I am really on the cusp of missing mine, so basically what I'm doing is writing an entry whereby I acknowledge that I should have written an entry, which is still writing an entry, so there it is.
More to come in May, filling some with dismay.
Monday, April 30, 2012
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Welcome Back
Shout out Mase. Whenever I skip town for a bit, town being Chicago these days, it takes a little adjusting for me to settle back into a routine. I know this is not unique to me, but I find it amusing the small elements that effect my ability to return to some sort of normalcy. Back a few years, on my walk to work through midtown Manhattan, I had my friendly landmarks that kept me in check. I wrote about that in here, but maaaaaan, I'm trying not to be self-referential, even though I already have been so now this just reeks of laziness in not bothering to find that link.
When I got on the train this past Thursday morning it was decidedly less packed than usual, which was nice, because I become a grumpus quite easily when packed in. It's not the sharing of that space so much it is that I consider most of the folks I'm packed in with to be rude, as if they don't grasp that we're all in exactly the situation and none of us really want someone else's iPhone giving us a rectal exam (at least not without asking first). I had a spring in my step, which is seasonally appropriate, but right as I climbed the final set of stairs, misfortune befell me: a humanoid male dispelled gas from his posterior.
Given that I was climbing the stairs behind him, this put my face right at fart level. This was rather vile, but due to the secretive nature often adopted when farting, I just smiled to myself with the thought that I had a glass to the door and was let in on the moment, without the embarrassment due the farter when one has noted their fart. Life's a gas sometimes.
When I got on the train this past Thursday morning it was decidedly less packed than usual, which was nice, because I become a grumpus quite easily when packed in. It's not the sharing of that space so much it is that I consider most of the folks I'm packed in with to be rude, as if they don't grasp that we're all in exactly the situation and none of us really want someone else's iPhone giving us a rectal exam (at least not without asking first). I had a spring in my step, which is seasonally appropriate, but right as I climbed the final set of stairs, misfortune befell me: a humanoid male dispelled gas from his posterior.
Given that I was climbing the stairs behind him, this put my face right at fart level. This was rather vile, but due to the secretive nature often adopted when farting, I just smiled to myself with the thought that I had a glass to the door and was let in on the moment, without the embarrassment due the farter when one has noted their fart. Life's a gas sometimes.
Other than that, I was a touch dismayed to see the enormous Skyn condoms billboard removed from it's usual place right across from our office, replaced by some doofy Virgin airlines ad. I'll be a but miffed when that too runs its course.
As nothing of substance and primarily gas has been relayed in this post, I bid you adieu. Until tomorrow.
As nothing of substance and primarily gas has been relayed in this post, I bid you adieu. Until tomorrow.
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
First Impressions
They say these are important. So here's my first impression of blogging at officially a year older than I was the last time I blogged, even though it's been otherwise but a couple of weeks (maybe more). It's also my first impression of the new layout for the blogger dashboard and back end and I have to say, "I'm confused." Surely I'll get the hang of it, but that day is not today. It's always funny to me that by supposed advancements and added ease of use, one can struggle more — it's all in what you get or have gotten used to.
What I do like is the bland format of this editor. It reminds me of typing up stories on my dad's typewriter just because I liked that incessant hum, slapping of keys, and the sound of returning the um, crap, I can't remember what the thing was called that moved — perhaps the register — and you had to slide it back into place when you reached the edge of the page. Then it would ding. It was great for giving one a sense of accomplishment. All you'd have done is written a sentence or two, but all that hum, slap, and dinging made it seem like so much more. Not that I'm any more nostalgic with one more day of birth gone by.
One of my coworkers sent me this jam from Lemon Jelly earlier, and I gotta say, besides gotta being a colloquialism now accepted in common usage, this song just makes me want to mellow out. The fact is I generally want to mellow out, but I challenge anyone to put that on and get flustered. At times during it I can hear the riff from Mellencamp's Jack and Diane, I swear, but that doesn't detract. I'm bumpin' that track at the moment and yes, I said bumpin', and yes I am probably too old to say that but who's to say besides me right now suggesting it — someone of course but like, how are they the authority?
At any rate, not much more to say than to talk about a Lemon Jelly jam for now.
What I do like is the bland format of this editor. It reminds me of typing up stories on my dad's typewriter just because I liked that incessant hum, slapping of keys, and the sound of returning the um, crap, I can't remember what the thing was called that moved — perhaps the register — and you had to slide it back into place when you reached the edge of the page. Then it would ding. It was great for giving one a sense of accomplishment. All you'd have done is written a sentence or two, but all that hum, slap, and dinging made it seem like so much more. Not that I'm any more nostalgic with one more day of birth gone by.
One of my coworkers sent me this jam from Lemon Jelly earlier, and I gotta say, besides gotta being a colloquialism now accepted in common usage, this song just makes me want to mellow out. The fact is I generally want to mellow out, but I challenge anyone to put that on and get flustered. At times during it I can hear the riff from Mellencamp's Jack and Diane, I swear, but that doesn't detract. I'm bumpin' that track at the moment and yes, I said bumpin', and yes I am probably too old to say that but who's to say besides me right now suggesting it — someone of course but like, how are they the authority?
At any rate, not much more to say than to talk about a Lemon Jelly jam for now.
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
April Showers...
On aggregate, take hours. I mean really, if you took all the time people spent showering in April, it'd be a rather good number of days, hours, and so on. How good? Well, I'm curious, but not curious enough to do any work. And mostly I just have that old "April showers bring May flowers" ditty stuck in my brain. I think, like many, I have a pretty short term memory with the weather. So while this April seems to have been light on showers – the rain kind – I don't even remember April as being traditionally rainy. Am I still talking about this? Do I hope the lack of rain continues? Yes. It also dipped into the mid-30s today, which isn't unseasonably cold, but since it's been unseasonably warm, complaining almost seems like the thing to do. Almost. April Showers and May flowers sound like adult film stars anyway...
If you've followed this blog a touch over the years, particularly those older, glory days, you'll note some persistent grumbling about advertising. If that's your thing, lucky you, for here's a touch more. The latest ad inspiring mild frustration within me is this Nike "Run to you" one. It's not that it's worse than a lot of other ads out there, it's that I happened to see it. I'm cool with the concept of female strength, and that this chick is all good at running, whereas the dude ends up hospitalized because he's a chump and drank a raw egg before running (among other chumpable qualities). The dude's running form actually struck me as not that bad, while his object of affection was a little more robotic in her motion (in a way that the form of many long distance runners sometimes is, due to feelings on economy of form and motion and such). But I run like a weirdo, so never mind any of that.
What I'm getting at, then, is the intended takeaway of this ad and the perpetuation of stereotypes (and even archetypes). Strong female, again, no problem. But then why is she with a weenus who sprints for a few blocks in New York and then awaits his girlfriend running 3,000 miles or so, at which point she hops on top because poor weak boyfriend can't do anything? I'm not saying the dude needs to be super strong, his girlfriend weak, and she be reliant on him, I'm just maybe looking for a meeting in the middle. For all misogynistic and patriarchal perpetuation, there is a lot of portrayal of men as idiots. It's cool, sometimes we are. And yet, even though I should be making out like a bandit on this deal — lying prostrate on my bed while a woman who, by modern concepts of attractiveness, is much better looking than me, and has just run thousands of miles to tend to me, in the biblical sense — I'm kind of against it, because it really cheapens the whole thing. Doesn't that make the woman not strong? Shouldn't she strive for a dude that isn't physically and mentally inept?
I don't know, I just get grumpy sometimes. Hell, I'd probably have portrayed that chump if it meant a nice pay day. Like the old Sprite adage goes, "Integrity is nothing, cash is everything. Obey your greed."
Obey your greed muuutttttthhhhaaaaafuuucckkkaaaas!
If you've followed this blog a touch over the years, particularly those older, glory days, you'll note some persistent grumbling about advertising. If that's your thing, lucky you, for here's a touch more. The latest ad inspiring mild frustration within me is this Nike "Run to you" one. It's not that it's worse than a lot of other ads out there, it's that I happened to see it. I'm cool with the concept of female strength, and that this chick is all good at running, whereas the dude ends up hospitalized because he's a chump and drank a raw egg before running (among other chumpable qualities). The dude's running form actually struck me as not that bad, while his object of affection was a little more robotic in her motion (in a way that the form of many long distance runners sometimes is, due to feelings on economy of form and motion and such). But I run like a weirdo, so never mind any of that.
What I'm getting at, then, is the intended takeaway of this ad and the perpetuation of stereotypes (and even archetypes). Strong female, again, no problem. But then why is she with a weenus who sprints for a few blocks in New York and then awaits his girlfriend running 3,000 miles or so, at which point she hops on top because poor weak boyfriend can't do anything? I'm not saying the dude needs to be super strong, his girlfriend weak, and she be reliant on him, I'm just maybe looking for a meeting in the middle. For all misogynistic and patriarchal perpetuation, there is a lot of portrayal of men as idiots. It's cool, sometimes we are. And yet, even though I should be making out like a bandit on this deal — lying prostrate on my bed while a woman who, by modern concepts of attractiveness, is much better looking than me, and has just run thousands of miles to tend to me, in the biblical sense — I'm kind of against it, because it really cheapens the whole thing. Doesn't that make the woman not strong? Shouldn't she strive for a dude that isn't physically and mentally inept?
I don't know, I just get grumpy sometimes. Hell, I'd probably have portrayed that chump if it meant a nice pay day. Like the old Sprite adage goes, "Integrity is nothing, cash is everything. Obey your greed."
Obey your greed muuutttttthhhhaaaaafuuucckkkaaaas!
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