Should See TV

Not that I ever really cared about the Superbowl, but it is just the latest thing that I have missed since embarking on this television-embargo. And even if I didn't give a crap about the game itself, I would've liked to have been in on all the watercooler chat about the commercials, the Black Eyed Peas punting their perfomance, and Christina Aguilera straight up bombing the lyrics to a song we are all taught as kindergarteners.

(Yeah I understand it must be nerve-wracking to be in front of millions of people, and that the song is generally considered difficult to sing not only correctly, but well. Still, she's a trained professional, you'd think she would've been sooo overly prepared that something like this wouldn't have happened. But I digress)

Since I'm less than half-way to my finishline, I thought I'd relate just a few of the things I've missed so far....

1.) Conan- Both on the Tonight Show AND his own new show (plus all the funny promos I was told about). I will admit I never bothered to stay up to watch his show way back when, but I always did enjoy his humor whenever I caught glimpses or reruns. So when everyone was breaking down into camps like the freaking Civil War, I was left standing in the middle, wondering what I was missing.

2.) The Chilean Miners- Granted, alot of the news about them was readily available via the radio and online news reports. Still, I can't help but think that this is one time that the imagination would be better replaced with seeing the actual footage of the men being rescued. Bummer, but maybe Hulu will offer that as a free video soon.

3.) The World Cup- I'm by no means a hardcore fan of ANY sport, but if I had to make a choice, I could sit in a bar, sip a beer, and watch a soccer game. I dunno, maybe it's because everything always seems to be moving (and that the soccer players aren't bad to look at), or maybe it's because when I was abroad it was what everyone was obsessed with and I wanted to try and fit in. Either way I developed a fondness for the game, and would get genuinely excited when the matches would be country vs. country, so when I realized I'd be missing it during this boob-tube hiatus...damnit. And then the fact that it won't happen again for another four years...goddammnit.

4.) The New Season of....- It's always a bit torturous to go home and visit my fam and every television in the house is tuned to a show I want to watch. And when it's a whole new season of shows like American Pickers or Real Housewives of New York or Project Runway, it really sticks in my craw. Although I will say this draught has helped clear the crappy-television clutter from my brain, making me realize when I do watch television again which shows I'd keep and which I'll toss.

There's a bunch more I'm sure, and maybe I'll make this a monthly thing where I recap some television-related events I've missed (or don't). But seeing as it's getting late, I better hit the ol' sack.

Goodnite television viewers.

Initial Disagreement

What's the deal with bands using initials when their band name don't merit them? Allow me to explain...

I was at work today listing to the radio station through my headphones, as always, when something caught my attention. Now I am still in the process of being able to half listen while concentrating on whatever it is I'm doing (or, at least whatever I'm supposed to be doing...what do I do again? Oh well, nevermind...) but something stuck out enough for me to mentally grab it and mull it over.

There's a contest going on right now that lets you win passes to the Linkin Park concert, but instead of saying "Linkin Park"again, they just said "LP".

Seriously? The band's entire name is only three syllables. Are we so lazy now that saying that many syllables is a burden?

Maybe the script-writer or whatever was thinking that they didn't want the announcer to say "Linkin Park" over and over again, which I can understand. But what's the deal with Avenged Sevenfold calling themselves A7S? I swear the first time I heard that I thought, who's that? Is that a new band? It confused me for a while, I won't lie, but when I found out it was the same lame band, I just got pissed. If they want to have a "7" in their name, why don't they just put it there in the first place?? Call yourselves Avenged 7 Fold or shorten it to ASF or even just AS since I'm pretty sure they use one word for Sevenfold.

At least with other bands, I can understand why they'd utilize initials. It's alot easier to put BTO on a t-shirt instead of Bachman Turner Overdrive and they save a bundle on marquee letters by putting ELO instead of Electric Light Orchestra.

I know I'm sounding like Andy Rooney (a.k.a. an old fart, fuddy-duddy, curmudgeon or anything else that would describe a 89 year old man named Mortimer), but I really just don't see the point to use initials for something so brief. And speaking of brief, you like the under 1,000 word post? I'm getting better (and see? Sometimes it pays when I have absolutely nothing else to talk about!) lol.

Fear not, I'm sure I'll get screwed by something this weekend. Tune in Monday to find out what.

Have a great weekend everybody!

The Shocker

You ever shock yourself? No, I don't mean by qualifying for both the Olympics AND Mensa at the same time...and not the little b.s. static electricity kind. I mean the coursing-through-your-veins-like-Frankenstein's-monster kind of shock.

Ok, it wasn't all that severe, but it was definitely a stronger sensation than touching my computer after walking on carpet.

I was recovering from my weekend festivities last last Sunday by just taking it easy and doing some household chores. But because I'm an addict to entertainment (not just television, I've found out) I need to have something playing, be it radio or Internet. And it is because of this that I love this little laptop of mine...well, most of the time.

It's so small it's really a great travelling computer. However, the only thing that sucks is that the cable to the battery outlet has gotten loose over time. It's now super-sensitive, and if the cable is even REMOTELY unplugged, I start to rely on the battery for power, even when the whole thing is PLUGGED into the outlet.

And as easy as the cord to the battery slips out, the more difficult the cord to the outlet is to unplug. I was shifting my actions from the living room to the kitchen, and so I went to unplug the cord into the power strip outlet. I tried at first to simply grip the plastic part of the cord, but when that proved difficult I used my finger to push it out the rest of the way...

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

I felt a strong charge zip right through my thumb and forefinger so quickly I took me a few seconds to actually shout the word, "Ow!" It literally felt like my hand had been shaken ferociously for a good few seconds and as I looked down my two fingers were red, but that was all the evidence I saw.

I must admit I was quite shy about touching that cord again...at least for a few minutes. But I'm not a totally dumb lab rat. The next time I will remember to use my hand as just an extractor...not a freaking conductor.

Weekend Wrap-up Part 2: Dude, Where're My Car Keys?

Brrr Greetings chilly-ones. It's been a long and crazy week, so let's get right to the continuation of the Weekend Wrap-up from last last weekend (grab a snack, it's a bit of a long one)...

So when we last visited, I had just gotten home with beer and wine after nearly breaking my neck in the snow and ice. Joe's and my friends had arrived already, so when I came home the boys retreated to the basement and my girlfriend and I cracked open a beer.

Though the weather was starting to get brisk we decided to go shoot some pool at the Rec Room, a sports bar nearby in Towson. We drove up, parked, and ordered a round before hitting the tables. After a few games I took a brief bathroom break and when I returned I noticed Car where I left her, by the electronic jukebox, with a few guys talking to her. As I approached I caught a glimpse of the guys and they didn't look much older than 17. Even in my current state, I was suspicious.

I sidled up between him and Car, turning my back to give him the idea to scram. Instead he muttered, "I wanna watch you guys play."

Car and I exchanged glances before saying, "We don't like people to watch us," but he still leaned on the barstool. Finally, I said, "you can watch us from over there..." Finally they got the hint and in the blink of an eye they all had evaporated. Almost too quickly so.

In any event, when they had gone I decided I wanted to play more songs so I stumbled over to the ATM. Now this has no real bearing on the story, but it might be an amusing little anecdote- or at least another example of my painful stupidity (and who am I to spare you that enjoyment?). As I take out my $20 bill, I noticed directly to my right a change machine. In my inebriated mind, I figured...change! I can break my $20 right here! It wasn't until I saw the bill slip through my fingers and into the change machine that I suddenly realized what I was doing- as if the film suddenly went from slo-mo to realtime..nnnnnnoooooo! All I could do was just stand there, waiting for my $20 worth of quarters to spill in my hand and pretend I actually meant to do it.

Anyway, as I struggled heavy-handed back to our table I was about to relay my mistake to Car, but I stopped.

"My wallet's gone," she said. The seriousness in her voice and face brought everything back into focus (well, mostly, anyway). We first checked all around the floor, then all around the bar. Pretty soon every bartender and manager was helping us look for the missing wallet. However it wasn't long before Car realized it wouldn't be found here.

"Those guys took it," she said definitively. I settled the tab while she went out to grab one of the cops that usually hang out by the movie theater. When I rejoined her she was even more distraught. With anger (and alcohol) pumping through my veins I tried to collect my words and ask another officer.

"Sccuz...um. Scuuze me. Ma frreiendzz wallet was stolen." Not surprisingly, he said, "What?"

I took a deep breath and tried again," My friend's wallet was stolen." He then asked Car questions and along with another officer we walked about, looking for the same guys who had bothered us in the bar. Suddenly Car said she spotted them walk into the Subway. The two officers told us to meet them back by the movie theater. Unfortunately when they returned they said that the boys didn't have it on them anymore. Most likely they took whatever cash and tossed the wallet somewhere else.

While Car went to make a police report I checked a few garbage cans to see if I could happen to spot it. I was disappointed and just as I was about to tell her, she had a big grin on her face.

"Apparently, someone just got tazed," she said. As we tried to casually walk by and see the victim on the ground, we felt our spirits lift a tad. Still, it was time to go home now.

By then I was sober and just ready to get home. We walked back to my car and as Car waited patiently for me to fish my keys out of my bag, I realized they were gone. Shit shit shit. I've only had this car for two weeks, and already I lost my first set. More worrisome, they were the dealership's keys- complete with description of the car.

I ran back to the bar, hoping maybe I had just dropped them somewhere. When I came in, one of the bartenders recognized me.

"We're still looking for that wallet," he said.

"Oh, good, but I'm actually looking for my keys now."

"Oh wow, it's really not your guys' night, huh?"

Keyless, I returned to my car and Car called her husband to give us a lift home. I pathetically told Joe the situation, but thankfully he was a hero (with AAA). They were able to pop open my car and I managed to get it home before any hooligans got to it.

Car and I toasted our mutual shitty-luck with another couple of beers. It may not be a totally happy ending, but it at least makes for an entertaining story.

Weekend Wrap-up Part 1: The Quest for Beer

Had a slightly adventuresome weekend. Let me break it down...

On Saturday Joe was having some friends of his over to discuss his latest project, and one of those guys was bringing his wife along to keep me company. After going into clean-up mode in the rest of the house Joe tended to his man cave while I decided to make a trek for some wine and beer for everyone.

Now as I think I've mentioned before (and in case you couldn't already tell) I really hate the winter and for a number of reasons; one of the biggest being that I hate to not be able to walk to the places near us because it's too cold or too icy. I get so sick and tired of being cooped up or relying on driving so much when the places I need to get to are only 5 minutes away. One of those places is the liquor store.

I stepped outside that afternoon to test the air. It was cold but thankfully the wind wasn't blowing so I bundled up, plugged my headphones into my iPod, and grabbed my black grocery bag as I headed out the door.

I got about halfway there when I realized I had just grabbed my debit card and not my ID. Though we really do live pretty close I didn't want to bother turning around to go get something I might not even need, so I kept going. Besides, it would be getting dark soon enough.

I crossed York Road and walked into the store. A kindly middle-aged woman came around and asked if I needed anything. After I told her what beer I'd like she carried it over to the counter for me.

"I'm going to try to make this easy for you since we saw that you walked here," she said smiling and with a slight Southern drawl.

I thanked her but showed her I came prepared with my own shopping bag. She was just placing the second 12-pack inside when she said, "Just gonna need to see some ID, sweetheart."

Ugh, crap. I chuckled loudly to myself and admitted to her that I had accidentally left it at the house.

"How old ahre you?" she asked seriously.

"25..no I mean 26!" I blurted out, but it was too late. She cocked her head to the side and with the sweetest tone said, "Ah, I'm sorry, but I caain't sell it. I am so sorry." I assured her I understood and walked out empty-handed, cursing myself. Freaking nervous teenagers who don't prep themselves before they try to buy beer and are carded would've answered better than I did, and I AM of age.

I got home and told Joe the story but said I would go back out and try again. I did so and went back to the same liquor store. The woman was gone but instead a guy that had just walked in hopped the counter and waited on me. He did, of course, card me, but at least this time I was prepared.

After I got home I reached into my backseat to grab the brown paper bag (which must have been made of glorified brown spray-painted crepe paper) and it ripped all the way down. Damn damn damn.

I then had to balance a 12 pack of beer and two bottles of wine on a icy sidewalk tight rope. I made it all the way home and figured my night wouldn't be any more eventful than that. I was, of course, sorely mistaken...Part 2 tomorrow.

A. C. Slacker

Ok, so since last night's post was long AND overly emotional (a.k.a. BORING) I'm gonna do something light and brief.

I had an awkward moment at work today. Our boss, who is ultra cool, came over yesterday and said that we'd have a meeting today to discuss how we have been progressing on our given projects. Let me back up a second and explain that for the past few weeks (yes, weeks) we have been pretty much told to do whatever we want, but that there was a small ongoing project we could each work on for a while until the bigger projects come through the pipeline. So after he described what we were doing we were left to our own devices.

Now, I hate to say it, but I'm a bit of a born slacker, as well as procrastinator. Unless I have the fear of God in me, or at least someone breathing down my neck, I usually take it upon myself to look up God knows what on the Internet or play Sporcle, a game-website one of the girls turned us onto. In between games and latest shopping queries, I have been every so often clicking on and actually doing a bit of research for my project- but I was nowhere near anything useful or really definitive yet. So when he mentioned wanting to see our progress, I got that old feeling I hadn't felt since college: slacker panic.

I went home trying to convince myself I would be fine, that I had SOMETHING, just so long as he didn't ask anything specific- like what EXACTLY this company I'm showing him does. My other saving grace, I thought, was that I was collaborating with the other temp, so we could kinda lean on each other.

In the morning he walked over to where we were sitting and suggested we have our meeting at 11, and that we could just email him what we had so far.....this was a problem. At that point all I had was a collection of websites that I could show him. What the hell was I going to email him? Quickly my fellow fremp and I got to work on putting something, ANYTHING, on some Powerpoint slides. It wasn't much, but we managed to get some stuff on 9 different slides. As time ran out I emailed him what we had and walked to our deaths.

Les was up first, and as usual, was way prepared with a nice long and detailed Excel spreadsheet of her project. She seemed informed and understood what she was supposed to be doing. Then it was our turn. He pulled up my first slide (the one I was responsible for) and was quiet. I looked at it through his eyes---what the hell has this girl been DOING for almost 3 weeks? A fourth grader would've put together a nicer slide with more info. And then I did the thing I am most embarrassed by.

I began with an offensive attack, trying to get a head start in commenting on the slides before he had the chance to ask anything, but I found myself stumbling and stammering. At one point he asked a specific question (ohcrapohcrapohcrap), and tried my hardest to not look dumbfounded.

"So..what does that '90% confidence' mean?," he asked.

"Um, well...yeah, it means that they wanted to be 90% confident the information they got was sound and so, uh, therefore....the information they gave back was...90% accurate," I managed to get out. You ever have one of those feelings where you are outside yourself and you are just watching you make a total ass of yourself because the person you are talking to can totally tell you have no idea what you are talking about?

Ah well. Thankfully, it was the last specific question he asked, and luckier, he even said it was looking good and was already helpful. He gave us a few simple points to include and then released us.

We walked out breathing a heavy sigh of relief, and I did the same thing I always do when I barely get by the skin of my teeth in those situations, and reminded myself to NEVER force myself to have to go through something like that again. I like to think I will, but I'll probably just put it off...ooh "Name all the original 13 colonies" on Sporcle, hmmmm

O Henry, Where Art Thou?

Maybe it's this weather, or maybe it's just how I've been feeling lately, but I was so struck by something that I felt the need to write it out. I should apologize in advance if I come off sounding pretentious or worse, old, but I really wanted to comment on something while it was fresh in my mind. I'll try, but this will probably not be one of my most humorous posts, however it will hopefully be one of my most passionate.

I was sitting in my car this evening, listening to NPR (as all good wannabe hipster/intellectuals are apt to do) and specifically "All Things Considered", when I heard the deep voice of Robert Siegel describe the next segment as discussing the language and dialects on Twitter. Now, I'm still a bit of a newcomer to NPR, but this right off the bat, annoyed me a bit. I thought, really? Is that so very important right now? Still, I listened and waited, hoping they would maybe do a profile on how Twitter's language varies from country to country or describe the impact these social networking sites and their language have had on how businesses are practiced.

Instead I was stuck, nay, FORCED to hear the distinguished voice of Robert Seigel, utter things like "sutton" and "coo". The final blow occurred when a researcher from Carnegie Mellon answered questions, and explained to Siegel that "sutton" basically meant, "something." It was like a sit down between generations, the younger explaining pop culture to the older. This is really the second time I have felt this way; the first being when Terry Gross spoke to Green Day on "Fresh Air" about their musical based on "American Idiot".

As the researcher began his analysis of Laughing Out Loud, or "L-O-L-ing" I sighed and sadly clicked on my classic rock station. I realized I was annoyed and saddened by two factors- the overall catering to a generation and the seemingly enthusiastic demise of our common language.

As I mentioned I am still new to NPR, but from what I gathered already is that it is a station that encourages artistic and scientific thought. Though the shows are diverse they all share one common thread that unites them; they are all meant to enlighten. They can all teach you something.

Maybe it's just me. Maybe this is where the pretension and age seeps out of me and I come across as a know-nothing know-it-all or just a young old-fart. But I can't help but think there is much more to ourselves than these social fads, no matter how great or ever-present. I don't want to learn about the casual language of pre-teens. I want to know why we are in a war, explained to me in simple terms. I don't care about a band that has all but given up their relevance and social response for a short stint back in the limelight by reusing old songs into a trendy musical. I want to hear NEW things, by people I've never heard of- jazz singers or folk artists, rappers who truly use language as art and not merely as means to obtain frivolities like sex and money. When we become soft in our minds we become soft as as society. We are told to never stop learning, and we never will stop. But the materials we incorporate into our brain stems must be of a greater quality if we are to progress, not just as a generation, but as the holders of the future.

Now onto my second point of this boring lecture- the crushing of our language. As little as I am informed in the history or standards of NPR, I am in the history and standards of our language. However, I can say fully and without fear of retaliation, that I am just as informed as you. And still, I say we must reclaim our language.

Though my stint as an English teacher was brief I can tell that we are doing the generations below us a great disservice if we do not at least make the effort to encourage and teach basic language. Part of it, I know, is due to the people that are surrounding these kids, but it certainly cannot help when we are waving a flag of incompetence and saluting it.

I think about that movie, "My Fair Lady," another musical (ironic on my part, or just lazy? You decide) in which Henry Higgins finally creates a breakthrough for Eliza, reminding her that our common language is the greatest thing we could possess. Beneath the idealistic and corny words themselves, there is great truth in that. Our language is an equalizer, allowing us to come from whatever background we are thrown and find a commonality. I understand the need for casual language, I realize even other languages have both formal and informal usages. However, I fear that we have become too lax in ours, the linguistic equivalent of wearing gym shorts to a black-tie affair.

What will become of us if we care only to get by, put in little but expect much? IDK.