I get it...you're sexy!

And, most likely, unachievable for the likes of me. I see you everywhere I go, reminding me of just how unattainable you are, but as frustrating as it is, I can't stay mad at you.

See you in a couple years.

See this movie!

We just got home from seeing Once, and I am still smiling. This movie is a beautiful, tender story, told over and around the music written and performed by the two leads. Being a jaded moviegoer, I kept waiting for the ugly part, and thankfully, it never came. If you have a chance to go see this movie, do so; if you are disappointed, I will be amazed.

Prediction: on Sunday, February 24, 2008, Falling Slowly will win Best Original Song at the 80th Academy Awards. Mark your calendars.

The Market Has Spoken

I haven't actually seen any of these movies, but I can't say that the death of torture porn makes me sad. In fact, the way it is dying actually gives me hope; instead of angry politicians and offended parent groups calling for boycotts and tougher ratings systems, people are simply not going to see these movies as much. As the dollars dwindle, so will future offerings, like this one I keep seeing advertised on the train.

Good job, America...you're growing up.

Feed me, Seymour...

The Wife and I took advantage of a rare sunny day in the City and took a walk today to the Conservatory of Flowers in the park. It reopened a few years ago, and I loved that the renovations kept the older style in mind.

The special exhibit currently on display features carnivorous plants, which was a lot of fun to look at, but unfortunately, none of them were actively feeding when we were there. I guess it's not like the zoo...bummer.

It's warm (they keep it tropical and moist in there), and it's hard to take a bad picture. Nice afternoon.

No business like Shoah business...

Finished My Holocaust, a satirical novel by Tova Reich about selling the memory of the six million Jews murdered by the Nazis during World War II. Reich skewers everybody, leading up to the final battle to determine whose tragedy wins Worst Genocide Ever. Like other novel-length satires I have read, I thought the story petered out at the end, but this is a fast, funny (in a cringing sort of way) read and worth the trip. I'll go B.

Bless me, Father. I ate a lizard.

I just finished A Canticle for Leibowitz, by Walter M. Miller, Jr., yet another in my recent string of post-apocalyptic novels (not sure that says healthy things about where my mind is these days?). In three acts, the book covers almost one thousand years of "history" after an all-out nuclear (or, as our President would say, "nukular") war almost wipes out humanity. On its surface, the book follows the canonization of Saint Leibowitz, a pre-war scientist whose work to preserve knowledge becomes increasingly mythologized over the centuries, leading to his eventual sainthood. On a deeper level, I think this book is about the seemingly inevitable, cyclical nature of humanity, both in its ability to grow and destroy itself, and I also think this book is about how the distance of time can create Gods from regular people.

That latter theme is one I wrestled with for a long time. When I was growing up, I got into regular arguments with my father about attending his church, an institution that was preaching absolute faith in what could, to my mind, at best be described as allegorical stories and fables. I remember asking him if, a thousand years from now and under the right circumstances, people will be worshipping the Lorax, and if entire holidays will be built around where you can and cannot eat green eggs and ham? Looking back, maybe that wasn't a very fair question, but I was thirteen, and fairness (to others) wasn't very high on my to-do list.

This book was slow at times, but the payoff was worth it. I have decided not to read the "sequel," as I worry it would only detract from my enjoyment of this novel and my respect for the author. Solid A.

Overheard on the train

On the train, going home last night:

"Oh, come on. Let me guess, she has some winning lottery tickets in her purse, too?

- Unidentified, bitter man behind me, speaking after a very attractive woman, wearing very little and carrying a big pizza box, got on the train and asked someone if this train stops at such-and-such street, because that's where her boyfriend lives.

Paying people to rub me

Over the weekend, The Wife and I took advantage of the nice weather to head up to Sonoma for some sun, wine, food, and relaxation. As part of our daytrip, we went to a spa; we have been to this particular spot a couple times before, and have enjoyed our past visits. On this particular occasion, however, several events occurred that gave me pause; I would love to hear any thoughts/ideas on how to handle such things:

• The Talkative Masseuse: the woman who did my massage would not stop talking. On top of that, it wasn't just chatter; she wanted to have an active conversation about her belief that human society has gone too far, and all of our backs would be better if we still squatted and sat on logs, and how I should quit my job if I can't get a better chair in my office. Ugh. Instead of asking her to stop talking, I took the passive route, reducing my responses to monosyllabic grunts, which did seem to slow her down, if not stop her altogether.
  
  
• Overexposed: it is inescapable that, during a massage, there will be parts of your body not normally shown to strangers that will be, if not outright exposed, at best very thinly veiled. I am not sure what this says about my self-esteem and/or modesty, but when there's a lot of Brendon showing, I normally feel sorry for the masseuse, rather than self-conscious. This time, based on both the breeze and the lack of fabric I was feeling, there were definite draping issues. I didn't adjust the sheet, and neither did she; I wondered if it was one of those situations where adjusting the sheet would only have served to call more attention to it, and embarrass both of us, and if we both ignored it, we could both pretend not to notice it? Tough call.
  
  
• Tipping: I always get a little anxious about tipping a masseuse, in part because I am not sure how to calculate the tip. Are you tipping based on time, based on what type of therapy you choose, or is it supposed to be a straight percentage of the overall cost, like a waiter? I have always gone the waiter route, say 15%-20% of the total cost of the treatment before tax, and it looks like most tipping guides agree with me. Given that no waiter has ever rubbed me, I figured it would be more, but that again may say more about me than the industry norms.
  

I should note that none of what is described above was really unpleasant or bad enough to make me reconsider going back; in fairness, I should also say that the massage itself was one of the best I have ever received, and I guess the chatter was worth the lack of pain today. Next time: bring the iPod.

TK421, why aren't you in my closet?

When your spouse tells you that you will be attending a wedding for one of his/her co-workers, I imagine your response is similar to mine: ugh. But when The Wife told me that we will be attending the upcoming wedding of a particular co-worker, I may have actually giggled with delight. Here's why:


This particular co-worker is marrying a nice young man...who happens to belong to the Golden Gate Garrison of the 501st Legion (the fighting 501st!), the self-billed "definitive Imperial costuming organization." I have been told that, although there may not be any Stormtroopers at the actual wedding (which there should be, if this is going to be a recognized union within the Empire), I can expect to see at least a small attachment make an appearance at the reception. You know what this means: pictures of me with Stormtroopers. Even as I am typing this, I am giggling again.

I got so exicited that I had a fleeting thought about building my own costume and enlisting...but that dream lasted about five minutes. Check out this site for instructions on building your own Stormtrooper suit. The short version: this is a long, expensive, time-consuming and potentially dangerous process that requires a LOT of money and a LOT of commitment. Of the voluminous materials needed to build a suit of armor, the only one I own is "the dream," and even that can get expensive.

UPDATE (5-21-07): The 501st made an appearance at the Bay To Breakers 12K yesterday, and a local station posted some footage of them (and others) here. Very cool!

All the way home

I would be shocked if I am the first person to bring this up, but apparently introductions may be in order.



Please meet...



You two have a lot in common, and should be making a lot of money together. Discuss.

Fun in the snow

This time last weekend, we were in snowy Lake Tahoe for a weekend getaway that almost didn't let us get away (see what I did there?). We stayed at the Montbleu, one of the casinos built about 2" over the Nevada state line, and had a very nice time. It was a good trip; we had some spa time, some poker time, and some us time. All very needed, and all very fun.

My better half ruled the poker tables; she monied in a tournament, and then took down a couple locals at a cash game, netting us enough money to almost pay off the whole trip. The cash game was a step up for us; we played $1-$2 No Limit, a style of poker we play in the tournaments, but there is a HUGE difference between throwing tournament chips into the pot and throwing actual money in there. We played for a couple hours; she almost tripled her buy in, and I walked away with $14 more than I sat down with. Both wins, right? Right? By the way, we didn't play at the CalNeva; I took this pic in memory of any number of law school discussions about venue that always took place at the CalNeva. Nothing like a good venue joke.

The only stressful part was when, Saturday night, an "unexpected Spring storm" blew in, bringing a nice coat of snow with it (you can see it blowing in the pic if you look closely). When we woke up Sunday morning to leave, we were told by the front desk to just put our chains on, and we'd be fine getting home. When I mentioned that we don't own chains, the lady asked me, "Well, you have four wheel drive, right?" When I explained that our Mini Cooper has four tires, but not much more than that, we were told to "drive very slowly." Done and done. By the time we left, the chain controls were off, and we got home without incident, but covered with salt and sand. Worth it.

We'll be back, Tahoe...but next time, several months into summer.

King of Cliched Plot Twists

I really need to exercise my new-found freedom to stop reading books. For whatever reason, I made it to the final page of The King of Colored Town, by Darryl Wimberley. If this book is not made into a movie, shown on Hallmark, Lifetime, Oxygen, or some other sappy channel with a predominantly pink webpage, I will be shocked.

Wimberley, a screenwriter, takes the reader on an overwrought, treacly journey where every cliche from every other book about America's segregated past is visible forty pages before it arrives: the poor young Black girl who overcomes incredible odds, the troubled young Black man who loves her but shares a terrible secret with our heroine, the hard-working teachers who help her, the spoiled rich white kids who hate her, etc., etc. Even the inevitable rape scene, at the hands of malicious men who think she is "uppity," not only occurs exactly where you would expect it to happen, but it takes a physical toll on the main character that, in what I am sure the author meant to be irony, robs the main character of her ability to take advantage of the scholarship you knew she would be offered.

This is a lazy, predictable book that pushes well past the boundaries of reality in an attempt to tell a story that I am sure was meant to be heart-warming and/or life affirming, but just comes off to me as a desperate attempt to carve out some chick lit dollars, both in books and eventually on screen. Ugh. D-

Big Book Roundup

Haven't talked about what I have been reading for a while, so here are some quicky reviews of the last few titles that have accompanied me on the train:



Half of a Yellow Sun, by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. Beautifully written, great characters, and an amazing historical backdrop. Recommended. Solid A









English, August, by Upamanyu Chatterjee. Billed as the Indian Catcher in the Rye, I liked this book for the laziness of the main character, but more for the way he grew up towards the end. A good read for your own shiftless summer. Solid B








Furies of Calderon, by Jim Butcher. Fun fantasy book set in a world where everybody can conjure spirits, and therefore using magic is the norm. I like the author from his Dresden series, and so far this doesn't disappoint. B+








Letter to a Christian Nation, by Sam Harris. Awesome! A fantastic read, insightful and intelligent...everything I wanted from the Dawkins book, without any of the smugness or arrogance. Has changed the way I think and talk about my faith and my feelings about organized religion. Highly recommended. A+

Learn from me, gentle readers

Something we probably all know (and if you didn't before, now you do): you are entitled, once per year, to a free copy of your credit report.

Something I learned today, that you may already know, but if you did not, learn from my mistake: FreeCreditReport.com is a commercial site that will give you a "free" copy of your credit report, but only after you sign up for a yearly membership @ $12.95/month. (in all fairness, you do have the option of cancelling your yearly membership during the first month and you will pay nothing; however, in order to cancel your membership, you have to search diligently through the website's FAQ section for the 800 number [which is 1-877-481-6826, if you need it], call said 800 number, wait on hold, and then talk to a customer service rep who will read through some binder filled with information you already know in an attempt to talk you out of cancelling your membership. Ugh.)

However, AnnualCreditReport.com is where you can get an actually free report, once per year, without buying anything (or, in my case, without nervously staring at a calendar).

Hope that helps someone.

One Shining Moment

Some thoughts on last night's NCAA Championship game...

• The game itself was fun and fast-paced, a welcome relief after last year's buzz killer of a snoozefest. Congrats to the Gators; I assume the starting five will all go pro, which is good, as I am tired of seeing skanky Joakim Noah on my television.
  
• I also assume/hope that Greg Oden goes pro, as I cannot deal with the verbal masturbation of every announcer every time Oden steps on the floor. Enough, already!
  
• Was sorry my Colonels didn't make the cut for the "One Shining Moment" montage at the end. Apparently the guys in the editing room had just come from a strip club, and so made sure to include plenty of the dance teams and that Oregon cheerleader's ass. Maybe EKU should have played in g-strings?
  
• Was also sorry that, once again, I got owned in my bracket pool. I realize this sounds like a lie, but when I first put together my brackets, I had so many 1 and 2 seeds going deep that I said to myself, "That never happens," and went back in and picked a lot of upsets. Not to be.
  
• On a somewhat unrelated topic, did everybody see the commercial for Transformers, coming out this summer? That looks like good, brain-dead fun; I'll go see it so you don't have to.
  

Good tournament, and once again, I go into my sports cocoon, only to reemerge next November when college basketball returns. Enjoy your stock cars and football, America!

Sprung

Ah, Spring...that time of the year here in The City when I can leave my windows open 24 hours a day...and hear the car alarms down the street. When it is still light out when I leave work...meaning I get a better view of exactly what is in (and coming out of) the smelly pseudohippie's hair as he shakes his head back and forth on the train. When baseball is just around the corner...which means more time at the train station, getting slowed down by idiots coming to see the Giants, and who have obviously never been on transit before, let alone experienced the magic of an escalator. It's not a f--king ride, morons...keep moving.

Bitterness is in the air...

Gettin' Lucky in Kentucky

Last week, we went to Kentucky to spend some time with the family, as well as take in the first round of the NCAA tournament. The post below has links to some video I took; here are some pictures.

This is us at the games in Rupp Arena. When I bought the seats, I was not told that all of the seating in the upper deck of Rupp consists of bleachers...metal, no-backed bleachers. Not fun. We were crammed in together, and by Saturday, my back was killing me. Great games, but I would definitely think twice about going again in the future.

This is of me, rubbing Daniel Boone's foot for good luck at my alma mater, Eastern Kentucky University. I was very disappointed that they did not play in Lexington in the first round, but I was able to make the drive down to Richmond to see the old haunts, take some fun pics, and even buy a couple t-shirts. As we were driving past the arena, a bus pulled up, and out came the basketball team. As they had lost to North Carolina the night before, there was not a lot of fanfare, so I decided not to go say hi. Probably for the best; they looked pretty dejected, which I hope was from many hours on a bus, and not from their very respectable play against UNC.

Lots of good friends, family, and basketball. I even got to eat at a Bob Evans again...you just can't get those biscuits in California. Great trip!

NCAA vids

If you head over to my YouTube channel, you can see several new videos I have posted from my recent trip to Lexington, Kentucky, one of the host cities for the NCAA tournament. As my brackets are no longer worth the paper they are printed on, these videos and the remaining games will have to be enough to entertain you.

This video highlights one of the more fascinating things I saw at the games.



The Texas A&M Aggies did not have cheerleaders; instead, they have Yell Leaders, these vaguely Mormon-ish looking guys who give hand signals to the crowd to tell them what "yell" is next. You can read more about it here, but take it from me, as funny as it is to read about people in the "humping it" position is, it is a thousand times funnier to see hundreds of people actually doing it. Priceless.

Cat Touch Fever

We have two cats; one is 12 years old, the other is 7. When the younger one was a kitten, he would sleep nicely with the other cat, and she seemed to tolerate him. As he got older and more feisty, she kept her distance.

Over the past year or so, the younger one has calmed down a little, and I think they are starting to tolerate each other again. Now and then, if I come into a room quietly, I will see them sleeping near each other, but not touching. Because they are starting to accept each other, and because it is pretty chilly here 11 months out of 12, I have this theory that they lie next to each other for warmth, but only when we are not around to see them. Yes, I give them that much credit.

Over the weekend, I walked very quietly into the back bedroom, and took this picture:

The gray, older cat is at the top of the picture, and the younger one is that lump under the bed spread.

I finally cracked the case: my cats are Orthodox!

Big Dance, Take Two

With a last-second shot, my Eastern Kentucky University Colonels won the OVC Championship game, and advanced to their second NCAA Tournament in the past three years. Congratulations, Colonels, and good luck in the Big Dance!








ps. I know EKU will do well, if only because of their improved mascot.
Would you be afraid to play ball with this guy?