I've watched a few movies lately that, while clearly not for everyone, I actually found pretty funny.
The Promotion - is about a recently married grocery store assistant manager who is looking to make it to the big time: to be promoted to manager. Just when it looks like he's got the job, a French-Canadian rival shows up, and crazy hijinks ensue.
The Love Guru - I'm not usually much of a Mike Myers guy, but this one also featured a Quebecois in the antagonist role, made me laugh a few times and, mostly, made me remember how much I really, really, really miss real hockey. Plus it has a fantastic Bollywood-ish ending. Slightly less toilet-humor than his other outings, which is a nice change.
You Don't Mess With The Zohan - not quite what I had anticipated in terms of plot (okay, "plot"...) but actually did make me laugh several times. Predictably offensive (Adam Sandler), it started with me wondering how Palestinians felt about it. It left me pretty sure that no one who takes themselves seriously would feel that good about it, Palestinian or otherwise. Still, some funny moments.
I think it might be time for something blowing up, right after I get through the second disk of my camera one. By the way, one point I would like to clarify there: when I said they had women to explain how to attach the strap and so on, I didn't mean like Italian game show women. Best guess is that she came with the guy with the safarri hat, but didn't have the good fortune to have brought her own. Maybe in disk two - I'll keep you posted.
Showing posts with label humor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label humor. Show all posts
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Wow
Well, this is easily the worst thing I've seen in a long, long time.
Some background: "Nouvelle Star" is like a reality pop star training camp, in French. They have churned out some true trash over the last few years, but I think this one should be worth a nomination for some kind of award or something. Just wait until you hear the choral backup vocals on the chorus....
And yes, they are playing this on music video channels here. When you hear people talking about the fantastic, hot European music scene, I suggest you direct them to this; then tell them you'll never question anything they ever say again if they can keep it in their iPod's top 10 for a month.
Some background: "Nouvelle Star" is like a reality pop star training camp, in French. They have churned out some true trash over the last few years, but I think this one should be worth a nomination for some kind of award or something. Just wait until you hear the choral backup vocals on the chorus....
And yes, they are playing this on music video channels here. When you hear people talking about the fantastic, hot European music scene, I suggest you direct them to this; then tell them you'll never question anything they ever say again if they can keep it in their iPod's top 10 for a month.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
I'd Like To Thank My Agent, God, and the Guy Who Planted Me
It is the year of the potato. And we have little creams in our coffee room to prove it.
Now, I like potatoes. I would doubt, actually, that you can find many people who like potatoes more than I do, and my family will back me up on this one. But the year of the potato? Seems a bit much, really. And it leaves me with a few questions:
1. Who decides this? It seems to be the UN, but beyond that, who knows? I mean, is it a committee? One guy in a little room somewhere? Was there a vote, and I just missed it? How do we know that the process has been fair - has there been any international oversight? At least a conference? If there's one organization who should understand a request to have the process monitored, it's the UN.
Oh, and if it's one guy in a little room somewhere, is he the one in Nashville who writes all the country music? Because that seems like he would have enough on his plate already without being responsible for things like this.
2. What's the competition based on? Potatoes are filling, and they are tasty and nourishing when prepared in a variety of ways, and if you spread one out over a plate it provides plenty of surface to hold cheese and bacon bits and whatever else you may want to toss on, but I'm not sure any of those warrant an award like this. Is it just running with other tubers? In that case, I can see it - frankly, between potatoes, carrots, and turnips I don't think you're going to get much argument.
But what if it's all foods? How do you put potatoes up against crême brulée? Or even steak? Have you noticed that it's never "potatoes and steak"? Yeah, well... there's a reason. And it could even go beyond that... can you imagine the panel sitting down, and the chairman saying, "okay, it looks like this year it's going to be a tough call: it's between potatoes, the Toyota Prius, global warming, and puppies." How do you vote on that?
3. A whole year?!? Even if the process is fair and the title is well-deserved, a year still seems like a little much. It's not as if potatoes are that new... we don't have a whole lot of educating to do here - I think that the market is already pretty well-developed. I would think Potato Month would be generous enough (though that would bring up the whole sticky issue of which one to choose) and maybe Potato Week would even do the trick. I would celebrate Potato Week, but the thought of dedicating a whole year to it leaves me just a little overwhelmed.
I don't know. But it is making me hungry.
For steak.
Now, I like potatoes. I would doubt, actually, that you can find many people who like potatoes more than I do, and my family will back me up on this one. But the year of the potato? Seems a bit much, really. And it leaves me with a few questions:
1. Who decides this? It seems to be the UN, but beyond that, who knows? I mean, is it a committee? One guy in a little room somewhere? Was there a vote, and I just missed it? How do we know that the process has been fair - has there been any international oversight? At least a conference? If there's one organization who should understand a request to have the process monitored, it's the UN.
Oh, and if it's one guy in a little room somewhere, is he the one in Nashville who writes all the country music? Because that seems like he would have enough on his plate already without being responsible for things like this.
2. What's the competition based on? Potatoes are filling, and they are tasty and nourishing when prepared in a variety of ways, and if you spread one out over a plate it provides plenty of surface to hold cheese and bacon bits and whatever else you may want to toss on, but I'm not sure any of those warrant an award like this. Is it just running with other tubers? In that case, I can see it - frankly, between potatoes, carrots, and turnips I don't think you're going to get much argument.
But what if it's all foods? How do you put potatoes up against crême brulée? Or even steak? Have you noticed that it's never "potatoes and steak"? Yeah, well... there's a reason. And it could even go beyond that... can you imagine the panel sitting down, and the chairman saying, "okay, it looks like this year it's going to be a tough call: it's between potatoes, the Toyota Prius, global warming, and puppies." How do you vote on that?
3. A whole year?!? Even if the process is fair and the title is well-deserved, a year still seems like a little much. It's not as if potatoes are that new... we don't have a whole lot of educating to do here - I think that the market is already pretty well-developed. I would think Potato Month would be generous enough (though that would bring up the whole sticky issue of which one to choose) and maybe Potato Week would even do the trick. I would celebrate Potato Week, but the thought of dedicating a whole year to it leaves me just a little overwhelmed.
I don't know. But it is making me hungry.
For steak.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
It Was the Best of Times; It Was the Worst of Times
And, as usual, it's all about clothes.
I had been thinking, while I was in the Czech Republic, of my "I Survived Dance Camp" tee shirt. Katie had found a vintage store she was rather fond of, and I mentioned that I usually go to a shop in Calgary that could not really, even very charitably, be described as vintage. Or even "second hand". It's "used", plain and simple.
There is a lot of crap there. If you don't mind (and I don't) going through 300 hangers to find one shirt that you couldn't get anywhere else, it's a great place. And I have some wonderful, wonderful shirts that I've picked up there. While I was reminiscing about some of my favorites, I realized that it had been ages since I wore the simple black tee with white lettering kind of scrolled along it: I Survived Dance Camp. Now, since I've turned into a dance machine, some of the irony has worn off, but it's still a fantastic shirt. I wondered where it had gone.
And there was another one I had been missing, too. It has the brother from Napoleon Dynamite in kind of a crudely-drawn coat of arms, and in a banner scrolling above and below his picture, it says "I'm training to become a cage fighter". I saw the shirt before I had any idea of the movie, and, even so, it was the funniest thing I had ever seen on something I could wear. I lent it to Josh when he used that movie as a theme for one of the YFC service projects that he organized. To be fair, it took him a while to get it back, but I seem to have forgotten when he did, because I asked him about it just a few months ago.
Anyways, I decided to go through my tees today to see if I could find "Dance Camp" and, sure enough, "Cage Fighter" was right there with it. Wonderful, wonderful news. And Josh, if you're reading, I'm sorry for not remembering that you had given it back. I shouldn't have doubted you.
Thus ends the "best of times".
On the other end of the fashion-induced euphoria spectrum, I seem to have lost my favorite boxers. Now this both troubles and puzzles me. Troubles, obviously, because they were my favorites, and I'm sad not to have them in my life any more. Puzzles, because, unlike an umbrella, or a book, or a scarf, it seems like underwear should be a rather difficult thing to misplace. It's not like I'm taking them off indiscriminately, deciding that it's a bit too stuffy, and leaving them on the bus seat next to me.
I'm not sure where they could have gone.
While we're still trying to nail down the finer points of the terminology, the little chick's fascination with panties is such that, if she came across them, she wouldn't have hidden them somewhere. I'm quite sure she would have brought them promptly to my attention.
So, I haven't given up hope, but I'm not sure what else to do. I even checked on the back of the door in the little bathroom.
Nothing.
Rats. I guess I'm going to go train to be a cage fighter.
I had been thinking, while I was in the Czech Republic, of my "I Survived Dance Camp" tee shirt. Katie had found a vintage store she was rather fond of, and I mentioned that I usually go to a shop in Calgary that could not really, even very charitably, be described as vintage. Or even "second hand". It's "used", plain and simple.
There is a lot of crap there. If you don't mind (and I don't) going through 300 hangers to find one shirt that you couldn't get anywhere else, it's a great place. And I have some wonderful, wonderful shirts that I've picked up there. While I was reminiscing about some of my favorites, I realized that it had been ages since I wore the simple black tee with white lettering kind of scrolled along it: I Survived Dance Camp. Now, since I've turned into a dance machine, some of the irony has worn off, but it's still a fantastic shirt. I wondered where it had gone.
And there was another one I had been missing, too. It has the brother from Napoleon Dynamite in kind of a crudely-drawn coat of arms, and in a banner scrolling above and below his picture, it says "I'm training to become a cage fighter". I saw the shirt before I had any idea of the movie, and, even so, it was the funniest thing I had ever seen on something I could wear. I lent it to Josh when he used that movie as a theme for one of the YFC service projects that he organized. To be fair, it took him a while to get it back, but I seem to have forgotten when he did, because I asked him about it just a few months ago.
Anyways, I decided to go through my tees today to see if I could find "Dance Camp" and, sure enough, "Cage Fighter" was right there with it. Wonderful, wonderful news. And Josh, if you're reading, I'm sorry for not remembering that you had given it back. I shouldn't have doubted you.
Thus ends the "best of times".
On the other end of the fashion-induced euphoria spectrum, I seem to have lost my favorite boxers. Now this both troubles and puzzles me. Troubles, obviously, because they were my favorites, and I'm sad not to have them in my life any more. Puzzles, because, unlike an umbrella, or a book, or a scarf, it seems like underwear should be a rather difficult thing to misplace. It's not like I'm taking them off indiscriminately, deciding that it's a bit too stuffy, and leaving them on the bus seat next to me.
I'm not sure where they could have gone.
While we're still trying to nail down the finer points of the terminology, the little chick's fascination with panties is such that, if she came across them, she wouldn't have hidden them somewhere. I'm quite sure she would have brought them promptly to my attention.
So, I haven't given up hope, but I'm not sure what else to do. I even checked on the back of the door in the little bathroom.
Nothing.
Rats. I guess I'm going to go train to be a cage fighter.
Friday, October 26, 2007
Humo(u)r
I've realized that I've become afraid to use the "humor" label on my posts. Part of it may be that, in retrospect, I'm ashamed of using the American spelling (no offense, Americans). But I think that most of is that I'm a little concerned someone will get onto my blog and do a search on it.
Then they'll sit back, cross their arms, and read.
Unimpressed.
"I don't see what's so funny about that," they'll say, reaching for some more lemon rind. "Hurrumph."
On the other hand, if they're not expecting anything to be really very clever, even just a little bit of wit can be rather impressive.
So, if you've searched and just found this, I'm sorry. But if you keep digging, you never know what you may find.
Then they'll sit back, cross their arms, and read.
Unimpressed.
"I don't see what's so funny about that," they'll say, reaching for some more lemon rind. "Hurrumph."
On the other hand, if they're not expecting anything to be really very clever, even just a little bit of wit can be rather impressive.
So, if you've searched and just found this, I'm sorry. But if you keep digging, you never know what you may find.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Blades Of Glory
Some say it sucks. I say it has Will Farrell.
Hector: "Hey, Jimmy"
Jimmy: "Hector? What are you doing here? You know I have a restraining order against you..."
Hector [laughing nervously]: "Oh that thing? [pauses]... You look great, Jimmy. You look amazing, and your hair rocks..."
Jimmy: "Thanks"
Hector: "You look so good... oh my gosh. Do you look at yourself? I totally want to cut off your skin and wear it to my birthday... it's coming up"
Jimmy: "Yeah, listen, it's good to see you Hector, but I'm really busy right now"
Hector: "I'm sorry, I'll cut to the chase. You've got to start skating again, Jimmy."
Jimmy: "What?"
Hector: "It's embarrassing stalking a has-been, you know what I mean? Look, I almost gave up on you. I started stalking that Ukrainian skater, you know, the one that looks like Elvis? I moved to the Ukraine. It was cold, and everyone had guns and smelled like soup."
Jimmy: "I sympathize with you Hector, I really do, but there's nothing I can do. I'm banned for life...."
You should see it. Preferably with me.
Hector: "Hey, Jimmy"
Jimmy: "Hector? What are you doing here? You know I have a restraining order against you..."
Hector [laughing nervously]: "Oh that thing? [pauses]... You look great, Jimmy. You look amazing, and your hair rocks..."
Jimmy: "Thanks"
Hector: "You look so good... oh my gosh. Do you look at yourself? I totally want to cut off your skin and wear it to my birthday... it's coming up"
Jimmy: "Yeah, listen, it's good to see you Hector, but I'm really busy right now"
Hector: "I'm sorry, I'll cut to the chase. You've got to start skating again, Jimmy."
Jimmy: "What?"
Hector: "It's embarrassing stalking a has-been, you know what I mean? Look, I almost gave up on you. I started stalking that Ukrainian skater, you know, the one that looks like Elvis? I moved to the Ukraine. It was cold, and everyone had guns and smelled like soup."
Jimmy: "I sympathize with you Hector, I really do, but there's nothing I can do. I'm banned for life...."
You should see it. Preferably with me.
Monday, September 17, 2007
I Miss You
My mind went tonight, as it sometimes does, to the Simpsons. I love this one:
Selma Bouvier(DMV Employee testing Otto for his licence):
Selma Bouvier: "When you do good, I use the green pen, when you do bad, I use the red pen. Any questions?"
Otto Mann: "Uh, yeah. You used to be a man right? You can tell me, I'm open minded."
Selma Bouvier: "I won't be needing this!" (drops the green pen in the trash)
I may need to get on ebay one of these days and fix this.
Selma Bouvier(DMV Employee testing Otto for his licence):
Selma Bouvier: "When you do good, I use the green pen, when you do bad, I use the red pen. Any questions?"
Otto Mann: "Uh, yeah. You used to be a man right? You can tell me, I'm open minded."
Selma Bouvier: "I won't be needing this!" (drops the green pen in the trash)
I may need to get on ebay one of these days and fix this.
Friday, June 1, 2007
You're Mac'ing Me Nervous
Yes, the title does make me feel like I've spent too much time in the Loony Spoons cookbook. But that's not the point right now. Not even close.
Did you know that the total market share of Mac's OS X operating system is about 6%? But 30% of people who visit TYC are running it. And since I am gifted with numbers, I'm going to break that right down for you.
It means a lot of people here are using Macs.
Now I have some good friends who use Macs. I have even more who have iPods. They say they're pretty.
I can't really blame them - they are nice to look at. But they remind me of an old saying: "Like a gold ring in a pig's snout is a beautiful woman who shows no discretion."
I think maybe it started when I used my first Mac (they called it a "Macintosh" then) to play games with my friend Andre. About five years before my dad had picked up a little Timex computer that had a whopping 2K of memory. It used a black and white TV to display, but it worked pretty well for Frogger. A year or two after that I had a friend with a Commodore 64. It was even better - color, little songs. Then I went to Andre's place and it was like going back in time. The screen was just slightly larger than a watch. That was kind of fitting, actually, since we spent years of our life waiting for it to load.
Then I used a Mac in a fine arts class in University. It wasn't an easy transition:
Me: "Why does this mouse only have one button?"
Mac person: "Apple invented the mouse, you know - Microsoft stole the idea."
Me: "That's great. But why is there only one button?"
Mac person: "You only need one. You can make it do whatever you want... you just hold down the apple key when you click."
Me: "Uh, yeah, but that's kind of why I use a mouse - so I don't have to worry about the keyboard at the same time."
Mac person: "We invented it, you know."
Me: "Yeah, you and Steve. We've just been there. There's no scroll wheel, either?!?"
Mac Person: "You don't need that. You just hold down the button and then drag the mouse."
Me [holding and dragging]: "Like this? Why isn't this working? You know, my mouse has five buttons and a wheel. I don't mean to turn this into a pissing contest - I'm just saying."
Mac Person: "You just have to hold it a little longer."
Me: "Now?"
Mac person: "Not quite."
Me: "Now?"
Mac person: "Almost there..."
Me: "Where's that stupid apple key..."
It went downhill pretty quickly from there.
So, Mac People: I have a feeling that we're never going to see eye to eye on this. You can tell me about how Macs never break down; I can ask you about which of the three Mac-compatible programs you enjoy the most. But I'm glad you're reading, and I appreciate you coming back.
Oh, and I'll try to remember to keep adding pictures.
;-)
Did you know that the total market share of Mac's OS X operating system is about 6%? But 30% of people who visit TYC are running it. And since I am gifted with numbers, I'm going to break that right down for you.
It means a lot of people here are using Macs.
Now I have some good friends who use Macs. I have even more who have iPods. They say they're pretty.
I can't really blame them - they are nice to look at. But they remind me of an old saying: "Like a gold ring in a pig's snout is a beautiful woman who shows no discretion."
I think maybe it started when I used my first Mac (they called it a "Macintosh" then) to play games with my friend Andre. About five years before my dad had picked up a little Timex computer that had a whopping 2K of memory. It used a black and white TV to display, but it worked pretty well for Frogger. A year or two after that I had a friend with a Commodore 64. It was even better - color, little songs. Then I went to Andre's place and it was like going back in time. The screen was just slightly larger than a watch. That was kind of fitting, actually, since we spent years of our life waiting for it to load.
Then I used a Mac in a fine arts class in University. It wasn't an easy transition:
Me: "Why does this mouse only have one button?"
Mac person: "Apple invented the mouse, you know - Microsoft stole the idea."
Me: "That's great. But why is there only one button?"
Mac person: "You only need one. You can make it do whatever you want... you just hold down the apple key when you click."
Me: "Uh, yeah, but that's kind of why I use a mouse - so I don't have to worry about the keyboard at the same time."
Mac person: "We invented it, you know."
Me: "Yeah, you and Steve. We've just been there. There's no scroll wheel, either?!?"
Mac Person: "You don't need that. You just hold down the button and then drag the mouse."
Me [holding and dragging]: "Like this? Why isn't this working? You know, my mouse has five buttons and a wheel. I don't mean to turn this into a pissing contest - I'm just saying."
Mac Person: "You just have to hold it a little longer."
Me: "Now?"
Mac person: "Not quite."
Me: "Now?"
Mac person: "Almost there..."
Me: "Where's that stupid apple key..."
It went downhill pretty quickly from there.
So, Mac People: I have a feeling that we're never going to see eye to eye on this. You can tell me about how Macs never break down; I can ask you about which of the three Mac-compatible programs you enjoy the most. But I'm glad you're reading, and I appreciate you coming back.
Oh, and I'll try to remember to keep adding pictures.
;-)
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Hi. My Name Is Philippe And I'm A Moron.
I wonder if there's a support group somewhere.
Leader: "So, Philippe, tell us how it all started."
Philippe: "Well, I guess I've always been annoying. I mean, at first I didn't really know that what I was doing was rude, stupid, and insensitive. I mean, I just went ahead and did what came naturally, you know?"
Leader: "I think we've all been there, haven't we?"
All (mumbled): "oh yeah..."
Philippe: "But eventually, I think it kind of clicked for me. Hey - the reason everyone around me looks pissed-off all the time may somehow be related to what I'm doing. Did that ever come as a shock."
Leader (with sympathy): "And what were you doing?"
Philippe (hesitating, then indignant): "You know, just normal stuff. Kicking the seat in front of me while I watched a movie. Pushing people just a little when I talked - you know, just so they knew it was me - talking on my phone six inches from the ear of the person beside me on the bus. Joining lines part way through. I mean, I didn't usually go all the way to the front! What do people expect?"
Leader: "And what did they expect?"
Philippe: "I don't know, man! But they expected something that wasn't natural, that's for sure. I even had a guy on the train glare at me when I was just eating a bag of chips - those really crunchy ones [making sound effects and chewing action]. Can you believe it? Eating! What could be more natural than eating? And he wanted me to stop. I couldn't believe it."
All (making sounds of disgust - several spit on floor)
Leader: "So what did you say to him?"
Philippe: "What can you say to someone who wants you to stop eating? If I don't eat, I'll die. It was him or me, so I stabbed him."
All (nodding approval)
Leader: "Well, maybe we'll touch on that in another session. But clearly it's important to you to be able to act freely."
Philippe: "Yeah, man. Freedom, man."
Leader: "So tell us a little about the music..."
Philippe: "Well, I've never had decent taste in music. I blame it on my parents. I mean, look at me - I'm an idiot. What do people expect?"
Leader: "Philippe, we're not here to put blame on anyone - we're here to take responsibility for our own choices, right?"
Philippe: "Right - so anyways, I can't help what I am. And so I've always had really bad taste... for a long time it was new wave. Then rap. Then techno... I didn't think it could get any more annoying than techno. Wow. And then I remember the first time I heard hip-hop, and I knew we would be together forever. That's about all I play any more." [starting to beat-box]
All (break into spontaneous freestyle mc'ing, primarily profanity with occasional references to money, rides, and ho's)
'
Leader: "Okay, everybody - rhyme therapy is after lunch... let's let Philippe go on..."
Philippe: "So, at first, I got an iPod. It was great. So white, you know? I liked to talk to everyone about how cool the design was."
All (nodding)
Philippe (pensive): "I listened normally for a while, but something was missing. Then I tried turning it up so that everyone around me could hear the cymbals. [eyes glaze over] It was a little better, but it still wasn't like the old days. You know, like the chips."
Leader: "So is that when you got the phone?"
Philippe: "No, it started with a boom-box. I used to carry it around all over, but it made the music sound too... you know, like real music. It wasn't right. And if I got tired of listening there wasn't anything else I could do with it. Turn it on, turn it off, turn it on again... I mean, after 5 or 6 hours in one day, the novelty of that starts to wear off, you know? Not completely, but just a little."
Leader: "You needed more variety?"
Philippe: "Yeah man - I can't help it, it's just the way I'm made. But then I discovered the phone... I could talk - as loud as I wanted. I could choose ring tones on the bus... I had one that had 420 different ring tones, and I used to choose a new one on the bus every day. It was so good. But when I started to play my tunes on my phone, I knew I hit on the sweet spot. I mean, it sounded like crap. Absolute crap! Even someone who liked the song would hate it sounding like that! And everybody hated it! It was like the I had the magic touch back, you know? So now I play it on the train every time I ride. I can't wait to get on, now. Sometimes I just get on to ride, even when I don't need to go anywhere. It's totally changed my world."
Leader: "Well, I guess that's why we're here. Everybody, let's thank Philippe for sharing."
All: "Thank you, Philippe."
Leader: "Okay, Jean-Marc, next time it's your turn..."
Leader: "So, Philippe, tell us how it all started."
Philippe: "Well, I guess I've always been annoying. I mean, at first I didn't really know that what I was doing was rude, stupid, and insensitive. I mean, I just went ahead and did what came naturally, you know?"
Leader: "I think we've all been there, haven't we?"
All (mumbled): "oh yeah..."
Philippe: "But eventually, I think it kind of clicked for me. Hey - the reason everyone around me looks pissed-off all the time may somehow be related to what I'm doing. Did that ever come as a shock."
Leader (with sympathy): "And what were you doing?"
Philippe (hesitating, then indignant): "You know, just normal stuff. Kicking the seat in front of me while I watched a movie. Pushing people just a little when I talked - you know, just so they knew it was me - talking on my phone six inches from the ear of the person beside me on the bus. Joining lines part way through. I mean, I didn't usually go all the way to the front! What do people expect?"
Leader: "And what did they expect?"
Philippe: "I don't know, man! But they expected something that wasn't natural, that's for sure. I even had a guy on the train glare at me when I was just eating a bag of chips - those really crunchy ones [making sound effects and chewing action]. Can you believe it? Eating! What could be more natural than eating? And he wanted me to stop. I couldn't believe it."
All (making sounds of disgust - several spit on floor)
Leader: "So what did you say to him?"
Philippe: "What can you say to someone who wants you to stop eating? If I don't eat, I'll die. It was him or me, so I stabbed him."
All (nodding approval)
Leader: "Well, maybe we'll touch on that in another session. But clearly it's important to you to be able to act freely."
Philippe: "Yeah, man. Freedom, man."
Leader: "So tell us a little about the music..."
Philippe: "Well, I've never had decent taste in music. I blame it on my parents. I mean, look at me - I'm an idiot. What do people expect?"
Leader: "Philippe, we're not here to put blame on anyone - we're here to take responsibility for our own choices, right?"
Philippe: "Right - so anyways, I can't help what I am. And so I've always had really bad taste... for a long time it was new wave. Then rap. Then techno... I didn't think it could get any more annoying than techno. Wow. And then I remember the first time I heard hip-hop, and I knew we would be together forever. That's about all I play any more." [starting to beat-box]
All (break into spontaneous freestyle mc'ing, primarily profanity with occasional references to money, rides, and ho's)
'
Leader: "Okay, everybody - rhyme therapy is after lunch... let's let Philippe go on..."
Philippe: "So, at first, I got an iPod. It was great. So white, you know? I liked to talk to everyone about how cool the design was."
All (nodding)
Philippe (pensive): "I listened normally for a while, but something was missing. Then I tried turning it up so that everyone around me could hear the cymbals. [eyes glaze over] It was a little better, but it still wasn't like the old days. You know, like the chips."
Leader: "So is that when you got the phone?"
Philippe: "No, it started with a boom-box. I used to carry it around all over, but it made the music sound too... you know, like real music. It wasn't right. And if I got tired of listening there wasn't anything else I could do with it. Turn it on, turn it off, turn it on again... I mean, after 5 or 6 hours in one day, the novelty of that starts to wear off, you know? Not completely, but just a little."
Leader: "You needed more variety?"
Philippe: "Yeah man - I can't help it, it's just the way I'm made. But then I discovered the phone... I could talk - as loud as I wanted. I could choose ring tones on the bus... I had one that had 420 different ring tones, and I used to choose a new one on the bus every day. It was so good. But when I started to play my tunes on my phone, I knew I hit on the sweet spot. I mean, it sounded like crap. Absolute crap! Even someone who liked the song would hate it sounding like that! And everybody hated it! It was like the I had the magic touch back, you know? So now I play it on the train every time I ride. I can't wait to get on, now. Sometimes I just get on to ride, even when I don't need to go anywhere. It's totally changed my world."
Leader: "Well, I guess that's why we're here. Everybody, let's thank Philippe for sharing."
All: "Thank you, Philippe."
Leader: "Okay, Jean-Marc, next time it's your turn..."
Sunday, April 22, 2007
The Carrier
I have a carrier that I have used with the little chick since she was born - I strap her to my chest, and that way we can talk, she can see what I see, I can sing to her as we walk, and she can swing her legs and hold my hands. We both like it a lot.
But it has taken on a little bit of a different feel for me today.
On the way home from church I saw a woman with the same carrier. But she wasn't carrying a baby.
She was carrying a cat.
Now, to be fair, I'm not a cat guy. I'm not a pet guy at all, really... I guess I have all the companionship that I want from my friends and my family, and I don't need anything around that is going to is going to expect me to feed it and make my place dirty - the little chick and I do quite well on that front between the two of us. And yes, I can hear you cat people already... "but cats are very clean animals, blah, blah, blah". They get clean by licking themselves. Have you ever actually tried this? It may do the trick for a couple of days, but I have to tell you - after a week, everyone around you is going to be begging you to go back to the shower method. They leave hair where I don't want it. They walk on counters and tables. So, yeah, they're clean, compared to a horse or something (and you horse people can just keep it to yourselves... honestly!), but they're not really clean.
And you can also say what you want about them being independent and intelligent and whatever else, but I'm not buying it. I've been around cats. They never say anything funny. They never introduce me to a new band. They don't bring me snacks. They don't even show any kind of appreciation when I make some kind of effort and try to engage them in any kind of discussion. I'm not saying they're useless, but I would say that they are most useful when combined with teriyaki sauce and a deep-fryer.
And, while I'm on it, dogs are only marginally better. They're a little more interactive, I think, though in most cases "interaction" means jumping up on me, licking/sniffing me in places I'm not particularly interested in sharing, and acting as though I'm threatening their life with my very presence. Maybe they're worse, in fact, since cat people can at least leave their cats at home and pretend to be like normal people for an evening. Dog people? You invite them for dinner and they ask if they can bring the dog. Why in the world would you want a dog to come over for dinner? Have you ever seen a dog eat? Why would I want more of that? "Only if you promise that he'll spend at least half of the meal licking his crotch," I used to say. The only problem is, I have yet to have a dog owner pick up on the (subtle) sarcasm, and in every case but one they replied, "oh, no problem!". The other one wasn't sure and turned down the invitation.
In any case, if you speak about yourself as "mommy" in reference to your animal, show me a portrait with a pet in it, or tell me that Foo-foo is part of the family, laughter is about the best response you can hope to get from me.
So when I saw the woman with the cat strapped to her in a carrier, I naturally asked myself a few questions:
But it has taken on a little bit of a different feel for me today.
On the way home from church I saw a woman with the same carrier. But she wasn't carrying a baby.
She was carrying a cat.
Now, to be fair, I'm not a cat guy. I'm not a pet guy at all, really... I guess I have all the companionship that I want from my friends and my family, and I don't need anything around that is going to is going to expect me to feed it and make my place dirty - the little chick and I do quite well on that front between the two of us. And yes, I can hear you cat people already... "but cats are very clean animals, blah, blah, blah". They get clean by licking themselves. Have you ever actually tried this? It may do the trick for a couple of days, but I have to tell you - after a week, everyone around you is going to be begging you to go back to the shower method. They leave hair where I don't want it. They walk on counters and tables. So, yeah, they're clean, compared to a horse or something (and you horse people can just keep it to yourselves... honestly!), but they're not really clean.
And you can also say what you want about them being independent and intelligent and whatever else, but I'm not buying it. I've been around cats. They never say anything funny. They never introduce me to a new band. They don't bring me snacks. They don't even show any kind of appreciation when I make some kind of effort and try to engage them in any kind of discussion. I'm not saying they're useless, but I would say that they are most useful when combined with teriyaki sauce and a deep-fryer.
And, while I'm on it, dogs are only marginally better. They're a little more interactive, I think, though in most cases "interaction" means jumping up on me, licking/sniffing me in places I'm not particularly interested in sharing, and acting as though I'm threatening their life with my very presence. Maybe they're worse, in fact, since cat people can at least leave their cats at home and pretend to be like normal people for an evening. Dog people? You invite them for dinner and they ask if they can bring the dog. Why in the world would you want a dog to come over for dinner? Have you ever seen a dog eat? Why would I want more of that? "Only if you promise that he'll spend at least half of the meal licking his crotch," I used to say. The only problem is, I have yet to have a dog owner pick up on the (subtle) sarcasm, and in every case but one they replied, "oh, no problem!". The other one wasn't sure and turned down the invitation.
In any case, if you speak about yourself as "mommy" in reference to your animal, show me a portrait with a pet in it, or tell me that Foo-foo is part of the family, laughter is about the best response you can hope to get from me.
So when I saw the woman with the cat strapped to her in a carrier, I naturally asked myself a few questions:
- Was she perhaps drunk?
- How surprised was she going to be when she got to where she was going and realized that she had left the baby at home with a saucer of chicken and liver meow mix?
- Was the cat actually no longer alive? This one disturbed me so much that I only thought about it for 15 minutes before forcing myself to move on.
- Where was she going that it would be useful to have a cat unable of propelling itself? Maybe a bbq?
Friday, March 16, 2007
The Demise Of YouTube
It started out as a good day, as most Fridays do. I had some time with Sam and Ollie this morning, and we were joined by my little chick. The sun is shining and I was listening to a really hammering tune by Starfield on the walk to work. I passed half a dozen stunning women a couple blocks from my office (not walking together, but all in a row; perhaps a break in some kind of convention for anti-social but beautiful people?). And so to celebrate the sum total of this good-dayness, I wanted to share with you something that Nat passed along to me a while ago: More Cowbell.
I wanted to put it here for a few reasons. First, it's really, really funny. Second, I had been telling someone about it (Chris?) but I'm not exactly sure now who it was. So I'm hoping that they will stop by here and see it and my poor memory will not entirely stand in the way of my desire to follow up when I promise to email funny things to friends. I think I find this clip especially poignant since, at one point, my band (not the MNB) actually took my cowbell off my kit and hid it. It was a trying time for us, but we're okay now. Of course, we don't see each other any more. Ah, well.
So I went looking on YouTube and, it seems, the only clips they have of this are ones of other people re-enacting it. Say what you want about the quality of SNL (and yes, when they miss, they miss big-time), but I don't care how good/bad the skit is - buddy recording it again in his garage just doesn't have the same impact. So I'm faced with only having a link to a page that you can view it on, and I'm sorry. I wish you could see it right here. But please, don't blame me - blame YouTube, and have a great Friday.
I wanted to put it here for a few reasons. First, it's really, really funny. Second, I had been telling someone about it (Chris?) but I'm not exactly sure now who it was. So I'm hoping that they will stop by here and see it and my poor memory will not entirely stand in the way of my desire to follow up when I promise to email funny things to friends. I think I find this clip especially poignant since, at one point, my band (not the MNB) actually took my cowbell off my kit and hid it. It was a trying time for us, but we're okay now. Of course, we don't see each other any more. Ah, well.
So I went looking on YouTube and, it seems, the only clips they have of this are ones of other people re-enacting it. Say what you want about the quality of SNL (and yes, when they miss, they miss big-time), but I don't care how good/bad the skit is - buddy recording it again in his garage just doesn't have the same impact. So I'm faced with only having a link to a page that you can view it on, and I'm sorry. I wish you could see it right here. But please, don't blame me - blame YouTube, and have a great Friday.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Less Words, More Pictures
I got an email from a friend who stopped by to look at my blog but was a little disturbed at the ratio of words:pictures. So, here's another picture. I was out by the pool in Lugano with a few of my colleagues. A couple of us weren't swimming, but were just watching the others swim (with a duck decoy, but that's the subject worthy of a post on its own) and the exercise class in progress. Partway through the class, I was able to get this shot. Look closely. Click on it to see the larger version if you need to. It's worth it.
And no, he's not someone I know. He would probably be an interesting guy, though.
And no, he's not someone I know. He would probably be an interesting guy, though.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Quote Of The Day
Buster: "Mother's becoming too controlling"
Michael: "What tipped you off, when she locked you out on the balcony again?"
Buster: "That was half my fault. I thought I saw a graham cracker out there."
From Arrested Development
Michael: "What tipped you off, when she locked you out on the balcony again?"
Buster: "That was half my fault. I thought I saw a graham cracker out there."
From Arrested Development
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Monday, February 5, 2007
Quote Of The Day
Tom, if irony were made of strawberries, we'd all be drinking a lot of smoothies right now.
(South Park)
(South Park)
Saturday, January 13, 2007
My Strangest Supermarket Conversation Ever
Often, when I take my daughter out to go shopping, I wear her in a carrier that's like a back-pack but sits in front of me. We both like it - she's nice and close, I can see her face to talk to her, she can locate me if she feels nervous, and she can hold onto my hands and put her feet on my legs as we walk.
We meet a lot of people together. If I am ever in the mood to pick up women my mother's age, I have the ticket... a smiling baby seems to be just about foolproof. In any case, she loves to see new people and smile and play with them, and I love to have her in a position where she can learn to do that. My French is not great, so most of the conversations are short, but friendly.
A little while ago I had a woman in line who must have heard me speaking or singing to my daughter in English, and so she addressed me in English. It didn't go really well:
"Oh what a beautiful baby [that's a good start]... is it a girl or a boy?"
My little girl does not have much hair, but wears a lot of pink and, I think, looks like a little girl. In any case, covered in pink or not, this is a question I'm used to, so I answered.
"A little girl"
"She looks just like you - she's going to be beautiful"
What do I say to that? Yes, she does resemble me. And I think she is beautiful. And I am not opposed either to people saying that she is beautiful, or to being described as beautiful myself (granted, that's a bit more rare). I don't think she was trying to say that I was attractive... she was just making conversation and complimenting me on having a gorgeous little girl strapped to me. But, it doesn't leave me with a lot of room to come back: do I say that my daughter's not beautiful? Do I thank her on what was obviously a compliment to me and tell her about my aspirations to become the face of Gucci now that Tom Ford is finally gone (he's always hated me...)? There's nothing to say to that.
But then it got, unbelievably, even worse. She continued:
"Ugly in the cradle, beautiful to the table."
*blank stare*
"That's what they say where I'm from [name of country has been removed to protect other people from there with better social skills]. Everyone said I was ugly as a baby, but look at me now."
Well, I looked at her now, and was all of a sudden a little less hopeful about my daughter's future. Thankfully, it was my turn to pay, so I smiled, thanked her for the compliments, wisher her a nice day, and resolved to start shopping at a different store.
Morals of the story (things to remember when talking to a parent):
Good things
1. Saying that the baby is beautiful
2. Saying that the baby will be beautiful when he/she grows up
Bad things
1. Asking whether the baby completely encased in pink is a little boy. This applies equally for the inverse inquiry
2. Saying that the baby looks just like his/her parent and is going to be beautiful, unless you mean it that way
3. Saying that the baby looks just like his/her parent and is ugly, especially if you mean it that way
4. Saying that any baby as ugly as that will surely grow up to be as attractive as you, unless you are extremely attractive. And even then, you should maybe find another way to word it.
We meet a lot of people together. If I am ever in the mood to pick up women my mother's age, I have the ticket... a smiling baby seems to be just about foolproof. In any case, she loves to see new people and smile and play with them, and I love to have her in a position where she can learn to do that. My French is not great, so most of the conversations are short, but friendly.
A little while ago I had a woman in line who must have heard me speaking or singing to my daughter in English, and so she addressed me in English. It didn't go really well:
"Oh what a beautiful baby [that's a good start]... is it a girl or a boy?"
My little girl does not have much hair, but wears a lot of pink and, I think, looks like a little girl. In any case, covered in pink or not, this is a question I'm used to, so I answered.
"A little girl"
"She looks just like you - she's going to be beautiful"
What do I say to that? Yes, she does resemble me. And I think she is beautiful. And I am not opposed either to people saying that she is beautiful, or to being described as beautiful myself (granted, that's a bit more rare). I don't think she was trying to say that I was attractive... she was just making conversation and complimenting me on having a gorgeous little girl strapped to me. But, it doesn't leave me with a lot of room to come back: do I say that my daughter's not beautiful? Do I thank her on what was obviously a compliment to me and tell her about my aspirations to become the face of Gucci now that Tom Ford is finally gone (he's always hated me...)? There's nothing to say to that.
But then it got, unbelievably, even worse. She continued:
"Ugly in the cradle, beautiful to the table."
*blank stare*
"That's what they say where I'm from [name of country has been removed to protect other people from there with better social skills]. Everyone said I was ugly as a baby, but look at me now."
Well, I looked at her now, and was all of a sudden a little less hopeful about my daughter's future. Thankfully, it was my turn to pay, so I smiled, thanked her for the compliments, wisher her a nice day, and resolved to start shopping at a different store.
Morals of the story (things to remember when talking to a parent):
Good things
1. Saying that the baby is beautiful
2. Saying that the baby will be beautiful when he/she grows up
Bad things
1. Asking whether the baby completely encased in pink is a little boy. This applies equally for the inverse inquiry
2. Saying that the baby looks just like his/her parent and is going to be beautiful, unless you mean it that way
3. Saying that the baby looks just like his/her parent and is ugly, especially if you mean it that way
4. Saying that any baby as ugly as that will surely grow up to be as attractive as you, unless you are extremely attractive. And even then, you should maybe find another way to word it.
The World Cup
I've tried to get into soccer (for north americans) or football (for everyone else) and really not been able to make it stick. Still, I've been enjoying watching world cup games, especially with friends from various countries. I just love trying to see things through the eyes of people who are passionate about them, and if that means sitting through a football game, that's okay.
One thing I do like about, at least, is at the start of each match, the teams come onto the pitch with children - one boy or girl for each player, holding hands with their player and standing with them for the national anthem. I don't know where this originated (maybe to keep any fights from breaking out before the whistle? or does that just happen in hockey?) but it is wonderful.
I saw one match with England where they had done up the children's hair to match their player... corn rows, fauxhawk, the whole bit. I don't know if football is supposed to be cute - I'm guessing not - but that was really cute. Now if we could just get them to score a little more often.
Since that only covers the first three minutes of a match, I've come up with a new strategy for who I choose to cheer for. To understand why this would matter, there are three things you need to know:
1. Geneva is a very multi-cultural city, but there are still more people from some parts of the world than others.
2. Many (but not all) cultures celebrate a sporting win by driving up and down a main street while honking their horns and waving flags from their windows. For hours.
3. I live on a busy central street.
Now, I could understand if I lived in, say, Portugal and I wanted to go out and celebrate on the street when my team won... after all, it would be everyone's team! But why I would choose to do this when living in another country is beyond me. At best, most other people will be indifferent about my team's win. At the worst, they are from the country that just lost, and will be really, really unhappy about it. Likely, they'll just be a bit pissed-off about having some idiot driving up and down the street with his hand on the horn.
Anyway, I'm now choosing who to cheer for based on their approximate population in Geneva (or, at least, in my neighbourhood) and the amount of noise that is culturally acceptable to them. For example: the game on now is Portugal vs The Netherlands. There are a lot of Portuguese people in my neighbourhood (I heard recently that Geneva is the largest community of Portuguese outside of Portugal), and they are an enthusiastic bunch... an endearing quality, unless I'm trying to sleep.
The Dutch, on the other hand, are few and far between here. And, as far as I can tell, they are not very noisy. I find it a little pompous that they need to have "The" in front of the name of their capital city, but other than that I don't see much to complain about. So, tonight I'm pulling for The Netherlands. Besides, the orange uniforms are very cool.
Unfortunately, Portugal scored as I've been writing. Still almost an hour left though, so there is hope! My overall pick, Korea, appears to have been eliminated. Maybe next time...
One thing I do like about, at least, is at the start of each match, the teams come onto the pitch with children - one boy or girl for each player, holding hands with their player and standing with them for the national anthem. I don't know where this originated (maybe to keep any fights from breaking out before the whistle? or does that just happen in hockey?) but it is wonderful.
I saw one match with England where they had done up the children's hair to match their player... corn rows, fauxhawk, the whole bit. I don't know if football is supposed to be cute - I'm guessing not - but that was really cute. Now if we could just get them to score a little more often.
Since that only covers the first three minutes of a match, I've come up with a new strategy for who I choose to cheer for. To understand why this would matter, there are three things you need to know:
1. Geneva is a very multi-cultural city, but there are still more people from some parts of the world than others.
2. Many (but not all) cultures celebrate a sporting win by driving up and down a main street while honking their horns and waving flags from their windows. For hours.
3. I live on a busy central street.
Now, I could understand if I lived in, say, Portugal and I wanted to go out and celebrate on the street when my team won... after all, it would be everyone's team! But why I would choose to do this when living in another country is beyond me. At best, most other people will be indifferent about my team's win. At the worst, they are from the country that just lost, and will be really, really unhappy about it. Likely, they'll just be a bit pissed-off about having some idiot driving up and down the street with his hand on the horn.
Anyway, I'm now choosing who to cheer for based on their approximate population in Geneva (or, at least, in my neighbourhood) and the amount of noise that is culturally acceptable to them. For example: the game on now is Portugal vs The Netherlands. There are a lot of Portuguese people in my neighbourhood (I heard recently that Geneva is the largest community of Portuguese outside of Portugal), and they are an enthusiastic bunch... an endearing quality, unless I'm trying to sleep.
The Dutch, on the other hand, are few and far between here. And, as far as I can tell, they are not very noisy. I find it a little pompous that they need to have "The" in front of the name of their capital city, but other than that I don't see much to complain about. So, tonight I'm pulling for The Netherlands. Besides, the orange uniforms are very cool.
Unfortunately, Portugal scored as I've been writing. Still almost an hour left though, so there is hope! My overall pick, Korea, appears to have been eliminated. Maybe next time...
I'm A Musician
I've been thinking about how, when someone claims to be a musician, we have no standardized scale by which to pinpoint exactly what kind of musician they are. This is not a full system yet, but I think it's a pretty good starting point.
The scoring should, of course, should be graduated. I play piano, bass, and drums. Piano is tough, and should certainly count for something. But bass... 4 strings, you play one at a time? That can't count as a whole instrument. And drums are tough to do really well, to lay down a groove or a pocket that just feels right. But to just play? I could teach you to play in 30 minutes. So, the first step is to identify which instrument(s) you play, and collect the points as listed below:
French horn: 10 points
Piano: 9 points
Oboe: 8 points
Guitar: 7 points
Cello: 6 points
Bass (fretless): 5 points
Saw: 4 points
Bass (fretted): 3 points
Drums: 2 points
Tambourine/shaker/spoons : 1 point
Then you multiply your score by 2 if you can sight read for that instrument, by 3 if you can improvise (in a way that sounds like music, not just in a "free-jazz odyssey" kind of way). Subtract 30 from your score if you also play, or have at any time played, accordion. Add back 15 if you write, and multiply by 3 if you write well (this is usually evidenced by the fact that people who don't actually know you are still interested in listening to your music).
The scoring should, of course, should be graduated. I play piano, bass, and drums. Piano is tough, and should certainly count for something. But bass... 4 strings, you play one at a time? That can't count as a whole instrument. And drums are tough to do really well, to lay down a groove or a pocket that just feels right. But to just play? I could teach you to play in 30 minutes. So, the first step is to identify which instrument(s) you play, and collect the points as listed below:
French horn: 10 points
Piano: 9 points
Oboe: 8 points
Guitar: 7 points
Cello: 6 points
Bass (fretless): 5 points
Saw: 4 points
Bass (fretted): 3 points
Drums: 2 points
Tambourine/shaker/spoons : 1 point
Then you multiply your score by 2 if you can sight read for that instrument, by 3 if you can improvise (in a way that sounds like music, not just in a "free-jazz odyssey" kind of way). Subtract 30 from your score if you also play, or have at any time played, accordion. Add back 15 if you write, and multiply by 3 if you write well (this is usually evidenced by the fact that people who don't actually know you are still interested in listening to your music).
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