Sign Seen While Getting Bloodwork

"We strive to provide you with very good service."

Very good service? You're really reaching for the stars aren't you?

In addition, when I walked outside afterwards, I saw a little park that was only for employees. There was a sign that said, "Posted No Trespassing Keep Out."

What was odd to me is that "Posted" was in the largest size font, as if the actual, you know, posting, of a sign wasn't enough. No, not only did the sign have to be posted, but the sign itself had to claim that it was posted. Not to belabor the point, but THAT'S SO REDUNDANT! It's like wearing a name tag to a dinner with your wife.

Top Three Worst Lyrics of 2008

One of the bright sides to having a degree in music (which I humbly submit that I do) is that I can more acutely appreciate when something is flawless than someone who doesn't have as trained of an ear. The big glaring down-side to having a degree in music is that just about everything is not flawless, and so nearly everytime I hear something musical, I am disappointed to the point of either seeking out talk radio or shooting myself in the face (and I can only take so many stories from KPBS about how bad it is to not be me, so a good face-shooting is sounding real good about now).

Even so, I find myself shuffling between the five or six presets I have in my car in the hopes of finding that will encourage my to choose life. Instead, I have found these three songs whose music, admittedly, is catchy, but whose lyrics leave much to be desired.

#3 Pocketful of Sunshine - Natasha Bedingfield

There's a place that I go that nobody knows
When the rivers flow and I call it home
And there's no more lies in the darkness there's light
And nobody cries, there's only butterflies.

It's that last line that really gets to me. The way the first half is written, it implies that the second half will be the opposite of the first (ie, "And nobody cries, there's only not crying). Instead, we are told that instead of crying, there are butterflies. THESE THINGS ARE NOT COMPARABLE!

To illustrate how bad a comparison this is, let's say that my boss catches me goofing around online, and I respond, "I wasn't slacking off, there was a unicorn."



At that point, I'm pretty sure getting fired would be about the least of my concerns.

#2 So What - Pink

Check my flow (uhh)
The waiter just took my table
And gave it to Jessica Sim...(S***)
I guess I'll go sit with the drum boy
At least he knows how to hit (Whoops)
What if this song's on the radio?
Somebody's gonna die
I'm gonna get in trouble
My ex will start a fight
He's gonna start a fight
We're are gonna get in a fight.

What I will give this song is that it is incredibly catchy. In fact, the melody has been catchy ever since first grade when kids used to taunt each other with it (pictured below, the child who sold the song rights for a lollipop).



Secondly, why is Pink recording the aural equivalence of that video tape from the movie The Ring? If the song is on the radio, why must someone die? Do they at least get the seven days that Hairy McHairinhereyes gave the tape viewers? Or is Pink expecting that people who hear this song on the radio to get so angry that they start swerving wildly in the hopes that a gracious God will send them into a lamp post so they never have to listen again?

#1 Human - The Killers

Are we human, or are we dancers?
My sign is vital, my hands are cold
And I'm on my knees looking for the answer
Are we human, or are we dancers?

Wow. There is so much that doesn't make sense about those lyrics that I almost don't know where to begin. Actually, first off, how about the fact that HUMANS AND DANCERS ARE NOT MUTUALLY EXCLUSIVE EVENTS. I will allow that other creatures can dance (and apparently hold ballet poses).



I can only assume that the person who wrote those lyrics saw the above picture, and came to the following incorrect logical thinking:

Some humans are dancers
Some bears are dancers
Therefore, some humans are bear dancers.

Wait, I think I understand the lyrics now.

They Are Who We Thought They Were!!!

Because my wife and I both work all day, we feel badly that we have to leave our little puppy (named Scrabble) at home because by the end of the day he is absolutely crazy (not unlike rabbits wearing pants). We feel so badly that we figured some good ways to get him to calm down would include (and we had to rhyme, not actually say them for fear of him getting upset): "Coing for a calk", "Shmaking him to the shmound", and "iving him a burby."

So, in the interest of not spending our golden years in prison for animal cruelty, we decided that he needed to start going to a doggy day care. The one that we chose even has a webcam to see what the little pups are up to. Mostly it's cute things, like you would find on a greeting card, such as:







While this is cute and all, I didn't truly understand why a webcam would be necessary to capture such lolmoments. However, just a few moments ago, I came to understand the real value of the webcam. At first, he appeared to just be sitting and posing for me in front of the camera. It was only when he stepped aside that I realized, well, please see the pictures below.





What a good boy!

It Trips Me Up

Whenever I see someone who is in trouble with the law for whatever reason, I generally can't help but think "Sure, he's a louse, but what a fine head of hair."



Congrats Governor!

State of my State

While it is a frustrating thing for me to show up here and say something along the lines of "OMG!!! It's been a long time since I wrote anything here. LOL!!!JK!!!ROTFL!!!LMNOP!!!," I feel that I must say something just along those lines.

I recently checked the email address that I have associated with this account (which is not my personal email, because heaven forbid that I should lose my anonymity associated with this account [though, let's face it, if the only people who were consistantly reading this thing were my mother, people I have met face to face, and people who have friended me on social networking sites, it's not very anonymous anyways]), and some nice man whom I don't believe I know offered me over two figures to buy this thing under the assumption that I don't want it anymore. In the words of this immortal poet, c'you believ' that?

In short, I was reminded that this site has personal value to me and that it has been a lot of fun to work on over the last couple of years. When I log in and see that I have over 400 posts, I think of all the blood, sweat, and tears (not to mention keyboards) I've gone through working on this site.

So, I'm not saying it's going to be consistant, and I'm saying it's a new year's resolution, and I'm not saying that it's going to be "good" or "worthwhile" or "a better expenditure of time than not breathing," but I am going to say that I think I can do a little better than the 14 posts I got out all of last year. Aim for the stars, I always say.

Oh yeah, baby, it's on.

Hmmm...Purple

You Should Live in a Purple State

Your preferences are 50% Blue, 50% Red You may not be a swing voter, but you feel comfortable around moderate people. You tend to do best in states with a red and blue mix - like Nevada and North Carolina. You are adaptable. You can converse with a church crowd as easily as with grad students.

LINK

The Three Wise Men

As I watched three men playing their respective instruments, I was immediately stricken with the looks of abject pleasure on their faces. The guitarist smiled joyfully as he effortlessly switched styles and strumming patterns; the upright bass-player furrowed his brow as he sung along to keep pace with his walking basslines; and the accordian player assumed the air of a mad genius as he alternately intently focused on the manuscript paper and closed his eyes, caught up in, as the poet has said, the closest thing we mortals can come to heaven while on earth.

I remembered the feeling of playing bass while a friend jammed on guitar some time after midnight one morning twelve years ago, the frets and chord progressions having started to make intuitive rather than analytical sense, the practice time coming to fruition, the joy of being capable in a world that I had lacked capacity in previously. I too closed my eyes and smiled as I saw Saint Peter in this place where I'd never grow old.

I saw these three wise men, each with his gift more precious than gold, frankincense, or myrrh and I told myself that I yearned for an outlet currently, but what I really wished for was a chance to go back and re-live that mild, ineffable winter's night of years ago.

As another poet has said, I guess this is growing up.

Grand Theft Auto 4

I heard on the radio that the latest title in the Grand Theft Auto franchise (GTA IV) was expected to sell 9 million copies. At $60 a pop, that's a gross profit of $540 million bucks.

Apparently I went to college for the wrong things. Who could have predicted the value of majoring in stealing cars and assaulting prostitutes?

Prank

"What's funnier than a gorilla chasing bananas through a school? Nothing," said Andrew Leinonen, the prank's mastermind and the student who dressed as a gorilla. "It was a harmless prank."

Why American Idol Makes Me Want to Punch Myself

I'll admit it. I made the mistake of watching American Idol last night. What does everybody want? They said they were going to have Andrew Lloyd Webber on there; do I not enjoy musical theatre? Do I not bleed red?

The basic premise of last night's show was that each performer had to choose a song by Lord Andrew, and they had to sing it for the American Idolites

Come close, children, and I will tell you what I saw.

Fistly, I saw a young woman forget her words. As a performer myself, I can tell you that that is among the worst places to be as a singer, with the only worser places being tied in a burlap sack and tossed into a river or Texas.

That's right: I just messed with Texas.

But that's not what I wanted to talk to you about today. I wanted to talk with you about the two young men who opted to sing songs written explicitly for women. I gotta tell you , it takes brass tacks to go to arguably the most important living composer in musical theatre (the folks that would argue would be Sondheim followers), and basically tell him, "You know what, I know that you're a smart guy and all, but I thought that, though you intended this song for an old woman, I'm 18 and a boy and I'm going to sing it with success."

In fact, it's more than brass tacks that that would take. That would take cajones the size of a parking garage. That would take gumption akin to agreeing to having one arm tied to a railroad track in the face of an oncoming train, and also having to fight off two bears, a lion, a great white shark, and a particularly irritable lemur.

But fine. Say you think you've found the greatest song, and it'll get everyone in America to vote for you. Then even grumpulous me would have to agree that it was a good idea to choose that song. I agree that they chose good overall songs.

HOWEVER, these morons didn't even choose the best sections of the songs! Both of the guys have little pop-tenor voices, and they opted for portions of song that were down in the basement vocally. In short, they had "A" songs, but they opted for the "B" sections. Why would you do that? Do you not like the idea of winning the competition? Did you wake up on the stupid side of the bed that morning?

Also, memo to the arm swaying audience: you make me sad to be alive.

Nevertheless, whatshername from San Diego was pretty good, if you like things that are mediocre. With that being said, it's off to punch myself.

Re: Lady in Ford Focus

Dear Lady,

1) If you drive a purple Ford Focus, you are suspect in my mind.
2) If you had a single dream catcher hanging from your rear-view mirror, you would be even more suspect.
3) The fact that you had multiple dream catchers hanging from your rear-view mirror made me throw up a little in my mouth.

Kindly knock it off.

Love,
AC

Shining

Highlight of my Day:

Finding a presumably intellectual show on television called "Absolute Brilliance."

Anti-Highlight of my Day:

Finding out the show is just an advertisement for cubic zirconia.

Moral:

Don't look for highlights. Or, at the very least, don't trust television show titles.

Weather

Frequently, at my job, I am around people that I have met but don't really know. When I am in a situation where I am with them for any more than a second, one or the other of us feels the need to say something, the unspoken idea being that it is polite to acknowledge the other person's existence. More often than not, the topic of conversation will be the weather.

However, I can't help feeling like a cliche when I or the other person does this. Is there is absolutely no other topic that I or this person can think of to bridge the troubled waters of a few moments of silence? While it is absolutely the definition of polite conversation (has anyone ever said to you, "I am offended that you think it's sunny outside"?), it seems to me that the initiator is doing nothing more than speaking what is plainly and painfully obvious, something that is, therefore, unnecessary to discuss. The person saying it may as well be pointing out some other obvious aspect of the immediate surroundings, like this:

(Setting: Five seconds of awkward silence in a company's lunch room, until-)
Person 1: This is a table!
Person 2: It certainly is a table!
Person 1: It wasn't like this in here last week, what with the table and all.
Person 2: I wonder if this table is ever going to change?
Person 1: Well, you know how it is living in San Diego!
Person 1 and Person 2: (Laugh awkwardly, until-)
(Curtain.)

It is at these times, that I, while engaged by another human being in conversation, feel the most alone. I would almost rather the person exclaim "I see you and I am privy to the fact that you are indeed a different person, unique and separate from myself!" before hurriedly rushing out of the room. At least then my life would be more like a post-modern play, and who doesn't want that?

Therefore, I will make it a point to engage in conversation first, with simple pleasantries like "Good morning!", "Good afternoon!", or "So's your old man!" in the hopes of avoiding things that are too obvious to speak about. For a longer term goal, I will make it a point to figure out at minimum what department everyone's in so that I can ask them how things are in that department. This will, I hope, convey the fact that I know who they are and what they do, and, while being at the barest of bones level, this will also let them know that somebody knows something about them.

And, at least I won't be talking about the weather.

Paradox

How to create a paradox:

Step 1: Purchase a junkyard dog.
Step 2: Name said junkyard dog Bad Bad Leroy Brown.
Step 3: Contemplate how Bad Bad Leroy Brown can be meaner than a junkyard dog when he is a junkyard dog.

Joy

Happiness is getting into your car at 8:45 on a Sunday morning, turning it on, and the radio playing Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody."

It almost makes up for having to miss the Chargers' playoff game due to rehearsal. Almost. Yeah, it doesn't really make up for it at all, but at this point, I'm looking for little blessings.

An Open Letter to Jeep

Dear Jeep,

I understand that in today's bustling economy, the more you can get your product out there, the more likely you will be successful in selling your product. However, your commercial for your Jeep Liberty (the one with the singing animals) is played out. My roommate and I counted the other day, and we saw that commercial 14 times over the course of one football game.

This does not make me want to purchase your product. This is overexposure. In addition, every subsequent time that I see that commercial reminds me how much I hate it, and it reminds me to stay away from Jeep.

Bloody well knock it off.

With love,
AC

Car

There is a late 80's/early 90's Honda Civic in the parking lot of my complex. It is metallic blue. It is a small car. And I hate it.

You see, for the better part of the last three months, this vehicle has been parked across the line of one of the already small spots in the lot.

So, every night when I get home late, and it looks like there is a spot, but then there isn't because Mr. Civic is parked over the line, I get a little unhappy. Unhappy to the point that I sit in my seriously considering ramming the car with my own, until I realize that that would harm my car. Then I consider taking a chisel and dismantling the car little by little, so that eventually there would be no car left, and with any luck, the owner wouldn't realize that there was anything wrong until it was much too late. Then there would be two free spots, and two is better than one.

Then, I realize that it's now 12:02 am, and I've been sitting fantasizing about Civic destruction for the better part of ten minutes, and I give up and go find a place to park that is further away, resolving to myself to buy a chisel for the next day.

But I never do. I never do.

Chargers

Anybody remember when LT could run more than two or three yards at a time? Or when he was a better back than LenDale White? Anybody?

EDIT: San Diego has a pretty good football team when they decide to show up. Let's go Chargers!

Keira

The thing about Keira Knightley is that she is pretty, but she also kind of looks like she has some extra bones in her face. Lots of extra bones. That's the thing to remember.

Under

In the show that I'm in, to ward off the unhappiness of having to work on Christmas and Christmas Eve, most of the cast has put their names into a "Secret Santa" gift exchange. We can get as many gifts for the person as we want, but we will give out the big gift in between the shows on Christmas Eve.

Everyone put four or five things that they were interested in down on a piece of paper, and each of us drew those papers from a hat. The fellow that I randomly chose put down, among other things, underwear as an interest.

So I, an XL underwear wearer, went into Macy's this evening, and perused the tightie-whitie section in search of something in a medium. When I found the appropriate item (or, inappropriate item, as it were), I waited until there weren't very many people in line, and then I made my break for it, because, let's be honest, when you're buying underwear that is obviously not suited for you, you don't want to showcase it.

When it was my turn to pay, in a gesture that I only later realized was uncomfortable, I asked for a gift receipt. So, not only was I buying underwear that obviously didn't fit me, I was buying somewhat scandalous underwear as a gift. For apparently another man.

And that, children, is just about the gayest I have ever been. I'll be waiting for my ID card in the mail.