A once-in-a-lifetime kind of evening…
We went out to see stand-up comedy, spur of the moment. The headliner was Marc Maron.
Interestingly, between the opening act and the headliner were two acts — where there usually is just one.
What made it a once-in-a-lifetime thing? Every act was strong. Honestly, there was no weak material. I’ve never had that happen before in my life.
Oh, and it’s too late. They’ve moved on.
Oh, and we got in under the wire. No, they didn’t sell out, no SRO here. I’m pointing out that in a few weeks I could have had to sit through Craig Shoemaker again.
Finally got an eye exam.
I am aging, but still under 40. That’s when I fully expect to go from “nearsighted” to “unable to read a menu in the same time zone”.
I’ve gone from -1.25/-1.5 to -1.5/-1.75, though for contacts, she prescribed both to be -1.5 — in anticipation of my turning 40. No signs of gloucoma, no astigmatism. They took baseline photos of my retina.
Everything was fine until she manually checked my peripheral vision with my pupils dilated. Then, we stopped being friends. For a few moments. I’ve got a followup visit on the 6th to see how the contacts she gave me are working out.
Lists of movies can be fun…
Strength and lonliness
Normally, weekend nights when we are home, we watch PBS Britcoms.
Tonight, PBS Mystery — a Brittish adaptation of Dracula — ran long. Instead of britcoms, we were presented with a half-hour animated musing on lonliness called “A Room Nearby“.
Instead of feeling for these people, I felt smug. They are talking about how lonliness is isolating, and dwelling on the negative aspects thereof, whereas by the time I was 14, I relished my lonliness, and used every moment of it that I could grab to forge my own identity.
C’mon, folks. Lonliness is not an affliction. It is not a curse. It is not neccisarily rejection by society. Even if it were, so what if it is? Take this time to forge yourself stronger. I cannot deny the ability of wallowing insofar as it can be a tool to eventually strenghten oneself, as much of the time that I now realize has made me stronger involved nothing more involved than myself and a Rubik’s Cube — or less (but we won’t go there today, WILL WE!?!), and faced with the almost archival fact that nearly 1/3 of gay teens attempt suicide (isn’t that number lower yet?), I can understand the need for such — well, what is it? A Short Film? A TV show? A mini-series? I must not be the target demgraphic. I’ve always had soneone to talk to, no matter how young or old.
I keep saying that “I am nobody’s demographic.” Whenever I say that, I feel that I’m being disingenuious. Then I think about it — Aside from “Dexter”, what have I found in popular culture to attract me? Certainly not the Police performing tonight. I have a Simpson-esque attitude toward almost all awards shows — or is that Allen-esque? No matter, because both those terms imply a marketability, in the sense that “Pythonesque” is now in the OED, which has allegedly disappointed John Clesse as much as I presume I must also be disappointed.
I’m still not going to hold back about my concerns about weakness, which I think if one of my greatest strenghts. Combine the best of New York City — that is, the directness; the best of San Francisco (ummmm, no comment), and the laid-backness of Austin, and you’ve pretty much got me.
And that all said, I still get both 80’s film references, and Pynchon references.
Oh, and I’m one of the best unix geeks you’ll ever meet. I’ve learned from the best of the best of the cream of the crop. I can make perl and sh sing.
And PBS is still playing “Keeping up Appearnaces”. Sigh.
Not me!
We stayed in a hotel in downtown Chicago. This place, which I will not name, was not only non-smoking, but smoker-hostile and smug about it.
So, late in the cold, windy weather, I bundle up and go out front to smoke before I go to bed. Two gentlemen are there already, one smoking, one standing behind the valet podium. The man behind the podium had something that caused him to spasm regularly — perhaps ALS, perhaps MS, I thought it unkind to ask. Soon, this person asked the one already smoking for a light. It took them several tries, including one discarded cigarette, but they got the job done.
Then the other smoker finished up and went in.
Then, a car pulled up.
The driver and his wife got out. She went inside, while he gathered up things to take in, all the while watching the two of us smoke. I was standing off to the side, while our spasming friend was back behind the valet podium.
The driver then came up to me, and whispered:
Are you the valet?
The only thing I could do was to shake my head no, and smile an almost-evil smile.
Busy day in the cold, cold north…
Grace and I have been busy.
She made snow angels.- We had a snowball fight.
- She went sledding.
It is now 14 below. We’re staying warm, watching the game, and eating chili.
Almost another scooby movie…
We took Grace to see Happy Feet, and there were previews and commercials.
Of course, there was the clip about buying snacks from the concession stand, the only thing was this one was themed to look like Harry Potter. That’s when it occured to me, so I leaned to Cy and said:
Hey! It’s Harry Pot-head, and he has the munchies!
And that’s what makes it almost like Shaggy and Scooby.
I guess I *am* a geek…
Those Italian deer…
So, Grace had a birthday. She got lots of presents, including Sly Cooper 3 for her PS2.
Then, Cy had his Big Band thing again this year. Grace and I went to eat first, then we all went to eat afterwards, at the Y Bar and Grill.
Since G and I had already eaten, we only got some appetizers — some cheese bread, and some venison skewers. As long as the venison had not been in the spicy sauce they served it with, she loved it. We talked about how venison was deer meat, and she ate more still…
Then, the next day, she and Cy were playing Sly3. Where is Sly, in the world? Why, Venice, of course! So Grace demonstrated her mastery of word roots by asking
Is Sly inside a deer?
Yes, I’m bragging.
Not mine, but I like it…
From Neil Steinberg’s op-ed in the Chicago Sun-Times:
A driver is stuck in a traffic jam on the interstate. Nothing is moving.
Suddenly a man walks over. The driver rolls down his window and asks: ‘‘What’s going on?’’
‘‘Terrorists down the road have kidnapped George W. Bush and
Dick Cheney. They’re asking for a $100 million ransom. Otherwise
they’re going to douse them with gasoline and set them on fire. We’re
going from car to car, taking up a collection.’’The driver asks, ‘‘How much is everyone giving, on average?’’
‘‘Most people are giving about a gallon.’’
Musical puns
So, we’re driving home after desert last night, and Grace asks for “Kids music” (preset 4 on the satelite radio).
A song called “Lonely Broccoli” comes on, in a 1950’s style.
I couldn’t decide if it was “broc-a-billy” or “do-wok”.
Now, my revenge is complete.
So, Cy and I played a full 18 holes together today.
Having never played the back 9 before, we were both pretty amazed when I parred hole 10.
And, to make my revenge complete, it needs to be noted that I outdrove him on 15 of the 18 holes.
Oh, and we took Grace for a walk to feed the ducks popcorn!
Finally, I got to play craps, and we left the table up $450.
Panic, then an interesting round…and as good a happy ending as one could expect!
Why did we go to the mountains for spring break? To let Grace play in the snow!
So, this morning, we joined up with Cy’s sister’s family, and caravanned mostly up the mountain.
Several miles into the 12-mile trip up, Cy started feeling odd. He had just taken his blood pressure medication, so I told him to pull over and let me do the driving. So, off we start again, with me at the wheel. It’s a new car — this is perhaps the fifth time I’ve ever driven it. Well, let’s make sure it’s known that it is a truck. The two-lane road — actually, more like one and a half lanes — has no guardrail. It’s a mountain, so of course the road twists and turns, often sharply. I’m trying to stay as far from the edge as I can, but there is traffic going down.
That’s when I announce, as casually as I can:
I’m having a panic attack.
Cy’s response?
No, you’re not.
Oh, yeah. Let’s have an argument now! Have you ever tried to shut a stupid fscker up? And no matter how many times I told him to shut up, he just had to have the last word.
Finally, we got to another stopping point. Out we go, and Grace throws some snowballs at Cy while I calm down. We give Cy’s sister, who had stopped to let us catch up, the sleds (prompting the heartbreaking question “Why are you giving aunt Judy my sleds?”) and they continue on their way.
We, meanwhile, let G play for a few moments before we turn around. Let’s face it — we couldn’t go on.
Later that afternoon, Cy went to play golf. I thought it was too cold — and it was, when he started. He played the back nine, but I joined him for the front nine.I started out with 3 balls, marked “Top-Flite 3”. I ended with 3 balls, marked “Top-Flite 3”. I played nine holes without losing a single ball.
And, of course, my revenge is not complete, despite mentioning that Cy lost one on the front nine today…
And, when Judy got back, she told us it was too cold and windy to let the kids play in the snow.Yay! We did the right thing!
And the kicker is: she wasn’t even vaguely overweight!
So, we went golfing today. Actually, I caught up with Cy on the 10th hole, where we had to play from the red tees, because a wedding was taking place on the gold tee box there. Nice set-up.
Then, we play the back nine, and as we’re driving back to the car from the 18th hole, we pass the bride, waiting in the passenger seat of another golf cart.
In my mind, I immediately saw that the driver was the person who was going to give her away, and he was going to drive her up the aisle in the cart. She would get out, and the rigamarole about “Who gives this woman…” “…I do” would be followed by the protracted beeeeeeeeeeep as he put the cart into reverse and backed up to his seat.
I know I’d love for that to happen at my wedding!