the paradigms shift

Two quick items on ye olde agenda:
1. Somebody from fucking Adelaide checked out a teeny part of my blog because in a search for Matt Damon on some funny Austrailian engine my post about The Brothers Grimm was result number 11 or some such. Also, if you search for 'Matt Damon' + 'creamed my pants' then I'm result number one! I am now inextricably linked with Matt Damon.

2. Also, I think I'll link to the best photos I've seen from The Brother Grimm right here. No, here. Agh. Here. Most I've seen before, but the first shot, I don't know where that came from, but it's pretty great. I want to go to Praha...

prepping to watch: hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy
whilst listening to: s'il vous plait as done by miles davis

So, I guess it was two nights ago, though it feels like one hell of a long day, I found myself enjoying About a Boy with a lovable Hugh Grant and some fun tunes by Badly Drawn Boy. Well, today felt like a 'Hugh Grant a la About a Boy day'. I fell asleep (passed out, totally exhausted) last night at the wonderfully early hour of midnightish. I didn't wake until 4:30 this afternoon. I immediately spent one unit of time showering, spent 2 units at Oodles (during Sundown) whilst enjoyed Mac & Cheese and thouroughly enjoying a 2003 Pinot Noir, checked out Market Square for a unit, and then headed back to the Oodles wine bar. I think I was theree for 3 units of time. Awesome. It was awesome. Thw wine selection was ok. But the atmosphere and crowd was awesome. I spent no less than 20 minutges chatting with Mike Gibson, the movie guru (of the week at least: see the article on Kung Fu Hustle). I was well oin my way to drunk. He seemed aimable. We talked a great deal about Kurosawa. Also, he wasn't all that familiar with the ouevre of Stephen Chow (especially Shaolin Soccer (the best kung fu film. ever.)). Parenthesis gonw widl! Everybody ever needs to see Shaolin Soccer.

Plus all those individual glasses of varoius varietals added up. Though it is a scant 11 hours since I awoke, I feel as if I had a full day, way too much to drink, and then some. And really, that's totally that last cab sauv talking. I'm going to bed.

Right, well, this article is the silver-lining to an otherwise sadly stupid day. Legions of unrelentless, seemingly unrelated, and rather silly events concatenated in a 'profoundly stupid way'. This one article of serious journalism saved my day from being a thoroughly impeccable write-off. I'm not the first to link it, and I sure as hell hope I'm not the last. Cheers!

reading: rousseau's confessions

Who now [finally] knows all about the logical operator "√~ "? That's right; it's me. I now [kind of sort of] understand all it's implications too. Make the hurting stop!

done read: mother night

You haven't lived until you've seen Ricky Gervais (as David Brent) singing If You Don't Know Me By Now. He looks a lot like Jonathon Frakes just before he's about to teach alien women to love. I've just watched the specials. Again. They make great background noise for a longish session of studying. Again, I'm really just wasting time right now. I've been doing it all day whilst trying to be productive. When will the distracting stop!

currently muddling through: mother night (scroll down a bit to see why)
(not really) listening to: yesterday

Thar do be two kinds o' swabbies. Swabbies who talk like gentleman o' fortunes an' them that do be nothin' but landlocked lubbers. And' they be nothin' more than scurvy bilge rats. Arrr, avast wastin' me own time. T' query o' the day do be: which o' them scallywaggin' muppets do ye be seein' yersef bein`? That be, if a muppet ye must be bein'.

You're Mother Night!

by Kurt Vonnegut

Nobody knows what to believe about you, and you know least of all. You spent most of your time convinced that the ends justify the means, but your means were, well, downright mean! And the end is nigh. Meanwhile all you want is to travel back in time, if not to change, then to just delight in the way it used to be. You are who you pretend to be. Oh yes, you're the great pretender.


Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

high as a kite. How stereotypical.

Rules
1. Leave me a comment saying, “Interview me.”
2. I will respond by asking you five questions. I get to pick the questions.
3. You will update your blog/site with the answers to the questions and leave the answers as comments on my blog.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

Questions
1. What about the Thing, is his dork made of orange rock?

Many have wondered if Ben Grimm has orange rock testicales. Indeed, I am geek with a working knowledge of Kevin Smith's films. At any rate, after extensive internet research I could not find a nude photo of The Thing and have come to the conclusion that no one has yet to check. Though I believe on blind faith alone (of course what is faith but blind; we're allowed to be redundent) that the whole package is made of rock. The color is more difficult to reckon: for what if The Thing is actually naturally much more yellow. He might just spend a lot of time in a tanning bed. I'd bet he's got a tan line. If he tans... Maybe yellow. Maybe orange. Definitely rock.


2. What song would you like playing as you drive a sixteen-wheel truck through a horde of zombies?

A question I've long pondered and experimented with while playing one of many various video games (you know the ones I mean). Really, I've got a few soundtracks' worth of song ideas off the top of my head. Some make for a more Tarantino-esque moment, some just rock, some have oddly appropriate lyrics, others don't make any sense at all. The first song I can think of is Here Comes the Sun as performed by The Beatles. If it's a slo-mo montage of me hitting zombies with a big truck then I'd have to go with Life on Mars?, David Bowie or Everybody Hurts, R.E.M. Some other runners-up in no particular order are:
Atomic Bounce, Carl Sonny Leyland
3rd Dead Cat, Chuck Brodsky
Special, Garbage
Take the Power Back, RATM
Right Next Door to Hell and Live and Let Die, Guns N' Roses
Espionage, Green Day
P.E.T.R.O.L., Orbital
Too Tough to Die and Blitzkrieg Bop and anything Ramones

Let it be known that it's heart-wrenching to pick one song. Also, there are plenty of great songs not immediately recallable. I suppose if I had to pick one song, just one song, it'd be the classic Bad Moon Rising by none other than CCR.


3. Why should anyone watch "A Christmas Story" ever again?

If nobody does, then no one will watch TNT for the month or so around Christmas when all it airs is A Christmas Story over and over. What would the world be like if Teddy didn't make as much money? I'll tell you. Three words: about the same (what has the UN really done recently...)


4. Who is your daddy, and what does he do?

That's a rather personal question, don't you think? By the way, is she a goer? Know what I mean, know what I mean. Nudge, nudge. Wink, wink...


5. When is enough enough?

Soon enough. Unless of course, that's not soon enough.

# // posted by Michael : 01:08 //

It's weird that 5 days feels like a long time since I've posted. Once every 5 weeks used to be fine with me. Anywho, in the past week I've lost a car, felt (and still feel) like rubbish (a cold methinks), and NyQuil'd my life away. I've been out of both the social and academic loops! I have, on the plus side, slept a great great deal.

I also had the oppurtunity to spend a great deal of time with Tim, staying up late, chatting, playing JK2 and watching Stargate. We found some pictures from last summer that I didn't even know about and Tim was too drunk to really remember taking. Example:





They're from John's bachelor party. A lot of craziness happened. It happened nearly a year ago so my memory is understandably not all that clear on the order of events...

And now it's more certain than ever before that upon my way-to-imminent matriculation from the very fine institution of UT, I will venture into the business world. Instead of the bar/microbrewery idea, now we're thinking liquor store to start off with. I already pretty much know how to own and operate one. Little risk involved! It's too soon for grad school, I don't really want a job, so how about a small liquor store venture! The reasoning do be sound.

spending my saturday night: drugged up, drinking Coors, and watching Bond films

The title says it all.

*since yesterday

Requirements:
-01 copy Gosford Park
-10 bottles beer per person

Rules:
-01 swig(s) beer per smoking or drinking event witnessed on screen
-02 swig(s) beer per molestation or other inappropriateness directed towards the wait-staff
-03 swig(s) beer per slow pan reveal of bottles of poison (or any other subtle murder weapon reveal)
-06 swig(s) beer per incident in which Elsie yells in defense of William at dinner (because, well, damn)

Winner:
It's always Sean Connery. Don't ask why.

listening to: the entertainer from somewhere upstairs. again.

Oh, an Ray, this means you. But only because you're from there. Not that you are a terrorist or um... well, anyway, you're not. I gotta go. Something. Bye.

Southerners just really seem to strike the right nerve. I normally don't like a fight. Plus, Bruckheimer+Bay's The Rock is cinematic genius. Welcome to the Rock. I guess it's really a Michael Bay film. Pearl Harbor. Ben Afleck. Still vomitting uncontrollably. But still, Bruckheimer. But still, Pearl Harbor. Why with the memories. Agggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggh...

I don't know who drank the last of my beer, but I'll have you know that I was saving that for tasting every month for a few months. You could've at least asked. I only needed three more. You could have had one or even two. I could've gotten by with just two more! Well, whomever did it had better give me good notes on it's flavor, texture, etc. If I'm to take starting a microbrewery seriously (and I am) I should think I need to know how to make beer, how long it'll last, when it's reached it's best age, and so on. The nuances aren't nearly as complicated as they might be with a good merlot, but I still would like some first hand experience with what happens with beer. Just because I was in my bedroom didn't mean you couldn't ask. It meant the cooler, British The Office was playing far too loudly for me to hear my phone... Errrr, two months of waiting and I'm back to square one.

still escaping reality via: Snow Crash

My side of the pond now has it's very own The Office as everyone I know is probably aware. I watched it earlier tonight. It was the first episode I've seen. I laughed a lot more than I thought I would. I might even go so far as to say I liked it, which seems to against the way I normally do things. What's happened to me!

Oh, and Sin City rocked my cock off! Ebert and I see eye-to-eye once more! Except I just maybe could have gone without Bruce Willis forcably removing that pedophile's genatalia with his bear hands... That made my cock cringe. That part didn't rock.

escaping real life via: Snow Crash, Scrubs, and a dancing Jessica Alba

I swore I saw a body wrapped up in a bloody, dirty sheet along the highway last night. I swerved a little bit to avoid hitting it. At first I thought it might have been plastic or a sheet going where the wind takes it. At the last moment I decided it was something much more substantial wrapped up in a dirty sheet, and thus swerved rather rapidly to avoid hitting it. The breeze of my passing car didn't stir it. It looked awfully human sized and shaped. The sheet had red stains showing in a couple of places. I was morbidly curious, but in the end decided not to turn around and investigate further. Scott was also inclined to not investigate; we trucked on. So, as far as I know, I had to avoid running over a stray cadaver last night. That's the story I know and I'm sticking to it.