Friday, October 27, 2006

You Mean Like...Every Day??

After blogging about NaNoWriMo several entries ago, I ran across its second cousin earlier tonight. Never heard of it before, but I thought it might be worth a mention.

Someone out there decided to start NaBloPoMo, (if you read my post on NaNoWriMo, then I trust you to figure out for yourselves what NaBloPoMo stands for) for those that are seriously into blogging but not so much into banging out a 50,000-word novel in a month. The idea is based on the same theme as its much more popular do a lot of writing during November. If you sign up for NaBloPoMo—which, I'm sorry, doesn't have nearly the same flow as NaNoWriMo when it rolls off the tongue—you're basically promising to post one blog entry every day during November. No skipping. No excuses.

While I support the blog thing as much as I support the novel thing, I won't even sign up and fool myself into thinking that I'll accomplish the goal, because: 1) I've got plans to be gone for at least a couple days in November, so that shoots the "every day" theme right there; and 2) I've been having a hard enough time lately getting in an entry a month, much less an entry a day.

One good thing about finding that site, though, is the lonnnggg list of participants at the bottom. There have to be a few gems in there somewhere. Where to click first?

"They say that cocaine is God's way
of telling you you have too much money.
I suppose blogging is His way of telling you
you've got too much time on your hands."
—James Morrow

Wednesday, October 18, 2006

And The Oscar Goes To...

...nobody that was in the last movie I saw, that's for sure!
But I kinda knew that going in.

I went to see Jackass Number Two the other night. I knew the first time I saw previews for it that I'd go and see it in the theater. I saw the first one in the theater, and now own the DVD, along with one of the Steve-O videos as well. The second one will find its way into my video collection as well.

It's not exactly what you'd call riveting, plot-heavy, high-brow cinema. But it'll make you laugh your ass off if you like disgusting, unimaginable stunts. Surprisingly, many of the critics I've read gave it the same reviews. I thought it might not even be worthy of reviews by many in that profession, but even Ebert & Roeper gave it two thumbs up!

According to a CNN story, Jackass actually debuted at No. 1 in its opening weekend, bringing in more on the first Friday alone than the $11.5 million it cost to make the movie. Not a bad profit margin, huh?

For stupid, sick, disgusting stunts and humor, Johnny Knoxville and his crew are tough to beat. But after seeing it, you almost feel as though you should seek out and buy a ticket to a Shakespeare play, just to balance out your equilibrium a little.

Speaking of good movies, there was a preview for this before the Jackass flick came on. You can bet I'll be eating popcorn in front of the big screen for that one, too. (If you don't have the CD by them, get it. And then go see the movie. I doubt that Jack Black will disappoint.)

"But the heart of Jackass...
the adolescent drive to bash
body and soul into the symbolic
brick wall of maturity...
remains pure."

—Peter Travers, Rolling Stone

Tuesday, October 10, 2006

Cleanup In Aisle Nine!

(Blogger's Note: Being rather new to this whole blogosphere, I wasn't aware that Blog Neglect is as serious of a crime as it is. After ignoring my own for more than a week, apparently some sort of electronic signal was sent to the Blog Police, who showed up at my door on the eighth or ninth day of blog inactivity, and hauled me away to Blog Prison. Forced to raise $9.14 for bail, I called nearly all my friends and family to come to my aid. "What are you going to do when you get out?" they asked. To which my reply was, "I'm going to blog, of course." Chuckling as they hung up the phone, they chose to leave me where I was. I cannot even mention some of the unspeakable things I had to do to earn the nine bucks and change over the last few days to get out on my own. I wish I could promise that this degree of neglect will never happen again, but I know how quickly the days pass sometimes, and I know how lazy I can be. So I've started my own Blog Bail Fund, to prepare for next time.'s time for an entry.)

— • — • —

Some people believe that how you meet your soulmate should be left up to chance. That it’s all a matter of fate, or destiny, or kismet. Call it what you will.

One example that I’ve heard more than once goes like this: “I always figured that I’d be walking through the grocery store one day, and I’d drop a gallon of milk on [his/her] foot and look up into their eyes and know they were the one.”

That thought has made me keep a keener eye when I’m buying groceries. No, I don’t try to force the issue by hanging around with a gallon of milk at the ready, or a dozen eggs to use as ammo from an aisle away. (“Hey, aren’t you supposed to be my destiny?” *splack!, right in the forehead* “Ohhh, here. Let me help you with that egg shell in your eye.”)

I’m a tad more subtle than that. But I do remain alert at all times.

Case in point: I was rushing through the grocery store the other day, and grabbed the just-shopping-for-one hand basket by the door instead of the here-to-stock-up-my-fridge shopping cart with the heavy-duty suspension.

In front of me was a well-dressed woman…white shirt, black pants, heels, those “smart glasses” that make you look like you could be a card-carrying member of Mensa.

I don’t claim to have a master’s degree in fashion. In fact, I’m not even sure that I have a G.E.D. I’m just saying that she provided a much better distraction than inspecting celery stalks in the produce section, OK?

As it turns out, I found myself behind her in line at the checkout (no ring; yes, I checked), and it was here that I began to wonder how critical a role the contents of one’s shopping basket played in whether or not they were viewed as soulmate material at the supermarket.

For instance, would this mystery woman immediately offer me her phone number when she glanced back and saw me unloading...among a few other things...Totino’s Pizza Rolls, and taco dip?

Not my finest hour, I realize.

I had visions of freezing time and rushing back to the meat department, picking up a freshly trimmed and wrapped beef tenderloin, and adding no fewer than five jars of spices to my basket, three or four different fresh vegetables, along with a bag of flour and some yeast for good measure.

“I make all my own bakery from scratch,” I’d explain to my Ms. Right as she eyed the flour and other ingredients, “with recipes and techniques my great grandmother taught me, that she brought over from the Old Country.”

Instead, my fate was already sealed. It was clear by my grocery item selections that my favorite cooking utensil was the microwave oven.

As I sit on my front porch years from now when I’m old and gray, slowly rocking in my rocking chair, a parrot squawking on its perch inside the door as my only companion, I’ll think of the one that got away at the grocery store, and what might have been.

Foiled by a processed frozen pizza treat.

I should have dropped a gallon of milk on her foot.

"Destiny is not a matter of chance.
It is a matter of choice.
It is not a thing to be waited for,
it is a thing to be achieved."
—William Jennings Bryan