Christmas, with a little less soul

So I made it back to Cheyenne. To catch you up (those of you who don't know) I'd been scheduled to arrive on Thursday, but Mother Nature, bitch that she is, had other plans for me and thousands of others. Thanks to the purchase of an extra plane ticket through Southwest (since Frontier's 800# was STILL down days later and in person could not rebook me to arrive UNTIL the 25th) I made it home yesterday afternoon. I spent my extra time in LA taking my own sweet time shopping, packing, buying presents, sleeping, and making cookies. Sometimes you have to look at these things as being given the gift of time, though I'd still much rather be here.

It's my first time online in over 24 hours (and I didn't combust!) and I found out that James Brown, the Father (Godfather?) of Soul has died this morning after a bout of pneumonia. I've now stumbled across a new minor regret in my life: never seeing the man perform in person. Friends of mine had taken in this sight in recent years at the Hollywood Bowl, and as is so often the case, I thought, "next year", only to be reminded once again to take these opportunities when they arise. As big of a venue as it is, I can only imagine that he had no problems filling it with his veritable James Brown-yness.

Rest well, the soul of Soul.

Ok Go: Here it Goes Again

I'm a little late in the game with these guys, but this video just rocks!

Spring Fresh

Is it wrong that I'm actually proud of myself for doing my laundry?

Paris and my Mom

I was on the phone with my Mom the other night and she went into a mini-rant about Paris Hilton, that she'd never seen so much attention for someone who'd done so little, and that she was so indulgent. Then she said, "She's like the human Las Vegas."

My Mom rocks.

Too. Damn. Cute.

Get this video and more at MySpace.com

Tattoo You

I found it - I finally figured out what I want as my tattoo. Now I need stories, advice, and warnings from you, my people, of the process. I could also use a recommendation for a good, clean place in LA to have this done.

VOTE DAMMIT!

Today's the day, people.  I don't think I've been
this excited for an election since my freshman
year of college in 1992.

Dru's Dad sent the following out on this day in
2000 and I've kept it ever since. It's pretty
touching and something I think of every time
I visit a voting booth, Presidential election or not.

For quite a long time now I have been deeply cynical
of this whole presidential campaign -- a campaign
that has come down to the evil of two lessors, as
I have heard it described.  Here in Wyoming, a state
with 3 electoral college votes, my individual vote
for president (regardless of my choice) has been
meaningless for nearly a year -- it is foregone that
the Wyoming electoral college votes are Republican.
Most of those friends and colleagues I know who
listened to the debates were mostly doing so just
to have their decision, long before made,ratified.
And regardless of which side they were on, or what
they heard in the debates, the campaign rhetoric,
the political ads -- all served simply to confirm
for each their position -- a position arrived at
almost automatically and much earlier.  So why bother?

But at this moment, well before any results can be
reported, I am deeply moved and profoundly proud
to be a resident of the United States of America.

At 7:00 AM I was 33rd in line at my local polling
place, and the line grew steadily behind me.  I
stood in line with strangers, neighbors and friends
-- Independents, Republicans, Democrats, Libertarians
and "others."  We didn't speak of politics, nor of
candidates, nor of positions.  We made small talk.

We honored one another by respecting each other's
views, acknowledging them as equal to our own.
There were no guards at the doors, no uniformed
"keepers of the peace" watching over the process.
The process, rather, was being conducted by
volunteers -- friends, neighbors and strangers.
And not a one of us in line even gave a thought
about the honesty of the poll workers or the
integrity of the process.  We didn't have to.
We know it.  We expect it.  We can't imagine it
any other way.

As I left the booth and walked back past the
line of citizens quietly awaiting their turn
to exercise their fundamental right in this
democracy of ours; as I turned up my collar
to the icy wind inevitably whipping across
the parking lot; as I watched the stream of
cars and pickups coming into that lot and
driving away, I confess, I choked up.

In a couple of months we will have a new government.
And when it changes, we will have a party --
no violence, no jailing of the vanquished, no turmoil
-- a party!  We will grouse about the ineptitude of
those we just elected; we will let them know in no
uncertain terms of our dislikes and our demands;
we will judge them publicly and privately; and we
will ultimately trust them to manage the affairs
that keep us working more or less together.

I voted for a new president, even though I knew
my vote didn't really matter. I voted for judges
and local officials, and constitutional propositions
and optional tax issues where I knew my vote would
matter.  And I did that side by side with friends,
neighbors and strangers, in suits and blue jeans
and uniforms and sweatpants, in rusty pickups and
shiny imported autos. Together we just changed our
government. We took a pen in our hands and shook
every governmental institution in this, the most
powerful country in the world-- and then we all went
to work and got on with our day.

And here it goes.

I know, I know. IknowIknowIknow. Here I am, back from blogging dead. A little background on my life, post-Montreal (which I swear I'm putting up soon):

My grandma died. She'd been in the hospital with shingles for a week and out for two days recovering when it happened. In that sense it was a surprise, but she had diabetes and we think the meds were just too strong for her kidneys to handle. She was 89, and in surprisingly good health otherwise. Her eyes were pretty bad, but her mind was still so sharp. It sucks at times on a surprising level that hits me during those quiet moments, like while I'm in the car or in line somewhere. She was my last grandparent, and in a way it's the end of an era. Grandparents are the ones who truly love you unconditionally and root for you no matter what, without the unspoken hopes and scattered disappointments that your parents experience.

So that prompted a trip back to Omaha a week prior to a visit I'd already planned for the next weekend (Labor Day). Back on a Friday, viewing, funeral, cleaning up her apartment with my Dad, back to LA on Sunday. Then unpacking, laundry, packing again, and back to Nebraska on Friday. (This time I managed to have some fun, going to the opening Nebraska game and to the State Fair with my Mom, which was marred after the fact only because I found once I got back from NY that her oldest dog, Sunny, had died of cancer, which made the trip bittersweet. At least I got to spend some time with her, but I loved her like my own.) After that it was back again to LA on Monday, unpacking, dry cleaning, laundry, packing for an eight day trip, then out on Saturday to go back to Boston for vacation, leaving for NYC that Wednesday, then finally back here the Sunday after. I'm JUST now back to my normal life, and I'm not leaving this city until Christmas.

Boston was a lot of fun. I stayed with Joy and KB, and finally met Nolan. What a little guy. I'd never spent that kind of time with a baby before. Man, are they exhausting. He's a great kid, don't get me wrong, but the experience of being aware that many hours in the day was overwhelming. It was kind of a lot to take in, but it was fun. It's just like you hear, experiencing things for the first time. And there's nothing funnier than kids. Just watching Nolan fall to the ground to play with the wheels on an old woman's walker, or on the carts in Quincy Market, or on a wheelchair, was enough to endlessly crack me up.

We went to a block party in Joy's neighborhood and later went to a fabulous dinner party at the home of one of KB's co-workers. We visited the aquarium, which, as Joy says in her blog, was probably enjoyed more by us than, you know, the child we brought. We met KB after work and strolled around the North End and ate at my favorite Italian restaurant. Tuesday I met my college friend Jackie for lunch, and then trapsed all over Back Bay to the point where my legs felt like jello. I stopped on Marlborough St, near where my dorm was, and fought back tears because I don't live back there and unless I set my career goals really low, I won't. Unless one of you finds me a hot Harvard professor to marry. Hell, at this point he could even teach at BU.

I met up with Joy and KB to celebrate Joy's birthday and ate really yummy Asian food (they had all kinds there: Korean, Chinese, Japanese...). Joy had two martinis and we went across the street to Solas, an Irish pub (in Boston? get out!), where we each had a couple more drinks and decided to call it a night.






The next day I left for NY and saw a really great comedy show in the village called Invite Them Up. It's full of smart, irreverent performers, the kind we all like. I saw a couple of stand outs, including Will Franken and Mike Birbiglia. Thursday I met up with Julie, my college friend whose wedding prompted the trip back there, for a little shopping and lunch, and then saw my transplanted LA friend Sarah over dinner. That night I went to the opening (red carpet and all) of a swanky new comedy club in the Meatpacking District called Comix. Sarah Silverman hosted and Josh Blue (Last Comic Standing winner this year) and Flight of the Conchords (a favorite of Doc Broc's and mine) performed. I ran into a few people I knew and met a bunch of people I didn't know, so the night was fruitful on all counts.

I meandered around on Friday, even in the pouring rain (a time when NY is only romantic INSIDE) and went to a cocktail thingy that night that Julie's family hosted. Saturday I went to the new MOMA (not sure when they're going to stop calling it "new"). It definitely lived up to the hype. I spent over an hour on just the top floor, which included sufficient time drooling over the Warhols. No matter how many Monets and Rembrandts I've seen in person, it's still a little overwhelming to take in Pop Art that you've grown up with (or maybe I'm just confusing it with all the Campbells Soup I ate as a kid).

Saturday night I went to Julie's wedding, which was elegant as well as touching. With all the rain that New York had seen that week, it finally cleared up in time for her to be married on a rooftop in midtown. The weather couldn't have been better. After the ceremony, we feasted on steak and sushi and inhaled the open bar and danced like crazy.


<-------Julie and our friend Casey, acting very wedding-y.






And that pretty much makes us current.

*Ahem*

I'm on a break for a while. I'll let you know when I re-up this thing.

Oh, Canada

'Sup, Bitches -

On Friday, I'll be in Montreal for the comedy fest, so I'll actually have something noteworthy to blog about. Come back here late next week - I might even have photos!

Dogs Rock

I actually updated this more recently with a post about my Mom, but because I started it weeks ago, it fell in at that date and not up top.

Anyway, I thought I'd share a photo of her dogs.

Yay!

Kelly - Shoes

Bizarre but hilarious.

Blue Velvet / Blue Skies

Wanna know the weather in LA? Just ask David Lynch.

LOVES IT!

STAY OUT OF MY ROOM!

Folks, I fear I have an interloper in blogland.

I was talking to my Mom the other night about Joy's post (The Day of Nolan) and she came out with "so I suppose you have a blog, too", which I replied quickly with "Uh, no. Huh-uh." She's like "Oh come on now!" which, after having her as my mother for 32 years, I recognize from a mile away as her "don't give me that shit" tone. I came back with "No, really, I just don't have enough to say." And after that I got about 90 seconds of nothing, which I know to interpret as, "I know you're lying, but I don't want to get into it, so I'm going to drown you with silence."

Now, there's really not anything on here that's too incriminating (though I've blogged about plenty that I'm not necessarily proud of), but I still haven't told many people in the outside world about this, mainly because the more people I tell, the less open I can be. I've really limited this to people who know me well and accept me for who I am, hangovers, work rants and all.

Boosting Away My Sins

Throughout the course of my social life, there are occasions where I choose to partake in a drink (or six) and potentially some "party favors" (ahem), and in extreme times, these items lead up to an allnighter.

Once I wake up, there's the usual attempt to recollect what happened the night before (or earlier that morning): the beer/scotch/rum incident, the joints, and whatever else has contributed to the overall nastiness going on in my head.

When I'm able to peel myself out of bed and throw on clothes that don't resemble anything I was wearing during said debauchery, I haul myself into the nearest Jamba Juice.

Seriously, Jews have the high holy days to atone; Catholics have confession. As someone who closely resembles a Protestant, I feel I can wash away my sins with the use of a health shake. (Years of learned denial justify this thinking.)

There's something about being in an environment that's completely devoid of anything wrong or questionable. The Jamba store is filled with fruit, sorbet, ice, juice, and wheatgrass. I'll suck down my giant RazzMaTazz and feel all the regret of recent nights past filter out of my body with the help of the fiber boost. Once I've gone through my version of detox, I feel like I'm back to zero and all is right with my place in the world (meaning I feel more like the person my parents still think I am).

I got nuthin'

Well, not nothing, but I don't have much to blog about at length, however I don't want to face the wrath of Joy or Dru or Doctor (then again, they've gotten behind recently as well), so here's what's been going on in my electric world:

THE BAD:

I'm broke. I was really good about putting money aside for federal taxes, but completely forgot about state. Now I'm wiped out, and the nice cushion I had is almost depleted. Sad.

I want a boyfriend, and not because I'm broke, but because I need someone to do shit with. (Sorry for the repeat, Broc). I missed out on an opening at MOCA and seeing one of my clients headline at the Improv this weekend because no one ever wants to do anything. I want my +1.

THE GOOD:

Eugene Mirman. I finally devoted some time to checking out his web site, which is filled with funny videos and a photo of a child (presumably him) who sings songs like Friends in Low Places and Satisfaction. He's apparently one of the darlings of the New York comedy scene (Eugene, not the kid), so I'm definitely checking out his show when I'm there in September.

Sam Phillips. If you watch Gilmore Girls (and you should, and I don't want to hear any shit about it), she does the "la la la"'s in between scenes, as well as entire songs featured in the show. I guess she used to be a Christian recording artist, but I'll forgive her for that because now she's fucking awesome. I normally don't like female singer/songwriters, but what she does is so raw and stripped down that you can't help but feel for her and identify with what she's saying.

My drum lessons are going well. I slacked for a while, but my drum teacher, who's like the nicest guy in the world, got on me a few weeks ago, so since then I've really been devoting time to it. I've got some basic beats down and 10 of the 52 rudiments, and he's teaching me about "fills", what drummers use to bridge phrases in a song. When I concentrate, it's got me listening to music in a whole new way. Sometimes it's like hearing a song I like for the first time all over again, which is so exciting.

Gimme an A

My friend Ebony aka Adams aka Broccoli is defending her doctoral thesis tomorrow (5/11) on a topic about which I have absolutely no idea. Really, I think it has something to do with a guy named Frank. And I think he's an artist....or a writer. Honestly, even if she told me, I'm sure I couldn't grasp it.

I met Ebony in gym class in 7th grade. The first funny thing she shared with me was her imitation of what people look like when they laugh so hard that nothing comes out of their mouths. Ask her to do it for you sometime, it's hilarious. For the last 20 years (yeah, 20 mutherfucker), she's consistently been one of the funniest and smartest people I've ever known, which is saying a lot. She's found a way to seamlessly juxtapose enviable intelligence and leveling wit with a healthy dose of self-deprecation into one charismatic personality. And she has fantastic taste in men.

She's spent the better part of the last 10 years working on what she's presenting to the committee, a group of academics who will determine whether or not we get to spend the rest of time referring to her as "Doctor" (cause you know she'll make us). No matter what happens, it can't be argued that it wasn't time well spent. She finished. She'll know then what it is to see something through that's THIS monumental. If she has concerns about her future, she shouldn't; not much will be insurmountable in the face of this accomplishment.

Way to go, Broc. I'm proud of you!

Ed., this just in - she did it!

Crazy

Ok, new band time. On the advice of my drum teacher, I gave Gnarls Barkley a listen. Since it's one-half Danger Mouse (who brought us the infamous "Grey" album), it's got the pedigree of a supergroup.

Needless-to-say, it blew my mind. I could say that it's like sampled soul music, but that doesn't even scratch the surface (this is why I could never be a rock critic). It's got similar qualities of Platinum Pied Pipers, who I blogged about in November, but produced in a way that makes me feel like it's completely new. Their single out right now (and my new ringtone) is "Crazy".

Check it out and let me know what you think.

That's So My 20's

So, my co-worker recently went out with this guy, a fellow comic she met on MySpace. They took a novel approach to dating, kind of a 'pre-date', an idea that was recently highlighted during an episode of the Lisa Loeb show on E!. Instead of doing the dinner or drinks thing, they met at Best Buy and ran errands together, which I think is fucking genius. He explains it a lot better than I can, so I'm going to cut and paste his blog entry here:

Truth in advertising...

I'm convinced dates are a thing of the past. Archaic. Useless. Forced, unnatural, pressure filled social outings designed to scare both parties involved. No, kids, I believe we are seeing the end of the traditional date as a way of getting to know someone.

Now... let me pause and explain as to not offend the romantic crowd. Fancy clothes, posh restaurants, and whispered sweet little nothings still have a place. Just not at the start.

It goes like this...

Girl and Boy meet. How? Doesn't matter. Internet, work, or, say, comedy show. Whatever. They meet. There's something there. What? Girl and Boy aren't sure. Life is confusing. Romance doubly so. Girl and Boy talk (which in this day and age usually means through e-mail) and they decide that they should be in the same place, at the same time, in an effort to get to know each other better. They owe it to each other to at least investigate the pulse of a connection they may have stumbled onto. Maybe they'll become friends or maybe they'll find that they don't have anything in common. Or maybe they'll end up one day having awkward sex in a shower. You don't know any of this when you first meet. At the start you're just two people that like what they see and hear. No one meets someone and thinks, "Awesome. One day I am totally going to have a big screaming match with this person and break up, leaving both of us in tears and therapy." There is an inherent hope that comes with meeting someone new. Roll around in it and enjoy the ride, I say.

So, my point is, there is no need to dash that hope early with a big, fancy date. Half way through you could both realize that this ain't happening and now you're stuck with each other because the helicopter trip over the wilderness was paid for in advance. The key, folks, is to get your errands done.

That's right. Errands. Go to Best Buy and use that rebate card you've been meaning to spend. Go to a large department store and pay a bill. Or go to Home Depot to get that toilet part you've needed. Or do it all in one day. Just do it with that person you're trying to get to know. Yeah, it is a little awkward at first because these tasks are normally reserved for couples that have long since lost the passion for sex, small talk, or watching the same TV shows. But Girl and Boy aren't a couple... not yet or maybe never... too early to tell. Yet if you want to get to know someone then why start that process in a false reality? Why start it while trying to remember to keep your elbows of the fancy restaurant table? Go do what you would be doing on a Sunday afternoon if that person wasn't with you. Then, while you meander through the DVD racks or search through the toilet section at Home Depot, you can get a better handle on what that person is about. Then, and only then, will you learn that both of would rather search an entire hardware store for a cabinet catch that may or may not exist then dare to ask any store clerk for help in locating this mystery item. You're not going to learn that while rushing to make an eight o'clock dinner reservation. And, if things go really bad, and that person failed to even come close to matching the person they were while exchanging thirteen e-mails over the course of three days... then... well... at least you got your toilet fixed.

He's totally right. When you do the traditional date, it brings up all that anxiety about where to go, what to wear, all for someone you have no idea if you'll like. It makes more sense to save the dressing up, the waxing, the polishing, the cleaning (for girls, anyway) for someone worthwhile. So many times after unsuccussful first dates (and there've been many) I'm reminded of that Deana Carter album, "Did I Shave My Legs For This?". At least this way, all is not lost. You still used the rebate card.

I hear ya

I know I'm woefully behind in my blogging, which doesn't yeild the most loyal readership, but stay with me folks, I promise something later.

Crack Mama?

Now for something more lighthearted....

The "Caroline" who commented on my Idiot Boy entry is not the same one from the famed Thptpth, but instead from the more famous Caroline on Crack blog.

If you live in Los Angeles, there's a veritable cacophony of restaurants to try, bars to drink in, places to meet a potential date, and bakeries to experience the perfect cupcake. I like to think after 10 years that I have a pretty impressive mental database, but sometimes it's nice to pick the brain of someone like-minded.

CoC does a terrific job of reviewing all of the above and more in a simple, yet thorough, post. She provides first-hand knowledge and often a photo to help illustrate the decadence of the pastry or the potential debauchery of the watering hole, making her blog even more addicting than the street drug she references.

Holy Crap, Maybe It Helped?

Great thanks to those of you who sent some warmth and hope for my friend. While she and those involved have a lot of life adjustments to make, the results that could have made the situation much worse turned out to be negative. And things on other fronts concerning this are progressing nicely. So....yay!

I Need Your Help

I got hit with some news last night concerning one of my dearest friends. Earthshattering, heartbreaking news that I'm still stunned and numbed by.

Things are bad for her now. Truly, utterly horrible, at a time when I, stupidly, didn't think things could get much harder for her. And it could potentially get worse.

I don't ask for much - seriously - but I'm calling in favors now. Please, think good thoughts and send good vibes out in my direction and I'll pass them on to her. If you pray, do that too. I really, really need for this to happen.

Thanks.

What are you TALKing about?!

So, a certain guy who I may or may not have mentioned on here just pulled a doozy.

For my own sanity, I'd kept my distance from him since the holidays because, quite frankly, I was tired of being dicked around. And not in the good way.

So we talked last week briefly, the first time in a while, at which point he stressed that he was "absurdly horny". Direct, sure, but flirty all the same.

I invited him to my bday shindig, which he responded to quickly.....with a +1. So I sent him an AIM with, "hiya, who ya bringin?" Here's how he replied:

[17:05] ME: who ya bringin?
[17:06] Idiot: well....i was gonna talk to you about that
[17:06] Idiot: ive been seeing someone.....
[17:07] Idiot: and i was wondering if it woudl be ok with you to bring her
[17:08] Idiot: annnnnnd....silence
[17:08] ME: are you serious?
[17:08] Idiot: um
[17:08] Idiot: yes?
[17:09] Idiot: i am now feeling retarded
[17:09] ME: yeah, I think that's a bad idea
[17:10] Idiot: ok
[17:10] Idiot: im sorry
[17:10] ME: no worries
[17:10] ME: I just think it's inappropriate
[17:10] Idiot: ok
[17:10] Idiot: im wickedly embarrased
[17:12] ME: well.....
[17:21] ME: in fact, and not to sound like a dick, but I think it's best that you don't come at all
[17:22] Idiot: ok
[17:22] Idiot: fair enough
[17:22] Idiot: again...im sorry
[17:23] ME: hey, there's nothing to apologize for

I ask you, can you beLIEVE that shit?!

Now, by no means were we serious or together or even dating, really, unless you count a bunch of nights hanging out in bars and drunken hookups as such, but you know, there was somewhat of a courting period, and that one night when I stayed over and he fell asleep...holding my hand and smiling, which is when I stupidly started to care.

But I mean....REALLY.

To my mutherF*&#*@$ birthday party!

Giddy-up

I played the ponies this weekend for the first time at Santa Anita. I highly recommend going to your local track if you get a chance. You're outside, you can gamble, and there's all sorts of terrific crappy grandstand food to fill up on like beer and hotdogs.

Me in a nutshell - the last month

Old roommate drama, fell down stairs at work, busted toe, friend drama, friend drama, got the flu, more friend drama, people are crazy, is mercury still in retrograde?, spent the weekend in SF, partied like a rock star, chilled, ate some amazing food, saw Dave Chappelle's Block Party (which I HIGHLY recommend), drove back in a torrential downpour, came back to work drama, Mom comes to town tomorrow (so a good chance for parental drama), rinse and repeat.

And I have a big fat reminder next week that I'm getting older.

I got chills....they're multiplyin'

Ok, so I'm writing this after the fact, but here it is: I had the flu. Granted, it was a 24 hour bug, but jesus, it was enough to make my bathroom look like Vietnam.

I'd rather have a cold for three weeks than one day of having to choose which end things were going to come out of. Ew, I know.

All I can say is, God bless Homegrocer.com

Also, I busted my toe falling down the stairs at my office. WTF.

Uma....Oprah....Oscar

I don't have much to offer regarding last night's event de cinema, other than that I'm now even more in love with Jon Stewart than I was before.

Forgive me if it's lame to blog about a blog, but Dave Barry's account is so much funnier than anything I could come up with:

THE ACADEMY AWARDS
I didn't see any of the movies nominated for Best Picture. This is because I'm the parent of a 6-year-old, which means I see only those movies where the plot involves cute but lovable animals who talk in the voices of famous celebrities, one of whom, by law, must be Whoopi Goldberg. So I have no opinion about who should win any of the awards. But I'll watch anyway, because (a) it is everyone's patriotic duty to watch, and (b) I feel a connection to the Oscars, having written an estimated .0000017 percent (by volume) of Steve Martin's monologue when he hosted the show a couple of years ago (my account of that experience is here and here). I'm hoping for a snappy, fast-paced broadcast finishing no later than dawn Eastern Time.

UPDATE: Everybody is very excited.
UPDATE: Tim Burton's hair was apparently styled by rabid squirrels.
UPDATE: In case you're wondering -- and I know you are -- I'm wearing a University of Miami shirt in green and orange. The stains? They are by spaghetti.
UPDATE: I can't believe this. Not only did I not win Best Supporting Actor, but apparently I wasn't even nominated.
UPDATED: That Ben Stiller suit? I have that.
UPDATE: If you wear giant matching bow ties to accept the award, they should take the award away.
UPDATE: Do we think Dolly Parton lost a little too much weight?
UPDATE: If I don't win Live Action Short this thing is rigged.
UPDATE: Man, they start playing the get-off-the-stage music the instant the winners get on the stage. Maybe they should just have the presenters heave the statuettes into the audience.
UPDATE: I think we've reached the part of the show where you can go out for a while, maybe play a round of golf, and not miss anything.
UPDATE: The makeup guy just thanked the entire LA telephone directory.
UPDATE: Women have to pull the coveralls all the way down?
UPDATE: Lauren Bacall should just put on her glasses.
UPDATE: So they had about 57 feet of material left over, so they just bunched it up it on Charlize's shoulder, clearly intending to cut it off before she went onstage, but then...
UPDATE: March of the Penguins! A movie I actually saw! Yay.
UPDATE: Regarding the careerbuilder.com commercial: I don't know about you, but if I worked with dozens of monkeys, I would NOT want to change jobs.
UPDATE: Keanu and Sandra sure are excited to be giving out Best Art (snooorre) Direction.
UPDATE: No matter what he is actually talking about, Samuel L. Jackson always looks like he is just about to kick somebody's ass.
UPDATE: NOW is when we need the get-off-the-stage music.
UPDATE: This guy fails to mention that when you share the movie experience with total strangers, you also have to listen to their cell phones ring.
UPDATE: They should have Salma present all the awards.
UPDATE: She could also do the commercials.
UPDATE: Although she is nowhere near as hot as my wife.
UPDATE: They are setting some kind of world indoor record for most montages.
UPDATE: This attractive couple is really into sound mixing. You can just tell.
UPDATE: Aww. The sound mixers are thanking their moms.
UPDATE: Hey! A montage!
UPDATE: Terrific speech by Robert Altman. For real.
UPDATE: At least it's not a hip-hop montage.
UPDATE: Did they bleep the hip-hop guys?
UPDATE: I like the fake attack ads. And I think Jon Stewart's doing a good job.
UPDATE: Those sound guys really looked like sound guys.
UPDATE: I think a deceased-person montage is coming up.
UPDATE: We're supposed to go to Tsotsi.com. Maybe there's a montage.
UPDATE: Another mom-thanking! Yay for moms.
UPDATE: American Inventor? American Inventor?
UPDATE: 30 years after Grease, and my wife still has a crush on John Travolta.
UPDATE: I can't believe I didn't get Best Actress.
UPDATE: I have nothing at this time.
UPDATE: He thanked everybody in China. That has to be a record.
UPDATE: Crash. Whoa. OK, then. Good night, all. Happy montages.

God Bless 1s and 0s

I know wireless technology, and laptops for that matter, have been around for quite a while, but I'm sitting outside the coffeehouse around the corner from my place (yes, in early March. Let's give a shoutout to LA while we're at it.), completely disconnected from an outlet and telephone or cable cord, drinking hot raspberry tea, checking my email, smoking a cigarette, watching traffic go by just a few feet from me, and talking to a friend of mine over AIM who's thousands of miles away.

Pretty sweet.

Tag

I know, huh? It's been a while. I've really had nothing new to report, so I'll offer yet another cool web thingy that I found.

Dodgeball.com is a service that works with the web and your cell phone. You sign up on their site and link to friends. While you're out, say, at a bar, you send a text to Dodgeball with the name of the place, and it sends notices out to the friends you've linked with letting them know where you are if they want to meet up. It's free and it serves 22 cities. If you don't want to be found, you just don't check in, and if you don't want notices from your friends, you just send an "off" message to the service.

I'm on the LA one, obviously, but if you want to link to me, I'm on the home page (still, I think) and signed up under my hotmail account.

Hey Mr. DJ

My friend Nic just introduced me to the newest way I can procrastinate at work AND listen to music: Pandora.

From their home page:

Can you help me discover more music that I'll like?
Those questions often evolved into great conversations. Each friend told us their favorite artists and songs, explored the music we suggested, gave us feedback, and we in turn made new suggestions. Everybody started joking that we were now their personal DJs.
We created Pandora so that we can have that same kind of conversation with you.

Basically, you type in a band name or song title and based on a bunch of scientific criteria, they find other music in their library that matches and plays it for you. From this, stations are created and they'll save them in your account so you can access them later. It's a great way to discover artists you might not have otherwise heard of.

Puppy Bowl II

Ok, I'm blatantly copying my friend Todd, who just blogged about this on My Space, but it's worth spreading to the masses, so WTF.

Animal Planet came up with the genius idea to counter-program against the Super Bowl using a show that features puppies. Yup, just puppies. Puppies playing on a mock football field with toys, specifically. And when they piddle, a ref enters and throws a flag down (their version of a penalty) and cleans it up. I discovered it last year as I was cleaning my place to have a couple of friends over to watch the game. I was flipping channels near MTV to find some music and there it was - Puppy Bowl. I was transfixed, and as my friends and I watched the "real" event, we found ourselves changing back more and more.

It's too damn cute for words and, I swear, feeds my soul.

Just a number?

22. Jebus.

How old do you act?

She chops

This one is for you, Ms. Adams:

Broc

Not so "Simple"

Found a new group I like: Simple Kid . I think he's just one guy, which makes me think he's like a combo of Badly Drawn Boy and The Incredible Moses Leroy . Anyway, when you get to his site, click on the menu button on the lower right, then MP3, and listen to "Staring at the Sun".

Too many Van Pattens work in Hollywood

Thanks for nothing, Dick.

http://www.imdb.com/find?q=%22Van%20Patten%22;s=all

Ouch.

Did you ever look at an inanimate object and think, "Somewhere, I bet there's a fetish group for that."?

Rock on!

So, until Friday, I had no idea that Urban Dictionary existed. Be sure to check out my friend Rory's word that was just added, "Keith Mooned".

On the lighter side...

I was reviewing my last few posts and realized I've done a lot of bitching lately. In the interest of lightening up, I thought I'd treat everyone to a photo of some beagle puppies. Really, is there anything cuter?

All together now: awwwwww!

Verizon DSL can kiss my 2006 ass

I wish I could be more eloquent, but at this particular moment I'm in the middle of my second cold in a month. I blame the climate changes during holiday travel, too many time zones, and my own mother's germs for getting me to this point. And on my two days off before I go back to work, too. Blech.

Anyway, I'm posting this for anyone who might be considering Verizon DSL. They blow. They dicked me out of service for two months as I remained in some sort of customer limbo, and when I tried to get to the bottom of it (during my vacation, *ahem*), they were less than helpful and hung up on me. After HOURS waiting in the queue during various calls.

Adelphia, here I come.