Thursday, January 31, 2008
Monday, December 10, 2007
I wish I could switch back and forth between time zones. My alarm clock would be on Pacific time and my work clock would be on Eastern.
Why don't you just wish to for the power to time travel? I mean, isn't that pretty much what you're saying? You'd travel back in time to sleep longer and then travel forward to the end of work, right?
Have you seen Click?
Didn't you learn anything?
You want to wake up one day 30 years in the future and everyone you love hates you and you don't know your children?
So I was supposed to learn something from it?
A couple days ago I watched that "more cowbell" SNL skit, you know with the Morty guy from Click?
Yeah. Christopher Walken.
Right. I gotta say man, it's funny but I can't believe how popular that thing is.
Yeah. I mean there are t-shirts and everything. People always use lines from it in their online signatures or whatever.
I hate those online signatures.
Me too. Why do I care what your favorite line from your favorite movie with your favorite actor is? Well, I don't.
Friday, November 30, 2007
So did you hear that several years ago Romney claimed to be a Red Sox fan but then said it had been 87 years since winning the World Series not 86? Every real Sox fan knew that. Everyone who likes sports knew that. 2004-1918=86.
Well, maybe Mormons don’t follow sports.
That’s absurd. Have you ever heard of Steve Young?
There you go. All Mormons.
Well, maybe he just got confused.
Whatever. He totally lost my vote.
All because of one small sports trivia mathematical error?
Well, I guess to be honest, he never did “have” my vote. I’m for a McCain/Huckabee ticket. If that happened I couldn’t be more tickled.
I know absolutely nothing about the Huck. The Incredible Huck! That’s good stuff!
Yeah, you should be his PR guy.
I totally should. I’d get paid to drive around the country in a huge green, menacing bus with his name painted on the side like it was exploding out of the side of a mountain or something. We’d roll into small town America and the masses would come flocking. I’d turn on the PA system and blast “Enter Sandman” by Metallica. Then Huck would come out all painted green and he’d rip off his shirt while Lou Ferrigno in a tux passed out little American flags and Tootsie Rolls.
That sounds like the coolest political event in the history.
The history of what?
Nothing. Just the history.
People usually say “the history of … [something].”
Well, I just meant the history.
Cool. I don’t think you should be so hard on the Mormon for getting sports trivia wrong. I mean, I know nothing about sports trivia even though I consider myself a huge sports fan—at least a huge baseball fan.
You like the Cubs, right?
When was the last time they won the World Series?
How many years has it been?
99. 100? I’m going with 99.
See? And you’re not even running for president.
I have to tell you what the local radio station did.
Whoa. Big jump in topic.
Anyway...Tori Amos is coming in concert soon so they apparently got together with Tori and auctioned off a one-on-one piano lesson with her. It came down to a girl from Ohio and some “anonymous” local chick. It ended up going for $9000. Can you believe that? The money goes to a local foster child organization but still. Wow.
Was the local chick really not anonymous? Was it Marie Osmond?
I have no idea.
You say “anonymous” as if it wasn’t really anonymous.
Oh, well, who knows. Who knows what anonymous means. We’re all anonymous. Anyway, it’s my belief it was Tori herself. I think she wanted to donate a lot of money to the agency. Plus the one who won said she didn’t even want the piano lesson. She said she wanted one of the foster kids to have it.
What the devil does that mean? “We’re all anonymous.” It’s like some cheesy pseudo-deep poster.
I don’t know. It just came out. I just let it flow. That’s how I roll.
Foster kids don’t know Tori Amos. I mean, foster kids probably don’t know how to play the piano.
No kidding. They probably think pianos are imaginary. Like unicorns.
So is Tori going to teach them “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star”?
I guess so. “Okay, this is middle ‘C.’ Good. Now, this is how you make a lot of money singing really depressing songs: ‘Why do we crucify ourselves? Why do we crucify ourselves?’”
They gave the woman who lost the auction free tickets to the concert and backstage passes and everything because she’d already bought her airline tickets to fly in.
No it’s not. I say, “Big deal. You lost. It’s your loss.”
Well, yeah, but losing to a foster kid?
Who said anything about a foster kid?
I said the charity was a foster kid home.
Well, I bet the “anonymous” caller was a foster kid.
What foster kid has nine G’s to drop? And why would they spend all that money if it’s just going to go right back to the place they’re staying at? That’s like saying, “I’m going to pay myself $9000.” It’s absurd.
Well, I think it’s absurd you think it was Tori.
Makes more sense.
You know what doesn’t make any sense? Losing an auction to a foster kid. You should never lose to foster kids.
I…I’m at a complete loss of words. I don’t know whether I should laugh or cry. But I’m leaning towards crying.
That’s because you’re a wuss.
I really am. That’s why I’ll never be a champion.
You and Sufjan must be kindred spirits or something. I bet if a foster kid beat him at something Sufjan would cry and then flap sadly away into the sunset.
Dude, he doesn’t wear the wings everyday! Anyway, he’s got the indie world in the palm of his sensitive hand. He’s a champion. Meanwhile, I’m just sitting here feeling bad for mankind—not being a champion.
You know if Tori adopted the foster kid I’d feel alright about this. But the idea of giving a foster kid a piano lesson from Tori Amos is as absurd as giving a homeless man a CD player and an LP to go with it.
Nice. Child services would never go for it anyway. She’s so mental. Crazy broad.
Yep. I totally could be if I had the guts. It’s not so far out of character.
Yeah. Totally in character. You’re a wumpus beastie.
What is that? Something from your fantasy nerdling books?
No. It happens to be from a nerdling computer game I had when I was eight.
I wish I’d had a childhood.
Wow. That sounds so needy and pleading.
It really was. The older I get the more and more I miss something that was never there.
You really need to get a set of Sufjan wings. And take up the banjo.
Good one. Who knew you were such a wuss?
Well, I bury it beneath three feet of cynicism.
So you’re the prototypical man. Except you don’t have big calluses. I bet you secretly love women singers even though you say you hate them.
No, you’re definitely wrong on that one. There are still only a few women singers I like. And Feist is one of them but I hate all her songs. Stupid “1,2,3,4.” Give me a break.
Feist sucks. Oh…I hate her. You should listen to this, though.
[Goes to www.myspace.com/seracahoone and pushes play on “Couch Song.” They listen for about a minute.]
This song makes me feel like I just dropped a quarter in the jukebox in the corner of this diner where I went on a first date with a cheerleader named Katie Amherst.
You went out with a cheerleader? You’re such a tool. And your whole teenage angst thing is a crock.
I know. It didn’t last long, though. She totally had a crush on me but we just didn't have anything to talk about. We ended up playing Mortal Kombat on Super Nintendo every Friday and Saturday night because we had nothing in common. She was unbelievably hot, though.
Wow, that sounds like such a typical story from high school. The whole, “Well, yeah, this girl liked me for no apparent reason and I didn’t like her but we went out on a few dates, made out and then broke up” story makes me want to vomit.
Why? Isn’t that the backbone of young adult Americana?
Maybe young good looking Americana. There’s nothing in our canon about schleps who get nothing.
So you should write a series of books about kids who are total losers. No happy endings. No fabricated plot lines. Just life in daily loser-dom.
I’ve wanted to write a story for years about two friends. One was going to be a reformed nerd who changed himself to fit in. The other was going to be always lonely; never being vindicated for never changing. The book would be a novel exploring if one should be true to oneself or if one should change oneself to fit in.
Dude, have you read The Perks of Being a Wallflower?
Nope. What is it?
It’s totally about what you just said. You have to read it.
I will. I actually feel like Napoleon Dynamite did an excellent job of depicting how weird people can be; that the big school nerd and the new Hispanic kid become friends is surprisingly accurate. The moments when Napoleon gets bullied by the fat kids are incredibly realistic.
And you know because that was you?
No because I went through high school. You don’t have to be the one getting picked on to know how it goes.