs, or a crappy MIDI of The Cure as their music.
4. Blogs that are just advertisements. Which is about 80% of the blogs on Blogger. Do these things work? I find that hard to believe.
5. blogz that think they rool This drives me nuts. No caps, purposefully misspelled words. Shut the fuck up you l33t motherfuckers. I know this makes me sound like an uncool old guy, but I AM an uncool old guy, so fuck you.
6. Dark text on a black background. I know, I know, you are just showing your uniqueness. Your individuality. Whatever. I could shit in the middle of my living room. That's unique, but it doesn't mean you should do it.
7. Blogs that are just link lists. Once again, this probably wouldn't be so bad, if the links were interesting. But no, the links are generally to Yahoo news stories. Try telling me something I don't know. Maybe a link to, I don't know, I site I never heard of. Hint: I know about Google as well.
8. Whiny, depressing, "the whole world hates me" blogs. You know the type. These are the ones usually written by 13 year old girls, moping about some guy who doesn't even know they exist. These usually go hand-in-hand with numbers 1, 2, 3, and 6.
I am sure there are many, many more, but these are the ones that popped into my head. And I am sure there are things about my blog that annoy the piss out of people. Heck, there are things about my blog that annoy the piss out of ME! If I knew how to change it, I would, but I am HTML illiterate.
1. Changing the cursor. This shouldn't bother me so much, but it does. What is wrong with the little arrow?
2. Those stupid message boxes. This is just retarded. I remember a website someone sent me to once that you had to click the message box about a hundred times. Now, even once, and I am looking for a flamethrower. If the message is so important, make it the title of your blog.
3. Blogs that play music. This might not be so bad, except the type of people that do this are the type of people that use the theme song to the Smurfs, or a crappy MIDI of The Cure as their music.
4. Blogs that are just advertisements. Which is about 80% of the blogs on Blogger. Do these things work? I find that hard to believe.
5. blogz that think they rool This drives me nuts. No caps, purposefully misspelled words. Shut the fuck up you l33t motherfuckers. I know this makes me sound like an uncool old guy, but I AM an uncool old guy, so fuck you.
6. Dark text on a black background. I know, I know, you are just showing your uniqueness. Your individuality. Whatever. I could shit in the middle of my living room. That's unique, but it doesn't mean you should do it.
7. Blogs that are just link lists. Once again, this probably wouldn't be so bad, if the links were interesting. But no, the links are generally to Yahoo news stories. Try telling me something I don't know. Maybe a link to, I don't know, I site I never heard of. Hint: I know about Google as well.
8. Whiny, depressing, "the whole world hates me" blogs. You know the type. These are the ones usually written by 13 year old girls, moping about some guy who doesn't even know they exist. These usually go hand-in-hand with numbers 1, 2, 3, and 6.
I am sure there are many, many more, but these are the ones that popped into my head. And I am sure there are things about my blog that annoy the piss out of people. Heck, there are things about my blog that annoy the piss out of ME! If I knew how to change it, I would, but I am HTML illiterate.
Monday, July 04, 2005
Giveaway night at the ol' ballpark.
One of the conditions of my divorce is that my ex and I split which person has the girls on each of the holidays. In other words, she gets to have the girls this year for 4th of July. However, it was my normal weekend this weekend, so I had a plan. We have a local AAA baseball team here. They don't play tonight, but they played last night. Every year, they have a big 4th of July night (this year being on the 3rd), where they have a big fireworks show at the end of the game. It is one of the better places in town to watch fireworks. Every year for as long as I can remember, I have taken my daughters to the ballpark to watch the fireworks display. They love it, and so do I.
We went to the game last night. For whatever reason, I decided to buy a program. This was strange, because of the probably 50 times I have been to this ballpark, I never bought a program. There has been a lot of movement of players between the AAA club and the major league club, so I just wanted to see what the current roster was.
I was leafing through the program, when I noticed this...
There was a player's autograph on the ad. I got excited, because about three times per game, they announce "Turn to page so-and-so in your program. If you have so-and-so's autograph on the whatever ad, you win!" However, it being a Rooter King ad, I was a little wary about what the prize would be. I figured it would be some sort of a gift certificate to get work done. While maybe not the ideal prize, I suppose I could use some work. One of my toilets has been a little sluggish lately, so it wouldn't be a total waste.
Sure enough, in the fifth inning, they called out my ad. My youngest daughter and I excitedly went to guest relations to claim our prize. I felt like the dad in The Christmas Story, waiting to see what the fantastic prize was. Then, the lady gave me my prize. Here it is, in all its glory...
That's right, I was the proud winner of a plunger. Not just any plunger, a Rooter King plunger. I walked back disappointed to my seat. I finally win something, and it was a freakin' plunger. (Side note: The blogger spell checker wanted to replace freakin' with foreskin. I found the thought of a foreskin plunger very funny. Yes, I have the sense of humor of a 12 year old. Sue me). The people around me thought this was the funniest thing ever. It did, however, have that nice new plunger smell. Which I can assure you is MUCH better than used plunger smell.
Fast forward to late in the game. The home team was losing by three. They weren't hitting the ball at all. Desperate times call for desperate measures. It was at that point that I had a stroke of genius. Yes, it was time to bring out...
THE RALLY PLUNGER!!
I grabbed the plunger, and began to wave it around, cheering loudly. Everyone around me thought that I had lost my mind. My oldest daughter was predictably mortified, while my youngest thought it was kind of funny.
But strange things started happening. The first batter walked. Then the second batter got a hit, advancing the runner to third. I started making more noise, and waving my plunger around. Then, the next batter hit a pop up a mile high. I was jumping around, waving my plunger at the second baseman, making what can best be described as plunging sounds.
He dropped it!
Now everyone in my section was taking notice of the rally plunger. That ball never gets dropped. Never. Bases were loaded with no outs. Others around me were telling me to keeping plunging. The next batter gets a hit. Two runs score. We are now down by one, with runners on first and third, and nobody out. The other team changes pitchers. At this point, I have made my entire section believers in the power of the rally plunger. The stadium organ would play the CHARGE song, only we would all shout PLUNGE! And no, I wasn't drinking. I can't speak for the rest of the section, though.
The next batter hit into a double play, which wasn't good, but the runner on third scored, tying the game. Two outs, nobody on base. The crowd was going wild, at the nice comeback. Our section was going even wilder, due to the absurdity of the rally plunger.
At this point, I had an interesting conversation. A guy walking by sees my waving the plunger, generally going nuts. The conversation went like this...
Guy: What is that?
Me: It's a plunger.
(pause)
Guy: You brought a plunger to a baseball game?
Me: No, I won it.
(longer pause)
Guy (incredulously): You WON a plunger at a baseball game?
Me: Hey, I don't pick the prizes, I just win 'em!
The next batter comes up, and cranks it over the left field wall. Game over, comeback complete. The fans in my section all wanted to touch the magical rally plunger, but I kept it safe. Like King Arthur and Excaliber, only I could harness the powers within the rally plunger. In the wrong hands, it could be used for the powers of evil. However, unlike Excaliber, it doesn't have a catchy name. I might have to work on that one.
We went to the game last night. For whatever reason, I decided to buy a program. This was strange, because of the probably 50 times I have been to this ballpark, I never bought a program. There has been a lot of movement of players between the AAA club and the major league club, so I just wanted to see what the current roster was.
I was leafing through the program, when I noticed this...
There was a player's autograph on the ad. I got excited, because about three times per game, they announce "Turn to page so-and-so in your program. If you have so-and-so's autograph on the whatever ad, you win!" However, it being a Rooter King ad, I was a little wary about what the prize would be. I figured it would be some sort of a gift certificate to get work done. While maybe not the ideal prize, I suppose I could use some work. One of my toilets has been a little sluggish lately, so it wouldn't be a total waste.
Sure enough, in the fifth inning, they called out my ad. My youngest daughter and I excitedly went to guest relations to claim our prize. I felt like the dad in The Christmas Story, waiting to see what the fantastic prize was. Then, the lady gave me my prize. Here it is, in all its glory...
That's right, I was the proud winner of a plunger. Not just any plunger, a Rooter King plunger. I walked back disappointed to my seat. I finally win something, and it was a freakin' plunger. (Side note: The blogger spell checker wanted to replace freakin' with foreskin. I found the thought of a foreskin plunger very funny. Yes, I have the sense of humor of a 12 year old. Sue me). The people around me thought this was the funniest thing ever. It did, however, have that nice new plunger smell. Which I can assure you is MUCH better than used plunger smell.
Fast forward to late in the game. The home team was losing by three. They weren't hitting the ball at all. Desperate times call for desperate measures. It was at that point that I had a stroke of genius. Yes, it was time to bring out...
THE RALLY PLUNGER!!
I grabbed the plunger, and began to wave it around, cheering loudly. Everyone around me thought that I had lost my mind. My oldest daughter was predictably mortified, while my youngest thought it was kind of funny.
But strange things started happening. The first batter walked. Then the second batter got a hit, advancing the runner to third. I started making more noise, and waving my plunger around. Then, the next batter hit a pop up a mile high. I was jumping around, waving my plunger at the second baseman, making what can best be described as plunging sounds.
He dropped it!
Now everyone in my section was taking notice of the rally plunger. That ball never gets dropped. Never. Bases were loaded with no outs. Others around me were telling me to keeping plunging. The next batter gets a hit. Two runs score. We are now down by one, with runners on first and third, and nobody out. The other team changes pitchers. At this point, I have made my entire section believers in the power of the rally plunger. The stadium organ would play the CHARGE song, only we would all shout PLUNGE! And no, I wasn't drinking. I can't speak for the rest of the section, though.
The next batter hit into a double play, which wasn't good, but the runner on third scored, tying the game. Two outs, nobody on base. The crowd was going wild, at the nice comeback. Our section was going even wilder, due to the absurdity of the rally plunger.
At this point, I had an interesting conversation. A guy walking by sees my waving the plunger, generally going nuts. The conversation went like this...
Guy: What is that?
Me: It's a plunger.
(pause)
Guy: You brought a plunger to a baseball game?
Me: No, I won it.
(longer pause)
Guy (incredulously): You WON a plunger at a baseball game?
Me: Hey, I don't pick the prizes, I just win 'em!
The next batter comes up, and cranks it over the left field wall. Game over, comeback complete. The fans in my section all wanted to touch the magical rally plunger, but I kept it safe. Like King Arthur and Excaliber, only I could harness the powers within the rally plunger. In the wrong hands, it could be used for the powers of evil. However, unlike Excaliber, it doesn't have a catchy name. I might have to work on that one.
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