Friday, January 20, 2006
Jinx!
I put Luke down for a nap almost two hours ago. I'm surprised he's sleeping this long. In fact, I'm testing my "Jinx Theory of Sleeping." The theory goes something like this: if I start doing something that is going to take more than a few minutes while Luke is asleep, Luke will inevitably wake up right as I start.
To my surprise, I got through a whole paragraph without him waking up. But I know it can't last. He's bound to hear my fingers banging away on the keyboard. Oh, wait. Mocha just started growling at the garbage trucks going down the street. But she didn't bark? Something must be wrong with her. My Jinx Theory clearly stipulates that if Luke doesn't wake himself up, one of the animals will help out.
Speaking of Mocha, a month or so ago, we decided to fatten her up. She was vomitting all over the house and being rather annoying in general. Plus, she's really skinny and it makes us look bad. You know, if you want to look thin, you don't hang out with a bunch of Ethiopians. You hang out with people from Sheboygan. Mocha is slowly becoming more and more of a Sheboyganite. (Sheboyganite, by the way, is a rare compound made of basalt, cheese, and beer.)
Mocha still has some, um, excitability issues. But overall, she's calming down, which is nice. Plus, she's starting to look fatter. My goal is to get her up to about 70 pounds (she was about 60). If she's still annoying, I'll try to get her up to 80. And if she's still annoying, I'm just giving her a gravy IV until her heart explodes.
This is quite an odd experience for me though. I had 2 dogs growing up. They both had weight issues. We had to limit how much they ate and put them on low-calorie dog food. I remember hearing vets say that dogs shouldn't be overweight. It's not good for their health and blah blah blah. Meanwhile, I'm thinking that if I fatten up Mocha enough, the next time she wants to bite someone, she'll just have a heart attack.
Oh! I think I just heard Luke stirring. I'm actually surprised I got to write this much. Perhaps my Jinx Theory is all a bunch of rubbish. Or perhaps I just have a bad habit of waiting until he's about to wake up to do anything. Nah, I think my Jinx Theory makes much more sense.
To my surprise, I got through a whole paragraph without him waking up. But I know it can't last. He's bound to hear my fingers banging away on the keyboard. Oh, wait. Mocha just started growling at the garbage trucks going down the street. But she didn't bark? Something must be wrong with her. My Jinx Theory clearly stipulates that if Luke doesn't wake himself up, one of the animals will help out.
Speaking of Mocha, a month or so ago, we decided to fatten her up. She was vomitting all over the house and being rather annoying in general. Plus, she's really skinny and it makes us look bad. You know, if you want to look thin, you don't hang out with a bunch of Ethiopians. You hang out with people from Sheboygan. Mocha is slowly becoming more and more of a Sheboyganite. (Sheboyganite, by the way, is a rare compound made of basalt, cheese, and beer.)
Mocha still has some, um, excitability issues. But overall, she's calming down, which is nice. Plus, she's starting to look fatter. My goal is to get her up to about 70 pounds (she was about 60). If she's still annoying, I'll try to get her up to 80. And if she's still annoying, I'm just giving her a gravy IV until her heart explodes.
This is quite an odd experience for me though. I had 2 dogs growing up. They both had weight issues. We had to limit how much they ate and put them on low-calorie dog food. I remember hearing vets say that dogs shouldn't be overweight. It's not good for their health and blah blah blah. Meanwhile, I'm thinking that if I fatten up Mocha enough, the next time she wants to bite someone, she'll just have a heart attack.
Oh! I think I just heard Luke stirring. I'm actually surprised I got to write this much. Perhaps my Jinx Theory is all a bunch of rubbish. Or perhaps I just have a bad habit of waiting until he's about to wake up to do anything. Nah, I think my Jinx Theory makes much more sense.
Thursday, January 19, 2006
My Guilty Secret
Awhile ago, I confessed to watching Nanny 911. It's pretty embarrassing, I know. I have another guilty secret to confess though. I've actually been taping American Idol because I don't want to miss a minute of it.
I think American Idol is a terrible show. It represents (nay, celebrates) all that is wrong with music today. It's a bunch of no-talent ass clowns (thank you, Office Space) competing by singing terrible songs. And yet, that's what makes it so damn interesting.
I really only care about the first few episodes of the year, when they do the auditions. And the worse the person does, the more I enjoy it. I actually stop watching the show once everyone gets to Hollywood because I could really care less about who wins. I'm shocked that anyone does. Yet, millions of people vote. I'm guessing it's because life is so boring for these people and they literally have nothing else to do with their time.
(By the way, has anyone bought or downloaded (legally or illegally) an album by Kelly Clarkson, Ruben Studdard, Fantasia Something, or Carrie Underwood? I didn't think so. That said, I really like Kelly Clarkson's "Since You Been Gone." God, I'm such a loser.)
I can't tear myself away from this show though. I'm so damn interested in seeing the morons they trot out time and time again. What's disturbing is how many truly terrible singers think that they're great. I think I know how this happens too. They'll sing around the house or around school or wherever. And they'll ask, "how was that?" And everyone says, "uh, it was great, I guess." Then the ego takes over and next thing you know, they're on American Idol.
There has to be a way to stop this. I suggest that from now on, if you hear someone singing, tell them they suck. If they give you a weird look or get offended, tell them that you just don't want them to show up on American Idol. Of course, that only applies for moderately bad singers. The horrible singers (you'll know them because they'll leave a trail of dead animals behind them when they're singing), should only be encouraged to try out for American Idol. Not only should you be advising them to try out for the show, but you should also tell them to dress in the most outrageous outfits possible. Otherwise, they won't get on TV. If you can do that, I think I'll be able to keep watching this terrible show.
I think American Idol is a terrible show. It represents (nay, celebrates) all that is wrong with music today. It's a bunch of no-talent ass clowns (thank you, Office Space) competing by singing terrible songs. And yet, that's what makes it so damn interesting.
I really only care about the first few episodes of the year, when they do the auditions. And the worse the person does, the more I enjoy it. I actually stop watching the show once everyone gets to Hollywood because I could really care less about who wins. I'm shocked that anyone does. Yet, millions of people vote. I'm guessing it's because life is so boring for these people and they literally have nothing else to do with their time.
(By the way, has anyone bought or downloaded (legally or illegally) an album by Kelly Clarkson, Ruben Studdard, Fantasia Something, or Carrie Underwood? I didn't think so. That said, I really like Kelly Clarkson's "Since You Been Gone." God, I'm such a loser.)
I can't tear myself away from this show though. I'm so damn interested in seeing the morons they trot out time and time again. What's disturbing is how many truly terrible singers think that they're great. I think I know how this happens too. They'll sing around the house or around school or wherever. And they'll ask, "how was that?" And everyone says, "uh, it was great, I guess." Then the ego takes over and next thing you know, they're on American Idol.
There has to be a way to stop this. I suggest that from now on, if you hear someone singing, tell them they suck. If they give you a weird look or get offended, tell them that you just don't want them to show up on American Idol. Of course, that only applies for moderately bad singers. The horrible singers (you'll know them because they'll leave a trail of dead animals behind them when they're singing), should only be encouraged to try out for American Idol. Not only should you be advising them to try out for the show, but you should also tell them to dress in the most outrageous outfits possible. Otherwise, they won't get on TV. If you can do that, I think I'll be able to keep watching this terrible show.
Monday, January 16, 2006
Me Likey Puzzles
I'm a big fan of puzzles. All kinds of puzzles. That's one of the things that The Wife and I have in common, which can be very annoying. We both love logic puzzles and fight over who gets to do them whenever they show up in our Games magazines. My love of puzzles is a bit greater. I do a lot of crosswords and crostics. I like cryptograms and I've got a mild case of addiction to Su Doku.
Back when The Wife was just The Girlfriend, we decided to take a trip to Italy. We got some ridiculously cheap flight ($200 per person) to fly into Milan. Of course, the trip back came with a 7-hour layover in Copenhagen. Knowing how bored I get on planes (and in airports), I bought a nice big crossword book to keep myself entertained. It was a collection of 500 New York Times Sunday crosswords. The thing was HUGE. I didn't quite finish it in Italy. (Though we did get through about 75 of them and it provided plenty of entertainment in Copenhagen around hour 20 of being awake. Unfortunately, we still had about 3 hours to go before our plane boarded. Oh yeah, and The Wife can't sleep on planes. So, she'd wake ME up when I fell asleep. Thinking the plane was being hijacked or something (it was just 6 months after 9/11), I'd bolt awake. "What's going on?" "I'm bored." "I'm sleeping." "I know, that's why I'm bored." And yes, for some reason, I decided to make her The Wife.)
Anyway, I kept that book around for a couple years after Italy. Eventually, The Wife began calling it "That Damned Crossword Book." The Wife wanted to throw it away. Even I wanted to throw it away. But I couldn't do it until I finished every crossword in it. I'm kind of anal like that. (This is foreshadowing done on a 2nd-grade level. And yes, I'm writing above my usual level.)
One of my other loves is jigsaw puzzles. I used to do a lot of them as a kid. I don't do as many of them now because for the most part, they bore me. They're not challenging enough. Well, then they came out with photomosaic puzzles. Basically, they're like Seurat paintings. When you're far away, they look like a big picture. But if you get closer, you can see that the big picture is in fact made up of thousands of little pictures. Pretty nifty stuff.
The photomosaic puzzles really got me back into puzzles, especially since they came out with Simpsons versions of the puzzles. Well, The Wife bought me one awhile ago that I didn't have time to work on because of school. I whipped it out Saturday and spent most of the weekend working on it. It sure beats looking after my kid or cleaning up the house. Anyway, last night I was wrapping it up and I discovered that I'm missing a piece.
I don't know if there's a more frustrating feeling in the world than missing the very last puzzle piece. (Actually, it's only the last puzzle piece because it's missing. But that's besides the point.) If you take my obsession with completing That Damn Crossword Book and multiply it by 100, you might have an idea how obsessed I am with finishing this puzzle. I'm tempted to tear the house apart looking for it. I mean, how can I possibly go on knowing that I couldn't finish the puzzle because one stupid piece is missing?
Well, if finding the piece means that I'd have to actually clean up the house, I think I'm okay with not finishing the puzzle. After all, I can easily convince myself that one of the cats, the dog, or even Luke ate it. Meanwhile, we all know the piece is stuck to my elbow. Or that The Wife ate it out of spite. In fact, she probably knows that I'd turn the house upside down looking for it and this is her way of getting me to clean the house. Well, I'm onto you and it ain't gonna work!
Back when The Wife was just The Girlfriend, we decided to take a trip to Italy. We got some ridiculously cheap flight ($200 per person) to fly into Milan. Of course, the trip back came with a 7-hour layover in Copenhagen. Knowing how bored I get on planes (and in airports), I bought a nice big crossword book to keep myself entertained. It was a collection of 500 New York Times Sunday crosswords. The thing was HUGE. I didn't quite finish it in Italy. (Though we did get through about 75 of them and it provided plenty of entertainment in Copenhagen around hour 20 of being awake. Unfortunately, we still had about 3 hours to go before our plane boarded. Oh yeah, and The Wife can't sleep on planes. So, she'd wake ME up when I fell asleep. Thinking the plane was being hijacked or something (it was just 6 months after 9/11), I'd bolt awake. "What's going on?" "I'm bored." "I'm sleeping." "I know, that's why I'm bored." And yes, for some reason, I decided to make her The Wife.)
Anyway, I kept that book around for a couple years after Italy. Eventually, The Wife began calling it "That Damned Crossword Book." The Wife wanted to throw it away. Even I wanted to throw it away. But I couldn't do it until I finished every crossword in it. I'm kind of anal like that. (This is foreshadowing done on a 2nd-grade level. And yes, I'm writing above my usual level.)
One of my other loves is jigsaw puzzles. I used to do a lot of them as a kid. I don't do as many of them now because for the most part, they bore me. They're not challenging enough. Well, then they came out with photomosaic puzzles. Basically, they're like Seurat paintings. When you're far away, they look like a big picture. But if you get closer, you can see that the big picture is in fact made up of thousands of little pictures. Pretty nifty stuff.
The photomosaic puzzles really got me back into puzzles, especially since they came out with Simpsons versions of the puzzles. Well, The Wife bought me one awhile ago that I didn't have time to work on because of school. I whipped it out Saturday and spent most of the weekend working on it. It sure beats looking after my kid or cleaning up the house. Anyway, last night I was wrapping it up and I discovered that I'm missing a piece.
I don't know if there's a more frustrating feeling in the world than missing the very last puzzle piece. (Actually, it's only the last puzzle piece because it's missing. But that's besides the point.) If you take my obsession with completing That Damn Crossword Book and multiply it by 100, you might have an idea how obsessed I am with finishing this puzzle. I'm tempted to tear the house apart looking for it. I mean, how can I possibly go on knowing that I couldn't finish the puzzle because one stupid piece is missing?
Well, if finding the piece means that I'd have to actually clean up the house, I think I'm okay with not finishing the puzzle. After all, I can easily convince myself that one of the cats, the dog, or even Luke ate it. Meanwhile, we all know the piece is stuck to my elbow. Or that The Wife ate it out of spite. In fact, she probably knows that I'd turn the house upside down looking for it and this is her way of getting me to clean the house. Well, I'm onto you and it ain't gonna work!
Stupid Blogspot!
Ah, how frustrating. I just wrote a whole post on the Bears and how they annoy me. But I lost it because of the stupid website. I ain't writing it again either. So you guys will just have to imagine how frustrated I am. Given that most of you live in Chicago and are Bears fans, I'm sure you won't have to do much imagining. At least I've been able to displace some of that anger towards blogspot.
