My Sofia turned 3 this month and I'm pleased to report she's mastered every human skill except butt wiping and knock-knock joking.
I had to write some of these exchanges down before I forgot them.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Waste
We threw away one of our movie-going opportunities yesterday on "Paranormal Activity."
Bad choice.
In this day and age, the whole "Blair Witch Project" found footage conceit just doesn't work. It's more of a distraction than anything else. Don't waste your time trying to fool me into believing what's happening on the screen is real.
"The Orphanage" is still the scariest movie I've seen in a long time. I didn't have to think that little boy with a sack on his head was real for it to scare the crap out of me.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
'Drag Me to Hell'
V-Did is in the middle of his annual Frightening Film Fest for V-Did's Video Hits on Sports Radio 1410 (listen live every other Friday around 7:05 a.m.) and would like to pass along this recommendation for the Halloween season: Drag Me to Hell.
It'll make you jump and laugh.
'We Were Once a Fairytale' starring Kanye and a bipedal kitty
I don't care.
I can't help but love Kanye West.
Put him together with Spike Jonze, another brilliant mind, and this is what you get.
Stick with it for all 12 minutes.
I can't help but love Kanye West.
Put him together with Spike Jonze, another brilliant mind, and this is what you get.
Stick with it for all 12 minutes.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Dispatch from the Desktop 2
While the computer is cooperating, let's continue.
I don't like cell phone stores. They creep me out. There's just something about the dudes who work there.
I'm not a fuddy-duddy. I like having a cell phone. It's a great technology and they just keep getting better. I guess what I don't like is how the cell phone companies have successfully tapped in to -- and helped expand exponentially -- our human weakness for the latest, greatest, sleekest, shiniest thing. There's always something new and better and faster, and I'm not ashamed to admit I want it, too. I just don't get it. I end up getting whatever comes free with my contract renewal, which is usually about seven months behind the coolness curve. Way too late.
Then you've got the guys who work at these places. I confess, at my lowest depth of unemployment misery I briefly considered applying for a cell phone job. They're always hiring, but I had a vision of myself wearing a bright, primary color polo shirt, a Blackberry strapped to my khakis, and one of those ridiculous Star Trek blue-tooth ear pieces, so I put down the resume and went back to Regis and the leftover box of wine.
So, in an attempt to put a Band-Aid on our laptop issue, yesterday I went to the big Verizon store to check out those mini-notebooks they're selling for $199. I told myself I would just look at it and not engage any of the salespeople. I know they're hungry. I know they probably hate their jobs. And I know the only thing separating us is a glass of watery chablis in the morning and a nap.
After seeing the little laptop wasn't what I was looking for, I decided I needed to know about Verizon's internet service. I spotted one of the sales guys milling about. The only difference between him and the vision I had of myself was the polo was replaced with a long-sleeved button-down, which I think meant he was a manager.
After seeing the little laptop wasn't what I was looking for, I decided I needed to know about Verizon's internet service. I spotted one of the sales guys milling about. The only difference between him and the vision I had of myself was the polo was replaced with a long-sleeved button-down, which I think meant he was a manager.
Anyway, the point of this whole story is just to share the conversation I had this guy.
"Hi, how ya doing?" I said.
"Hey, are you Randy?" he asked.
"No, I'm not Randy."
"Oh. Are you Rick?"
"No, I'm not Rick."
"Well, who are you?"
"I'm Greg and I have a question."
Dispatch from the Desktop
A defunct power cord/charger has limited our laptop use to "emergency uses" only and exiled me upstairs to the wheezing 7-year-old guestroom desktop. I will not be able to right-click, and it could freeze on me at any moment, so I must get this message to you quickly.
You would think that the constant ridicule from their peers -- growing up, and later, in the news industry -- would have led them to careers that would require them to speak less, or at least not to so many people.
Nope. These pee-po have embwaced their impediments and want the wohd to hear the angewick wolds that spwing fowth from their mowves.
I went to the speech therapist for a couple sessions in elementary school to work on my Rs and Ls. Outside of my immediate family, nobody made fun of me for it, but I think it's one of the reasons I went into writing. I could say a lot, without actually having to say it.
I still have trouble with some words. "Particularly" is still particularly hard for me to say. And since my teeth have retreated to their pre-braces clusters, you never know what's going to come out of my mouth. If it gets any worse, I may have a career in radio ahead of me.
NPR hires a lot of reporters with lisps or other speech impediments. I admire these people for making it to the pinnacle of radio reporting despite the goofy way they talk. That requires some serious fortitude.
It's certainly distinctive. I'll sit in the car and hang on every word government reporter Peter Overby says. The other week, in a story on the natural gas industry's lobbying shortcomings, he had a particularly (sounds so much better written down) tough phrase to handle, but he rocked it like a champ. I've had it stuck in my head ever since:
"There's a coal caucus in congress."
Say that a bunch of times fast.
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