Boys Are Silly

My friend sent me a picture of her son the other day. He is sitting in his carseat, looking all super cute in his poofy coat and fleecy hat, and he is holding a box of tampons. You know how little kids are; they want to put their grubby hands all over everything. I'm sure it was endlessly fascinating for him and provided a moment of peace for his mom.

Since I love my nephew and believe everyone should be forced to coo over him (See? Who needs kids of their own?), I showed the picture around at work. My spying supervisor came over and I showed the picture to him. He asked, "What's he holding?" As soon as the word tampons left my mouth, he practically hurled the phone back at me. It was a picture of a box of tampons. How goofy can you get?

Seriously though, why are (some) guys so weird about tampons? I get that tampons perform an icky (if necessary) function, but it wasn't as though I was waving a used o.b. in front of his horrified face. An unused tampon is cotton and string, end of story. It's like being grossed out by a pair of pajama pants.

Daily Dose of Crazy

I had a dream last night that I got a $73,000 tax refund. Waking up sucked.

I'm all paranoid that the base my pen pal is at got overrun by Taliban.

I've had three cups of coffee and it isn't even noon.

I parked my new Rabbit next to a coworker's Rabbit. I couldn't resist.

I don't have anything for lunch.

I choked on a Triscuit.

My recliner fell backwards last night - with me in it. And there was a witness.

I'm going to a buffet for the first time since changing my eating/exercise habits. I'm a little concerned at my control.

"You have such a pretty smile."

Please don't say it, please don't say it, please don't -

"You should smile more!"

AHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Why, people, why? Why should I smile more? I am not an especially physically expressive person. I don't feel the need to smile if I don't want to. It's not as though I'm walking around with a perma-frown.

And don't give me the "smiling makes you happy when you're not" line. I know, I've done it. But not smiling does not equal not-happy.

I usually say that smiling makes my face hurt. And that makes me happy.

Gross and Sad

I can't decide if this is gross, or just sad.

My one supervisor, BR, pervs after my coworker/friend, LT. Sure, she's cute and smart and nice. BR is old enough to be her father, plus some. There is often inappropriateness.

For the last half an hour, BR has been dissecting LT's wedding registry. Before that, he was making fun of her for misunderstanding what he asked her to do (something about lottery numbers, or whatever). The teasing isn't the issue; the issue is the repetition of the teasing. Twenty minutes of "Huh huh huh, you didn't know I meant a 3-digit number" and a half an hour of "Why did you register for this?" and "Did you let MG (the fiance) pick anything?" Blahblahfuckingblah. Get a new line, perv.

It's gonna get worse soon because LT's equally cute, smart, sweet sister, ST, is stopping by. I'm afraid there is gonna be a sticky mess in BR's desk.

OK, either I really need a drink, or I have to learn how to filter the nonsense better.

I Watched the Watchmen

After a solid eight hours of sleep and a fresh cup of coffee at my side, I feel ready to discuss the Watchmen movie. It was, in a word, boring.

It pains me to admit this. I have a great appreciation for the graphic novel and yes, Zack Snyder was slavishly devoted to the look of the novel, but I'm going to have to agree with those that said Watchmen is/was unfilmable.

The cast was solid. Jackie Earle Haley was excellent as Rorschach, and I felt that Patrick Wilson played schlubby Dan Dreiberg well. Matthew Goode (Adrian Veidt/Ozymandias) projected a creepy calm zealotry, if that's at all possible. However, his Brit accent started slipping in rather badly toward the end of the movie. I don't know enough about Malin Akerman to decide if her acting was above or below standard, but I didn't hate her as Laurie.

Most of the fight scenes; Dan and Laurie in the alley and at the prison especially, are interspersed with other scenes. After all, there was no way to make the movie completely linear without it being even longer than the 2hr40min it was. If you've seen 300, you know that Snyder has a fondness for sped up, slowed down fights. After a while, it got old seeing some thug, or masked hero, flipping slowly through the air and landing heavily on his back. Also in keeping with the novel, there is a lot of violence but very little actual gore. Dr. Manhattan's splatter power isn't so much gross as it is sudden.

Much of the film was talky. This format works fine in comics where the actual action is limited and more needs to be explained verbally, but in a movie, a comic book/action movie? Snore.

Yes, there is some sex. I was in a very giggly theater (teehee, boobies!) so when Dan and Laurie are going to it, I was surrounded by the nevous laughter of kids whose curfew apparently isn't midnight. Yes, we see Malin Akerman's boobies and Wilson's tushie, but unless you're easily offended by nudity, none of it was gratuitous.

Since I didn't have high hopes for this film, I'm not disappointed at how it turned out. I respect the decision to keep the story set in 1985 and it is a good thing that Snyder didn't attempt to incorporate "The Black Freighter" or the "Under the Hood" story lines. That would have made the film a huge mess. I will be renting the DVD release they did for "The Black Freighter".

If you have a spare 3hrs, a strong bladder, and a fondness for stylized violence go see Watchmen. Otherwise, go pick up the graphic novel. I believe the story is much easier to deal with if you can flip back and see things you missed, or stop for a moment to contemplate the layers and how everything comes together. Plus, it costs you nothing to reread the book. With today's movie prices, who wants to pay for a second veiwing in the theater?

Time for Another Rebuilding Season?

Another "as I lay me down to sleep" train of thought.

I am already concerned about this season of Eagles' football. I understand that Dawk is 35 and may have lost a step or two, but why are they dismantling a defense that (mostly) stepped up and got shit done? Especially when we have an offense that flails around like an epilectic on crack? Why trade away Buckhalter, who had flashes of brilliance? (and no, I'm not just salty because I got a Buckhalter jersey this season) Don't get me wrong, Westbrook is amazing, but what is going to happen if he gets hurt again?

And McNabb. You know what? I'm not even going to get started on good ole Donnie-boy. Just, dude, play like it means something to you. If that means you have to puke mid-game and mid-field...I'm OK with that.

Semi-conscious Musings

I am very upset with myself.

I don't know about you, but when I'm laying in bed, my mind goes to strange places. I think about things that wouldn't usually occur to me when I'm more alert. For example, last night I started thinking about Fibonacci numbers and how it took me an extraordinary amount of time to grasp the concept. As I'm typing this, I'm thinking I've mentioned Fibonacci numbers before. OK, a quick search didn't reveal anything. Now, while I understand the sequence (1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21...), I still don't understand how a flower can have a Fibonacci number of petals. Apparently this Fibonacci junk happens quite often in nature.

From Fibonacci numbers, I somehow started musing on things I do that I wish I didn't. Junk like nail-biting, getting weirdly fixated on people I'm probably never going to meet, (you know, unless I do something illegal/crazy, and I hear jail isn't so much fun), say oddly aggressive things that I think are hilarious but make other people back away slowly, etc. I wasn't laying there feeling sorry for myself or anything, just musing.

Then I started thinking "Gee, maybe some of this would make for an interesting blog post. Maybe I should get up, since I can't sleep anyway, and bang some of this out." Then I remembered that I shut the netbook down, and that I couldn't afford to oversleep so I rolled over and thought "Maybe I'll remember enough of it in the morning." Well, I don't and that's why I am angry. I had a great stream-of-consciousness thing going; complete with clever blog title. Sure, I could still use the title, but it just didn't seem right if the body wasn't going to be the way I laid it out in my head. Even now, I'm remembering other things I was thinking about but I can't quite recall how they related to Fibonacci numbers. Therefore, they must not have been that important.

Selections from the Trash Heap

It is truly amazing what you can recall with a tiny bit of prompting.

My dad sent me a link to an article on Salon about the demise of the 3-D View-Master. I, my mom, and my dad all had one when we were kids. My dad's was extra special because it came with a record to play as you ka-chunked your way around the View-Master disk. Fancy. I started thinking back to what stories I had for my View-Master. I seem to remember a Chip n Dale adventure, and maybe something with The Borrowers. But memory is a fickle thing and I could be totally wrong.

Thoughts of the Disney chipmunks led me to this gem: the theme song for Duck Tales. Yeah, that's right. The theme song for a show about Unca Scrooge, Huey, Dewey, and Louie. I watched that religiously everyday after school. That, and Rescue Rangers and Darkwing Duck. What? I like cartoons.

This thing that horrifies me is how much of the damn theme song I can remember.

"Life is like a hurricane,
Here in Duckburg.
Race cars, lasers (?), aeroplanes
It's a duck blur.
Might solve a mystery
Or rewrite history
Duck Tales! Woo-oo!"

AHHHHHHHH! Or how 'bout this one?

"They're tiny, they're toony
they're all a little looney
And in this cartoon-y
we're invading your TV!"

Or:

"It's time for Animaniacs!
And we're zany to the max!
So just sit back and relax
You'll laugh 'til you collapse!"

Grrrr.

Ironically enough, I have no recollection of the Rescue Rangers theme.