The happiest I've ever been on a school morning -- mornings that are normally filled with only dread and coffee -- was yesterday when I found this:
Garfield Minus Garfield
I'm at a loss for words to describe it, so just go. Visit. Please.
And then visit this:
Lasagna Cat on YouTube
Again, no words for it. Just joy.
Only my brothers will appreciate the following video, but I've watched it over and over again, each time feeling more like it's the greatest creation in the history of both video games and videos:
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Learning to love what ya got.
Well, not what we got. What celebrities got. And we're not going to have time tonight to discuss everything, or to put any more words in italics. So no discussion of this useless woman, despite how much she might fit the conversation, or of Miley Cyrus, who unfortunately did show up to the Oscars still looking pretty much like this. (Not sure how that fits the discussion, but I can't get over how Miley Cyrus looks in every photo.) No discussion of how Daniel Day-Lewis has the best facial structure in the world, as well as the worst taste in clothing, although his pictures on Getty Images (that's for the Oscars) are as awesome as always.
We really just have time for two things: Viggo Mortensen's beard and Christina Aguilera's breasts.
First, the beard, from tonight's Oscars:
That is the hottest beard a man has ever grown. It just might be. It's nearly flawless. Look at it again:
It has no flaws. And the amazing thing is that when he played the greatest character in the history of the world -- not in literature, because it was literally the history of this world -- he didn't grow this. He could have grown this beard. Instead, he grew this:
Good thing Peter Jackson didn't ruin anything else about the character, huh? Ha ha ha *cough* *choke* *stab*
Next, breasts! See, Christina Aguilera had a baby recently. It doesn't matter anymore what she used to look like, or even that she was pretty chesty as a pregnant woman, because now she looks like this:
And if you don't have time to watch the whole thing, there are pictures all over the Internet right now, because no one can believe she pulled those out:
It is not physically possible for a woman to be that petite -- and she is roughly four feet tall -- and have breasts that engorged. ("Engorged" is Catherine's word, so it's okay. She says, "They look like they're about to explode.")
So the moral here? Marcus wishes he had that beard and Catherine wishes she had those breasts so very badly that it hurts.
We really just have time for two things: Viggo Mortensen's beard and Christina Aguilera's breasts.
First, the beard, from tonight's Oscars:
That is the hottest beard a man has ever grown. It just might be. It's nearly flawless. Look at it again:
It has no flaws. And the amazing thing is that when he played the greatest character in the history of the world -- not in literature, because it was literally the history of this world -- he didn't grow this. He could have grown this beard. Instead, he grew this:
Good thing Peter Jackson didn't ruin anything else about the character, huh? Ha ha ha *cough* *choke* *stab*
Next, breasts! See, Christina Aguilera had a baby recently. It doesn't matter anymore what she used to look like, or even that she was pretty chesty as a pregnant woman, because now she looks like this:
And if you don't have time to watch the whole thing, there are pictures all over the Internet right now, because no one can believe she pulled those out:
It is not physically possible for a woman to be that petite -- and she is roughly four feet tall -- and have breasts that engorged. ("Engorged" is Catherine's word, so it's okay. She says, "They look like they're about to explode.")
So the moral here? Marcus wishes he had that beard and Catherine wishes she had those breasts so very badly that it hurts.
If you asked me to.
Last night, because my wife adorably loves all things James Bond, we watched Timothy Dalton in A License to Kill. It is a very long movie that boasted some of the very best acting I have ever seen, if "very best" means VERY, VERY BEST. I wish that I had ever had a girl in love with me to the point where right when she sees me making out with another girl at the party we went to, she runs away crying and hugs herself all alone, and then she's Carey Lowell, and then we jump in the water and make out, because she's already over the crying part.
Oh, and the opening credits to this James Bond movie? See if you can find the motif the director employs, and also notice that this was PROFORMED by Gladys Knight, you adorable Internet kids:
Hint: The motif is nipples.
Anyway, this is all by way of preamble. You see, the movies ends with another hit song, this one by Patti LaBelle. It's called, "If You Asked Me To," and Catherine let me know immediately, as it began to play, that it was covered by Celine Dion. We found the Celine Dion cover on YouTube, watched it, and went to bed.
This morning, I woke up with "If You Asked Me To" playing in my head. It played through breakfast. It played through the first Scrabble game of the day. It is playing right now. And I have been singing it the entire time.
I tried to exorcise it by watching the video again:
I don't even know if I like the song...
PS: Maybe you've never known about a choice in hair style. But Patti LaBelle has.
Oh, and the opening credits to this James Bond movie? See if you can find the motif the director employs, and also notice that this was PROFORMED by Gladys Knight, you adorable Internet kids:
Hint: The motif is nipples.
Anyway, this is all by way of preamble. You see, the movies ends with another hit song, this one by Patti LaBelle. It's called, "If You Asked Me To," and Catherine let me know immediately, as it began to play, that it was covered by Celine Dion. We found the Celine Dion cover on YouTube, watched it, and went to bed.
This morning, I woke up with "If You Asked Me To" playing in my head. It played through breakfast. It played through the first Scrabble game of the day. It is playing right now. And I have been singing it the entire time.
I tried to exorcise it by watching the video again:
I don't even know if I like the song...
PS: Maybe you've never known about a choice in hair style. But Patti LaBelle has.
Friday, February 22, 2008
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Happy Valentine's Day!
We spent our evening watching Once, which is beautiful, and trying to make Marcus feel less like he's going to get sick than he currently does. Because every day in teaching is Valentine's Day, only instead of chocolate, the students give disease.
He's also writing this, which means he's officially talking about himself in the third person.
This is probably our favorite song from the film (although the clips are cut from various places in the story):
It's only 90 minutes long, so it's worth the time. It sat here in our apartment, on loan from NetFlix, for a good three weeks, but tonight it won out over Resident Evil: Extinction.
We also found this list of the top fictional couples of all time (all on one page here). It could have been wrong, like almost every list ever made -- and, oh, I still have a special place in my heart for the Wizard list of top cartoons that put Neon Genesis Evangelion at something like number 80 -- but instead it is awesome.
It's got Midnighter and Apollo! Buffy and Angel, too. And even Gaius and Number 6 from Battlestar Galactica. So while Catherine has no experience with those three things, Marcus is thrilled. And back to the third person.
No, really, about the list: If they're going to include truths like that, it's okay if they also include serial brain-eater and horse-face Carrie Bradshaw and Detective Nolan from Law & Order. Plus, they have Ron and Hermione! (Wait -- Catherine hasn't read the last three of those books, either.)
Another secret you might glean from the list is that if you haven't seen Brokeback Mountain, you need to go ahead and rectify that one. We resisted it for a long time, but it's actually as good as advertised. Mostly for Heath Ledger, who is devoid of emotion for the entire movie. It's like watching a cardboard cutout for two hours. Literally no emotions.
Anyway, here was my plan -- Marcus' plan? I can't remember how I was writing this -- for when Brokeback Mountain was still in theaters. (It didn't work that well when I was watching it with just Catherine, but I still gave it the ol' college try.) I figured on waiting through the whole movie, which is replete with sex and intimacy and such things, and then at the very end, when there's one final, touching moment, standing up and yelling, "Wait, are them queers?" while pointing at the screen in horror. Also in a Southern accent, inexplicably.
On that note, a happy Valentine's Day to everybody!
He's also writing this, which means he's officially talking about himself in the third person.
This is probably our favorite song from the film (although the clips are cut from various places in the story):
It's only 90 minutes long, so it's worth the time. It sat here in our apartment, on loan from NetFlix, for a good three weeks, but tonight it won out over Resident Evil: Extinction.
We also found this list of the top fictional couples of all time (all on one page here). It could have been wrong, like almost every list ever made -- and, oh, I still have a special place in my heart for the Wizard list of top cartoons that put Neon Genesis Evangelion at something like number 80 -- but instead it is awesome.
It's got Midnighter and Apollo! Buffy and Angel, too. And even Gaius and Number 6 from Battlestar Galactica. So while Catherine has no experience with those three things, Marcus is thrilled. And back to the third person.
No, really, about the list: If they're going to include truths like that, it's okay if they also include serial brain-eater and horse-face Carrie Bradshaw and Detective Nolan from Law & Order. Plus, they have Ron and Hermione! (Wait -- Catherine hasn't read the last three of those books, either.)
Another secret you might glean from the list is that if you haven't seen Brokeback Mountain, you need to go ahead and rectify that one. We resisted it for a long time, but it's actually as good as advertised. Mostly for Heath Ledger, who is devoid of emotion for the entire movie. It's like watching a cardboard cutout for two hours. Literally no emotions.
Anyway, here was my plan -- Marcus' plan? I can't remember how I was writing this -- for when Brokeback Mountain was still in theaters. (It didn't work that well when I was watching it with just Catherine, but I still gave it the ol' college try.) I figured on waiting through the whole movie, which is replete with sex and intimacy and such things, and then at the very end, when there's one final, touching moment, standing up and yelling, "Wait, are them queers?" while pointing at the screen in horror. Also in a Southern accent, inexplicably.
On that note, a happy Valentine's Day to everybody!
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Freezie KO.
I could post these videos all day. No, really -- they all make me happy.
Once upon a time I recorded about four hours of myself playing Mortal Kombat 2 for SNES -- mostly a series of truly awesomely inept attempts to do fatalities -- and then sent it to my big brother, who needed to see it. (He didn't have the game OR a way to see me perform all the fatalities, because he was in college.) And that's what they call brotherly love.
The secret is that watching video games is awesome. And YouTube knows it:
These games blew my mind, once upon a time. I mean right now.
But... if we're going to talk about a time that might have been had watching video games, here's all I can offer:
Memories.
Once upon a time I recorded about four hours of myself playing Mortal Kombat 2 for SNES -- mostly a series of truly awesomely inept attempts to do fatalities -- and then sent it to my big brother, who needed to see it. (He didn't have the game OR a way to see me perform all the fatalities, because he was in college.) And that's what they call brotherly love.
The secret is that watching video games is awesome. And YouTube knows it:
These games blew my mind, once upon a time. I mean right now.
But... if we're going to talk about a time that might have been had watching video games, here's all I can offer:
Memories.
In the rain or in the snow!
If I ever got a rap concert -- you know, one where I was doing the rapping -- I would just freestyle like Parappa in this video (don't worry, you just have to wait a few moments to get to it, and those moments will be the most awesome moments of your life):
I never got Cool on that last stage, but I could get it on this one and on the one below, which is making me so nostalgic:
And you were right, if you thought that somebody posted a video making Parappa say, "MIX the crack." Yep. Done that. Meant it.
What's the best, though?
What do you guys know about Justin and Charlotte wrecking that game?
I never got Cool on that last stage, but I could get it on this one and on the one below, which is making me so nostalgic:
And you were right, if you thought that somebody posted a video making Parappa say, "MIX the crack." Yep. Done that. Meant it.
What's the best, though?
What do you guys know about Justin and Charlotte wrecking that game?
All right; we're here, just sitting in the car.
I love the word catawampus. It's terrific that Blogger has no idea what to do with it, but even Dictionary is quick to note that the word is "chiefly Midland and Southern U.S." in origin and usage. Which means the fact that I keep forgetting to introduce into my classrooms, which are predominantly haunted by Yankees, is sort of a missed chance. Kind of like a road less traveled by.
(My favorite idiosyncratic miscommunication in class is my saying, "Okay, put that work up," and the kids interpreting that not as "away" but as "into the air." Oh, Northerners. Just you wait till the South rises again.)
On my way home -- speaking of school and roads -- the sky opened up a nice can of near-death on me. The snow/slush/ice mixture (which was truly expert in its concoction, I have to say) caused traffic mostly to crawl along at twenty miles an hour. Toward home, in the neighboring bit of local highway, the line of cars was screaming along at about five miles an hour.
And that's the speed of near-death!
See, I panic in snow. Or ice. Or rain. Any precipitation makes me kind of freak out. As I passed the grocery store around here, I was crawling at perhaps five miles an hour, and I was also perhaps five car lengths behind the car in front of me. Which, as it turns out, is just enough space to avoid death (or score near-death, as it were).
I tried to brake -- I think that's what I'm supposed to do at a red light -- and my car did not agree with that decision. I pumped the brake, slowly lowered the brake, screamed, cried, closed my eyes... and the car just didn't stop. So I went onto the sidewalk, literally caused a pedestrian to move out of my way (he didn't jump -- I was moving too slowly), ran a red light, and continued on, catawampus as anything (see, there it is!) through the busy intersection.
If I hadn't gone to a happy place in my panic, and if I had been going a bit faster, it might have been awesome. Instead, it was not awesome.
And that's why my wife is being picked up at the train station by a cab and not her loving husband. What a prince she married! What a rose garden she's been given!
More importantly:
I definitely watched all of this. All the way through.
(My favorite idiosyncratic miscommunication in class is my saying, "Okay, put that work up," and the kids interpreting that not as "away" but as "into the air." Oh, Northerners. Just you wait till the South rises again.)
On my way home -- speaking of school and roads -- the sky opened up a nice can of near-death on me. The snow/slush/ice mixture (which was truly expert in its concoction, I have to say) caused traffic mostly to crawl along at twenty miles an hour. Toward home, in the neighboring bit of local highway, the line of cars was screaming along at about five miles an hour.
And that's the speed of near-death!
See, I panic in snow. Or ice. Or rain. Any precipitation makes me kind of freak out. As I passed the grocery store around here, I was crawling at perhaps five miles an hour, and I was also perhaps five car lengths behind the car in front of me. Which, as it turns out, is just enough space to avoid death (or score near-death, as it were).
I tried to brake -- I think that's what I'm supposed to do at a red light -- and my car did not agree with that decision. I pumped the brake, slowly lowered the brake, screamed, cried, closed my eyes... and the car just didn't stop. So I went onto the sidewalk, literally caused a pedestrian to move out of my way (he didn't jump -- I was moving too slowly), ran a red light, and continued on, catawampus as anything (see, there it is!) through the busy intersection.
If I hadn't gone to a happy place in my panic, and if I had been going a bit faster, it might have been awesome. Instead, it was not awesome.
And that's why my wife is being picked up at the train station by a cab and not her loving husband. What a prince she married! What a rose garden she's been given!
More importantly:
I definitely watched all of this. All the way through.
Saturday, February 9, 2008
Your lips are venomous poison.
When we got married, I had this plan to play the following song on the piano and sing the lyrics to my new wife. At the very least, I wanted to read the lyrics as my wedding vows. That got axed, of course, but we just watched the video for the first time together.
Here it is.
I love this song, and I am absolutely not kidding. The video is only okay -- until the very end. Around the 4:07 mark (after Alice Cooper attacks that chair like he hates it), there's a reveal worthy of the movie Saw, only this one makes perfect sense. And Alice Cooper with the poison vial. And the last shot of some kind of edifice.
I love you, Gerald Cooperberg.
Here it is.
I love this song, and I am absolutely not kidding. The video is only okay -- until the very end. Around the 4:07 mark (after Alice Cooper attacks that chair like he hates it), there's a reveal worthy of the movie Saw, only this one makes perfect sense. And Alice Cooper with the poison vial. And the last shot of some kind of edifice.
I love you, Gerald Cooperberg.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Look at the big actor on the stage!
We can give Ewan McGregor his due, but the real husband's in the next clip here. And what he's talking about is a little something called acting:
Justin might want to take some notes.
It's too bad Extras is a terrible show, though. How about some Patrick Stewart, while we're at it?
Justin might want to take some notes.
It's too bad Extras is a terrible show, though. How about some Patrick Stewart, while we're at it?
Sunday, February 3, 2008
What is with the face-kicking recently?
Tonight, while Marcus was watching the Superbowl streaming on our computer in the back, I had to decide what I was going to do with three hours or so that I perhaps would not do with him around. I didn't have any homework, but I couldn't watch Numb3rs or South Park like I would normally do (as that would be all together too much for our internet connection). So, while meandering around the front room of our apartment, I ended up in front of our movie collection. Glancing through, I spotted Moulin Rouge, which, for no adequate reason, I had not yet seen in its entirety.
Now, Ewan McGregor has always been my ultimate man, like Kate Winslet is my ultimate woman. Seeing him in Star Wars I-III
and Big Fish
was enough for me to want to kiss him on the mouth. His smile makes me melt inside.
So. I watched Moulin Rouge. There was no way that I could have prepared myself for the the gut-punch that I received when he smiles after singing the line "The hills are alive with the sound of music" for the first time. There was no way for me to know the depths to which my heart could sink when he wails in despair as Satine dies. [I did not believe many of Nicole Kidman's lines or feelings. But I believed every single one of Ewan's. He is the only reason this movie was fantastic. Him and the visuals. There were some feelings there as well.]
But. There are no possible words for me to express my intense joy as I watched Ewan sing (not just heard him sing) for the first time. I couldn't wipe an awe-stricken, child-like, puppy-love smile off of my face.
Things are just so magical lately. I am loving it.
Now, Ewan McGregor has always been my ultimate man, like Kate Winslet is my ultimate woman. Seeing him in Star Wars I-III
and Big Fish
was enough for me to want to kiss him on the mouth. His smile makes me melt inside.
So. I watched Moulin Rouge. There was no way that I could have prepared myself for the the gut-punch that I received when he smiles after singing the line "The hills are alive with the sound of music" for the first time. There was no way for me to know the depths to which my heart could sink when he wails in despair as Satine dies. [I did not believe many of Nicole Kidman's lines or feelings. But I believed every single one of Ewan's. He is the only reason this movie was fantastic. Him and the visuals. There were some feelings there as well.]
But. There are no possible words for me to express my intense joy as I watched Ewan sing (not just heard him sing) for the first time. I couldn't wipe an awe-stricken, child-like, puppy-love smile off of my face.
Things are just so magical lately. I am loving it.
Saturday, February 2, 2008
An arm sag.
How am I spending the time before Nicole comes over to visit? Making anagrams.
First and last names only, a definition, and then the best picture from the first page of Google images for the anagram:
My best one's mace usurer, which I like to imagine means I lend mace (maybe the kind with this in it) at an exorbitant interest rate. Or do I spray people in the face and then take their money?
Mace usurer
My wife is hatched ironware. Metalworks from eggs? Wikipedia thinks I mean "ironmonger,"but I don't. Ironmonger was the last name of a girl on whom I had a wicked crush at age 16, leading to some of the more embarrassing moments of inept wooing I've ever produced (which is saying an awful, awful lot).
Hatched ironware
My big brother's full name produces eerily rebel nuke, which I guess is a nuclear weapon that is rebellious in an eerie way.
Eerily rebel nuke
My sister yields creature hotel. That is easily the best one yet and needs no explanation.
Creature hotel
My little brother gets injure suet, so he hurts animal fat. That works pretty well.
Injure suet
And since she's going to be here in a few minutes, assuming I finish this so we can go to the train station, Nicole gets beeline crock. Not sure what that means, but Google says:
Beeline crock
First and last names only, a definition, and then the best picture from the first page of Google images for the anagram:
My best one's mace usurer, which I like to imagine means I lend mace (maybe the kind with this in it) at an exorbitant interest rate. Or do I spray people in the face and then take their money?
Mace usurer
My wife is hatched ironware. Metalworks from eggs? Wikipedia thinks I mean "ironmonger,"but I don't. Ironmonger was the last name of a girl on whom I had a wicked crush at age 16, leading to some of the more embarrassing moments of inept wooing I've ever produced (which is saying an awful, awful lot).
Hatched ironware
My big brother's full name produces eerily rebel nuke, which I guess is a nuclear weapon that is rebellious in an eerie way.
Eerily rebel nuke
My sister yields creature hotel. That is easily the best one yet and needs no explanation.
Creature hotel
My little brother gets injure suet, so he hurts animal fat. That works pretty well.
Injure suet
And since she's going to be here in a few minutes, assuming I finish this so we can go to the train station, Nicole gets beeline crock. Not sure what that means, but Google says:
Beeline crock
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)