FlamingSheep
I have come to the realization that middle aged women love me, and want me to date their daughters. Which is great because ever since the "Gilmore Girls", I have been meaning to cross the mother-daughter threesome off my "To Do list".
I just finished watching Simon Pegg's "How to Lose Friends and Alienate People." I loved it. It has just the right amount of sap, without losing that British edge. I imagine that this is what Ricky Gervais was trying to get at with "Ghost Town," but didn't quite achieve. Yea, that's right Al. I said it.
On a related note: Megan Fox. What an overrated piece of trash*.
Now, on to some links:
Rock Band jackassery at its best.
Apparently, this commercial is advertising all the extra stuff you can see with a new 21:9 LCD TV. This may be counterproductive, as I consider the inability to see creepy clowns as a positive.
The slow jerk. Horrifying and beautiful at the same time.
*Just kidding, I have a penis. Megan Fox is smoking hot.
Choking Yak
Yes, everyone's talking about the acoustic cover of Hey Ya and blah blah blah...but what about this spoken word "cover" of Stay? I don't know exactly what it is, but I just can't help finding never ending delight in it right now. Just the cut at the end with the song and the credits...absolutely wrecks me.
This prompts me to modify our original idea of filming a cold reading of the A Few Good Men script. How about instead of that...we transcribe it to song?
I want our best men on this, working 'round the clock!
Good Lord, it is beautiful outside. I took a brief walk around the block today at lunch, unnerved at how gloriously blue the sky was...it's so nice today that it made me drool - I was salivating at the thought of metaphysically devouring the very weather itself. Blinded by the radiant sunshine, I grew ignorant to the actual physical limitations of human feeding. And it's juuust windy and cold enough to remind you that we're just coming out of winter as well, gives the day that extra little punch that distinguishes it from just any other regular July afternoon. It places the day in context, and it becomes even sweeter in turn when compared to the cold and dreary winter days that preceded...it has been given texture.
Sleeves rolled up, jacket back in the office, sunshine upon my face...I wished for nothing else than to feel the snap of a softball coming off my bat in a perfect frozen rope line drive to right field.
I watched Roy Halladay strike out the side with two on in the 6th inning last night, foiling Casilla's weak attempt to bunt, Morneau with an absolutely filthy low curve -> high heat combo, and then Jason Kubel swinging on three straight inside cutters. I have never loved another Toronto sports figure as much as I love Roy Halladay right now. The exchange between Jamie Campbell and Pat Tabler was enjoyable as well, after Doc had already gotten Kubel to chase two straight pitches.
Jamie Campbell: You think he's going to go outside this time?
Pat Tabler: No, I wouldn't even waste a - *BOOM, STRIKEOUT CITY*
The Jays have the best record in the American League right now...I'm enjoying it as much as I can while I'm still able.
I'm not going to lie...April has been a pretty good month for me so far.
Y'all don't want me here you just wanna dance
MaxSnax
So I don't know if anyone watched Scrubs from last night but at the end of the episode there was a great acoustic cover of "Hey Ya" by Ted. So I did some research and it turns out there is an "official" acoustic cover already famous on the internet by a band called "Obadiah Parker". Check it out bitches.
Big Al
Hail The Conquering Hero
Africa - Toto
Power Ranger actor gets the death penalty. Before you head to Wikipedia to figure out which Ranger was played by Skylar Deleon, I'll save you the trouble. He was an extra on an episode. So yes, this headline is bullshit. The real question is: Which Ranger popped into your head when you saw the link? I thought of Tommy, for some reason. But I bet the rest of you picked the Black Ranger.
*****
I saw my brother off at the airport yesterday. He'd been in town for the last couple of weeks or so and we spent a lot of time together. It was honestly like he'd never left. I asked him no questions about his life in Japan and he didn't inquire about my business back home. As soon as we picked him up, we fell into our old routine.
What was Rorschach doing with that coat hanger at the beginning of Watchmen?
Have you seen Street Fighter: The Legend Of Chun-Li yet? Man, you've got to see it!
So I was watching A Few Good Men yesterday...
His reason for coming back was that he was taking a vacation from work, which I found amusing because I thought that the reason he left in the first place was to get away from Markham. Truth be told, it wasn't that much of a vacation for him because everyday a relative or a friend would call or come around looking to take him out somewhere. My mother told him that we're lucky to know people who take the time to see us, spend time with us, make us feel wanted. For once, we all agree on something.
Last Thursday, Derek offered to show him this delicious steakhouse and I decided to tag along. It was amazing watching my brother interact with Derek's friends. From what I recall, he's met them less than a dozen times, but they hang on every word he says. Nobody notices, but I hardly crack a smile. It's not that I don't find my brother funny (in fact, I think he's one of the funniest people I know), but I always find myself playing the role of the impartial observer in these situations. So as my brother goes on about various Japanese fetish customs, I watch the people at the table having a laugh and I admire my brother's fearlessness.
That same night, we finally manage to get a game of "Marvel Scene It!" going. My brother and I both win one game. The Brothers Lee, taking over the world one comics-related trivia question at a time.
My brother and I enjoy doing a lot of things together and yet we value and respect each other's privacy so deeply. A lot of his time here was spent with the two of us nestled comfortably in our respective rooms. You would think that we would plan out some sort of family excursion to any number of Toronto exhibits, but that is just not how we do things. I stay in my room, he stays in his, occasionally we will collide on the neutral ground that is the living room and watch a DVD. Bursting into one another's rooms at two in the morning to discuss Marvel's Dark Reign storyline is also likely. This is how we communicate and how we get along so well. This is how we live.
Mom thinks my brother has matured and I agree though the change hasn't seemed as dramatic in my eyes. Chris has always been the more independent of the two of us, the more likely to break away. The implication is that living in Japan has caused him to grow up, but I can tell you that he'd already been doing a lot of growing before he ever decided to teach overseas. I've always gone to him with my random questions and even though we haven't always agreed on the answers, it is a luxury to have someone to discuss pop culture minutiae with whenever I want. My parents are having difficulty letting go of their baby boy, but he's already got two feet out the door. They just don't know it yet.
Chris will be back in about six months, which gives me plenty of time to ponder the great questions of life on my own:
Is Heat the greatest movie ever? Which professional wrestler is most likely to be found dead in a hotel room next? Why do we never see Dwayne Johnson with any women? Is he gay? Why is every issue of Daredevil the same now? Have you seen Solaris yet? How did Cuba Gooding Jr. win the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor? Do you realize he beat Ed Norton that year? What?!?
You know, my brother used to be part of the air cadets and to this day he curses that experience. For one reason or another, he couldn't get ahead in the organization and I remember how upset he was at the time. I only wish I'd had the words...
Harold.
Sir.
You don't need to wear a badge on your arm to have honor.
Ten-hut! There's an officer on deck.
Choking Yak
It is April 4th, 2009. I am in Montreal. I am 24 years old.
The photograph lies in the sand at my feet.
Fragments are slowly coming back to me, snapshots of the past.
All we ever see of stars are their old photographs.
It is 2:00 AM, April 4th, 2009. Pat and I are driving back from Brampton after blowing the last game of our indoor softball season. It's a long drive back from Brampton in any scenario, but after being part of a horrendous '07 Mets-like collapse that saw us fall from 1st place to 4th in the span of only three games makes it seem to take just a little bit longer than usual. We both pledge to win a championship in our upcoming coed summer league for Caesar.
It is late February. AL, Jess, and I are all invited to a weekend in Montreal to celebrate some birthdays. They both eventually drop out, forcing me to pick up the slack and work twice as hard to cover. I'm usually happy to let AL take all the shots when he's in, but with him missing, all that production has got to be replaced.
It is 9:00 PM, April 3rd, 2009. I am having a lovely dinner with Jess when Derek interrupts by calling me and telling me that I will be driving to Montreal tonight. I agree, eager to get out needing to sit in a crowded backseat situation for five hours, but I secretly question his judgment and my own ability to complete the mission before me. I tell Jess I love her in case I do not make it back.
It is 6:45 AM, April 4th. I am flipping out and yelling angrily at Pat and Derek at a gas station in Cornwall - our one and only stop on the way there.
It is 6:31 AM. Improbably, I have managed to drive for four straight hours before the inevitable night time hallucinations hit. I am being told that I am being pulled to let Pat finish off the last hour and a half, and that I should pull into the next service center. I understand the decision, although this still doesn't stop me from exploding angrily when they formally ask me to relinquish the driver's seat 15 minutes later.
It is 9:30 PM, April 5th. We are at Go 4 Tea again despite all reason and previous promises of never coming back. AL is making a baseball metaphor. He's comparing me to a pitcher that's thrown 120 pitches against one of the toughest line-ups in the league, on just a single day's rest. I came out for the 9th to attempt the shutout, but understandably, I was pulled at the first sign of trouble for the best closer in the game to handle the heart of the order - getting off the highway and navigating to the actual hotel through city streets named after famous French people.
It is 6:30 AM, April 4th. After over 20 minutes of driving on a straight and completely empty stretch of road, I see something in my headlights. I tap the brakes, afraid to hit it. A partially muscled skeleton stands in front of me and screams for thirty seconds before vanishing.
It is 10:14 PM. Derek asks me if I'm going to drink tonight. I tell him I am not, pledging to myself that Single Yak is never coming out again. He is rude man of questionable moral values and always leaves me with a headache, a dry mouth, and a preposterous reputation when I wake up the morning afterward. This will be the night I murder him forever. Derek subjects me to a lot of crude sexual insults. Corina slaps him.
It is 10:15 PM. Paolo has, allegedly, accidentally poured one too many shots of Jager.
It is 2:00 AM, April 5th. I am in the middle of the club, inappropriately inebriated, screaming at the ceiling that I am the third heat.
It is 11:30 PM, April 4th. I am talking to Aprile's friend Bryan. He is a white guy with a shaven head that gives off kind of a douchey vibe. He doesn't seem interested in talking to me and walks away towards the dance floor, saying that he needs to "go and get some pussy." I wish him good luck.
It is 1:30 AM, April 5th. Jennifer is asking me to call her the next time I'm in Montreal. I have no idea what her number is. I think she's just being nice. She and her friend Monday - named after the day she was born on and wearing a weird highlighter green top - are leaving the club now.
It is 1:31 AM. I can no longer remember how either of them looked like. I think I am pretty drunk.
1:35 AM. I've lost track of how many drinks I've had tonight. Paolo buys me some sort of horrible beer cocktail and forces me to drink it. The bartender is friendly with me and has poured too much into our shots. I don't know if I can finish it. The light...
The light is taking me to pieces.
3:30 AM. We are going for pizza. I see Aprile's friend Bryan leaving the club with their other two male white friends. There are no girls around them. There are a lot of girls around me.
It is 2:30 PM, April 5th. We are having lunch and I am 70% sure that I am not responsible for the black eye Daryl mysteriously got last night or for Michelle's fat lip. I claim that they are self inflicted wounds. I jokingly apologize to Daryl, explaining that I was probably trying to take a swing at Michelle's new boyfriend and accidentally hit him instead. I am surprised to realize how probable that outcome actually was. A tachyon haze prevents me from looking back into the past and I am unable to fully deny even to myself whether it really happened.
The photograph is in my hand...falling...lying in the sand at my feet.
Above the Nodus Gordii Mountains, jewels in a maker-less mechanism, the first meteorites are starting to fall.