Month: February 2005

For those moments when you feel there is something missing, I present:

The Big Lebowski Random Quote Generator

“My God sir! I will not abide another toe!”

Poor old Monday has to get stuck at the start of the week. Everyone hates it, even though it tries to bribe with the occasional bank holiday. Monday gets dissed.
I fear I must not buck the trend: Monday, I hate you.

Weekend was fab.

• It looks like we may not get assraped on car insurance (if the quotes we are getting hold out). Weeee!
• Friday night was a blast and a success. I don’t think either in that group will miss another larger party when we have one. With the party competition around here, it takes harder work.
• Saturday Heather took the GRE and I (on account of semi-cancelled plans) played more of “Battles for Middle-Earth.” Fun game. I survived the siege of minas tirith (and the pelennor fields battle, though it gets a bit of a lessened presence in the game (and the movie). I mean, I want to command Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth and his troops.
• Saturday night we hung at home and decompressed for Sunday would be busy.
• Sunday we had breakfast and Heather baked cookies.
• Then we were off to get the Urban Ititarod cart in order: Looks Tiki-riffic. We’re doing that next Saturday so there should be pictures.
• Next we helped our Haunted House friend out by hefting wall panels and other Haunted objects into a trailer.
• Then after a brief jaunt back home we went to That same friend’s Oscar Party.

And about the oscars:

Wasn’t that the worst and most boring Oscar telecast in … oh I don’t know … Forever?
What is with having the people on stage, or doing part of the show from the audience?
What is with the cheap ass graphics?
Bo-Ring. Yawn.

What the hell – did the budget get cut in half or something? Did someone wake up last weekend and think “Shit! I forgot we had to plan the oscars this year!”
Whatever. It’s not like there was anything interesting happening in film world this year.

It was nice to see Charlie K get an oscar. Throwin’ him a bone.

So how was your weekends, oh those who have read my yawn-inspired ramble to here?

It’s friday and all is right with the world for a bit. The world can just hold this pose for a bit, OK?

Tonight we have a few artists from my work coming over to the Monkey Hut for Dinner and Cocktails.
Tomorrow Heather takes the GRE and I start to do some work on The garage/studio, tomorrow night currently looks open.
Sunday we are working on our dog sled for the Urban Iditarod (it is on March 5th.) It’s team tiki, of course.
Sunday night is oscars possibly at a friends house.

Today can breeze by now, please.

So did all you LOST viewers see Hurley on the TV at the house where Jin was delivering the ‘message?’

I did.

If you didin’t click the cut!

pweened

So I’m thinking about how I intellectualize opinions, particularly opinions of taste. At one end the postmodern aspect fascinates me in how aptitudes and proclivities reveal about underlying thoughts.
On the other hand, that likely is all bullshit. To a certain degree I have been allowing myself to not overanalyze my tastes. Not to say I shouldn’t be wary of opinions about things that matter, like politics or personal relationships, or philosophy. I’m talking about what art I like. You know, that kind of aesthetics.
It started by not having to pretend to like something ironically. I’m strong enough to admit I like things for what they are above and beyond common aesthetical groupthink. I like PBR cause I like it, I don’t drink it cause it’s cool, or because it affords a pseudo-blue-collar sensibility. There are those aspects to it, but you-know-what? It tastes good to me and it is affordable and it’s made in Wisconsin.

So that’s not the part I though some of you would find disagreeable. 🙂 The other part to this is that I’ve also allowed myself to be honest about what I don’t like. I’m not afraid to state what I don’t like – I shouldn’t be embarrassed or shamed by my opinion. They just happen to a certain degree. Still, I feel the need to over-intellectualize, so here it is:

I really can’t stand The Gilmore Girls.

And it’s not because I think it is “bad.” (Whatever ‘bad’ means in terms of taste) I just can’t stand it.

I find the whole show incredibly shallow in character dialogue. Every freaking character speaks with the same voice. Every character seems to speak as if it were a race to get through their lines – like their lines are a poison they have to vomit before it taints them. (Especially Rory — Jesus, girl slow the fuck down)
Every show is like a fucking read through.
It is like every one of these characters isn’t real, but an imagined person in some demented neurosis. Every character speaks tons of dialogue without saying anything. It is a circle jerk of sound and fury.
Literate masturbation
I detest it. And I can’t hide it anymore. I tried and tried to think there was something wrong with me.
I’ve gotten over it.
I fucking hate The Gilmore Girls. I hope the characters (in the story, not real life people) get hit by trucks, meteors, and acid rain.

Perhaps I have invented a new form of FanFic. For those who hate the show? I’d love to read a fanfic of The Gilmore Girls where each character is slowly tormented and meets a grisly demise. Hehehe: Hatefic.

Knowing the internet, I’ll bet it already exists.

The sitcom “everybody loves Raymond.” is done. Over.

Too bad about syndication. When I die and go to hell I’ll be forced to watch that over and over.

Yep. That and “Small Wonder” episodes.

Mourn for me.

I apologize to those who I didn’t call and are hearing about this from reading LJ – to hard to talk about.

Our most favored (and spoiled) cat, Samwise, died on Friday past. We came home to find him on his favorite chair. It looked like it happened in his sleep and was quick. (bad week for our furry friends, eh, ? 🙁
I have to look at these last six months as six extra months we were lucky enough to have had with him. Poor monkey didn’t give us any signs of being sick or in any pain or discomfort. He led a fulfilled, happy, warm and comforted life. Westu hal, Samwise.

I’m turning off comments for the post – I thank everyone for their well wishes, but I didn’t want to turn it into a hugsfest.

It just isn’t right.

I, as always, blame W.

You know what I need?

(ok, yeah I do need that, you pervs. However I had something else in mind)

I need the little green fairy to make a delivery to a certain glass jar that has been empty for entirely far too long. You know, the jar that smells of those nights in bangkok(though not during a Chess Championship)?

So today in class, a book by H. Rider Haggard was brought up: She

So, have any of you read it?

Reactions? Interpretationis? Opinions?