...But I am moving. I've found Tumblr suits my blogging purposes better, so I'm picking up and dropping my carry-on baggage there (because checking bags is far too expensive these days).
http://insrtcoins.tumblr.com/
http://insrtcoins.tumblr.com/
http://insrtcoins.tumblr.com/
word.
September 5, 2009
August 6, 2009
...
Adam Sandler, Chris Rock, Rob Schneider, and David Spade are ALL going to be in a movie called Grown Ups next year. Kill me. Please.
...I wish I was making this up...
...No, actually, I don't want my mind to be capable of producing such horrors...
...I wish I was making this up...
...No, actually, I don't want my mind to be capable of producing such horrors...
These Sequels are Coming in 2 Fast 2 Care
As useless as it may be to complain at this point, I feel I have to throw my chip on the pile. Fast & Furious is a terrible name for a sequel. For those of you not in the know (for which you should be applauded), the series is thusfar: The Fast and the Furious, 2 Fast 2 Furious, The Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift, and Fast & Furious. YOU CAN'T JUST NAME A SEQUEL THE SAME THING YOU NAMED THE ORIGINAL FILM! Oh, excuse me, you took out the "the"s. That makes it ok. Here are a few ideas I had for sequels to some of my favorite films:
Lord of Rings
Godfather
Pirates of Caribbean: Curse of Black Pearl
Day Earth Stood Still
Batman: Movie
Jerk
Phantom of Opera
Inherit Wind
Back to Future
and, of course, Room
Hey, I should get into this film industry...
Lord of Rings
Godfather
Pirates of Caribbean: Curse of Black Pearl
Day Earth Stood Still
Batman: Movie
Jerk
Phantom of Opera
Inherit Wind
Back to Future
and, of course, Room
Hey, I should get into this film industry...
June 29, 2009
Going Over Ladders Is Bad Luck Too...
I fell off of a ladder today. Not in a bad way. I didn't hurt myself. I hopped off and landed on my feet and got right back on, but it got me thinking. At what age does falling off a ladder stop being funny? As we all know, we hate getting that phone call from a relative with news that Grandpa has fallen off the ladder because we know that what is to follow is a list of broken bones and accounts of his hospital stay. As demonstrated in RiffTrax's short Down and Out, a 30 - 40 year old man falling off ladders is still very funny. So where is the cutoff point?
Everyone Is Dying
We've lost a number of celebrities in the last couple of weeks. It's almost a little depressing to wake up in the morning and see who else has died. I'm not usually one to really get worked up over celebrity deaths (I don't know them, after all, and people die everyday), but I was disappointed by the loss of Michael Jackson. He was a great performer and he really did a lot for music as a whole. He was a great musician who will be remembered for generations. He was the biggest superstar of our time.
One thing puzzles me, though. Why are people getting so bent out of shape about Billy Mays? I mean not to come across as being insensitive. It's sad when any human dies. But why would the death of Billy Mays raise so much attention? I mean ... what did he really do for humanity? Michael Jackson revolutionized pop music. Farrah Fawcett was a beloved actress for many, many years. No one had Billy Mays posters on their walls. No one went to Billy Mays record signings. Again, I mean no disrespect to the man. I'm sure he was a great fellow, but I'm not following the logic of the people greatly saddened by his passing.
Well...at least Bob Ross is still alive ... wait ... WHAT?! Bob Ross is dead?! WHAT?!! He's been dead for 14 years?!! Why doesn't anyone tell me this kind of thing?!
One thing puzzles me, though. Why are people getting so bent out of shape about Billy Mays? I mean not to come across as being insensitive. It's sad when any human dies. But why would the death of Billy Mays raise so much attention? I mean ... what did he really do for humanity? Michael Jackson revolutionized pop music. Farrah Fawcett was a beloved actress for many, many years. No one had Billy Mays posters on their walls. No one went to Billy Mays record signings. Again, I mean no disrespect to the man. I'm sure he was a great fellow, but I'm not following the logic of the people greatly saddened by his passing.
Well...at least Bob Ross is still alive ... wait ... WHAT?! Bob Ross is dead?! WHAT?!! He's been dead for 14 years?!! Why doesn't anyone tell me this kind of thing?!
June 24, 2009
My Opinion on Everything
It seems that I have a lot to say tonight. So many topics are pressing at my mind. Transformers didn’t really warrant a sequel. PETA should not be protecting insects, as their acronym won’t allow for it. I’ll pass on Wolverine, but I’d be first in line to see Spider-Man Origins: Bonesaw if you ever greenlit that one. With so much on my mind, I decided to target these issues logically and methodically. I will now give my opinions and thoughts on everything. Ever. In alphabetical order.
A: What a fine letter you are. Sturdy and majestic as a capital letter, but what has happened to your lower case self? Sometimes you sport a charming pompadour while other times you look like a lower case O with a cane. You’re not fooling anyone anymore. We know there are two of you doing one man’s job!
Aardvark: A charmingly silly name for a charmingly silly creature. All creatures should be named as fittingly. With that said, I propose we change the name of the “bear” to “braaaagggghhhfffftttmzmzmz”.
Aaron: Biblical names should be off-limits for pop singers. Next!
Aback: Congratulations on being the most messed up word in the English language. Being taken aback? I don’t even know where to begin diagramming that.
Abacus: You really dropped the ball on your plural form. Abacuses? You’re doing the English language a disservice. Abacai is the most fun to pronounce string of sounds ever uttered. Get on that.
Abaft: As an adverb meaning behind, I suppose it would be a bit of a stretch to work you into the niche of becoming another one of our growing number of slang words for the buttocks to be used by rappers and pop singers, but it would certainly liven the proceedings.
Abalone: Something that slimy and mollusky should not sound that delicious on a menu.
Abandon: Abandoning something is cold-hearted, and even the word knows it. There’s no way to say the word without sounding cold. Just try it.
Abase: You and abate mean pretty much the same thing. Why don’t you just buddy up and become one word?
Abash: Outside of the term “unabashedly”, this word is not safe for everyday use. Anyone who claims that another has “abashed” them when only slightly embarrassed just set the inflictor up for much more than they had coming.
Abate: See abase.
Abattoir: Could you think of a classier word to mean “slaughterhouse”? I have a sneaking suspicion this word was created by the Hannibal Lecter-type intelligent and charming serial killers just so they could have somewhere ironic to invite their victims before … ehm … for more see my entries on bludgeoning, strangling, and balloon animals.
ABBA: It’s an acronym. They’re not named after the Semitic word for “father”. Hip preachers everywhere: stop making references!
Abbé: We dedicated an entire word to just describing French priests? Unless every nationality of priests are represented in the English language, I’ll have to cry foul on this move. It hardly seems fair.
Abbess: When you have to explain what your title means every time you introduce yourself, why create a title in the first place?
Abbey: God is still bitter that the Beatles have singlehandedly wiped the religious implications from this word in the American subconscious, as they did with the verse of the Holy book Proverbs 3:2, “Baby, you can drive my car. Beep beep. Beep beep. Yeah.”
Abbot: Not just for Costelloes anymore. The word is 1100 years old. The reference is 70. My 19 year old frame of consciousness cannot distinguish a difference.
Abbreviation: The abbreviation key at the beginning of any encyclopedia or dictionary is where most ghost story writers get the names for their daemons.
Abdicate: Even the word screams “You can’t fire me. I quit!”
…Wow…there are a lot more things in existence than I thought possible. There has to be a better way to do this…
A: What a fine letter you are. Sturdy and majestic as a capital letter, but what has happened to your lower case self? Sometimes you sport a charming pompadour while other times you look like a lower case O with a cane. You’re not fooling anyone anymore. We know there are two of you doing one man’s job!
Aardvark: A charmingly silly name for a charmingly silly creature. All creatures should be named as fittingly. With that said, I propose we change the name of the “bear” to “braaaagggghhhfffftttmzmzmz”.
Aaron: Biblical names should be off-limits for pop singers. Next!
Aback: Congratulations on being the most messed up word in the English language. Being taken aback? I don’t even know where to begin diagramming that.
Abacus: You really dropped the ball on your plural form. Abacuses? You’re doing the English language a disservice. Abacai is the most fun to pronounce string of sounds ever uttered. Get on that.
Abaft: As an adverb meaning behind, I suppose it would be a bit of a stretch to work you into the niche of becoming another one of our growing number of slang words for the buttocks to be used by rappers and pop singers, but it would certainly liven the proceedings.
Abalone: Something that slimy and mollusky should not sound that delicious on a menu.
Abandon: Abandoning something is cold-hearted, and even the word knows it. There’s no way to say the word without sounding cold. Just try it.
Abase: You and abate mean pretty much the same thing. Why don’t you just buddy up and become one word?
Abash: Outside of the term “unabashedly”, this word is not safe for everyday use. Anyone who claims that another has “abashed” them when only slightly embarrassed just set the inflictor up for much more than they had coming.
Abate: See abase.
Abattoir: Could you think of a classier word to mean “slaughterhouse”? I have a sneaking suspicion this word was created by the Hannibal Lecter-type intelligent and charming serial killers just so they could have somewhere ironic to invite their victims before … ehm … for more see my entries on bludgeoning, strangling, and balloon animals.
ABBA: It’s an acronym. They’re not named after the Semitic word for “father”. Hip preachers everywhere: stop making references!
Abbé: We dedicated an entire word to just describing French priests? Unless every nationality of priests are represented in the English language, I’ll have to cry foul on this move. It hardly seems fair.
Abbess: When you have to explain what your title means every time you introduce yourself, why create a title in the first place?
Abbey: God is still bitter that the Beatles have singlehandedly wiped the religious implications from this word in the American subconscious, as they did with the verse of the Holy book Proverbs 3:2, “Baby, you can drive my car. Beep beep. Beep beep. Yeah.”
Abbot: Not just for Costelloes anymore. The word is 1100 years old. The reference is 70. My 19 year old frame of consciousness cannot distinguish a difference.
Abbreviation: The abbreviation key at the beginning of any encyclopedia or dictionary is where most ghost story writers get the names for their daemons.
Abdicate: Even the word screams “You can’t fire me. I quit!”
…Wow…there are a lot more things in existence than I thought possible. There has to be a better way to do this…
June 23, 2009
The Road to Redmond
I inadvertently stumbled into another fun adventure today. I had some errands to run up at the Redmond Town Center, which I don't believe I have ever been to before. Google Maps assured me that the journey would take about half an hour and that I need only follow the unicorns and gumdrops to my final destination. No need to worry, right?
One can only be so lost at any given time and, all things considered, I'd count today's achievement in spatial unawareness quite impressive. I confidently pull out of my driveway playing some Maroon 5, sure I was on my way to Redmond. Little did I know that a wrong turn at Albuquerque would place me on a highway to the Twilight Zone.
Dramatic buildup aside, my journey looked pretty easy from what Google told me. Take the I-405 north to the 520 east which will spit you out right where you need to be. Only I could screw this up so fantastically. My trouble came when I had to merge onto the 520 east. It was one of those short ramps that spits you straight into an exit lane that deviates from the course so quickly that you don't have time to assess where in time and space you are. So before I knew it, I was off of the highway and in some sort of geographic anomaly: a town with a 520E exit and no 520E re-entrance. I guess people in this town don't like to go east. Perhaps the area's tribe was at war with the next tribe to the east when the highway system was built. Regardless, it didn't help me out. Refusing to believe that such a horrid place existed, though, I searched for at least half an hour through this town to try and find my way back onto the road. By this time, I was already running out of Maroon 5 songs that I really liked.
After snaking my way stupidly back and forth many times, I decided that it was humanly impossible to go east from this point. I had reached one of the fabled ends of the Earth, bordered only by a vacuous void of infinite nothingness. Like the Lawrence of Arabia, I stepped off of my camel, looked down at my compass, up again at the sun, and decided to reroute my journey west, in hopes of finding a settlement lest hostile toward their eastward neighbors. On, my car. Google be damned. I'm taking this trip into my own hands. At this time, I realized my car was aching for gas.
Flying down the 520W in a carriage pulled by an ever tiring horse, I was counting on my last drops of gasoline to take me to Redmond. Finding a turnaround at the next exit was easy enough, and before long I was back on the right path. Keeping a watchful eye on the exit names, I was feeling more confident that my adventure had passed its suspenseful climax and I could ride the gently tapering story arc comfortably back to the land of magic and rainbows that Google had promised me.
Consider the following statement preemptively retracted, as it is not in the least bit true but it does give fitting character to my story: I could not have been happier to see the road sign inviting me to take the impending W Lake Samamish exit. Beautiful. As would be my luck, though, its siren call led me into a labyrinth of one way streets and oddly-angled corners even Google itself could not circumvent. The roads would whisper to me as I pulled to a stop at the lights, "Oh, by the way, this is a left turn only lane", and what could I say to that? Shaking my head, I followed their instruction and searched for a way to get back on track. But like the Harry Potter staircases, the route that I had been searching for seemed to have shifted and contorted itself beyond recognition and I was, again, hopelessly lost.
Using this opportunity to refuel my thirsty automobile (a gesture of which my car was far more thankful than my billfold), I just decided to drive in what I thought would be the right direction. Following the wisdom of the late Obi Wan Kenobi, I turned off my targeting computer and followed my instincts and feelings. Surprisingly, I found the street I was looking for. At this point, I could not care less what the directions read. I followed that road until I arrived at what I thought was the Redmond Town Center.
Think what I may, though, it turned out to only be a cleverly disguised doppelganger of my destination. A small, outdoor assortment of shops and restaurants seemed quite promising, until I realized that something wasn't quite right about it. The place I was looking for was nowhere to be found. Asking a few shop owners of the location of my destination, they gave either bad directions or replied with innocent sounding "I don't know"s. Looking back, though, I can hardly blame them from wanting to keep me out of the proper Town Center, as their operation stands not much of a chance when sitting so close to the behemoth of an outdoor mall that was the Redmond Town Center. Finally, a kindly pet store owner gave me the wise and insightful advice to go across the train tracks. I was not in the Redmond Town Center at all. Feeling that a trust between her and the miniature shopping mall had been broken, I thanked her and exited to another wandering leg of my journey.
"Potential business was walking away," thought the shopping center. "His money is good at any of our fine establishments". No, oh brotherhood of shopkeeps and employees. I was on a mission, and I was not about to be distracted from my final goal after all I had been through.
Looking down at my phone, excitedly hurrying over to what I was sure was my final destination, I realized something. It was 20 minutes until closing time. Don't fail me now, Redmond. Stepping into the Town Center, I looked around and marveled at the fact that such a cool, southern California hangout-looking place existed in my area and I had not known about it. I did not come this far to lose my focus, though, so I proceeded forwards into the Center. I was done playing games. It was time for business...
My wish for "business" was blessed bountifully, but not in the way I had intended. Businesses galore surrounded me. I had 20 minutes to make it to my destination and no idea where to start looking. I happened upon a mall directory, but it was of little use to me. They had neglected to indicate where I was presently standing or which direction I was facing, and the Town Center was almost symmetrical, and I knew not which side of the map I had entered from. My only choice was to again follow instinct and try to find my way. (I could not be arsed to translate their A201, E505, B127 codes and identify my neighboring shops, giving myself a point of reference. No, I was racing against the clock and was not about to take "too late, bucko" for an answer.
The fortunes were smiling upon this leg of the journey, though, as my initial direction turned out to lead me where I needed to be. At the end of a long row of buildings, I saw the name of the establishment I wanted to visit. Being slightly near-sighted was actually quite opportune for this moment, as the slightly blurry logo slowly coming into focus as I walked ever faster and faster towards its doors, gave this moment a film ending-like dramatic tension and relief. God is the great orchestrator of life's adventures, and eyestrain is His majestic brush!
Sweaty, razzled, and tired, I lurched into the building and quickly got what I needed. No unnecessary drama slowed me down. I almost forgot to sign my credit card receipt, but I cared little. My quest had been accomplished. The paperwork could not mean less to me at this time. Hell, keep my credit card! All I want right now is to sit down and take a nap.
Settling for the next best thing, I basked in my victory by treating myself to some delicious Cold Stone ice cream and a bench overlooking the Center. Everything had worked out alright after all. My journey was over. All I had to do was make it home alive, and I'd consider the day a success. As you can imply, I was able to deliver myself without as much as a headache to my homestead, to be greeted by my family visiting from California. Everything turned out pretty damn good.
I actually do like getting lost and finding my way around. The stress and confusion don't bother me, but instead give me life and incentive to find the next correct turn. Although this may sound like the average person's nightmare journey, I wish I could have adventures like this every day. I regret nothing.
One can only be so lost at any given time and, all things considered, I'd count today's achievement in spatial unawareness quite impressive. I confidently pull out of my driveway playing some Maroon 5, sure I was on my way to Redmond. Little did I know that a wrong turn at Albuquerque would place me on a highway to the Twilight Zone.
Dramatic buildup aside, my journey looked pretty easy from what Google told me. Take the I-405 north to the 520 east which will spit you out right where you need to be. Only I could screw this up so fantastically. My trouble came when I had to merge onto the 520 east. It was one of those short ramps that spits you straight into an exit lane that deviates from the course so quickly that you don't have time to assess where in time and space you are. So before I knew it, I was off of the highway and in some sort of geographic anomaly: a town with a 520E exit and no 520E re-entrance. I guess people in this town don't like to go east. Perhaps the area's tribe was at war with the next tribe to the east when the highway system was built. Regardless, it didn't help me out. Refusing to believe that such a horrid place existed, though, I searched for at least half an hour through this town to try and find my way back onto the road. By this time, I was already running out of Maroon 5 songs that I really liked.
After snaking my way stupidly back and forth many times, I decided that it was humanly impossible to go east from this point. I had reached one of the fabled ends of the Earth, bordered only by a vacuous void of infinite nothingness. Like the Lawrence of Arabia, I stepped off of my camel, looked down at my compass, up again at the sun, and decided to reroute my journey west, in hopes of finding a settlement lest hostile toward their eastward neighbors. On, my car. Google be damned. I'm taking this trip into my own hands. At this time, I realized my car was aching for gas.
Flying down the 520W in a carriage pulled by an ever tiring horse, I was counting on my last drops of gasoline to take me to Redmond. Finding a turnaround at the next exit was easy enough, and before long I was back on the right path. Keeping a watchful eye on the exit names, I was feeling more confident that my adventure had passed its suspenseful climax and I could ride the gently tapering story arc comfortably back to the land of magic and rainbows that Google had promised me.
Consider the following statement preemptively retracted, as it is not in the least bit true but it does give fitting character to my story: I could not have been happier to see the road sign inviting me to take the impending W Lake Samamish exit. Beautiful. As would be my luck, though, its siren call led me into a labyrinth of one way streets and oddly-angled corners even Google itself could not circumvent. The roads would whisper to me as I pulled to a stop at the lights, "Oh, by the way, this is a left turn only lane", and what could I say to that? Shaking my head, I followed their instruction and searched for a way to get back on track. But like the Harry Potter staircases, the route that I had been searching for seemed to have shifted and contorted itself beyond recognition and I was, again, hopelessly lost.
Using this opportunity to refuel my thirsty automobile (a gesture of which my car was far more thankful than my billfold), I just decided to drive in what I thought would be the right direction. Following the wisdom of the late Obi Wan Kenobi, I turned off my targeting computer and followed my instincts and feelings. Surprisingly, I found the street I was looking for. At this point, I could not care less what the directions read. I followed that road until I arrived at what I thought was the Redmond Town Center.
Think what I may, though, it turned out to only be a cleverly disguised doppelganger of my destination. A small, outdoor assortment of shops and restaurants seemed quite promising, until I realized that something wasn't quite right about it. The place I was looking for was nowhere to be found. Asking a few shop owners of the location of my destination, they gave either bad directions or replied with innocent sounding "I don't know"s. Looking back, though, I can hardly blame them from wanting to keep me out of the proper Town Center, as their operation stands not much of a chance when sitting so close to the behemoth of an outdoor mall that was the Redmond Town Center. Finally, a kindly pet store owner gave me the wise and insightful advice to go across the train tracks. I was not in the Redmond Town Center at all. Feeling that a trust between her and the miniature shopping mall had been broken, I thanked her and exited to another wandering leg of my journey.
"Potential business was walking away," thought the shopping center. "His money is good at any of our fine establishments". No, oh brotherhood of shopkeeps and employees. I was on a mission, and I was not about to be distracted from my final goal after all I had been through.
Looking down at my phone, excitedly hurrying over to what I was sure was my final destination, I realized something. It was 20 minutes until closing time. Don't fail me now, Redmond. Stepping into the Town Center, I looked around and marveled at the fact that such a cool, southern California hangout-looking place existed in my area and I had not known about it. I did not come this far to lose my focus, though, so I proceeded forwards into the Center. I was done playing games. It was time for business...
My wish for "business" was blessed bountifully, but not in the way I had intended. Businesses galore surrounded me. I had 20 minutes to make it to my destination and no idea where to start looking. I happened upon a mall directory, but it was of little use to me. They had neglected to indicate where I was presently standing or which direction I was facing, and the Town Center was almost symmetrical, and I knew not which side of the map I had entered from. My only choice was to again follow instinct and try to find my way. (I could not be arsed to translate their A201, E505, B127 codes and identify my neighboring shops, giving myself a point of reference. No, I was racing against the clock and was not about to take "too late, bucko" for an answer.
The fortunes were smiling upon this leg of the journey, though, as my initial direction turned out to lead me where I needed to be. At the end of a long row of buildings, I saw the name of the establishment I wanted to visit. Being slightly near-sighted was actually quite opportune for this moment, as the slightly blurry logo slowly coming into focus as I walked ever faster and faster towards its doors, gave this moment a film ending-like dramatic tension and relief. God is the great orchestrator of life's adventures, and eyestrain is His majestic brush!
Sweaty, razzled, and tired, I lurched into the building and quickly got what I needed. No unnecessary drama slowed me down. I almost forgot to sign my credit card receipt, but I cared little. My quest had been accomplished. The paperwork could not mean less to me at this time. Hell, keep my credit card! All I want right now is to sit down and take a nap.
Settling for the next best thing, I basked in my victory by treating myself to some delicious Cold Stone ice cream and a bench overlooking the Center. Everything had worked out alright after all. My journey was over. All I had to do was make it home alive, and I'd consider the day a success. As you can imply, I was able to deliver myself without as much as a headache to my homestead, to be greeted by my family visiting from California. Everything turned out pretty damn good.
I actually do like getting lost and finding my way around. The stress and confusion don't bother me, but instead give me life and incentive to find the next correct turn. Although this may sound like the average person's nightmare journey, I wish I could have adventures like this every day. I regret nothing.
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