Wednesday...
I spent a few hours yesterday prepping my apartment for this Saturday's life-experience milestone--my first hosted dinner party. Some of my old Notre Dame teacher chums are converging at my place for Japanese cuisine potluck. As host, I'm proving the sushi--or rather, I'm buying the ingredients. My ex-girlfriend is the one who is actually creating the sushi, which is a good thing for all parties involved.
Anyhow, I did yeoman's service with my living room yesterday night, dusting everything but the dinner table (which will get a once-over after I put in the two leaves) and shelving all of my stray books--which is no trivial task, if you know me. I still have to vacuum, mop, and clean the bathroom and kitchen, but there's still time. While my apartment wasn't quite in the realm of "Buddhist monk who refused to bathe for the last 20 years," this current flurry of cleaning is nothing if not very well-deserved.
I managed to miss not one but both of the free ice cream days this week, and I feel like quite the schmuck. Luckily, my friend Kelle granted me an unexpected boon of four individually-wrapped Mrs. Fields cookies, so I was able to compensate with empty calories from another source and keep the universe balanced.
Check out this trailer for "Comedian," the Jerry Seinfeld movie. I'll see the movie based on the humor of the trailer alone--which has, it's significant to mention, nothing to do with the actual film.
Because it's ever so cool, I recently bought a lead musket ball from Daniel Frank Sedwick, a professional numismatist who specializes in shipwreck/nautical items. My musket ball is an artifact from one of eleven Spanish ships that sank on their way from Havana to Spain on July 31, 1715. The ball is about 5/8ths of an inch in diameter, and weighs 22.3 grams. To pick it up and toss it from one palm to the other, I can't get over how heavy it feels. Differences of weapon accuracy and firing power aside, one of those things would have done some very bad things to anybody who got hit with one. At $7, I couldn't have asked for a more reasonable price. For the amateur collector who is happy to have whatever piece of history he can afford, it seemed a good investment.
Posted by patrick at 01:21 AM | Comments (2)
April 23, 2004
Cars, cars, cars...
I'm hoping to get my oil changed in about five hours, at 7 a.m., at the Riverside Saturn dealership. If it can't happen in the 45-minute window between 7 a.m. and a quarter to eight, I'll have to drive the following before I can have it changed--and it's already a bit overdue, which isn't particularly reassuring when the car in question is at 158,000 miles:
Riverside to Universal City
Universal City to Venice
Venice to Santa Barbara
Santa Barbara to Venice
Venice to Rancho Cucamonga
Rancho Cucamonga to North Hollywood
North Hollywood to Riverside
It's also worth mentioning that all that driving will be taking place in the next 48 hours, but that's almost too daunting to think about.
When I was looking around the Riverside Saturn website for their hours of operation, I happened upon a link for the Kelley Blue Book. Apparently, my '93 Saturn would fetch about $1,140 as a trade-in, and about $3,485 if I were to try and sell it on my own. The KBB states that dealer trade-ins fetch so much less because the dealership has to sink money into getting the car resale-ready. With a difference of about $2,300, it makes me wonder how much a dealer could command for a car like mine as a pre-owned.
Looking at the pre-owned cars listed on the Riverside Saturn site made me feel a bit better about my current car's inevitable, eventual demise. There are entirely reasonable used cars out there, only a few years old, and not so overloaded with miles as to make the purchase an exercise in futility. In our "consumer as caste" system, I'm more than happy to put the stigma of the pre-owned anything to my benefit--be it cars, jeans, books, or furniture.
Posted by patrick at 02:05 AM | Comments (2)
April 21, 2004
A Tuesday night update...
I saw "The Punisher" last Saturday afternoon. Frankly, consider me punished. I don't often get this vibe, but I really felt like the movie suffered more from bad directing than anything else. The script was no gem, admittedly, but it seemed like the variety of things that were going wrong (from shots framed in a confusing way to acting choices) all pointed to a poorly-helmed project. Too bad, since I think Thomas Jane could do well for himself under better circumstances.
Luckily, the day was redeemed with a Taiko concert at UCR. At $6, it was a steal, and now I'm all fired up about Taiko drumming. I can't take the class, as it overlaps my screenwriting workshop perfectly, but I'm going to try and get involved with the on-campus club. It's too late for this year, but I might be able to join them during the summer. At any rate, this will have to be a more successful venture than my attempt to teach myself to play the standard rock-band drum-kit back in college. I couldn't manage to play the drums and pedals at different rhythms, and ended up selling the drum-kit to another guy who worked at the Highlander.
I was doing my usual bippin' and boppin' around the internet earlier today, and stumbled upon the news that Falco of "Rock Me, Amadeus" fame had died in a traffic accident in 1998. Not only didn't I know that Falco was the name of an individual instead of the name of a band, but I had no idea that Falco (however many of them) had died. I don't know jack about Falco, obviously enough, but the idea that they were a he--and a dead he, no less!--without my knowing disturbs me.
Apropos of nothing, April 28 (next Wednesday) is Free Ice Cream Night at Baskin-Robbins. The Ben and Jerry's Free Cone Day seems to shift around the calendar, so I'm not sure when to expect it. If you know, please share the info; we'd all be grateful.
According to IMDB.com, Sarah Michelle Gellar was banned from McDonald's as a kid: "When I was five I did a commercial for Burger King. McDonalds were so outraged, they sued Burger King and named me in the lawsuit. I wasn't allowed to eat there. It was tough, because, when you're a little kid, McDonald's is where all your friends have their birthday parties, so I missed out on a lot of apple pies." Um...did she think McDonald's had mailed her photo to all the restaurants? They're not Checkpoint Charlie, Sarah. It would have been okay to just slip in and buy your damn Happy Meal.
You know who else has been missing their greasy fries? Me. I've started going to the gym. Granted, this experiment only started on April 10th, and I've only been to the gym five times so far, and I only do the exercise bike and treadmill because I want to start small. Any time I've tried making the gym a good habit in the past, I've gone, hurt myself by being way too gung-ho, and never returned. This time, I'm trying to err on the side of caution.
I will leave you with Strindberg and Helium, the funniest thing I've seen all week. I was introduced to it during a break in my VO work yesterday, and felt duty-bound to share it with the world.
Posted by patrick at 12:32 AM | Comments (2)
April 17, 2004
"Mistah Kurtz--he dead. Baaaaaa!"
This is what happens when it's late at night and I convince myself that I'm clever...
Posted by patrick at 01:47 AM | Comments (2)
April 14, 2004
Words, words...words!
I found an old index card in my secondhand copy of "After Many a Summer Dies the Swan" with three words written on it--words a previous owner meant to look up and never did, or so I'm assuming. Here's my good deed for the day:
Bumptious – crudely or loudly assertive; pushy.
A fortiori – for a still stronger reason; all the more.
Serendipity – the faculty of making fortunate discoveries by accident.
And, so long as we're on the topic of words, here's my latest batch from the Webster's Dictionary:
Acyrology – faulty diction.
Adactylism – congenital lack of fingers or toes
Ad captandum vulgus – to please and catch the crowd.
Addorsed – in heraldry, placed back to back, as two animals or figures.
Adelantado – formerly, a Spanish title for a governor of a province; a lieutenant governor; a commander.
Ademption – in law, the revocation of a grant, donation, or the like.
Adhamant – holding tightly, as by hooks.
Adipocere – a fatty or waxy substance of a light brown color into which the muscular fibers of dead animal bodies are converted by long exposure to moisture.
Ad libitum – as one desires; at pleasure; as much as one pleases.
Adoptionist – in ecclesiastical history, one who maintained that Jesus was the son of God by adoption only.
Ad patres – to one’s fathers; dead.
Adulterine – in law, a child issuing from an adulterous relationship.
Advowson – in English law, a right of presentation to a vacant benefice; a right of nominating a person as rector or vicar of a vacant parish.
Aerarian – A Roman citizen of the lowest class of freemen, who paid only a poll tax and was not qualified to vote.
Affy – to betroth; to bind or join.
Aflatoxin – any of several carcinogenic substances produced by a fungus found especially on peanuts.
Aftermath – a second crop of grass in the same season; hence, a result, usually an unpleasant one.
Agonal – in medicine, of or pertaining to the death agony.
Posted by patrick at 01:30 AM | Comments (1)
April 10, 2004
Arrrrrr! Pirate jokes a-plenty, matey!
Who's up for some lame pirate jokes? All of these are original, to my knowledge--I wouldn't be surprised if similar flashes of pirate humor brilliance had already manifested themselves to others, independently of my having thought of them.
Where do pirates keep their records?
In the arrrrr-chives.
What kills most pirates?
Hardening of the arrrrrrr-teries.
How do pirates feel about their ships?
Arrrrrr-dently.
What do pirate children ask their parents during a long sea-trip?
"Arrrrrre we there yet?"
Who is a pirate's favorite action star?
Arrrrrrr-nold Schwartzenegger.
What is a pirate's favorite high school activity?
ArrrrrrOTC.
Who is a pirate's favorite Greek goddess?
Arrrrrrr-temis.
What’s a pirate's favorite play?
“Arrrrrr Town”.
Which band is a pirate's favorite
Arrrrr.E.M. (unless he's an older pirate, in which case he prefers ArrrrEO Speedwagon).
What's a pirate's favorite song?
Aretha Franklin's "Arrrrr-E-S-P-E-C-T".
Who's a pirate's favorite "Star Wars" character?
Arrrrr2-D2
Don't let me have all the fun. Share your favorite pirate jokes, original or otherwise.
Posted by patrick at 05:26 AM | Comments (6)
April 08, 2004
No more sperm for you, Michelle Duggar...
"One woman in the United States gives birth every ten minutes. We must find her and stop her."
I've always enjoyed that old joke. Now I know the name of the woman on whom that joke should have been based--Michelle Duggar.
Duggar received Arkansas's Young Mother award yesterday. The 37-year-old Duggar started having kids when she was 21, four years into her marriage. Since then, she's spent 11 of the last 16 years pregnant. She has 14 kids: Joshua, Jana, John-David, Jill, Jessa, Jinger, Joseph, Josiah, Joy-Anna, Jeremiah, Jedidiah, Jason, James, and Justin. Lucky number 15, currently in his third trimester, will be named Jackson.
Based on those names, you probably think I'm making this up. If I hadn't gotten this straight from the Associated Press, I wouldn't believe it, either.
Frankly, I see this as a scenario deserving of censure, not praise. How much of a parent-child relationship can you hope to foster with any one kid when there are that many of them among whom to divide your time? Who told these people that quantity trumped quality with reference to parenthood?
"We’re letting the Lord give us the gifts that he wants to give us and I'm open to more gifts," Duggar is quoted as having said. She's certainly open to something. To hear her describe the situation, it almost sounds as if her husband, Jim Bob, plays no active role in conception at all. He admits to playing no role in the decision-making process: "I’ve always left it up to her and she’s always wanted more children," he said.
Why? Why does she feel compelled to collect offspring like kitschy plates from the Franklin Mint?
The couple used birth-control pills for the first four years of their marriage. "Then," said Jim Bob, "we ended up giving this area of our life to God."
Hey, Jim Bob—God called, and he wants you and Michelle to take it back. He's tired of playing Missile Command in her fallopian tubes, and not terribly good at it.
I hope the Duggars are planning to form a family militia. At least then their unchecked fecundity would serve some marginally rational purpose.
Am I off-base in thinking there’s something terribly wrong and irresponsible about all this?
If anybody deserves a mothering award, it's this woman. Having lost a previous child to labor complications, this 40-year-old woman--who, for the record, lives in a rural part of Mexico with no modern amenities and eight hours from the nearest hospital--performed a C-section on herself with a kitchen knife when she couldn't deliver the baby naturally.
Beat that, Duggars!
Posted by patrick at 03:47 AM | Comments (37)
April 05, 2004
Huzzah for Horton the Hampster...
I zipped down to the local Starbucks late last night for a cup of liquid Muse. I have a ten-page playwriting assignment due tomorrow, and as of yesterday evening, I hadn't done jack. I had eight pages done by this afternoon, and then randomly ran into my playwriting professor when I was out this afternoon. He told me I needed between five and ten pages, so even though I've met my page requirement, I haven't followed the story arc of my mini-play to its conclusion. I've gone from having zero pages out of a required ten, to having eight pages out of a required ten, to having eight pages out of a required five. Next, I'll probably discover that it's not due until Thursday.
Anyhow, when I was at Starbucks last night, I took a moment to peruse the walls while they were making my drink. Somebody had posted work from one of the local elementary schools. One of the kindergartners had written the following in large, shaky letters underneath a scribbled blob of green, brown, and purple crayon:
I like my hampster.
It is a baby. It
is gray with a
black stripe. His
name is Horton.
Maybe it was the hour, or my own writer's block, or a moment of sappy childhood nostalgia, but I couldn't get over the simplicity--the beauty--of it. This kindergartner had written without fear of censure, and without editing her thoughts. The hamster didn't look much like a hamster. The drawing didn't even correspond to the colors listed in the description, for that matter. Still, this kindergarten assignment reminded me of the time in my life before I had come to second-guess my own words so severely.
Then again, the kindergartner’s words looked like they'd been written only with much concentration and labor--whereas I can touch-type about 90 words per minute. Maybe that's the trade-off. The older you get, the harder it is to come up with anything to say, but the easier it is to say it. By that logic, maybe the ideas will come easier when I'm old and arthritic. Or maybe that'll just be the senility talking...
Apropos of nothing, I came across the following two quotes yesterday:
There’s no thief like a bad book. – Italian proverb
I have never seen a greater monster or miracle than myself. - Montaigne (1533-1592)
Montaigne never saw the multicolored Horton, obviously...
Posted by patrick at 04:19 PM | Comments (1)
April 04, 2004
And the dictionary quest begins...
I've finally started a task I've meant to undertake for a few years now--to read my Webster’s New Twentieth Century Dictionary (Unabridged) in search of unknown and exciting words. I've only just begun, but I've already uncovered the following beauties:
Abacinate – to destroy the sight of by placing a red-hot copper basin close to the eyes.
Abactor – in law, one who steals herds of cattle, in distinction from one who steals a head or two.
Abbozzo – a rough sketch or outline of anything, as of a picture or a poem; a preliminary draft.
Absinthism – absinthe poisoning, a diseased condition caused by habitually drinking too much absinthe.
A capriccio – in music at pleasure; at whatever tempo and with whatever expression the performer likes.
Accloy – to fill; to stuff; to fill to satiety.
Accolent – one who dwells near by; a neighbor.
Acerval – pertaining to a heap.
Achilous – in anatomy and botany, possessing no lips or only rudimentary ones.
Acinaciform – in botany, formed like or resembling a scimitar.
Aclys – an ancient weapon consisting of a short club studded with sharp points and attached to a cord, which enabled the thrower to draw it back after having launched it against an enemy.
I'll try to remember to post each day's most interesting words on here for public consumption.
Posted by patrick at 12:46 AM | Comments (0)