23 November 2009

Vocab Quiz

Jeff was born on a moonless night in 1996. Thirteen years later, he learned that he would need to go on a long and difficult journey to save all of mankind from a horrible future of enslavement by aliens. On this journey he encountered his newly discovered arch-nemesis and they fought. Jeff was bruised and bloody but never broken. His arch-nemesis tried many crafty tactics to bring about Jeff's downfall, but Jeff always prevailed. There were times when Jeff wanted to give up. He met a girl; she died. He made a friend; the friend betrayed Jeff. Jeff met another girl; she became his stalwart companion. Jeff thwarted the aliens bent on enslavement and was elevated to godhood status by the grateful masses. He didn't want to rule, and so retired to a quiet life in the country with his wife.

That, my friends, is a quick and dirty example of bildungsroman (or try here). I am fed up to my eyebrows with that word. Far too many of the reviewers in the NY Times Book Review are in love with bildungsroman. I didn't realize that "coming-of-age" was so passé. Instead, let's resurrect an obscure German word that most people don't know. I do appreciate that the reviewers aren't talking (writing?) down to me, but don't use a word just because it makes you seem erudite. Heh, see what I did there?

What I really want to know is: why now? How is it that bildungsroman became the word du jour? Was there a meeting of the book review community? Did they say "OK folks, we're becoming too mainstream. Let's reach into our collective asses and find a word we can abuse. Bonus points if 50% of our readers have to look the word up."

17 November 2009

Remember, the Water is Free

Another entry for the "Why it's easier to eat crap" list.

The vending machine at work recently added cans of V-8, for 20 cents more than a soda. If you want to encourage people to eat/drink healthy, wouldn't it make more sense to...zzzzzzzzzzzzz. Sorry, I just bored myself with all the obvious-stating.

12 November 2009

Unwanted Gifts

Some people have a knack for finding the perfect gift. Others have a seemingly innate ability to always find a twofer deal on Triscuits. Then there are the people who can go to a city and find a fantastic restaurant. All of those skills? gifts? talents? would be wonderful to have. Unfortunately for me, I do not possess anything of the sort. No, my knack is far less useful, and far more disgusting. It would seem that I have the disturbing ability to choose the one of the two ladies' rooms which someone is shitting in.

You heard me. I've been to the bathroom twice this morning, once in each bathroom, and both times someone was taking a righteous (stinky) poo. I know that twice isn't a trend, but it happened to me at least 3 times yesterday out of the half-a-dozen (or so) trips I made to the ladies' room.

On a slightly related note, I also noticed that I manage to talk about poop pretty much everyday. I don't have a baby, or an old person, to take care of. There really is no excuse for it.

10 November 2009


I'm fucking psychic.

I was making dinner last night and getting ready to watch House. (Spoilers ahead) I had a random thought: What if they brought back the private detective guy from the beginning of last season? Wouldn't that be something?

And BANG! There he was, in Cuddy's hotel room, just when House was attempting to be a good guy and offering to babysit.

So either I'm psychic, or I should be writing for TV.

05 November 2009


Am I the only person who makes an effort to make lots of noise when I'm in the bathroom and I KNOW there is someone in there trying to take a dump? Because we all know that no one wants to hear us farting and grunting, regardless of the fact that every -body -thing, poops. And there's nothing so uncomfortable as trying to pinch it off when someone enters the restroom. By making lots of noise, I feel that I am giving the pooper extra cover to go about her business.

03 November 2009

Mellowing Out

It is true what they (of ubiquity) say - hate is difficult to sustain. It takes an enormous amount of energy to maintain a consistent level of bile and most people, myself included, aren't up for the effort.

The reason I bring this up is because I realized that over the past couple of weeks, I don't get the same instantaneous, acidy, lip-curling reaction I used to get when having to deal with either Stoneface or the Princess. I'm sure it has something to do with the magical powers of my hair. I got the double-take from Stoneface the day I left it flowing free, and the Princess also commented on my unfettered locks. This isn't to say I'm easy. Don't think that all you have to do to win me over is compliment my tresses. It may help, but it won't do it all. Woo me.

It also helps that I don't have to deal directly with either one on a regular basis. Stoneface and I are merely passers-by and the Princess only drops mail off. It is easy to tolerate people with whom you have limited interaction.

Killing Me With Corniness

My friends and I enjoy watching crappy movies. One example: Christmas Evil. Another example: Killing Me Softly, a fantastically awful movie starring Heather Graham and Joseph Fiennes (the one who ISN'T Voldemort). I'm not going to deliver an in-depth plot synopsis here, but I did want to address a user comment/review I read on IMDB. There are a surprising amount, but the one I wanted to comment on said (I paraphrase) women will love this film because of the total commitment Fiennes's character gives to Graham's, and that men fear this. I would like to respectfully disagree; mostly about the women loving it part.

Fiennes's Adam is a closed book. His intensity of feeling for the blandly blonde Alice is perplexing, but I blame that on Graham's acting. She was in a safe and boring relationship with a safe and boring guy and was swept away after an encounter at a street corner with the dark and brooding Adam. He dominates her sexually, which is a matter of preference and not part of my complaint; lays the smack down on a mugger who dares to attack his beloved; doesn't share any of the gory details of his life; etc etc ad nauseum.

I understand crazy sexual attraction. I'm sure there's been a point for many of us where we are swept away by a hormonal tsunami. Or, for the ladies, "dickmatized". People do fucked-up things in the pursuit of poonani, but if you watched a man, your man, beat a mugger half to death, wouldn't you be the slightest bit concerned that his volatile temper could come out on your ass? Would you forgive it if it was part of some sexual role-playing game? Most people (I hope) would not agree to marry him while he still had blood on his hands.

Any guy who watches this movie for relationship tips has deep-seated issues. Yes, some people like BDSM, but it usually doesn't extend past the bedroom (metaphorically speaking). Just because I let you tie me up at home, doesn't mean I want to walk around the streets of Philadelphia in a dog collar.

This movie is based on a book by Nicci French. I couldn't help but wonder if it was a crappy movie based on a crappy book, or if the book fell victim (as so many do) to a terrible screenplay and poor acting. According to many Amazon reviews, the book is pretty good. Many 4 and 5 star reviews. I know this doesn't mean I'd like it, but I'm willing to believe that the author is talented and got screwed by Hollywood. The movie barely has camp value. The only reason to watch this movie is to see Heather Graham's tits, and you can get that from Boogie Nights. At least, I seem to remember that you seem them. It's been a couple of years since I watched that movie so I could be wrong.