Velcrometer
Throwing stuff at the internet to see what sticks
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M. Giant's Velcrometer Throwing stuff at the internet to see what sticks |
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Wednesday, February 25, 2004 Humpblog (2/25/04) I congratulated the Diarist Awards Finalists last quarter, so I should probably do the same this quarter, even at the risk of seeming self-congratulatory. Thanks to whomever nominated me, and to the panel for letting me sneak further along in the process. I've never met or even talked to either of the people I'm up against, but one of them sort of invited Trash and me to stay at their house once, I think. At least that's what we heard. It's a little complicated. * * * When I got home last night, there were three vans from the local cable company parked outside our neighbor's house. "They're getting all the cable," I commented to Trash. How many channels does it take to fill up three vans, anyway? * * * I just want to take a moment to show you my new desktop wallpaper picture:  That was my favorite episode of Angel ever. Turning the lead character into a preternaturally scowly Crank-Yanker made no sense, happened for no discernible story-driven reason, and was just about the funniest damn thing I've seen on TV in years. I'm convinced there'd be a lot more press for this episode if Angel hadn't already been taking up an inordinately large segment of the press cycle simply by getting cancelled the same week. Maybe this was the episode that could have saved it. And if Bobby Kennedy were still alive, he'd forgive Sirhan Sirhan. All TV shows should do this, immediately. Well? I'm waiting, CSI. I want to see a plush Marg Helgenberger with a Bert-width mouth and its eyes on opposite sides of its head; a Gary Dourdan with a forehead made of an entire yard of felt bunched up into twelve square inches; an even more neckless George Eads. Or they could go the gutless route and spin off CSI: Sesame Street with all new criminalists bopping around with fixed eyeballs and never being shown below the waist. I don't care, as long as I see characters analyzing cotton batting samples for DNA. * * * Last night, we decided that we're going to spend next week in Paris. Shortly thereafter, we decided not to. You wouldn't believe the deals they're offering to get to Paris right now. Maybe it's because the weather there right now is almost exactly the same as the weather here, or maybe it's because the national security briefings being ignored this month have to do with flights out of Charles de Gaulle, but we were very tempted. Logistical concerns made it unworkable, however, for reasons I sha'n't bore you with. So we looked for someplace else to fly to. Such a place had to be 1) warm, 2) interesting, 3) someplace we'd never been before, and 4) cheaper to get to than Paris. Turns out number four was the most common dealbreaker, eliminating countless glamorous destinations from Sydney to Little Rock. But we still have a car. Perhaps next week I'll be sending you breathless dispatches from exotic, exciting, Rochester! It could happen. * * * Deniece came up for a visit last weekend. It's a little alarming how much she's grown, just in the last two months since we saw her. She has a working vocabulary and can speak in complete sentences. She has ever-greater control of her movements, and when she doesn't, she quickly chirps, "I'm otay" from her new position on the floor. There's even a remarkable new feature that resembles an attention span. She understands what you say to her, provided you don't make it purposely confusing. All of which puts her well above some people I used to work with. Unfortunately for her, she can no longer pull off the toddler's selective verbal comprehension that keeps so many two-year-olds alive. Nobody will ever again believe that she really thinks "Come back down here" means "Climb faster," or that "Get your fingers out of there" means "Please yank that Disney tape out of the VCR manually." That's something she's still coming to terms with. We spent some time entertaining her with Windows screensavers, particularly the ones that are somewhat fish-like in nature. She's deep into a Finding Nemo phase right now (geddit? Deep? Never mind). Once the flying windows or flapping flags appeared on the screen, she got a kick out of hitting the keyboard and crowing, "I stopped it," once again demonstrating that in the area of computer savvy at least, her intellectual development is already well past that of some of my former coworkers. These piscine displays were just a warmup for the weekend's main event. Trash and I didn't go along when her mom brought her to Underwater World at the Mall of America, but we heard about it later. They've got an exhibit of fish now that look like the characters from Finding Nemo. Deniece's mom saw firsthand what might happen if science could find a way to cram the equivalent of seven years of Beatlemania into a two-year-old human being. NEMO!! I DON'T BELIEVE IT!!!! DORY!!!! AAAAAAAAAAH!!! MOMEEEEE, LOOK!!!! BUBBLES!!!!!!!! We've got to get that kid out of Iowa. Today's best search phrase: "Score bands names money coin fiver artist." Boy, I hear that. I don't understand it, but I hear it. posted by M. Giant 3:23 PM 0 comments 0 Comments:
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