1. Woke up early, and got to see the sun rise.
2. Found $3 on the ground.
3. A really nice person I met through YouTube sent me audio rips of the DVD commentaries of "The Mighty Boosh" (the DVDs are R2). And it wasn't as if I begged her to do it; she just offered, and then promptly followed up!
4. Watched "Momma's Man." Very good. Spent most of the time wishing that I had a name like Azazel.
5. Watched this:
I WANT CANNNNDY!
I will keep you abreast of all new developments.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Sunday, May 10, 2009
HERE
Humor is the only thing that makes us human.
Go ahead, call me on it. Lay into me. Correct me. Modify me. Please do! I would love to refine this idea I've been nursing since my early days of high school.
Go ahead, call me on it. Lay into me. Correct me. Modify me. Please do! I would love to refine this idea I've been nursing since my early days of high school.
RE DANK
In the post before last I used the word "dank" in its slangular sense; that is, to say that something is "cool." I'd like to take this opportunity of having a keyboard in front of me and four beers in me to say that I discovered this term. My brother, who is fourteen and cool-for-high-school (meaning that he plays sports), said that one day his friend came in and said, apropos of nothing, "who wants some of this dang crack?" Now, I usually hate "crack" jokes, because they're usually lazy and I've seen too many of my friends and peers swallowed up by it to ever find the topic anything but unutterably heartbreaking (and the same goes for crystal meth).
But when my brother repeated what his friend said to me, it sounded as if he said "dank crack," which, for whatever reason, was hilarious to me. The conflation of the concept of crack (horrible) with the concept of a musty basement in desperate need of a dehumidifier (mundane) made me laugh but hard. And now I'm saying it! And writing it, on my silly blog! I'd say help me, but you and I both know the vicissitudes of language. They are not to be helped.
But when my brother repeated what his friend said to me, it sounded as if he said "dank crack," which, for whatever reason, was hilarious to me. The conflation of the concept of crack (horrible) with the concept of a musty basement in desperate need of a dehumidifier (mundane) made me laugh but hard. And now I'm saying it! And writing it, on my silly blog! I'd say help me, but you and I both know the vicissitudes of language. They are not to be helped.
WHAT A WEEKEND
Yesterday I was coming home from Balducci's (ha ha New York, we still have 'em) when I saw none other than American Hero Matthew Lesko.
He was riding on a red motor scooter covered with yellow question marks down River Road, because of course he was. What, did you think he was not going to do that?
(not my picture; when I saw him he was in a comparatively normal suit)
My brother and I waved at him, and he lit up like a clown on duty, waving broadly and sticking his tongue out. Talk about class acts! So, so fun! I've never seen Mr. Lesko out and about, so now I feel like a proper DC-er (other r-q's: vacationing at Ocean City/Delaware's Beachy Mile, deciding that you'll root for BOTH the Nationals and the Orioles, realizing that DC/Maryland* is a synecdoche of America). It totally made up for that horrible employee of Balducci's giving me (I know, ME) the stink-eye when I--get this--TOOK A FREE SAMPLE OFF OF A FREE SAMPLE TRAY. She said that she had some spiel that was supposed to go along with it, so I shouldn't have been so grabby, and also, the sample in question was wine (so again, perhaps I was too grabby, it being a controlled substance and all).
BUT, in my defense, 1) she was not manning the station when I approached, which naturally engendered confusion vis a vis protocol/procedure as to what should be taken and what shouldn't (I even shrugged my shoulders as if to say "I guess it's OK to take this, because there's no one here to tell me not to or to examine my ID; I am, as far every bit of information that this situation is providing me suggests, proceeding in the expected manner") AND 2) when I saw her approaching I immediately brandished my ID to prove that the 0.02 ounces of wine in the "cup" (barely big enough to hold a small bit of spit in) was, for me, legally consumable. There was no need, therefore, to give me a look like I had just snotted all over the vegetables and then launched into a five minute disquisition on why that was an unequivocal good.
So and then Sunday. I saw my red-headed cousin Kelly (she had on a "Panic! At the Disco" shirt on and talked about her upcoming study-abroad to Russia (yay Kells!)), ate a muffuletta, and watched tunza "The Mighty Boosh." My brother was complaining about the weekend he had: he had to go to Balducci's (he is more a "sports guy") and then spend Sunday at his grandparents' (he is fourteen), but my weekend was really...pretty great.
*DC is Maryland. Back me up on this ppls!
He was riding on a red motor scooter covered with yellow question marks down River Road, because of course he was. What, did you think he was not going to do that?
(not my picture; when I saw him he was in a comparatively normal suit)
My brother and I waved at him, and he lit up like a clown on duty, waving broadly and sticking his tongue out. Talk about class acts! So, so fun! I've never seen Mr. Lesko out and about, so now I feel like a proper DC-er (other r-q's: vacationing at Ocean City/Delaware's Beachy Mile, deciding that you'll root for BOTH the Nationals and the Orioles, realizing that DC/Maryland* is a synecdoche of America). It totally made up for that horrible employee of Balducci's giving me (I know, ME) the stink-eye when I--get this--TOOK A FREE SAMPLE OFF OF A FREE SAMPLE TRAY. She said that she had some spiel that was supposed to go along with it, so I shouldn't have been so grabby, and also, the sample in question was wine (so again, perhaps I was too grabby, it being a controlled substance and all).
BUT, in my defense, 1) she was not manning the station when I approached, which naturally engendered confusion vis a vis protocol/procedure as to what should be taken and what shouldn't (I even shrugged my shoulders as if to say "I guess it's OK to take this, because there's no one here to tell me not to or to examine my ID; I am, as far every bit of information that this situation is providing me suggests, proceeding in the expected manner") AND 2) when I saw her approaching I immediately brandished my ID to prove that the 0.02 ounces of wine in the "cup" (barely big enough to hold a small bit of spit in) was, for me, legally consumable. There was no need, therefore, to give me a look like I had just snotted all over the vegetables and then launched into a five minute disquisition on why that was an unequivocal good.
So and then Sunday. I saw my red-headed cousin Kelly (she had on a "Panic! At the Disco" shirt on and talked about her upcoming study-abroad to Russia (yay Kells!)), ate a muffuletta, and watched tunza "The Mighty Boosh." My brother was complaining about the weekend he had: he had to go to Balducci's (he is more a "sports guy") and then spend Sunday at his grandparents' (he is fourteen), but my weekend was really...pretty great.
*DC is Maryland. Back me up on this ppls!
Friday, May 8, 2009
DANK NEWS
Michael Kupperman's "Snake & Bacon" is airing on Adult Swim May 10 (Saturday night/Sunday morning) at 12:45!
(image shamefully stolt from Here Comes Madness)
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
RECONSIDERATIONS
I've been re-watching The Mighty Boosh late-a-ly, and this time I think I've got it. I was always uncomfortable with how the Vince character is...perfect. Except for being a little dumb, he's beloved and usually very lucky. How can you have a comedy work with a character like that?
But what makes it work is that this character is best friends with Howard, a rather loser-ish, history-teacher-type, and chooses to spend most of his time with him. It's like if Jenny Lewis were best friends with Andrea Dworkin, and neither of them were successful. Do you get it now, too?
But what makes it work is that this character is best friends with Howard, a rather loser-ish, history-teacher-type, and chooses to spend most of his time with him. It's like if Jenny Lewis were best friends with Andrea Dworkin, and neither of them were successful. Do you get it now, too?
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