Even Further Tales of Stupidity

Two short stories for you, just in case you had any thoughts about challenging my title of Reigning Champ of the Clumsy:

This was a couple of weeks ago now, back during that winter storm that hit Dallas for 3 really boring (and cold) days. So I'm out at a restaurant with some friends. We're finishing up dinner, settling the bill and whatnot. The place isn't too crowded, even though it's a Friday night, mostly because it's (at max) 25 degrees outside with a super cold wind blowing. It feels pretty full though, because all the tables and booths are placed really close together and they've put everyone in one section of the building. The restaurant's pretty big so I don't understand why they've got everyone crammed into the one small portion of the floor, but who am I to judge? (This is a rationalization for what occurs later. This whole incident obviously was not my fault. It was the restaurant's lack of spatial planning sense.)

I down the final bit of my drink and we get our checks back. Using my mad math skills, I calculate a tip and sum the total up in record time. We pour out of our booth and start getting ready to brave the crazy cold. I'm already mostly ready to go, I've got three layers going even indoors, so all I need to do is apply my jacket and scarf and I'll be good.

Unfortunately I don't properly scope out my surroundings before attempting to get my arm in the jacket sleeve. There were several things that I did not take into account:

• Our waitress is pretty shy, and very quiet. In fact, she's downright near silent when walking between the tables.
• All those aforementioned tables are very, very close together leaving not much room for a single person to maneuver, let alone two people.
• My layers are already so thick that in order to get my jacket on I must fully extend my arm out behind me before I can begin the process of shimmying the rest of the way in.

Yeah, with one quick extension of my arm I manage to basically full-on punch our waitress in the shoulder. Who happens to be carrying a tray of empty glasses by our table at the time. They fall, ice flies everywhere, and suddenly I have become the domestic abuser of friendly waitstaff who wear cute horn rimmed glasses.

But really, why does she have to be walking so quiet-like? And shouldn't one really expect that a patron who is getting ready to leave might suddenly and for no reason shoot his arm out into your path? And as such, shouldn't you plan for that kind of event accordingly?

Yeah, I got nothing.

I apologized profusely, turned very red, and endured many angry glares from the other non-waitress-punching restaurant goers, and then amended my tip as generously as possible without sending my bank account into the red.

Good times.

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Yesterday I was in a crazy hurry to get home from work. I was meeting someone approximately half an hour after I got out and had at least 5 different tasks that needed to be completed beforehand. I decided on the trip home to try and consolidate as many of those errands as possible into a smaller number of super-errands in order to up the likelihood of being on-time with my bad self.

I decided that the easiest of the consolidations would be to go ahead and get the inside of the Truck of Malfunction cleaned while I was driving home, saving valuable seconds in my apartment parking lot that otherwise would have been wasted throwing empty fast food wrappers into a plastic bag. Thus at each stoplight on the way home I did just that - lurched around the cab of the truck grabbing every reachable piece of trash and throwing them into the grocery bag that I tend to use as my lunch container. While at the same time winding up all the various cell phone/miscellaneous car adapter cords that had accumulated over the months and storing in my glove compartment.

This seems like a foolproof plan, no? It worked quite well, at first.

Until at the busiest intersection on my trip home. This light tends to run excessively long, so I figured I had plenty of time to reach over to the far side of the passenger's seat and get at all the difficult trash that has fallen outside of my field of view. I rummage around back there and toss everything I can touch up to the front of the cab for easy disposal into the trash bag. Step One: Success.

However, when I pull up to start transferring all the trash into the bag (Step Two), it turns out that the trash that I wasn't able to see was all very dusty. Enough so that when I grabbed the next piece, a huge cloud representing 6 months of car foot-traffic debris billowed up into the air.

This sent me into a horrible sneezing fit, which occurred while I was still reaching across the length of the car. And just so you know, when I sneeze, my body gets into it. Enough so that of the four uncontrollable sneezes that wracked my body, two of them shook me so violently that my head and shoulder bounced off the steering column hard enough to honk the horn (so conveniently placed right in the middle of the wheel).

Just stop and imagine for a moment that you are sitting at the bus stop at this particular intersection through all of this. What do you see?

Some guy pulls up at the stoplight. He begins to root around in his truck, throwing huge amounts of receipts, empty fast food wrappers, and sundry other pieces of crap into the air towards the front of his car. He finally stops this after some time and begins digging through the junk he has just unearthed, only to pause for 5 long seconds with a decidedly unattractive look on his face, and then suddenly starts rapidly jerking his head forward. In the process ramming his body 4 times into the steering wheel, honking twice.

The light then turns green and he speeds away, while turning a most violent shade of red.

Yeaaah. Awesome.

The Great Flood And Other Hyperbole

So over the weekend the radiator exploded in the apartment next to mine. Since that apartment is the model unit (oh, the actual irony!) that they show to potential renters, no one noticed this fact until Frank realized that half our apartment was under water. (I was back home visiting family at the time, but I probably wouldn't have noticed anyways. I'm oblivious like that.)

Incidentally, the call from Frank informing me of this fact was brilliantly dramatic:

Jason: Hello?
Frank: Jason?
Jason: Hey, what's up?
Frank: Disasters and tragedy!
Jason: Uhh, what happened?
Frank: There! Is water! All over the kitchen!
Jason: That accounts for disaster and tragedy?
Frank: Well it's other places too! Doom!

You can't fault the boy's ability to ratchet up the drama in any given situation.

I tracked down a number for him and Frank got a call in to the emergency maintenance people. Who at least got the water to stop flowing like a river into our house, but their overall solution to the problem was just to rip up all the carpet in Frank's room and the hallway. And then leave, with a vague promise to come back. At some point, maybe in the future. This was not comforting to me, especially after it took them 3 full months to replace the garbage disposal in the kitchen last year. We could live with that at the time, but we sort of need that room.

Because suddenly I had a displaced Frank in the living room and roughly half of our usual floorspace to work with. I don't know if I've mentioned it lately, but I own a lot of stuff. Consolidating all that crap into 1/2 the normal amount of space basically left us climbing over mountains of debris anytime we wanted to walk between two rooms in the house. The only saving grace is that Frank owns basically no furniture (a bed and a TV) so we didn't completely collapse in on ourselves. Still, by midweek it was like we were living in one of those pack rat homes that Oprah sometimes goes to, with the trash and old newspapers piled to the ceilings. We are not built for small locations. Or cleaning, for that matter.

And oh yeah, the smell. Dear God. Water is gross. Standing water that has festered under some carpet is horrible and leaves your apartment smelling like low tide on the Gulf Coast. Frank Febreezed every available surface in the house, I coated the entire building with air deodorizer, and you would still choke when you walked in the door. We spent the entirety of Tuesday night with all the doors and windows in the place wide open, just in case any robbers/vagrants/hippies from down the street felt like wandering in for a quick chat and/or theft of our lovely property.

Because it wasn't until Wednesday afternoon that they finally got around to actually repairing the carpet, and even that was done poorly. (Probably because I left them this horribly bitchy message on Tuesday after they failed for the second time to do what they goddamn said they would do and fix the crap they started.) They knocked over everything that was anywhere near the area they had to work on, didn't vacuum after they were done, and left tons of debris and excess carpet stuff all over Frank's room.

And the place still goddamn reeks.

Incidentally, we're moving in two months, the second my lease expires.

Anyone know of a nice house for rent?

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Y'all know that I hated my job, right? Well with the advent of this thing called the Internet, I have been able to apply for other jobs with surprising ease, although I've had very little overall success at getting chances to escape from my current hell.

That was until about a week ago, when I got an offer from a new place. New job, new title, new location, more money, and less chance that I would need to pick up someone's fur coat from storage as part of my college-degree-requiring job. I was ready to bolt like a ninja and told my boss so, to my utter delight. Getting a chance to finally tell off your boss is akin to winning the lottery in my mind. Luckily, I held off from going nuts right away, since she then immediately asked exactly how much money it would take to get me to stay on board, horrors be damned.

I worked it over in my mind and ran the figures to put a dollar value on exactly how much I disliked my current job, and came up with the amount of money I would need to make that feelings of hatred melt away in the face of wads of cash. The final figure I came up with was (only mildly) ludicrous, and I was pretty sure there was no way in hell they would be willing to throw enough money at me to make me stay, despite my total awesomeness at my job.

And then she matched it without blinking.

So yeah, hi. I'm staying where I am. And suddenly I have a way better outlook on employment.

Also soon: Richer than Astronauts!

Frozen Hearts

Oh look, it's Valentine's Day again. How lovely. (Note: This is a false statement.)

I have written at length, several times, on the subject of my distaste for this so-called "holiday," but that's not going to slow me down now (except for the time it takes to note that I used to be a way better writer than I am now. I have fallen out of practice, apparently).

So I walk into my office this morning, bitter and cold and partially frozen (it is 27 degrees outside with 20 mph wind gusts) and all I want is a cup of coffee and some peace and quiet. Instead, I am subjected to standing in line in the break room to reach the coffee machine. Someone has brought in brownies for the whole office, and these people are wild for free foodstuffs. Seriously, you would think they have been scavenging in the wilderness for days the way they are tearing into these things.

Also, the sounds. Good Lord, the sounds. Usually I am a big proponent of moaning about a particularly good piece of food, but they are taking it way too far. If even I - the guy who puts the flamboy in flamboyant - am thinking that you need to tone it down a bit, there is something seriously wrong with your behavior right now.

After finally inching my way through the teeming masses to the coffee pot, I find that not only is it empty (the jackals, they love their coffee) but we're out of grounds to make a new pot. Granted, there was decaf available, but why not just let the office pack kick me in the head repeatedly, instead. Decaf is the work of the devil.

Then, not only did I get no coffee, I had to spend another 5 minutes trying to escape without having a brownie physically shoved into my mouth. I don't understand why people refuse to believe me when I say that I don't eat in the mornings. Seriously and truly, it is really bad for my stomach. I think I would know, as I am somewhat familiar with the subject. Hard evidence and whatnot. But that does not stop these people, no sir. They are relentless. With the way they are swarming all over these things, one would assume they want them all to themselves, but no. I must share in their sugar-and-chocolate-fueled blood lust.

Finally I just took one with me back to my office to get them (almost literally) off of my back.

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I make it into my office with the hope that I can finally enjoy some peace and quiet, and work on the 3 files that I need to get out of the office before noon. I manage exactly two minutes and 45 seconds of silence before the phone rings and I am ordered out into the cold once again. This time, to wait for a bouquet of flowers that are being delivered to my office. This was supposed to take approximately 5 minutes, as the driver with the flowers assured me that he was less than 2 minutes from my office and could just speed through the delivery area without having to find parking and all that jazz.

Yeah, no. Minute upon minute pass, as I waited in the freezing cold and the icy blasts of wind that managed to foil even the super effectiveness of my stylish faux-denim corduroy jacket (usually so perfect for all cold weather occasions). And then I waited some more. And then a little while longer. And then, completely frozen to the core, I gave up. Or more specifically, I gave up when a wind gust came through that was so cold and so huge that it literally unwound the scarf from around my neck and sent me running through the parking lot after it, jumping and flailing my arms in a wild attempt to capture it. All the while looking a lot like one of those rhythmic gymnasts with the ribbons, according to the elevator attendant who happened to be watching from a nearby window. Awesome. (Note: Also false).

I went back up to my office and found a message from the delivery guy: "Yeah, so I totally got the wrong address. I'll be over there in, like, 20 minutes. Hope you didn't already go down there."

Haaaate.

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And now that the flowers are actually here and installed in the office, oh my god are they wreaking havoc on my allergies. The sneezing/not-sneezing ratio is so out of control right now, you have no idea.

In conclusion: I hate this holiday. I hate the commercialism. I hate the contrivance. I hate that I look really bad around the color pink. I hate the fact that I can't gorge myself on chocolate like usual because I'm trying to live healthy for once in my misbegotten life. I hate flowers that cause a deep abiding pain in my head. Hate hate hate, etc.

Bring on The President's Day, by God! I loves me some history.

Wired

Hi.
(Hi hi.)

How's it going?
(Right now)

Am I properly portraying my mental state through formatting?
(Englished!)

So I started taking some new allergy medication yesterday night, and then again this morning. I've been having some really bad allergy things happening lately, like bad headaches and the uncontrollable twitching of my right eyelid. Along with the normal sneezing, watery-eye, zombified Jason things that usually happen.

These new pills are actually old pills. They're part of that regimen that I was taking back during that really bad allergy attack in October. But I stopped taking everything when I realized that the nighttime pills were causing me to become wildly paranoid. Like "I think there's a monster in the bathroom carefully timing its breathing with mine so I won't be alerted to his presence" sort of paranoid.

But now I'm just taking half of the drugs (the daytime part), and the results are completely something else.

To wit: I'm wired.

No wait.

I'm Wired.
(In italics. Large-size. And Capitalized. You see?)

This results in quick speaking, super focused, hummingbird type darting around the office. I am one million times more productive than ever before, and also a little insane right now. My eyes feel very open. I finished about 4 days worth of work before lunch today. I'm afraid I have the crazy eyes going on, also, because of the wideness. I'm being really friendly too. I actually engaged some random person in the office in idle conversation, without being spoken to first. I think we were talking about the Mavericks. Maybe, I'm not sure. I don't remember that far back (3 hours).

This is why I don't like drugs. Why can't allergy medication just treat the symptoms without sending me off on some strange trip. Suddenly I'm some sort of bubbly, efficient, normally socialized human being? That's not me. Not me at all.

Stupid drugs.

(Whee! Wired!)

Did I mention that I'm having a really good hair day today? It's totally sweet. You should see it; I'm looking goooood.

Pure Brain Dump

During a discussion recently with a friend of mine, I mentioned that I didn't really have any good topics to write about at the moment, just a whole bunch of little bits of junk that were sort of floating around in my head. And she gave me some very sage advice: write about whatever you want; it's your damn blog.

So yeah, word to the max. Commencing random bits of info.

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My latest obsession: How I Met Your Mother. A TV show. Not even just a TV show, a fixed camera sitcom. I don't know what has become of my tastes. But this show is the most hilarious thing on TV that is not The Office, and it's way less cringe-inducing, which makes it a lot easier to watch. I got the first season on DVD for Christmas and by conservative estimate I have watched it all the way through at least 5 times. There is a really nice level of rapport that the cast has working, especially by the end of that first season. And the new second season has really hit its stride, to the point where I consider certain episodes at the pinnacle of good TV. (I would never have thought anything could challenge Arrested Development's Pier Pressure as the best single episode of comedy I have ever seen, but HIMYM's Slap Bet is right there.)

I also have a wicked man-crush on Neil Patrick Harris, who is almost criminally funny in the role of the crazy womanizer.

The show almost went off the rails for me in the first season with the obvious parallels to Friends and the Ross+Rachael4Life issue with the corresponding characters here, but they managed to avoid the really bad pitfalls and come up with some great TV.

And now I'm on some sort of holy quest to convert every person I know into a watcher. This is exactly like Serenity/Firefly, but I think I'm a little less crazed on this one. You should watch it, though.

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Also for Christmas, someone (Frank) let me go wild in Borders books and I managed to pick up a nice pile of new Science Fiction, which I have been chewing through for over a month now, really enjoying some hardcore speculative future worlds. It's all from the very dense side of science fiction, the kind that normal people hate and that I absolutely love.

This is all to say that I am massively recommending the novel Spin by Robert Charles Wilson. It's the sort of book that I live for: hard science fiction with a realistic base, some really interesting ideas, and a payoff that doesn't completely suck (which is the problem I almost universally find with really ambitious science fiction). It's got a straightforwardness about the whole thing that I really respect - One day the stars disappear, the Earth is surrounded by some sort of shield that causes time on the planet to move incredibly slowly compared to the rest of the universe, and the main characters are left to deal with the fallout.

Even though it is structured in a stylized series of flashbacks, it manages it with such flair that completely forgive the trappings, where usually I would get tired after 3 chapters. And it doesn't hurt that the characters are surprisingly well written and sympathetic, something else that I tend to hate about sci-fi.

It really put me in the mind of Carl Sagan's Contact, which is pretty much the highest praise I can give to a book. It's not for everyone, but if you like this sort of thing, it's definitely the book to read.

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I've started up the World of Warcraft again. I know, so shameful. I have no reasoning or defense, other than the relative cheapness of the entertainment. Your average video game costs at least $30.00 and only offers you limited replay value. By sticking with this one, I'm only incurring about $14.00/month and not wasting money elsewhere.

Also, the new races and areas they added in with the expansion are just great - I've got a new Blood Elf up and running and my hunter has been pulled out of retirement for the long haul up to level 70. If there are any of you out there who still play, I'm on that there server called The Scryers, character name Rohr.

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New Musical Interest that I can't get enough of: Arctic Monkeys - Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not. I really enjoy me some up-tempo rock, and this album has it in spades. Classic exercise/running background music for me. And some of the songs are really sweet too.

I have almost nothing to add, except I really like British imports lately for some reason. I'm just a sucker for accents, I think.

(Other music related confession that ruins pretty much my entire life: I have that Daughtry CD on my iPod. And I sort of like it. A lot. I think I'm gonna go throw up now.)

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Went and saw Pan's Labyrinth over the weekend. Completely amazing. Almost impossible to watch at times - the violence is astounding on occasion, but the movie as a whole is astonishing and immersive. The fantastic elements are almost tame compared to the realistic elements of war, and when you combine it with the amazing acting the result is deeply affecting. I don't think I've walked out of a movie that charged...possibly ever. And I include in that my recent viewing of Children of Men, which I imagined would hold the title for a very long time. I also really dug the open-endedness of the conclusion. In fact, I probably would have liked a little more - some additional shades of gray might not have hurt.

A great movie, though. Top three of last year to be sure. Actually to break it down, my real top 5 movie list in terms of best movies I saw for 2006 (say if I ran the Oscars): Children of Men, History Boys, Pan's Labyrinth, Little Miss Sunshine, and Stranger Than Fiction.

Destination: Alcoholism

I am on a serious furniture kick lately. The bookshelf/rearrangement process from a couple of weeks ago seems to have fueled my innate desire for the finer things in life. Well, if by "finer things" you mean, "beautiful dark-wood-looking yet wildly cheap knock-offs."

You see, for about 2 months, I have been coveting this particular wine cabinet from Target. I have always wanted a classy place to store all my potential liquors. And this one was almost too perfect: It has a fold out serving top, two swinging doors to hold your wine and wine glasses, two big shelves for your fine liquors, and two drawers to hold all your related alcohol paraphernalia.

The big bonus, though, was the price, which was approximately half that of any similar cabinet that I had ever seen. But lo those many months I had other purchases that took precedence, like bookshelves, Christmas presents, and food. Then about 2 weeks ago, I happened to be in Target and idly wandered by the furniture department and found that sucker on 40% off sale.

To say that I wanted the cabinet was an understatement that defies common convention. I was going to have that unit, no matter what. They had no boxes on the shelf, so I immediately grab one of the salespeople and breathlessly ask if they have any in the back. She says that she thinks there is one left somewhere, and goes to check, telling me to stay right there. I am practically drooling at this point.

Between the time when she leaves until she reappears, I become some wild animal protecting his nest: three different people wander by and start commenting on the cabinet.

"Hey, this is really nice! And it's 40% off," says one very tall customer.
"Uh, yeah, sorry. They're all totally sold out. Too bad." I say. I am very forceful. I may or may not have made little shoo-ing motions with my hands at the tall guy.
"Oh, that's too bad. Well maybe the display unit is on sale." This guy is a sneaky bastard, I'll give him that. (I hadn't even considered that idea, dammit.)
"Ohh, uh...nope! I already asked. It's a drag, I know. It's so cool, right? But maybe better luck next time!" This time the shoo-ing motions are real and pronounced.
"Uh, yeah..." The distrust in his eyes is obvious. He sees my fanaticism, I am too obvious in my machinations. I am wildly scared that he will ask why I'm waiting around and the jig will be up. I try to think up some excuse for my loitering, but can find no plausible excuse. I actively wonder if I could take him in hand-to-hand combat (final decision: uh, no.) Finally after an eternity he wanders off. I am able to breath once again.

The next two people are easier sells, and I successfully defend my turf with a quick and decisive "Oh, I already asked and they are sold out," combined with a dismissive flip of the head.

The whole thing proves for naught, though, when she comes back with the sad news that they don't have any in the back. And when I inquire about the display unit (thanks, sneaky tall guy) she explains that it's been bolted to the shelf and the back is full of holes.

Y'all, you do not understand the level of crushing disappointment that I felt. I had considered that cabinet as a member of my own family. Apparently the horror was evident on my face, as the salesgirl practically fell over herself telling me not to worry, because surely one of the other Targets in the DFW area would have one in stock. I am slightly mollified, but still near tears.

She manages to track down one unit at a nearby store which I acquire with much less drama than one would expect given the first round of theatrics. I didn't even have to lie to one person at the second (obviously superior) store.

And once it was put together, it is awesome. Remember, it's not alcoholism if the liquor comes out of an amazingly fancy cherry wood cabinet. We had a hugely successful bar initiation party over the weekend to celebrate my even newer-found newfound adulthood, in which the liquors flowed freely and deliciously.

This is a very slippery slope, however, since now I really want a new matching dining room table and chairs, and of course new end tables in the living room, not to mention a new matching entertainment center for the TV...

Wherein I Barely Restrain My Bloodlust

So when I was driving in to work today, I was waiting at a stoplight and slowly freezing into a chunk of ice, since the TOM has decided that the heater is no longer a vital component in its continued survival. I was just sort of sitting there, slightly shivering and mostly concentrating on getting into my office, where the newly installed thermostat is actually regulating the temperature in there. No more would I need to wear my scarf and jacket at my desk, like some sort of antarctic pole monitor. I should be able to warm up pretty quic--

When all of a sudden, some guy in the next car over from me has rolled down his window and just totally spits all over my TOM. Like a full on, super super super gross loogey from deep within. And it now occludes the majority of my passenger-side window. And did I mention it's like the grossest thing I have seen in 2007?

I cock my head to the side and give him the standard "Uh, what the fuck, man, did you just spit all over my car?" look. He just sort of shrugs and starts laughing, and taps the shoulder of his passenger to draw attention to his apparent masterful spitting job he has just done. They both enjoy a hearty laugh over this, until the light turns green and they speed off, still cackling away.

Seriously? SERIOUSLY?!

Okay, I have been in a bad mood this week, I will fully own up to that. My boss left the country and has left me in charge of doing many more jobs than I am capable of accomplishing, which results in a whole bunch of clients yelling at me all throughout the day, even though it is most definitely not my fault. This has sent me into a very angry space.

That said, good sweet and fuzzy lord, I was ready throw down against this redneck hick who somehow thinks it is the highest level of comedy that he has covered my truck in his disgusting bodily fluids.

I mean, that's just not done, right? I guess, on the incredibly odd chance that you feel the intense need/desire to spit out the window of your car and you happen to expectorate a little harder than you anticipated and it hits someone else's vehicle, the least that you could do would be to apologize or look a little ashamed of yourself. You don't point and laugh. I had to waste 5 bucks and be late for work this morning so I could drive through the goddamn car wash to clear off your shit from my car. (Cause I'll be damned if I'm going to let some fool's mucus dry on my truck).

It's now maybe 2 hours later and the bloodlust is still now only starting to subside.

Damn people. Always spitting on my car and shit.

Oscar Noms & Whatnot

Just because I am wildly bored today, I will make my amazing Oscar Non-Predictions. In every single category, even the useless ones. Exactly like the real show, only with fewer really bad fashion choices (as far as you can tell).

I call them Non-Predictions, because it's more my list of preferred winners, rather than who really will win. Watch as I make snap decisions about movies that I have almost assuredly never seen! Gape at my complete lack of movie sense! Fun for the whole family!

(Winners Giant and in Italics)
Best motion picture of the year
BABEL
THE DEPARTED
LETTERS FROM IWO JIMA
LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE
THE QUEEN

Those are my options? Really? No Dreamgirls? No Children of Men? Fine. I loved Little Miss Sunshine and haven't seen the rest. Woo! (And I was wondering why I wasn't that into the Oscars this year...)

Achievement in directing
BABEL
THE DEPARTED
LETTERS FROM IWO JIMA
THE QUEEN
UNITED 93

So people will stop going on about how Scorsese's never won an Oscar. Are you happy? Award due entirely to making people shut up. (See also: Why I want Peyton Manning and the Colts to win the Superbowl)

Performance by an actor in a leading role
Leonardo DiCaprio - BLOOD DIAMOND
Ryan Gosling - HALF NELSON
Peter O'Toole - VENUS
Will Smith - THE PURSUIT OF HAPPYNESS
Forest Whitaker - THE LAST KING OF SCOTLAND

For two reasons: 1) Because I love Ryan Gosling like nothing else, and 2) because the people who run movie theatres in Dallas refused to show The Last King of Scotland until this week and now I'm too poor to go see it. That'll show'em.

Performance by an actor in a supporting role
Alan Arkin - LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE
Jackie Earle Haley - LITTLE CHILDREN
Djimon Hounsou - BLOOD DIAMOND
Eddie Murphy - DREAMGIRLS
Mark Wahlberg - THE DEPARTED

The only category in which I'll be using the reasoning that I need to see a movie to rate the performance. And in this case, Alan Arkin beats out Eddie Murphy, because frankly Murphy was the only thing I didn't like in Dreamgirls.

Performance by an actress in a leading role
Penélope Cruz - VOLVER
Judi Dench - NOTES ON A SCANDAL
Helen Mirren - THE QUEEN
Meryl Streep - THE DEVIL WEARS PRADA
Kate Winslet - LITTLE CHILDREN

Because I'm still bitter that she hasn't won an Oscar. Someday, dammit! Did you people not watch Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind? I wouldn't mind if Meryl Streep won, though.

Performance by an actress in a supporting role
Adriana Barraza - BABEL
Cate Blanchett - NOTES ON A SCANDAL
Abigail Breslin - LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE
Jennifer Hudson - DREAMGIRLS
Rinko Kikuchi - BABEL

Fine. And not just because her singing causes people in a movie theatre to spontaneously applaud a screen. You people do understand that she's not actually in the theatre, right? Who are you applauding for? It's creepy. But yeah, she was crazy good. I would also really like it if the little girl from Little Miss Sunshine took it instead. She was awesome.

Best animated feature film of the year
CARS
HAPPY FEET
MONSTER HOUSE

Come on. If you ignore exactly how creepy a world entirely consisting of living, talking cars actually is, the movie is totally awesome.

Achievement in art direction
DREAMGIRLS
THE GOOD SHEPHERD
PAN'S LABYRINTH
PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN: DEAD MAN'S CHEST
THE PRESTIGE

Because I want it to win something.

Achievement in cinematography
THE BLACK DAHLIA
CHILDREN OF MEN
THE ILLUSIONIST
PAN'S LABYRINTH
THE PRESTIGE

Because I have never been as keyed up by a movie as that one. AWESOME.

Achievement in costume design
CURSE OF THE GOLDEN FLOWER
THE DEVIL WEARS PRADA
DREAMGIRLS
MARIE ANTOINETTE
THE QUEEN

How hot were those outfits in The Devil Wears Prada? And who else are they going to give it to? The Queen? "Yeah, that was a nice tiara she had going on." Whatever.

Best documentary feature
DELIVER US FROM EVIL
AN INCONVENIENT TRUTH
IRAQ IN FRAGMENTS
JESUS CAMP
MY COUNTRY, MY COUNTRY

I don't even know what it's about, but hot damn do I want it to win.

Best documentary short subject
THE BLOOD OF YINGZHOU DISTRICT
RECYCLED LIFE
REHEARSING A DREAM
TWO HANDS

It's got blood, so it must be interesting, right?

Achievement in film editing
BABEL
BLOOD DIAMOND
CHILDREN OF MEN
THE DEPARTED
UNITED 93

Seriously, I really liked this movie. Plus, the editing was out of control. According to the internet (obviously reliable) that one extended action sequence at the end was a single 15 minute shot from two cameras, uncut. Bold.

Best foreign language film of the year
AFTER THE WEDDING
DAYS OF GLORY (INDIGÈNES)
THE LIVES OF OTHERS
PAN'S LABYRINTH
WATER

Oh man, someday I'm totally going to get to see this movie, and it's going to be awesome. I can just sense it.

Achievement in makeup
APOCALYPTO
CLICK
PAN'S LABYRINTH

Because I refuse to vote for that Mel Gibson horror-fest, and I don't think Click is actually a movie. I would have heard about it.

Achievement in music written for motion pictures (Original score)
BABEL
THE GOOD GERMAN
NOTES ON A SCANDAL
PAN'S LABYRINTH
THE QUEEN

Actually, a very pretty soundtrack. I was really impressed.

Achievement in music written for motion pictures (Original song)
"I Need to Wake Up" - AN INCONVENIENT TRUTH
"Listen" - DREAMGIRLS
"Love You I Do" - DREAMGIRLS
"Our Town" - CARS
"Patience" - DREAMGIRLS

Because Beyonce deserves something for getting upstaged (and how) by an American Idol contestant who didn't even make the top 4 of her season. Plus, I really love that song. (Bonus: When she sings it in the movie, her mouth opens so wide it looks like she's a python about to devour some prey. That is committed singing right there.)

Aside: If Randy Newman wins for "Our Town," I will release upon the world a vengeance unlike anything ever known before. I haaaate that song so much.

Adapted screenplay
BORAT CULTURAL LEARNINGS . . .
CHILDREN OF MEN
THE DEPARTED
LITTLE CHILDREN
NOTES ON A SCANDAL

Borat? Really? Uh, anyways. So yeah, Children of Men was awesome. Have I mentioned that yet?

Original screenplay
BABEL
LETTERS FROM IWO JIMA
LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE
PAN'S LABYRINTH
THE QUEEN

Impressively real dialogue wins out over all the contrivance.

Best animated short film
THE DANISH POET
LIFTED
THE LITTLE MATCHGIRL
MAESTRO
NO TIME FOR NUTS

Once again, an awesome title wins out. Although if this is starring that damn squirrel from Ice Age, I immediately retract my vote.

Best live action short film
BINTA AND THE GREAT IDEA (BINTA Y LA GRAN IDEA)
ÉRAMOS POCOS (ONE TOO MANY)
HELMER & SON
THE SAVIOUR
WEST BANK STORY

Can't go wrong with a great idea. Or someone named Binta.

Achievement in sound editing
APOCALYPTO
BLOOD DIAMOND
FLAGS OF OUR FATHERS
LETTERS FROM IWO JIMA
PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN: DEAD MAN'S CHEST

Because I assume pirates are the most difficult thing to sound like.

Achievement in sound mixing
APOCALYPTO
BLOOD DIAMOND
DREAMGIRLS
FLAGS OF OUR FATHERS
PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN: DEAD MAN'S CHEST

So we really need two sound categories? Dreamgirls, because I feel bad that it wasn't nominated for Best Picture.

Achievement in visual effects
PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN: DEAD MAN'S CHEST
POSEIDON
SUPERMAN RETURNS

Say what you will about this movie, but I loved how it looked. A lot.

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So that was sufficiently boring, right? Just imagine how much fun it will be when that is protracted over 4 full hours. Methinks I'll be skipping the telecast this year.

Feel free to rip apart all my picks in the comments. But you leave Children of Men alone, dang it. I will not hear a word against the boat movie!

Wherein My Martyr Complex Kicks In

So Dallas is in the grip of the lamest ice storm ever.

I can remember an ice storm in Orange when I was a sophomore in high school when the entire town was without power for 4 days and the roads were all blocked by fallen trees. We survived by eating cold soup direct from the can, huddling in darkened piles of blankets, trying to read by flickering candle light.

Then we walked to school, uphill, both ways, barefoot, in the snow and ice.

And we were thankful for the opportunity, dang it.

In contrast, this storm has done nothing but be cold and ice up the roads in the mornings. Which I suppose is bad enough, seeing as I was trapped on the Northwest Highway overpass for 30 minutes on Monday morning because my Truck of Malfunction didn't have enough traction to get across the icy bridge, and eventually need two burly police officers to push me across. I've apparently fallen very hard since my younger, more hardy days of my youth.

But on the whole, this is just not your crushing winter storm. So when there was an ice advisory yesterday morning, I just sacked up (and put on a fabulous scarf) and left for the office about 20 minutes early, expecting delays. And people, let me tell you, when people say that Texas drivers aren't good at driving in ice, it is the understatement of the decade. Every driver on the roads decided as a collective unit that the maximum drive speed on any road would be 15 mph. It took me 45 minutes to drive the whole 8 miles to my office building. The ice was not that bad, but you would think it was the Storm of the Century the way everyone was reacting.

And when I get there? Ain't a soul in the building. Everyone is shut down: the receptionist, my corporate office, every other office in the suite. It is me, all alone at the cold end of a long empty hallway. It is at this point that my phone vibrates, indicating that I have a new voicemail. It's my boss, informing me that we're just gonna wait to open the office until about 11:00 or so.

This would be when the martyr part comes in: I had dragged my butt through the freezing cold, risked the absolutely insane other drivers on the road who don't understand the concept of ice and skidding, and pretty much icing off vital portions of my body in the process (of course the heater doesn't work in the TOM). And no one else in the world can be bothered to even try and come in? Oh the bitterness, how it flowed. No one was even around to appreciate my awesome scarf.

And to top it all off, the login server on my computer was down, which meant I couldn't even get any work done, because only our IT guys at the corporate office can reset the server. And they were all snug in their warm beds at home, no doubt, dreaming about redundant backup RAID systems or whatever it is that IT guys like.

Oh, and the heater in the office wasn't on, so my office was basically an ice box. It was warmer standing out in the foyer than it was in my office, which seems to leak in the cold from the outside like we're a rusty shack in the woods.

I don't think I have felt so unjustly put upon in ages and ages. Sometimes it's good to just revel in that feeling, though, which is exactly what I did for about 3 hours, fuming and pacing about the office. Frankly, the righteous anger was the only thing keeping me warm.

Then I came to my senses and bolted around 2:00 and took the world's most delicious 3 hour mid afternoon nap, all while feeling vaguely sick and sneezy. I think my body wanted to contract the pneumonia from having gone out in the cold in order to get the full martyrdom thing going on. That would show them. Show them all, but good!

But alas, I survived and lived to play a whole bunch of World of Warcraft that night, making an avatar of the gayest elf that ever lived, who has blond highlights, a pink & teal outfit, and has the job of jewelry maker. So in the end I guess it all worked out for the best.

Still, man, why am I the only hard worker in the city! Oh, the injustice of it all!

Who Are These "People"

I... seriously, there are no words.

Click it.

Scroll down...down...past Movies...down to Music.

The People's Choice Award for Favorite Music Group: Nickelback

Nickelback? Nickelback?! Maybe the award was just missing a qualifier. Maybe they were voting for "Favorite Music Group that I Would Like to Stab With a Pitchfork." Because I could get behind that.

But I'm pretty sure these People Who Were Choosing actually do like Nickelback. And that makes the baby Jesus cry.

I take this as a personal affront. Who are these so-called "People" and why are they representing me? It's enough to make someone want to move to Canada.

My faith in America has been dashed, all due to the People's Choice Awards. Hard times.

A Fit of Productivity

I was seized by one of those rare fits on Saturday. The sort of fit where you wake up at 9:00am on a weekend and just feel the need to be productive. I am subject to one of these fits approximately once every three years, so when it hits, I jump to it.

By noon, I had the entire house clean, including the horror that was the kitchen and my bedroom, which has lately taken on the look a fabled disaster scene, akin to the wreck of the Hesperus. By 12:30 I was on my way to our local neighborhood IKEA store to finally pick up the shelving unit that I've been saying I am going to buy for approximately 5 months now. Since I'm still using the wire rack shelves that I acquired (read: stole) from Jim approximately 4 years ago, it was high time to come into the 21st century.

Or actually, I was not so much 'on my way' at 12:30 as I was 'staring at the Truck of Malfunction and its mostly flat rear left tire.' Normally this would have sent me into a spiraling depression of a weekend of sitting on the couch eating Oreos and watching How I Met Your Mother on DVD, but I was taken by this fit and as such, kept moving forward.

I called my dad, who recommended trying some of that Fix-A-Flat stuff in a can to get the TOM as far as a tire store so they could assess the situation further. Luckily, I happened to have a can of that stuff on hand at all time. It is the TOM after all, I'm like a boy scout where it is concerned - Always Prepared (for the Worst Mechanical Difficulties Possible). I popped that sucker onto the tire and started the magical inflation process. It got about 30 seconds into the pumping process when the entire apparatus exploded.

Apparently always being prepared is a bad thing, as the ancientness of my Fix-a-Flat caused the little tube through which the foam flows to degrade enough to collapse into a million pieces under the slightest of pressure. Thus there I was, covered in tire foam, sitting in the middle of my parking lot with a still very flat tire. Now normally this level of setback would have sent me into a spiraling depression so deep that it would have been a solid week on the couch, upgraded to eating frosting straight from the can while watching Arrested Development on DVD. I was in a fit though, you'll remember, so I kept going.

I decided that enough of the stuff may have gotten into the tire and made a mad dash to the Target about 30 seconds from my house to get one of those portable air pump systems that will plug into your cigarette lighters. This worked like gangbusters - the tire not only inflated, but stayed that way. Obviously I lead some sort of blessed life in regards to the TOM - everything malfunctions, but it never stops running.

So about an hour after expected departure I got on the road and made it to IKEA without anyone dying or getting covered in exploding foam. Things were looking up. I spent many an hour staring at shelves in IKEA, completely bewildered, but eventually decided to go with these, which are the most monolithic shelves I have ever seen. The little picture doesn't properly convey their sheer size - think the beginning of 2001: A Space Odyssey and monkeys. Only with room to store books! The box they came in was approximately 10 feet long (not an exaggeration) and weighed 98 pounds (ditto). Getting that thing from the store -> the TOM -> the apartment all by myself will rank somewhere around #6 on my all-time awesome accomplishments list. I'm telling you, this fit was strong.

Once home, I managed to build the shelves with minimal amounts of issues (IKEA is easy, yo), although I did drop a chunk of wood on my right middle finger and pop a blood vessel, causing it to swell up to twice it's normal size. But it's already healed two days later, so it barely warrants mentioning.

I then completely rearranged my bedroom (in the process cleaning out my closet and throwing away an entire truck-full of clothes, boxes, broken chairs, and electronic equipment) into the sexiest configuration you can possibly imagine. It is wildly adult and yet functional. I would post pictures, but I don't want too many people throwing themselves at me, and I know you would all be tempted to do so if I unleashed all the awesomeness over the internet.

Trust me, though: Hot.

The reorganization process took the entire rest of the day before it was completed; the final piece (making the bed) occurred at 11:42pm, which means that I was basically being efficient and doing things for over 14 straight hours on a weekend. Unprecedented, is what I am saying.

And in response to this flurry of activity, I did absolutely nothing at all on Sunday and only left the house in order to find food for dinner. Thus, the balance is maintained.

Sometimes I love being functional. But I never want to overdo it, so I'll be slacking off for at least the rest of January, just to be safe.

When I Suddenly Hate Things That I Once Loved

I spent over 3 hours this morning writing the copy and formatting the text and pictures in what amounts to a spam email. I'm talking dedicated craftsmanship in every facet: I rewrote the language in it over 15 times, I tweaked the spacing, I changed the clip art, I reworked the entire logo and heading for our company, and then redid the entire thing when I realized the format was only compatible with Microsoft Outlook.

I don't know why this is noteworthy in the slightest, except to illustrate exactly how far I have fallen here in the year of Our Lord Two Thousand and Seven.

No matter what, I am way impressed with that piece of spam. It's got to be one of the finest works I have ever seen in its genre that does not mention a Nigerian prince.

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In unrelated news, I can no longer stand Lunchables, as of Tuesday afternoon at 1:07pm. Which has been something of a problem, considering over the weekend I bought one for every day of this week, so I wouldn't waste money going out to lunch (2007 is the year of fiscal responsibility). Now lunchtime has become a dreaded event. I am completely over the little crackers and the processed cheeses and the gross meat, yet I must continue to work with them each day this week. Tomorrow is usually a day of rejoicing (it being Friday and all) and yet all I can see is the lunch hour ahead and my heart sinks.

I don't know what I was thinking back when I used to revel in the deliciousness that was Lunchables. Perhaps I had suffered several blows to the head, and I'm just now getting over them. It's a viable possibility, I'm very accident prone. Anyways, yuck.

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We are on day 14 of the 15 day experiment entitled "Jason seriously tries to grow a beard." It was the worst idea I have had in quite a while (excluding the Lunchable debacle). I look crazed, homeless, and also patchy, because there are portions of my face that simply refuse to grow hair. Why my body refuses to get with the program will forever be a mystery to me.

I have no idea what I was thinking when I started this plan. But I said I would give it a full 15 days to get into shape, and dammit, that's how long it's going to get. I think I would have made an excellent choice for captain of the Titanic. "We set this course last week, it's perfect, I'm not about to change it for some ice."

So yeah, it's not long for this world, but if you want to see me all crazy and potentially homeless, your best bet is in the next day and a half. View while the viewing is horrifying. That's what I always say, at least.

Small Damn Music Blog

Year end round-up posts are so cliche. And yet, I just can't stop myself. It's fun. And easy!

With less ado, this is my breakdown of the best albums released in 2006. Obviously it is wickedly subjective (as all such lists are) but even more so than usually, because I didn't listen to a ton of new music this year. I think I had a total of 18 new albums, which I have oh so impressively whittled down to a top 10 (really 11). Amazing, no? (As always, album must have been technically released in the 2006 calendar year for eligibility)

10. The Raconteurs: Broken Boy Soldiers - More difficult than your normal rock/guitar/alt band, with only the single "Steady As She Goes" being really accessible and radio friendly. Over all, though, it's an excellent album, if a little short (clocks in just over half an hour). As usual Jack White (half of The White Stripes) continues to impress me with final products that are better than the individual parts. Lends itself very easily to multiple listenings and so far has aged very well on my iPod. Best song: (Tie) "Steady As She Goes" / "Blue Veins"

9. Christina Aguilera: Back to Basics - Ambitious. That's really the only word I can use to describe it. She tries really hard, succeeds in some cases, fails in others. Gains big points for her good catchy songs ("Ain't No Other Man" / "Candyman"), and for reaching for some range on interesting quieter numbers ("Save Me From Myself"). Loses points for: even more power ballads (enough!), and carnival barkers (just say no to clowns!). So-so overall points, but that doesn't mean I don't listen to it constantly. Best song: "Save Me From Myself"

8. Paolo Nutini: These Streets - My obscure plug for today. I love everything about this CD: his voice on the solo stuff, how well the whole ensemble band pieces fit in with the style of the album, the general - (what's the word, wistfulness? naivety?) - vibe that oozes from the entire set. Again, it's a little short, and a little too laid back to be the best thing in the world, but one of my favorite things to just have on. Comforting. Best song: "Million Faces"

7. (tie) Yeah Yeah Yeahs: Show Your Bones - This is a really good CD. I keep having to remind myself of that. Invariably, though, when I pull out the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, I always go to Fever to Tell, one of my favoritiest albums ever, so this one always gets pushed out of the way. But forgiving the sin of it not being FtT, it's a great accomplishment. More listenable, more mature sounding, and some unbeatable tracks. Best song: "Phenomena"

The Strokes: First Impressions of Earth - It gets a tie with Show Your Bones, because I could basically write the exact same thing as above, only replace 'Fever to Tell' with 'Is This It?'. This is still an amazing CD. As with all Strokes CDs, after a bit it all tends to blend a little, but for good music, you'd be hard pressed to find anything better. Best song: "Juicebox"

6. Lily Allen: Alright, Still - Import British pop. A little light rap ("Knock 'Em Out"), some itchy pop ("Shame for You"), and some simple, pretty standards. Sometimes an album doesn't have to be groundbreaking and stunning to be great. I have nothing that really makes this CD stand out wildly, but it's had a longer continuous rotation in my iPod than anything else currently. Best Song: "Knock 'Em Out," which is just amazingly infectious.

5. Orson: Bright Idea - I'll be brief here, since I pimped this thing uncontrollably when it came out, but this CD puts me in a better mood than basically anything ever. Pure pop/rock that tosses me into a seriously happy/nostalgic place. Best Song: "No Tomorrow"

4. The Dresden Dolls: Yes, Virginia... - There is no explanation for my fanaticism for The Dresden Dolls. They're a throwback cabaret duo (girl on piano, guy on rhythm) and frankly, everything about both of their albums is pretty creepy. Yes Virginia is their newer album, three years in the making, and it sort of knocks my socks off, despite songs about: Nazi sympathizers, sex changes (multiple songs, people), and masturbation. It's a very mature album, and Amanda Palmer's voice is very powerful despite it's unconventional sound. The album never falls off the rails, even though you constantly expect it. And bonus: I'm always vaguely skeeved out every time I listen to it. But no matter what, I'm completely hooked. Best Song: "Shores of California"

3. Bitter:Sweet: The Mating Game - Do I babble on about sweet eletronica/smooth jazz/shy girl fronted bands too much? It sure seems like I do, what with all the Imogen Heap, Roisin Murphy, etc mess I've always got going on. But this CD is like the culmination of all of those in one perfect package. It's all the potential of Murphy with the polish of Heap and their own perfect spin on electronica/jazz with some perfect hooks. Any other year this would be my #1 album in a walk. Best song: "Mating Game"

2. The Elected: Sun, Sun, Sun - The most unexpected album of the year. I was a small fan of Rilo Kiley, which is why I picked this up in the first place, but now I'm a huge fan of The Elected. Road trip pop/blues, with enough country involved that I feel a little dirty. They use a slide guitar! I mean come on. But seriously, such a perfect album. I don't even have words to describe. Best song: "Fireflies in a Steel Mill"

1. Regina Spektor: Begin to Hope - Yeah yeah, I know half the people in the world hate her music. The other half seem to tolerate it. And then there is me, who is obsessed with it all. I love this album with reckless abandon. For the cheery pop songs that are amazing and easily accessible ("Fidelity", "On the Radio"), and for the deeper, heavier songs that take a while to really appreciate ("Apres Moi", "Field Below"). When you add in the bonus disc that came with the original release, it really is an amazingly complete album. And I'm not just saying that because I have a huge crush on her. Probably. Best song: "Hotel Song," if I have to pick just one. Big love for "Summer in the City" too, though.

Limping Into the New Year

Okay, the clumsiness is officially out of control.

We are all aware of the dishwashing incident that almost ended my life. That was recently followed by my Christmas day run-in with a razor that removed a dime sized chunk of skin off the middle knuckle on my right hand (Sean: "Was this, like, a straight razor?", Jason: "No, a normal Mach 3. What?! They're tricky!"). That one is still on it's way towards healing, but hurts like nothing else.

And then yesterday. So I was in the kitchen extracting me a big bowl of banana pudding on which to continue to gorge myself (note: mission accomplished) when I managed to drop one of my tiny white ceramic plates on the floor. It proceeded to shatter into one million tiny pieces, as is the custom of all my dishes. At the time it happened, I was all "Ouch," but for no real reason; the dish hadn't landed on my feet. In my one moment of good luck (heh), it had landed directly between my legs, avoiding any sudden amputation of toes.

I went about the process of cleaning it up, a process that is made considerably easier when it is ceramic instead of glass - the whole thing took about 2 minutes. I toss everything in the trash and begin to go back to the pudding, when I realize that there are these weird little red blotches all over the tile in the kitchen floor. It looks like the tracks of something, so I naturally start following them around to see what horrible beast has made residence in our kitchen. (If you have seen my kitchen lately, you would know why this was not a shocking development to me. Place looks like one of those Oprah guests who have a psychological condition and can't throw away trash.)

Only, I follow them all the way around the kitchen in several circles until I realize that I'm the one who is doing the tracking - I am freely bleeding from my right heel. And there is a nice chunk of ceramic embedded in the side of my foot. We'll put aside, for now, the question of how this goes down without me feeling anything except a tiny ouch at the beginning of this whole mess, and get on with story. Miraculously, I get myself into my bathroom without dripping too much blood anywhere, although there is an excellent chance that the cuff of my nice jeans are ruined forever. I extract the ceramic with as little fuss as possible (Just one or two girly yelps. Totally making progress), and I manage to patch myself up enough to work with (lord knows by now I have the most sophisticated first aid kit known to man). But the cut is pretty bad and I can't put pressure on my heel without starting the bleeding up again. So for the past two days, I've been mincing around on the ball of my right foot like the least effective burglar ever.

Seriously, this is out of control. I am about two escalating incidents away from having an entirely useless right side of my body. Already I can't grip things tightly with my right hand (knuckle), and now I'm limping around everywhere. It's like I've taken on injuring myself as some kind of performance art. And it sucks.

Ouch.

That is all.

(Oh, and Happy New Year! May your 2007 be less injury prone than 2006! (Someone's has to be.))

Christmas Fog (Resulting)

There is too much something in the air right now to properly string together a coherent entry. Too much good food, too much time off, too many cool new presents to play with, too many sports to watch, too many warm Christmassy feelings. It's all very nice, but not conducive to either proper posts, or my waistline.

So when all else fails, we fall to a quick series of reviews, and hope that the fog lifts later on.

I knew I was doing that Movie Roundup too soon. I've seen four new movies that will have to be edited in to the list, found one that I missed, and will probably see at least 2 more movies before we officially hit 2007. Which means that the 61 figure is actually more like 68, which...yeah we're not going to think about it.

In no particular order:

• My Super Ex-Girlfriend: My God, this is a bad movie. Horrible. Do not, under any circumstances, including being paid for the effort, watch this movie. No no no no. I hope we're clear.
• Slither: This movie is something of a conundrum. Because on one hand, it's not very good. Too short, a little choppy, some weirdly forced moments, slow in the wrong spots and too quick in the important ones, it's such a strange little movie. On the other hand, Nathan Fillion is great, some of the jokes are just lovely, and the whole B-movie camp factor is deliciously high. Can you really go wrong with a movie about slugs that jump into people's mouths to turn them into zombies? I can't in good conscience recommend it, but I sort of have some serious affection for it. Weird.
• Happy Feet: A sort-of good movie that is ruined by the weirdest ending that one can imagine in a children's feature length cartoon. I am mandated by some unknown higher force to see all movies starring Elijah Wood. This is unavoidable, we know this. The whole thing is not bad entirely bad, though. Robin Williams is only the slightest bit grating, which is the highest praise one can ever give him these days. I like penguins, I like dancing, and the music was pretty good. The whole shoehorned environmentalism last 20 minutes though... Yeah, I got nothing. Not as horrible as expected, but certainly not good either.
• The History Boys: Now this is a good movie. More particularly, this is exactly my kind of movie. Full of words, and literature, it's the story of a set of senior boys in Britian who are studying for their final entrance exams to the college level. There is a Dead Poets' Society sort of vibe going on (a couple of beloved quirky teachers are the focal point of the movie) but not in a sucking kind of way. In a cool, literate, and thinking way. There are some ridiculously hilarious moments, a lot of painfully uncomfortable ones, and pretty much everything in between. It's obviously (and in some cases badly) adapted from the stage version of the play, but by keeping the principle actors from the original cast, you get a very good sense of character, even when the boys sort of become a blur in the condensing of the story. Highly, highly recommended, unless you have a case of gay panic, in which case I recommend you stay far away from this movie (and me).

Christmas Bird

I have had the same alarm clock radio since I was 13 year old. Which is a bit of a deceptive title: only the clock works, not the radio (or the tape deck). But the alarm is the most annoying and loud thing in the world so I've never had the need to look elsewhere for my waking up needs.

Until this morning, when it inexplicably decided not to work. Instead. I woke up on my own approximately 4 minutes before I was supposed to be in the office. Which is something of an issue, seeing as the office is 15 minutes away, and it takes me something in the area of 20 minutes to get ready in the morning. I require a shower, a shave if I don't want to look homeless and drug-addicted, and the process of clothes picking can take a good 5 minutes. Or more if I have to scrounge for socks.

In my bleary state, I decided to scrap all of that, forgo everything and just put on the first thing I grabbed out of the closet. I was out the door in about 5 minutes, no shower, no shave, a too-small striped shirt and yesterdays pants barely in place as I raced to the TOM.

I made it all the way to the highway before I realized that my left contact was in wrong. I had initially thought I was just squinting a lot because I was not prepared for the bright lights of the morning. Instead, it turned out that my contact was actually folded over and slightly jammed under my eyelid. Apparently rushing through the process of sticking things in your eyes is not the best course of action. Particularly when you are doing so on about 2.1 minutes of awakeness.

Somehow without crashing, I managed to remove the offending contact from my eye, at least getting the painful factor out of the way. Replacing the contact in my eye while driving down the highway would be more of an issue. When one regularly cannot nagivate his own living room without banging his knee into the coffee table, he should not be poking at his eye while driving at 60 miles per hour. So I sort of just held the contact on my finger for the remainder of the drive, down two highways and 3 side streets all the way to my office building, and just drove with one eye open.

It wasn't until I was making the final turn to my floor of the parking garage (and I passed by a nice woman who gave me the filthiest look ever) that I realized that I had just spent the last 20 minutes with my hand in the air holding my loose contact on my middle finger, so as not to get it snagged on anything. In other words, I spent my entire ride to work unintentionally flipping off every single person I passed by, all the while with one eye closed in a deranged wink.

So yeah, Merry Christmas to you too!

Big Damn Movie Blog

UPDATED 1/4/07: I've added in the huge influx of movies I saw in the last 15 days of the year, just for completeness's sake. Not that anyone will ever notice.

Hey, so remember last year when I exhaustively went down and itemized every single movie that I had seen that was released in 2005, and then ranked them by some arcane system known to no one, not even myself?

It was a lot of fun (and occupied plenty of my time) so I'm doing it again. I'm really scared to see how many movies I've seen, and absolutely dreading that fact that I'm probably going to break last year's mark (which was already better than one new movie a week). Although I have been much less theatre-going, for sure. Maybe I've become less of a movie whore than previously thought.

(Again, the movie must have been released in 2006. And I divide the movies into 5 distinct categories: Movies that I Actively Hate, Movies that I Only Dislike, Movies I Don't Hate But Also Don't Recommend, Movies That Were Good, and Movies That Were Excellent.)

Movies that I Actively Hate
68. London (Seriously, one of the worst movies I have ever seen. Ever.)
67. Lonesome Jim
66. Final Destination 3
65. My Super Ex-Girlfriend
64. Find Me Guilty (Find me guilty? More like Find Me Boring! AMIRITE?)
63. Aquamarine (Mermaid in the pool? Oh hell no.)
62. Ultraviolet
61. X-men III: The Last Stand (Not actually this bad, but gets a huge demotion because of the massive amounts of disappointment that I feel. Way to screw up the un-screw-up-able, Ratner.)

Movies that I Only Dislike
60. The Break Up (The most depressing Romantic Comedy in the known universe)
59. Scary Movie 4
58. Hostel (Soft-core straight porn followed by horrific gore. Yeah, I'm definitely outside the demographic on that one)
57. Silent Hill
56. You, Me, and Dupree
55. The Benchwarmers (I...wait Rob Schneider is supposed to be the jock? Wait...what?)
54. Date Movie
53. FAQs (Almost verbatim line from the movie - "Two guys kissing is more powerful than an atomic bomb")
52. Crank
51. The DaVinci Code
50. The Lake House
49. Adam & Steve (Another movie that is unfairly hated on by me. Some brilliant things (Parker Posey!) interspersed with some of the worst ideas possible in a movie.)

Movies I Don't Dislike But Don't Recommend Either
48. Clive Barker's The Plague (Dawson! Where have you been. Do you see what happened to Joey the second you let her alone? She married right into crazy. I blame you.)
47. Imagine Me & You
46. Freedomland
45. Art School Confidential
44. A Prairie Home Companion (Aww! Robert Altman. I'm sorry I didn't like your last movie. Cookie's Fortune was awesome, though.)
43. Accepted
42. Stay Alive
41. Winter Passing
40. The Hills Have Eyes (Look how far we have come. From "most vile thing I have ever seen" to "don't dislike." Apparently time does heal some wounds.)
39. The Mostly Unfabulous Social Life of Ethan Green (I feel like I should like this movie either far more or far less than I do.)
38. Over the Hedge
37. Something New
36. Another Gay Movie
35. Running Scared (Another movie that I cannot categorize. Should probably be higher on the list.)
34. Running With Scissors
33. The Last Kiss
32. Clerks II
31. Happy Feet

Movies That Were Good
30. Monster House
29. Slither
28. Superman Returns (Decided I was a little unfair in my review, now that I've had some time to consider it.)
27. John Tucker Must Die (All for you Sophia Bush. Call me! I hate Chad Michael Murray too!)
26. Just My Luck (I love this movie with reckless abandon, and still it is only 23. LiLo just cannot catch a break anymore.)
25. Stick It
24. Strangers With Candy
23. Goal! The Dream Begins
22. Eight Below
21. Underworld: Evolution (Vampires! Werewolves! Scott Speedman! Must use exclamation points!)
20. Inside Man
19. American Dreamz (Dreamz with a Z, indeed. I wish I knew how to quit you, Mandy Moore.)
18. Glory Road
17. Mission: Impossible III (Man, do you think that Felicity wakes up in the middle of the night sometimes and just thanks God that it was Katie Holmes and not her that got sucked into the Tom Cruise system? I feel like she just barely dodged a bullet.)
16. The Science of Sleep
15. Last Holiday
14. V for Vendetta
13. Akeelah and the Bee (My most randomly spouted movie line of the year: "I wanna win the National Spelling Bee!" No, I don't know why.)
12. The Devil Wears Prada (Ask anyone, I both love and hate this movie at the same time to such frightening degrees that it looks like I'm going to have a stroke while it's on.)
11. Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest (Oh, shut up. LOVE.)

Movies That Were Excellent
10. Thank You For Smoking
9. Dreamgirls
8. Stranger Than Fiction
7. The Prestige
6. Cars
5. The Descent (The best horror movie I have seen in AGES)
4. She's the Man (I said shut up! Amanda Bynes, you complete me. Make more movies.)
3. The History Boys
2. Little Miss Sunshine
1. Brick (No exaggeration: I have seen this movie 5 times. I am so weird. But I love it unconditionally. It is like my child.)


AHGH! 68! For those of you keeping score at home, that is 15 more than last year. 15! Good goddamn.

Maybe 2007 will be the year I actually go outside every once in a while. (Unlikely)

Guilty Pleasures

I love me some pie.

Most everyone knows this. Pretty much any type of pie will do: cherry, blueberry, buttermilk, chocolate, pecan, pumpkin...okay I'll stop because I'm sort of drooling now. When I was in my college days I used to keep a whole pie at my desk for a week at a time while I slowly whittled it away into nothing, to the utter horror of my crazy germophobic roommates. I may even have in my possession a T-shirt that was personally made for me that says "Pie Whore." Because I will do pretty much anything for a good piece of pie.

Currently my favorite pie (excluding ones made by my mom, because come on) is the single serving slices of Lemon Meringue Pie they sell at Chick-fil-A. It's some of the most perfect pie in the world, all sweet graham crackery crust with real lemony filling, an obscene amount of whipped meringue topping AND two fresh vanilla wafers.

I'll just go ahead and say it: Anyone who is not craving pie after that description is a Communist. Or a zombie. I'm sorry, but it's the truth.

Anyways, so that was what I had for lunch, a slice of pie from Chick-fil-A, because I am very, very, very poor right now and a slice of pie is filling and nutritious and costs less than $1.50. I ran through the drive thru, because I had some work to take care of back at the office, and brought my delicious pie to my desk to enjoy at my leisure. And it was delicious in a very literal sense.

So good, in fact, that I may have gotten a little overzealous in my pie consumption. Uh...to the point that I may have licked clean the little plastic container that it came in.

What? It was really good.

And yeah, in any case I wasn't so much concentrating on the pie eating, I just remember that it was awfully good.

Unfortunately, my entire office apparently knows exactly how good it was too, since I had to run a bunch of things up and down between my office and the mail room this afternoon, and did so without the knowledge that I had a good portion of that delicious meringue hanging off the tip of my nose. Because that's how I roll: like a dog that snuck some food off the dining room table.

I learned this fact approximately 45 minutes after I finished eating, when I happened to catch my reflection in the shiny door of the elevator. People in my office are awesome. And by 'awesome' I mean 'bitches.'

So, yeah. Rock on.

15 Lessons Learned from Gingerbread HouseParty 2006

In no particular order:

1. One should always go shopping for party supplies earlier than 57 minutes before the party is scheduled to start.
2. When constructing a from-the-box gingerbread house, if the instructions say 'wait 15 minutes for frosting to harden' you had damn well better wait the full 15 minutes. Those instructions were written by goddamn gingerbread house engineers, they know their shit.
3. In the interim drying period referenced above, it would be best to set up a specified area cordoned off by yellow police tape in which to hold the drying house, so as to keep it away from drunken partygoers, who by definition do not have frosting-drying patience.
4. Always plan for at least 10 extra guests than expected. Never underestimate the drawing power of edible houses and hot chocolate.
5. Buy more rum. Trust me.
6. Also, buy more pizza rolls. Can never have too many pizza rolls.
7. In a pinch, powdered apple cider from little one-serving-size packets is an acceptable substitute for the real stuff. Especially when trips to 4 different grocery stores fail to deliver the goods. Seriously, is there some sort of boycott on cider this year?
8. Rum filled cider? Delicious. Kahlua filled hot chocolate? The most delicious thing ever.
9. If house-building fails due to a lack of cordoned area and inebriated party guests, sugar cookie decorating is an acceptable substitute. Also, they are way more edible than the house, which may actually be made up of gingerbread cement rather than cookie.
10. "Everyone's a Little Bit Racist," is not just a song from Avenue Q. Refer back to #5, only add the words "a lot" somewhere in the instructions. Consume and repeat.
11. Always double-check to ensure that your blender is properly assembled and tightly screwed together before letting partygoers utilize it.
12. Failing #11, make sure you have plenty of OxyClean carpet cleaner available. Ain't nothing quite as awesome as OxyClean.
13. When someone turns on the TV and puts in your copy of a transexual rock musical, it is not necessarily a party-killer.
14. But when someone follows it up with an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer? Time for last call.
15. I know it's said every time there is a party, but for real this time: Clean up on the same night. I don't care if it's 3:00 am. You will thank me for it later. Or you'll be cleaning dried frosting out of the carpet 48 hours later and cursing my name. Either way.

Christmas Mix

Y'all, have I mentioned lately that I love Christmas?

'Cause yeah.

Tree is up, Gingerbread party is tonight, and it is nice and wicked cold outside. All is well.

In honor of my festive spirit, I present to you the most awesome Christmas Mix Tape in the history of time and space. Said mix tape will also be playing at the gingerbread party tonight, to keep the level of Christmas spirit as high as possible. And considering we have an actual house-making kit from a store ready to go tonight, I can't help but think that this will be our most successful outing ever.

Jason's Awesome (and Slightly Emo) Christmas Mix Tape 2006

1. Bright Eyes - Blue Christmas [The best Christmas song in the world. Sung a little off key to make it even more poignant.]
2. The Long Winters - Christmas With You Is the Best
3. Wham - Last Christmas [Ain't nobody messing with Wham. Also, you can substitute the Jimmy Eat World cover of the same song, if you have no soul.]
4. The Eels - Christmas is Going to the Dogs [I'm not sure about this song, but I include it for its sheer ridiculous factor.]
5. The Raveonettes - The Christmas Song [Awesome. Second best song on the mix.]
6. Mariah Carey - All I Want for Christmas [Just try and listen to this song and not rock out. Oh that's right, you can't!]
7. Melissa Ethridge - Christmas in America [I can't believe I just admitted to listening to this ridiculous leftist song. I am weak-willed in my old age. Give me a break, it's catchy.]
8. Ron Sexsmith - Maybe This Christmas [Otherwise known as The OC Christmas Anthem.]
9. Death Cab for Cutie - Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)
10. Christina Aguilera - Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas [Almost too much Aguilera-ization but still very good. Got to have the standards in here.]
11. Jars of Clay - Christmas for Cowboys [I sort of love this song, in a Brokeback kind of way.]
12. Eartha Kitt - Santa Baby [Very specific here, you need the live version of her singing it with her jazz orchestra. Every other version of this song that exists in the world sucks like a vacuum.]
13. Pilate - Fairytale of New York [As far as I know, the only Christmas song to contain the phrase "cheap lousy faggot" and still be pretty awesome.]
14. Ivy - Christmas Time is Here [To end of a really pretty and calming note.]

Keep an eye out over the weekend for the party recap.