I love the way the politi-tainment community has gone into free-fall.
First there was the thing where Bill O’Reilly said something nice about Michelle Obama as a First Lady and got pasted by a conservative commentator for being a suck up. Then O’Reilly fired back that the woman laying into him was a lock-step, radical conservative automaton and the whole reason that the Republican party was going to Las Vegas in a hand basket (I may be paraphrasing there).
Then there was the near love-in between Jon Stewart and O’Reilly earlier this week. Okay, it wasn’t like Stewart frenched Glenn Beck or anything (which I think comes just before the opening of the 7th Seal in the Book of Revelation). But it was almost like they kinda liked each other or something. Weird.
And before I could wrap my brain around that bit of surreal life, then Sarah Palin, Rahm Emmanuel and Rush Limbaugh get into a three-way. And Limbaugh is defending Rahm Emmanuel! What the fuqua, people?
I don’t know. Maybe it is the Apocalypse. Maybe Jon Stewart is putting on a good coat of ChapStick right now. To quote Peter Venkman: “Human sacrifice, dogs and cats living together... mass hysteria!”
Friday, February 5, 2010
Down in Poo-Poo Park
Do you want to know why we don’t have nice things in Dallas? This is why.
In December, they opened a lovely new park near my office in downtown. And it’s truly lovely, in many ways. There are green spaces, reclaimed art decorations, natural materials, solar powered lights, student friendly study spaces, a kids entertainment area and, at some point, a café. Like a real city and everything. Oh, and a doggy play area.
You see where I’m going with this? I can tell you do.
Less than two months in, and the doggy play area is covered in doggy crap. Right in front of the sign that asks that you pretty please clean up after your own animal, which has a convenient, yet obviously not convenient enough, receptacle for little love muffins from dear poochy.
I love dogs. You love dogs. Actually, I only like dogs. But really, I get that other people LOVE their dogs. But the stuff that you feed your dog doesn’t smell all that good before they eat it. It does not improve after a trip through the dark recesses of their digestive tracks. And don’t you think that you, who love your animals, are better equipped to pick up the damn dog crap than I who only just likes the beasts?
So, slowly but surely, the puppy tootsie rolls are piling up in the park that belongs to all of us. Unsightly on a cold day. Not improved with the warm, damp days of spring. And just as surely, the deposits are making their way into the pedestrian areas. Thanks. Really. We appreciate your sharing.
As I say, I only like dogs. I don’t love one enough to pick up doggy poop. My solution is to NOT OWN A DOG. There are other ways to go about it though. Pooper scoopers of every size, shape and price range. (And frankly, if you own a dog, and live in downtown close enough to walk in that park, price is obviously not a factor for you.) Sure it’s gross. But that’s not my problem. But your dog’s crap on the sidewalk, and wafting through the air, is my problem. And it shouldn’t be.
Actually, it’s everybody’s problem. Because in order for Dallas to be a nice place to live, we need places like this park that add life and breath to our common spaces. Places to chill out. Places to play Frisbee. Places to walk off a bad meeting. But if the city can point to this example, “Well, we tried to make a nice park, but you let your dog crap all over it”, then even our tiniest steps towards a warm and inviting city will be crushed.
You live in a urban area and don't have a yard. Cool. Happy to share the park. Love to see you and your dog. You're adorable, really. But be a responsible pet owner, you twit. Pick up the damn dog shit. You’re going to ruin it for everybody.
In December, they opened a lovely new park near my office in downtown. And it’s truly lovely, in many ways. There are green spaces, reclaimed art decorations, natural materials, solar powered lights, student friendly study spaces, a kids entertainment area and, at some point, a café. Like a real city and everything. Oh, and a doggy play area.
You see where I’m going with this? I can tell you do.
Less than two months in, and the doggy play area is covered in doggy crap. Right in front of the sign that asks that you pretty please clean up after your own animal, which has a convenient, yet obviously not convenient enough, receptacle for little love muffins from dear poochy.
I love dogs. You love dogs. Actually, I only like dogs. But really, I get that other people LOVE their dogs. But the stuff that you feed your dog doesn’t smell all that good before they eat it. It does not improve after a trip through the dark recesses of their digestive tracks. And don’t you think that you, who love your animals, are better equipped to pick up the damn dog crap than I who only just likes the beasts?
So, slowly but surely, the puppy tootsie rolls are piling up in the park that belongs to all of us. Unsightly on a cold day. Not improved with the warm, damp days of spring. And just as surely, the deposits are making their way into the pedestrian areas. Thanks. Really. We appreciate your sharing.
As I say, I only like dogs. I don’t love one enough to pick up doggy poop. My solution is to NOT OWN A DOG. There are other ways to go about it though. Pooper scoopers of every size, shape and price range. (And frankly, if you own a dog, and live in downtown close enough to walk in that park, price is obviously not a factor for you.) Sure it’s gross. But that’s not my problem. But your dog’s crap on the sidewalk, and wafting through the air, is my problem. And it shouldn’t be.
Actually, it’s everybody’s problem. Because in order for Dallas to be a nice place to live, we need places like this park that add life and breath to our common spaces. Places to chill out. Places to play Frisbee. Places to walk off a bad meeting. But if the city can point to this example, “Well, we tried to make a nice park, but you let your dog crap all over it”, then even our tiniest steps towards a warm and inviting city will be crushed.
You live in a urban area and don't have a yard. Cool. Happy to share the park. Love to see you and your dog. You're adorable, really. But be a responsible pet owner, you twit. Pick up the damn dog shit. You’re going to ruin it for everybody.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
wobble wobble wobble
Well, I thought I’d share with you something that I’ve discovered.
I was really dissatisfied with my office chair. The dang thing is (like most real office chairs) expensive as hell, relatively cool looking due to webbing and swoopy shape, and only slightly more comfortable than sitting in an iron maiden (bogus, Ted). My hips were killing me. I had to add extra padding to get any back support. And, annoying at least to me, the seat doesn’t tilt forward or backward to relieve pressure on your hips and thighs. Not a pleasant place to spend 8+ hours a day.
I was looking for alternatives. Given the previously noted high price of office chairs, and the corporate need for conformity, I wasn’t likely to get away with just buying my own and carting it to the office. So I was going to have to think outside the box. I started thinking about those balance balls. I had heard they were good for posture and concentration (some kinesthetic thing they use for kids with ADD), both things I could stand improving. But after reading reviews on Amazon, I figured out that in an actual office setting (moving from keyboard to phone to file drawer, getting up frequently, long stretched of not getting up frequently), the ball was not optimal. Plus, anything different is a cause for comment in an office. I just don’t need that action.
But while I was looking around, I discovered the balance training disc. It’s used for a lot of exercises. But what I was interested in was that you can put it in your regular chair to give you a balance ball lite experience. The one I got was $17 and included the pump, and had super saver shipping available.
So far I’m just pretty darned happy with what I’m calling my wobble seat. It looks like a giant, blue whoopee cushion. And basically, it can help you to force yourself to sit straighter. And it works your abs in the process. Yes, I said it. My abs are definitely tighter. If it’s possible to exercise while sitting on your ass (a personal dream of mine), then this is it. Okay, I’m not some Women’s Health magazine, washboard tummied, cover model. But things have definitely firmed up. And I’m thinking as a result, I’ve taken some stress off my back because my stomach muscles are taking more of the load. Always a good thing.
It takes some getting used to. My butt would get sore after a few hours on the wobble seat for the first few weeks. But now I use it all day most work days without even thinking about it. And if you get one, make sure you get one that has the hedgehog looking nubbly side. It looks a little like you’re getting a little too friendly with your cushion. But I’ve discovered that it is much less squeaky than the smooth side. If you know what I mean (see whoopee cushion comment . . .).
I was really dissatisfied with my office chair. The dang thing is (like most real office chairs) expensive as hell, relatively cool looking due to webbing and swoopy shape, and only slightly more comfortable than sitting in an iron maiden (bogus, Ted). My hips were killing me. I had to add extra padding to get any back support. And, annoying at least to me, the seat doesn’t tilt forward or backward to relieve pressure on your hips and thighs. Not a pleasant place to spend 8+ hours a day.
I was looking for alternatives. Given the previously noted high price of office chairs, and the corporate need for conformity, I wasn’t likely to get away with just buying my own and carting it to the office. So I was going to have to think outside the box. I started thinking about those balance balls. I had heard they were good for posture and concentration (some kinesthetic thing they use for kids with ADD), both things I could stand improving. But after reading reviews on Amazon, I figured out that in an actual office setting (moving from keyboard to phone to file drawer, getting up frequently, long stretched of not getting up frequently), the ball was not optimal. Plus, anything different is a cause for comment in an office. I just don’t need that action.
But while I was looking around, I discovered the balance training disc. It’s used for a lot of exercises. But what I was interested in was that you can put it in your regular chair to give you a balance ball lite experience. The one I got was $17 and included the pump, and had super saver shipping available.
So far I’m just pretty darned happy with what I’m calling my wobble seat. It looks like a giant, blue whoopee cushion. And basically, it can help you to force yourself to sit straighter. And it works your abs in the process. Yes, I said it. My abs are definitely tighter. If it’s possible to exercise while sitting on your ass (a personal dream of mine), then this is it. Okay, I’m not some Women’s Health magazine, washboard tummied, cover model. But things have definitely firmed up. And I’m thinking as a result, I’ve taken some stress off my back because my stomach muscles are taking more of the load. Always a good thing.
It takes some getting used to. My butt would get sore after a few hours on the wobble seat for the first few weeks. But now I use it all day most work days without even thinking about it. And if you get one, make sure you get one that has the hedgehog looking nubbly side. It looks a little like you’re getting a little too friendly with your cushion. But I’ve discovered that it is much less squeaky than the smooth side. If you know what I mean (see whoopee cushion comment . . .).
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Bringing a whole new meaning to the word "ripped"
http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/the_big_picture/2010/02/hollywood-arrest-files-rip-torn-breaks-the-bank.html
Okay, this story about Rip Torn is just funny. Not that alcoholism is funny. Torn’s a drunk. But he’s a colorful drunk. And really, somebody should be finding his antics funny because I’m sure his nearest and dearest, including police departments across New England, are failing to see the humor at this point.
But I’ve gotta say, it’s time for old Rip to look into a sober companion. Not necessarily somebody who keeps him on the straight and narrow after he’s gotten sober. Whether he decides to dry out is a personal decision. But if he doesn’t decide to start that journey of a thousand miles that begins with twelve steps, he really needs somebody who will stay sober with him while he gets drunk. Cause, obviously, he doesn’t make good decisions while he’s plastered. Well, who does? But he really seems to be hovering down there at the low end of the bell curve. A bank? Really? You didn’t think a local rap was good enough? You had to go federal?
He doesn’t need a drinking buddy, he needs a non-drinking buddy who will keep an eagle eye on him while he’s drinking. Somebody who will take the car keys, hide the loaded guns, and at least comb his hair before his next mug shot. Sheesh.
Okay, this story about Rip Torn is just funny. Not that alcoholism is funny. Torn’s a drunk. But he’s a colorful drunk. And really, somebody should be finding his antics funny because I’m sure his nearest and dearest, including police departments across New England, are failing to see the humor at this point.
But I’ve gotta say, it’s time for old Rip to look into a sober companion. Not necessarily somebody who keeps him on the straight and narrow after he’s gotten sober. Whether he decides to dry out is a personal decision. But if he doesn’t decide to start that journey of a thousand miles that begins with twelve steps, he really needs somebody who will stay sober with him while he gets drunk. Cause, obviously, he doesn’t make good decisions while he’s plastered. Well, who does? But he really seems to be hovering down there at the low end of the bell curve. A bank? Really? You didn’t think a local rap was good enough? You had to go federal?
He doesn’t need a drinking buddy, he needs a non-drinking buddy who will keep an eagle eye on him while he’s drinking. Somebody who will take the car keys, hide the loaded guns, and at least comb his hair before his next mug shot. Sheesh.
Flakey First Impressions
I’ve noticed that there are things where my perception and the reality are soooo far off. And even though I’m totally aware of the reality, the first impression sticks, and I can’t shake it. Completely in spite of any evidence to the contrary, I operate under that initial assumption.
For instance, the first right ups I saw for Madeleine Peyroux made her sound like the second coming of Peggy Lee. I was totally stoked. Bought the CD. Felt completely betrayed. Blech. She’s like a dime store Norah Jones, with Diana Krall pretensions. Sings everything in the key of G (ee, I find your voice really annoying). But for some reason, I remember the Peggy Lee bit, and forget the G part. So I’ll tune into some music show on purpose because I see her name, or buy some song off of iTunes, and be all excited. Whooo, this’ll be great! Then it’s not. And I remember. Oh, right. Can’t stand her. Try to remember that next time, Julie.
On the other end of the spectrum is Dax Shepherd. I think I hate him. I avoid movies that he’s in. Maybe it’s the Punked association. Or maybe he just looks like someone who is in bad movies. Then when I actually accidentally see something he’s done, it’s like, “Oh, he’s not half as stupid as he looks.” In fact, he was the only one who made Employee of the Month remotely bearable. And he was surprisingly effective in a sort of butch part in Zathura. I know these facts to be true. But still, if I saw him on a cast list of a movie today, I can’t guarantee that I wouldn’t automatically strike it off my list. I’ve cut him far less slack than Keanu Reeves. And lord know that guy owes me a ton of cash.
Obviously, I’ve got a glitch in my software. Something in the MEDb (Mental Entertainment Database). Though obviously, I’m not always wrong. Anything with Kim Cattrall will definitely suck. Or she will be the sucky link in an otherwise entertaining chain.
For instance, the first right ups I saw for Madeleine Peyroux made her sound like the second coming of Peggy Lee. I was totally stoked. Bought the CD. Felt completely betrayed. Blech. She’s like a dime store Norah Jones, with Diana Krall pretensions. Sings everything in the key of G (ee, I find your voice really annoying). But for some reason, I remember the Peggy Lee bit, and forget the G part. So I’ll tune into some music show on purpose because I see her name, or buy some song off of iTunes, and be all excited. Whooo, this’ll be great! Then it’s not. And I remember. Oh, right. Can’t stand her. Try to remember that next time, Julie.
On the other end of the spectrum is Dax Shepherd. I think I hate him. I avoid movies that he’s in. Maybe it’s the Punked association. Or maybe he just looks like someone who is in bad movies. Then when I actually accidentally see something he’s done, it’s like, “Oh, he’s not half as stupid as he looks.” In fact, he was the only one who made Employee of the Month remotely bearable. And he was surprisingly effective in a sort of butch part in Zathura. I know these facts to be true. But still, if I saw him on a cast list of a movie today, I can’t guarantee that I wouldn’t automatically strike it off my list. I’ve cut him far less slack than Keanu Reeves. And lord know that guy owes me a ton of cash.
Obviously, I’ve got a glitch in my software. Something in the MEDb (Mental Entertainment Database). Though obviously, I’m not always wrong. Anything with Kim Cattrall will definitely suck. Or she will be the sucky link in an otherwise entertaining chain.
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