Vegan cat food? Seriously? It’s bad enough people have to neuter themselves, but to do the same to their vicious predator pets? Does their madness never stop? (Blame this on K.L. and me browsing The Wikipedia tonight.)
Since K.L. and I started hanging out on a regular basis, we’ve had a sort of war of words going on. She pronounces a number of words in a manner I find peculiar and, apparently, I pronounce some works “wrong” as far as she’s concerned. Tonight, we had dinner at Duke’s Chowder House with her parents (which seemed to go well, by the way) both Seattle Brother and her dad got some kind of gnocchi dish. Her brother botched the word to start saying noa-chie and then K.L. corrected him, pronouncing the word as noa-kie. I interjected that it wasn’t pronounced that way either and pronounced it properly with nyah-kie. As always this turned into some kind of ridiculous debate that was to be settled later. Upon returning back to the place we’re staying, I headed over to the handy dandy Merriam-Webster dictionary which has an audio sample of the proper pronunciation.
Washington becomes #22 on the visited states list as of today. K.L. and I flew in today and, aside from an experience much like one documented earlier when I was in Salt Lake City, there weren’t any major bumps getting here. This trip is not what I would call a regularly scheduled vacation. It’s actually a trip with a purpose. K.L.’s middle brother, whom she refers to as the “Seattle Brother,” lives here and her parents and oldest brother, referred to as the “Weird Brother,” are flying in tomorrow so I can meet everyone. The trip, so far as I know, was not planned with me in mind specifically but it works out that I get to meet everyone. Whether this is a good or bad thing, I do not know yet.
So, there is a sort of internet truth out there that I have been witness to tonight: What has been seen, cannot be unseen. (Please refer to fig. 1 for a visual example of this truth.)
It began with Boas and me discussing nothing of importance, as we tend to do after a few rounds of Dawn of War. I was talking about The Dark Knight and then wondered if Iron Man was still showing at any theater around here. It wasn’t, but over the course of looking over movies I started reading reviews of the latest work by the man responsible for retroactively raping my childhood. I saw a few gave it an “F” and as such, I had to read those.
I found this gem by Roger Ebert while reading. This quote, in particular is the stuff legends are made of:
You know you’re in trouble when the most interesting new character is Jabba the Hutt’s uncle. The big revelation is that Jabba has an infant to be kidnapped. The big discovery is that Hutts look like that when born, only smaller. The question is, who is Jabba’s wife? The puzzle is, how do Hutts copulate? Like snails, I speculate. If you don’t know how snails do it, let’s not even go there. The last thing this movie needs is a Jabba the Hutt sex scene.
Unfortunately, Boas decided that I really needed to know precisely how snails copulated, so he sent me a link to some really weird dramatic interpretation on the subject, Green Porno. Click “now showing” and watch. It’s office safe too, as long as the people around you won’t die if they hear the word “anus.” Don’t worry, while it will burn an image in your mind, it’s no Goatse. It’s more weird than anything else.
So, now I know how snails do it. Earthworms too. What has been seen, cannot be unseen.
I finally got around to seeing The Dark Knight last night with K.L. (As a side note, K.L. and I had dinner after the fact at the Elephant Bar, the place where we had our first dinner together.) The odds of me actually seeing a movie I’m dying to see anywhere near opening day are pretty slim and this one was no exception. I still haven’t seen Iron Man and I didn’t see Batman Begins until it was released on DVD. Being the filthy critic that I am and because I haven’t really been able to discuss it with anyone, this will be a sort of review of the movie. Let me just say, if you haven’t seen it yet, don’t read this.
I was trying to figure out how to open this entry and I thought, “Eh, just skip trying. Let’s just dive into the meat.” So, for your viewing displeasure, I submit to you the following music video by Dennis Madalone:
The self-proclaimed “most downloaded Music Video on the internet.”
I’m sure, if you wasted the 5 minutes necessary to ingest this monstrosity, you’re thinking something similar to what I though: “What the hell?” This was followed by, “I should kill Boas for sending me this, but… misery loves company.” I would have done the same, as I’m doing right now by sharing this with you, so I guess I can’t actually strangle him.
So, how do you like them apples?
Every time a car dies I try and diagnose it myself before it goes to a mechanic in hopes that I can fix it or convince myself the problem is minor up until I get the call from my mechanic saying, “Yeah, I hope you have good credit.” When my car failed to start the other day, I did the same thing. This time, however, it wasn’t some vain hope.
With the help of one of my mom’s friends we diagnosed some sensors as being the problem and, even better, they didn’t need to be replaced. They just needed some cleaning. So, good news there.
Tonight I was talking about a certain college quarterback whose current misfortune amuses me greatly. Once I’d completed my usual snide and sarcastic ridicule of his broken foot, my dad made a strange comment; he said, “Well, some people don’t fear God. I do.” I pressed him for the relevance and we talked, but I couldn’t help but feel the comment was directed at me. Mind you, it may not have been and it could be my own paranoia talking, but regardless, it got me thinking about today.
Had today happened a year ago, I would have started madly analyzing my life trying to figure out what was wrong with me or I would have simply singled out things that I felt were less than stellar about my religious life and presumed they were the reason God was punishing me. It’s strange, but while I’ve always felt God was an extremely distant figure in terms of things like listening to my prayers, I’ve always felt as if He was very close in terms of exacting punishment on me. Don’t ask me why because I don’t understand why I’ve felt that way. While I was raised religious, the concept of the vengeful and/or jealous god was anything but ingrained in my teachings. It probably has something to do with my own vicious and judgmental nature as well as how brutally critical I’ve always been of myself.
Thanks to the current recession—especially in the real estate market in Nevada—work has dried up which is the cause of considerable stress. I’m certainly not alone in this regard and I’m sure I’ll pull through. I always have. Today added insult to injury though. My car failed to start. (Actually, it starts fine, it just dies right after that.) It’s extra stress at a time when I don’t need nor want the pressure, but you know what? Shit happens. It happens to every one. Once it happens, you either have to deal with it or run from it or whatever. I’m annoyed and it sucks. Case closed.
I’ve been in a number of relationships over the course of my 28 years—about 10 of which have been spent inside the confines of a romantic affair. During the course of such things, I’ve been called by many terms of endearment and been described in many ways. Before K.L. I would describe most of these as traditional. There was honey and dear and even darling from time to time. I was cute and I was a dork. I was a lot of things, some so dripping with sap it makes me sick to think about them. Even the worst of those were still variations on what most people would consider typical.
The rules have changed.
Once I was sweetie and now I am… catfish. That’s right, catfish. Why? Apparently, when I lay down, I’m like a catfish at the bottom of a river or a lake or something similar. That is, of course, unless I’m laying on top of K.L. in some manner at which time I become “like a cod” instead since codfish swim higher than catfish typically do. My back is like a fish fillet or something like that. I don’t really know since I make little attempt to make sense of K.L.’s statements on this subject.
The fun doesn’t stop there. Various parts of my body have their own comparisons that have nothing to do with anything fishy. In fact, it’s generally poultry of some sort. My hands are like chicken wings as are my arms as a whole. My finger tips escape the chicken theme and are regarded as grapes. I also seem to have a pair of turkey legs too. There was also one occasion where I was described as looking like a cow when I had my head looking over a pillow at her.
This isn’t normal. This isn’t to say I’m in search of normal but K.L., as always, insists that anything she does is typical and that there are probably many other people out there that share in her particular eccentricities. There aren’t, and I mean to say that definitively.