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..."

With apologies to CCR

Before we begin today, I have a confession to make: I kinda want to see Hot Tub Time Machine.

I know! It's just, the previews look rather hilarious. Also, I've never been in a hot tub or a time machine. And while I'll always consider the latter a definite possibility, the former -- given my chronic germophobia -- will likely never happen.

Whew, I'm glad to have that off my chest. Now we can move on to more pressing matters. (Could it get any less pressing?)

The NCAA Tournament has taken up quite a bit of my time these past two weekends. I wish I could say the same for the Kansas Jayhawks, my pick for national champs. Unfortunately, they couldn't be bothered with more than a couple days of March Madness this year.

The Bone bracket was a mixed bag. I correctly picked St. Mary's and Cornell for the Sweet Sixteen. However, I also had Georgetown in the Elite Eight. And only one of my Final Four picks made it: West Virginia.

Finally, I feel I would be remiss if I didn't mention a topic that is on the minds of many Americans these days. And that is, how to fix our current fantasy baseball team naming system.

Last year my team -- Los Rojos -- finished 3rd. For some people, that might be satisfactory. But I say no! When did 3rd place become good enough? This is America! No one goes around shouting "We're number three!" They don't sell big foam hands with three fingers extended at football games.

Combine that with the fact that I finished in 4th place the year before, and it became obvious to me the current system wasn't working. It was time for a change.

So I put a lot of thought into coming up with a plan which would select the best fantasy team name possible. One which would both display my right-brain creativity and inspire my left-brain baseball knowledge, thus resulting in a first-place finish.

After narrowing down my choices to five finalists, I consulted with several of my trusted inner email circle, then submitted my final choice for approval. Well, the right-wing anti-Bone fat cats at Yahoo Sports were having none of it. Clearly clinging to failed policies of the past, they had placed an ultra-conservative 20-character limit on all fantasy team names. Therefore, the greatest team name in fantasy sports history -- Between Bill Buckner's Legs -- will not be used.

Forced to scramble and come up with an eleventh-hour compromise -- my fantasy draft is Wednesday -- I did my best. I know some of you may view this as nothing more than a heavily watered down version of my original proposal, but my hope is that it will at least be better than what we had.

And so, without further adieu, allow me to introduce you to your 2010 Bone fantasy baseball team: Rolen On The River.

Is this change we can believe in? Time will tell.

"Left a good job in the city, workin' for the man every night and day. And I never lost one minute sleepin', worrying 'bout the way things might have been..."

I waited three years for this?

December, 2006. Oh what a night.

Do you remember where you were?

I sure do. For that was when I somehow coerced a female into an evening out with me. We went to the movies. The film? Rocky Balboa, not surprisingly. That was also the last time I had been to a movie theater. Until last weekend.

I don't know what it was that brought me back. Maybe it was all the talk about the Oscars. Maybe it was the lack of anything better to do. Or maybe it simply took me this long to coerce another female into spending an evening with me. Whatever it was, the almost-three-and-a-half-year streak is over.

It will go down as one of the great streaks of all-time. Right up there with not drinking any carbonated beverages for sixty-three consecutive days in the late nineties, my 18-game winning streak in online Scrabble, and of course, "The Streak" by Ray Stevens.

So what did I see? Well, I considered the usual suspects -- The Blind Side, The Hurt Locker -- but you don't end a streak as impressive as this one with some run-of-the-mill Oscar-nominated Hollywood fluff. Also, neither of those were playing at the quadplex that we attended. No, our choices were Valentine's Day, Alice In Wonderland, Shutter Island, and Cop Out.

So naturally, we/I decided on Cop Out. If the streak was gonna die, it was going out with a classic. Co-starring Tracy Morgan and the incomparable Bruce Willis, along with special guest star Stiffler from American Pie, how could we go wrong?

The theater was pretty much state-of-the-art... for the 1980's. I half-expected to see a Tab dispenser on their soda fountain. And as someone who has only been to the movies twice in the past three-plus years, I won't attempt to do a movie review. But let me just say this was the best Bruce Willis movie I've seen since Sixth Sense.

Of course, it's also the first Bruce Willis movie I've seen since Sixth Sense. But now I'm just splitting hairs.

"Oh, what a night. Late December back in '63. What a very special time for me, 'cause I remember what a night..."

Short shorts

This post is brought to you by Nair. For men.

Well, as it has every Friday evening since the advent of the five-day work week--which based on everything I know was somewhere around the time of The Flintstones--the weekend has arrived. I plan to spend part of mine watching some of the British Open as well as the Tour de France. I figure that'll suffice for my monthly allotment of British and French culture.

After spending the past couple of months sweltering, including one stretch of twenty consecutive days over ninety degrees, we're actually forecast to have near record low temperatures this weekend. As in, it could drop into the upper 50's Saturday night. I'm going to do my best to avoid cutting the heat on. Just my little way of going green.

I would like to close today with three short and unrelated anecdotes. My ultimate hope is that these brief glimpses into my life will bring a smile to your heart, if not your face, and a sunniness to your disposition, if not your sky.

Anecdote #1: My new girlfriend
Yesterday at work, the secretary burst into the office and with urgency in her voice said, "Bone, come here, I found you a girl! Hurry!" Well, I figured something was up, especially after I'd recently taped a piece of cardboard over the sensor on her optical mouse which took her like ten minutes to figure out. But I played along. After all, she did say the word "girl."

So I got out to her office and she pointed to the TV. The local 12 o'clock news was on and they were interviewing a roller derby girl. Is it wrong that I was more than a bit intrigued?

Anecdote #2: More than just a few digits short
I probably should provide some background on this story. LJ--you remember him from my tales of Wolfgang & LJ, also known as The Darryls--does not have a cell phone. He's never had a cell phone. You might recall that he procured a girlfriend a few months ago. A couple of weeks ago while we were hanging out at his house, he got to texting his girlfriend with Wolfgang's phone.

Zoom forward to this week. LJ is out of town for a few days. He left yesterday. This afternoon I have the following text exchange with Wolfgang:

WG: You're not gonna believe what I'm about to tell you. LJ called me this morning.
Bone: OK. What'd he want?
WG: He wanted to know if I could remember the first 3 numbers of his girlfriend's phone number.

Remind me again why I've not turned their lives into a sitcom?

Anecdote #3: Know your Woodys
Last, and least, this one needs no explanation.

"I kinda wanna see that new Larry David movie. Even though I haven't been to the theater in about two and a half years."
"What's it called?"
"I can't remember. It's a Woody Allen film."
"I've never been a big fan. Woody Allen is in my least favorite movie of all time."
"Really? What's that?"
"White Men Can't Jump."

You just can't make this stuff up.

"Call my line, call me anytime. I'll be there for you. I've been searching high. I've been searching low. Baa-ba-ba-baa, baa-ba-ba-baa baby, don't forget my number..."

Festivus IV

Every year around this time, I start hearing the questions. It really should come as no surprise. I mean, I'm single, thin, mid-thirties, and have an above average knowledge of all things Seinfeld.

"When's Festivus?"

"Are you having Festivus this year?"

After last year's 3rd Annual Festivus At Bone's drew only eight guests, down from the previous year's all-time high of fourteen, I had been considering not having Festivus this year. (Pause for gasps and bellows.)

I know, it's like telling a child Christmas has been cancelled. I just never realized how hard it would be to sustain a fake holiday. As I wrestled back and forth with the decision of whether or not to have a bunch of people over to trash my place, time just slipped up on me.

Tuesday is Festivus. Yet my Festivus pole remains in the crawlspace. Festivus evites have not been sent. And no Twix have been purchased for the candy lineup. Most importantly, my apartment has not been cleaned because I haven't had a girl over in weeks.

It's all these menial tasks. Laundry, grocery shopping, getting on here and surfing the internet. Do you have any idea how much time I waste on this computer? Throw in the fact that the city council has outlawed cockfighting, as well as unsanctioned cage fighting--severely limiting the options for the Feats of Strength--and it looked like Festivus wasn't going to happen.

Still, I was holding out hope right up to the last minute. Maybe some unexpected event, the magnitude of Donna Martin Graduates or the Save The Max radiothon, would occur to save Festivus.

It's kinda like in Liar Liar when Jim Carrey promised he was going to play baseball with the kid who played Lucas on General Hospital. And that girl from ER waited and waited until the very last minute even though Jim Carrey had let them down time and again. Then Jim Carrey gets thrown into jail, which is where the Festivus analogy kind of goes awry. Except that they boarded a plane for Boston with the guy who played David Lookner on Seinfeld, which kind of brings the whole thing full circle. But anyway...

I was ready to come to terms with the fact that there would be no 4th Annual Festivus At Bone's. Then the female portion of Kywana called the other day and said "Silver Bells" had come on the radio when she was in the car, and Kywana Jr. started singing "Silver Pole" instead of "Silver Bells." *sniff sniff*

Well, I just about lost it. And that's when I remembered what Festivus is all about. It's not about having a clean apartment or how many of your friends don't show up even though they tell you they will. Festivus is about getting together with people and feeling no obligation to buy them a gift. It's about letting those you care for know all the ways they have disappointed you over the past year. Most of all, it's about passing Frank Costanza's vision on to the next generation.

So Festivus at Bone's is on for Friday night. It's another Festivus miracle! Besides, if I don't do it, who will?

Sure, it's probably too late to book Christopher Cross. Actually, it's probably not. Still, there'll be lots of shouting and plenty of food if you get there early. And considering how close this Festivus was to not happening at all, I'd say there's a good chance it will surpass all Festivuses (Festivi?) past--all three of them.

Here's wishing you all a Happy Festivus For The Rest Of Us! Now, please join me in singing that favorite of all Festivus songs, Silver Pole.

"Silver Pole, Silver Pole. It's Festivus in the city. Tinsel free. So sturdy. Soon it will be Festivus..."

Car Wash: The Remake

Today on IYROOBTY, we are proud to announce a modern-day, updated version of a true cult classic, Car Wash. Keen observers and film aficionados may notice a few inconsistencies between the new version of Car Wash and the original. This can mostly be attributed to the fact that I never watched the whole movie.

Really, this is more like a mime version of the original. It stars, coincidentally, a guy named Bone, and naturally, a car wash. The setting is on or about July the thirtieth, two thousand and eight. Here's a brief summary, or a lengthy detailed description. Whichever.

Act The First:

Our star, Bone, is driving around with bugs on his car, a not uncommon human dilemma. He has waited patiently for three days hoping for rain to come and wash the bugs away, but the land remains dry and dusty. Tired of public ridicule and people writing "wash me" on his vehicle, our star decides to take action. The express drive thru car wash is already closed for the evening, so he pulls into the self-service car wash, thinking he'll spray off the car for a temporary fix. (Yes, you can tell what he's thinking by his miming. He's really good.)

Act The Second:

This scene begins with a wide angle view of the car wash, which shows someone washing another car in an adjacent bay. There has been speculation that this someone is one of the original members of Rose Royce, but at this time, that is still unconfirmed. The camera then pans to a close up of the control box and a sign that reads: "$1.50 to start. Extra quarters mean extra time. Quarters must be deposited before time expires."

Our hero (notice how our star has now become our hero) then retreats to his vehicle where he opens the top of a container, revealing a hidden treasure of quarters, dimes, nickels, pennies, and napkins. And not just any quarters, but new ones like Oklahoma and New Mexico. (NOTE: Despite an internet leak, this is not the story's climax.)

Our hero deposits nine quarters into the slot, figuring that will give him ample time to spray off the car. After soaping and rinsing the entire car with the super high powered jet sprayer, and in the process speeding up the onset of carpal tunnel syndrome by one thousand percent, our hero discovers that the machine is still running. The camera pans to the foam brush across the bay.

Act The Third:

Still in the car wash, our hero flips the knob to "foam brush" and a hot pink--how shall I describe this--well, foam starts coming out in clumps. In a flash, Bone rushes over and begins to cover the car in pink foamy goodness.

Unfortunately, there is no "time remaining" indicator. Somehow our hero senses his time may be short--not on this Earth, just in the car wash. So he returns to the vessel of loose change, retrieving three more quarters. He deposits them into the slot, but it is too late. The car wash has stopped.

Distraught but not defeated, our star--who was once compared to a young Danny Glover--returns yet again to the vessel of loose change. Using his lone superpower--ability to solve simple math problems without the use of pen and paper--he figures it will require three more quarters in addition to the three he has already deposited to start the car wash again. He has figured correctly.

A thorough foaming is followed by more high powered rinsing and carpal tunnel acceleration. This is definitely the action scene, which includes frequent splattering of the pink foam onto our hero's otherwise manly ensemble of distressed slightly below the knee cargo khaki shorts, bright orange and white fitted striped polo, and American Eagle flip flops. (Can you say endorsement deal?)

Act The Fourth:

Still at the car wash, rinsing is almost complete when the not unthinkable happens. The time has expired again. It is here where our hero appears to yell something. However, to preserve the integrity of the mime performance, this audio has been omitted. It is unclear what he says, but in this instant he appears to be less than enamored with the vehicle cleansing contraption.

And here we have the great conflict in our story. There is still foam on the grill of the car, as well as part of the hood and front quarter panels. Our hero grapples with the decision of whether to spend $1.50 more, or whether to drive out of the car wash looking like an idiot with pink foam covering the front of his car.

Deciding his twelve bits can be put to better use someplace else, our hero devises a plan. He will try and drive really fast on the way home in hopes the suds will blow off his car. This leads us to the requisite car chase scene. Except it's not really a chase. Just a single car race. Against normal human behavior and common sense.

I Plead The Fifth:

(SPOILER WARNING!!!!)
Our final act opens with our hero arriving home. He gets out of the car and walks to the front, appearing both hesitant and anxious to see if his plan has worked.

It has not.

Whether foiled by the 30 mph speed limit or the fact that it was only a four block drive from the car wash home, it is unclear. Our hero is once again down. The pink foam still clinging to the front serves as a sudsy reminder of his latest setback.

Displaying amazing resilience, learned from losing thirty consecutive games of Othello online, this modern-day MacGyver comes up with one final plan. He goes inside and soon returns to the parking lot with a pitcher full of water.

Our final scene shows our hero standing in the parking lot of his apartment complex at 8:30 in the evening pouring a pitcher of water over his car, gracefully and successfully washing away the remaining pink foam. Twelve bits none the poorer.

Who's the idiot now.

"Let me tell you it's always cool. And the boss don't mind sometimes if ya act the fool..."

The backwards entry

The weekend recapitulation has begun. Please remain seated and keep your eyes on the blog at all times. The ride is actually running backwards today, so we'll begin with today and end with Friday, just hitting the highlights.

(Note: All times are approximate.)

Right now: I'm looking at a plate with five grapes on it. I had a whole bunch, but one had a bad spot on it. Just leaving one didn't feel right, so I left five. A nice OCD-friendly number.

Thirty minutes ago: I went downstairs, got some grapes out of the refrigerator, washed them, put them on a plate, brought them upstairs and started eating them.

Thirty-one minutes ago: I started craving grapes.

Forty-five minutes ago: I wiki'd Dido. Did you know her real name is Dido Florian Cloud de Bounevialle O'Malley Armstrong? Sounds French-Irish. Also, she was born on Christmas Day, 1971. And she is supposed to have a new album coming out September 23rd.

Forty-five minutes and ten seconds ago: "White Flag" by Dido came on iTunes.

Four hours and fifteen minutes ago: I decided not to fold towels.

Four hours, fifteen minutes, and one second ago: I thought about folding towels.

An indeterminate amount of time ago, but still today: I watched a couple of old movies--Blackboard Jungle, with Sidney Poitier and Vic Morrow. And Alfred Hitchcock's The Trouble With Harry. They were both excellent. I love Turner Classic Movies!

Reverting back to the present (What? It's my blog, my rules): Christopher Cross just came on iTunes. I will not wiki him. I will not wiki him. But it's... really... hard.

Still present: Actually, that was kind of cool. It's like Back To The Future III, where they kept going back and forth in time and no one had any idea what was going on.

Still present, part III: OK, this is getting pretty long. So far, despite how exciting the Dido fun facts were, you've been on the uphill portion of the ride. Now, we're about to crest the hill. For the remainder of this entry, everything will go much faster, and you may or may not hear people screaming and small children crying.

One day ago, aka Saturday: Little Joe and I went to my friend Jamie's house on the lake. It was there that I fell off a jet ski for the first time in my life.

We were all three on it at the time. I was driving. Jamie was sitting between Little Joe and I, just to clarify. Her visor had blown off--due either to my fast and furious driving style or, more likely, a loose fit--and I had circled back around to look for it. We briefly discussed if and how long it might float. I thought about all the times I had seen the "Will It Float?" game on Letterman, and tried to remember if they ever used a cloth visor, but it seemed unlikely.

Reverting back to the present: Coincidentally, I caught the end of Hope Floats today on TV. "Birdee and Bernice, the coolest chicks in Smithville. So don't you ever think about leaving me again, because I need you." Sniff, sniff.

One day ago, picking up where I left off: It was about this same time that I began to ponder why the lifeguards on Baywatch didn't have jet skis. Not that I watched the show much... after Nicole Eggert left. But it seems to me they could have gotten to people a lot quicker on a jet ski, rather than just with that little orange floatie thing.

Anyway, we could talk about Baywatch all night. But back to our story. I located Jamie's visor and rescued it, and was feeling pretty good about myself. For about five seconds. When I tried to turn around to head back to the house, I turned a bit too sharply, and we all went over. It was actually fun. I'd do it again if I were still allowed to touch the jet ski.

Reverting to the present one last time: Christopher Cross' real name is Christopher Geppert. He recorded a new Christmas album that was released on iTunes last November. He won five Grammy Awards in 1981. But most importantly, he was mentioned in "The Millennium" episode of Seinfeld, where Newman reveals he booked Christopher Cross for his Newmannium party, which he started planning in 1978.

Two days ago, aka Friday: The Darryls were going out with a couple other people and invited me along, but I declined. Then I tried to hypnotize myself. I said, "When you wake up, you'll be exactly the same person you were before." You know, just in case.

This concludes your ride today on IYROOBTY. Please exit via the blogroll on the right and enjoy your stay in the blogosphere.

"If you get caught between the moon and New York City, the best that you can do, the best that you can do is fall in love..."

Take those old movies off the shelf

By no means am I a movie buff. I go to the theatre maybe once a year. I've probably heard the phrase "I can't believe you haven't seen that" more than any human being on the face of the Earth. (As opposed to humans currently inhabiting other planets?)

But times, they are a-changin'. My new found love is classic movies. These days, I can frequently be found scanning the television in search of an old black and white film. My new favorite channel is Turner Classic Movies.

Tonight I watched The Shop Around The Corner, with Jimmy Stewart and Margaret Sullavan. It's the movie that You've Got Mail was based on. It was a delight, funny and captivating throughout. Several times I found myself laughing out loud.

There is an alluring simplicity to classic movies. Without all the distractions and special effects of films today, the focus is entirely on the story, the writing, and the acting. And what wonderful acting.

The dialogue is quick and clever and delivered flawlessly. Even supporting actors seem to be perfectly placed and add so much to the film. The humor is subtle. Understated, but hilarious, without ever being crass. When did that type of comedy go out of style?

Classic movies often offer a look at America during a simpler time. A time when, as in the movie I watched tonight, a man could support a family working at a retail shop. There wasn't all the excess that there is today. Even though times were hard, there is something comforting about that to me. Appealing, even.

A lot of the stories also seem to be set in New York--romantic old New York. Those are the ones that make me wish I could climb thru the TV screen and take my place as a bystander just to experience what it was like to be there. It's a time and place I obviously never had a chance to see. Now at least I can go there for brief glimpses.

Bear in mind, I've only seen a very few classic films, but my favorite actor so far is Jimmy Stewart. Young Jimmy Stewart, before he got into all those Westerns. I'm ashamed to admit that up until a few months ago, I only knew him from It's A Wonderful Life.

My favorite movie has been Wait Until Dark, with Audrey Hepburn. I don't have the vocabulary to adequately describe Hepburn's performance, perfectly conveying both innocent vulnerability and immense courage. Almost the entire movie is set in a single basement apartment, yet a complete, captivating story is told. How brilliant is that.

I apologize if I sound overly excited. After all, it's not as if I've discovered some hidden secret no one else knows about. But for me, it is something new. I know I'm very late to this party, but I'm looking forward to catching up. I'm open to any and all recommendations.

"It's Saturday night at the movies, and those black and white reruns are bringing back old time memories when Hollywood was young..."

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..."