Last night, trying to sleep, M and I heard a faint beeping noise. It was pretty steady and high pitched. We have very thick walls between our home and the neighbors. We never hear babies crying or dogs barking or anything else exciting. This was different. I went outside to see if this was coming from next door or maybe outside. Sure enough it was coming from the empty unit to our left and it sounded like a smoke alarm. I don’t know what these people do, and they seem nice enough. They keep some odd hours. They’re home during the day sometimes and gone at night, taking separate cars. Anyway, last night, while alarms were going off in their house, no one was home. The owner is on the condo board, so I went to ask some board members if they knew how to get in touch with them – no luck there. You’d have thought I was soliciting money for the kegs n legz fund based on their reactions though. So the house next door might be burning up and they’re not home, what should be done? We called the fire department, who arrived promptly and decided to look around and when no visible smoke was available, declined to break down the door to find the cause of the alarm. They asked that we keep an eye open for smoke and go back to whatever we were doing. Ok, I’ll go to sleep with a fire next to my head. Sweet. Turns out it was most likely a dead battery or something similarly lame. Another unnecessary awkward interaction with our fellow homeowners. I guess it’ll be a big laugh at the next block party that we skip. Good to know the town has a decent (sub 5 minute) response time. Sorry we rousted you, fellas.
I ate an ‘Angry Whopper’ recently. I don’t eat a lot of fast food anymore. I eat a lot of what people would consider healthy/hippie/yuppie foods, vegetables, whole grains, low or no sugar, minimally processed stuff. I’m not a zealot. I don’t preach to others. I ate whatever I wanted for years and I was fine. It just happens that I tend to feel better overall when I stick to these kinds of foods. I was excited to eat the Angry Whopper. I love the Whopper Jr. In general, I prefer Burger King to other fast food places. The flamey taste and creative sandwiches keep them in my good graces. The Angry Whopper commercials promised pissed off onions raised on fear and animus. The man on TV ate one and then poured ice in his mouth afterwards. There were jalapenos on the Angry Whopper. I asked for recommendations from the counter staff and a helpful teenager vowed for its feistiness. Another wouldn’t eat it because of his bleeding ulcers. Why a teenager has bleeding ulcers, I have no idea, but no Angry Whoppers for him. I was hungry and wanted to dance with six bucks worth of snorting, Roger Clemens with liniment everywhere, roid raging Angry Whopper. It was fine. The onions were sleep deprived instead of angry. I saw jalapenos, but couldn’t feel their sting. The brown sauce had some snap, but I wasn’t rushing for the ice machine. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. A truly enraged whopper would probably give Daisy Mae a heart attack and the King would be out on the street. It wasn’t as disappointing as the spicier but less biologically friendly spicy baconator, which I didn’t want to finish, but I had high hopes here. I have plans for a truly malevolent burger to be released this summer. To be continued…
I had an existential crisis at work recently. I’ve written about the Wii that they bought for us and the ‘team building’ and camaraderie it’s brought. I have to say that it really does bring people together that normally wouldn’t interact and for that it has served its purpose. The most popular game for it has become the bowling. The guitar heroes were a little too heroic and scared off the less intense players, so most people gravitate to the less intense, but more competitive bowling. It allows for a bit of one up-mans-ship and you can bang out a frame in 20 minutes or less. I’d played at Thanksgiving and then Again at Christmastime at an off-site location and got the hang of the bowling a little earlier than the others and soon I was dominating. I had the coveted ‘pro’ status and the blinged-out ball that comes with it. I rolled through the first few rounds of the company tournament, crushing my opponents and talking tons of trash. Then I lost. My game stopped working. I have no idea what happened. I lost in the finals to a chump, a part time player who can’t break 200. My fans were shocked. Now it’s like I got off the juice and showed up at camp 30 lbs lighter and a step slower. I can’t get the big snap on my break. I’m averaging 140 and my pro status and ball are long gone. Whatever I had, it’s gone. I’m trying to rebuild myself, Steve Austin style, to be bigger, faster, better, but it’s not working. I’m looking like the early 90’s Greg Norman, minus the vineyards and mega yacht and sleek blonde locks. Maybe I can scrape together a few strong sets and catch a break or two along the way, but I fear my Wii bowling championship days are behind me. It’s the first time in my life I’ve ‘lost’ something I had. I don’t know what’s next, but the slow inevitable decline has begun. Get me my lounger, sweatpants and comb-over.
If you have a chance, and didn’t see it, try to check out Lil Wayne on the 2/10 edition of ‘Around the Horn’. ATH is a sports oriented talk show where topics of the day are argued about in a round robin format. The host scores the argument and gradually the 4 sportswriter participants are eliminated and the last man (or woman) standing gets 30 seconds to speak their mind. If you don’t know, Lil Wayne is a New Orleans based rapper with a few Grammys to his name. Born in 1982, he’s been a paid performer since he was 15 and had been arrested multiple times for possessing large quantities of drugs. I mention his youth and criminal record not to disparage the man, but to point out he was going up against several middle aged men who write professionally for major newspapers and have won awards for their reporting. Lil Wayne also recently received an Aston Martin from his father for either being nominated for 8 Grammys or being clean of Lean for 30 days. What’s lean? Lean is a drink consisting of Codeine-laced cough syrup/sizzurp (this is important!), Sprite (or other fruit flavored soda), and a jolly rancher or two, you know, for extra flavor. It’s not a performance enhancer in the A-Rod sense, probably more in the Michael Phelps neighborhood. Anyway, while I was listening to ATH on a podcast, I was curious about Mr. Wayne’s sports commenting abilities. I know he wrote a few blogs for ESPN, so he had to have some credibility, but how would years of touring and lean affect Weezy? I guess they didn’t. Lil Wayne was well thought out and made some excellent points and even though the event was rigged, I enjoyed listening to him more than some of the resident experts on that show. So if you’re reading this and saw a guy in a bright yellow jacket laughing hysterically to himself on the train this morning, it was probably me. As an aside, I read that the owner of the Phelps bong tried to sell it on EBay for $100,000.00! Amazing. The police did end up confiscating it. I guess South Carolina is a little different from Northern California when it comes to this sort of thing…
I’ve seen a few movies recently, although none were really worth commenting about at length. I’ll try for a sentence or two… ‘Appaloosa’ - Entertaining Wild West shoot ‘em up. Renee Zelwegger without the scrunchy face. Vigo Mortensen without any embarrassing steam room fight scenes. Good stuff. ‘Barcelona’ – Two guys in 1980s Barcelona want to get some Spanish girlfriends. Kind of weird. ‘Volver’ – Penelope Cruz and a bunch of other people in Madrid have some family issues and deal with them in their own special way. Entertaining, with subtitles. I do appreciate how foreign movies sometimes deal with subjects that would get an American movie a NC-17 rating, but since there are subtitles, the censors probably fall asleep or assume most Americans can’t read and let all sorts of wildness slide. ‘He’s just not that into you’ – Once again my corollary about girl movies having no men’s room lines came true. This was better than most romantic comedy fare and had a few legitimate laughs in it. There’s a lot of truth in here too, which I appreciated. ‘Half Nelson’ - The guy from ‘The notebook’ decides to teach high school history and smoke some crack along the way. Not uplifting, but thought provoking.
I made a new toy for the monkey bars routine. I had an old deflated basketball that I filled with sand and covered with tape and now serves as a medicine ball of sorts. I was surprised at how much sand went in there, considering that I bought a 50lb bag (which wasn’t very big, but was suitably heavy). Most of the sand ended up in the ball, which was 3-5 times heavier than most regulation medicine balls. Coming in at a hefty 36lbs, this is not appropriate for most medicine ball exercises which consist of throwing the ball to someone else (have you even thrown something weighing close to 40lbs at someone?) or doing athletic movements with the ball. The weight isn’t really a setback though, since the unconventional shape and surface require strength and movements that I hadn’t used previously. I’m very happy with it so far. I say so far because I know I’m going to drop it on my face one of these days and seriously regret the ‘if a little is good, a lot must be better’ approach I took to making it. I know it’s a little old school, but I’m not going to be growing any handlebar mustaches or sporting any single shoulder unitards like a circus strongman anytime soon. Eugene Sandow can rest peacefully. I am considering using another 50lb sack of sand as a heavy bag to pick up and carry around, but I need to construct something that will hold together if and when I drop it. I suspect the paper bag it comes in isn’t up to the task.
Last but not least, I’m going to be an uncle. The younger male sibling has announced his intentions to populate the world with his progeny. I’m happy for him and the rest of the world. We need more stable, intelligent children to compete with the California octobabies. This will mark the 20th!! child whose parents are friends/relatives/coworkers I am on friendly terms with. You want a kid, become my friend by March 1st and chances are you’ll be claiming another dependent for your 2009 taxes. I should start a facebook group and charge admission.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
no posts?
http://www.postcardsfromyomomma.com
I have some interesting things to say, I just can't get them organized. Read this site instead. It's funny.
I have some interesting things to say, I just can't get them organized. Read this site instead. It's funny.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Bad Ideas
Hello Kitty Tattoos. In general, I have come to understand tattoos are a bad idea for many people. There’s a tattoo philosophy that says if you don’t want 3 (or 5 or 7) tattoos, then don’t get one, since if you like the first one, there is a chance you may get more. But if that idea does not appeal to you, then stay away altogether. If you can picture yourself with one or more, then ink away, but do so carefully. New laser surgery and pseudo temporary inks make them somewhat less permanent than they were, but they’ll never wash off like those cracker jack prize tats. Why Hello Kitty? On a trip to Pittsburgh, I stopped for lunch at a ‘SoupMan’ franchise and was served by a young woman with a 5” diameter Hello Kitty cartoon cat almost in the middle of her chest – definitely between the shoulders and below the neck. She wasn’t showing any more skin than was appropriate, but short of wearing a turtleneck, the body art was going to be visible. Maybe it seemed like a good idea at the time, and I admire the all-in aspect of getting an unorthodox tat in an unusual place. This was way cooler than a back of the shoulder dolphin or a ankle chain of roses or the hideously eye catching lower back ‘tramp stamp’(or the male equivalent – bicep barbed wire). But I have to wonder how cool this is going to be when she’s no longer pouring bowls of chowder for an hourly wage. I know quite a few people with regrettable or questionable tattoos. Some of them have deep personal meaning, but most of them lost their cool soon after and now look ridiculous. There was a big group of guys in my high school who found an unscrupulous artist in New Hampshire (before tattoo parlors were legal in MA) who would ink up just about anyone. And of course they went and got a slew of bugs bunny/bulldog/fighting irish tattoos on their upper thighs, so no one could see their new body art. In the 90s and 2000s there was a lot of tribal art going around. I think the ‘tribe’ the tattoos refer to is a variation on the Maori-style art done in black ink and in a geometric or patterned way. Celtic knot style tattoos were also very popular. Neither style is especially unique or remarkable. If I had to, there are a few ink roads I think I would go down. Given that none of these match what I thought would be cool back in high school, I’m glad these will most likely never happen. First off would be the Latin/Russian school of prison art. These are usually single color, very elaborate and full of symbolism. Unfortunately these are heavily regulated by gangs and wearing tattoos symbolizing acts you have not done can get you in trouble, so I will be avoiding these. Next would be some sort of giant body piece. This is really the only style that makes any sense to me. If you’re going to make modifications, make some big ones. I’m thinking about something encompassing the whole back, maybe extending to the legs, arms or even stomach. There are some incredibly detailed and downright creative artists out there. It would make for a great conversation starter, even if after you walked away everyone would make the ‘crazy guy’ gesture behind your back. The third style is harder to describe, but it’s the one I think looks the best and that’s the old-school sailor tattoos. They combine the great symbolic aspects of the prison art and the creativity and color of the bigger pieces. I think a lot of sailors still get these, although as many rotate out of the seafaring professions, their opportunities for covering their arms with sea maidens, mighty ships, monsters and anchors lessen. An old salt could tell his life’s story with his art, and since many of them were illiterate, this was possibly the best way to accomplish it. Bottom line is, tough looking prison or sailor tattoos = good. Hello Kitty Tattoos = bad.
Selling old plumbing on Craigslist. Since M and I redid the downstairs bathroom, we have had a vanity top, complete with sink bowl and faucet, sitting on the floor or our loft. There’s nothing wrong with it other than it didn’t fit in with our plans and sits forlornly waiting for its next home. I figured with the grand renovation budgets all over being slashed that the market for decent used bathroom parts would be robust. Not so. I put the whole thing for sale for $50 and didn’t even get a sniff. Now this could have been because geographically, people see the name of the location and think ‘where is that place?’ or ‘I’m not driving out there for that’. But after polling others who had done bathroom renovations, I found out old sinks go to the dump, not the used sink store. Still, there are other sinks for sale at higher prices. I’m starting to think the vultures are waiting for the price to go down to free before we’ll be rid of it.
Breaking ice dams with a shovel. There have been some ferocious, nearly record setting snow storms in our part of the world recently. As soon as the last storm is cleaned up, another one or two come by and dump 8 more inches of snow. If we lived out by Jackson Hole and tended bar to pay for our ski tickets, I think M and I would be down with this, but we are not. During the first really big storm we got, M stayed home and noticed there were some ferocious icicles hanging off the roof. Since we had just seen a TV special on the merits of snow rakes and preventing ice dams, this was close on her mind and she asked me to call the condo association to warn them. Supposedly they sent someone out to check things out, but by the next day they were melted and gone. Turns out some of the melting went into our neighbors’ bedroom closet, causing quite a bit of damage. Since that happened, I have been on a mission to not let that happen to us. Every time it snows I keep a watchful eye on the gutters and melting roof snow to see where it’s starting to pile up and where possible, I try and break it loose. To accomplish this, I take a garden shovel to our master bedroom, open the windows and remove the screens and proceed to swing the shovel above the window and onto the roof. Sometimes a great icicle will calve and explode on the back porch, but most times I only splinter ice everywhere and get soaking wet. I am satisfied that this does something, since I am at least relieving some of the weight on the gutters and I see more water dripping from the broken icicles. Unfortunately, this is also incredibly frustrating. The ice piles are huge. I would need a hammer and a chisel to break them up. I know the condo people are wary of paying more insurance claims and I see there are contractors there this week, peeling the condos like bananas to fix whatever’s underneath. Hopefully they’ll do something by next year to fix it, but for now it’s just me swinging the shovel and trying to stay dry and not fall/fail.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
No resolutions... yet
2009 is going to mark the 10th (!!) year since I graduated college. I’m not sad or upset at that. It’s more like a sense of amazement that I’m starting to realize that time is sailing by pretty quickly. The self help industry has made itself a nice little niche by hammering on people’s insecurities about where they are when they turn 30. After all, 10 years is plenty of time to have started a job, gone to grad school, started a different job, gotten married and spawned a kid or two. Maybe you even bought a house? These are the things that some people think they’re supposed to do, right? Maybe you spent your 20s wandering around between jobs and cities, crashing on people’s couches, ‘finding yourself’? You could have 2 completely different people, both with the same base of 21 years or so of primary and secondary education and socioeconomic birth circumstances. They’d have an equally good chance of being completely miserable or beside themselves with happiness. I know people who are getting another graduate degree after they already graduated law school. I know people who only now just finished grad school and have the freedom of unencumbered employment for the first time at the age of 31. I know people who have had at least 3 completely different jobs since they graduated and still have no idea what they want. And everybody else falls somewhere in between. I do think I’ve been fortunate to have been exposed to enough elders in my relatively short adult life that I realize that whatever happened in 2001 and whatever happens in 2009 have almost no relation to what will happen in 2020 or 2031. Companies come and go, fortunes rise and fall. Circumstances force people to make hard decisions about what they need against what they want. I’ve worked with former prison guards, concrete workers, force recon marines and ski bum bartenders. Sure we crossed paths where we did, but that doesn’t mean that what I’m doing now is the path forever. One former colleague left and started a gym, another guy I know quit it all and became a chef and some others were forced out and still haven’t found work. Being out of work is a full time job for some people. I’d argue that surviving in a world that requires an income (houses, kids, cars) is harder than scraping by in one that doesn’t (hunter-gatherer living in a cave). I try not to have many regrets. There are certainly some situations that I wish I could take back, but there haven’t been many that were so profound that they changed the course of how I’ve played my hand. There’s still plenty of time for a big and fulfilling life. I’ve made choices that hopefully have me positioned to take advantage of opportunities that come my way. I’m looking forward to the next ten 10 years way more than how I felt back in January of 1999. Back then, I was terrified. I was on track for a couple of liberal arts degrees but then what? I’d invested considerable time in learning how not to fall asleep in a snowbank and other valuable life skills (I still know how to bull my way through a crowd without spilling anything on myself, although I don’t get to practice that one very much anymore. ). I had 3 reliable recipes that didn’t kill me or break the bank. I had a somewhat fading head of hair, a navy suit and a book on job interviews and not much else. My original plan was to get a high flying job somewhere and make the best of it. The placement office did a great job getting me a series of interviews that I thought I flourished in, but apparently I didn’t have that star power the judges were looking for. I still remember the jobs I didn’t get. I had whole plans for the life in LA, working up the chain at Toyota. I’d probably sitting in so cal traffic in my Prius right now and be hating the woeful state of the economy. There was the analyst job at Sanford Bernstein that I wore the mismatched suit to. I was going to live in Manhattan, go to B-school and become an investment banker. I’d be out of a job right now with 100,000 others just like me, except I’d be 50lbs heavier and be living in a $5000 a month apartment with no way to pay rent. Columbus, OH had a job at Abercrombie & Fitch. I had convinced myself that Ohio would be a fun place to live. I’d get to see Ohio State Football games and live cheaply. Since then Ohio State has lost more big games than I can remember and Ohio, despite being a fun swing state, is just above Michigan and Indiana on my list of places I want to live. Of course these never went beyond chatting up an overeager recruited who did this thousands of times a year, so I went home to find something else. I bought a Bridge for Dummies book and vowed to learn how to play cards and work on my golf game. I don’t know where this would take me, probably some sort of country club boy toy with a sugar mamma or high stakes hustler, separating codgers from their grandkids’ trust funds? I ended up taking the first thing that came my way and it got me directly to where I am now, so no regrets there. 2009 will also mark my first working years away from the George W. Bush era. It only recently occurred to me that the majority of my adult life has been spent with dubya in office. What would the world be like had grizzly Gore won? Had 9/11 not happened? I’m looking forward to the new regime. I’m looking forward to a progressive, intellectual leadership. This is an exciting time to be alive. I think we’ll see some things in the next ten years that are going to completely change the game. The boomers are retiring, genetics and computing research is starting to realize the next wave of achievements. The 60s, so long a source of strife and pride, is the realm of the old guard. The culture wars that were fought against commies seem quaint and archaic. People who grew up in the 70s and 80s fight different fights. Even the Vietnam War seems like a long distant memory. When someone says they’re a veteran, I picture a young person or even a woman. 10 years ago I didn’t have a cell phone or a computer. I didn’t instant message or use Napster. Although, speaking to M, who is a little younger than I, maybe I was living in a cocoon or in hiding. I bought a DVD player in 2000 and while it’s long gone, dvd are now almost obsolete. I still have the TV I bought in 2000, but M won’t let me throw it away. I’m thinking I should set some ten year goals, but so much is going to change between now and then I doubt that they’d still be relevant. Might be fun though.
Righteous Kill, starring Robert DeNiro and Al Pacino, written by the same guy who gave us the clever ‘Inside Man’, is a movie that should have happened 20 years ago. I’m not saying these two don’t have anything left in the tank. They do. DeNiro gave us a great dose of the dangerous, caged-animal type he did so well in Heat and Casino. Pacino still does the fiery, flamboyant, intelligent id-type he did powered out in Scent of a Woman and Glengarry Glen Ross. It’s just that these two have been playing the same characters for so long that they don’t have the same punch they once did. As everyone out there who gets reviewed for their job knows, if you’re always 20% better than everyone else, eventually it no longer becomes remarkable and you have to start being 30% better to still get the same recognition. There weren’t any surprises here and I suppose that was the surprise for me. The ingredients were all there for a great meal and we get served a Chili’s appetizer plate. I think old guys can still act – take a look at Anthony Hopkins and of course Clint Eastwood, but these two need to be take different types of roles, something where we can be reminded what they can do out there.
The House Bunny, with Anna Faris, was something I enjoyed quite a bit. Adam Sandler produced it, so expect a ton of 4th grade-level jokes, but they seem to come more naturally than in your typical offering of this genre. It’s an equal opportunity offender and has a somewhat less than wholesome message, but the low low expectations were pleasantly overcome with some laugh out loud moments. There are some big Hollywood stars’ kids in this one. I won’t reveal who they are, though. At first you’re staring at them and you know something isn’t right, but you can’t place it. Then when you’re saying, “that really looks like…” and you’d be surprised that you’re right. Although it’s bizarre what characteristics children of celebrities inherit. Makes me a little scared to think about what I’m going to be passing along… But I digress. It’s an enjoyable movie, akin to getting half your dessert in a doggie bag. You know it’s not great for you, but you don’t regret it afterwards.
Righteous Kill, starring Robert DeNiro and Al Pacino, written by the same guy who gave us the clever ‘Inside Man’, is a movie that should have happened 20 years ago. I’m not saying these two don’t have anything left in the tank. They do. DeNiro gave us a great dose of the dangerous, caged-animal type he did so well in Heat and Casino. Pacino still does the fiery, flamboyant, intelligent id-type he did powered out in Scent of a Woman and Glengarry Glen Ross. It’s just that these two have been playing the same characters for so long that they don’t have the same punch they once did. As everyone out there who gets reviewed for their job knows, if you’re always 20% better than everyone else, eventually it no longer becomes remarkable and you have to start being 30% better to still get the same recognition. There weren’t any surprises here and I suppose that was the surprise for me. The ingredients were all there for a great meal and we get served a Chili’s appetizer plate. I think old guys can still act – take a look at Anthony Hopkins and of course Clint Eastwood, but these two need to be take different types of roles, something where we can be reminded what they can do out there.
The House Bunny, with Anna Faris, was something I enjoyed quite a bit. Adam Sandler produced it, so expect a ton of 4th grade-level jokes, but they seem to come more naturally than in your typical offering of this genre. It’s an equal opportunity offender and has a somewhat less than wholesome message, but the low low expectations were pleasantly overcome with some laugh out loud moments. There are some big Hollywood stars’ kids in this one. I won’t reveal who they are, though. At first you’re staring at them and you know something isn’t right, but you can’t place it. Then when you’re saying, “that really looks like…” and you’d be surprised that you’re right. Although it’s bizarre what characteristics children of celebrities inherit. Makes me a little scared to think about what I’m going to be passing along… But I digress. It’s an enjoyable movie, akin to getting half your dessert in a doggie bag. You know it’s not great for you, but you don’t regret it afterwards.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
New Year’s - Almost
Back to reality, boys and girls. Well sort of. New Year's isn't here yet, but the big holidays are over. I never had much respect for New Year's Day. It just doesn't have the same cache that the other big days have. There aren't any real traditions that I know of. Other than finding an excuse to booze it up too much and stay up late, I'm not sure what makes New Year's much different from a Friday night. But I didn't come here to beat up New Year's eve or day. I used to like New Year's day, back when the family would gather around and watch college football bowl games and devour nachos, chips and dip and other assorted appetizer snacks. This was the one day a year we children were encouraged to eat this stuff and I went at it full force. Now the big bowl games are spread out over a week or so and are all played at 9pm eastern time, so as to not compete with one another. This doesn't do much to keep the kiddies interested. So there Tostitos Fiesta Bowl sponsors. I won't be watching your ads this year because the game isn't on the day I have off to watch such things.
New Year's is also supposed to be about resolutions or things you want to have great effect for the next 365 days and hopefully beyond. Last year M and I put more effort into this, with much better results than normal. I'm not sure if I'll do the same for this year. I probably will, just not with so many unrealistic goals. I like to improve my odds when I can. One of the resolutions I sort of have is to turn this into a forum for more regular types of posts. Originally I envisioned writing this as a series of dispatches from the country, a sort of modern day folk wisdom. Turns out I only had one or two folky posts in me and ran out of steam quickly. I actively try to avoid writing about work. I find work blogs to be just as tedious and full of hot air as the people I come across while working. I shouldn't be surprised at this and I am not. Occasionally I throw in a rant-type post, which is cathartic and hopefully amusing. I try to keep the tone somewhat upbeat. And then there are the mini-recaps of various meals or projects. I'm going to keep up with those as they come along. In addition to this stable of stud post options, I am going to try out a few new prospects in the next few months. If I like them, then that's what you'll get.
Today I'm going to talk about I movie I saw recently, called 'Burn After Reading'. This is a Coen brothers' joint, their first after the Oscar winning 'No Country For Old Men', which I really enjoyed. I've been a fan of Joel and Ethan since I saw 'Miller's Crossing' way back in the day. In subsequent re-views, I realize I had no idea what I was watching as a kid, but the characters in the movie hypnotized me. They made 'Raising Arizona', which I also enjoyed but in later viewing realized it was not a kids movie at all. Raising Arizona was also filled with memorable characters and this turns out to be the hallmark of a Coen brothers' movie. Unusual deaths play a big role too. They've killed people with a wood chipper, cattle gun, fireplace shovel, hatchet and a whole lot of guns. Based on this list, if you hadn't seen anything they'd made, you might think these are action or horror movies, but for the most part there are filled with long scenes of unusual dialogue and nuanced human interaction peppered with flashes of realistic violence. This, to me, seems so much more realistic and interesting than someone getting pumped full or bullets and crashing through windows to save the planet. When you click through the CNN crime section you rarely come across the successful brazen daylight bank heist and much more reliably read about the heat of the moment murder or the poorly conceived criminal plot and amateur cover-up attempt. The Coen brothers write some of their screenplays, and the dialogue is, at first, very strange. It's conversational rather than dramatic. Less hyperbole and more revelatory of the character speaking. Even if you are a spy or world leader, most conversations you have with people are about mundane things. You're not yelling or crying. You're trying to convey a point or win an argument or make a joke. Maybe you're just filling the silence. I understand movies are for escape and entertainment. Hearing about the plot to save the world or win the girl is more interesting than the fool who cut you off in traffic or hearing about your latest toothache. Maybe that's why the Coen brother movies are so unusual and why they stand out for me. Anyway, I learned in the bonus features of the DVD that 'Burn After Reading' was written specifically for the actors and actresses playing the roles. The movie wasn't going to be made unless George Clooney and John Malkovich were available. There was no casting call, no search for someone to play the tough guy or the leading lady. In this regard, I think the movie was successful. I couldn't' picture anyone else playing these roles. The plot was somewhat less successful, but I think that was secondary to the opportunity to show the audience who these people are for 90 minutes. The plot never resolves itself on screen, and I'm fine with that. Some people didn't like 'Burn After Reading' very much, but I did, if only for the scene of a drunken Malkovich slurring his way through a Princeton song with his college cronies. If it sounds bizarre, that's because it is and that's what makes it so wonderful.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Holiday Post
So I made it back from the final vacation of ’09 in one piece. Germany, it turns out, is an incredible place. Deutschelanders get a bad rap. As time as proven, Mike Meyers is a talentless fool and his Deiter/Sprockets routine isn’t even remotely close to any Germans I met. Indiana Jones has also tainted my image of Germans somewhat, but I wasn’t stealing any antiquities so those guys left me alone. Sure there were some severe mullets being sported, but for the most part the people we met could have been on any civilized street in the US. Notice I said civilized. I’m sure there are some German or Austrian rednecks out there and I’m sure they’re just as embarrassing, but I didn’t see any. It was a really angry salty cold out when we landed and it stayed that way for all but a couple of the days we were there, but we adopted some of the local adaptations. Namely eating as much street sausage and street wine as possible. Turns out Christmas markets are a sort of tailgate for the locals, except substitute ribs for 18 inch sausages and substitute chicken for cheese filled sausage and then swap burgers for curry sausages. Pickles get traded for sauerkraut, and cold beers get trades for steaming hot mugs of wine or kinderpunch. We stayed on the punch since I couldn’t read the signs stone sober and having a fuzzy head filled with steaming wine wasn’t going to help. I even discovered a stall that sold deep fried potato pancakes smothered in applesauce – why why why haven’t these made the trip over the pond yet? These were miles ahead of some dried out waffle fries or chalky steak fires you get at the carnival. Maybe it’s my fault for eating carnival food, but when I do, it needs to be shiny, salty and crispy. And best of all, since all of these things were served standing in a light drizzle or snow, you could eat them as fast as possible without fear of scalding your mouth beyond recognition. I may start wolfing down all my meals sans utensils and ankle deep in snow. (There’s about 2 feet of it right now, maybe I will….)
There were some other things we did on the trip. We saw a few castles, went to Salzburg and walked around Mozart’s old hood. We went on a tour about a movie? Something called ‘The Sound of Music’? I’ve never heard of this, but it’s quite popular. Except Austrians haven’t seen it and don’t know why so many people come to Salzburg to take a tour about the movie. I think there’s a lot of singing and dancing involved too – I’m way too manly to have seen this and even if I had seen it, my extreme manliness and interest in explosions would have blocked it out of my mind forever. Some call it cognitive dissonance. I say it’s physically impossible for someone to have seen something about a singing nun and some dancing singing children and be able to grow a prodigious beard at the same time. But I digress. Austria was excellent. M got us set up in a ridiculously nice hotel that had enormous racks of antlers everywhere. The room key weighed 5 lbs. The bathroom faucet was even heated so there was on-demand hot water. The Munich hotel was good too, but in a modern and minimalist way. I hadn’t been in an elevator with jungle noises before. I can now check that off the bucket list. We saw the Deutsches Muesum, which was by far one of the best museums I have ever visited. This was a museum of all things engineering. What would a true German museum be, anyway? There was mining, shipping, engines, electricity, timekeeping, weaving, manufacturing, metallurgy, bridge building, and a little astronomy. The WWII years were conspicuous in their absence, especially in the Planes/Ships section. Unfortunately we didn’t have time to see the whole separate wing dedicated to transportation (cars, trains) that I’m sure would have taken another day to visit. Even though 80% of the museum was in German, there were enough demonstration pieces to make it relevant. Just about anything big, like a bucket excavator or oil tanker, had a corresponding scale model with moving parts that came to life with the push of a button. There was even an entire room dedicated to an enormous model train complete with video feeds from the trains themselves, all orchestrated by a grinning trainmaster. Ordinarily I wouldn’t peg M as one for enjoying a machine museum, but this was an exception. There was one period of fatigue in the airplane engine exhibit, but overall we both had a great time there.
I was also pleased to see that the US does not have the monopoly on tacky crap. There was another market, away from the city center that M and I discovered. This was held in some of the gigantic tents where Oktoberfest takes place. When we investigated, we found an endless procession of incense booths, dreamcatchers, painted stones, magic pillows, wolf art, and super absorbent towels. It wasn’t quite a flea market, but it was definitely similarly bogus stuff. If you’re wondering if you’re getting any of this as a gift soon, you are not.
Shortly after we returned (7 hours to be exact) I got back on a plane to go to NYC for work. This particular project was a short one, so I promptly got on a plane on Monday and went right back home. Normally this would have been fine, but the combination of jet lag and clients calling me at home and denying me recovery time conspired to severely sleep deprive me. I may not look like a celebrity, but I sometimes travel like one. Somewhere in this swirl of re-circulated air, Guantanamo no-sleep torture and public doorknobs I picked up a nasty cold that refuses to leave. Despite my childhood of eating rusty nails and caterpillars, my immune system seems to have failed me here. Or maybe I am getting soft in my new world? Domesticated life took me out of the very grimy places that kept me ferocious and hardy. Or maybe the previous regime of all things bad brought my body into a sort of détente with itself keeping the illnesses balancing each other out in a House-like stasis?
Now for some lists:
Best Movies I have seen this year (in no particular order):
Charlie Wilson’s War
The Dark Knight
Iron Man
The Insider
No Country For Old Men
There Will Be Blood
Best Meals:
The Father’s Day Smokeout
‘John Travolta’ Pasta at Ristorante El Profeta (technically M’s meal, but I had a bite)
The Birthday Prime Rib
Great Successes:
Cheap Life Insurance
Kitchen Painted
Car Acquired
Bathroom Reno’d
Abject Failures:
Clockmaking
Herb garden
CFA
Projects to be added in the future:
Post and Beam house with wood fired pizza oven
Putting a large engine in a small car and going way too fast
Greenhouse
I’ve also made good progress on reading more. I always have a book that I’m working on and I limited the number of magazines that I receive so as to be able to dedicate the proper time to them. I feel I am getting more out of them now. M may not dance with joy when I start quoting chapter and verse from whatever I am currently reading, but I am the second most entertaining person I know, so how bad can it be?
I’m cutting this a little short now. I’d like to write more but this work thing keeps stealing my free time. Merry Christmas everyone.
There were some other things we did on the trip. We saw a few castles, went to Salzburg and walked around Mozart’s old hood. We went on a tour about a movie? Something called ‘The Sound of Music’? I’ve never heard of this, but it’s quite popular. Except Austrians haven’t seen it and don’t know why so many people come to Salzburg to take a tour about the movie. I think there’s a lot of singing and dancing involved too – I’m way too manly to have seen this and even if I had seen it, my extreme manliness and interest in explosions would have blocked it out of my mind forever. Some call it cognitive dissonance. I say it’s physically impossible for someone to have seen something about a singing nun and some dancing singing children and be able to grow a prodigious beard at the same time. But I digress. Austria was excellent. M got us set up in a ridiculously nice hotel that had enormous racks of antlers everywhere. The room key weighed 5 lbs. The bathroom faucet was even heated so there was on-demand hot water. The Munich hotel was good too, but in a modern and minimalist way. I hadn’t been in an elevator with jungle noises before. I can now check that off the bucket list. We saw the Deutsches Muesum, which was by far one of the best museums I have ever visited. This was a museum of all things engineering. What would a true German museum be, anyway? There was mining, shipping, engines, electricity, timekeeping, weaving, manufacturing, metallurgy, bridge building, and a little astronomy. The WWII years were conspicuous in their absence, especially in the Planes/Ships section. Unfortunately we didn’t have time to see the whole separate wing dedicated to transportation (cars, trains) that I’m sure would have taken another day to visit. Even though 80% of the museum was in German, there were enough demonstration pieces to make it relevant. Just about anything big, like a bucket excavator or oil tanker, had a corresponding scale model with moving parts that came to life with the push of a button. There was even an entire room dedicated to an enormous model train complete with video feeds from the trains themselves, all orchestrated by a grinning trainmaster. Ordinarily I wouldn’t peg M as one for enjoying a machine museum, but this was an exception. There was one period of fatigue in the airplane engine exhibit, but overall we both had a great time there.
I was also pleased to see that the US does not have the monopoly on tacky crap. There was another market, away from the city center that M and I discovered. This was held in some of the gigantic tents where Oktoberfest takes place. When we investigated, we found an endless procession of incense booths, dreamcatchers, painted stones, magic pillows, wolf art, and super absorbent towels. It wasn’t quite a flea market, but it was definitely similarly bogus stuff. If you’re wondering if you’re getting any of this as a gift soon, you are not.
Shortly after we returned (7 hours to be exact) I got back on a plane to go to NYC for work. This particular project was a short one, so I promptly got on a plane on Monday and went right back home. Normally this would have been fine, but the combination of jet lag and clients calling me at home and denying me recovery time conspired to severely sleep deprive me. I may not look like a celebrity, but I sometimes travel like one. Somewhere in this swirl of re-circulated air, Guantanamo no-sleep torture and public doorknobs I picked up a nasty cold that refuses to leave. Despite my childhood of eating rusty nails and caterpillars, my immune system seems to have failed me here. Or maybe I am getting soft in my new world? Domesticated life took me out of the very grimy places that kept me ferocious and hardy. Or maybe the previous regime of all things bad brought my body into a sort of détente with itself keeping the illnesses balancing each other out in a House-like stasis?
Now for some lists:
Best Movies I have seen this year (in no particular order):
Charlie Wilson’s War
The Dark Knight
Iron Man
The Insider
No Country For Old Men
There Will Be Blood
Best Meals:
The Father’s Day Smokeout
‘John Travolta’ Pasta at Ristorante El Profeta (technically M’s meal, but I had a bite)
The Birthday Prime Rib
Great Successes:
Cheap Life Insurance
Kitchen Painted
Car Acquired
Bathroom Reno’d
Abject Failures:
Clockmaking
Herb garden
CFA
Projects to be added in the future:
Post and Beam house with wood fired pizza oven
Putting a large engine in a small car and going way too fast
Greenhouse
I’ve also made good progress on reading more. I always have a book that I’m working on and I limited the number of magazines that I receive so as to be able to dedicate the proper time to them. I feel I am getting more out of them now. M may not dance with joy when I start quoting chapter and verse from whatever I am currently reading, but I am the second most entertaining person I know, so how bad can it be?
I’m cutting this a little short now. I’d like to write more but this work thing keeps stealing my free time. Merry Christmas everyone.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Turkey Day, Cars and Trips
What’s the deal? Why do you post so infrequently?
My acolytes (ok there are none, let’s face it), rather I, have been wondering why I don’t post more often. My defense is that this is a blog of substance. I choose to write about things after they happen and I have had a chance to distill and contemplate, rather than blabber about whatever I happen to have done 10 minutes ago (picked up Joe Flacco as a fantasy keeper next year! sweet!). I’m not trying to make any money with this thing, so I have no incentive to write about the latest and greatest xyz or pontificate about the implications of Henry Waxman (D-CA) getting the chair of the energy and commerce subcommittee from John Dingell (D-MI) . In case you were wondering, it means that Detroit (and the rust belt Midwest) no longer has a big say in energy policy and environmentally friendly California/west does. Bring on the Hemp-powered scooters!! Now everything will smell like a Phish show. But I digress. So what has been interesting to me lately?
Thanksgiving was pretty cool. M and I got our pastured broad-breasted white from the farm and delivered it to my parents’ house in time for a Thanksgiving feast. To my disappointment, there were no 40lb monsters that had been advertised. Turns out that is a good thing, since 40lbs of bird does not fit in most ovens, and that would be quite a disappointment to the gathered masses. So we got the fresh bird, gave it a bath and kept it for a night in nature’s refrigerator – our back porch. I was more worried about dogs, foxes and bears, but the extreme cold was the bigger problem. The next day our fresh turkey was slightly stiff. We were lucky, turns out coolers can keep things warm as well as cold. We dropped off the bird with storage and brining instructions. The brining idea required more explanation, but I think with now 2 successful turkey dunks, it will become more accepted. On the big day M and I got up early so we could make it to a Thanksgiving ‘lunch’ with her family. We gathered the men folk in the TV room for football and the women folk in the kitchen to play with a baby. I played some Wii sports and got a little too competitive. M even got involved and acquitted herself well in the bowling game. After food and desert we headed down to my parents place for Thanksgiving #2. It was good that the meals were 5 hours apart, giving us a chance to digest the first round before jumping in again. It was surprising that even with a relatively standard menu of Thanksgiving day options, that the two sets of food were so different. The staples were the same (turkey, stuffing, gravy, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce), but then were some that made each meal distinct (green bean casserole, broccoli casserole, corn, turnip, acorn squash, brussel sprouts, cauliflower). I think I ate more vegetables than turkey this year. Then on Friday it was off to M’s parents house for another Turkey dinner. Overall I think it was 5 turkeys cooked and 8 plates of food (including leftovers) , probably the greatest eating performance in years. I think Thanksgiving is evolving into my favorite holiday. There’s much less pressure than Christmas, where gifts are involved. Who isn’t happy with a giant pile of delicious food in front of them? Even if you don’t like it, there is pie and cookies to be had afterwards.
M and I have seen a few movies lately. Most recently we watched Body of Lies which was about espionage and terrorists in the Middle East, once again confirming my desires to stay far far away from all things from that area. Russell Crowe plays an excellent bad good guy, although I sometimes can’t tell if he’s acting. I think arrogance is how he rolls. Earlier in November M and I caught the news James Bond movie. The Quantum of Solace turned out to be a very entertaining movie. Not quite a ‘film’, but consistent with the new sociopathic James Bond. The opening chase scene destroyed a quite wonderful Aston Martin. I once read an article that described aspiring owners of Aston Martins to be royalty or close to it. I know Tom Brady owns one and Michael Jordan drives one in a Hanes commercial. They seem to be nice enough cars, but realistically I shouldn’t hold out any hopes for driving one someday. This got me to thinking about why I would spend any time worrying about aspiring to own something so ridiculous. Even in the ‘good’ times, driving around in a car, any car, that costs more than a well appointed house in middle America seems a bit rude. I’m not so sure most owners of cars like that are in touch with reality. It certainly makes it hard to argue your street credentials with one of these as your chariot. Which brings me to my one and only #1 jerk car of all time, the Porsche Cayenne. Normally I ‘like’ Porsches, as in, I do not automatically despise owners of these cars and the cars themselves can be driven daily. There can be an argument made for ownership of a Porsche. SUV’s can be similarly defended. They both have their purposes. But some mad Germans decided to combine the two into a singular offensive automobile. Not only do you get the distinction of driving an incredibly expensive and impractical automobile, but it’s enormous, devours fuel and isn’t particularly good looking. These traits in and of themselves are not enough to make me hate the Cayenne, but it is the sort of people who seek to own a vehicle like this that do. I know several BMW drivers – not at all bad people. I even know a few Mercedes owners – again, nice and wonderful people. But I have had the personal opportunity to become familiar with a proud Cayenne papa and I was not at all surprised to learn what he chose for his personal automobile. The ‘reasons’ for buying the car were probably more absurd than the owner himself. This started me down the road of disliking this car. As I drove, I started to notice more of them on the road, and I stared intently, wondering - is it him?? So far it hasn’t been, but the particular attention I paid caused me to notice how badly these people behave on the road. Racing ahead, tailgating, cutting people off, honking in traffic, parking illegally. Every single one I see has a dweeb behind the wheel. Last night, walking to the train station, a car ran a red light and screeched to a halt in the middle of a crosswalk, not 5 feet from where a group of us were walking. What kind of car was it? A Porsche Cayenne GTS. The driver flailed his hands menacingly at the rush hour traffic. Really? Downtown Boston at 4:55PM? You’re going to part the cars like Moses, just by waving your hands? Maybe you can rev the engine to scare the peons blocking the way. You’re the Jerk Store’s #1 all time best seller there, Mr. Cayenne owner.
Body of Lies marked something of a landmark for M and me. True it was not normally the kind of movie that I could get M to go see, but more than that it was a sort of double date. I’m 31, can I use terms like double date? We watched the movie and went to dinner afterwards with another couple, which turned out to be quite nice. Living where we do has a certain disadvantage of not really being anywhere close to anyone we know. Sure we are friendly with some of the neighbors, but for the most part we leave everyone alone and vice versa. Although we’re proximally close, it’s not a dorm, we don’t have anyone knocking on the door to ask for a blender or band-aids. Our social options have been limited to parties other people throw or convincing people to come out and visit, which is harder than you would imagine. Maybe I smell bad? Recently one of M’s friends moved somewhat closer to our corner of the world and it became much easier to meet up with people because we didn’t have to drive all the way into Boston every time. They have some similar interests and so far we’ve had two outings, the movie and a karaoke-less karaoke night. Maybe down the road we’ll be those friends that the kids make fun of? Parental friends were always kind of strange to me – why did parents need friends when they had these wonderful kids to entertain them? Why did the kids get sent to bed when the friends were over? Why was there always so much laughing ? There wasn’t so much laughing with the kids around… Well now I have friends with kids and hear the stories. Parents need friends, even if it’s to come over for the BBQ or to lose in waffle ball to your 8 year old prodigy. Maybe someday…
But not anytime soon! M and I are going on another trip. This time we’re going to Germany and Austria. I have been told that Christmas to Germans is like Mardi Gras to college students, so I am looking forward to seeing drunken Santa’s helpers and reindeer everywhere. Maybe it’s not quite that way, but it makes the plane rides easier. I did take a year of college German, but most of that was diluted by Jagermeister and Rumple Minze at the time, so any language skills will be shaky at best. So that now will be: Paris, Italy, Greece and Germany (with Spain coming in spring ’09) – I know what you’re thinking. Who is this guy ranting about Porsches when he and the missus are traveling around the world? I hear it from people at work, the ‘what recession?’ jokes, the ‘must be nice with no kids’ remarks. Someone insinuated we have shoeboxes boxes of gold next to our money bin. That’s not the case. M spends exactly 82% of her spare time searching for travel deals. (The other 17% is spent on Anthropologie.com and 1% is spent on scratching my back, in case you were curious) I get a travel proposal sent my way every 4 days and 99% of the time I’m that math-hating moron on ‘Deal or No Deal’, dancing shouting NO DEAL while the crowd erupts and holding out for something cheaper or more exotic, forcing M deeper and darker into the world of airfare searches and hotel availability. Only when I know that either I am going to face physical harm or the deal is too good to pass up do I push that button and hand over the Amex. I have been fortunate (depending on how you look at it) to have traveled quite a bit for work and this goosed up my airline and hotel points (FREE STUFF). The Spain trip will devour the last of those points. Subsequent trips will most likely consist of sleeping in our car or taking the Fung-Wah or Casino buses to the beautiful suburbs of Newark or Parsippany. I bring my lunch to work every day, binge on free coffee from work, keep the house at a snuggly 55 degrees, and I am currently a running joke with my family for refusing the calypso call of HD cable (or cable at all). I even give myself my own haircuts. So easy there, Monks need vacations too.
My acolytes (ok there are none, let’s face it), rather I, have been wondering why I don’t post more often. My defense is that this is a blog of substance. I choose to write about things after they happen and I have had a chance to distill and contemplate, rather than blabber about whatever I happen to have done 10 minutes ago (picked up Joe Flacco as a fantasy keeper next year! sweet!). I’m not trying to make any money with this thing, so I have no incentive to write about the latest and greatest xyz or pontificate about the implications of Henry Waxman (D-CA) getting the chair of the energy and commerce subcommittee from John Dingell (D-MI) . In case you were wondering, it means that Detroit (and the rust belt Midwest) no longer has a big say in energy policy and environmentally friendly California/west does. Bring on the Hemp-powered scooters!! Now everything will smell like a Phish show. But I digress. So what has been interesting to me lately?
Thanksgiving was pretty cool. M and I got our pastured broad-breasted white from the farm and delivered it to my parents’ house in time for a Thanksgiving feast. To my disappointment, there were no 40lb monsters that had been advertised. Turns out that is a good thing, since 40lbs of bird does not fit in most ovens, and that would be quite a disappointment to the gathered masses. So we got the fresh bird, gave it a bath and kept it for a night in nature’s refrigerator – our back porch. I was more worried about dogs, foxes and bears, but the extreme cold was the bigger problem. The next day our fresh turkey was slightly stiff. We were lucky, turns out coolers can keep things warm as well as cold. We dropped off the bird with storage and brining instructions. The brining idea required more explanation, but I think with now 2 successful turkey dunks, it will become more accepted. On the big day M and I got up early so we could make it to a Thanksgiving ‘lunch’ with her family. We gathered the men folk in the TV room for football and the women folk in the kitchen to play with a baby. I played some Wii sports and got a little too competitive. M even got involved and acquitted herself well in the bowling game. After food and desert we headed down to my parents place for Thanksgiving #2. It was good that the meals were 5 hours apart, giving us a chance to digest the first round before jumping in again. It was surprising that even with a relatively standard menu of Thanksgiving day options, that the two sets of food were so different. The staples were the same (turkey, stuffing, gravy, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce), but then were some that made each meal distinct (green bean casserole, broccoli casserole, corn, turnip, acorn squash, brussel sprouts, cauliflower). I think I ate more vegetables than turkey this year. Then on Friday it was off to M’s parents house for another Turkey dinner. Overall I think it was 5 turkeys cooked and 8 plates of food (including leftovers) , probably the greatest eating performance in years. I think Thanksgiving is evolving into my favorite holiday. There’s much less pressure than Christmas, where gifts are involved. Who isn’t happy with a giant pile of delicious food in front of them? Even if you don’t like it, there is pie and cookies to be had afterwards.
M and I have seen a few movies lately. Most recently we watched Body of Lies which was about espionage and terrorists in the Middle East, once again confirming my desires to stay far far away from all things from that area. Russell Crowe plays an excellent bad good guy, although I sometimes can’t tell if he’s acting. I think arrogance is how he rolls. Earlier in November M and I caught the news James Bond movie. The Quantum of Solace turned out to be a very entertaining movie. Not quite a ‘film’, but consistent with the new sociopathic James Bond. The opening chase scene destroyed a quite wonderful Aston Martin. I once read an article that described aspiring owners of Aston Martins to be royalty or close to it. I know Tom Brady owns one and Michael Jordan drives one in a Hanes commercial. They seem to be nice enough cars, but realistically I shouldn’t hold out any hopes for driving one someday. This got me to thinking about why I would spend any time worrying about aspiring to own something so ridiculous. Even in the ‘good’ times, driving around in a car, any car, that costs more than a well appointed house in middle America seems a bit rude. I’m not so sure most owners of cars like that are in touch with reality. It certainly makes it hard to argue your street credentials with one of these as your chariot. Which brings me to my one and only #1 jerk car of all time, the Porsche Cayenne. Normally I ‘like’ Porsches, as in, I do not automatically despise owners of these cars and the cars themselves can be driven daily. There can be an argument made for ownership of a Porsche. SUV’s can be similarly defended. They both have their purposes. But some mad Germans decided to combine the two into a singular offensive automobile. Not only do you get the distinction of driving an incredibly expensive and impractical automobile, but it’s enormous, devours fuel and isn’t particularly good looking. These traits in and of themselves are not enough to make me hate the Cayenne, but it is the sort of people who seek to own a vehicle like this that do. I know several BMW drivers – not at all bad people. I even know a few Mercedes owners – again, nice and wonderful people. But I have had the personal opportunity to become familiar with a proud Cayenne papa and I was not at all surprised to learn what he chose for his personal automobile. The ‘reasons’ for buying the car were probably more absurd than the owner himself. This started me down the road of disliking this car. As I drove, I started to notice more of them on the road, and I stared intently, wondering - is it him?? So far it hasn’t been, but the particular attention I paid caused me to notice how badly these people behave on the road. Racing ahead, tailgating, cutting people off, honking in traffic, parking illegally. Every single one I see has a dweeb behind the wheel. Last night, walking to the train station, a car ran a red light and screeched to a halt in the middle of a crosswalk, not 5 feet from where a group of us were walking. What kind of car was it? A Porsche Cayenne GTS. The driver flailed his hands menacingly at the rush hour traffic. Really? Downtown Boston at 4:55PM? You’re going to part the cars like Moses, just by waving your hands? Maybe you can rev the engine to scare the peons blocking the way. You’re the Jerk Store’s #1 all time best seller there, Mr. Cayenne owner.
Body of Lies marked something of a landmark for M and me. True it was not normally the kind of movie that I could get M to go see, but more than that it was a sort of double date. I’m 31, can I use terms like double date? We watched the movie and went to dinner afterwards with another couple, which turned out to be quite nice. Living where we do has a certain disadvantage of not really being anywhere close to anyone we know. Sure we are friendly with some of the neighbors, but for the most part we leave everyone alone and vice versa. Although we’re proximally close, it’s not a dorm, we don’t have anyone knocking on the door to ask for a blender or band-aids. Our social options have been limited to parties other people throw or convincing people to come out and visit, which is harder than you would imagine. Maybe I smell bad? Recently one of M’s friends moved somewhat closer to our corner of the world and it became much easier to meet up with people because we didn’t have to drive all the way into Boston every time. They have some similar interests and so far we’ve had two outings, the movie and a karaoke-less karaoke night. Maybe down the road we’ll be those friends that the kids make fun of? Parental friends were always kind of strange to me – why did parents need friends when they had these wonderful kids to entertain them? Why did the kids get sent to bed when the friends were over? Why was there always so much laughing ? There wasn’t so much laughing with the kids around… Well now I have friends with kids and hear the stories. Parents need friends, even if it’s to come over for the BBQ or to lose in waffle ball to your 8 year old prodigy. Maybe someday…
But not anytime soon! M and I are going on another trip. This time we’re going to Germany and Austria. I have been told that Christmas to Germans is like Mardi Gras to college students, so I am looking forward to seeing drunken Santa’s helpers and reindeer everywhere. Maybe it’s not quite that way, but it makes the plane rides easier. I did take a year of college German, but most of that was diluted by Jagermeister and Rumple Minze at the time, so any language skills will be shaky at best. So that now will be: Paris, Italy, Greece and Germany (with Spain coming in spring ’09) – I know what you’re thinking. Who is this guy ranting about Porsches when he and the missus are traveling around the world? I hear it from people at work, the ‘what recession?’ jokes, the ‘must be nice with no kids’ remarks. Someone insinuated we have shoeboxes boxes of gold next to our money bin. That’s not the case. M spends exactly 82% of her spare time searching for travel deals. (The other 17% is spent on Anthropologie.com and 1% is spent on scratching my back, in case you were curious) I get a travel proposal sent my way every 4 days and 99% of the time I’m that math-hating moron on ‘Deal or No Deal’, dancing shouting NO DEAL while the crowd erupts and holding out for something cheaper or more exotic, forcing M deeper and darker into the world of airfare searches and hotel availability. Only when I know that either I am going to face physical harm or the deal is too good to pass up do I push that button and hand over the Amex. I have been fortunate (depending on how you look at it) to have traveled quite a bit for work and this goosed up my airline and hotel points (FREE STUFF). The Spain trip will devour the last of those points. Subsequent trips will most likely consist of sleeping in our car or taking the Fung-Wah or Casino buses to the beautiful suburbs of Newark or Parsippany. I bring my lunch to work every day, binge on free coffee from work, keep the house at a snuggly 55 degrees, and I am currently a running joke with my family for refusing the calypso call of HD cable (or cable at all). I even give myself my own haircuts. So easy there, Monks need vacations too.
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