Update

Nacho Libre is my favorite movie. What do I know about roller derby? Coconuts do not reside on ocean floors. Sherri is slightly older than me. Ok, I updated.

Six or Seven generally unknown things about me - IN MULTIMEDIA!

1) It bugs me when people use the word "download" improperly. Download means to copy from a remote computer to a local computer. It is not synonymous with "install", "transfer", "copy", "eat", "defecate" or "pounce upon" and those who use it as such stink on toast.

2) Sometimes I say "stink on toast."

3) I'm not a bad singer. Take a listen to this and this as evidence. Furthermore, I've never had a lesson.

4) I do not get headaches. But I have had Scabies. If you think that's gross,

5) I watch porn (if you consider Flight of the Conchords pornographic). Visit this link if you think you have the stomach for it. (Hint: Not porn)

6) This is what I will look like when I am bald.



7) I'm pretty much the best person I know at Photoshop.

I tag Big Jason and Sasha.



You can read the post where I got tagged here.

Movie Night

If you are easily upset by the sight of blood then do not look at any blood while reading this blog entry. Caution: The previous statement. You have been warned.

One day Paul invited me to go see the film The Count of Monte Cristo at the dollar theater. He even offered to pay. Thanks Paul. The End. Except that it isn't. If that were the end then this story would be not dumb and I assure you that this story IS NOT DUMB. This story occurred on a Friday night. Friday nights at the dollar movie theater are circumnavigational in that you have to drive around the parking lot numerous times (if you are a dork-o-matic lazy good for nothing crybaby) in order to find a good parking spot (instead of just parking further away and walking - lamquen! exercise!). Apparently Paul is a dork-o-matic lazy good for nothing crybaby because rather than parking further away he decided to park his car in the parking lot of the rock climbing establishment next door taking special care to disregard the numerous (many) and threatening signs posted at 4 foot intervals stating that cars parked here by movie-going patrons would be towed. I pointed out that he stood a good chance of getting towed if he left his car there, for the signs had not gone unnoticed by myself. He assured me that he had seen the signs and was aware of the risk but felt that it was minor. I tried (honestly, Mandi, I TRIED) to convince him that this was a bad idea and that I certainly didn't mind walking 200 extra yards in order to park in the safety of the somewhere else. Paul would have none of it and proceeded to the ticket booth. This was the opening night of Count of Monte Cristo at the dollar theater and it being a college town, it was not surprising to note that the show had sold out. It was surprising however to hear Paul ask the ticket attendant for two tickets to A Walk to Remember, a heartwarming film starring the appropriately named Mandy Moore which had the only benefit of not being sold out. I thought Paul had lost his mind. I was certainly not interested in spending a lovely evening cuddling with the present company and crying into each other's shoulders. When I asked Paul what the devil was going on he told me to shut it off and walked purposefully toward the ticket taker who told us our film was being shown in theater 3. Paul walked directly and in the opposite direction toward theater 5 where The Count of Monte Cristo was showing and where another theater employee was stationed to check tickets and ensure that no one snuck into the show. Paul gladly showed him his ticket as he walked past him quickly into the theater and as I passed the sentryman I mumbled "I'm with him." Phew! We watched and enjoyed the movie from this point onward until it ended.

Afterward, we walked back to the car to discover that it had been booted. I looked at Paul's face and laughed and laughed until he finally admitted he was so not cool. The tow company employee who had placed the boot on the car approached us. Apparently he had been waiting in his car for us to show up. He explained that he would remove the boot after being paid a certain sum of money which neither Paul nor I had. Paul decided to call Mandi to have her come pick us up, but we didn't even have enough money for change for the pay phone, so Paul wandered around the still populated theater asking people for change. When he had accumulated enough money to place the call Mandi gratefully answered. She agreed to help, but either Paul didn't tell her to bring the checkbook or she didn't know where the checkbook was because we had to go back to Paul's house, get the checkbook and then come back to pay off the hatchet man. Mandi was unhappy about having to drive back to the theater again so I offered to drive back in my car so she could go back to bed (Yes, that's another thing. Mandi had been asleep in bed). As we drove back I tried to convince Paul that he should offer the fella a bribe, tell him he'd write a $40 check to hatchet man himself. Paul thought it would be funny but figured that it would be a bad idea since it is illegal to bribe people. oh. I kept encouraging him and explaining that bribery is not illegal until finally he agreed to give it a try. Paul tried (not very earnestly, in my opinion) to bribe tow-truck Sally, but failed. Thanks for the movie, Paul. Let's do it again soon.

Let it Snow

Jarom and Emma and I made a snowman yesterday.

Tidings of Comfort and Joy

Paul provides awesome graphics as per usual. Thanks, Paul!

I like Christmas music. If you do not like Christmas music, vamoose. At this time of year my tastes broaden to include the likes of Burl Ives, Frank Sinatra, Perry Como, Bing Crosby, Gene Autry, and The Carpenters. I have been listening to traditional Christmas music on Pandora for a week or so and have enjoyed the music tremendously. Mostly. There are some songs, however, that attempt to stretch the boundary of what is tolerable - even to someone as broad-minded as me!

Let us take, for example, the tune I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus as performed by Perry Como. It starts out well enough as a cute little song about infidelity with a grizzled old elf, but at precisely 1 minute and 4 seconds into the song the whole thing turns markedly sour when the backing singers begin to chant in a schoolyard taunting sing-song voice "We know a secret. We've got a little secret. Nah-nah na nah-nah." I ask you! How does such an abomination of a ditty make it's way into an otherwise fine production? I used to sleep comfortably with the assumpion that such trite and childish musical inclusions were reserved to the Bachata music I used to hear in the Dominican Republic. Comfortable assurance has been supplanted by unease. Yes, unease. And dread.

Next I will criticize a song that perhaps several of you have heard before. If you want to express your appreciation for this song, get your own dang blog because I hate it! It is the Mannheim Steamroller recording of Deck the Halls. Can anyone guess why I would put so much effort into my dislike for this song? It is not hard to guess as the reason occurs 5 (five [that's F-I-V-E]) times therein. In preparing this blog entry I had to listen to the song all the way through to ascertain the precise number of occurances. Do you see what pains I go to in order to bring you, the fine reader of this blog, ideas from the cutting edge of my brain? If by now you have not guessed the reason for my euphemistic displeasure with this recording, it is that they do not play the correct note. And they do this as though it were intentional! Did you give them permission to do so? I assure you, I did not. Shame on you if you did. I want you to write on a chalkboard 500 times "I will never, no, not ever, again give permission to Mannheim Steamroller to brutalize another song for the duration of my existence whether mortal or otherwise and if I observe another individual in the act of providing such permission I will admonish and scold them on authority of Joel." Once you have completed this assignment, mail the blackboard to me. You will then be required to clean the chalk-laden erasers before you will be allowed to return to your seat. If you appreciate your current beratement-free state, do not post a comment here indicating any degree of fondness for this song.

Sasha, stop reading now. Last on the list of abominable Christmas songs is a little booger that squeezed its way out of the infernal depths of hell: Harry Connick Jr's recording of Frosty the Snowman. Hang on one moment, please. Well, I just listened to it again and decided that it isn't evil so I'll let it pass. Sasha, you can start reading again. In fact, never mind about me telling you to stop reading up there. You can go ahead and read this. I do not sympathize with the "Thumpitty thump thump" shout which occurs multiple times in this recording and the jazziness lends a great amount of no-thank-you-ness to the whole thing, but as I wrote earlier, it is not virulently evil and therefore not a contender for inclusion in this blog post. In fact, I'm just going to remove this paragraph entirely.

Ok, now it is Sherri's turn to stop reading. Stop reading now, please, Sherri. Seriously, I am not going to change my mind on this song like I sorta did on the Harry Connick Jr. one. So STOP. Everyone else, I'm not talking to you. Continue reading as though Sherri were nowhere around. If she insists on reading through this portion of the blog, ignore her! On we go. There is a song called "Mele Kalikimaka" which was made famous by the unmitigated Bing Crosby. Bing, I really enjoy a lot of your Christmas songs and your cherries are delightful. But this piece of sewage pushes my buttons. If you couldn't tell by the title of the song itself, the entirety of the song is based on a mispronunciation of the greeting "Merry Christmas". It doesn't help anyone that I have an abiding distaste for polynesian music of any sort due to my step-father foisting it upon us whenever we traveled along the grooved shoulder of the highway (you know, the grooves that are supposed to alert the driver to the fact that he is driving on them (the grooves) and not the freeway lane that he thinks he is driving on) for hundreds of miles on any given road-trip.

Ok, Sherri, you can start reading again, but if you start to misbehave, I'm cutting you out again. There you have it, folks. My sentiments, exactly. I hope you are never forced to choose between listening to one of these songs and something grody and terrible. It would be a tough decision. But if you are a masochist or feel that your "very poor Christmas music" tolerance is higher than mine, I have made these songs available on my FTP site under the "Jukebox\Christmas\painful" folder. If you do not have an FTP account, one can be yours for the low low price of $99.99.99 - Contact me for details.