Christmas? Christmas!

Christmas is/was pretty good. We had two big meals and I got some nice presents and gave some nice presents. We went to the beach on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.

I went to see Wolf Creek with my sister. Not Wolf Lake; that's the old tv show about werewolves with Lou Diamond Philips. Wolf Creek is the looooow-budget Australian horror movie. It was ok, but could have been much better. I think the key to getting maximum enjoyment out of mediocre movies is to see many of them in a row. Jesus is Magic was ok, but seeing it as one of three movies in a row, it is ameliorated by association.

It was weird to drive to the beach today and see just about everything closed. Wal-Mart, McDonald's ... and ... the other stores ... it was crazy. Those places pay their employees so little, you'd think they'd want to come in just for the extra money. Maybe closing on Christmas is Wal-Mart's gift to its stockholders.


My brother-in-law got me the "Rough Guide to Cult Movies". It's a really nice, useful book and an appreciated gift, but oh the errors. For one thing, The Last Samurai starring Tom Cruise is not a cult movie; just because the lead actor is in a cult doesn't make his movies cult movies. Also, the album in This is Spinal Tap was "Smell the Glove", not "Smell my Glove", and their hit song was not "Lick my Love Pump". Perhaps one point of the book was to create debate, but the only way to debate morons like the editors of the "Rough Guide to Cult Movies" is to throw bricks through their office windows -- because, y'know, then they'd not come to work and the reading public would not me misled into thinking that E.T. is a cult movie.

Yup, E.T.

Yup, those were my thoughts exactly.

Maybe it was for a play he's in? Aw hell, who am I kidding

I'm not crazy enough to live here. Proof: yesterday at the Wal-Mart, the guy ahead of me in line was buying an axe, a 36-pack of condoms, and a 50-lb bag of dog food. Me and my city-honed weirdness can't compete with that.

Today I saw three movies -- in an actual theatre! Sarah Silverman: Jesus is Magic was ok; The Squid and the Whale was too short; and Good Night and Good Luck was too small. On the whole, a pretty good day at the flicks. I also bought a book about the Battle of Alamein and some kick-ass postcards. Now if only I could remember your address ...

Oh, and hey, I figured out why I have low self-esteem. I won't get into it here -- heck, just go listen to some Lou Barlow; it'd have the same effect as me writing it. I am happy about figuring it all out, though. The first step is admitting it, the second step is figuring out the cause, and the third step is purging myself of the ancient alien souls residing in my body. Hook me up to that E-meter, L Ron!

When the scowling middle-aged woman leans forward, yeah, I'll look down her shirt; why do you ask?

And I wonder why I haven't told my grandmother about my blog.

Florida is crazy. I drive around in a rental car and listen to either 101.5 "The Point" or 102.5 "The Bone"; it's "the Best of the 80's" versus "Classic Rock Hits" in a battle for my very soul. I've learned this fun fact: Pearl Jam is just Guns 'n' Roses with different hair.

My aunt/uncle/cousins are on some insane home improvement kick. I suspect they want to sell the house, but I don't know; I haven't said more than a dozen words to them. I'm sitting at a table with two of them and the disinterest goes both ways. I don't really care, though. The only warmth I desire is from the sun.

Come on, sun! Get with the program!

My flights down were pretty good. I wore my Andy Kaufman neck brace and was able to sleep quite comfortably. Also, folks tend to leave you alone when you look like you've got a neck injury.

Technically it's a "cervical collar", but that sounds too much like "genital cuff".

I feel the urge to spend lots of money, but I've been successful in keeping my wallet closed so far. Well, mostly closed. I didn't know that all the charges and extras would make my breakfast at the Toronto Airport Hilton cost $25. Goddamn! Things like that, and the possibility that I'll be an unemployable wretch (thanks, Stats-inspired pessimism!) , make me consider fiscal responsibility. Consider, not adopt. Remember: baby steps.

Lots of ugly people in Florida. You'd fit right in, [ugly friend]. Oh snap!

Just don't

Reading bad poetry makes me want to give up literacy entirely. Here, bad poetry is understood to be any poetry written by anyone +/- 20 years of my age and written within the last decade. And don't try to mask it with background music; a poem is still a poem, and I will slap the sibilance right out of you if you try it again.

This is unrelated to what I like to call "The Great Saturday Debacle". My exam went horribly, as did the commentary recording for Marital Aid 2000. My plan for recording the commentary was all wrong, as was my plan for studying. Apologies (and thanks) to everyone who called, but I shan't be using any of Saturday's material. That right: shan't. Conversely, I shall be using what I learned in Stats when I re-take it next semester. And we shall never speak of this again.

I'm getting on a plane to Calgary/Toronto/Tampa in five hours. Holy crap do I have a lot to do before then. I had an interesting conversation with Maura last night. She held the position that it's better to be driven to the airport by a loved one than to be picked up at the airport by a loved one. I held the opposite position. I can't defend her side because it's clearly wrong, whereas mine is so steeped in experience and wisdom that I'm surprised that I have to repeat it.

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a person in possession of any sense must be in want of leaving Saskatoon. Leaving this city is one of the best things a person can do for their personal well-being, and expedience is the key. When you're on the last chopper out of Saigon, you don't look back and wave; just go. On the other hand, when you look at your ticket and see that the last chopper out of Saigon will be bringing you back, what you'll want ... nay, need ... is a hug from a loved one upon your return.

I know many Saskatonians read this blog, and to them I extend my sympathies. And apologies!

But mostly sympathies.

I'm not pushing you away. I'm pulling me towards myself

Sorry about the lack of recent updates. I've got a Stats exam tomorrow, but that's hardly an excuse to ignore you, Internet.

During the day things happen and thoughts occur and at the time I note: "Why, that would make a fine blog post. Just fine!"

But then [whatever] happens, and the potential post is lost.

Fortunately, I am fully justified in my contempt for That Seventies Show. Exhibit A! Exhibit B is how much the show sucks. Same with Exhibits C through infinity.

Infinity. Integrals. Stats. I have to go study, don't I?

War on Christmas: what is it good for?

Sam Seder (director on "I'm With Busey", occasional Best Show contributor, and host on Air America radio) was on CNN to discuss the "War on Christmas" ...

SEDER: Listen, as far as the war on Christmas goes, I feel like we should be waging a war on Christmas. I mean, I believe that Christmas, it's almost proven that Christmas has nuclear weapons, can be an imminent threat to this country, that they have operative ties with terrorists and I believe that we should sacrifice thousands of American lives in pursuit of this war on Christmas. And hundreds of billions of dollars of taxpayer money.

PHILLIPS: Is it a war on Christmas, a war on Christians, a war on over-political correctness or just a lot of people with way too much time on their hands?

SEDER: I would say probably, if I was to be serious about it, too much time on their hands, but I'd like to get back to the operational ties between Santa Claus and al Qaeda.

PHILLIPS: I don't think that exists. Bob? Help me out here.

SEDER: We have intelligence, we have intelligence.

PHILLIPS: You have intel. Where exactly does your intel come from?

SEDER: Well, we tortured an elf ...

The video to this is just fantastic. Get it here.

It's on

This Saturday from 1:30pm to 7:30pm (give or take) I'll be recording the commentary for Marital Aid 2000. If you'd like to get a few words in, feel free to call 306-664-6452 anytime from 1:30pm to 7:30pm (give or take); I'll have the suction-cup microphone attached to the phone to record calls.

That's 1:30pm to 7:30pm (give or take) Saskatoon time, which is currently 1 hour behind EST. Or is it EDT? I don't know. If you're on the East Coast and you call me at 1:30pm your time, it'll be 12:30pm my time and I'll still be crying in the shower at that point; my Stats exam ends at noon, y'see. So wait until 2:30pm. And even then, maybe wait a few minutes; it'll be at least twenty minutes before I've run out of things to say on my own.


Note: By calling and joining in the commentary for Marital Aid 2000, you implicitly agree to forego in perpetuity any claims related to Marital Aid 2000, including but not limited to compensatory rights (including monetary compensation but excluding massage-atory compensation); creative ownership, co-ownership, or collaboration claims; or bragging rights.

When I say I'm sleepy, you best believe I'm sleepy s-l-e-e-p-y

What's with these naps that won't take? I've been in bed for over two hours and this nap just ain't happenin'.

Oh, you want to hear how my exam went? It went fine, thanks. While it had some tricky multiple choice questions and some ridiculous essay questions ("For two points, explain why software engineering is or is not an ethical profession"), overall it was a fun yet challenging capper to a fun yet challenging class.

One of the short answer questions was "You're working on a large software project. You've bought a third-party software package to handle one part of the functionality, but find that it's too complex for your purposes. What do you do?" I found the question kind of ambiguous, but relished the idea of taking on the challenge: specifically, does "too complex for your purposes" mean that the program has too much unused functionality, or that it is too complex to link up with the rest of your program? I'm pretty sure the question was meant to convey the latter but was just poorly worded, but I couldn't take the chance! "If it's the former, then suck it up, princess; you've got a piece of working software that you've already paid for. Besides, no user uses all of Photoshop's functionality." And then I tackled the case of the latter -- that was five sentences long and ended thusly: "Ultimately you have to do a cost-benefit analysis, and then cross your fingers and choose one option."

In computer science I don't often get the chance to write essay questions, so when one comes up I have to make the most of it. Special thanks to Maura for adding "Suck it up, princess" to my lexicon.

Oh, you don't care about my lexicon? Sorry, I thought I ... no, you're absolutely right. What would you like to hear about? The Sheaf Christmas party? OK.

The Sheaf Christmas party is tomorrow. The theme is "comics". You're supposed to come dressed as something "comics" related. I going as Andy Kaufman, because he was a stand-up comic. Further, I will buy drinks for any girl who can beat me at wrestling. I anticipate few takers for this offer, because girls stink at wrestling. Also, I'll be wearing my nice pants.

I didn't tell you about the pants? Sorry about that. Here's a picture ...




Yes, I did match the shirt and the shoes on purpose. Thanks for noticing, doll. See, that's why we get along so well: I'm a narcissist and you're an enabler. Cheers. Now give me a few minutes, will ya? All this blogging is interfering with my beauty sleep.

Dell's gotta be loving me right about now

I've got some crazy crap going on with my laptop monitor. The colors are all corrupted, fr'instance where there's supposed to be black, instead there are vertical green lines. I don't know what's up with that. The rest of the compute box works fine, but these colors ...

I called Dell support, which was the fucking nightmare I expected it to be.

After way too long, it was decided that a technician has to come by and replace my screen. We plugged in an external monitor and determined there's nothing wrong with the video card and/or drivers. Of course, the call center gal had me uninstall the video card driver after the external monitor test, so now the graphics are slower than ever. I appreciate it!

Upon flipping over the laptop to check for "missing screws or pads" (wow, how thorough and totally unnecessary a step, Dell support gal!), I noticed that there's a crack in the case. If I weren't deathly afraid of the consequences of pissing off Dell, I'd make some mention of my suspicion that Dell is a purveyor of p.o.s. products, but hey, someday I may apply for a job at Dell and the last thing I need is a record of my displeasure.

Let me just say that this faulty LCD is not the first problem I've had with this computer. This summer its motherboard got fucked up and Dell refused to believe that such a thing could happen. They sent me brand new RAM sticks, and yet the problem remained. And now there's the fucked up screen ... and somewhere in there the case got cracked and I refuse to accept responsibility for that, considering the other flaws in the assembly of this system. Grar!

Fuck it. As long as Dell is paying for the fixes, I'll go along with it. As soon as my service contract expires, though, I expect I'll be laptop shopping again. And not for a Dell.

Mama's little angel plays pocket pool

At a certain point, making a grilled cheese sandwich becomes muscle memory. There's nothing wrong with that, despite what the pretty eco-lesbians would have you believe. A grilled cheese sandwich is certainly better for you than half a pumpkin pie with whipped cream.

(Half a pumpkin pie with whipped cream was my first choice, but it had taken me so long to get to it that the "half a pumpkin pie" part of the equation was starting to grow mold. I hate it when sweets go to the great dessert cart in the sky.)

Which is my way of saying, "Yes, it's been ages since I've written anything." Following the example of my personal savior Jesus Christ, I have this to say: I blame you.

If you hadn't gone and told me, "My friend so-and-so reads your blog and thinks it's hilarious," I'd not have felt the pressure to write something hilarious. See, that's why I don't want to be funny for a living: if you're funny once, then people expect more of the funny, and I can't be funny on command. I'm not your personal clown-boy. That's why I go months or years without contacting friends and loved ones -- the funny bank is insolvent, and we're undergoing a hostile takeover, and we know you don't come to the bank for the Bob Ross paintings on the walls.

Speaking of Bob Ross, this evening I went to Amigos to see a banal band called "Caribou". My friends are clearly lacking in musical knowledge, else they'd have told me not, "I saw Caribou this summer; they were great," but instead would have told me, "I saw Caribou this summer. If you want to see a trio from Manitoba doing a ninth-rate rip-off of Neu!, you can't go wrong with Caribou." Fuck. I left after a few songs because I figured, "I can drink at home and listen to Neu 2 and not have to make drunken shouting small talk with two Sheaf editors and a friend of SawMeNakedLastSpring."

As far as logical reasoning goes, that one was freakin' airtight.

In other news:

Valerie Bertinelli and her rock star husband, Eddie Van Halen, are divorcing after 24 years of marriage, Bertinelli's publicist confirmed Tuesday.

To which I say, "Valerie Bertinelli has a publicist?! Bang-up job so far."

Let's hear it for propagation of the species!

Two of my favourite people are expecting a baby!

I'm very happy for them, but I'm also happy for me. Mike didn't say as much in the email, but I have a feeling it's only a matter of time before their list of baby names has been whittled to one: Dave Bushnell French Green. It'd be like having your very own Dave Bushnell in the house! For the next eighteen years!

Maybe I should do that thing that DishNetwork did. DishNetwork said, "Hey, if your town changes its name to 'Dish', we'll give everyone in town free satellite tv [for ten years]." And a town in Texas accepted the offer. So hey, pregnant people: if you name your baby "Dave Bushnell", I'll give you free satellite tv [for ten years]. This offer not legally binding.

I know there are a lot of people in Kansas who don't know how this whole "baby" enterprise works, so I found the following link: German Baby Book. There's a jump between pages 9 and 16, but you're not missing much, Kansans; it's just the Holy Spirit coming down and deciding if it'll be a boy or a girl, and then Jesus pointing at the woman's womb and saying, "Booyah!" and then the woman has a baby in her. I think this fits your new definition of "science".

No, really; I'd stop if it were you calling

Is there anything worse than getting a call from a telemarketer while you're masturbating?

Yes: if the telemarketer is a guy and he just doesn't swing. I hate that.