Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Funny Money

I usually have nutty drawers too.  I'm currently out.  I tend to OD on nuts, which kind of defeats the purpose of them being a slightly fatty, but not-too-fatty, and oh-so-filling snack.  Thing is, I keep eating them because I am starving.  About 10 minutes after I arbitrarily stop eating them, I get super-full and feel like I'm gonna throw up.  Even when I count out a reasonable portion, I'm still so hungry and I can't resist eating more!  What is wrong with me.  Ugh.

You do not have to be a brewer to go to the Brewer's Fest - just to have a booth there.  I think most of the people there are just beer aficionados.  Read: Men.  I generalize, but it's pretty true.  It was all either gaggles of fratty dudes or chubby middle aged couples.  And me and Chris.  It made me feel very beautiful.  I like places like that.  You could have come with us, for sure.  AND yelled at Rahm.  I haven't seen him again, though I got the idea that he was going to pop out of his house (like Phil the groundhog) the other day when NBC was there, aiming their cameras at the front door.

I did see Fritz the outdoor cat yesterday though.

I always suck at festivals as well.  I think for me it's just the weird pressure of spending lots of time and money to do one show.  You don't want to suck at it.  But sometimes improv sucks.  Often, improv sucks.

You've not mentioned that you hate playing in pHlip Cup.  Why do you hate it?  Is it because you're trying to steer the show toward a finite end?  I like it.

It weirds me out how babies look like their parents.  I mean, it makes sense in a whole Gregor Mendel pea pod kind of way, but it's just weird that you breed people and tiny ones that are a little of each of them, and then some of something else.

Our mailroom guy, Bernie, retired yesterday - it was a whole to-do.  He's been working here for 34 years.  Isn't that crazy?  He's been working here (presumably in that job - I mean, there's not really anything lower on the totem pole here...) for longer than I've been alive.  He's a nice guy, and great at his job, obviously.  It'll suck to have him go.  A couple things of note from the party:

1) It was super-long.  11am-3pm.
2) The company gave him a trip to Gettysburg (he loves the Civil War).  The actual people in the office all chipped in to help him pay for other stuff.  Food, souvenirs, etc.  I wasn't sure how they'd give it to him.  Like, a Visa gift card or something.  But they just gave him this box with a stack of cash in it.  It must have been like 4 inches thick.  It was awesome.  I would love that as a present.  Except I'd be super-paranoid going home from work.
3) People were saying memories about Bernie, and I chipped in and said a couple jokey things, people laughed, whatever.  But then all afternoon, people kept coming up to me and going, "Oh, ha ha!  You were so funny at Bernie's party!" "You are hilarious!" etc.  Which is fine - it's just funny, because they seemed surprised or impressed or something.  I mean, I've worked here for a while, but it's not like I really hang out with these people, and most don't know what I do.  And I don't really find it necessary to be particularly outgoing at work.  I just plod along and save it for the stage.  Or at least other people that will be funny back.  I just said "oh!  Thank you!" a lot, but it is a little hard to refrain from being like, "Well, I'd better be - I'm a comedian," or "You ain't seen nuthin', Bub." 

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Jamba Bombs

My quinoa burrito was quite filling.  It held me over until my regular late afternoon almond snack.  That's right.  I have almonds in my desk.  I keep my nuts in my drawers.

I don't even pretend that I'm doing something healthy when I go to Jamba Juice.  Those things are calorie bombs, but boy are they delicious.  On the plus side, they don't make you feel all heavy and weird like so many other "treats."

Clayton is brilliant and he makes it seem so effortless.  I have to work for my brilliance.  His just comes naturally.  I enjoy when he grows a mustache.  His is the only mustache in the world that can bring me joy.

I said Twitter is awesome.  Stop pooping on the one social media site I truly love.  Actually, I totally get why some people wouldn't love Twitter.  I only like it because it's the perfect social media for lazy people.  I can just post and whoever wants to follow me can follow me.  I don't have to approve them, I don't have to worry about their birthdays and I don't have to follow them back.  You don't have to worry about privacy settings, either.  Their privacy is simply, "Don't be stupid enough to post something you don't want the whole world to potentially see."

The Midwest Brewer's Festival sounds awesome.  Do you have to be a brewer to go?  Could I have hitched a ride and drank a bunch of awesome beer for $40 and gotten completely wasted and puked in the back of what I assume is Chris' car and then shouted obscenities at the Mayor once we got back to your place?  I would have loved to do that.  Or even just the first two parts of that.

Paid gigs are weird.  Festivals, too.  I'm always terrible in both.  I don't know exactly why but I think it has something to do with the fact that I'm performing in a strange place and it takes me a while to get comfortable in strange places.  A while in this case equals three weeks.  I never have that kind of time for these gigs.  Anyway, I'm old and the improv inside of me is dying so I won't have to worry about that for much longer.

Speaking of being uncomfortable, have I mentioned that I hate performing in pHlip Cup?  Ugh, it's awful.  However, I highly recommend anyone reading to go see pHlip Cup because it is a fun show to watch and you get to play Flip Cup after.

On Saturday, Dee and I went to visit some of her high school friends.  When they saw Scarlett they all said, "She looks just like Dee."  That's fine.  I think she looks like Dee in some ways but not "just like" Dee.  At this point she's old enough that I think she looks more like Scarlett than either me or Dee.

Monday, August 29, 2011

Baby Beers

So, were you full for long enough after your quinoa burrito at Protein Bar?  I've always had the bowls, which are quite filling, I think.  I had my first smoothie there the other day, and it was really good, though not as delicious as the ones from Jamba Juice.  I'm imagining, though, that it's because they're better for you.  Though, I do get the light smoothies at JJ - not the ones with sherbet in them.   

You're right about Clayton in the bit-threads.  He nails it.  He nailed the Dan/Martha roast too, even though he wasn't even there.  Dick.

I never drank before college either.  I still went to some of the parties, though. I mostly just fed people bread and gave them water and then drove them home. 

I know you love Twitter.  This is why I got more glee in denouncing it that I normally would.  I don't really hate it.  It just doesn't interest me.  At all.  I don't mind it being there.  People can chatter as much as they like. 

Chris and I went to the Midwest Brewer's Festival on Saturday.  It was awesome, because there were around 50 breweries there, giving out tasting portions of their beer.  Note: It wasn't just willy-nilly.  Admission was $40, and then you got 25 tickets to redeem for beer.  I would have relished this way more if I hadn't had to a) drive us home, since it was in Plainfield, and b) do a gig that night.  So, I ended up having about 9 little beerlettes, and then giving my tickets away to some strangers in the food tent.  I am totally one of those "I've got to get what I paid for" kind of people.  I always get wasted at those open bar parties where you pay $20 or $30 to get in.  I WILL NOT BE TAKEN ADVANTAGE OF!  So, it was quite an exercise in self-restraint to spend $40 for the equivalent of about 2 1/2 beers, let me tell you. 

The gig later on was a birthday party for a lady in her 60's in Skokie.  It was in the Beer Garden of some Irish bar.  No stage or anything.  The show was fine, though.  The people/birthday girl really seemed to enjoy it.  And I was struck with the injustice of doing awkward, mediocre improv and getting paid handsomely for it, while at our normal pH shows, we do some really brilliant work a lot of the time, and make no money, and hardly anyone sees it.  Buh.

Friday, August 26, 2011

Quinoa Virgin No More

I just got back from Protein Bar.  (I'm super dedicated to this blog.  If we made any money off this thing, I could have written off this lunch as "research.")  I'm stuffing my face with a quinoa laden burrito right now.  It's very tasty.  I was initially concerned about the ability of this burrito to fill me up, but I have a feeling that all the protein that is packed into this thing will make me feel nice and full.  I have a feeling I'll make a Protein Bar trip a regular Friday occurrence.  At least until the weather gets shitty.

My spellcheck seems to handle quinoa just fine.  When I ask my computer to speak the word to me in it's robot voice (much like Ebert uses his to talk now) it pronounces it KWEEN-oh so I guess it will be a while before the robot revolution.

There are times when I don't mind that the pH emails devolve into bits, but mostly it annoys me because they are rarely funny unless Clayton chimes in.  He doesn't chime in enough.

I don't know if you knew I was in ROTC or not.  I didn't really do it for my dad, though he did suggest that it was a good way to help pay for a really expensive college.  With my life.  Actually, it didn't even seem that dangerous at the time because it was during the Clinton administration which focused more on making love than war.  Of course, I dropped out before America started paying my tuition.  Instead, I just had a ton of loans to pay off like most students.

I did a whole lot of other shit to please my dad, though.  I put on a "David Ford for Prosecutor" and "David Ford for State Senator" t-shirt and rode my bike in parades.  I played basketball to please him even though I didn't want to.  Turns out I really liked it.  I also skipped every single party ever thrown in high school because I didn't want to get in trouble with my dad.  That's why I never had a beer before college.  Plus, no one wants to invite the Prosecutor's son to an underage drinking party.

New college professors are dangerous.  I had that same thing happen to me a couple times.  The second time I convinced him to grade everyone on a curve.  I wasn't going to let this dude ruin the mediocre GPA that I had worked so hard to bring up from awful after the first semester of my freshman year.  When I went to college I thought I was going to be an engineer of some type.  That dream was quickly shattered when I failed Physics and got a D in Calculus.  I'm sure it had nothing to do with the fact that I had recently tasted my first beer.

Anyway, I can't really do things to make my dad happy since he's all dead and stuff.

I disagree.  I love Twitter.  I've said this before in many other places, but Twitter is Facebook without all the bullshit.  In fact, I almost exclusively use Facebook through Twitter.  I do tend to agree that the hashtags are often stupid and a cheap way to make a joke, but when have I ever been afraid of being cheap and stupid?  Not since my dad died.

Thursday, August 25, 2011

Undercover Mother

I am shocked, SHOCKED! to learn that you are unfamiliar with quinoa.  I blame America.  If you ever feel like strolling an extra block or two to get your lunch, there is a fantastic place called Protein Bar on Franklin and Adams that has a total boner for quinoa and makes lots of tasty things with it.  If you do go, don't go during regular lunch hours, because the line gets insane.  Like, Garrett's Popcorn-long, but with fit young people instead of old obese ones.  You can also find it in bulk at Whole Foods, or SOMETIMES at Jewel, but only after you say "KEEN-WAH!  It looks like kwin-o-ah, but it's pronounced KEEN-WAH" and "it's a grain" about twenty times to the workers, until finally some other health-conscious guest overhears you and points you toward the one little hole in the shelf where it used to be before they sold out.

Note: Spellcheck hasn't even heard of quinoa.  It wants me to change it to "Quinta."
My mom had a silver Crown Victoria for a few years when I was a kid, and people always thought that it was an undercover cop car because that's what the Falmouth Police Department had.  They would always drive so slowly in front of us.  She would get quite impatient and peel around them.  She, like me, likes to drive well above the speed limit.

I love it when the pH e-mails devolve into bits.  I prefer it that way.  It makes me laugh.  Unless I'm actually trying to get answers from people, but have to weed out the jokes.  Like when I was trying to see who wanted to play fantasy football, but half of the replies were about elves.  I don't think the filters would help with that, though. 

Did I know that you were in the ROTC for a while?  I don't particularly find it shocking or anything - maybe a little.  Was this a please-my-dad kind of thing that didn't pan out? 

I took Microeconomics my Freshman year in college to please my dad.  Then I got a C- in it, and killed my GPA.  In my defense, the teacher was new, and clearly had no clue that intro courses are not supposed to be insanely hard.  I even had my friend Forbes, (right??) who was a Junior and an Econ major, look at my homework one time, and he hadn't learned some of the stuff we were getting tested on.  When more than half the class fails a test, you need to start thinking about changing your methods, or at least grade on a fucking curve.

Since that, I have never put another thought into doing something I really don't want to do just to make my dad happy.  If I used Twitter, I'd be all, "#wronglessonslearned" or "#nevertrynewthings" or some shit.


Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Undercover ROTC

Quinoa?  As in, the grain-like crop that is a species of goosefoot that is mainly grown for its edible seeds? Yeah, I've never heard of it.  The Wikipedia article makes it sound very nutritious.  A grain that is also a complete protein?  That's amazing!  Clearly proof that god exists! (God doesn't exist.)

Now that I'm done being an asshole about it, I'll have to try some.

People are not good about picking up their dog's poop.  In fact, people are downright terrible at picking up their dog's poop.  I thought it was just my neighborhood, but it's everywhere.  Simply due to the fact that I've picked up my dog's poop more than once (I do it every time, by the way) puts me in the top 99th percentile of responsible dog owners in this city.

I love that undercover cop cars aren't really undercover at all.  It's always painfully obvious which cars are unmarked cop cars and which are regular people's cars.  No one is fooled by this.  I suspect that they don't actually want to fool people but simply not put people on edge.

You should also employ Gmail's filtering options.  It allows you to automatically add labels as emails come in.  You can even have them skip the inbox and go directly to their designated folder.  I do that with a lot of the Yelp and Gap-type emails.  You know how sometimes pH emails get out of control with everyone trying to be super hilarious and they keep replying to the whole cast and you're eventually like, "Enough with the bits!  I know rehearsal time has changed, leave me alone."  You know what I'm talking about.  Anyway, select the conversation, click on the "More" button at the top of your inbox and click "Mute" and you won't have to get any more of those stupid bit emails.  I do this all the time.

I have had my pupils dilated.  Before I went to college I had to get a physical from the Air Force (because I was going to be in ROTC).  They were very thorough.  There was a chance that I might become a pilot so they did all sorts of funky eye tests.  At one point they put dye in my eyes and I saw everything as blue or red or whatever color the dye was.  I think that was to test colorblindness.  Or maybe it was to insert a tracking chip into my brain.  I don't know.  I do remember sitting in the lobby waiting for the effects of the various dyes to wear off so they could put different stuff in.  It was weird and took a long time.  My grandfather had to guide me out of the building.  I dropped out of ROTC during my sophomore year so it was all for nothing.  It wasn't all for nothing.  I did get a funny hat out of the deal.


I can't wait until quinoa becomes more popular.  It makes no sense that most people have never heard of it.  It's delicious, and it's insanely good for you.  Get on it, America.  Quinoa. 

Yeah - barf is worse than poop.  You're right.  I'm kind of a sympathetic barfer.  I always gag when I'm near puke, or if I hear it.  Seeing poop doesn't make me need to dump.  Thank goodness, because people aren't always great about picking up after their dogs.

I haven't made any unique observations yet about Rahm - I've only seen him the one time so far.  But, he's only lived there for a week.  I can't imagine that I won't see him more.  Especially if, as the Trib reports, he keeps taking the brown line to work.  I like living across from him.  There is always an undercover cop car in front of his house.  I mean, I think it's undercover.  It's pretty obviously a cop car, but there's not a light and lettering and stuff.  Either way.  It's very reassuring that when you're walking home at night, you're probably pretty safe getting home.   

Maybe I should remodel my Gmail use as well.  It sounds appealing to know that the e-mails that you see are the ones you have to deal with, instead of half of them being from Yelp or The Gap or Zambian Princes or whatever. 

Yesterday I had to go to the eye doctor to get my pupils dilated.  Have you ever had this done?  I guess it's pretty routine, but people don't get around to it often because it's a huge pain in the ass.  The actual procedure is fine - they just give you drops and then you sit around while your pupils get huge.  Then they just peek into your eye for a minute while you look around.  Afterward, though, you can't read anything, and you're super-sensitive to light.  Basically, you turn into an illiterate vampire.  Which, probably, most vampires are, unless they were home-schooled.  As if vampires weren't freaky enough - imagine a home-schooled one.

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

It seems that cats are more sensible with their diets than most humans.  We tend to try to avoid things rife with nutrients.  It makes me think that dead kittens aren't very tasty.  I mean, I just ate a big mouthful of spinach and it tasted like stale farts, but that bite was full of nutrients!

I'm a pro at handling poop.  Poop ain't no thang, in the parlance of our times or maybe of times recently past.  Poop doesn't phase me.  I haven't yet built up an immunity to handling puke, however.  Right now, Scarlett just spits up breast milk which is pretty easy to handle.  No big deal.  However, Ruthie pukes more often than you might think and I pretty much always gag when trying to clean that up.  Dog puke has a special texture and smell all its own.  It's the worst substance I've ever encountered.

I love that Rahm swore upon request but not right away.  The fact that he saved it for later made it even better.  Have you made any unique observations about our mayor that you find interesting or surprising?

Yes, Matrimonious is fantastic.  You and Dan did a great job.  I did see something about him getting cast for something but I didn't know what.  Interesting.  He'll be an FBI agent in the new Superman film, huh?  That feels like major spoiler alert.  I mean, now that I know the FBI will be in the Superman movie, why should I even bother?  Also, Superman will save the day.

I totally misused the star system as well.  About a year ago, I completely changed the way I use Gmail.  I label and archive everything as soon as I'm done with it.  That way, the only emails that are in my inbox are ones that I still have to respond to or new emails that just came in.  I have three emails in my inbox right now.  Eff stars.  Stars ain't worth shit.

Now it's time to eat this banana.

Monday, August 22, 2011

Dead Kittens and Poop

I started researching to find you an article on cats eating their stillborn kittens, but I got too depressed reading articles on dead kittens and had to stop.  Anyway, apparently stillborn kittens are rife with nutrients.  And the moms have to do something with them, right?

Between walking Ruthie and changing Scarlett, are you pretty much immune to touching poop now?  Poop is gross.  You're gross.

I wish Rahm would have sworn at me.  Chris' friend Lance met him once and requested that Rahm tell him to "Go fuck yourself."  Rahm just laughed.  Then when he was on his way out a while later, he turned to Lance
and said, "Hey.  Go fuck yourself."  I like this.  The man has flair.

Aw, thanks for re-watching some Matrimonious.  I really enjoyed making that show, and was really proud of how it turned out.  I wish we could have made more, but stupid Dan had to follow his dream or whatever.  Did you see that he just got cast as an FBI agent in the upcoming Superman movie?

I was just going through my Gmail and unstarring, dealing with, or deleting starred things.  I still have starred things from 2007.  Clearly, I'm not using the star system to its full potential.  And I am awful at responding to people.  This has increased since getting a smart phone.  I never want to write people back on it, because it's a pain in the ass to tap out a whole big e-mail. But then I forget all about it.  Dumb.

Friday, August 19, 2011

Swearing Senators

Eating your egg baby would make you look hungry.  Also, smart -- because you know what to do with a freaking egg.  Babies are not nearly as easy to break as an egg.  It's a poor substitute.  Also, eggs don't poop as much.

Whoa, whoa, whoa.  Cats eat their stillborn kittens?  Cats are fucked up.  Though, aren't there people who eat their child's placenta?  Is it the child's placenta or the mother's?  I guess it's the mother's.  Either way, don't be a cannibal.

The Fritz story upsets me.  Untethered animals in the city are not cool.  I hate it when people in my neighborhood don't leash their dogs.  Sure, your dog may be very well behaved and won't stray off into the street to get hit by a car, but do you know how it's going to react when another dog freaks out and starts barking at your unleashed dog?  Do you?  I can tell you from experience, no, you don't.  Now you have no way to restrain your dog and I'm forced to insert myself between my freaking out little dog and your enormous, enraged dog.  As if picking up feces didn't already ruin what might have been a nice walk.

Also, how do you know that Fritz won't try to eat you?

Also, also, I always assume that all cats are female -- even when they are named Fritz.

Did Rahm (I'm going to call him by his first name here) swear at you?  He's famous for swearing.  I wouldn't feel like I'd gotten the full Rahm experience unless he swore at me.  Next time you see him, maybe you can say something like, "Hey, Mr. Mayor, let's do swears!"  Then when he calls you a cunt, you can be all, "Nice one, motherfucker."  You'll both laugh and when you try to high five him, his bodyguard will take you down.

I never got used to people addressing my dad as "Senator Ford."  Once he got elected, all of his mail was addressed to "The Honorable David C. Ford."  Which is pretty cool but I thought he was honorable before he became a public servant, so it felt like everyone else was just late.  No one ever called him Mr. Senator because that would be stupid.  However, it would be a great name for an improv team or a band.

Now that our Apple TV supports Vimeo, Dee and I can watch Matrimonious on our TV.  Last night we watched Bickerfight, Gift, Coffee, Food, and Checkers before Scarlett got all fussy and had to go to bed.  You and Dan are delightful in these videos.  Delightful, I say.

Your ball/trampoline exercise reminds me of a device they had at a football camp I went to.  It was basically a football attached to a bungee cord.  The football was more like a whiffle football, though.  You attached the bungee cord to a fence or something behind you and then you threw the football as hard as you could and it would snap back and smack you in the face.  The next time you would be ready for how quickly it came back and you would catch it -- or at least shield your face.  Eventually, I got pretty good at it though I'm not really sure what it did to improve my quarterbacking skills.  It seems most beneficial to receivers and lonely people who have no one to play catch with.

Thursday, August 18, 2011

Fritz and Mr. Mayor

If you putting your egg baby up for adoption would make you look responsible, what would eating it do?

Isn't it weird how cats eat their stillborn kittens?  Cats are weird.

Speaking of cats, about a week ago, I was walking home around 11pm, and saw a cat out on the sidewalk.  He was just kind of sitting there, and when I started to pass him, he just flopped over, as though asking me to pet his belly.  I was weirded out - shouldn't he be inside?  I checked to see if he had a tag, and it said "Fritz," and a phone number.  I decided to call, since, in my opinion, if someone's cat was just allowed to roam free in the city streets, they wouldn't put their phone numbers on its tag.  Voice Mail picked up, and I left a message to the effect of, "Hi, my name is Tristan.  I'm walking in front of [whatever the street address was there] and I just came across Fritz.  I didn't know if he was lost, so I figured I'd give you a call.  Um...  I can't have a cat, so, he'll still be here, hopefully... Um... Okay... I hope you find him.  Bye."  When I got home, I was so worried about Fritz, but didn't really know what to do.  I never heard back from the owner, so I figured he must be allowed outside.  Then, a couple days later, I came across him hanging out in the same place.  So, I guess his owner is a douche.

I finally met my Mayoral neighbor this weekend.  Chris and I were parking the car, coming home from Trader Joe's, and there were two guys standing in the middle of our street.  One of them was this huge muscly dude, and I thought, "I wonder if that is Rahm Emanuel's bodyguard."  Then I looked at the other dude, who was Rahm Emanuel.  I concluded that the first guy was indeed his bodyguard.  We passed him on the sidewalk, and he looked at us.  I chirped, "Hi, Mr. Mayor!" which immediately made me feel like a dork, and he gruffly asked Chris and I how we were, and we responded, and that was about it.  Then I ran upstairs and googled "how to address a mayor."  Mr. Mayor is correct, even though it makes you sound like a Newsie. 

Conclusion; my quiet little street is teeming with interesting happenings.  Maybe I should write a sitcom called "Fritz and Mr. Mayor."

My favorite fooling-a-grown-up moment was on the school bus, when the driver was doing a three-point turn.  He asked us kids if he had enough room to back up: 
He did not. 
We said yes. 
He hit a mailbox.
It was awesome.

Geez, Ford.  Way too soon on the Indiana killing people tweet.  Like, wayyy too soon.  Meaning, before it happened.

Today in physical therapy, I got to do an exercise I thought I'd never get to do, because, a) I'd been there like 5 times and never done it, and b) I thought maybe it was for people strengthening their arms, not hips and back.  It's where you throw a big medicine ball at an almost-sideways trampoline and catch it.  I don't know why it's so fun, but it totally is.  One of my focuses (foci?) is balance, so I had to sit on a stability ball with one foot lifted up and throw and catch the ball.  Games!

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Me and Regis

Between plays at Notre Dame games most people sit quietly.  There was a time when Notre Dame stadium was one of the loudest in the country.  In fact, the refs stopped the game twice against Michigan because the crowd was so loud that the Michigan quarterback couldn't hear.  You can see it here.  That was back in 1988 when Notre Dame was really good and people cared.  Now the crowd mostly seems bored and has no idea how to cheer at a football game.  Frankly, most Notre Dame folk are lame when it comes to being interesting in public.  Except for me and Regis Philbin.  We're awesome.

I received your invite.  It is correct and I'm looking forward to the discussion.

I don't know the origins of the Iowa Basics and why we Hoosiers were required to take it.  We did and I remember it being stupid and easy.  I was shocked that everyone didn't do really well.

I've always thought the egg baby experiment was the dumbest thing ever.  Of course middle schoolers are going to be terrible parents.  Isn't that why religious groups spend so much time trying to convince teens to avoid sex?  Wouldn't it be great if the students that passed the egg baby test were given the go-ahead for unprotected sex?  I would have tried to put my egg baby up for adoption.  That satisfies the religious nuts and makes you look responsible.

I had a French teacher in high school who was especially easy to fool.  She was also the Japanese teacher and she got a grant to take the Japanese students to Japan, so she would spend all of her French classes preparing for the Japanese students.  She would give us busy work or throw a movie in the VCR.  We were sick of being ignored, so my friend Scott and I once convinced her that the VCR would only work if she kept her hand on top of it.  She stood there through the whole class instead of teaching us.

That's the deal with HD.  So long as you've never experienced HD, regular TV is just fine.  Once you've seen HD, you never want to go back.  I hear similar things about African American men and sex, though I have no personal experience.

Work conferences are only fun in the movies.  In real life they almost always suck.  That's because most reasonable people don't have work people as their best friends.

I went back home to Indiana this weekend to visit my mom.  As you may have heard, there were some really bad thunderstorms that passed through central Indiana on Saturday.  I looked outside, saw how nasty it was and tweeted, "Indiana: where thunderstorms actively try to kill you."  Little did I know that the stage at the Indiana State Fair was collapsing at about that time.  Even though I pride myself on being a jackass, that made me feel especially jackasshole-y.  Also, it made me feel a bit like Nostradamus.

When Indiana wasn't killing people it was very nice.

Thursday, August 11, 2011

Egg Baby

What happens between plays at Notre Dame games?  Does everyone drink egg creams?  Talk about Communism?  Applique poodles on to their skirts?

I have sent you an invitation via Google Calendar for us to discuss you giving Scarlett a plastic bag when she turns 13.  Is May 18th, 2024 correct?  I felt like I was time travelling when I scrolled so far forward in my calendar.

Fine.  I will try Five Guys. If only our blog was super-popular, maybe they would send me some in a big box with a bow.  I wish your argument had diagrams. Maybe I won't try Five Guys after all, just to spite you for being so morbid and lazy.

Why did you take Iowa Basics if you grew up in Indiana?  Is this some sort of Midwestern standardized test?  I like that you were able to drop eggs off of buildings without breaking them, but when I had to have an "egg baby" to simulate motherhood in Middle School for Health class, I broke mine three times.  The teacher said she would know if we broke them (and were therefore destined to be bad parents) because they were "special eggs."  They were Eggland's Best, which have a little stamp on the bottom of each egg.  When my first one broke, I promptly marched to the store and bought a carton.  I just kept replacing my egg baby (named Steven) until the project was over.  I even gave a couple to friends who broke theirs. 

The teacher that taught that class also pronounced pubic hair, "poobic hair," so I don't feel particularly clever or gratified in foiling her.

We have HD now, and I find that I'm never like, "Ooh!  So crisp!" when I watch it, BUT, I think, "This looks like shit" when I see normal def. stuff.  It has ruined me.

My thumb is still healing.  Ugh.  The cut was just so wide, it wouldn't shut.  It was like a ravine.  We're almost there, though, thanks to some butterfly bandage thingies.

I had a work conference on Monday and Tuesday at one of those hotel/conference center places that pretty much do only that.  There aren't, like, people who are just staying there for fun.  Everyone's there on business.  Work conferences are exhausting.  Even when you're not technically working, you're still hanging out with a million co-workers from around the country (well, really just the Midwest for me) who you don't know very well.  And they always want to talk about work.  And you have to be "on" the whole time. 

There is, however, tons of free food.  They have snack kiosks outside of all the conference rooms, laden with cookies and fruit and soda and chips and stuff.  It's awesome.  But I always gain weight at those things because all I do is sit around, and then eat stuff to try to keep myself awake.

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

HD Science

Oh, a peepee dick squirt.  Yeah, the peepee squirt works exactly like you thought.  At least for me.

I don't know how hard it is to steer a Space Shuttle with a popped tire.  It could be very dangerous.  Though, it still probably wouldn't rank very highly on the Space Shuttle disaster list.

I actually don't mind going to the ballpark for a ballgame.  It's nice to be outside with your friends drinking a beer and watching a sporting event that you don't really have to pay much attention to in order to keep up with what is going on.  In fact, each summer I go to a different Major League ballpark with some of my college friends.  It's fun, but mostly because my friends are awesome.  They enjoy baseball much more than I do.  They also enjoy baseball more than they enjoy me.

Football games are great.  There is downtime between plays, but the real downtime is during the TV timeouts.  Fortunately (read: unfortunately), NFL stadiums have enormous JumboTrons with which to entertain you during that downtime.  They also blare loud rock or rap music so you are not ever bored.  Ever.  At Notre Dame games, there is no loud music or JumboTrons because, well, Notre Dame takes pride in making us all feel like we live in the '50s.  It's a good time to check other scores on your phone, you know, because we don't live in the '50s.

Basketball is fun to watch, but only the last five minutes.

I've not felt the urge to give Scarlett a plastic bag to play with.  Ask me again when she's 13.

Five Guys is great for what it is.  It's not crappy non-burgers like McDonald's or Burger King.  It's a step up from that but it's not one of those enormous steak burgers you get a fancy restaurants.  They are kinda in the same category as M Burger or Shake Shack.  Anyway, they are good fast food burgers and the fries are fantastic.  Dee and I prefer the Cajun style fries.  Try it at least once.

I was going to hammer you with reasons to go to Five Guys, but I don't have the energy today.  I was going to make all sorts of awesome comparisons and analogies and there would have been bullet points and possibly even diagrams, but it occurred to me that we're all dying so what's the point?

I don't think I ever took special intelligence tests, but I did score highly on the Iowa Basics and that earned me the right to go to a summer school where we got to pick out fun classes to take.  It was like college except they didn't grade us and we just did cool shit like build model rockets and contraptions to hold eggs that we would then throw off the top of the bleachers.  If your egg didn't break, you were labeled SCIENCE GENIUS.  I took two pieces of styrofoam, hollowed out a place for the egg and strapped them together with rubber bands.  My egg did not break.  SCIENCE GENIUS.

I didn't realize that I was missing anything by not watching sports in HD until I saw sports in HD.  Everything is so much more clear.  It's easier to tell if a dude stepped out of bounds and small details like that.  Plus, I never realized how much the players tended to blend together in Standard Def until I saw HD.  I couldn't give a shit about watching 30 Rock in HD.  It doesn't get funnier.  Sports are definitely better, though.

You cut yourself much worse than I did.  Mine didn't even draw blood.  I just sliced into the skin and made a flap.  I was able to do all the things that I normally did except sometimes the flap would get caught open and it would feel weird.

I broke my hand in college.  Thankfully it was my left hand.  However, it still made doing everyday things much harder.  Typing was super slow with one hand.  Going to the bathroom took forever and I would have to do a weird little dance to get everything situated back in my pants so I often went into the stalls instead of the urinals.

I have a sharp knife and I keep it well honed.  I'm not afraid to use it.  Especially on tomatoes.  How dare you suggest otherwise?

Thursday, August 4, 2011

Itchy Bear

I was thinking of a peepee dick-squirt, not a spermy dick-squirt.  Squirt.
Popping a tire on a space shuttle doesn't sound bad at all.  I feel like that would be passing.  Who gives a shit?  It's a tire.  Make a swing out of it.  Or put a baby in there.  I just googled "Michelin Baby" to make sure that there were indeed ads for Michelin with a baby sitting in/by a tire.  I came across a startling slew of babies with rolls of fat that look like stacked tires.  Gross.  And a couple ads for Michelin with a baby sitting by a tire.
I think it's funny that you hate baseball.  I love it.  I mean, I don't really watch it on TV, but I love going to ball games, grabbing a beer and a hot dog and keeping score.  I will be going to my first Bears (and indeed, professional football) game this year.  I'm excited!  Though, I feel like while baseball games are better in person, football games will be better on TV because you're so far away, and there's so much stopping.  Is basketball ever interesting to watch?  Maybe just when it's the Globetrotters?
Good idea about the spare bag for peanut shells.  Maybe they are worried people will use it as a toy for their babies.  From what I read on bags, this is a very tempting option for parents.  Now that you find a baby under your direct supervision, I gather that you must be constantly enticed to give Scarlett old bags to play with, yes?
I've never been to Five Guys.  Isn't it just, like, some burgers?  Sell me on it. 
I had physical therapy again today.  It's so fun!  I like all the weird little activities.  It's like when I was little and had to take all these intelligence tests by playing little games while a man watched.  It was so fun, and way less creepy than it sounds.   I think my parents were checking if I was a genius or something.  I forget.  (Which leads me to believe I wasn't...)  All I remember is that the man was really impressed that I just naturally knew that his right hand wasn't the one directly across from mine when he faced me.  Actually, I also remember that my parents and I went out for Strawberry Shortcake afterward.
Anyway, so far my favorite PT activities include:
- Itchy Bear (standing against a wall with a ball behind my back and doing squats
- Apolo Anton Ohno (taking wide swooping steps with a resist-a-band around my ankles)
- Molasses Crab (sideways squat-walking with banded ankles)
- Alpha-Log (standing with one foot on a foam half-tube, rolly-side-down, and spelling out the alphabet in huge letters with my other foot.
Why do you want to watch sports in HD?  I'm not being coy - I'm really just curious.  Is it so you can see the guys' numbers better?  Determine more easily whether they are playing on Astro-turf or real grass?  Or just so that it's more like you're actually there, perhaps?
I rarely put much thought into appreciating being a primate until my opposable thumbs were compromised the other day.  Tying my shoe is particularly cumbersome.  I wore a skirt today exclusively because it's such a pain to button up my pants.  I don't know what I would do if I had cut (or *gasp* broken) both thumbs.  As it is now, Cassie laughed (albeit compassionately) at me yesterday for looking like a raccoon when I tried to pick up my big Nalgene bottle with my injured hand, and ended up having to use both of them.  (Beside the difficulty in bending, it is just extremely painful to put much pressure on it.  This was some cut!)
Tomatoes are indeed assholes.  Their composition is too precarious and varied to be hospitable to most cutting.  But, tomato assholes, like real assholes, (the behavioral kind, not the anus kind) just require the right tools deal with them.  With anus assholes, it's a thick skin and a biting wit.  With tomato assholes, it's just a really expensive (and sharp) knife.  I bought Chris a nearly $200 knife for Christmas this past year.  That motherfucker dices the shit out of some tomatoes.  It had better...

Shuttles and Shells

Getting a good dick squirt isn't really that tricky at all, but I presume that you already know that. It's not too dissimilar from the way you thought penises worked as a child.

1. It starts out little.
2. You see/think about boobs and it fills up with blood until it gets big.
3. The owner (or lover/friend/drunken stranger) creates friction until jizz comes out.
4. It gets little again.

We never got on an airplane to take a family vacation. My mom hates flying. She also hates driving anywhere over an hour from her home. Good thing Dad liked to drive. He also loved to fly, but he usually preferred to be in the pilot's seat. Did you know that my uncle was able to get him into the Space Shuttle simulator so that he could try to land the Shuttle?  The first time he landed it, he popped one of the tires but the second time he brought it in nice and smooth. Either my dad is really good, or landing the Shuttle wasn't that different than landing a two seat Cessna. The point is that we were all about road trips.  Also, the beach is totally boring.

I completely forgot to mention that Cubs fans ruin an otherwise pleasant train ride. My travels are mostly on the north side so I don't really have to deal with Sox fans. Cubs fans suck. Growing up I use to kinda like the Cubs. I didn't learn to hate them until I moved to Chicago. I don't really like the Sox much either, but that's because baseball is even more boring than the beach.  Sox fans are fine. My wife is a Sox fan, kinda.

Peanut shells are the only acceptable litter. Unless you live in my neighborhood, then everything is acceptable litter. They should sell unshelled peanuts with an extra bag. The one place where it isn't acceptable to drop you peanut shells is Five Guys. They offer peanuts, but the floor is never covered in shells. I love Five Guys.

I've done physical therapy for my back.  It was fantastic.  Massages and stretching and cute nurses.  All paid by insurance.  Doesn't get much better than that.  The staff even came to see one of my improv shows.

I think picture quality is way more important than screen size.  Unfortunately, Dee and I are stuck in the Dark Ages because I can't convince Directv to break their rules in order to get HD in to my home.  We're stuck watching shit in Standard Definition until we move.  I've thought about ambushing the Directv guy as soon as he comes into our place and knocking him out with chloroform.  Then I'd grab his gear and set it up myself. When he wakes up I'd be all, "Dude, you totally passed out.  You should probably take the day off and go see a doctor.  Now get out."  I hate it.  I just want to watch sports in HD.

I read your post last night when I got home and then sliced my thumb while making dinner.  I was dicing a tomato.  There's nothing I hate more than dicing tomatoes.  I can never get it right.  I've watched videos online about how to do it right and I still never get it right.  Tomatoes are assholes.

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Thumbs Down

You have an impressive knowledge of squirting milk out of boobs.  Is getting a good dick-squirt tricky too?  I imagine it would be pretty easy if penises (peni?) worked like I thought they did when I was little;

1. It starts out little.
2. It fills up with pee until it gets big.
3. The owner squeezes it like a tube of toothpaste to pee.
4. It is little again.

We also went to Caribbean islands when I was young.  I've never been much of a beach vacationer either, though.  I am bad at sitting on a beach.  I like going in the water, but lying on a towel and cooking in the sun is dangerous, but more importantly, it is boring as shit.  You can read or whatever, but it's uncomfortable to do anything but lie down.  Like baths.  I can't take baths because I get so bored.  Again, you can read, but you have to keep your book out of the water.  ANNOYING!

We did go to Gettysburg once, which I really liked.  And then once to Colonial Williamsburg, which I LOVED.

I didn't know that Edison and Ford were big dicks.  I'm not surprised though.  Groundbreaking people are usually kind of dicks.    

Yeah, the Red Line is really hit or miss.  I feel like it's usually pretty fine, but if there is (or has been) a Cubs or Sox game, it's a nightmare.  Packed full of idiots and peanut shells.  And the occasional heap of chicken bones.  Why is it semi-socially acceptable to throw peanut shells on the floor, no matter where you are?  Bars, ballparks, the train.  I'm sorry - are those not trash?  Pick up your shit, dickweed.

Yesterday I had my first physical therapy appointment, prescribed by an orthopaedic surgeon I saw a couple months ago.  It was pretty cool - sort of like an hour-long personal training session that starts with a back massage that your insurance company will pay for. 

You know what I don't really care about?  Big TVs.  Chris has been talking about getting a nice one for a while, and yesterday, he bought one.  Now we have a fancy TV that goes on the internet.  I have two thoughts about this:
1) That's pretty neat.
2) That's pretty pointless.
I mean, we have laptops.  And you can stream Netflix on a Wii.  I mean, it's cool to fiddle with, but I don't really understand it.  Last night I looked over and Chris had the same ESPN article in front of him on his laptop and on the TV. 

The picture quality is amazing though.  

Maybe I would like it better if the remote weren't a little keyboard - I sliced my thumb yesterday, and have temporarily lost use of it.  Texting or using this wacky remote is a total pain in the... thumb... right now. 

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

The Civil War Vacation

Getting a good squirt from a boob is trickier than you might think.  It's easiest when they are at their fullest.  Also, you probably won't be very accurate.  Just some tips for the future, though I'm not the expert.  You may want to talk to Dee.

My family vacations rarely consisted of things that most people thought of as fun.  I went to Disney World as a kid but mostly we went to old Civil War battlegrounds.  I loved the Civil War as a kid -- mostly because  our encyclopedia had detailed pictures of the uniforms of the Union and Confederate soldiers and I loved those uniforms.  I wanted one for myself.  Unfortunately, they didn't sell them at the Gettysburg gift shop.  We once went to Battle Creek, Michigan.  This was not an old Civil War site.  It is the home to the Kellogg and Post cereal companies.  We toured the factories.  I'm not sure if it was the same trip but we also went to Dearborn, Michigan to tour Henry Ford's home (no relation) and factories and such.  Did you know that he and Thomas Edison were huge dicks?  Most of their hatred was focused towards Nikola Tesla.  And Jews.  Henry Ford hated the Jews (thank god he's no relation).

Anyway, I don't remember ever going to a beach for vacation.  Not that I cared.  I'm not a big fan of sun and sand.  Plus, I was scared of water as a kid.

Unpacking is a pain in the ass.  It's never fun even if you share an unpacking philosophy.  I'm like Chris.  I just want to get shit unpacked and get the boxes out of the house.  Unfortunately, it usually means that things never really find the right place and I'm constantly sorting things out later.  I think that's better than digging through boxes when you need stuff, though.

The Blue Line sucks when you have to get on at Division.  It's almost always full because everyone gets on at Damen.  However, I loved that my door-to-door commute was 15 minutes max.  Now, it's 40 minutes door-to-door.  The Brown Line is definitely the limousine of the CTA.  The air conditioning always works, it's clean(er) and there are very few bums.  The Red Line (which I take now) is so heavily used that it's never very clean and always crowded.  I also feel like the air conditioning has been broken way too often this summer.  I'm a sweater (as in one who sweats).  It's gross.

My colorblind grandfather was also a Shriner.  He didn't ride the little motorcycles or drive the fez, but he hated black people and Catholics so he met all the major requirements.

You can meet Scarlett any time you like.  Our house is always open to you.  We'll even let you change a diaper.  However, you'll need to come before 7 PM because that's when we start the whole bedtime routine. There's hell to pay if we wreck the schedule.

Monday, August 1, 2011

On Squirting

Oh, good.  My solution to the snot-bulb conundrum was, "Babies don't know what's good for them.  Just do it."  When I read the boob-squirtz recommendations, I thought, "Oh no!  Does this mean I'm going to be a terrible mother one day?"  I guess now we know that I probably will, but for some other reason.

I feel like it would be hard to resist squirting breast milk at things/people.  I wonder if that means if I were a boy, I'd just be trying not to pee at people all the time. 

Yeah, Chris had never been to a Disney park.  I think his family vacations were more about staying on a beach in Delaware.  I've never been to the Grand Canyon.  I would like to do that.  When I was little, I desperately wanted to go to Mount Rushmore.  I have no idea why - I'm sure it's terribly boring as a final destination.  I've still never been - my parents always made us go to Florida and stuff instead.  (Thank goodness....)

After having seen the apartment again, I think we will be okay without painting - we have lots of art, and the architecture of the apartment is pretty interesting, so it will still be lovely and colorful and dynamic.  We are all moved in now, though not all unpacked.  Chris, being a teacher, is home now taking care of a bunch of things, but I'm hoping to get the rest of my boxes taken care of tonight.  (I always make Chris' name possessive with just an apostrophe.  I've looked it up, and either way is acceptable, I believe.)

It's funny - I thought Chris and I would have so much fun unpacking our stuff and setting up the new place, but it's really been kind of stressful.  I mean, we haven't been fighting or anything, but it's been tense.  I think the main problem lies in our unpacking style differences.  I like to unpack everything slowly and get it in exactly the right place so that everything is perfect.  Chris is more from the school of "Let's just get this shit unpacked and in pretty much the right place and perfect it later."  With my way, I think you're doing less work in the long run, but with Chris', your house is serviceable faster. I'm not saying one way is better than the other, it's just a challenge when you have one student of each practice trying to work together. 

This morning I had my first commute from the new place, and I was pretty pleased with the change.  It is, unfortunately, about twice as long as it was at Chris' house, but this one is much nicer.  That was the Division Blue Line stop, which I HATED.  The Blue Line is always gross and packed to the gills and full of sleeping bums.  Now I have the Brown Line again, which is how rich-ish people get to and from work. 

My grandfather used to drive the fez around at the Shriner's Circus and parades.  So...

When do I get to meet this kid of yours?  Do you have an upcoming open house or anything?

Dr. Facebook

Guess what, lady?  All babies hate the snot-sucker bulb thing.  They're going to cry and wail, but sometimes you need to do things that your baby doesn't like for its own good.  Reasonable things, of course.  Certainly not stupid things like shooting breast milk up its nose straight from your boob.  Life lessons you should teach your child should not involve teaching them what it feels like to drown.  Suck it up and suck it up -- with the bulb.  It's not that bad if you do it right.

Also, Facebook is not the place to get that kind of advice.  There are plenty of other baby sites with actual experts and, I don't know, CALL YOUR FUCKING DOCTOR!

I would say that I think less of you because you like Glee, but you like all of that stupid musical stuff that I hate so I'll let it go.  Also, I don't like Rent.

You're telling me that Chris had never been to either of the Disneyland/Disney World parks?  I would like to speak with his parents.  Or maybe he went when he was really little and didn't remember?  Or maybe his perspective has changed now that he's an adult?  Regardless, I totally remember the "It's a Small World" ride being really weird and trippy.  Even as a kid I was confused by it.

I'll add cold to my list of salad requirements.

Damn, dude.  You would have totally loved painting.  You would have put on some Broadway show tunes and your Little Mermaid soundtrack and had a grand old time.  Then you would have had some of Chris's delicious beer after.  Is that the proper punctuation of the possessive of your boyfriend's name?

I am not colorblind though my grandfather was.  When I was little I asked him how he knew when the traffic light turned green.  He said, "It's always the one on the bottom."  Then I asked him what he does at the intersections where they mount the lights sideways.  He said, "I just always go and shout 'Look out!' out the window."  I believed him until I was in the car with him when we came to a sideways mounted light and he managed just fine without shouting out the window.

My other grandfather taught me how to tie my shoes so that they would never come untied and yet still act just like a regular shoe knot.  That's not really relevant.

We don't call each other "Mom" and "Dad" yet.  When talking to Scarlett, I'll refer to Dee as "Mom" or "Mommy" but I don't address her that way.  I still call her "Dee" or "Deanna" or "Denana" or "Donna" or "Donna Love" or "Donyonna" or "Donyonna the Lovemaker" or "Baby."  Sometimes when I'm talking to Scarlett I'll call Dee "Foodbags."  We call Ruthie "Poopers."