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Friday, July 09, 2004
Movies This Week: The Next Generation
Miss Movies This Week?
Our friend Jette at Celluloid Eyes says she's stolen the concept (I prefer "given a new home to the idea since Omar's lazy ass up and quit") and I'm assuming she'll be doing it now every week like I was doing.
I thought about asking someone to carry the torch before I ended the weekly feature, but I honestly didn't think anybody would be interested in carrying it on. I'm very, very glad that Jette, a person much more knowledgable about movies than I'll ever be despite my recent job title, is doing it. I know she'll be great. Go check it out.
Thursday, July 08, 2004
Regarding the yogurt problem - I also have issues with yogurt lids. But I discovered that puncturing the foil lid with a fork tine or the handle of your spoon prior to peeling it off renders your chances of Obscene Yogurt Splorchery quite diminished. Thus rescuing you from the scourge of Go-Gurt.
So there, Yogurt. You've been bested. Cry your milky, sticky defeat.
Wednesday, July 07, 2004
Chillin' (the libido) at the Holiday Inn
South Padre Island was really very nice, and I do indeed love kids, but something about the piercing screams, the mass number of floaties and the everpresence of one porous yellow cartoon character inspired me to write about our Holiday Inn experience on Ye Yonder XL Blogge.
And yes, the subject of kids does come up often. I've almost convinced Rebecca that we should adopt from China. Like a 15-year-old, at least, preferably one who already has a steady source of income.
Tuesday, July 06, 2004
The crank II
By the way, I am now blogging about yogurt lids.
I am officially a hack.
I mean, I was before, but now I'm officially admitting it.
Damn you, yogurt.
Could somebody please invent a fucking yogurt lid that doesn't spurt at me when I open it like I just accidentally wandered onto the set of a porno movie?
Am I opening yogurt wrong? I swear it happens every time. I hold the foil lid away from me, squinting my eyes, knowing it's going to spurt. And I open it veeeeeeeerrrrry carefully and slowly. I pull the lid.
All on my pants. And then schoolgirls walk by, giggling and pointing, and I get arrested.
It's not fair.
Are there secret instructions I don't know about? Am I supposed to just punch through the lid like some caveman yogurt eater? Shouldn't there be a "Contents Under Pressure" warning label somewhere?
I'm not a litigious man. I'm not going to Jackie Chiles this for $5 million. So what am I going to eat now? Am I going to have to switch to Go-Gurt? How emasculating is that? I'm an adult. A man. I should be able to eat low-fat orange cream yogurt without feeling like a lech.
I hate you, yogurt lid manufacturers of America. I hate you and your spurting, faulty industry.
Sunday, July 04, 2004
Breakfast at McDonald's, South Padre Island
"'He was her only way out.'"
"That guy over there. You know how you look at couples sometimes and they just don't go together and you think, 'That guy was her only way out.' "
"The lady with the two kids?"
"Yeah. Like when you see a really improverished-looking Latina or a woman who might be a mail-order bride with a white guy who's kind of homely but probably has some money. He's got that fishy lips thing going. Their kids are gonna have that, too."
"Our kids will probably have that because you're talking about it."
"Only if you have sex with that guy. She doesn't look too happy over there. 'She went from cleaning toilets at a hotel to cleaning toilets for this guy.' "
"Stop looking over there. He's gonna -- he's looking over here!"
"'He was her only way out.' Now she has a brand new life."
"Look at that lady."
"The one walking out?"
"She doesn't have underwear on."
"Yeah she does. It's just ... in the crease there. Her ass crease."
"She has a pancake ass."
"Does mine look like that?"
"No. Yours is... delightfully round."
"Why does her kid have a muscle shirt? Why does anybody wear muscle shirts?"
"I thought that was obvious. To show off the muscles."
"But most people who wear them don't have muscles."
"Yeah, I agree it's tragic."
"Your brother wears them."
"But he has muscles."
"So does your dad."
"I think they're ugly."
"I don't think I own a single one. I phased them out with the parachute pants and the sweater vests."
"You still have some vests."
"Way back in the dark side of the closet with the collar-less shirts and the silk robe."
"But parents put their chubby kids in muscle shirts. Why do they do that?"
"Wait, like that one? Right there. Ooohhh. Oh man. Ay, pobrecito. That's just wrong."
"Our kids are going to be hyper and near-sighted and bushy-headed."
"I can't wait. Do you want to get steralyzed, or should I?"
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