Sunday's French swashbuckler is Monday's sex criminal

I guess the WorldEmpress wanted to know about my moustache. I think you do, too. And you might as well toss me into that camp while you're at it, because as little as I understand how it started, I understand even less how it's managed to continue.

So sit back and let me tell you about September 2007 ...

September 2007 was a fun Limbo that really wasn't that fun at all. I'd just had a terrific couple of weeks in Europe with the fantastic Laura, but had returned to a house in the Catskill Mountains of Upstate New York that was without Laura and without employment, but packed to the gills with late-summer satellite television. (The new Fall shows had yet to premiere at this point, and when they did premiere they all pretty much sucked. Even 30 Rock, the best 30 minutes of tv (19 minutes without commercials, hey hey!) was not as good as it had been the previous season.) My current employer was not yet my current employer; despite initial interest in my application, they took weeks to answer my emails. And Laura was back in Saskatoon, finishing school (but not at finishing school, the lack of which would come to haunt her in later years). I did what any boy with neither paycheck nor playmate would do: I took lots of pictures of myself.

I'm not going to post most of these pictures, since the majority of them clung to the theme of "Let's see what hat/prop combination I can come up with tonight!" (I was 32 at the time. Did I mention that? 32.) The first night it was fez/hunting rifle. Another night it was rice farmer's bamboo hat/frying pan. And one fateful night, it was sombrero/moustache.

There was one picture in particular in that last series that I liked. Looked like some creepy intense serial killer about to bathe in blood, or maybe a French novice pirate captain getting to raid his first Spanish treasure ship. For the purposes of this blog entry, let's pretend we only see the latter.

Fig. 1: Laura claimed to like it, too.

I shaved the moustache as soon as I was done taking pictures and didn't give it much thought.

That was September 2007 in a nutshell.

I eventually got hired at the newspaper and moved away from the Catskills and satellite tv, and 30 Rock eventually got better.

But then malaise set in. Since October 28th I'd been photocopying my face every day to make my quotidian existence less figuratively quotidian. But I was getting unsatified. What's a fella to do?

Clearly, the answer is "Quit your job and join the Peace Corps." The rebuttal to tha answer is "The Peace Corps can take over a year to process an application, so find something else to do in the interim." How about growing a moustache? "Sure, that'll do." I was borderline pretty sexy in that French pirate photo. "OK, that's plenty-" A few weeks in the gym and I'd be Magnum, PI. "Great. Good. Interior monologue out."

So with the memory of

in mind, I took to growing a moustache. Except it didn't turn out like

it turned out like

which is creepy intense without the French pirate thing going on ... and I'm mystifyingly OK with that.

Laura was here for a visit last week and seemed supportive of the moustache. (You can examine her photos at laurakeil.com/blog for any traces of disgust.)

I keep meaning to shave the moustache, but when it comes down to it, I'd rather spend my time napping. Lately I've had a cold that refuses to go away, y'see. I nap instead of shaving, and the moustache grows unabated.

Growing a moustache: Even easier than napping!

Terror level: mentholated

I was at my desk with a coughdrop in my mouth when I had a coughing fit. The fit as so forceful that could feel the coughdrop hit my palm as it flew out of my mouth. When I finished coughing I looked around and saw no coughdrop. No coughdrop my desk, no coughdrop stuck to the front of my shirt or my pants, no coughdrop inside my shirt or inside my shirtpocket or pants pockets. No coughdrop on the floor. No coughdrop stuck inside my moustache. I went to men's room and checked myself in the mirror, but still no coughdrop. I think I must swallowed it because that's the only place I can't check.

Oh, how I wish I had a coughdrop-detecting MRI here. Or would a CAT scan be better? Maybe a PET scan. I suppose if the coughdrop were irradiated, it'd be easy to pick up on an MRI, but the coughdrop wasn't irradiated, unless there's something about cherry-flavored echinacea they're not telling me.

What's especially troublesome about this disappearing coughdrop is that if it didn't end up inside me, one of my co-workers will spot the coughdrop before I do and I'll look silly. My future embarrassment is a ticking timebomb and the longer until it goes off, the louder the ticking, the worse the explosion. I'll be lucky to get any sleep tonight, and I'll be lucky to avoid institutionalization tomorrow night. The night after that, I'll be lucky to be alive.

Fucking coughdrop.

There's no sheep in shepherding

Last night I watched Black Sheep, a horror-comedy from New Zealand that unfortunately shares its title with a Chris Farley movie. I've never seen a Chris Farley movie but I think it's safe to say New Zealand's Black Sheep was a million billion times better than Chris Farley's Black Sheep. For one thing, NZ's Black Sheep is a horror comedy about genetically engineered sheep that develop a taste for human flesh. For another thing, it doesn't have Chris Farley. See how that works?

Here's a trailer:



Within the first five minutes of the movie, I resolved that it is my goal in life to give up this newspaper layout gig and buy a sheep ranch in New Zealand. After looking at www.realestate.co.nz/rural I changed my resolution to buying a sheep ranch in New Zealand after I retire. I mean, I can afford a $400,000 tract of land, but I don't think that price includes sheep or sheep food or scissors to gather wool. I might also need to hire an intern to do the actual sheep-related stuff. In addition, I could probably use an interpreter because whatever adorable mumbles come out of those folks' mouths, it sure ain't English.


UPDATE: Apparently New Zealand is still clinging to the Queen's petticoats. Fuck that noise. Looks like it's back to the silo for me.

Arbitrary paragraph breaks

Using my internet time travel machine, you can go to the past and see the comment written by Anonymous which includes a handy, non-html (and thus not actually handy) link to the Escape to Chimp Eden preview.

I was at my mom's house this weekend and my mom has satellite tv service, so you can imagine my disappoinment when I had to return to NJ four hours before Escape to Chimp Eden started because of an incoming storm. That's ok; re-watching the preview I can't help but think, "Well, that's the show right there." How much more can there be to it?

It's not like The Wire.

Ah, The Wire. Mondays at work are very slow, so I download and watch the previous evening's episode of The Wire when no one is looking/caring. It's fun to work at a newspaper and watch a tv show about a newspaper and think "If I worked at that newspaper, they would fire me for downloading and watching a tv show about my other job." But if the next season of The Wire included a running subplot about the Baltimore drug trade's effect on a chimpanzee rehabilition preserve in South Africa, then they'd ... probably still fire me. But it'd be so worth it!

And speaking of the Baltimore drug trade: Does anybody else watch The Wire and think "There is no way in hell I'm ever visiting Baltimore"? Because wow does the city not come off well in that show. It's like the city has only two different demographics: drug dealers and non-drug dealers, the latter of whom miraculuously resist the urge to commit suicide every morning they wake up and realize they're sharing Baltimore with the former. If there's any justice, the series finale of The Wire will be an hour-long infomercial showing happy, ambitious, successful people living, loving, and working in Baltimore (said infomercial sponsored by the Baltimore Chamber of Non-Drug Commerce).

Contrast and Compare (Minus Compare)

A)




B)




Answers:

1) Video A does not have a puppy.
2) Video B features German accountants pretending to be teenagers on a show called "Hits A Go-Go."
3) Video A is somewhat repetitive.
4) "Bert" from Video B is a better dresser than the hippies playing the Devil's music in Video A.
5) Video B is in color.
6) Have I mentioned the puppy? How about the way "Cindy" fixes a zombie-like stare on the puppy? No? Then that.

What annoys me

1. The mysterious origin of the Etruscans. Come on!
2. The unavailability of book valises like the one Tom Stoppard uses.
3. Did I mention the Etruscan thing?
4. And the valises again.
   

What to do if you are shot (apologies for small size)

This post here

I'm still sick. It stinks. For three days I've been trying to write a post about my two new favorite blogs:

1. Lisa Miceli's Official Blog
   Written by one of Michael Jordan's former mistresses, this blog makes Rosie O'Donnell look like Charles Dickens.
   
   An aside: I went to Rosie O'Donnell's blog to see if it's as crazy as ever. Judging by this part from today's post ...
   

   confetti
   did u see that confetti
   people under estimate
   the value of confetti
   

   ... I'd have to say, "Mmmaybe."
   
   According to the ever-dependable Meadville Tribune, Lisa Miceli sued Michael Jordan for paternity of her child. He had his DNA tested twice but both tests came back negative. Jordan has since filed a something something I don't care because Miceli is continuing her crusade on her blog, which is totally incomprehensible yet endlessly readable. If I were going in for a job interview, I would attempt to memorize one of her posts and recite that as my answer to the interviewer's first question. The interviewer would think "That's the most original response to 'How are you?' I've ever heard. This guy's hired!" Here's a sample from January 31, titled "BUT .. I KNOW THAT KELLY WERNER WAS TRYING TO CLAIM IT AS HER WRITINGS...":
   

   And MJ will give me tickets to his events like MJ and I planned... not you.. he did not know you.. he called you bowlegs... and I am the one with the horse.. not you..... so no, I doubt that he knows you.. unless Star Magazine CALLED YOU.... not me.... or tabloids called you.. or the news called you..... or some blonde haired guy called you Kelly Werner.... or Chad.... or my brother... Kelly... GET A FUCKING LIFE....
   
   Do you not have a lover in your past that you liked and he liked you???? MJ DID NOT WANT TO KNOW YOU KELLY ..... so get your facts straight... I will post photos of my skin... I do not have skin problems... Kelly Werner.... WORRY ABOUT YOUR OWN STD's KELLY .... they are there.... THAT IS PRETTY FUCKING SCARYYYYY.....
   
   OH... and your man..... BAHAHAHHHAAAAA your fucking SCARYYYYYY with your bad skin.... so sad that you are focusing on me, Lisa Miceli sexually and not your MONEY BAGS HAG TACO KELLY WERNER (from what you steal from people)...... who wants to now eat Chinese food all of the time.... MJ will know what that means.... and get that one...
   
   So, no Kelly... I do not need you... you need me to appear clean from drugs when you are not... so please... leave me alone or I will give it right back at you.
   
   LISA MICELI IS LISA MICELI......

   
   
   It goes on like that for awhile. In fact, judging by the end of that post, "All l", I think Miceli reached the maximum number of characters allowed by Blogger for a single post, but didn't feel like going back and removing a couple of dots from her ellipses to be able to finish her thought. You may be asking, "Who's Kelly Werner?" You know, I have no idea. This blog could use a Dramatis Personae, but that would take some of the fun out of it.
   
   
2. And what else is fun? The new blog started by the Transportation Safety Administration. You know, those douchebags who won't let you bring toothpaste on an airplane. Hosted at the TSA's website but also running the Blogger engine, the blog is titled "Evolution of Security" and has the tagline "Terrorists Evolve. Threats Evolve. Security Must Stay Ahead. You Play A Part." In my opinion, that's the best evocation of George Orwell since "If you suspect anything, say everything," but that line had the benefit of being a joke in an episode of 30 Rock. "Terrorists Evolve. Threats Evolve," is basically another delightful attempt at scaremongering from the fine folks who brought you "We think you're bringing your shampoo onboard to make a bomb."
   
   The posts on the TSA blog are more of the vague bullshit that we're used to from that agency, now tossed in with unnecessary attempts at humor. From the post about the necessity of screening shoes: "You'll notice there's no mention of good old shoe bomber Richard Reid yet." You're the federal government; please try to take your job even a little bit seriously. That line about the "good old shoe bomber" was written by Bob. According to the "Meet our bloggers" page, Bob's hobbies include record collecting and photography. Knowing his employer, I'm inclined to think "record collecting" means "personal data collection" and not "rare Beatle LP's," and "photography" means "surveillance."
   
   One of my favorite elements of the blog, aside from learning that TSA blogger Ethel likes ice cream and is a competitive hog caller, is that comments are enabled. Thus every post is filled to bursting with comments from justifiably irate passengers ("At least the clowns at the TSA are having some fun with this. Now, watch this drive.") and sycophantic TSA employees ("I was just on the screening floor prior to writing this and I tried a little experiment. I greeted each passenger with a smile and asked how they were doing. You would not believe how much that little bit of effort changed the climate at the checkpoint."). That last comment? That was Bob again.
   
   Another thing I like about the blog is the complete misunderstanding of chaotic internet culture. To wit:
   

   Don't forget, we want your feedback but it has to be in the right place because we can't move comments around on this blog yet. Post shoe comments and questions in that link, post liquids issues and scientific research proving us wrong in the liquids page. For anyone interested in discussing screening the elderly and children, feel free to comment right here.

   
   Considering there is an average of one official reply for every hundred comments, I don't see why they care where the comments appear. There is much talk of using the blog to "improve things" but there is no indication of which things are going to be improved nor how the blog is going to achieve this. I honestly don't think the TSA has a real plan in place. But watch this drive!
   

Domestic dispute

There is a disagreement about when is an appropriate time to get out of bed and walk to the kitchen. I say "Now" is fine. Nyquil disagrees with me, and Nyquil has gravity on its side.