Daily Haiku for March 26 & 27, 2008

OH SNAP! I'm really

bad at remembering to

write these damn haiku!

Here's a double dose

from me to you, dear forwards.

So enjoy...do it...

Don't strain yourself, guys.

Word scrambles and porn:

A typical workday for

my cubicle mates.

Word of the Day

manteau- (n.) a mantle or cloak; esp. one worn by women.

"Madame Maudrillard's maroon manteau mauled Mireille's meticulously managed mauve muumuu."

Word of the Day

mordant- (adj.) sharply caustic or sarcastic, as wit or a speaker; biting.

"Mordred's murderous mumblings markedly managed a mordant and menacing mantra."

Roqblog No. 1

So a few months ago (to be precise, three months and twenty-five six days ago) I made a resolution to not let things pass me by. A little generic, yes. But I made it nonetheless. It all came into being as I realized that come this July I will have been back in the states for two years, TWO FUCKING YEARS that just flew right past me with little accomplishment or moments of regard.

That’s a lie. I met some really, really cool people in the past two years, taught actually valuable lessons to high school kids (“Never leave school, the real world sucks,” and “What should you do today? Stage a revolution, things are getting a little quiet around here.”), fulfilled a two separate life goals of working as a Camp Counselor (twice!), and as a Sandwich Artiste, closed a few lingering chapters of my life, and existed as a transient gypsy child completely against settling in any place for too long. Hell, I even signed a lease, bought a bed, found a “real” job and took out a loan on a new car.

So I guess that first paragraph is all bollocks, but whatever. THE POINT IS, the last two years have absolutely flown by me and that is disturbing. So I dared myself to do something I had always wanted to do (that is also a lie, it should read: Something I had been wanting to do since I was nine years old listening to Offspring’s “Smash” while roller-skating in my garage and knew I would always regret if I didn’t try) (Aren’t I enterprising?). I auditioned for a band. YAY ME. And guess what? Through no small feat of my sheer and overpowering AWESOMENESS (and the possibility of being the only person who didn’t outwardly suck balls or cancel on them) I am apparently the new (politically correct) front-person for said band. Pretty cool, no? Yeah, it is.

Even though I still feel like I’m only 74% their (politically correct) front-person (as the ever pressing fear of receiving the “you know what, nevermind” e-mail lingers in my nightmares), I am pretty happy about how things are playing out thus far. Finally I can sit around staring dreamily at the sky, siphoning creative inspiration into the inkwell of my writing pen, placing words and melodies to paper without feeling a demmed literary fool. Now when people say in a sneering leer, “What is that? Poetry?” I can cheerfully respond, “Nay, citizen. ‘Tis a storm of lyrical might that will be supported by musical euphonies your Neolithic cerebellum cannot possibly perceive as anything less than wonderful.”

It’s good to be me right now.

So, ANYWAYS, I’ve decided this will become a popular (re: POPULAR ‘cos I’m cool like that) topic of my blogular[1] writings. Sort of an “evolutionary metamorphosis of a band” type thing. It’ll probably be an on-going deal from time to time as long as the guys don’t kick me out (don’t kick me out, guys). Once we choose a name and start doing things I’ll probably rally to be the official blog writer on what will presumably be our so-fucking-kickass-your-tears-bleed-blood myspace page (rawr!). Till then, I’ll post here and there about rehearsals et whatnot. Scintillating, I know. KEEP POSTED!

---

[1] Heh. I just realized that if I was dyslexic, there would be the chance that I would misspell “blogular” as “globular”. Awesome.

It's the BATMAN

I would just like to point out that the president of Bat Conservation International is named Merlin Tuttle.









Oh yes, and that bees and bats are dropping dead for no apparent reason; but that 's not a tiding of doom...no, no way.

Chinless Man of the Week

Melvil Poupaud, ladies and gentlemen. Quite honestly, I haven't the slightest fuck who this guy is. But look at him, that tempered franconian scowl, those tousled tresses, that ever-so-well-kempt-scruff. This man is beautiful...and chinless. That being said, I'm back, ladies and gent's, with all the chinless men you can handle, once a week only on the Red-Headed Stepblog.

A robot who is rocking...LEFT-HANDED!!!1!11!!eleven!!

Oh look, a special friend has crawled onto my drawring papers. Hallo, friend.

Daily Haiku for March 24, 2008

I Am An Outlook MASTERMIND!!1!!11!!!!eleven!!

Look! My signature

has returned at the bottom

of the page! Oh wow!

Because there are three, you see.

P.S., dear Trier:

which e-mail address is the

best to reach you at?

Word of the Day

skulduggery- (n.) dishonorable proceedings; mean dishonesty or trickery.

"Sveregard's swerving skulduggery swayed Svenson's snivveling spades from stealing the ceremonial silver swords."

l1nkz0r5

Nerds Love Math
...and Star Wars (har har har)

Is it secret? Is it safe (from a re-edit)?
This marvelous little thing takes Tolkien and, well, rapes the ever-loving bajeebus out of it. I hope they sent a thank you note.

WANT
srsly, lulz. Best. Bicycle. Gang. EVAR!

Someone tell the story....
...someone sing the song! Every now and then a guy gets shot and Dr.'s can/cannot save him.

Bender's Fate is Just a Quarter
and an instructional manual away!

My Self-Righteous Sense is Tingling!
Oh wait, that's just your friendly neighborhood ChristianMan.


.

Co-Worker Theatre Presents: The Boxes

Scene: Me sits at the reception desk clicking halfheartedly on a mouse. Lawyer continually walks behind Me with binders, papers and a few boxes. She makes four passes before re-entering.

Enter Lawyer(st. rt.)

Lawyer
Juan took the dolly didn't he?

Me
(sitting at desk, bored/vaguely uninterested look in eyes)
Yes.

Lawyer
(sighing loudly)
How the fuck am I supposed to get these boxes downstairs?

Me
(looks at boxes and quickly counts their numbers. There are 4 [four] mid-sized boxes on the ground. Does quick mental math and estimates trajectory of travel including the velocity of the elevator that will carry Lawyer and the boxes down 19 floors to her valet parked car)

Carry them?

Lawyer
(stares vacantly before exiting stage left. Me resumes clicking on teh intraweb as Lawyer returns with 2(two) assistants.)

Assistant #1
Gawd, I wish we had a dolly.
(Asst. 2 stares pointedly at Me).

Lawyer
I knoooow. ugh!

(All head towards elevator, grumbling.)

Daily Haiku for March 20, 2008

Nom nom nom nom nom

Thursday lunches are so cool.

Mainly 'cos it's free.

Word of the Day

repast- (n.) a quantity of food taken or provided for one occasion of eating

"Roland's retrograded rations royally rasied his repasted regard."

Daily Haiku for March 19, 2008

If only things would

slow down for a little bit.

I need a nap, yo!

Word of the Day

somnambulism- sleepwalking

"Scott's somnambulistic escapades scared sleeping Britta as he slammed the door, LOUDLY."

Daily Haiku for the Last Two (2) Weeks

As the cloud of work

Settles over my full desk

I find a moment

To write quite a few

Haiku that I am remiss

in producing, so

here are several

little coupling matches for

you to read and to

Make up for those I

have missed in writing for you:

My stomach, it growls.

A coffee is not

a well-rounded breakfast, but

it's all that I ate.

Perhaps I will have

leftover PF Changs for

lunch this friday.

The sun is not out

So getting cancer is not

an option I have.

Maybe sit in my

car and listen to music?

I'll probably do that.

I have two song to

get through before Tuesday night

with criticism.

It's scary to be

sure, but appreciated.

Constructivism!

Sierra is in

town, which is super awesome.

Tomorrow? Omelettes!

And meat pies, oh dear!

Maybe we'll watch Sweeney Todd

as we eat the pies.

That sounds sick enough

to be appropriate for

a night with Britta.

Word(s) of the Day

pertinacious- (adj.) holding tenaciously to a purpose, a course of action, or opinion; resolute.

"Perry's persistent pertinaciousness plugged Pamela's post with pliable platitudes and persnippitiness."

sedulous- (adj.) diligent in application or attention; persevering; assiduous.

"Smarmily, Severus Snape's snivellingly sedulous snides and sneers smeared Harry's sustained celebrity."

Workweek Playlist, Vol. 5:

Out of commission for the time being.

Been busy with stuff 'n' things. Check back later.

When I post this again, you know.

More presents from the interwebs.

L1nx0r5 from my heart to yours.

Steve Olson strikes again!
This time with a blog referring to a Craig Harper article (quasi similar to this opine of mine). Check it out, he makes a valid point.

The Cake isn't ali(v)e
...and it's delicious.

What a Beautiful World
Now you can watch it in real(ish) time. Nifty website shows you what's been uploaded onto flickr by the minute. I spent about an hour of my time yesterday clicking back to this, seeing the world through stranger's eyes.

Wordsworth
Ever miss those jam-band sessions that sparked radio hits? Remember Weezer's early cut of "Death and Destruction"? Yeah, I liked it better without words as well. Looks like Slate agrees.

WANT
coolest.teddy bear. EVAR.

A little bit o' the ol' Webwanderin'

Everyday my time at the desk is spent in a pleasant routine: Checking my work e-mail, responding should I happen to have inbox presents, overhearing the co-workers ramble (sometime joining in, other times religiously scribbling down what they say for further usage in my wonderment), and scanning Reddit for interesting tidbits from around the internets (thankfully, I have not yet reached the end of the internet and have therefore been able to avoid the blackhole that is 4chan...but I fear this time is nigh).

This last item tends to last sporadically throughout my morning until I routinely switch over to Digg to fill the hours post-lunch. It is during these Web 2.0 wanderings that I find some interesting things. In the vein of Whitney Matheson over at EW, I think I'll start sharing them.


Every little war matters
Ever see an interesting Billboard speaking it's message a little too loudly? Then chances are you've seen the work of the Billboard Liberation Front, attacking your visual orifices with quiet riots of the marketing sort. Here's a good'un:



For the mutants among us
People are fuckin' weird. 'Nuff said.


Consumerism- not just for the soulless anymore
Steve Olson, a blogger whose site I will assuredly begin visiting more often, has an interesting article up about an hour well spent in the Mall of America and the general vapidity and falsities of the products we as consumers crave. I'll admit it, I'm guilty of gazing up at the rail thin models in American Eagle and wishing I could don those low-rider jeans and floral tanktop as I wandered across a perpetually backlit meadow with a frozen vacant smile on my rosy lips. Instead, I suffer myself to don form flattering hipster jeans and a trusty ol' t-shirt as I stroll down a perpetually smog ridden concrete wonderland with a frozen sneer of "don't look at my iPod Mr. Scary Stranger" embedded in my dead, cold, fear-ridden eyes.

o__O

daily haiku for February 26, 2008

I keep pushing these

further back in my day. So

I should step it up

Word of the Day

behoove- (v.) to be necessary or proper for, as for moral or ethical considerations; be incumbent on.

"Britta's brandishing of the bazooka was not behooving of her stature in the workplace."

Pot...Kettle

Today when I was responding to an e-mail I typed "so BUSY!"
In actuality, it was typo'd as "so BUSTY!" but then I fixed it.

Both would have been true.

Daily Haiku for February 22, 2008

Cue: Mason and Dixon rolling in their graves.

Georgia, my stars!

Are you really creepin' North?!

Lawdy lawd, sweet pea.

!!LINK!!

Word of the Day

appetence- (n.) intense desire; strong natural craving; appetite.

"After almost all anthologies addressed Abraham's adeptness, Abigail aleviated her amorous appetence for asystematic allegories."

"I bet after seeing us, George Washington would sue us for calling him 'father'. "

The title quote is attributed to Will Rogers.

I don’t really know why the recent secession of Kosovo and the ensuing riotous Serbians have so fully captured my attention more so than the current political carnival occurring in my own backyard has been able to do thus far, yet ever since I awoke on the morning of February 17, 2008 I have been following the story adamantly. Perhaps it is the general excitement of a new country being formed and birthed while I am cognizantly aware of the positive and negative repercussions brought forward from the afterbirth.

In vein with that thought I am on the one hand extremely excited about this development in the world, this fresh blast of revolutionary air that has brought a purpose to many a stranded global soldier idling his days in the bases of Europe. Given a fresh perspective on life in former U.S.S.R. nations and the peoples wants and needs for a better way of life and taking these dreams by the reins and guiding them towards fruition.

On the other, it is a scary thing to witness- the separation of a state from its former country, the segregation and alienation of people who just the day before were countrymen. While seeing the immediate support of the US, the majority of the EU states, and few left-fielders (Turkey and Croatia) excites and intrigues me, the abrupt anger from Russia and lack of recognition from Cyprus, Greece, Spain and others interests me (as well as scares me a little). It is an exciting time we are living in, and I can only thrill that I am old enough, knowledgeable enough, and willing to pay attention to and follow the developments.

When the Cold War ended and the former Soviet Union dissipated I was all of 8 years old and cared only for the residual peace of Eternia and the autocratic government that Lion-O and his gang of feline friends were so ardently trying to establish on Third Earth. Real world politics hardly interested me. As former Yugoslavia fell apart I believe I was only vaguely aware of what was occurring in that far distant land, in countries that had no direct effect on my middle-class suburban upbringing. In 2003, when Yugoslavia officially disappeared from the map, I did not even know- so wrapped up was I in my time at UCI, dating, seeing shows, buying things; in other words, I was busy being twenty years of age.

In my selfish defense, I will say that Montenegro’s split in 2006 was something I was aware of, but not for standard reason of caring about the world. I was aware of it because of our Slavic hausfrau in Frankfurt whose family was currently living in what is now Montenegro. I’ll never forget that day I walked into the kitchen and saw Maria leaning against the kitchen sink, cell-phone in hand, with watery eyes and a distantly shocked smile. In our broken German she was able to tell me what had happened and I was able to understand the momentous occasion. For the first time in my life the goings-on in Eastern Europe affected me directly[1]. I suppose, looking back, that they have effected me all along; my dad being in the Air Force must have flown missions in Eastern Europe. My sisters and I have a sneaking suspicion that he had been to Russia in the 1980s, but this is still something he cannot honestly tell us. It has only come up in rummaging through old boxes and finding the odd Russian souvenir, Cyrillically scrawled notes dated from the early 80s, and one foggy mentioning of a winter’s eve on the streets of Moscow or St. Petersburg. Therefore, much of my childhood must have been directly aligned with the former USSR falling apart; where else would we have gotten those hand-carved and painted matryoshka dolls I so fondly remember stacking inside the other’s delicately crafted shell?

But ANYWAY, I’m wandering as I consider my own (as I’m now realizing) very Western/Eastern European upbringing. My point is, that day in June almost two years ago completely changed the way I look at the world. I had been susceptible to human suffering for sometime, been thinking about America’s effect on the world since I was in high school; but not until I actually lived elsewhere and met people from these fledgling countries clutching on the apron strings of the European Union, did I actually begin to think about them, and as Hannah Arendt said, “thinking itself is dangerous”, dangerously good.

It was in this thinking mode that I had begun to dissect the world as I knew it- pulling bits from all over the globe, places I had been, things I had seen, truths I had learned and fallacies I had realized. I began to weave these together and see, for the first time in my life, the interconnectedness of absolute being. It is a theme touched on by many a philosopher from David Loy to Daniel Altman, Ken Bell to Doctor Who; the idea that the smallest person matters, no matter how big or small[2]. Whether you write the next great American novel, or become president, or lead a revolution the size of Gambia, every single person on this planet is connected and matters in the grand scheme of things. Douglas Adams should essentially be credited as the first person to bring this idea to light in my previously pop-culturally obsessed head when he created the Earth as a massive computer and the humans populating this massive spinning hard-drive as the mere tools, the cogs and gears, working towards that final answer[3].

I once told a high school trigonometry class that we as a country are “overdue for a revolution”; a statement that they took at first to be overtly anarchic and a little atheistic, yet this is a sentiment I firmly believe. I believe that Americans as a people have gotten far too comfortable and therein lies our greatest weakness. We are growing fat off of this contentedness, slothful off of our past successes, weary to the world’s continual struggle as we exist inside this bubble of achievement given to us by a previous generation that is quickly becoming extinct, anaesthetized to the revolutionary fervor that runs through the veins of all mankind. We need a revolution, we need a riot, we need secession, and we need something to give this country life once again, something to which the up and coming class (of which I am a part) can take ownership of and be proud. To light, the closest I have seen to this in my adulthood years are the actions of people of the internet rising Anonymously to subvert the cult-like powers of Scientology. A small revolution when compared to the bravery of our grandfathers and forefathers, but a start, a positive start when taking into account the thousands of people worldwide who have contributed to the cause, nonetheless.

So back to Kosovo, this new nation born unto the world not five days ago, will it last? Will it succeed? Will it be absorbed back into the Slavic shelter of Serbia? Will civil war emerge? Will Russia make good on their threats (for fear of yet another round of post-Cold War separatism) and send Eastern Europe back into the spiraling shadows of struggle and smoke? How long will the UN aid Kosovo? How many more embassies will burn? How long with the EU continue to staff their police forces and government? What will happen? This is a very exciting time be to in, kids. That’s the only answer that currently seems acceptable. To paraphrase a sentiment I have heard many a time yet never fully understood until this past Sunday, “Ours is a very exciting time to be alive” and I could not agree more.

Americans, take note:

“What country can preserve its liberties, if its rulers are not warned from time to time that this people preserve the spirit of resistance? Let them take arms.”

-Thomas Jefferson

---

[1] Maria quickly travelled to see her family and help them build a household in their new country, thus making way for Frau ----, the woman who accused me of stealing from the Langenbucher-Adolff family.

[2] It should be noted that Dr. Seuss will also be included on this list of philosophers who discussed the interconnectedness of being. See: Horton Hears a Who; specifically the line “a person’s a person, no matter how small.”

[3] Coincidentally, this answer is “42”, Sorry to ruin it.

Daily Haiku for February 21, 2008

That Is, Of Course, If He Hadn't Frozen To Death In Goldeneye

Take that, silly world!

Southpaws are INVINCIBLE!

Boris would be proud.

Word of the Day

demiurge- (n.) a powerful creative force or personality; a supernatural being imagined as creating or fashioning the world in subordination to the Supreme Being, and sometimes regarded as the originator of evil.

"Despite Dedalus' depictions, the deliciously devilish demiurge destroyed Desmond's dwelling delightedly."

Daily Haiku for february 20, 2008

We spent the day in

the clouds. But then the rain stopped.

Global Warming, boo.

Word of the Day

cogitative- (adj.) meditating; contemplating.

"Carefully, Cora created cogitative castles calling on Clemon's clairvoyance."

Freudian Fingerslip

Sometimes when I am typing the word "security" is misspell it as "sexcurity". This amuses me.

The inside of the card reads, "Our love will evolve."

Daily Haiku for February 14, 2008

Britta's Date for V-day? The Treadmill!

Cyndi made brownies.

I shall eat one and rejoice!

Happy VD, yo.

Word of the Day

doctrinaire- (n.) a person who tries to apply some doctrine or theory without sufficient regard for practical considerations; an impractical theorist.

"Delroy deluded dogmatic deities by deigning derivitative decisions on his doctrinairial designs."

Daily Haiku for February 13, 2008

Busy, busy day.

Also, it is foggy out.

Hooray! Good weather!

Word of the Day

perdurable- (adj.) Very durable; lasting; continuing long.

"Pantheus' protagonistic parable preceeding Pandora's perdurable pandering, playing peasant to pleasant purposes."

Daily Haiku for February 12, 2008

I can haz penguin?

Now: an internet

meme for those of you savvy

enough to get it.

Word of the Day

meme- (n.) an idea, belief or belief system, or pattern of behavior that spreads throughout a culture either vertically by cultural inheritance (as by parents to children) or horizontally by cultural acquisition (as by peers, information media, and entertainment media)

"Contrary to popular belief, Britta knew quite well what an internet meme was and as such decided to emulate the infamous 'LOLcats', joining the club with a baby seal."

I can haz penguin?

Daily Haiku for February 11, 2008

I am quite hungry.

Perhaps I should have had the

oatmeal this morning.

Word of the Day

supposititious- (adj.) fraudulently substituted or pretended; spurious; not genuine.

"Serafino's supposititious slanders successfully seduced Serafina."

Workweek Playlist, Vol. 4

1. "So Alive" by Love and Rockets

2. "The Henney Buggy Band" by Sufjan Stevens

3. "Lips Like Sugar" by Echo and the Bunnymen

4. "I've Underestimated My Charm (Again)" by Black Kids

5. "Kennedy" by Ratatat

6. "Fangs on Bats" by Tullycraft

Build Me An Army Worthy of Mordor...

Be warned, shallow inhabitants of Earth. I shall rear a great Army and you shall know them by their masked eyes and burly stance. Bereaved you shall be upon witnessing the might of my PANDARMY!!!

Oh Shit, Y'all!!!

Irrefutable evidence of the existence of sand-worms and the desert planet of Arrakis. See how the sand-worm extends himself from the spice to attack the approaching Harkonnen Starship?

Suck on that, non-believers!
!!!LINK!!!

Daily Haiku for February 8, 2008

I Think Spring Is On It's Way

Walking to my car

I sidestepped a sleeping snail.

It was pretty cool.

That Is, Of Course, If Michael Eisner Can Be Believed...

And apparently

the Writer's Strike is over.

Hurrah! and all that.

Word of the Day

heteroclite- (adj.) irregular or abnormal; anomalous.

"Herodotus' heteroclitical histories helped to heave harrowed harbingers having hefted heavy humans."

It's called "priorities", kids.

So y'all hold on tight now. We gotta get those demmed Yanks to respeck us here swamp folks.

Daily Haiku for February 7, 2008

Definitely NOT Steve.

Saw my new workspace,

I shall now craft a password.

Few will be welcome.

Word of the Day

susurrus- (n.) A soft, whispering or rustling sound; a murmur.

"Celine sighed softly shuttering a soft susurrical sound satisfactorily."

Daily Haiku for February 6, 2008

Another one?!!?

People come and go

So very quickly round here

Goodbye, Melissa :(

Word of the Day

perfidious- (adj.) deliberately faithless; treacherous; deceitful.

"Piolonius' pathetic perfidiousness pre-empted Pandora's proudly preening pretention of Piolonius' palatable perfection."

Daily Haiku for February 5, 2008

Perhaps It's The Awesome Tights I'm Wearing

For some weird reason

Wearing a skirt and knee boots

Makes me smile today.

Word of the Day

apocryphal- (adj.) of doubtful authorship or authenticity.

"Ahab's apocryphal addendum's added amusing alibis to Alexandre's altruistic appedices."

"Reviews of Movies You've Already Seen"

No. 1: Shoot 'Em Up

By: Everyman

“Holy fuckin’ fuck, dude. Did you see that shit? First, that guy’s just sittin’, hangin’ out. No big deal right? Then this hot ass pregnant chick comes runnin’ down the street and DUDE, I’m tellin’ you, for a knocked-up chick, she was fuckin’ HAWT. Like that bitch from Gay’s Anatomy but, like, totally hotter. And then bad-ass Owen, man he just sits there till some skinny-ass fuck comes runnin’ after the knocked up chick. Game over, man. That dude is fuckin’ ended.

So that Owen dude, man, he just strolls right in after the skinny-fuck, and shoves a god-damned carrot into his fuckin’ eye. Shit! The he takes the gun from the pregnant bitch as all these Black Ops fucks start shooting up the place. Next thing you know Owen and the chick are running like crazy, shooting everything in sight, and she fuckin’ pops the kid out all before getting shot in the head. So Owen, he, like, takes the kid. What the fuck!? Leave that shit and run, dude! But no, takes the kid and fuckin’ jets. So that fat guy from Sideways (shuddup man, my girlfriend made me watch it. Fuck wine!) gets all pissed off and starts chasing down Clive Owen. Now, seriously? Owen is a scary fucker, all carrots and accent and fucking guns out the ASS. Why the fuck anyone would chase him, fucked if I know. BUT GET THIS. Owen goes to a whore house and starts hangin’ out with that chick from the Matrix movies. No, asshat, not Trinity. Skinny ass dyke. The chick from the second one, with the tits. Yeah, Monica Bellwhatshername. Fuckin’ HAWT, dude. Owen’s all, ‘Take the kid,’ but her fine ass won’t, so then the fat fuck comes in and starts shootin’ up the place and burning her with the barrel of his gun. DUDE, so freakin’ close to a crotch shot. Fuck yeah!

Oh man, and the cars! Fuckin’ Owen keeps stealing cars, yeah? Nothing but BMWs. Nice as hell and he destroys the FUCK outta them.

But yeah, shit goes down and they end up fucking DURING a shoot-out. Like, Big Titties is all, 'Yes! yes!' while homeboy is all, 'No you don't, fuckers!' shooting up the joint and makin' her scream. Dude is a fucking MAN's man. And I SWEAR I saw nipple, dude. Swear to effin' GAWD. Dude, fuckin' awesome movie."

Daily Haiku for February 1, 2008

Tonight, I will dine

in Hell! Well, not really, no.

Rather, my kitchen.

Word of the Day

cloyed- (v.) To cause distaste or disgust by supplying with too much of something originally pleasant, especially something rich or sweet; surfeit.

"Claudia's cloistered class crassly cloyed caffienated coffees causing caustic candors."

Oh Yes, One More Thing...

Star Wars Edition
"That's What She Said!"

clickthelinkclickthelinkclickthelinkclickthelinkclickthelinkclickthelink
clickthelinkclickthelinkclickthelinkclickthelinkclickthelinkclickthelink
clickthelinkclickthelinkclickthelinkclickthelinkclickthelinkclickthelink
clickthelinkclickthelinkclickthelinkclickthelinkclickthelinkclickthelink.

That's One Way To Start Your Friday

For the last year (almost exactly) I have started my Friday mornings by listening to Journey's "Don't Stop Believin'" as a way to stave off the end of the week malaise caused by a soul crushing job. Granted that this time last year I was working in a job I absolutely LOVED, hanging out with asshole teenagers all day and making the most obscure references possible whilst re-enacting trench and/or guerrilla warfare, but that's besides the point.

I still follow this strict Friday morning ritual, having added to the playlist the following tunes:

"Lady" by Styx
"Final Countdown" by Europe
"Any Way You Want It" by Journey
"Mr. Blue Sky" by ELO
"Come Sail Away" by Styx
and
"Cold As Ice" by Foreigner

I have also added to the mix two roommates who seem to enjoy these fist-pumping songs almost as much as I do. In fact, I find it hard to imagine any Friday morning without the scrubs laden ER Nurse and X-Ray Tech air-guitaring and jump kicking their way through the house along with my high-heeled Legal Assistant self, all of us using various kitchen utensils as microphones (I myself tend to favor the pancake spatula as I find it offers an excellent rotund shape reminiscent of the olde-timey microphones the likes of which Ella Fitzgerald and Billie Holiday once crooned their lovelies into).

This ritual, as odd as it may seem, has replaced the Early Morning Shower Concerto (See: Ferris Bueller's Day Off) and is followed by the A.M. Commute Symphony in G(as) in order to guarantee an excellent start to my Friday mornings sitting in the corner of my vanilla colored office where my co-workers seem to think I am either a) deaf, b) nonchalant and as thick-skinned as a rhinoceros, or c) so absolutely retarded that I don't know what it means when their voices drop as I enter a room and the guilty stares begin darting everywhere but to my face.

Oh yes, and things like this make my Fridays bearable as well:

That's What She Thinks or A Short Musing on Building Design in Relation To the Probability of Their Being Struck by an Aeroplane

In discussing the fact that the office of the Garcia Law Firm is located at 1 World Trade Center in Long Beach, my coworker regaled us with a story about a man who refused to deliver things to this building, requiring her to meet him at the Starbucks down the street. Now, I must admit I see the obscure reasoning behind this as since the infamous 9/11 the words "world” “trade” and “center" have struck fear into the most paranoid of hearts in these great United States of ‘Merica; what logic I find more difficult to follow is this:

“It’s not like our building is tall enough to even get struck by an airplane.”

Let us think about that statement for a moment while allowing the various images of airplanes striking low lying buildings such as tumble down shacks in Tennessee badlands, hangars in Taiwan, and four-storey government buildings in Virginia. Got those in your mind, now permanently seared into your retina? Good, so I repeat:

“It’s not like our building is tall enough to even get struck by an airplane.”

Apparently, and until now unknown to me, there exists a magical height, an optimal elevation if you will, for buildings that wish to “fly under the radar” (forgive the awfulness) of passing aeroplanes. Also, apparently, this optimal level of stories wherein a building is sure not to be struck by a mass of steel and gasoline propelling towards them at ungodly speeds is somewhere between five (the level of above ground floors of the Pentagon) and twenty-seven (the topmost floor of the Long Beach World Trade Center). According to the logic of my coworker, buildings within this range are sure never to be struck by the aforementioned mass of metal and flammable substances hurling towards them at ungodly speeds.

Therefore, the safest building height to ensure one is not brought to an early demise by a carelessly gone astray TWA flight is that of sixteen floors. Those of you working in buildings that rest below or above this limit line must forthwith begin a move towards more appropriate structures to ensure a long lived life in this wonderful country of ours. Remember, masses of metal and flammable substances hurling towards buildings are truly fickle creatures who cannot be bothered with mid-height run-of-the-mill structures. They either go for the gold of the low-lying, or the easily attainable Babellian Towers mocking the skies.

Daily Haiku for January 31, 2008

It slaughters the kidneys, Ma.

Why is it every

lady in this office likes

to eat Super Mex?

Word of the Day

opuscle- (n.) a small or minor work; a literary or musical work of small size.

"Orlando's oppressions observed obsequious ostracizations opposing opuscular orchestrations."

Daily Haiku for January 30, 2008

You know, this just puts

a big sinking feeling in

the pit of my tum.

LINK

Word of the Day

expatriate- (v.)

1.	to banish (a person) from his or her native country.

2.	to withdraw (oneself) from residence in one's native country.

3.	to withdraw (oneself) from allegiance to one's country.

"I find myself wanting to expatriate once again until this muddled mess is worked out."

Oh, CNN...

Every now and then I am happy to traipse across the frontpage of of CNN.com- on those rare days where Britney does not make the headlines, one is almost guaranteed a clever report on the balance of the international economics system, a witty tirade against a leading academic institution, or perhaps, an intelligent commentary on the current political schema of the United States:




"The Clinton's Double-Team Obama". I didn't know the Littlerock Slammer required a bonafide safety words these days. Touche, Bill. Accolades, Hillary.

CNN, you make me proud to be an American who wishes to expatriate once again. Spiegel.de, here I come.

Daily Haiku for January 25, 2008

I am not at work
today, suckers! Ha ha ha
Ha ha ha ha ha!!!

Word of the Day
proclivity- (n.) natural or habitual inclination or tendency; propensity; predisposition
"Petraus' proclivitous proclamations propounded previously proven properties."

Stick is a Dirty Rat Bastard

Daily Haiku for January 24, 2008

Mmmm...CPK

Today I choose lunch.
We shall have true wonderness.
I shall not share mine.

Word of the Day
abstemious- (adj.) sparing or moderate in eating and drinking; temperate in diet.
"Abigail's addiction to adverse abbreviates allowed for abstemiously alotted abstractions."

Jedi PostMaster

For those of you who are unawares, this year marks the 30th Anniversary of a film that took the world by storm. Star Wars, that mighty behemoth of science ficton perfection, celebrates its birthday. As such, the United States Postal Service has seen fit to ceremonialize this mighty milestone. They have scattered about the nation, in 200 cities, a tribute which will, I am sure, ignite the joys and loves of Star Wars and Post loving souls alike. Look carefully readers, for if you do, you too will see one of the 400 R2D2 mailboxes gracing corners and post offices throughout this free-loving land of ours, ever ready to receive your messages and deliver them with a care equal to that exacted upon delivering Leia's message to Obi Wan.



For those of you who choose to undertake the Quest For R2D2, here is a handy-dandy map I located on the mighty Interweb for your aid. That having been said, fare thee well Star Tourists! Go out in search of R2D2! Find him, and give him a hug to show your love and solidarity with the Rebel Alliance!

Braaaaaiiiinnnnssssss....

As I was (edit: AM) a huge fan of Danny Boyles 2002 Zombie venture, 28 Days Later, I was noticeably excited when heresay of a sequel began to rumble about a year or so ago. Well, the first trailer is up, and while it looks like the same old same old Zombie fare, I must say, I'll pay by $8.00 for this one. Maybe its merely the Zombies, maybe its the cast inclusion of Robert Carlyle and what sounds like the dulcet tones of Kelly McDonald in a VO, or maybe it's simply the beautiful use of the bombastic MUSE in the bombastic trailer. Who really knows. For those of you who are lazy, here's the trailer spot for 28 Weeks Later (oh how I love YouTube):

OkieQuest 2K7: Day One

OkieQuest 2K7: Day One
The Crusade For The Plains

8:22- We leave the house.
8:45- Stuck under the 55/5 Interchange.
8:51- See upside down car and possible death.
8:52- Finally going more than .05mph.

Our California Escape Route: 55 north-> 91 east-> 15 east-> 40 east.

9:06- Enter Riverside County. Abandon all hope.
9:21- Frau nails her funny bone on a box of Kleenex and is temporarily incapacitated.
9:35- Britta's ears pop; we enter the dreaded Cajon Pass (sadly, we are girl and have no Cajones).

9:45- PEEING. Postcard purchase #1. Gas up: $32.41
9:50- Roll out schon wieder!
9:55- Elevation 4000ft.
9:59- Elevation 4190ft.
10:24- Talk about boys. Discuss their dumbness.
10:31- Reach genesis of I-40. Officially on our way through the vast empitness of the Southwest.

10:35- Hearse.

10:37- Car Rave! Essential to desert travel.
11:02- Star Wars Disco. The desert is hot. Nothing but dirt and rocks surround us.

11:32- Still hot. Still nothing but dirt and rocks.
11:53- Talk about boys, again.
12:04- Big Eff-Off hill to the Colorado River Valley. Frau's ears pop.
12:08- We beak out the (Cheese) Nips!
12:14- Needles, CA. Britta shares a deep dark family story. We are afraid. Radio plays Bittersweet Symphony. Hurrah! Richard Ashcroft!

12:29- ARIZONA!!!



12:41- PEEING
12:58- Souixsie & The Banshees Sing-a-Long
13:30- Subway Samwiches in Kingman. Britta gets an extra cookie for FREE because she is the awesome. Frau forgets the word for "M&M" and gets an Oatmeal Raisin cookie instead.
-Pass the last In 'n' Out. We have truly left civilization for the time being until the first Sonic is sighted.
-Frau impaled by the passenger seat.

13:49- Subway had said they were out of White Chocolate Chip cookies. We realize Britta's free cookie is indeed White Chocolate Chip. Ego Boost= 10 pts.

13:56- 4000ft!
14:03- 5000ft!
14:55- Call Graham and ask which city, exactly, was built on rock 'n' roll. He decrees said metropolis is indeed Seattle.

15:35- 6000ft!
15:39- Slow Okie drivers anger us.
16:15- Scary Arizona power plant. Somewhere, Wolverine is pondering his own existence in an existential manner. Verily.

16:35- Gas, PEEING.
16:40- Roadside Dinosaurs. AWESOME!!!


16:41- We believe we have 3hrs. left until Albuquerque.
16:57- Frau "Coog'd" herself. (see: Tristram Shandy, a Cock and Bull Story)
16:58- Ash (!!) on a random CD
17:18- Horse on the roadside taking a poo.
17:28- Flaming Lips play on CD. Frau dances and claps her hands happily. Red Cliffs appear.
17:37- NEW MEXICO!!!


17:38- Train blows his whistle at us in a jovial greeting. New Mexico= Friendliest State EVAR!!!
17:42- 19:03- Talk about boys.
19:03- Road makes our bums tickle.
19:05- Almost die.
20:07- Arrive in Albuquerque.
20:21- Walk to Target. Car is overrated as of right now.
20:33- Photograph storefronts.


21:01- Return to Quality Inn & Suites to dine on Lean Cuisine.
22:33- Britta realizes she may have contracted fleas from Aubrey's cats. Pussies.
22:55- Typing.
21:00- Sleeping as if dead.

This... Is...SPAR-TAAAAAAAAAAAAARD!!

Perhaps it is because I do not find overly adorned, lean, glimmering Tranny men to be intimidating. Perhaps it is because overly CG'd movies leave me thinking, "...and?" Maybe it's because I am a girl and thus cannot possibly "get" war movies. Perhaps it's because I have yet to read Miller/Snyder's 300, thus rounding out my knowledge of all things Graphic Novel God-like-ish that is the offspring of Frank Miller.

Now let me discount a few things. I am wary of war movies after the viewing fiasco that was Gladiator. Yeah, awesome movie, blood, guts and gore abound. But what else? I am a girl, it's true, but I am also a highly critical and well versed girl who prides herself on having seen a wide multitude of films ranging from the sugary sweet cookie cutter RomComs, to the gritty Asian imports from where our current torture-porn fetish stems (The Audition, anyone?). Therefore, as a girl, I feel I actually do "get" war movies. They may not be my favorite genre as I tend towards dark humor, philosophical pieces, 80's B-movies and zombies, but I feel I have a good "judge-o-meter" if you will.

Thus, I have to say, 300 left something to be desired. It was most definitely a lot of flash and bang for my buck (or seven bucks, if we must be efficient), and it fulfilled my girlish desires to see hundreds of washboard abs running my way in tight little hot-pants continuing the wonderful sight with phallic spear thrusts. As for content, however, I felt as if the style superceded this most basic of plot motivating needs. Before you get all snippity, I realize the plot is very basic. Here it is, for those of you in the back (SPOILER ALERT. Why? Cuz I'm a jerk.):

Act I
Xerxes is a jerk. He wants Sparta because it's full of hot men and scantily clad women plucked from the premium crop of the gene pool. King Leonidus wants to fight him. He asks creepy Hills Have Eyes/Lepers from a Mel Gibson Nightmare Priests. Gratuitous soft core scene involving a pale oracle. They say no. He leaves. That dude from Mona Lisa Smile shows us he's evil. Enter dramatic irony.

Act II
Leonidus goes "walking" with 300 of the best soldiers. The Mona Lisa Dude is angry. Rawr. They meet the Acadians, who suck at war, but are good cannon fodder, to use an anachronistic phrase. Queen Gorgo is sad. She doesn't show it. Soldiers are angry when they see a body tree. They head to the Hot Gates. Enter prideful boasts on either side. Didn't these people ever read Oedipus? Agamemnon? Medea? Here's a hint: Hubris? BAD IDEA PAL. Little spat, enter King Xerxes, the kind of guy every Judith Butler reading transvestite in Manhattan aspires to be. Hubris, hubris, hubris, hubris... fight fight fight, death death death. Gorgo gets raped.

Act III
At this point is anyone really even paying attention anymore? It's one mute colored scene after another, and my eyes can only handle so much brown, gold, bronze, and scarlet before I begin to think I need to see an optometrist. Gorgo goes to the Senate and begs for troops to help. Cut back to battle and we have a highly predictable death (seriously, the youngest guy on the squad? Was that supposed to be a surprise? Maybe y'all shouldnt focus on him too much throughout the whole damn move. AND WHAT THE HELL was with the whole Gimli/Legolas report between those guys?) that incenses the men to keep fighting, but this time to take it seriously. Back at the Spartan Ranch, Whats-His-Nuts announces Gorgo is an adultress. She gets pissed and FINALLY we see what the Spartan women are so famous for. She runs him through with a thrust that would make Blackbeard squeal like an excited 13 yr old who just saw Justin Timberlake waving in the TRL window. Coins fly out of his bedsheet outfit covered in Xerxes' face. The traitorous fiend.

Meanwhile, back in the beach, the Spartans attempt one last unleashing of hell (wait... that was Gladiator...not 300. Silly me). They die an honorable death. Ho-hum.

The End.

So now that I've torn the movie apart, let me say a few more things.
1. It's not a bad movie. Not at all. It's simply that one spends the entire 117min. thinking to themself, "haven't I seen this before?"
2. I still have yet to read the graphic novel, and as is usually the case, my opinion will change upon reading it. From what I understand it was mostly taken word for word from Miller's original book and scenes.
3. I didn't care about any of the characters, or know their names, which is a major downside. If you don't care about the characters, how can you care about the plot? The Events? The Outcome?
3. Gerard Butler has definetly created a nice niche for himself in Hollywood: He goes from one homicidal cape wearing maniac in a mask to playing a homicidal cape wearing maniac in a helmet.
4. Those men had more MAC make-up on their stomachs than a Tyra Banks photo shoot.
5. This is my opinion, allow me to have it. I'll glady listen to yours.

The Top Ten List (#1)

As we were discussing the awesomely Broadway-tastic GAP commercial starring Claire Danes and Patrick Wilson, the following exchange occurred:

Me (7:51:42 PM): CURLY!!!
Me (7:51:46 PM): on broadway!!!
Frau (7:52:11 PM): oh the curly
Frau (7:53:10 PM): would you say he's the best musical romantic hero?

Which got us thinking. Who are the Top Ten Musical Romantic Heroes? Being the absolute nerd I am, I perused the annals of musical theatre and composed the following list. A few requirements:

-Romance must be involved, whether it's a happy ending or not.
-Exceptionally selfish reasons get you kicked off the list (ie. Sir Percy Blakeney)
-The musical must have been performed on Broadway (my regrets to Newsies,
State Fair and Daddy Long Legs).
- The actions of the Romantic Male Lead must fulfill the "awwwww" factor.

The Top Ten Musical Romantic Heroes

1. Curly- Oklahoma
2. Seymour- Little Shop Of Horrors
3. Tommy- Brigadoon
4. Sky Masterson- Guys 'n' Dolls
5. Arthur, Lancelot- Camelot
6. Caracatus Potts- Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
7. Petruchio- Kiss Me, Kate!
8. Oscar Lindquist- Sweet Charity
9. Sir Harry- Once Upon A Mattress
10. J. Bowden Hapgood- Anyone Can Whistle

any thoughts? nominees?

No Mr. Bond, I expect you to die!

I understand the topic surrounding this picture is serious and somber, and the mistreatment of anyone who has been hospitalized is a heinous act, but seriously, when your defendant looks like a Bond Villian from Thunderball...or Danger Mouse, I simply cannot take you seriously.





HE'S TERRIFIC,
HE'S MAGNIFIC,
HE'S THE GREATEST SECRET AGENT IN THE WORLD. DANGERMOUSE, POWER HOUSE.