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I was born in New Jersey and lived there until I was ten (technically, 9 and 11 months–but who’s really counting?). When my family packed up and moved to southern California I suppose we were kinda like the Clampetts. Actually, we were nothing like the Clampetts. They were rich and proud of their roots.
Once in California, my parents tried to dress me for the part–or at least what they thought the part was. I wore loud, outrageous shirts. I remember a bright orange thing with no sleeves: it looked like a karate vest crossed with a pumpkin. Crimes against nature like floral-print shorts and aviator sunglasses too large for my face. My hair was combed in a style that completely didn’t fit my head–or even suitable for the hair I was born with (you can’t slick dense, curly hair). I’ll admit: I was excited too–it was exhilarating to be cool and on the cusp of fashion greatness. Alas, “cool” is a relative term. What I thought was cool was miscast in Southern California, and–unfortunately for my self-esteem–the kids started laughing at me before I even made it to the bus stop.
In junior high I decided to adopt the . . . . .
This is part two of a story I set out to tell the other day. Hopefully this time I’ll stay awake long enough to finish.
I recently moved into an apartment that put me in the ideal situation to steal cable. See, stealing cable is no easy task. You need to find the right conditions to make it work. By my rough (uneducated) statement, it can probably be done in most apartment buildings. Unfortunately, I haven’t lived in any of those apartment buildings until now.
The important thing to remember about stealing cable is that you can’t be picky. You might not get 200 channels. You might not get HD. You might not even get a perfect picture. Luckily for me, I’m willing to settle for what I can get (look at my car, my job, my wife, my life). I don’t need the finer things in life. I don’t need BET, Bravo, or HGTV. Heck, I don’t even need 50 channels. As long as I get ESPN, ESPN2, and Fox Sports I’m a happy man. Anything else is cake because the only reason I want cable is to watch baseball (that and the sheer joy of stealing cable).
Once . . . . .
For our honeymoon, The Wife wanted to go to go to an exclusive, fancy, hoity-toity tropical hotel where she could drink margaritas on the beach and fall asleep while listening to the waves crash. When I told her it sounded like she wanted to be in a Corona commercial, I ended up with an unwanted finger rammed up my nose.
One of the keys to her dream honeymoon was to be able to eat at an all-inclusive hotel. We knew we’d probably end up paying a little more compared to if we purchased everything à la cart, but we didn’t care. By our nature, The Wife and I tend to be, uh, very careful with our money. We knew that if we had to fork over ten bucks for every margarita we drank, we’d end up margarita-less and as sober as David Crosby (he’s clean now). But by going to an all-inclusive hotel, not only would we downing cocktails like Barney Gumble, we’d also buy drinks for anyone who asked. So we settled for a fancy resort on the Yucatan pennisulia that cost more per day than I could every dream to make.
The restaurants at the hotel were so . . . . .
I don’t watch much television outside of shows created by Jerry Seinfeld, animated by Matt Groening, or voiced by Trey Parker–so I’m not exactly the world’s foremost expert on television. There are many shows I’ve never seen. I don’t know what Colbert is reporting, who O’Reilly is factoring, or why stars are dancing. I can’t tell the difference between Larry King and Lou Dobbs. I thought Wolf Blitzer was a cook.
Even with all I don’t know, I can’t imagine there’s a bigger blowhard of hot air than the obnoxious Nancy Grace. I’ve never sat down to watch her program because I prefer my news from a more reliable source (like theonion.com); however, The Wife is a big fan of her show and since it’s on 48 times a day, I’ve managed to pick up tidbits here and there.
Nancy Grace is exactly what’s wrong with television news personalities. Hell, her show is the ultimate example of the sensationalistic nature of the media. Every episode of her show acts like it’s uncovering the greatest mystery the universe has ever seen. On screen, there’s a rolling ticker that updates whatever story she’s discussing (from her own slanted view) with the label . . . . .
I was driving past a Jiffy Lube a saw a banner that caught my eye: Gift Cards Available. Who’d give someone a Jiffy Lube gift card as a present? I know gift cards are big-time money makers, but isn’t that grasping at straws. Imagine waking up, the morning of your one-year wedding anniversary and find your beau bought you a Jiffy Lube gift card. What better way to say ‘I love you’ than a complementary oil change. How many birthday boys out there are secretly hoping to get a gift card to Jiffy Lube? I can’t think of a single possible scenario where a Jiffy Lube gift card is considered an acceptable gift. I would love to meet the genius who thought that was a good idea.
I hate sequels. That’s it–I’m done with them. I don’t care if there is another “Back to the Future,” “Indiana Jones,” “Die Hard,” or even “Simpsons Movie.” I’m done. After “Kingdom of the Crystal Skull” I have decided to stop being part of the problem and start being part of the solution.
Hollywood churns out sequels because the movie has a built-in audience. There are a large number of people bound to see . . . . .
It was a very interesting day. Long, but interesting.
Why did I say that? I hate the word ‘interesting.’ To me, 90 per cent of the time when people use the word ‘interesting’ it’s because their vocabulary isn’t diverse enough to describe what they want. Look at the word. Interesting can mean so many different things. It’s a word without a set definition. For example, if you described someone’s haircut as interesting you didn’t describe it at all. Is it a good haircut or a bad haircut? Is it something odd or unusual? ‘Interesting’ says nothing about the haircut because the word is so indescript.
I’ll get off my high horse now.
I just read that Hollywood is planning on remaking “The Day the Earth Stood Still.” This is on a day, when I discovered a remake of “Fahrenheit 451” is also in the works. I find this to be so appalling. This is just the state of the movie business nowadays–because it is a business and quality films aren’t the slightest concern of Hollywood executives. It just irks me–there isn’t a single fresh idea out there. Why would they? Why would Hollywood gamble $50 million on unique idea that . . . . .
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