I set a new personal record last night, by drinking milk four days past the date on the carton. That broke my previous all-time personal best of three days, achieved on numerous occasions, most recently the day before yesterday.
Why did I do this?
Why not? Isn't that what life is about? Setting goals for oneself and having the courage to go after them. Consider me the Michael Phelps of lactose. (But really, I just had some Double Stuff Oreos and didn't feel like getting dressed and going to the store to buy fresh milk at the almost-witching hour of 9 PM.)
In other news, I think my fall social season is winding down at last. I've really been making the toddler birthday party scene this year. In the past couple of months, I have attended no less than three parties for one-year-olds.
At the most recent cake and diaper mixer, I ran into fave cousin, which isn't a huge surprise as it was his daughter who was turning one. Anyway, he asked if I had been working out. I thought he was kidding, so I gave him the you're-kidding-right snicker, but he responded with a no-I'm-serious-you're-huge look, then he mentioned something about my arms looking bigger. This would make a much better story if he was a girl. And also not my cousin.
But that's how things go sometimes. I believe the Beastie Boys may have articulated it best when they said, "Lookin' for a girl, I ran into a guy."
Life hasn't been all fun and LeapFrog games, however. Sometimes there are lulls. Some days I put on my pajama pants as soon as I get home from work with no intention of even so much as opening the front door until the next morning, then I stay up 'til 2:30 AM because TruTV decides to show six Forensics Files in a row and what am I supposed to do, not watch?
Some days life is about as exciting as a scoliosis screening.
And that's OK, because if there is one thing I have learned in all my misadventures, it is that you do not want a scoliosis screening to become exciting.
"The secret of life is gettin' up early. The secret of life is stayin' up late. The secret of life is try not to hurry, but don't wait, don't wait..."
Showing posts with label television. Show all posts
Showing posts with label television. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Tuesday, June 09, 2009
Saved By The Bell: The Reunion
Apparently, I watch more late night TV than I think. While flipping channels last night, I stopped on Jimmy Fallon as he was just about to bring out a guest. Then I sat there in near disbelief when who should appear from behind the curtain but none other than one, Zack Morris! Well, the actor Mark-Paul Gosselaar, yes. But he was decked out in full Zack Morris regalia!
I sat there with my eyes glued to the television, no doubt grinning like that guy in the Viagra commercial, as Fallon and Zack reminisced about Saved By The Bell. They referenced everything from The Maxx to the Zack Attack to Stansbury, the Harvard of the West. At one point, Fallon even referred to Morris as "Preppy."
Well, here, just watch. If you're a Saved By The Bell fan, you'll think you've died and gone to Bayside.
That may be in the running for the best nine minutes of my life. No, really. I'm trying to think of what else it would be and nothing is coming to mind. And here's the best news of all (in case you didn't watch the video): Fallon is trying to get a Saved By The Bell reunion together!
With all this SBTB talk, I decided to dig up my Where Are They Now: Saved By The Bell post. At that time, I had been inspired by the Dustin Diamond sex tape. Hmm, that doesn't sound right. Anyway, here it is, originally posted in 2006 and only slightly edited. (We should be able to tell a lot about Bone's maturity level now versus then.)
-----------------------------
Where Are They Now: Saved By The Bell
With the revelation of the Dustin Diamond/Screech Powers sex tape (Really, did you ever think you'd see those in the same sentence? Download it now for $4.99!), I decided it was time to catch up with the cast of Saved By The Bell. Think of this as sort of like VH1's Behind The Music, but with less crying. Some crying. Just less.
As with any popular television show, no doubt some of the cast have had issues with shedding their SBTB images and being typecast. Diamond, who played the dorky Screech Powers, and Dennis Haskins, who played Principal Richard Belding, didn't help their cases by carrying on their roles for another seven years on Saved By The Bell: The New Class.
Elizabeth Berkley, who played the super studious, sometimes pill-popping Jessie Spano on Saved By The Bell, had perhaps the most infamous role of any of the cast members. Two years after Saved went off the air, perhaps trying to shed her Saturday morning teen show image, she flashed her headlights in the movie Showgirls. Which I always get confused with Striptease. Which is quite odd considering I've never seen either movie. Hmm, suddenly I got a hankerin' for some fried eggs.
Mark-Paul Gosselaar, who played the popular, scheming Zack Morris, has had arguably the most successful career post-SBTB. He continued his role as Zack Morris on Saved By The Bell:The College Years, which aired in prime time but lasted only eighteen episodes, despite the fact that I watched every single week.
Gosselaar's most famous role after Saved was on NYPD Blue, which he was on from 2001 until the series ended in 2005. Although it's never been confirmed, rumor has it that NYPD Blue ended because Gosselaar called time-out during one episode--as he was known to do on Saved By The Bell-- freezing the entire cast, but forgot to call time-in. That would mean that somewhere Dennis Franz may still be frozen in some sort of oddly contorted mannequin-type pose. Which wouldn't be an entirely bad thing.
The career of Mario Lopez, who played A.C. Slater on SBTB, could perhaps be best described by the phrase quantity does not equal quality. Lopez' credits include a guest role on the daytime soap Bold And The Beautiful, as well as hosting duties for Will You Marry Me, America's Most Talented Kid, and ESPN Hollywood. Yeah, I've scarcely heard of them myself.
Many thought Lopez' big break had come when he played the title role in the 1997 made for TV movie Breaking The Surface: The Greg Louganis Story. But it was not to be. He also bared his buttocks on an episode of Nip/Tuck a few years ago. (How is it I have only ever seen one episode of Nip/Tuck, EVER, and this is the episode I see? My only thought was "Eww, that's Slater's @$$!! Make it stop!!")
Tiffani-Amber Thiessen, who played innocent cheerleader Kelly Kapowski on SBTB, was the first of the cast to land a major role post-SBTB. And she probably did the best job of shedding her Saved By The Bell stereotype. Thiessen played duplicitous vixen Valerie Malone on my other favorite show, Fox's Beverly Hills 90210, from 1994-1998. However, she has since been relegated to such box office smashes as Shriek If You Know What I Did Last Friday the Thirteenth. Uh, yeah.
Lark Voorhies, who played fashion-obsessed Lisa Turtle on SBTB, has had guest roles on Deep Space Nine, as well as daytime soaps Days Of Our Livesand Bold And The Beautiful. (Evidently, there is some weird SBTB/Bold And The Beautiful pipeline.) LVoor (her hip-hop name) reportedly quit the soaps because she refused to do sex scenes. Dustin Diamond, on the other hand, obviously has no problem with those.
So we are left with nothing but memories of Bayside. Good memories, like Kelly getting a humongous zit on her nose right before Homecoming, Jessie nearly OD'ing on caffeine pills, Zack telling everyone Slater is dying and needs to move to Hawaii, the Bayside radio station and Save the Maxx telethon, and of course, Zack's ginormous cell phone. But memories, nonetheless.
And I'm left trying to get the image of Slater's smooth, well-rounded buttocks out of my mind.
In the immortal words of Jessie Spano, after Zack caught her taking pills, "I'm so... scared!"
"By the time I grab my books and I give myself a look, I'm at the corner just in time to see the bus fly by..."
I sat there with my eyes glued to the television, no doubt grinning like that guy in the Viagra commercial, as Fallon and Zack reminisced about Saved By The Bell. They referenced everything from The Maxx to the Zack Attack to Stansbury, the Harvard of the West. At one point, Fallon even referred to Morris as "Preppy."
Well, here, just watch. If you're a Saved By The Bell fan, you'll think you've died and gone to Bayside.
That may be in the running for the best nine minutes of my life. No, really. I'm trying to think of what else it would be and nothing is coming to mind. And here's the best news of all (in case you didn't watch the video): Fallon is trying to get a Saved By The Bell reunion together!
With all this SBTB talk, I decided to dig up my Where Are They Now: Saved By The Bell post. At that time, I had been inspired by the Dustin Diamond sex tape. Hmm, that doesn't sound right. Anyway, here it is, originally posted in 2006 and only slightly edited. (We should be able to tell a lot about Bone's maturity level now versus then.)
-----------------------------
Where Are They Now: Saved By The Bell
With the revelation of the Dustin Diamond/Screech Powers sex tape (Really, did you ever think you'd see those in the same sentence? Download it now for $4.99!), I decided it was time to catch up with the cast of Saved By The Bell. Think of this as sort of like VH1's Behind The Music, but with less crying. Some crying. Just less.
As with any popular television show, no doubt some of the cast have had issues with shedding their SBTB images and being typecast. Diamond, who played the dorky Screech Powers, and Dennis Haskins, who played Principal Richard Belding, didn't help their cases by carrying on their roles for another seven years on Saved By The Bell: The New Class.
Elizabeth Berkley, who played the super studious, sometimes pill-popping Jessie Spano on Saved By The Bell, had perhaps the most infamous role of any of the cast members. Two years after Saved went off the air, perhaps trying to shed her Saturday morning teen show image, she flashed her headlights in the movie Showgirls. Which I always get confused with Striptease. Which is quite odd considering I've never seen either movie. Hmm, suddenly I got a hankerin' for some fried eggs.
Mark-Paul Gosselaar, who played the popular, scheming Zack Morris, has had arguably the most successful career post-SBTB. He continued his role as Zack Morris on Saved By The Bell:The College Years, which aired in prime time but lasted only eighteen episodes, despite the fact that I watched every single week.
Gosselaar's most famous role after Saved was on NYPD Blue, which he was on from 2001 until the series ended in 2005. Although it's never been confirmed, rumor has it that NYPD Blue ended because Gosselaar called time-out during one episode--as he was known to do on Saved By The Bell-- freezing the entire cast, but forgot to call time-in. That would mean that somewhere Dennis Franz may still be frozen in some sort of oddly contorted mannequin-type pose. Which wouldn't be an entirely bad thing.
The career of Mario Lopez, who played A.C. Slater on SBTB, could perhaps be best described by the phrase quantity does not equal quality. Lopez' credits include a guest role on the daytime soap Bold And The Beautiful, as well as hosting duties for Will You Marry Me, America's Most Talented Kid, and ESPN Hollywood. Yeah, I've scarcely heard of them myself.
Many thought Lopez' big break had come when he played the title role in the 1997 made for TV movie Breaking The Surface: The Greg Louganis Story. But it was not to be. He also bared his buttocks on an episode of Nip/Tuck a few years ago. (How is it I have only ever seen one episode of Nip/Tuck, EVER, and this is the episode I see? My only thought was "Eww, that's Slater's @$$!! Make it stop!!")
Tiffani-Amber Thiessen, who played innocent cheerleader Kelly Kapowski on SBTB, was the first of the cast to land a major role post-SBTB. And she probably did the best job of shedding her Saved By The Bell stereotype. Thiessen played duplicitous vixen Valerie Malone on my other favorite show, Fox's Beverly Hills 90210, from 1994-1998. However, she has since been relegated to such box office smashes as Shriek If You Know What I Did Last Friday the Thirteenth. Uh, yeah.
Lark Voorhies, who played fashion-obsessed Lisa Turtle on SBTB, has had guest roles on Deep Space Nine, as well as daytime soaps Days Of Our Livesand Bold And The Beautiful. (Evidently, there is some weird SBTB/Bold And The Beautiful pipeline.) LVoor (her hip-hop name) reportedly quit the soaps because she refused to do sex scenes. Dustin Diamond, on the other hand, obviously has no problem with those.
So we are left with nothing but memories of Bayside. Good memories, like Kelly getting a humongous zit on her nose right before Homecoming, Jessie nearly OD'ing on caffeine pills, Zack telling everyone Slater is dying and needs to move to Hawaii, the Bayside radio station and Save the Maxx telethon, and of course, Zack's ginormous cell phone. But memories, nonetheless.
And I'm left trying to get the image of Slater's smooth, well-rounded buttocks out of my mind.
In the immortal words of Jessie Spano, after Zack caught her taking pills, "I'm so... scared!"
"By the time I grab my books and I give myself a look, I'm at the corner just in time to see the bus fly by..."
Saturday, June 06, 2009
Late night thoughts
This week was an historic one for television here in the States. (That last phrase is a nod to my readers in India, the United Kingdom, and parts unknown.) Allow me to be among the last to share my thoughts on the Tonight Show changeover.
Leno or Letterman. For years, the question has been as essential to any get-to-know-me email questionnaire or Facebook quiz as Coke or Pepsi, paper or plastic, Lauren or Audrina. But like my dad said about my weekly allowance when I turned 35, those days are over, son.
I should preface this by saying that I've always been a Letterman guy. I never watched Leno much, unless someone I wanted to see was on. Unlike my Mom, who always seemed to be able to see every second of both shows even though they're on at exactly the same time. She does the same thing with Good Morning America and that show with Matt Lauer.
Ironically, when Leno announced he would be stepping down--like eight years ago--it caused me to start watching Letterman more often, because I suddenly realized he wouldn't be around forever, either.
Leno's last Tonight Show is one of those events that gives tangible evidence of the passing of time. The end of something that spanned several years of our lifetimes. It's the kind of event you want to experience being surrounded by those who mean the most to you. So naturally, I watched it with the Darryls.
The Jay Walking flashbacks were hilarious and the end was cool. But the entire segment with Conan, I didn't find funny at all. None of us did. We were sitting there waiting to laugh, wanting to laugh, but unable to. It's kinda like that dream where you try to scream but can't.
And I'd like to think that our collective sense of humor encompasses a broad spectrum of comedy, ranging from incredibly childish to somewhat immature. LJ enjoys Wipeout and Chelsea Lately. Wolfgang is a fan of "that's what she said" and jokes found on keychains. While I laugh at The Office, Dumb & Dumber, and people with jet wings on their vehicles.
I missed Conan's first Tonight Show as I was on my way back from Nashville, but I did catch him Tuesday night. Again, I wasn't overly impressed. I'm sure he'll become more comfortable in time, but I'm already back to watching Letterman.
That's the great thing about television. If nothing good is on one channel, you can spend several minutes surfing through tens or hundreds of other channels. Chances are, you'll find nothing on them, either. But at least you've killed a few minutes looking.
It's not exactly going out on a limb to say Conan will probably never become an icon like Carson, or even Letterman. I imagine he'll probably wind up falling somewhere between Arsenio and Chevy Chase in the pages of late night history. Just think if Arsenio was still around, the dog pound last Friday night could have been People Who Couldn't Get In To Leno's Last Tonight Show. *sniff* (OK, it's been fifteen years, Bone. Let it go.)
Earlier this week, I was watching that Alex Trebek show and they had a Conan O'Brien category. On nearly all the questions, the contestants just stood there, mouths agape, not buzzing in. I felt bad for him. Conan, not Alex.
Then I thought, maybe really smart people just go to bed early. Which would help explain why I'm up to 1 AM most weeknights.
"I stay up with the late late show. It's just another way I know, to get through one night a day..."
Leno or Letterman. For years, the question has been as essential to any get-to-know-me email questionnaire or Facebook quiz as Coke or Pepsi, paper or plastic, Lauren or Audrina. But like my dad said about my weekly allowance when I turned 35, those days are over, son.
I should preface this by saying that I've always been a Letterman guy. I never watched Leno much, unless someone I wanted to see was on. Unlike my Mom, who always seemed to be able to see every second of both shows even though they're on at exactly the same time. She does the same thing with Good Morning America and that show with Matt Lauer.
Ironically, when Leno announced he would be stepping down--like eight years ago--it caused me to start watching Letterman more often, because I suddenly realized he wouldn't be around forever, either.
Leno's last Tonight Show is one of those events that gives tangible evidence of the passing of time. The end of something that spanned several years of our lifetimes. It's the kind of event you want to experience being surrounded by those who mean the most to you. So naturally, I watched it with the Darryls.
The Jay Walking flashbacks were hilarious and the end was cool. But the entire segment with Conan, I didn't find funny at all. None of us did. We were sitting there waiting to laugh, wanting to laugh, but unable to. It's kinda like that dream where you try to scream but can't.
And I'd like to think that our collective sense of humor encompasses a broad spectrum of comedy, ranging from incredibly childish to somewhat immature. LJ enjoys Wipeout and Chelsea Lately. Wolfgang is a fan of "that's what she said" and jokes found on keychains. While I laugh at The Office, Dumb & Dumber, and people with jet wings on their vehicles.
I missed Conan's first Tonight Show as I was on my way back from Nashville, but I did catch him Tuesday night. Again, I wasn't overly impressed. I'm sure he'll become more comfortable in time, but I'm already back to watching Letterman.
That's the great thing about television. If nothing good is on one channel, you can spend several minutes surfing through tens or hundreds of other channels. Chances are, you'll find nothing on them, either. But at least you've killed a few minutes looking.
It's not exactly going out on a limb to say Conan will probably never become an icon like Carson, or even Letterman. I imagine he'll probably wind up falling somewhere between Arsenio and Chevy Chase in the pages of late night history. Just think if Arsenio was still around, the dog pound last Friday night could have been People Who Couldn't Get In To Leno's Last Tonight Show. *sniff* (OK, it's been fifteen years, Bone. Let it go.)
Earlier this week, I was watching that Alex Trebek show and they had a Conan O'Brien category. On nearly all the questions, the contestants just stood there, mouths agape, not buzzing in. I felt bad for him. Conan, not Alex.
Then I thought, maybe really smart people just go to bed early. Which would help explain why I'm up to 1 AM most weeknights.
"I stay up with the late late show. It's just another way I know, to get through one night a day..."
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Bone snores on
Hello, you've reached Bone's blog. Bone is unable to blog right now because, well, it's January. You know the drill.
BEEP!
I tried to ward off the Januarys this year. I really did. The trip to New Orleans helped, for a few days. But alas, the Januarys have returned, as they invariably do.
Jan. You. Wary.
It gets dark too early for me to golf. College football is over. The Hills is over. And I didn't get a New Year's kiss for the second year in a row. But mostly, The Hills is over.
Plus, it's freaking cold. I don't want to get out of bed in the morning. And all I want to do after work is come home and crawl under the covers where it's warm. I have, however, been running most any day that the temperature gets above forty. That's because I somehow managed to gain eight pounds over the holidays. And I would like to maintain my 33 waist so that I don't have to start buying 34's, rubbing off the 34 and writing in 33.
A typical January day for me goes something like this: Work. Come home. Put on pajama pants. Crawl into bed or lie on the couch and watch TV or a DVD. Go running. Shower. Fix supper. Crawl back into bed or lie on the couch and watch TV or a DVD.
How is that different from my routine the rest of the year? Well I'm glad you asked. My typical non-January day goes something like this: (And to make it easier for you, I've bolded any significant differences.) Work. Come home. Lounge in boxer shorts. Get on the computer. Go running. Shower. Fix supper. Get back on the computer.
So as you can see, it's quite different. I have a very full life. It's very full. Last night alone, I watched four episodes of The Office. I also used my iTunes gift card to purchase the timeless classic "Push It" by Salt-n-Pepa. I know, I couldn't believe I didn't already have it either!
The return of 24 has helped a little to ease the discontent of my winter. Jack Bauer is back. And having Tony Almeida return from being presumed dead was an unexpected bonus this season. I kinda miss doing my 24 recaps. I thought of so many hilarious (to me) asides while watching this week. Maybe I'll start live blogging it. Then again, that's kinda tough to do without a laptop, and without leaving the couch.
But don't cry for me. For January is but February's eve. And February brings Groundhog Day, my birthday and of course, Valentine's Day. No, I don't like Valentine's Day but it's something to blog about at least. Besides, not having a date on New Year's Eve is kind of a bummer. Not having a date on Valentine's Day is almost a relief.
Sure, February is still cold, but it's short. It's only like twenty days or something. After that is March (you know, in case you forgot the order of the months). And from there, it shant be long until I have warmth, I have fun, I have seasons in the sun.
For now, January doth toil on. I think it's safe to say that I would hibernate the entire month of January, if I were a bear. Also if I didn't have to pee every three to eight hours.
"All the leaves are brown and the sky is gray. I've been for a walk on a winter's day. I'd be safe and warm, if I was in L.A."
BEEP!
I tried to ward off the Januarys this year. I really did. The trip to New Orleans helped, for a few days. But alas, the Januarys have returned, as they invariably do.
Jan. You. Wary.
It gets dark too early for me to golf. College football is over. The Hills is over. And I didn't get a New Year's kiss for the second year in a row. But mostly, The Hills is over.
Plus, it's freaking cold. I don't want to get out of bed in the morning. And all I want to do after work is come home and crawl under the covers where it's warm. I have, however, been running most any day that the temperature gets above forty. That's because I somehow managed to gain eight pounds over the holidays. And I would like to maintain my 33 waist so that I don't have to start buying 34's, rubbing off the 34 and writing in 33.
A typical January day for me goes something like this: Work. Come home. Put on pajama pants. Crawl into bed or lie on the couch and watch TV or a DVD. Go running. Shower. Fix supper. Crawl back into bed or lie on the couch and watch TV or a DVD.
How is that different from my routine the rest of the year? Well I'm glad you asked. My typical non-January day goes something like this: (And to make it easier for you, I've bolded any significant differences.) Work. Come home. Lounge in boxer shorts. Get on the computer. Go running. Shower. Fix supper. Get back on the computer.
So as you can see, it's quite different. I have a very full life. It's very full. Last night alone, I watched four episodes of The Office. I also used my iTunes gift card to purchase the timeless classic "Push It" by Salt-n-Pepa. I know, I couldn't believe I didn't already have it either!
The return of 24 has helped a little to ease the discontent of my winter. Jack Bauer is back. And having Tony Almeida return from being presumed dead was an unexpected bonus this season. I kinda miss doing my 24 recaps. I thought of so many hilarious (to me) asides while watching this week. Maybe I'll start live blogging it. Then again, that's kinda tough to do without a laptop, and without leaving the couch.
But don't cry for me. For January is but February's eve. And February brings Groundhog Day, my birthday and of course, Valentine's Day. No, I don't like Valentine's Day but it's something to blog about at least. Besides, not having a date on New Year's Eve is kind of a bummer. Not having a date on Valentine's Day is almost a relief.
Sure, February is still cold, but it's short. It's only like twenty days or something. After that is March (you know, in case you forgot the order of the months). And from there, it shant be long until I have warmth, I have fun, I have seasons in the sun.
For now, January doth toil on. I think it's safe to say that I would hibernate the entire month of January, if I were a bear. Also if I didn't have to pee every three to eight hours.
"All the leaves are brown and the sky is gray. I've been for a walk on a winter's day. I'd be safe and warm, if I was in L.A."
Sunday, July 13, 2008
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..."
(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..."
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
Mystery of the frozen scene
While flipping channels Friday, I came across the following scene from Seinfeld on cable channel 8:
There was no movement. No audio. It was just frozen there on my television, as you see it here. A scene where Jerry and George appear to be talking.
I looked around. Was I the only one who could see this? Was Larry David trying to send me a signal? Was my TV set even on? Was this my second bowl of Apple Jacks, or third? Maybe, just maybe, this was my "if you build it, they will come" moment that I had waited on for ten years since the series finale.
After about ten or forty-five minutes, it became apparent they weren't going to play the rest of the episode, so I changed channels. The event gradually and quietly slipped into the dark recesses of my brain. Until the next day.
I don't know if it was divine intervention or the kinship of all living things, but something told me to check channel 8 again on Saturday. So I did. And I found the exact same scene. Still there. Still frozen. Like a hidden treasure waiting for me to kiss it and turn it into a beautiful princess.
By that time, I was certain this was no random occurrence. Someone was trying to tell me something. But what? And then it hit me. If I could somehow figure out which episode the frozen scene was from, I would thereby solve the mystery of the riddle and surely know what Larry was trying to tell me.
I began to analyze the scene. It appeared fairly generic, but I noticed a couple of things. They weren't in Jerry's apartment. They appeared to be in some sort of office. Also, George was older, so I was thinking Season 8 or 9. Within about fifteen seconds, I had my guess: The Bizarro Jerry.
The only thing left to do now was to check to see if I was right. Well, that and take a picture of the TV screen for blog purposes. Since I don't yet have Seasons 8 or 9 on DVD (hint hint), I had to dig thru my library of Seinfeld VHS tapes. This task was made slightly more difficult by the fact that before I knew the names of each episode--or that the episodes even had names--I would label the tapes with my own descriptions.
For example, instead of The Fire, I wrote "Jerry heckles a heckler." Instead of The Pie, I had "A mannequin looks like Elaine." Instead of The Rye, I put "Accidentally recorded Caroline In The City." Anyway, you get my drift. I finally found the episode I was looking for and fast forwarded to the scene. Booyah! I was right!
I'm still not really sure what this all means, other than I know a really really lot about Seinfeld. It's either very exciting or very very sad. Since this is my blog, we're gonna go with exciting. Surely there must be a need somewhere for my uncommon ability, a place at Larry David Enterprises for me.
I turned back to channel 8 later in the day Saturday, and they had resumed regular programming. Of course they had. But not before and until I had solved the mystery of the frozen scene.
It's all in a day's work. My name is Bone. This is what I do.
"Now for ten years we've been on our own. And moss grows fat on a rollin' stone. But that's not how it used to be..."
There was no movement. No audio. It was just frozen there on my television, as you see it here. A scene where Jerry and George appear to be talking.
I looked around. Was I the only one who could see this? Was Larry David trying to send me a signal? Was my TV set even on? Was this my second bowl of Apple Jacks, or third? Maybe, just maybe, this was my "if you build it, they will come" moment that I had waited on for ten years since the series finale.
After about ten or forty-five minutes, it became apparent they weren't going to play the rest of the episode, so I changed channels. The event gradually and quietly slipped into the dark recesses of my brain. Until the next day.
I don't know if it was divine intervention or the kinship of all living things, but something told me to check channel 8 again on Saturday. So I did. And I found the exact same scene. Still there. Still frozen. Like a hidden treasure waiting for me to kiss it and turn it into a beautiful princess.
By that time, I was certain this was no random occurrence. Someone was trying to tell me something. But what? And then it hit me. If I could somehow figure out which episode the frozen scene was from, I would thereby solve the mystery of the riddle and surely know what Larry was trying to tell me.
I began to analyze the scene. It appeared fairly generic, but I noticed a couple of things. They weren't in Jerry's apartment. They appeared to be in some sort of office. Also, George was older, so I was thinking Season 8 or 9. Within about fifteen seconds, I had my guess: The Bizarro Jerry.
The only thing left to do now was to check to see if I was right. Well, that and take a picture of the TV screen for blog purposes. Since I don't yet have Seasons 8 or 9 on DVD (hint hint), I had to dig thru my library of Seinfeld VHS tapes. This task was made slightly more difficult by the fact that before I knew the names of each episode--or that the episodes even had names--I would label the tapes with my own descriptions.
For example, instead of The Fire, I wrote "Jerry heckles a heckler." Instead of The Pie, I had "A mannequin looks like Elaine." Instead of The Rye, I put "Accidentally recorded Caroline In The City." Anyway, you get my drift. I finally found the episode I was looking for and fast forwarded to the scene. Booyah! I was right!
I'm still not really sure what this all means, other than I know a really really lot about Seinfeld. It's either very exciting or very very sad. Since this is my blog, we're gonna go with exciting. Surely there must be a need somewhere for my uncommon ability, a place at Larry David Enterprises for me.
I turned back to channel 8 later in the day Saturday, and they had resumed regular programming. Of course they had. But not before and until I had solved the mystery of the frozen scene.
It's all in a day's work. My name is Bone. This is what I do.
"Now for ten years we've been on our own. And moss grows fat on a rollin' stone. But that's not how it used to be..."
Friday, July 04, 2008
Takeru, Joey, & Me
I watched the annual Nathan's Famous Hot Dog Eating Contest on ESPN today. It has become as much a 4th of July tradition around the Bone household as grilled burgers and shooting bottle rockets out of your bare hand. Because really, few things are as American as forcing fifty-nine hot dogs down your esophagus in ten minutes or having second degree burns from putting on your own fireworks show.
Congratulations to this year's winner, Joey "The Clay Aiken Of Bacon" Chestnut. He defeated the legendary Kobayashi in a five dog eat-off to claim the title for the second consecutive year. And this has inspired me to share with you a tale of my own recent athletic prowess.
Last Saturday, in the immortal words of Flock Of Seagulls, I ran. I participated in a five mile race, finishing with a time of 39:10, which was OK. I've only been running about once a week since my 10K in May, so I was satisfied with a sub eight minute pace.
More importantly, I set a new personal record for the most races I've run in a single year, with two. This not only surpasses, but doubles my previous all-time high, of one.
But the most impressive thing about last weekend was that I actually got out of bed at 5:45 on a Saturday morning to go and run five miles. My bed was beckoning me, my body was crying out in protest, and my fish was swimming around as if to say, "What in the world are we doing up at this hour? But as long as we're up, feed me."
This brings up an interesting question: What possesses the runner to do such things? What inspires the runner to run? Some might say it's the sense of accomplishment and personal fulfillment one feels when one crosses the finish line. I say, poppycock!
It's all about the free cookies, bananas, watermelon, Gatorade, soft drinks and other refreshments provided after the race. Oh, and the free t-shirt. Not to mention the blog material it provides. That's why I run.
Still, I'm sure others would say it's the opportunity to wear super sexy, super short running shorts without being subjected to (much) public ridicule, banished from society, or thrown in prison. To wit:
Happy 4th of July, all! Have a hot dog, or fifty-nine. And here's hoping no one has a "reversal of fortune."
"The cloud is moving nearer still. Aurora borealis comes in view. Aurora comes in view. And I ran. I ran so far away. I just ran. I ran all night and day..."
Congratulations to this year's winner, Joey "The Clay Aiken Of Bacon" Chestnut. He defeated the legendary Kobayashi in a five dog eat-off to claim the title for the second consecutive year. And this has inspired me to share with you a tale of my own recent athletic prowess.
Last Saturday, in the immortal words of Flock Of Seagulls, I ran. I participated in a five mile race, finishing with a time of 39:10, which was OK. I've only been running about once a week since my 10K in May, so I was satisfied with a sub eight minute pace.
More importantly, I set a new personal record for the most races I've run in a single year, with two. This not only surpasses, but doubles my previous all-time high, of one.
But the most impressive thing about last weekend was that I actually got out of bed at 5:45 on a Saturday morning to go and run five miles. My bed was beckoning me, my body was crying out in protest, and my fish was swimming around as if to say, "What in the world are we doing up at this hour? But as long as we're up, feed me."
This brings up an interesting question: What possesses the runner to do such things? What inspires the runner to run? Some might say it's the sense of accomplishment and personal fulfillment one feels when one crosses the finish line. I say, poppycock!
It's all about the free cookies, bananas, watermelon, Gatorade, soft drinks and other refreshments provided after the race. Oh, and the free t-shirt. Not to mention the blog material it provides. That's why I run.
Still, I'm sure others would say it's the opportunity to wear super sexy, super short running shorts without being subjected to (much) public ridicule, banished from society, or thrown in prison. To wit:
Happy 4th of July, all! Have a hot dog, or fifty-nine. And here's hoping no one has a "reversal of fortune."
"The cloud is moving nearer still. Aurora borealis comes in view. Aurora comes in view. And I ran. I ran so far away. I just ran. I ran all night and day..."
Sunday, December 02, 2007
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..."
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..."
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