The Last Walk-In

 A nearly two-year streak came to an end this past weekend. 

Maybe you were too busy watching Here Comes Honey Boo Boo to notice.  But for the first time since 2010, I, Bone, went to see a movie. In a theater.

I know what you're saying. "People still go to the movies?"  Well, judging by the twelve souls who were in the same theater we were Saturday night, I'd say the answer to that question is a big ole resounding... "not really."

Tired of all the bizarre they-must-be-entirely-out-of-ideas movies lately, such as Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Slayer and the talking Teddy Ruxpin (is that redundant?), we opted for an imperceptibly more practical flick: The Odd Life Of Tom Green.

What?  Oh.  Timothy Green.  Sorry.  Or as I kept referring to it: Honey I Grew A Kid In The Garden.

You may be asking, "What might possibly have possessed you to go see that, Bone?"  Well, as the title of one of my seven future autobiographies will state, I did it for a girl.  (There's also Unfortunately I Was There For Almost The Whole Thing.  And the groundbreaking On-bay: Y-may Entire-way Ife-lay En-nay Ig-pay Atin-lay.  The other four are TBD.)

Some will say the movie theater is dying, that Redbox, On-Demand, and poor writing have killed what once was a staple of American weekends.  They will say why put on clothes and go to a theater when you can lie on the couch in your underwear and pop in a DVD.

To them I would say only.... hmm... OK, actually they have a decent point there.  Where was I going with this?  Oh right.  It's not just about watching some crappy movie.  It's about the entire movie-going experience:  the sticky seats, covered by years of who-knows-what; the almost-expected projector malfunction; the previews of even worse movies than the one you're about to see.  

Plus, where else are you gonna get six-dollar soft drinks and nine-dollar popcorn?  An airport?  A ballgame?  A concert?

OK, those are all good answers.

Ah, but here's the kicker:  Where else can you go and pay to be annoyed by the small children of complete strangers for two hours straight?

OK, maybe an airplane.

Anyway, getting back to the movie. What was it called again? Hark, Who Grows There?  Jack Is The Beanstalk?  I must say, once you got past the almost-laughable unbelievability of the premise (which I never really did) it wasn't too awful, albeit predictable.  And I might have to take issue with the guy sitting behind us.  This cinephile could be overheard as we were exiting the octoplex saying in a steep Southern drawl, "That feeyum awwtuh win uh Ah-uhscur."

I'm guessing the Academy might go in another direction on this one, Siskel.

Still, it did have Jennifer Garner in it.  So there was that.  And the guy who played Peter on Office Space also had a small part.

Ah, Office Space.  Now there's a movie.  I actually watched it one afternoon last week. 

From my couch.

In my underwear.

You know, at this point I can't help but think it might be tough to fill seven autobiographies.

"Don't hang around and let your problems surround you /  There are movie shows / Downtown..."

Ode to Monday?

Monday
Why must you be so Monday
I dread you all day long on Sunday
So because of you half my weekend is basically shot

Monday
Why must you be so doggone Monday
Every week you're the same no fun day
What, suddenly I'm the Bangles now? Susanna Hoffs is kinda hot

Monday
I spend fourteen-point-two-eight-five-seven-one-four infinity percent of my life on you, Monday
And that's just wrong

Monday
The Mamas and the Papas sang about you, Monday
I'm running out of things to rhyme with Monday
Only you could make Tuesday not seem all that bad

Monday
They even gave you Monday Night Football and still you suck, Monday
Just thought of a rhyme so I'll put it here: runway
Like at an airport or a fashion show, OK I'm getting off track

Monday
Why must you be so cotton-pickin' Monday
Whatever Norse god you're named for must be pissed, Monday
If it were me, I know I would be highly displeased

Monday
Completely out of things now to rhyme with Monday
In Office Space they got a case of you, Monday
Which, if you didn't catch that, means you're like a disease

Monday
This song seems to go on forever like you do, Monday
The coach of the Orlando Magic is Stan Van Gundy
And I bet he hates himself because his name kinda rhymes with you

Monday
At this point I'm unashamedly using a rhyming dictionary, Monday
You make me want to crash my Hyundai
At a very high rate of speed into a large bed of kudzu

Monday
Still can't believe I spend fourteen-point-two-eight-five percent of my life on you, Monday
No seriously, it's really starting to depress me now, Monday
I wish there were eight days a week so it would only be twelve-point-five

Monday
In the history of the Gregorian calendar you've always been, Monday
I used to like Married With Children with Al Bundy
(Couldn't think of a line here that ended with live, or chive, or connive)

Monday
Why must you be so doggone Monday
I just googled "calculate the day of the week for any date in history" and realized I was born on a Monday...

Well... I suppose you're not all bad

"I was dreamin' when I wrote this. Forgive me if it goes astray..."

The ratio of people to cake is too big!

And now for your enjoyment, Bone channels Milton Waddams from Office Space:

Well I was, I was under the impression that I would, I would be getting Sundays off, and that, that I would only have to work occasionally on Saturdays. And now I'm working almost every Saturday and I told, I told Bill that if this continues, then I'm quitting. And I told Jan, too, because, because they've changed my hours. I used to get off in time to see General Hospital, but now I get off later, and I don't have a TiVo. And I still, I still have five vacation days to take this year. But I haven't, I haven't been able to take my days because they keep increasing my daily tasks, but they haven't increased my pay any. But those are my days, and they better, they better not try to tell me when I can take them, because that's not OK. And if they try to, then I'll set the building on fire.

Thank you.

Just know that I was doing my own Milton impersonation out loud as I typed that, and be thankful this is not an audio post.

Yes, I had to work both Saturday and Sunday this weekend. I used to work seven nights a week all the time when I was at the factory. But having at least one day a week off is like urinating with no burning sensation. After awhile you kinda get used to it.

To me, the forty hour work week was instituted as the absolute maximum number of hours that a human being should ever be required to work. I really have no historical documentation to back this up, but I've always believed that is what the framers of the law had in mind. I think they figured most of us would only be working twenty or thirty hours, three or four days a week. Because (I'm sure) studies (somewhere) have shown that a happy, well-rested employee is a productive employee. Or at least a happy employee.

Of course, things could always be worse. I could not have internet at work. Or my parents could cut off my weekly supplement. Or there could be no term limits for the President.

Despite the heavily oppressed weekend, I did make it over to Axl's after work Saturday to watch some football. Highlights included going over to his on-again, off-again girlfriend's house and letting her dog out for a few minutes. Why he wanted me to come along, I'm not sure.

So there we were, just before sunset in the middle of the neighborhood. Axl was bent over baby-talking the dog trying to get him to "go" in this little ravine. Meanwhile, I was standing about fifty feet away, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible.

About that time, I noticed a lone female jogger coming down the sidewalk. As she passed, I smiled, while behind me in a high-pitched voice, Axl was encouraging the dog to "Go poo poo. Go poo poo."

There's really just no way to make that look cool.

"Work, work, work, day after day. Fifty hour week, forty hour pay. No time to get over all this overtime. Yeah, I'm always runnin', but I'm always runnin' behind.."

If they take my stapler, I'll set the building on fire

I started to begin today by thanking everyone who participated in the first-ever Roast-A-Bone. But do you thank people for roasting you? I'm not sure, so let me just commend you all on a job... done :) I know it was all in fun and fortunately, I've managed to locate all but two of you on google maps...

This weekend, I saw something I'd never seen and did something I haven't done in at least twenty-five years. Quite a teaser, huh? And no, the answers aren't "a Carrot Top routine that made me laugh" and "peed the bed." Although those would fit the criteria had I done them.

Let's start with the thing I haven't done in at least twenty-five years...
This weekend, I flew a kite. A three-dollar Spiderman kite. As the other choices at Wal-Mart were Pokemon or Care Bears.

Two thoughts on kite flying: Now I understand the phrase "go fly a kite" a bit better. Because really, after you get it up in the air, you're just kind of standing there holding a string, looking skyward at a flimsy piece of plastic flapping in the wind for an undetermined amount of time.

Second, I was a bit hesitant about hanging out with the "kite people." Anytime, I've ever seen anyone flying a kite, it's either been a parent with their kids or some grown man, poorly dressed, usually by himself. (And before you ask, I was well-dressed.) The latter group is what I refer to as "kite people." You don't really see a lot of hot 25-year-old women flying kites by themselves.

I did meet a kite person. How do I know he was a kite person? Well for starters, he had a case for his kite. He was flying what he called a "stunt kite," which he controlled with two different strings, and reportedly cost around $300. It sounded like what I would imagine a swarm of locusts might sound like. And when it crashed, it hit the ground with such a thud, I imagined it could kill, or at least severely injure.

That led to the most amusing part of the conversation:
Kite guy: "I've been hit by one of these before."
"Where?"
"At an event."
"They have events?"
"Yeah. Twenty-five or thirty people come. They have competitions and categories for different stunts."
"I bet it's only guys there."
"No, there were a few girls, actually."
"Yeah, kite groupies."
(/end kite story)

And as for the thing I'd never seen...
I finally watched Office Space this weekend. How is it that someone who supposedly knows lots about pop culture is just now seeing this movie? That's a good question. But movies are the one area where I've always kind of lagged. Sports, music, television, I'm your man. But movies, not so much. Besides, no one bothered to tell me Jennifer Aniston is in it!

Anyway, I saw it. And it was hilarious as advertised. So please forgive me if for the next few weeks, I'm dropping references and laughing at things most of you probably laughed at like eight years ago.

It's impossible to pick my favorite scene or line, but I thoroughly enjoyed this:
"Well, I generally come in at least fifteen minutes late. Uh, I use the side door. That way Lumburg can't see me. And, uh, after that I just sorta space out for about an hour."
"Uhh, space out?"
"Yeah, I just stare at my desk. But it looks like I'm working. I do that for probably another hour after lunch, too. I'd say in a given week, I probably only do about fifteen minutes of real, actual work."

This movie also raises some interesting, relevant questions. I've come up with three to ponder:
1. What would you do if you had a million dollars and didn't have to work?
2. What exactly do you do all day?
3. How much time would you estimate you actually spend working during an average day?

So if you could just go ahead and answer those, yeah, that'd be great. Feel free to answer anonymously in order to avoid being fired. That's all for now. Hope no one has a case of the Mondays. And remember, Friday is Hawaiian Shirt Day.

"There's a kite blowing out of control on the breeze. I wonder what's gonna happen to you. You wonder what has happened to me..."