All I Can Think About Lately

1) Please watch this trailer for what I am hoping will be a super amazing movie. I read the graphic novel it was based on a few months ago, and it absolutely blew my mind.



Why is this on my mind? The only line in that trailer says something to the effect of, "The world will look up and shout 'save us,' and I'll whisper 'no'." However, the actor pronounces the word I'll like most people pronounce the word all. Saying it like that is very regional in its diction, and it drives me crazy every single time I hear it. I can't stand it. So, every time the commercial, for something about which I am very excited, comes on, I enjoy most of it, but I then have to grit my teeth. I am just really surprised that the movie folk allowed it to be recorded that way. LEARN HOW TO SPEAKY GOOD! THAT'S RIGHT, SPEAKY!

2) When my mind wanders lately, I have been imagining what it would be like to be in a bad car accident. Particularly, how it would make my bones rattle in my body. I am hopeful that this will not occur, don't get me wrong, and I am not looking for opportunities to get into a bad car accident (*knocks on wood*), but I keep having this recurring daydream about this. It's kind of freaking me out.

3) I am going to be in a production of "The Cradle Will Rock" with Stone Soup Theatre Company here in San Diego, and it is going to be amazing. We just had our first rehearsal tonight, and I already know how awesome it's going to be.*

*In college, I once claimed to a professor that I thought it would be awesome to get a velvet tuxedo for my senior recital, to which this person replied "Only God is awesome, not some velvet suit." I later got a "C" grade on that recital, so I've done my very best to disregard anything associated (comments included) with it.

Extra

Tastybaby. I'm not sure what this is, but I would like to take this opportunity to publicly state that I do not endorse eating babies, tasty or not.

I'm Not Mad, Internet, I'm Just a Little Disappointed

It is almost never a good idea to buy something from a rinky-dink website.

How do I know this?

I still haven't received my pens!

I know that there were many warning signs along the way that should have told me not to buy them, from the fact that I had never heard of the website before (Graveyardmall.com? Sounds like an alternate working title to "Dawn of the Dead") to the fact that I had no idea of the answer to the question of how very happy the prospect of bringing five pounds of unmatched pens into our living space would make my beautiful and loving wife (answer: not very).

Now, it's been three weeks, and I still don't have them. To make matters worse, I have called their customer service department twice and emailed them twice, and I have yet to receive an answer. To make matters even worse, when I ordered them, I had no idea that I checked a box that entitled me to win some internet lottery, which has only made the Zimbabwean princesses come out of the woodwork with, either, offers of large sums of money to be deposited into my bank account if I will just send them my account number and my social security number (FYI, my SSN is 7...I'm older than I look) or offers of male enhancement (which turns out to be, surprisingly, NOTHING like the adamantium claws that I thought it was).

Fortunately, I paid through Paypal, so if those glorious pens that I was so excited about do not come, I should be able to get my money back.

So, like I said in the title, Internet (if you're still reading grad schools, I am currently utilizing apostrophe), It's not so much that I'm mad, but I will certainly miss that thing that I love most of all, that is to say, my appointment. I am left with just disappointment.

An Open Letter to the Graduate Schools to Which I Have Applied

To Whom It May Concern:

You, as schools, need students. I, as a hopeful student, need a school. As you can see, these goals are mutually inclusive; or, to use a double negative, these goals are not mutually exclusive. Though I realize that we are not supposed to use double negatives in our writing, I figure that by my pointing it out, you will consider me clever, and I understand that that is the sort of thing in which graduate schools are interested. Please also notice that I left a dangling preposition neither at the end of the last sentence nor in the title of this post.

I realize that you may have been thrown off by the amount of talent that I exhibited in my audition, and you think that you should come and learn at my university. While I appreciate the thought, I firmly believe that it should be the other way around. Please note that this paragraph used sarcasm as well as an exaggerated description of my talent, a hyperbole, if you will.

So, I guess all I'm saying is, give me a shot, baby. Give me a shot.

Your dearest darling,
AC

Ridiculous?

In the past two months I have purchased:

1) Running shoes,
2) A watch that measures heart rate and distance,
3) The book "Running for Dummies,"
4) A subscription to Runner's World.

In the past two months, I have gone on substantive runs:

zero times. I have gone on very short runs once or twice, but nothing more than five minutes or so.

Though I am keeping my fingers crossed that my growing head knowledge of running will make me wake up one day with the body of a gazelle*, so far, this has not come to fruition. But, thanks to articles as specific as one on how to tie one's shoes**, I feel that soon I will have the body of a god***.

However, I have decided that tomorrow morning is the time that I begin. I practiced this morning by getting up slightly earlier than I normally would have, and I have earned a smug sense of satisfaction that allows me to look at others and scoff and I think to myself, "Did you get up slightly earlier than normal and consider it practicing for running? I didn't think so."

While I will still be taking a short run, I consider this one up from the very short runs to which I have become accustomed. I'll let you know if anything notable happens****.

* I would like to have the swiftness of a gazelle. I would neither like to wake up a centaur-type creature nor with a headless gazelle's body in my bed as some sort of mafia message.
** Serious.
*** Currently, I'm working with Chinese restaurant Buddha. Long-term, I'd like to lean more towards ascetic Buddha, though I would like to stop well short of being able to see the outline of my spine while looking at my stomach.
**** Honestly, part of my aversion to running is that people passing in cars really like to throw things at me. On at least two of the times I have gone out with friends, people driving by have thrown reasonably full cups of soda. On one instance, I think they threw an apple. Fortunately for me, their aim was poor, but it's a bit disheartening to know that I appear to be a waste receptacle for the discriminating person on the go.

Among the Reasons I Love Her

ACWIFE: 03:54:45 PM : hey
ACWIFE: 03:54:50 PM : you back?
ACWIFE: 03:55:01 PM : ever think about the word we use "decremental"...
ACWIFE: 03:55:34 PM : if I was going to think of an opposite of "incremental" it would have be excremental.... LOL get it?
ACWIFE: 03:55:37 PM : POOP
AC: 04:19:17 PM : hahahaha
AC: 04:19:27 PM : you are the funniest love in the world!
ACWIFE: 04:19:44 PM : hahahaah
ACWIFE: 04:19:54 PM : I'm just sitting over here looking through excremental usage...
ACWIFE: 04:19:55 PM : lol
AC: 04:20:03 PM : hahahah

You're a Funny One, Fedex

Don't get me wrong. I appreciate the speed with which Fedex delivered my package yesterday (even if it did cost me a pretty penny...okay, nearly two thousand pretty pennies), but I can't help but think that the following is not the best route to LA:



Oh yeah, just like the best way to a man's heart is through his stomach (depending on which way you're cutting), the best way to Los Angeles from San Diego is via Oakland. Nice work.

Every Timeshare Worker Is a Liar, Plus, Adventures in Surrealism

ACT I

(Scene: A Man in a bowler hat and his wife with a tiny umbrella walk down the Las Vegas Strip)

Man: What a lovely day for a constitutional!

Wife: Rather!

(Enter: a nefarious Penguin)

Penguin: Good day, goody two! Do you like steak?

Man: Do I!

Penguin: Would you like to see a free show?

Wife: Does the pope expunge his bowels in the woods?

Penguin: (With nasty, nefarious maleficence) Then just hop on this bus! It will take you to a vacation-ownership presentation that will take no more than one hour and one half!

Man: Bully! Capital idea!

ACT II

(Scene: Man in bowler hat and Wife with tiny umbrella are seated in a room with other presently happy couples. Sitting with Man and Wife is Imperial Penguin.)

Man: Now I understand this presentation will take no more than one hour and one half.

Imperial Penguin: Absolutely. This meeting will take no longer than one hour and one half. I assume you are already owners?

Man and Wife: (Blinking, in unison) Sorry, no. We sort of assumed us not being owners was what you were looking for when the other penguin got us from off of the street. Har Har!

Imperial Penguin: Absolutely. This meeting will absolutely take longer than one hour and one half.

Wife: But! You just said...

Imperial Penguin: I just said this meeting will absolutely take longer than one hour and one half.

Man: But! Before that...

Imperial Penguin: (Glances at waterfall in corner; water starts flowing backwards) QUACK! QUACK QUACK QUACK!!!

Man and Wife: (Run towards door.)

ACT III

(Scene: Man in bowler hat and Wife with tiny umbrella are seated at a restaurant.)

Wife: I am surprised that the Hawaiian Tropics Zone's waitresses are clad merely in swimsuits.

Man: (Removes bowler hat to reveal a daisy growing out of his bald head) As am I, my dear Wife; as am I.

Curtain

Grad School

I had this big audition for a variety of different grad schools for acting this morning at 11:53. I would like to think that I did well, but that can in part be gauged by if/when I get any interviews this afternoon with the different programs.

I guess there's not too much funny to talk about as far as today goes. I really, really hope that it works out for me.

Nostalgia

In my seemingly never-ending quest to jump through all of the hoops to get into graduate school, I called one of my professors from the college where I did my undergraduate work to ask both about a letter of recommendation and about a accompaniment track (as I need to sing for part of my audition this Friday (!) and the auditioners do not provide an accompanist, I need to find someone to record a track of what I will be singing).

When I called, it became obvious to me that I had called during a class-time, because I started to hear audio of this professor's music class. I assume that he had meant to press the red button to send me to voice mail, but had inadvertantly hit the green button which opened up the line. The obvious choice would have been to have immediately hung up, but I couldn't help remembering a lot of happy times in college learning and developing my love for music.

What I heard was some indistinguishable talking, and then notes on a piano. He must have been teaching a sight-singing class, and I immediately had a guess about their solfege form:

Do, re, mi, mi, fa, mi, re, do.

I listened as he explained that this easy sequence of notes was foundational to a good understanding and development of sight-singing and ear-training.

I immediately thought back to yesterday, when I showed up late to a call-back for a show, they asked me if I could sight-read music, I nodded, and they gave me a sheet with pretty difficult music and told me to go into the hall to review it. Fortunately, I had heard some of the song before (though not all of it together, and only the easier parts; I know this doesn't mean anything to most of you, but this song was going back and forth between major and minor in keys relative to the printed key: this was a difficult piece of music). When I got into the audition room, and they played the melody for me once or twice, I was actually pretty pleased with how close my practicing in the hall was to the actual melody; I think that my auditioners were impressed with how quickly I picked it up.

The next thing I heard on the phone call was a wavering voice, unsure of the solfege, trying to duplicate what the teacher had played on the piano. I remembered what life was life back as a freshman, and how impossible the idea of four semesters of sight-singing was. I even briefly switched majors because I of how much I didn't want to do four semesters of sight-singing. The wavering voice sang out:

Do, re, mi, mi, fa, mi, re, do.

My initial analysis had been correct.

I stayed on the phone for a couple of minutes, essentially peering in on this music class for a second time. I knew how hard it seemed, and I had just recently reaped the rewards of fighting through. I finally hung up the phone when the voices became too scrambled to really ascertain what was being said, but I did so with a smile.

Sometimes teachers know what they're talking about. Sometimes you can't help from smiling when you consider the foundations. Sometimes the hoops you have to jump through end up making you the person you wanted to be in spite of yourself.
Sometimes, just sometimes, you get a precious chance to look at the person you were from the vantage point of the person you are.

And all because somebody had the gift of mercy to press the wrong button.

Unreasonable

I think it has been well-established that I will seriously consider buying things that I don't really need. I am a sucker for bargain finding sites. I love checking the daily deal from Amazon. I love checking ebay and woot.com. And I really love slickdeals.net, where it just shows random stuff that someone online is selling on the cheap.

You can only imagine the joy and rapture I felt when I was at slick deals and I found this:

Five pounds of pens for under $20.

I think what drew me to this is the fact that the volume of pens is measured in, well, volume. While the listing does say that this is about 265 pens, the selling point is obviously that five pounds is stupidly large amount of pens. So stupidly large, in fact, that I could, presumably, become king of the pens. I will rule over my minions with a iron fist (that is, a hand that, according to my elementary school principal, was holding the pencil incorrectly, but I kept writing that way anyways [at least when he wasn't looking]. I guess I showed him, huh? All the way to the bank. Wait, what?).

The second selling point for me, at least, is this:

"Here's the scoop on this deal. Each pen is a brand new click pen. Most pens would sell for $0.40 or more each if you bought them in bulk blank. but these aren't blank. They have logos, addresses, phone numbers and more from various businesses. They're misprints and overruns from companies looking to promote themselves."

I'm sorry? Are you telling me that I could have pens that give non-useful information? I could have a pen promoting Little Darlin's BBQ @ 858-264-864, or another pen promoting The American Dream as found on Route 65? Sign me up! Oh wait! I'll do that myself with the weight of FIVE POUNDS OF PENS to back me up!

Finally, the last point on the page says this:

"You will be pleased with the quality."

Will I? I think this selling point is actually detrimental, because it reminds me of this Mexican food restaurant in my home town where the owners didn't have a great grasp on English, and so their advertisements billed this restaurant's foods as "OK MEXICAN FOOD!" Or, at least I thought they didn't have a good grasp up until a friend ate some nachos from there and found it topped with non-melted slices of American cheese sliced in half. Her response was, of course, that the sign was correct; it was just okay Mexican food.

Nevertheless, I can't see any way out of buying these pens. Please share methods for how I should deal with this unreasonable aspect of my personality (other than handing all my money over to my adorable wifey: she'll just try to spend the money on obvious things like food and shelter, which is all well and good, but I just have one little question: how do you sign the rent check without a pen? Check and mate).

How Can It Be So Awkward?

I have a lot of respect for folks who write software, particularly for people who write applications in a business environment. I certainly wouldn't want to comb through hundreds of lines of code in order to find why something isn't working, and there is something to be said for those who are willing to do that. Nevertheless, I can't seem to help getting into weird, unreasonable conversations whenever I'm asked to do something by them.

Setting: My Desk

They: So, I need you to QA this application I've written for you.

Me: Okay, so should I look at the data we already submitted for the third quarter and compare it to what the report is spitting out now?

They: (With a pained look) Actually, we already did that.

Me: (Not sure what to check in that case) Uh. So what should I look at then?

They: Well, you could look at fourth quarter data.

Me: (Not out loud) But...But...we only have the new data for the fourth quarter. How can I double-check it without having something to compare it to?

They: (Awkward glance)

Me: (Tears)

Lights out.

I ask you, gentle readers, how is anyone supposed to get out of that conversation without crying?

This Is My Pretension

Really? This was the top grossing movie in theatres for the last two weeks? When there are, you know, good movies to be seen, like Gran Torino, The Wrestler, Frost/Nixon, and, to a lesser extent, Bride Wars*?

I suppose I should be happy for Kevin James in that, if he, a man of size, is finding successful leading roles, then I might just have a shot myself down the line. Nevertheless, I can't help being a little disappointed that more people for two weeks in a row have flocked to that movie at the expense of better quality fare. I mean, at least wait a few months and rent it on Netflix, people! Have a little discretion! Aren't you ashamed when you walk up to the box office, fish $11 out of your velcro-fastening wallet, and mutter "One for Paul Blart, please?"

That's why I'll be going to the matinee. Suckers.

*You have to root for somebody who wears this dress.

Grad School and, Inconveniently to the Post, Football

I want to go to grad school for acting the same way that the Philadelphia Eagles play in the NFC Championship game: that is to say, badly. As a means to that end, I will be attending the U/RTA auditions in Las Vegas next week, and as, I hope, a direct result of that, I will get to achieve my goal. What this group does is it gets representatives for thirty to forty different grad schools for acting together, and then I, the auditionee, get to audition for them all at once. This is about a billion times more awesome than going from school to school individually, or, in layman's terms, it is inversely proportional to how awesome it would be if the Chargers moved out of San Diego: that is to say, the opposite of not very.

To get into acting shape, I auditioned for a musical here in San Diego last weekend, and my ego was stroked when I got a callback for this upcoming weekend. I got to sing the song that I will be singing, so that was definitely good practice; relatedly, good practice is what the Cardinals should be doing this week to have a chance against the Steelers: that is to say, though I would like the Steelers to lose, I suspect that won't be the case.

All that to say, if I can be successful next week at my audition, it will be as great as if the Chargers decide not to move to Los Angeles: which is to say, I think it would be great if the Chargers decide not to move to Los Angeles.

They Had My Number

I recently went through the application process to become a notary public (please note that I am explicitly not advertising notary services here, as I am not supposed to do so until I go through a few more steps). It wasn't very difficult; I mostly just had to go to a class and pass a test. After that it's just waiting to see if I pass the test (which I did) and then waiting to see if the Secretary of State decides to give me a commission. Once I receive my commission, I need to purchase a bond (to protect consumers in case I notarize something incorrectly [with a nod to a friend with a side business]) and then go take an oath with the county clerk.

I took the test on December tenth.

When I checked my mail yesterday, I received four offers from different bond companies congratulating me on my recent appointment as a notary. This came as quite a surprise to me as I still had not received anything from the Secretary of State, you know, telling me that I had received my commission.

Today, I came home and received my commission.

What this tells me is that, as soon as the Secretary of State announces that a person is getting commissioned, immediately the bond companies send out advertisements which are, in turn, faster at informing people of their notary status than the state of California is.

P.s.: When I tell people about this in real life, they don't think it's very funny or amusing, so if you didn't think it was funny, rest assured that you are in good company. I still think it's funny though.

A Way with Words

At my job, there are a number of flat screen tvs that are set to, primarily, different news stations. This is ostensibly so that folks can keep an eye on the stock market, but that's not what I watch.

You see, on CNN, in addition to running whatever news story that they are running, they have a little ticker on the bottom that gives brief news stories in 5 or 6 words. Due to how little space there is, this can get a little dicey, as I realized when I saw the following headline:

"Headline: Obama becomes our 44th, 1st black President."

Our 44th, 1st black President? Ie, our 44th black President? I'm pretty sure that that's what should be the news on the main screen, as I'm certain most of the country thinks that the 43 preceeding Presidents have been white men.

The way they worded it reminds me of that Panther cologne from Anchorman, that had the tag line "60% of the time it works every time." That's good work, CNN. Keep up the roundabout Anchorman references.

Beating a Dead Horse

In light of my recent infatuation with a certain dead President, I have been doing some searches for a certain Mr. Buchanan on various internet sites. I was searching on Ebay the other day, and I believe I may have found something that no one could ever possibly want:

A James Buchanan Mousepad

Now it could just be that I am vastly underestimating the demand there is for mousepads (after all, "Build a better mousepad, and the world will beat a path to your door" as the old saying goes), but I have to think that the demand for mousepads featuring obscure 19th century Presidents approaches zero, right alongside consumer desire for mouse pads with serial killers and New Kids on the Block.

At least, the above were my original thoughts. I then got to thinking that perhaps I am the demand-side of this little economics 101 example. After all, if there is exactly one mouse pad in existence featuring James Buchanan, and I am exactly one person who has more than a passing interest in him, maybe I should buy it. The world economy is in such a poor state as it is, I would be doing a disservice to the populace of earth by not doing my part as a good consumer and purchasing it.

And so I shall (because, in truth, I do need a new mouse pad; the one I have at work is getting grimy and disgusting). My only real concern is that, upon viewing my new desk fixture, conversations such as the following will occur:



Hmm. Maybe it's not such a good idea to buy it after all.

Surprise of Inauguration Day

Currently on CNN, they are running the following fact:

"Mr. Obama & Mr. Biden [are] receiving inscribed, engraved crystal bowls as gifts from the American people."

I'm sorry, what? I didn't know I was pitching in to give the new President and Vice-President a gift! Shouldn't they have at least sent around a card to sign?

Now, I am not begrudging these fine folks their presents. What says "Presidential Inauguration" like receiving a punch bowl after all? All I am saying is that if a gift was going to be made in my name, then I wish I would have had some say in it.

The Miseducation of AC

Here are some facts that I'm pretty sure only I find interesting, as I, for entirely no reason, completed my needlessly unexhaustive research into the life of President James Buchanan:



1) Buchanan is generally regarding as one of the worst Presidents due to his lack of action in the years leading up to the Civil War. Huh, nowadays historians think George W. will be remembered as a horrible President for getting into a war, and (out of the other side of their mouths) they claim that Buchanan was one of the worst for staying out of a war. It looks like the historians and the liberal media elite are in bed together, so to speak. Probably having tea, I'd say.

2) Buchanan was considered a "doughface," which at the time meant a northerner who was sympathetic with the south. Nowadays, calling someone a doughface would probably be misinterpreted as calling them a doughboy, though I think some similarities could be argued about between James and Mr. Pillsbury.



3) Due to the facts that he never married and that he lived for many years with a man named William Rufus DeVane King (whom Andrew Jackson referred to alternately as "Miss Nancy" or "Aunt Fancy" [I'm not sure why he didn't choose one nickname and stick with it; I presume he broke out different slurs based on the occasion]), many have speculated that James Buchanan was our first gay President. Nevertheless, due to some investigative journalism on the part of this writer (ie, assuming the domain "jamesbuchanan.com" would be about the 15th president, and not, as it is, about a ranching couple), I may have found someone who may be trying to close the gap in this regard. You see, in referencing himself and his wife on his webpage, the latter day James Buchanan says "Jim and Barb are both horsemen who enjoy the back country." I think you see my point. The only other possible reading I can come up with is that these people are centaurs, which seems to gain credence when I consider that their picture only shows them from the waist up.

4) There is a President Buchanan fan club online, which is located at jamesbuchanan.net. Here you can find fun facts and videos, though the videos are likely not of Buchanan (as he was dead at the time of the invention of moving pictures).

5) He wrote the first Presidential memoir, which was the awesomely titled Mr Buchanan's Administration on the Eve of the Rebellion. If that book is halfway as interesting as the title is long, well brother, that's probably a mighty fine book.

P.S.: Entirely unrelatedly, we can now know for certain that cats are jerks (with thanks to The Modern Gal).

My Six Month Check In

My doctor has had me come in every six months just to check in to see how I'm doing for the last couple years, which I think is pretty nice of him, except for the following inevitable conversation (paraphrased, of course).

Doctor: So...you're pretty fat, huh?

AC: Yeah, I guess so.

Doctor: Hmm. Well, your blood pressure is somewhere between fire hose and viagra user, so I think that's okay. It's 128/82.

AC: Well, that's good.

Doctor: Yeah, well, maybe, uhm, have I given you any info about the various weight loss classes that are available through our offices?

AC: Yeah, I think so.

Doctor: Well, here is some info about a 12 week class that we have. You should consider it.

AC: Will do.

Doctor: See you in six months. Try to lose some weight.

In all fairness, my doctor is a pretty friendly guy in general, but I am growing to dislike this conversation (accurate though it may be). Part of the problem is that six months always seems like a long time, and I keep saying that I'll start dieting after that next rack of lamb. Unfortunately for me, my time management skills are not so good, and so I easily lose track of when it is that I need to schedule a new appointment. Fortunately, I receive a reminder call before my appointment. Unfortunately, that call is two days prior to the appointment, and, as has been well documented, it is almost impossible to lose the requisite 200 pounds in 2 days.*

Incidentally, my brother has taken up running half marathons. This is easy for him as he is swift as a gazelle and twice a virile. He has encouraged me to try to run one with him later this year. In fact, he wants me, my older brother, and my dad to all run one with him in September. In an effort to get the ball rolling, my wife and I have started going for jogs. It is my hope to get into shape enough to take part with my family.

And, hey, the doctor wants to see me in three months this time, so I hope to have made some progress by then. Wouldn't he be surprised? Hopefully I can get my blood pressure down to the most interesting man in the world levels.

*I am not 200 pounds over weight; however, the doctor's office doesn't have a livestock scale, so it is difficult to say with certainty how much I need to lose.