Why We Need Birth Control
No public transit system should have to employ human-packers. I mean, I like Pokemon and all, but eff that.
May 12, 2008
April 23, 2008
Nasreddin teaches the donkey to speak...
It's been some time since I updated the blog. Let's have a brief recap, shall we?
My new girlfriend continues to stick around and lick my skull (see above-right). She kicks ass like a dual-Thunderfury ninja on energy drinks.
My unemployment is over. I now know many more central Asian parables than before, thanks to Dr. Boris Krakov, my Uzbeki spirit guide.
Sketch comedy continues, and I should be performing at the LA Comedy Fest if nothing explodes.
And a great big WTF to the writers of BSG. How dare you do what you did when you did that thing that you did? I'm trying to avoid spoiling it for anyone who hasn't seen it, but doods--you halved the female eye candy in about 4 minutes. How dare you? And without any Summer Glau or Jewel Staite for me to fall back on. Cruel.
March 21, 2008
I Love The Onion
March 4, 2008
R.I.P. Gary Gygax
MILWAUKEE, Wisconsin (AP) -- Gary Gygax, who co-created the fantasy game Dungeons & Dragons and helped start the role-playing phenomenon, died Tuesday morning at his home in Lake Geneva. He was 69.
He had been suffering from health problems for several years, including an abdominal aneurysm, said his wife, Gail Gygax.
Gygax and Dave Arneson developed Dungeons & Dragons in 1974 using medieval characters and mythical creatures. The game known for its oddly shaped dice became a hit, particularly among teenage boys, and eventually was turned into video games, books and movies.
Gygax always enjoyed hearing from the game's legion of devoted fans, many of whom would stop by the family's home in Lake Geneva, about 55 miles southwest of Milwaukee, his wife said. Despite his declining health, he hosted weekly games of Dungeons & Dragons as recently as January, she said.
"It really meant a lot to him to hear from people from over the years about how he helped them become a doctor, a lawyer, a policeman, what he gave them," Gygax said. "He really enjoyed that."
Dungeons & Dragons players create fictional characters and carry out their adventures with the help of complicated rules. The quintessential geek pastime, it spawned a wealth of copycat games and later inspired a whole genre of computer games that's still growing in popularity.
Funeral arrangements are pending. Besides his wife, Gygax is survived by six children.
From http://www.cnn.com/2008/TECH/03/04/obit.gygax.ap/index.html
We'll miss you, Gary. You made it OK to be a geek like me, and that means a lot.
February 28, 2008
Congrats, Fi and Mi!
Baby girl, 8 pounds, 2 ounces, 20.5 inches.
Born at exactly 6:00 PM Ireland-time.
Mom and baby are doing great. Fi was in labor for 13 hours, without a scream, grunt or anything of the sort. There was one "ouch," and another, calmly-spoken "Oh my god this hurts." No name yet. Pictures to follow.
February 21, 2008
What's New, Volume 3: The Family
UPDATE: Understatement of the Year:
So at 12:08 AM PST, I received the following text message from Sister Fi:
In labor now about three hours. Guess I should wake up mom and Michael for hospital pretty soon.
Gee. Ya think? ;-)
Good luck in there. Love ya!
So my niece or nephew is due to show up today. I'm assuming he or she is so full of the local Irish charm that s/he's late, but for all the returning of my text messages that goes on these days from across the pond, the little one could already be out, walking, talking, and college-educated. Bwahaha. Actually, I don't even know if I'm using the right number, with all those damn zeros and country codes those silly foreigners make you use.
You can read more about the strange journey of Little Baby Doe (they still don't have a name) on Sister Fi's blog. In other family-related news, my "Deep and Soulful" (not my quote) Uncle Jim, AKA The Attorney-At-Love, was just interviewed in the Arizona Daily Star. You can also bring that voice to your local book club via speakerphone (or in person, if you live in AZ) by contacting him through his Web site.
February 20, 2008
What's New, Volume 1: The Girl
It's been a long time since I've posted, so my update will be in chunks, necessarily focusing this blog more than usual. So enjoy it. The ADD returns soon.
I feel almost guilty mentioning this, since several of my friends are going through breakups at the moment, but what the hell. Here's my attempt to balance the scales. About a month ago, I started dating a gal, and she's kinda fantastic. Don't believe me? Well, then, you're an ass. But there might be hope for you just yet. Witness the evidence:
- Pasty as the sun-bleached bones of Casper the Friendly Ghost after applying Crest Whitestrips.
- Calves.
- Interesting, despite having her shit remarkably together.
- Knows more about Fangoria Magazine and everything it covers than I ever will.
- Says things like 'I think it's hot that you play D&D.' No--really.
- Watches Futurama, Family Guy, and South Park religiously.
- Thinks goofy bald guys are sexy.
Am I setting myself up to look foolish if this all blows up in my face? Sure. But if you can't be foolish and excited, what's the damn point? So yeah. She's a badassed ninja. And while yes, I am a pirate, and some of you subscribe to the archaic notion that pirates and ninjas don't get along, I'm here to get all Obama (go, Obama 2008!) on you and tell you that YES--they CAN work together in harmony. For the less creative in the house, an example: the ninjas could slit the throats of the guards, allowing the pirates to sneak in, blow shit up, and pillage. And when I'm in a pillaging mood, there's no one else I'd rather have slitting enemy throats. :)
January 3, 2008
Let There Be Heat on Earth...
...and let it begin with me.
| Old home: |
 |
| New(ish) home: |
 |
That's what you get for letting The Whalers go to Flahrida.
And on an unrelated note, thank you, Wyatt Doyle, for providing me with the opportunity to thank your former classmate, Tina Fey, for this pic. You are, indeed, a noble friend.
December 12, 2007
Thank you, Jed
Hell. Yes.
December 11, 2007
Kentucky: Location of my Affectation
For years, I've wanted to cultivate some sort of affected interest in a liquor of some sort, but the truth of the matter is this: most liquor, even the good stuff, tastes like ass, butane, or butane-laced ass. And being into clear liquors doesn't count. Maybe gin, I suppose, but then you just seem like a teenage girl or an old drunk. But really, the poseur's liquor of choice needs to be brown.
Scotch tastes like vodka filtered through cow dung. Irish whiskey (sorry, Dad) is straight-up lighter fluid with caramel coloring. Canadian whiskey reminds me of my grandfather, but it tastes like the bastard child of Irish whiskey and Diet Coke. So much for my whiskey fetish, right?
Wrong! Last night, my friend Pattycake Butler was passing through town, taking the long route from Oxford Business School to Connecticut, and we had a few drinks. Deciding to give my whiskey dream one last shot at greatness, I asked what kind of bourbon they had, and I settled on a bottle of 1996 Evan Williams Single Barrel. Don't let the review fool you--it was nothing like scotch, or at the very least, the corn balanced out the typical Scotchy sheep-vomit taste. Whatever the reasons, it tasted completely unlike the Jack-Daniels-in-a-Diet-Pepsi-can that kicked off my drinking life, and it gave me hope that I can find some other, better, single-barrel snooty bourbons out there worth drinking, even when I'm not planning on getting hammered. Because that will save me from being the "metro wine guy."
At some point, I suppose I'll have to learn to move into a plantation house, start raising horses, spend a lot of time on a porch drinking lemonade, and learn to play my banjo (or hire someone else to), but that's all somewhere down the line. For now, I'm going to kick it with my Kentucky Spirit Guide™ and do some serious drankin' research. Yee-haw for the Commonwealth!
December 8, 2007
Resolved!
I'm not much for superstition, but I'm all for bragging, and bragging is easier when you can prove you've exceeded expectations. Even when they're your own. I'm also a big fan of guilt, shame, and fear as motivational tools. So for all these reasons and more, welcome to this year's edition of Cormac's New Year's Resolutions for a 12-Month Span Roughly Equivalent to 2008!
First up, this year(ish): fitness.
I've let things slide a bit in the last 12 months. Quite a bit, actually, so just getting back to where I was will do.
1. Weight: 165 or less
2. Bench Press: 210+
3. Mile: 5:45
Here's the trick: I have to hit all three targets in the same week. The mile, actually, will be the toughest one for me. I am just not a fast runner at all. And yeah, I know 5:45 isn't exactly speedy, but "baby steps," people. Baby steps.
While I'm at it, let's throw in:
4. Hand stand
Just because.
Moving on, a very conservative target:
5. 6 open chords on the guitar
That should be enough to establish a baseline so I can get interested enough to keep playing. Also on the creative tip, but somewhat less conservative:
6a. One full-length play, submitted to a festival or workshop
or
6b. One pilot, submitted to the person to whom you submit pilots
plus
7a. Three short stories, submitted to journals / magazines
or
7b. One novel, submitted to a publisher of some sort
That's it for now. We'll see how that goes. Updates coming in a month or so.
December 6, 2007
Oh yeah. That's me.
| Advanced Global Personality Test Results
|
personality test by similarminds.com
Stability results were high which suggests you are very relaxed, calm, secure, and optimistic..
Orderliness results were low which suggests you are overly flexible, improvised, and fun seeking at the expense too often of reliability, work ethic, and long term accomplishment.
Extraversion results were very high which suggests you are overly talkative, outgoing, sociable and interacting at the expense too often of developing your own individual interests and internally based identity.
November 19, 2007
Was it really even a question?
I'm bunking with Jewel Staite.
 | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
With which sci-fi crew would you best fit? (pics) | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| You scored as Serenity (Firefly) You like to live your own way and don't enjoy when anyone but a friend tries to tell you should do different. Now if only the Reavers would quit trying to skin you.
|
November 13, 2007
"...and a splash of milk straight from his mama's precious teat."
I freaking love The Onion. I am, in many respects, that guy, but I'm man enough to laugh about not being man enough to drink coffee.
Sill not laughing? Try Dick Cheney in a strangely honest moment (thank you, Sandee):
November 4, 2007
Because Everyone Loves a Little Zombie Girl-on-Girl Action
Thank you, Jed and roomies (the hosts of ZombieFest '07™) for a lovely evening of dancing, gore, costumes, drinking, and slutty outfits.
The videos will have to stay private for now, but enjoy the pics HERE and feel the love. And whatever you do, if you're looking to meet a girl, cuff yourself to her early in the night. I saw it work (second hand).
October 31, 2007
Props to the Elders
2 shout-outs today for my uncle and mother. Let's start with Mom (sorry, Uncle Jim, but I met her first): Today, after 20someodd years working for the state, my mother gave her notice. January 1, she's out, once again flying solo, able to be that Greenwich Village beatnick she always wanted to be. Or she could just take her shiny new video camera and stalk her children with it. Either way, congrats, Mom--you earned it.
Now, on to the uncle. Jim Duzak--a fan favorite since he advised a 4 year-old me on my estate planning needs and actually helped me draw up a will (proper care of Charlie the stuffed dinosaur was critical)--just published his first book, "Mid-Life Divorce and the Rebirth of Commitment." I may know him as "Uncle Jim," but soon the world (but you first, if you buy the book today) will know him as the Attorney At Love. Coming to an Oprah show near you (not kidding). A more detailed review coming when I get my copy. Which I ordered. Did I mention that you can order one, too? Because if I didn't, now I did. So go buy one.
Oh. If you're more of an RSS / Atom user, you can subscribe to his blog here.
October 28, 2007
For Everything Else, There's Match.com....
Looking for parking near the local costume shop the Saturday before Halloween? 15 minutes.
Waiting in line to get into the local costume shop the Saturday before Halloween? 17 minutes.
Spending those 17 minutes 2 spots in line from a match.com girl with whom you'd done the "Internet Dating Mutual Fade-Out™" to keep things from being awkward?" Priceless.
October 8, 2007
"Just Feefty-Two Cents a Day!"
I work from home. I mean, yeah, I work, so it's not quite the "work from home" most people do when they decide to take a day off without spending vacation, but still--I work from home. I don't have a commute, my hours are flexible, and I basically have nothing about which to complain. Unless I'm on a deadline, my work schedule is pretty fluid. So why do I have no time?
It's Monday. I just got a call from a friend asking if I wanted to go see a movie, and I (honestly) replied "I think I might be free on Sunday." Am I that guy already? Someone please give me a day planner, a gun, and a single bullet.
I blame ACME. I'm only taking 2 classes there, but it's taken over my life. Improv shows from 8:30 to midnight on Fridays. Sketch class on Saturday. Improv class on Sunday. Meeting with the other students from sketch class on Saturday and/or Monday to plan our writing for the week. One night to write a sketch. One night to rewrite another. It takes time. And that's just class. Imagine if I were ever doing any real performing.
That's it. I need a benefactor. A distributed benefactor. I'll set up a paypal donation link and you pay a portion of my rent. You'll own a certain percentage of the bragging rights when I get famous. It'll be like buying stock in my personal corporation, except you'll never get a dividend. So I suppose it's more like a "Save the Cormacs." Somebody cue Ricardo Montelban.
October 3, 2007
Cuckoo for Jack
So tonight, thanks to my lovely and talented pal Michele Moore, I'm going to see Jack Nicholson introduce One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest at the AFI 40th Anniversary Dance Party. OK, "Dance Party" was all me, but one can hope. That Tippi Hedren is probably still kinda hot....
I'm wondering if I should open the questions with "So why is it you've played yourself in every role since Chinatown?" I would so wind up with a golf club to the head....
September 27, 2007
So THAT's What That Thing Is For!
This image, found during my search for my pal Erica's favorite Fandango ad, is funny enough on its own, but dig the fine print between the panels. That's right--you, too, can get a "24-page book explaining menstruation." And it's FREE! Sent in plain wrapper, natch. Wouldn't want the neighbors to know what you have going on.
I'm sending a letter to that PO Box (I'll have to fake up a Zip Code). I'll let you know if I hear back.
September 26, 2007
Rebel Without a Wrench
Points. Plugs. Distributors. Timing belts. I don't know crap about these things, but they sound sweet. Well, OK. I know what they do, and I know where to get them, but I've never changed them before. And it's time. You see, part of the cool factor you get from owning an old beater is being able to start conversations with a nonchalant "I was working on the car the other day, and...."
Changing a tire (done that) is a start, but unless you're changing all 4, it just kinda sounds like you're a moron who ran over a bottle. Changing points, rebuilding a carb--that's the sort of stuff James Deans are made of. Tune-up kit on order. I'm starting small, though, by changing my own oil.
This is more of a chore than you might imagine. First, my car's kind of low, so getting underneath is going to be a pain. Second, the local Auto Zone only recycles oil during certain hours. Third, I just realized I don't have an oil filter wrench, because, well, I don't exactly change my own oil much. Until now. Oh, yeah. You're also not supposed to change your oil in the street, and I don't have a driveway. But that adds to the "rebel" factor, see? I got it all worked out.
September 25, 2007
Thanks!
I swear I thought this was an Onion headline today. Apparently, Dubya got one over on the evildoers today by getting to the UN first. And since we all know the UN is perched on te razor's edge between spreading freedom and spreading oppressive tyranny, I, for one, am glad Bush got there in time. What a tool.
September 24, 2007
"Yes Anding," "No Butting," and Ginormous Biceps
Three weeks ago, it was 109 degrees inside my house. Right now I'm huddled under blankets and the roof is leaking winter rain. So much for summer.
It's not all bad, though. Autumn and Winter bring LA's only rain. Unlike the rest of the universe, LA comes alive in October and dies in May. I'm not all that different. Maybe it's the school year routine I haven't quite shaken, but the Fall has always been a good time for me to get things going. Not one to break a streak, I've signed on for yet another improv class at ACME, as well as their sketch writing lab. Both very interesting, and tremendously different. Couldn't be any less alike, in fact. Even my JOUST! posse is split down the middle. Ah, well. We'll always have movie nights and the Mexico party house, kiddos....
So classes are tiring but good, with shows a few months down the line, and while I'm on the self-improvement kick, it's time to get back into physical shape, too. First order of business: reining in the diet. According to our good friends at Apex fitness, makers of the world's bomb-assiest (that means "good") vitamins, I get to eat about 2400 calories and still lose weight. Sometimes, being a guy is great. Actually, being a guy is usually great. We pay for a lot more dates, but in the end, I think we still get the good end of the deal, so I shan't complain. Unless I find a better log, I'll probably use Fitday again, because free is good, and I can always plug in info from Calorie King.
September 5, 2007
"Is it the Krakus?"
1 PM dinner's at "Jaja's" (Dziadek's) house. Boiled canned ham. The same conversation, every time.
Great-Aunt Allie dishes from the serving plate, turns and asks "This ham looks nice, Ed. Is it the Krakus?"
Jaja sips beer from his cartoon-covered miniature Dixie cup and shakes his head. "Nope. Just Stop & Shop. Cheaper, but you can't tell the difference."
"Well I sure can't. It really seems like the Krakus to me. Doesn't it look just like the Krakus, Dot?"
"I can't tell the difference."
"Just Stop & Shop."
Boiled ham with salt. Boiled potatoes with salt and margarine. Canned peas or corn (never both). Little Dixie cups with full of apple juice (also Stop & Shop--"Cheaper than the Motts, but you can't tell the difference.") to match my grandfather's beer. Sliced Sunbeam bread in a big white stack, with margarine that's nice and soft because it's been sitting out in a butter dish all day. Surprised that Mary Price is there, since she usually comes on turkey holidays, not ham. Wondering how old she is. She seemed to be 100, but she was the only person at the table who hugged you without looking embarrassed. A whole table of people eating in perfect Polish silence, but not the least bit uncomfortable.
These memories courtesy of Kate Danley's blog post. I don't know what it was that kicked it off. Maybe communion. Maybe the Sprite and Grenadine. But thanks. Jaja would approve. He's just be silent about it. :)
September 4, 2007
Rinse your Brain Dirty
I am bored. Mind-numbingly bored. I am also at work. These things are related.
I'm working on a piece for a very large, very boring ERP company right now. I understand that ERP is important. I do. I mean, I like to know that the Homestar Runner Yahoo store has a full supply of Strongbad action figures and Trogdor posters when I shop as much as the next guy, so I'm all about the Vendor Managed Inventory and all. I understand that creating a $4 million software megalith that even turns on is an impressive engineering feat. I understand that selling said $4 million software package is even more impressive, particularly when you toss in the $6 million in consulting it takes to get the software to work. But man--I feel tainted with drabness by touching ERP's periphery for an instant. People actually work with this shit every day. What kind of toll must that take? A couple examples of just the marketing. Golf clap with me:
Businesses that stand still are already being left behind.
If you're not integrating, you're disintegrating.
Yeah. And that's the stuff that won. Someone, somewhere at a meeting slammed his (it's ERP--it's a him, and probably a Teutonic him, at that) fist on the table and shouted "THIS IS IT! DISINTEGRATING! NOW THEY'LL BUY IT FOR SURE!" I dunno if that's better or worse than the "leveraging the new paradigm of synergistic dominance for a win-win" 1998 crap we all used to hawk, but it's bad, nonetheless.
I was going to go to the gym tonight. I still might. But after having my brain washed with this garbage, I need to fill it up with something naughty and vile and whiny and perverse again so I can get back to normal. So I'm headed to The Improv to see my pal Jessica rant about penises or farts or boobs or something.
August 28, 2007
Like Crate-Training, for Humans!
So now that Sister Fi is officially on the grid as being avec screaming-infant-to-be, I can start posting my suggestions for a baby-friendly future. Step 1: NO DIAPERS! It worked with Violet, so I don't see why it couldn't work (sans leash and crate--that stuff gets you in trouble with babies, I hear) with humans. One step closer to the dream of having cute little pre-trained babies show up on your doorstep! Progress is grand.
August 24, 2007
California Luv
So my nephew Andrew (visiting for a week, pictured with Fran, to the right) has taught me the secret to good health. It's all about a balanced diet that hits the five major food groups: cereal, chocolate, soda, burgers, and assorted pizza products. I'd credit youth with his ability to put that stuff away and remain at single-digit bodyfat, but that never worked for me. I'd go with genetics but, well, he's my nephew. Must be on his mom's side. Whatever the reason, it's damned impressive.
Yesterday was all about Hollywood tourism. Hollywood and Highland, Graumann's Chinese, the Hollywood sign, a trip to the High Voltage Tattoo shop from LA Ink, a Scientology HQ drive-by, Chinatown, and Superbad (which was great, btw) at the Vista, the best damn theater in LA. Good times. Today might be bikini-volleyball-watching at Huntington Beach, freak-watching at Venice, rich-white-asshat-watching in Santa Monica, and a pass through Beverly Hills and WeHo on the way back. More as it comes.
August 21, 2007
That Thing You Do (poorly)
It's a stretch to say that everyone has something to offer the world, but you'd be dead-on if you said that no one can do everything. Moby will never be a professional wrestler. Werner Herzog will never work for Disney. Phoebe Cates.....well, OK. Phoebe Cates can do anything she wants. Touché.
Phoebe aside, we all have limits. As for me, I will never be a tailor.
My pal Adella? She bangs out things like this like it's nothing. So I figure I'll save myself some money and score some brownie points with my improv crew by making my own jester costume. I start with a simple tunic pattern and a bunch of grand ambitions. 5 hours later, I finish with a pile of tattered old shreds and a lighter wallet.
So after much browbeating, I bring myself down to Adele's (no relation to Adella, though I'm sure they'd have a lot in common), plunk down the cash I should have spent in the first place, and end up with a costume I couldn't have made in 6 weeks. Lesson du jour: When in doubt, pay someone else to do it.
So if you're a tailor who's about to write a white paper about proton therapy or Fibre Channel Storage Area Networks, stop right there and call me. I think we can barter.
July 30, 2007
RIP Ingmar Bergman
I have plenty of updates that are long overdue, and I'll get to them after I hit a few deadlines this week, but I wanted to take a moment to give thought to the life of Ingmar Bergman. Despite my appreciation for American pop culture and my disdain for pretentious crap (yes, I mean you, Mr. Cassavettes) and far-too-Nordic art (yes, I mean you, Mr. Strindberg), Bergman was the real deal. If he's new to you, start with The Seventh Seal or Wild Strawberries.
Then check out this tribute.
Like my innocence, pie gone.
June 28, 2007
Dane Who?
Without trying, I have never seen anything starring Dane Cook. I didn't even know who he was, until someone informed me that not knowing makes me odd. I still don't really know who he is. I wonder if I should try to keep it that way.
June 21, 2007
The Burning Butt (#4)
Yesterday, Sister Fi (no relation to Semper) was nice enough to send me this adorable little pic of the two of us taken a good 30 years ago (ouch). Sans big white numbers, natch. It was great to see the little kid she was, the super-hot micro-stud I was, and relive the warm fuzzies, but what really got me were all the memories attached to the incidentals. And that's where the big white numbers come in.
1) Quizzical look, with just a hint of "You may very well be full of shit, but I'm withholding judgment for now." This look has persisted since the last days of the Ford administration.
2) I call this look the "Clueless Smartass." This dates back to the late Nixon era, and I still use it daily.
3) Spider-Man shirt, given as a present by Rose Marie, the kindergarten girlfriend. I was big pimpin' at age 5. Little did I know I was about to hit a 15-year dry spell.
4) The radiator. In those days, we called it "bench seating for the boys." In the winter, that thing was freaking hot. Eddie and I took to hoarding telephone books in the warm summer months so we'd have some butt protection once it got cold and the heat came on, so we looked about 17 feet tall sitting at the table.
5) Random pictures thumbtacked to the shelf above said radiator. Also art projects, greeting cards, and anything mildly related to my mother's children. The heat rising from the Scalder of Cormac's Ass™ curled them into celluloid cannoli, but there they hung, flicking up against the faces of the two 17 foot tall kids sitting on stacks of phone books all dinner long.
6) The busted-up breadbox with the drawer front ripped off. This was a good thing, as trying to pry the thing open to get the Archway Date-Filled Oatmeal Cookies was the only exercise I got some years.
Makes You Nine Foot Tall When You're Four Foot Five...
...Hep, Hep.
So the Playboy Jazz Fest was all that and 17,500 bags of chips. And dip. And fried chicken. And sandwiches and mudslides and untold pounds of cheese and absurd amounts of wine and beer. Yes, there was a lot of food. But more on that later.
Etta James was awesome--and surprisingly spry. So spry, in fact, that she got downright trampy on-stage, bless her hussy of a heart. Sandee loves her all the more, now. Arturo Sandoval was terrific, with mambo dancers and a big band for the full Ricky Ricardo experience. And yeah, the Cheese actually got me up to shuffle in the aisle to a little "One-Two-Three-Huh?"
We were far from alone. After Nathan and the Zydeco Cha-Chas got things going, dancing erupted pretty much constantly throughout the day, due in no small part to the Hollywood Bowl's phenomenal BYOB policy. The entire audience was hammered by 3:30 PM and stayed that way for the next 7 hours.
Still, it was far from a frat party. It was more of a picnic or family reunion, set to a backdrop of really amazing jazz. One group of 60 people flew in from Houston for the 12th straight year. One teenager met up with 2 kids he hadn't seen since last year's show--that sort of thing. And then there was FoodLady™. FoodLady™ came prepared with two (2) full-size Igloo coolers containing (at a minimum):
* Salad
* Rolls / tomatoes / lettuce / onions / 2 kinds of meat for sandwiches
* Fried chicken
* Olives
* Cheese
* BBQ shrimp on skewers
* Beer
* Mudslides
* Ice for the mudslides
* 2 pumpkin pies
* 2 cheesecakes
She actually handed out cheesecake and pie to everyone within 6 feet, too, and offered to make me a sandwich. That's the kind of vibe we had going on. Well, that, and the 60-somethings dry-humping each other on the handrail....
Thx to Wydok of NewTexture for the pic.
Grats, Man!
Congrats to my nephew Andrew on his graduation yesterday from mi escuelita, Bulkeley High. Now, normally, I'd say this qualifies you for oh, tequila shots amidst the sleaze of Avenida Revolucion in Tijuana or something when you come out to visit, but your folks have nixed the "out-of-country" idea, so we'll have to settle for the upscale sleaze of the somewhat-legal happenings on the Sunset Strip.
And dude--what's with the facial hair and being taller than me? You make me feel old and yet somehow less of a man at the same time.
June 8, 2007
Our Numbers Grow. Fear Us.
Another one joins the fold. Thank you, Atomic, for the link, and congrats, little guy! Hit me up for an email address when you get a little older.
June 4, 2007
A Disaster of Gastrocnemial Proportions
I'd like to take a moment to talk about a dangerous trend. A trend that threatens to destroy everything that is good and just and right about this country. A trend that could well topple our cultural hegemony and eliminate our last remaining shreds of dignity. I'm talking about the erosion of a precious national resource--calves.
I live in Los Angeles. I used to be a personal trainer. I don't say "curves" or "healthy" when I mean "fat." I am not, in any sense, a cheerleader for unreasonable jiggle. So trust me when I say that the world has gone completely crazy.
Exhibit 1: I'm at the gym, and a thin, fit woman turns to her moron trainer and says "I need to get rid of THESE." She then points in disgust to her calves, which are slightly more than a blip, but just slightly. The woman was running maybe 14-15 percent bodyfat, which, for those of you on the outside, is roughly the skinniest of The Pussycat Dolls. So not exactly beefy. The trainer responded with a "Sure, we can get rid of that. Don't worry. It's all about patience." No, you moron, it's about being able to point your toe.
Exhibit 2: Asian (particularly Korean) women are cutting their calf muscles and having to relearn to walk properly in order to have thinner, "more Caucasian" legs.
And what are the Caucasian legs they're looking for? A Vietnamese news site has, for reasons beyond the comprehension of any online translation service, provided us with all the answers we could ever need. Let's examine some of the lowlights:
* Angelina Jolie: Beautiful from the neck up, certainly, but her legs look malnourished.
* Cameron Diaz: Pretty woman, but her legs, while slightly closer to human, are still barely functional and not at all attractive.
* Kate Bosworth: Yes, she was once a babe in Blue Crush, but now she's all shriveled up and looks like a corpse.
I'm not unreasonable. I'm not looking for Rosie O'Donnell gladiator calves (no link there--you can find that on your own time, if the need strikes). Just something that says "I eat enough to be able to move." Like Lucy Liu or Jessica Biel or, I dunno, maybe 95 percent of the world that isn't living in hunger and abject poverty?
Please, people. Shave your heads. Get tattoos. Pop pills. Whatever. Just leave the calves alone. STEP AWAY FROM THE CALVES.