Nice Package.

Sometimes it just doesn't pay to be a DVD fan.

Whenever I'm buying a DVD I'll buy the Special Edition over the regular version. I like the better features and packaging - but then, doesn't everyone?

For most movies this is easy. They either release the Special Edition at the same time (300) or let you know it's coming and release it after a week or two. (Lord of the Rings). This gives you the chance to make a choice about what you want.

What pisses me off is when I wait and wait for a movie to finally come out on DVD and when it does, it's a bare-bones edition. I snatch it up, because sometimes that is all you are going to get. Then it turns out that six months down the road they release a Special Edition with all the bells and whistles.

Fuck you Hollywood - you know I'm going to want to buy it - in effect I'm buying the same movie twice. I know I could just suck it up and live with it, but do you have any idea how hard it is to look at your DVD rack and know that it's not what it could be? I can't even look at Reservoir Dogs without wishing it was the Gas Can Edition. Princess Bride? Yeah - I got fucked over by that one too. (Damn Dread Pirate Roberts Edition - it haunts me, it truly does.) But what do I do? "Sorry Boys, no food tonight - Daddy had to upgrade Escape from New York." It just doesn't seem reasonable.

I'm a junkie. I have a addiction. I know this.

So why doesn't Hollywood just make every edition a Special Edition? Can't they just relieve me of the agony of owning sub-standard DVD's? Something must be done. Something has to be done.

I'm thinking about writing my MLA about it, but I'm sure they'll put it on the back burner and go with some "popular" issue, like Education or Health Care. (You just can't fight the system.)

I'll carry on my one man crusade - and later on, in six months, it'll be Crusade! - Special Edition. (I'll be wearing a new shirt.)



Later.

Lounge Chair.

In the past I used to be able to read when-and-wherever the mood struck me. If I wanted to read by moonlight on the back deck - so be it. It didn't matter that it was bad for my eyes, it was good for the soul.

Now that I have children to watch my reading time has been cut down considerably. It's hard to have your nose in a book when you've got to supervise what they are doing. I don't even bother to try.(Plus playing with them is pretty fun after all.)

Even if you don't have to keep an eye on them, it's tough. Just try reading with a two or four-year old around. My kids love books so much that they climb all over me just to see what I'm reading. (They are always surprised that it's not a Disney Book and that there aren't any pictures.)

I still read in bed - always have. But some days I'm so tired that I can't force myself to stay awake, not even if it is a really good book.

Thus we turn to my last bastion of literary solitude - the toilet.

I'll admit - I've read more of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows while in the bathroom than in any other room in my house. It's almost the only place that you can get away from any distractions or disturbances. (It's still difficult, as The Boys will try to infiltrate The Fortress of Solitude any way they can.) I'm not sure if J.K. Rowling would be impressed with my seating arrangements, but it's the best I have at the moment.

Don't start thinking that I spend all my time in there. I am quite a fast reader, after all. I'm making good time on the book, and the only one I can thank for that is my colon. ("Keep it up down there! We'll tackle War & Peace next!")

I've got to go - I think I'll put a fresh roll in there and see if I can soften the lighting a little bit.... This next chapter's really shaping up.



Later.

Up & Away.

Now I know why I wanted to be an Astronaut when I was younger.

The guys who run NASA are more lenient than your everyday cop when it comes to drunk driving.

"Hey Jim - Bob looks a little loaded."

"He just had a few to relax, don't worry. Besides, what's he gonna hit up there?"

"He just threw up on his shoes, Jim."

"At least it wasn't at zero-g, right? Send 'im up!"

It's great how our finest minds and the best trained staff run into the same problem that I do when I go to the bar. Too bad they couldn't cab it to the International Space Station, right?

Where do I sign up for tryouts?
I think I can still chug 4 coolers in under a minute - that should make me at least Second Chair material. (Playing Quarters with no gravity is gonna be a bitch, though.)


Later.

Fuckerheads.

Let me make a point: It wasn't a bad day at work.

It was more annoying than anything else.


Back when I worked at the Arches, many moons ago, we had a term for those employees who would just stand around, barely doing their required jobs - we called them Fuckerheads.

Sure, the semi-professional (yet still frowned upon) term was Pylons, but I don't think that quite expressed my disdain for those people who I deemed worthy of the title. A Pylon, after all, serves a purpose and the staff I had to deal with some days didn't even qualify for that. (I believe the Management Training Guide calls them "Opportunities", but let's call a spade a spade.)

Some of the staff who work for me have Officially been crowned Fuckerheads.

It's to the point with one or two of them that I just shake my head and give up.

I work with a 30 year old woman who can't seem to complete an eight hour shift. She's either sick, injured, or has some unknown "medical condition". Watching her move is painful - she tops out at around snail speed. (Common Fuckerhead trait.)

Another one is about 45 and speaks like a six year old. She uses words like "doodie" and "caca" and the most maddening thing is that when you do have to talk to her, she won't look you in the eye. I'm not asking for a staring contest - just an acknowledgment that you are able to pay attention. (Classic symptoms of Fuckerhead status.)

I enjoy working with the younger staff more than these ladies. Even our newest front-end girls aren't half as crazy as these.

It's days like this that I miss being in charge of hiring and firing. At least then I had no one to blame but myself. My day will come soon though, and then the revolution will begin.

No more Fuckerheads.


Later.

Ten Will Get You Twenty...

.... And Pocket 7's will get you shit.

That's right - low stacked, pocket 7's, all in.

Didn't hold up.

It was nice to play real poker again, so I'm not bitter. It was almost a surreal experience, after so long of an absence. Good to feel the chips, (even though I lost them all) and have the friendly banter.

Now I'm itching to play more.

I'm a man of addictions - what can I say?


Later.

1-18-08.

When I went to see Transformers, there was this kick-ass trailer before it.

I'm not going to describe it for you, but you can see it here.

Now there has been much buzz around the Internet about this movie. The website for it doesn't even tell you anything about it, it's just some pictures and shit. It seems like crazy marketing, yes?

But damn it makes me want to see it.

Big speculation now is that it's a new Godzilla movie. I don't care if it's true or not, but if it is it can only be a good thing. Any movie that starts off by kicking the shit out of New York is fine by me.

And I only have to wait 176 days to find out what it's all about!

Hopefully the Internet says true to form and spoils the shit out of it for me.
(Fingers crossed.)



Later.

Cheesy.

Just got back from the movies.

Took The Boy to see Ratatouille - and it was surprisingly good. (I shouldn't be surprised - it's Pixar after all.)

Going to the movies with a four-year old is an interesting experience. Imagine someone who can't sit still. At all. They're so hyped up just to be there, that they almost miss the fact that there is a movie going on. And my Boy? He's a people watcher. He'd rather be checking out the hot five-year old two lanes down than wondering why there's a rat starring in the film.

Thank God he didn't have to get up and pee five times - after the last time, we made sure to empty him out before we even go into the theater.

But he enjoyed himself, and that's what counts. I'm amazed he stopped bouncing around long enough to allow us to get him into bed.

So now I'm off to bed, and if I dream about rats cooking me dinner, I'm sending the therapy bill to Brad Bird.


Later.

I'm a Pvrert.

If there was one piece of technology that has subtly changed the way I look at the world, it would be the PVR.

The first time I saw one was at the Twin's place, and he had basically just used it to save the last half of a hockey game while we put all the kids to bed. I was viewing it mainly as a fancy type of VCR.

(But it's so much more than that.)

When I got my HDTV, I signed up for the town's Digital Cable service. You get your choice of cable box to rent, so I chose the one with the PVR over the standard box. I thought it might be useful - more as a thing of convenience than anything else.

It's great to use and so easy to program recordings on - literally one button. But that's not the feature that won my heart over.

As a parent, I've missed bits and pieces of television shows or movies over the years. There are so many interruptions or noisy distractions that can occur that it's almost impossible to catch everything - if you add my shitty hearing to the mix, it's a wonder that I can follow a plot.

My savior? The ability to pause and rewind live T.V.

Phone rings? Pause it and get back to it later. Kids yelling and playing too loud? Pause, play with kids, watch when you've worn them out. The great thing about the feature is that when you go back you can speed through all the commercials. Yay! I can also skip back 5 minutes or so and listen to something again if I didn't get it the first time.

The big benefit is to my patience. I used to get really annoyed if I was interrupted while watching something that I wanted to see. Take today for example - I was interrupted about five times while trying to watch a documentary on the history of cigarette manufacturing and marketing. (It was great.) Normally that would have driven me nuts. But each time something happened, I was able to pause, deal with it, and get back to what I wanted to watch without having missed anything, and without the hassle of having to setup a tape or program channels.

It's a wonderful life.

I'm waiting for the next step in the technology. Real Life PVR would be great. Who wouldn't want to be able to rewind, fast forward or repeat sections of a day or week? Life with no commercials - what could be better?

Now you'll have to excuse me - I think I have something on pause.


Later.

The Scientific Method.

I sometimes wish I was a Scientist.
(Not Scientologist - let's not get them confused.)

I was reading Discover magazine today (Yea - I do read something other than Maxim and Stuff) and there was a guy who discovered a new type of bee. I can't spell the Latin term for it, but when spoken it sounds like "Theory of Relativity". I don't know exactly why he named it that, but I think it's cool. Scientists get to name shit whatever the hell they want. (Can't they call something "Alotta Vagina"?)

Take the VLT project. It's a telescopic array in Chile. VLT sounds very ambiguous and technical, so you assume it's something important. Bullshit. It means Very Large Telescope. Glad they are dumbing it down for the rest of us.

What I'm trying to say is that for the most part - I think that it's great that these people have a sense of humor. I think they'd be interesting to have coffee with. (Maybe iced coffee - chilled with liquid nitrogen!)

Whatever it is, I'm glad that the people who are trying to better mankind have a lighter side to them. I would hate for them all to be like my 8th grade Science Teacher - a miserable sumbitch if I ever met one. "Don't stick the thermometer in the Bunsen burner! What are you, an idiot?"

For your information I wanted to see how hot it really was.
For Science, of course.

Later.

Vice City.

I've got a new Addiction.

I've never been one for so-called "Energy Drinks" - I've always received all the caffeine I need from my good friend Coffee. Lately that familiar acquaintance has been troubling my stomach, and I thought I'd try something different to chase away the withdrawal headache.

Holy shit, I'm hooked.

Let me set this straight - nothing will ever top coffee in my pantheon of beverages. But this stuff sure does come close. I decided to try the sugar-free one because the others I had sampled seemed too sweet for my tastes. I can't seem to get enough.

I see in the States that they sell it with Vodka already mixed in. I'll have to give that one a go the next time I'm in Vegas. (Vodka, caffeine and the Poker tables? I'd be unstoppable.)

So far I've tried to limit my intake to my first Coffee break at work. But I can easily forsee a time when I'm buying this by the case.

I think I'll need a second job just to afford it. (In that situation, all the caffeine will come in handy.)


Later.

Is It Wrong...

-That sometimes (just sometimes) when the Radio at work starts to play "Under Pressure" - I secretly wish they'd change it up and bust out with "Ice Ice Baby"?

I thought so.

Shit.

Does this mean I have to turn in my music appreciation card?


Later.

Time Out.

Too tired from work.

No Coherent thoughts.

Plus, there's fresh Cinnamon Buns waiting in the kitchen....

I wouldn't want to get icing all over the keyboard, right?

Right.


Later.

Clean Up Time.

Of all the things I hate cleaning up, I think I hate cleaning my computer the most.

I go through it about every two months, and delete or burn to disc those items that I deem worthy of keeping or discarding. It's an arbitrary process, with no set standard. I've found a couple of times that I've gone looking for something only to discover that I deleted it the week before.

As bad as software is - cleaning the hardware is worse.

I never cared much about dust until I got a computer. I don't think anyone really cared about it before, either (except for allergy sufferer's) but now dust, and the clogged fans and intakes that come with it are the scourge of the computing world. Isn't it wonderful that we make a machine that is so sensitive to dust and dirt and set it right on the floor? (Oh, I envy you laptop users.)

So I'll tidy up this beast and move on to another domestic task. That laundry doesn't fold itself.

Quick Thought: Pledge does a great job at keeping dust off my tables and bookcases - do you think my motherboard would like it?



Later.

700 Club

Seven Hundred.

If I had a dollar for every post, I could just about afford a PS3! (If I knew someone who could get it without the tax, that is.)

It's not like every post is a shining beacon in the darkness, but as long as I light up a few people's days, it's okay by me.

I've been pretty consistent with the day-to-day posting style, but I'm starting to feel like I don't really have that much to say. It's almost time to cut back a bit, and only post when I feel I have something of merit.

At times I've made this blog a very personal thing, and other times it's more comedic in nature. I'd like to go either one way or the other, really - Emo-funny doesn't work all the time. (Although it's almost exactly the type of guy I am - with a dash of sarcasm here and there.)

What does the future hold?
More updates, to be sure. I've set my sights on One Thousand.


Later.

Outta Time.

Today my sense of time is all fucked up.

I usually work only three given shifts: 8-5, 9-6, or 12-9. Over the last five years, my hours haven't changed much at all - it's always one of those time periods.

My shift today? 10-7.

There is nothing wrong with the shift per se, but it really messed up the flow of my day. (Other than that, it was a great shift - I was able to accomplish a lot of stuff in the evening portion, which was good, as I'm going into days off.) I'm used to going for lunch and breaks at certain times; I don't even need to look at a clock - if I'm getting hungry, it must be close to lunchtime.

But I had to consciously think about what time it was today. My internal clock was all messed up. It's like everyone around me was on Pacific time, and I'm on Mountain.

The great thing was that the day did go by really fast. The bad thing is that it feels like it's 6:30 and it's really almost 8:30. At this rate I should fall asleep at around 4:30am.

Wish me luck.


Later.

Bowl Full of Memory.

See that, on the right? That is my childhood.

As far back as I can recall, almost every morning of my youth involved that bowl somehow. It was given to me when I was about two or three, and there have been countless cereals that have rested therein, if only for a short period of time.

My mother gave it to me today - she had come across it while unpacking from the move. The minute I saw it, I swear I could taste the Frankenberry. It was a pleasant surprise, to say the least.

I always thought that the two boys in there were the Twin and I. (Don't look at me that way, I was just three, for chrissakes!) I would hurry and eat my cereal and then drink the milk in the bottom, just so I could see the picture.

What you don't see is the other thing my mother gave me - My vintage Superman 1979 coffee mug - from when I was 7. Classic is all I can say. (I didn't drink coffee when I was 7 - but if I said coco mug, you'd think I was retarded.)

Too bad they don't make Frankenberry anymore - I'm yearning for a bowl.


Later.

Team Molasses

I can't stand working with people who have only one speed.

I'm able to socialize and have fun at work because when needed, I have the ability to work just a little bit faster and get caught up on anything that I may be behind schedule on. I can also organize myself effectively, and make sure to set aside enough time to finish what I have to do.

Not everyone can do that, as I've learned today.

Normally I don't notice it too much, a but today I was working with three people who I find abysmally slow at their jobs. (I'd almost love to shove them aside and show them how it's done, but then they would be doing even less work.) On a regular day, there's usually a faster employee working who kinda covers it, but today the lack of speed was noticeable.

There's not much else I can do but urge them to be faster. (Lord, I miss the days of being in charge of firings.) I've tried coaching and encouragement, but it seems that the biggest downfall they have is age and attitude. (Do you think a pen in the eye would cure the attitude part?)

I buried my frustrations into a hard little ball, which I then forced, down,down,down into the pit of my stomach. After that I felt much better. I don't have to work with that same combination for a while, and I'm going to see what I can do to prevent having to work with them at all.

Thank God it was only one day.


Later.

Triskadecaphobia.

Talk about a severe case of Triskadecaphobia.

I must have been so irrationally afraid of Friday the 13th that I forgot to even post about it.

I didn't even realize what day it was until about halfway through my work day. It did explain why half the people I encountered were a bit sketchy, though.

I decided to go agaisnt the grain and actually buy a lotto ticket for Friday night's draw.
Guess what?

I didn't win a fucking thing. I guess there is something to this unlucky business after all....

Shit.


Later.

Lights & Thunder.

I awoke last night to thunder shaking my house.

It was 3:30 in the morning, and it damn near scared the crap out of me.

As soon as I realized what it was, I was okay. In fact, I got up and went out to the living room to better see the show in the sky. As lightning storms go, it was pretty weak. No major flashes, just some sheet lightning, and then rain for about a half hour.

I've always enjoyed thundershowers. I think it's incredible the way nature just lets loose and shows you what she's all about. Amazingly enough - it didn't even wake my kids. I guess nature was having an off night.

I hope it repeats itself tonight - just not at 3 in the morning. (So fucking tired.)
I think I'll make popcorn.



Later.

Starbucks and The Middle-Aged Man.

Every time I walk into a Starbucks I feel like I'm trespassing.

I'm almost acutely aware that I might not be hip enough to be in there. I'm worried I'm going to get called on it, and that I'll be asked to leave so that my inner un-hipness doesn't contaminate the store. (I could run out to the car and grab a Dave Matthews CD to prove myself, right?)

I think that's why Starbucks now has a drive-thru. It's so people like me, who like their coffee - don't have to violate the "inner sanctum" of urban coolness just to get my Venti White Chocolate Mocha.

As the Sidekick and I walked into Starbucks last night, I noticed the looks from some of the other patrons of the store. (Early-20 debutantes) They were either checking us out, or questioning the validity of our presence in what is clearly their domain. (I prefer to think the former - but I'm not going to kid myself.)

Starbucks is a place where people go to watch other people. There's coffee there, but it's not really the main reason people are at the site. Coffee just keeps you alert so your judgement senses are fully tuned in to examine the next patron that comes through the door.

Plus the Frappuccino give me brain freeze. I haven't had brain freeze since I was ten years old.
No wonder the Debutantes were looking - it's not everyday you see a middle-aged guy holding his head and wincing his way through a icy beverage.

I still think they were checking me out, though.


Later.

Wanna Screw?

I received a gift today that both puzzled and enraged me.

I was helping my parents move, and my Dad presented me with the aforementioned gift. He had sorted through his tools while packing, and had made up a couple of toolboxes for the Twin and I. (I have tools, but I'm not going to turn down something that means a lot to my Dad.) My toolbox was full of screwdrivers.

I'm not going to complain about my Dad's gift - it was great. The thing that puzzled and infuriated me is that this is probably the fifth set of screwdrivers I've been given in the last two years.

It made me wonder - why do people see fit to give me screwdrivers? Is there something about me that just screams,"If this guy needed one tool - it would be a screwdriver."? I've got screwdrivers with lights on them, multi-bit screwdrivers, magnetic screwdrivers, you name a gimmick tool for turning screws - I probably have it.

I don't think I project that image. If you walk into my house there aren't a lot of loose light-switch covers or creaky cupboards. I do run a tight ship. ( I have all these screwdrivers, after all...) So what is it about me that makes people view me this way? Why screwdrivers? Why not circular saws? Or sanders?

And it's a hand tool - like I can't be trusted with electricity.

I thanked my Dad, but I won't use these tools. I'll hold on to them- to give to my boy - and I'll teach him to say "No Thanks, I've got a set." Or else to trade all his other sets for something with some juice.

Later.

Current Conditions

It's too fucking hot.
I'm sitting in a pool of sweat just typing this.
I'm going to go cool off - maybe by running down the street naked. (Or not.)
Still better than drinking a Frappuccino.

See you when the sun sets and it gets to a chilly 26°.


Later.

Not Tonight, Dear - I Have a Headache.

It's been an all-around shitty day today.

Between work and some Family Stuff, I have what I believe is the largest headache west of the Pecos. It's hard to even form a coherent thought.

I'm hoping it will be better tomorrow, but until then, I think I'll drug it into submission.

Please help me NyQuil - you're my only hope.


Later.

Spherical Condensation.

I don't know everything.

There are a few subjects that I am well versed in.

Let me tell you about one of them.


Ball Sweat.

It been a long, humid day at the ol' jobsite. I've been busting my ass, working real hard, and even had to get on a ladder and fix some stuff on top of a refrigeration unit. (The heat up there is sweltering.)

As I spend the majority of my time vertical, naturally my body's runoff tends to collect in a certain area. It wouldn't be a problem if I could just pull 'em out and let 'em breathe every once in a while, but I work in a business that deals with the public, so that's a no-no. ( I envy News Anchors - I bet those bastards go pantsless all summer.)

There's no real solution to the problem except to grin and bear it. (I do go into the freezer from time to time - although I keep them tucked in, don't worry.) Boxers, briefs, it doesn't matter what you wear - nothing helps. I could go commando, but that's just nasty.

I guess I'm just not a summer guy - I never hear anyone else complain. But to be truthful, it's not something that us guys generally talk about with one another. So until the fall, I'll just suffer in silence.

Just be thankful I didn't post live footage.


Later.

@#$^%! Blogger!

Blogger is starting to piss me off.

First, I haven't been able to setup a poll since my last one expired. It's not that it won't let me - it's not even a choice in the"Page Elements" section anymore. Don't tease me with shit like that, Blogger, 'cause I swear, I'll cut you.

It's taking me ages just to start a post. For some Godforsaken reason, it won't let me enter a title for my blog. It's like it doesn't want me to be any more descriptive.

Eventually I do get to enter a title, and then when I check my list of posts, I have the same title entered three times! I think the Internet is possessed, and it's portal to Hell is through Blogger's servers. (I think that's the only reasonable explanation.)

So I'll sit here with my Holy Water, ready to splash on my monitor next time I want to post.

Light a candle for me, will ya?


Later.

Dear B.C. Lottery Corporation:

I don't like you very much anymore.

I used to play your games and contests occasionally, and always seemed to do well. I would at least make what I put into it, and sometimes even a little extra.

But lately I find that you seem to have forgotten about me. I rarely win anything anymore, and when I do it seems to be a pittance. I feel that when I do get lucky at one of your contests, it's like the lotto equivalent of a mercy fuck. You're only doing it to keep me around, and hoping I'll score big - "like in the old days".

It seems like the only people who win now are large groups or really old people. What's the point of having an 80 year old guy win 20 million dollars? He'll only be around for another 5 years or so - if the shock of winning doesn't kill him first. Then you have all the relatives fighting over the inheritance. It's a nasty business, really.

Well I'm tired of it.

I think we need some time apart - I feel like my money would be better spent on DVD's or maybe keeping my caffeine addiction in check. (You know - things that make me better as a person.)

Tomorrow's draw will be my last purchase for a while. I figured I'd give you one last chance before I called it quits. (I also had the ticket already, so I'm kinda stuck with it.) Should you see fit to give me the jackpot, I might see my way to buying some more tickets, but otherwise .... we're taking a break.


Later.

The Heat Is On.

It's like someone flicked a switch.

We go from last week's rain and chill to a fucking heat wave in the blink of an eye. I think my pasty white flesh was actually starting to smoke when I stepped into the sunlight. I don't know how the Australians can handle the summer heat year round - I'd wilt like a weed. (I bet there are no Vampires in Australia, though - great selling point.)

It's not that I hate the heat - it's just that I don't deal well with it. I hate being sticky and sweaty (unless....well, you know) so right away I'm off to a bad start. It's not like sitting around keeps you any cooler, either - I sweat almost as much sitting on my ass as I do running around.

I think my Plumber friend to the right has the best idea - Super Soakers. I know that in some parts of the world, the water I'm spraying haphazardly about could be used to water fields and provide cleaner living conditions, but fuck that - I'm hot.

I think I'll go out and sit underneath my sprinkler. If I put my book into a Ziploc bag, I might even be able to read a bit while I'm out there. If worse comes to worst, I might even try one of those faggy Frappuccino drinks The Sidekick's always raving about. (It doesn't make me gay though.)

I'm almost starting to miss those days after my operation when I sat around with frozen peas on my crotch. (Ah... the memories.)


Later.

Dear Michael Bay:

After seeing Transformers last night, I thought I'd write you and let you know my thoughts on the movie.

I was going to write you as soon as I got home from the theater, but cooler heads prevailed and I thought I'd sleep on it.

Why did I have to sleep on it? Just to sort my thoughts out. (And to have at least one sweet dream about Megan Fox.)

I've been reading some comments that people have made about your movie - it seems the detractors were expecting some type of religious experience - I was expecting a Giant Robot Movie - and that's what I got.

Yes, some of the comments about shaky cameras and quick edits are somewhat justified, but if they went into this movie expecting the Robot version of Citizen Kane then I think they may have set their sights too high.

I can almost imagine your to-do list while making this movie, Michael:

• Giant Robots? - Check.
• Likable Human Hero? (Well played by Shia LaBeouf.) - Check.
• Hot Lead Actress? - Check!
• Stunning, Well Thought Out Plot?
• More Explosions Than the Big Bang? - Double Check.
  

Really, what more did you need?

For all those who may complain to you about raping their childhood Michael, I suggest you buy them tickets to the one or two theaters that are still showing Spider-Man 3 and ask them which movie makes them feel more violated. I believe you did the best you could (which was well done) while trying to stay close to the source material and yet giving the studio what they feel the public wants. Thank God you didn't throw in a dance number. (Take that, Sam Rami!)

So to get right down to it - I liked it. It fulfilled what I expected, and was entertaining as a whole.
I'll buy it on DVD when it comes out, and I'd even spring for a Special Edition.

Thanks again Mike, (can I call you Mike?) I hope that the movie does well, and all the haters have mysterious car troubles - those that don't still depend on their Mom and Dad for a ride.



Later.

Results!

Han Solo is a badass.

In a landslide victory, it was decided that Han Solo is the swashbuckling-space-pirate-with-a-heart-of-gold we all thought him to be.

Greedo never had a chance - but then, he never did, right?


I really like the poll option that blogger has done - it's a nice addition to the site. I hope I can do it justice.

I'm off to formulate my next amazing question - make sure you vote, or the Terrorists win!



Later.


For some reason, I can't make a new poll right now - I think it has something to do with Al-Queda - Where's John Rambo when you need him? (Was he any good with code?)

This Just In....

Watching the news is always a perplexing experience for me.

I like to keep informed, but it's such a bleak picture some days. It seems like every story involves death in some form or another, and as much as I understand that people do die, it's the ones that make the news that amaze me.

There are two types of death that make the news (around here) on a nightly basis:

• Fearful deaths - These are the car-bombings, house fires, train wreaks, murders...etc. The deaths that make you feel squeamish just imaging that it was you instead. (Like the thought of death isn't squeamish enough.
  
• WTF deaths: These are the ones where you go "What the F#%* were they thinking?". The people who drive their motorbikes into the side of a mountain at 120km/h, who rock climb at night without proper safety equipment, who think "out of bounds" at ski resorts means anyone but them. These deaths are ones that you can't imagine happening to you, because you like to think you'd never do something that stupid.

There are the odd deaths that fall somewhere in between these two categories - they are the ones that usually come right at the start of the news, because they'll grab your attention.

I think that I'll start watching something other than the news - give my mind a break. It's tough to absorb all that death night in and night out. I'm thinking Cartoon Network - at least there's no real death on that station. I've heard of a Coyote being crushed and then thrown off a cliff...and surviving.

Now that's newsworthy.



Later.

Happy Birthday, Canada.

Yes, Canada, even though I work until 9 o'clock tonight I will still be attending your "Birthday Party".

I'll be down at the waterside later on to watch the fireworks. Then I'll fight the miserable stampede of traffic to get home and put my kids to sleep.

I might even get some cake.

Have a good one, Canada, you don't look a day over 139.


Later.