I’m Pessimistically Optimistic

I fear I’m turning into an optimist. I used to be one, but somewhere along the way all of that hope became despair. The peaceful easy feelings eventually became engulfed by the witchy woman. I still remember the day it was brought to my attention. One of my friends commented on my apparent disenchantment towards life. I was surprised at first, then defensive, but soon realized he was right, which in turn, made me sad. Yes, it’s a viscous cycle.

Recently, however, I’ve been put into several situations where I would normally jump onto the sorrow-time’s bandwagon, but instead I was full of hope. Hope! It was a weird feeling to have. I tried to reject it at first, but it grew stronger. I tried to ignore it, but the positive feelings kept creeping back. I even forced myself to be negative for days at a time, yet somehow when the Monday gloom set in, I was not affected. And wouldn’t you know it, by the end of the day, the sun was shining. It may be fleeting, but I will take it when I can get. Who knows, maybe it is here to stay.

Sophia Update.

At almost one-year-old, this was her first Easter egg hunt. She didn't really get it, but she had fun anyways.

She loved the zoo...I think. Apparently the Portland zoo only has kitties and dogs on display.

She's been climbing up here to watch TV for the last month and a half. She's got some freakish strength for a little one.

And she still looks like a boy because she doesn't have much hair. Then again, I could pass for a girl when I wear a wig, so I guess that makes us even.

Yes, That Joke Was About You.

Daniel Tosh is a funny man. Okay, he’s not a normal man. He’s a comedian, which means he’s able to look at life through the third eye of humor. This is the eye that allows a person to look at an inappropriate situation and find the humor in it, even when that increases their chances of going to hell; because comedy is a sacrifice. Humor is putting the situation before your own personal image and saying what everyone else is thinking; except for the stupid people. You’re not being the vessel for their thoughts. In fact, chances are they won’t even get most of your jokes, but they’ll laugh because they don’t want to look stupid in front of you, their smart friend.

Basically, what I’m saying is that Daniel Tosh is a funny dude, and you should check out his comedy act. Most comedians are rant about their pasts, which is usually only mildly funny. but because they freak out the entire time your brain finally gives up and you smirk a little bit, which reinforces their confidence, and they keep on doing the same worn out act, which causes me to write long sentences recanting the whole lame thing. I’m sorry Dane Cook, yes, this refers to you. You’re usually not that funny, so shut the hell up, and can you please just take a breath. No, breathing heavy into the microphone doesn’t make you funnier. Thank you.

Tosh is able to look at man’s inhumanity towards man and shove it in your ear hole. And by ear hole, I mean jack hole, and by jack hole, I mean butt. That’s with two ts; I’m not talking about the conjunction here. He's able to say something funny, tell you why it's funny, then tell you why the stupid people didn't laugh all without thinking about it. Anyway, if you don’t like him, I’m sorry. If he offends you, I apologize. If he’s too abrasive, lighten up. And if this whole blog doesn't make a lot of sense, it's because it's late and I'm tired.

Spring Flowers My **S

Last time I checked it is officially spring. I’m also pretty sure that March is supposed to go out like a lamb. That being said, it appears that Mr. Gore and his cohorts might need to re-crunch some numbers. Not only have the oceans not recorded higher temperatures over the last 6 years, but it also has been snowing all day long. Snowing! It’s almost April, it shouldn’t be snowing. And furthermore, I live in Portland, Oregon. We don’t even get snow in January. Can someone please tell me why I’m being knocked over by 10-foot snowflakes in the middle of spring? Anyone…no…Mr. Gore, you got anything for me? Fine then, I guess I’ll just get my sled out of the garage and start enjoying my spring.

I Bring Down Downers

I have finally discovered my reason to live and it goes by the name of http://www.someecards.com/. I’m usually not a fan of e-cards and their impersonal attempt at being personable. They say “I like you, but not enough to actually send you a card,” or “Our friendship is only worth $1.99; to bad Hallmark wants to charge me $2.99. Those capitalist bastards.”

But salvation has come in the form of e-cards that not only mock the sender and receiver, but also slap their reality across the face with sarcasm in the process; and I like that. I know I’m slightly disillusioned and don’t have the social connectivity to actually keep in touch with people, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel bad about my lack of interest. Now I have a site I can go through and read all of the things I’ve been thinking. Who knows, I might even send a couple to some people. Now I just have to find it in me to care enough to remember everyone’s email addresses.

Pardon My Google

I Googled myself today to see what the Internet really thought about me. To my surprise I actually held three of the top four positions on the results page. I also discovered that someone with my name excels at go kart racing. More intriguing was the information under my first web result. It read Lucas Burt: Lucas Burt said... Neon yellow pee is almost as cool as green poop. ... 2:49 PM · Lucas Burt said... I do love chicken and white sauce. ...

It’s interesting to think that if someone is trying to see where I’m at in my life, the first thing they’ll find out is that I think neon yellow pee is almost as cool as green poop. Nice. I guess I need to be more careful about what I say online, unless I want to be known as the neon yellow pee guy.

Father Time.

I ran into someone I haven’t seen in 9 years outside my office today…Weird. We both look a little older but basically the same. We really didn’t have a lot to say to each other. Perhaps it was out of shock, or maybe both of our lives are just that boring. Who knows? The worst part came when we realized it has been 9 years since we’ve seen each other. That means we’re on our way to being old. Seriously, mull that over a little. When the last time you saw someone was in high school and that was 9 years ago, the next step in the space time continuum is when your grandkids can’t tell which picture is yours when they’re looking at your high school year book.

I know there are older people in the world, but the last ten years went by pretty quick, which leads me to believe the next ten will go by even faster. I’ve always said that your sense time is relative to how long you’ve been alive. When you’re five-years-old, the next year of your life is 1/6 of your entire existence, which is a large chunk. When you’re 27-years-old, the next year accounts for only 1/28 of your entire life, thus, making it feel shorter. This means that from here on out it’s only going to feel shorter and shorter as I grow older and older. I’ll be wearing Depends in no time.

The Fate of Man!

Apparently we can’t enjoy anything anymore. A recent study shows that artificial sweeteners in diet sodas actually interfere with your body’s ability to know how many calories it has ingested throughout the day. The lab animals that were tested consumed more calories and gained more weight when eating the fake sugar. Yikes!

Now we’re going to have to find an alternative for the alternative. What’s next? Are they going to find out that O’Douls actually can get you drunk, and that there’s a good chance you may like the Incredible Hulk even when he’s angry? My world is turned upside down once again. I guess we’ll all just have to stick to fruit juices and water. On second thought, we better test the natural sugars in fruit to make sure their juices don’t cause cancer. While we’re at it, I want to see the numbers on water as well. I’m pretty sure it’s the culprit for my recent rash of adult acne.

In fact, it might be safer to avoid food and drinks all together. That way we know that we’re not ingesting anything bad for us, and no one will ever be fat again. It will also help with the earth’s overpopulation; reducing the average human life span to 4-10 days. Brilliant!

MARCHing to Failure

March Madness truly drives me mad. I know that ultimately it’s my fault, but that doesn’t make losing any more enjoyable. In fact, I think I would prefer being able to blame someone else for my bracket failure. As predicted, I toiled over my picks so much and switched them around so often that by the time the games started I completely got away from my original strategy. Granted, there were a lot of upsets this year that would have been hard to see coming, but I had some of them nailed before I started thinking about it too much. Damn my overactive brain power.

All hope is not lost, but it sure is dwindling. I still have three of my final four teams in it, and with any luck, I can win out. Sure, luck isn’t on my side, and it doesn’t seem like skill is either, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have a chance. Even if it’s a one in a million shot, there’s still a chance. Man, where did I get all of this misguided optimism. I like this feeling. Hope is delicious.

Tee Time

I was able to test out my new clubs before I left for North Dakota, and I have to say, I’m pretty satisfied. Unfortunately, I only played bogey golf, but the conditions were poor. Not to mention, I haven’t played for quite sometime, so I’m giving myself a little bit of leeway. If the trend continues, there might be cause for concern, but I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.

Besides liking the feel of my new irons, I also discovered that my best purchase could have been a seven dollar putter. The Ram putter was a bargain buy for sure, but really over-performed on the greens. The weighted head, despite being slightly oversized and modestly hideous to look at, really gave me a fluid stroke. The best part is that the thing was only seven bucks. Man, I love it when that happens.

I'm Back Baby!

I have returned. After taking a trip to the end of the map (North Dakota), the family and I arrived back home today. Luckily we didn’t run into any trouble exchanging our money back to the American dollar and getting use to using our native language. Despite the hardships we faced, the trip was a success. My new Godson was baptized, we laughed and drank with the family, and everyone made it home safely. I did get pulled over by the law early on during our journey, but that’s a story you’ll have to wait to hear about. It involved too much violence, high speed chases, and innocent bystander decapitations to get into right now. Until then…

Discovery Channel Presents…

It’s official in my book. Rays (sting or eagle, a ray is a ray) are more dangerous than sharks. Jaws move over, rays are now the most viscous creatures of the deep. In 2006 the Crocodile Hunter, Steve Irwin, was killed by a sting ray, and a month later another man was severely injured when he was stabbed in the heart by one of these large beasts.

Today, there was another sting ray related death off the coast of Florida. And this time it didn’t even revolve around “man” encroaching on beast’s turf. No, the freaking thing jumped out of the water and rammed a lady on a boat. It didn’t eat her face or stab her in the heart, but she died none the less, which is why I’m no longer scared of sharks, but rays make me pee my pants a little.

In all seriousness, I do feel bad about the lady that died in Florida. No one deserves death by ray.

Good News for Gandhi

In a recent Harvard study on reward versus punishment and cooperation, it turns out that nice guys don’t finish last. In fact, nice guys seemed to finish first. In the study, those who punished their opponents ended up making less money (money disbursement was the measure of success or failure) time and time again while those who cooperated and turned the other cheek usually won. Good news for Gandhi, bad news for Godse (the man who assassinated him). Wait a minute; Gandhi did get murdered, so I guess he really didn’t finished first. Okay, bad example.

The good news is that this leaves open the idea that maybe chicks don’t love a bad boy, and size really doesn’t matter; so much for me getting a tattoo and penis enlargement.

Green = Death

In our never ending battle to be greener, we may be doing more harm than good. Studies are now showing that those amazing little coiled light bulbs may be more dangerous for the environment than previously thought.

The compact Fluorescent bulbs have been touted as using up to 50% less energy as regular bulbs while lasting several times longer (10,000 hours as compared to 1,500 hours of a normal bulb). As it turns out, the waste industry is now speaking up about the difficulties their having disposing of the miracle bulbs. The poisonous innards of one bulb contain enough mercury to contaminate 6,000 gallons of water, which can cause kidney and brain damage. Awesome!

It’s no surprise environmental agencies are torn by this information. The efficient bulbs have, in California alone, prevented 1.5 billion pounds of carbon dioxide from being release into the air since their inception, but that leaves a lot of mercury floating around as well. Oh what an entangled web we weave when at first we do try to be greener and end up killing everyone from mercury poisoning. Yeah, I know it doesn’t rhyme, but just ask Will Smith how this is going to turn out. I’ll give you a hint; zombies, cannibalism, and doing pull-ups alone with your shirt off; scary stuff!

Hooray For Me.

Even though I’m broke, I came across a deal that I couldn’t pass up this last weekend. I usually don’t let bargains get the better of me, but since my tax returns are on the way, I caved. I’m now the proud owner of brand new Taylor Made irons. I got them below cost for $175. I pretty excited about the whole thing. Now I just have to sock some money away so I can actually use them.

I’ve been due for a new set of irons for awhile now; I bought my old set in 1997. They served their purpose, but it’s time to move on. Like an old pair of shoes or a girlfriend, no matter how shiny something was when it was new, sometimes you just have to replace them. Just kidding, I would never replace a good pair of old shoes.

Now that I’m super official with my Taylor Mades, I’m going to either have to play better or start lying about my score. No body likes it when crappy players have really expensive equipment. Anyways, hooray for me.

The Happiest Place On Earth.

It’s time for a vacation. That’s right, a bonafide pack your bags and get on a plane excursion. We did our research and made our decision; North Dakota here we come. I’m excited to finally experience all that great state has to offer; the luscious rolling hills, bright blue skies, unseasonably warm temperatures, the most fashion forward shops in the Midwest, and beaches galore. Wait a minute, I think there’s a distinct possibility I made all that up.

Actually we’re going to ND (that’s what I call it) because Malinda and I were asked to be the Godparents of my brother’s newest addition, Trystan, and we were honored by the invitation. Even though we won’t be prancing along miles of sunny beaches, we still plan on having a great time and really look forward to seeing the family.

For our next family vacation we plan on seeing the sites of Nebraska. I hear the corn fields are gorgeous in early fall.

Bee Movie Gets an A.

Barry Benson is just another college graduate trying to find his way in life. He doesn’t know what job is right for him, whether the world has more to offer, and if he should settle for a normal existence in the hive. That’s right; he’s a bee that lives in a hive. Of course that didn’t stop DreamWorks from parodying “The Graduate.” Regardless, Barry isn’t a normal bee. Instead of following the drove of college bee grads into the honey production lines, he ventures off into the world, only to discover humans are stealing bee honey and selling it for a profit. If you guessed that wacky would ensue, you would be right. But it’s not the kind of wackiness I expected. There are court room scenes, flower heists, and “does anyone know how to fly this plane” moments, but for some reason it all works.

I have to admit, the plot is a bit of a dud, but the dialogue makes up for it. Jerry Seinfeld grew on me as the movie progressed, Renee Zellweger was uncommonly funny (plus I didn’t have to look at her squinty face because she was a cartoon, which makes her a lot less annoying), and the animation was great. Despite the lame climax, I really enjoyed the ride. There was enough funny adult moments (but not too adult) to make up for the cheesiness of it the whole thing. All in all, it’s worth checking out whether you have kids or not.

Finally, I have to say it was a sweet ride, I was stung with laughter, I’ll be buzzing about this one for days, it was honeylarious, it gave me a swarm fuzzy feeling, and it made me want to make passionate love to a mannequin. I guess that last one isn’t really relevant. Oh well.

Hail to the King.

Tiger Woods sunk a 25-foot putt to win the Arnold Palmer Invitational this weekend, and I couldn’t be happier. I don’t know what it is about Tiger that makes me root for him, but I do. I usually don’t like dynasties because the victorious underdog is the most exciting story. That’s what people like to see. That’s what Hollywood movies are about. That’s when legends are made. But with Tiger, it’s different.

He’s won so much, he’s become the underdog. Tiger was seven shots behind going into the weekend. He hadn’t lost in six months. The odds were against him, but yet again, he pulled out his putter on the 18th green and dashed the hopes of the underdog. The writers were ready to tell Bart Bryant’s story. They were eager to verbally recount his hardships and rise to the top. This was Bryant’s day. The day David beat Goliath, or was it? David can’t beat Goliath, because the odds have shifted against Goliath, thus, Goliath is David.

Tiger simply refuses to go down, and I don’t want him to. If he plays, I watch. If he wins, I cheer. If he loses, I say “you’ll get ‘em next time.” He’s the unlikely hero that brought golf into the forefront of the modern era, and I thank him for that. In return, I hope he wins every time he steps onto the fairway. I want him to sink a 30-footer. I want him to be 15-strokes ahead. I want him to break all of the records. I want the underdog to achieve the impossible, by being not only the best, but better than the best even when it’s an impossibility.

March Madness Baby!

Let March Madness begin. It’s that time of year, when I fill out my bracket, watch ESPN, change my picks, read some articles, change my picks again, and then watch my bracket get busted all the way into last place. I don’t know what it is about the excitement of college basketball that causes me to fail miserably, but no matter how many brackets I fill out, I always tend to be at the bottom of the pack.

So this year I’m going into the Madness of March expecting failure and disappointment. Unfortunately, by thinking I’m going to lose, deep down I’m hoping that will help me win, which is raising my hopes. I’ve gone full circle, and now I’m looking forward to winning… It’s going to suck getting disappointed again.

Think Before You Speak.

The definition of the word “sticky” is as follows:
1. Having the property of adhering, as glue; adhesive.
2. Unpleasant; unfortunate; nasty.

The definition of the word “Hummus” is as follows:
1. A PASTE or dip made of chickpeas mashed with oil, garlic, lemon juice, and tahini and usually eaten with pita.

The definition of the word “paste” is as follows:
1. A mixture used for causing paper or other material to adhere to something.

For all of the party’s involved in last night’s Scattergories game, I rest my case. If A = B, and B = C, then A = C. You don’t have to admit that you were wrong, but if the shoe fits, you were wrong. Game, set, match; you can take your “inside the box thinking” and stick it in your ear.

I’m sorry Eric that your win will be tainted forever. And like my favorite Inuit hero, Kiviuq (yes, this is a real Inuit legend), I will handle my kayak is waves higher than mountains, and live to tell about it.

My Brain Is Growing

Mr. Eric Strahl along with myself decided to delve into the supreme task of trying to watch AFI’s top 100 movies of all time last year; AFI stands for “American Film Institute” for all of you who aren’t well versed in the ways of cinema, or if you’re just not a freakin’ nerd. At first this mission seamed simple enough, but the realization sank in after I watched 1915s “Birth of a Nation,” and one of the longest movies ever made, “Dr Zhivago,” that it was not going to be a walk in the park. To make matters worse, after I was three quarters of the way through the list, AFI came out with an updated version. Roughly 30 films were replaced with new ones, thus extending my task to watching the top 130 movies of all time.

I have to admit that even for a movie buff some of these films were hard to get through. But for every dud that was placed on the list because of its historical relevance, there were true gems that I thoroughly enjoyed. “Rear Window” and “Citizen Kane” were among these great older films that are definitely worth watching.

I caught a lucky break in June when I found myself unemployed and eager to be productive. Of course I was also molding a young mind at the time (raising my daughter), but if I was going to experience the full breadth of the list in a reasonable amount of time, I had to get my priorities straight. I must admit, my daughter now has seen more classic films than your average 40-year-old. Too bad she won’t remember it.

Now, after 8 months of watching movies, moving across the country, and working odd jobs, I’m anxious to enjoy the last six films on my list. It will be a momentous occasion worthy of much celebration. Not to mention I will be able to look down upon all those who are not as smart as me. I will laugh at their ignorance and relish in my wealth of vast cinema knowledge. Then I will move on to the task of drinking a bottle of wine from every vineyard in Oregon, then the west coast, and finally the world. I welcome the challenge.

GOAL!!!!

In a scene destined to be portrayed in a Mel Brooks’ movie, seven members of the Cuban soccer team deserted their national club before their Olympic trials match on Thursday. America’s “Wet Foot, Dry Foot” policy was even too much for the potentially Olympic bound players to ignore. The policy allows them to stay in the country and apply for citizenship after one year.

In a twist of fate of stereotypes and ill-conceived humor, this goes hand in hand with the joke that follows: Why doesn’t Cuba ever field a winning Olympic team? Because everyone that can run, jump, or swim, is already in America. The joke is that it’s apparently not a joke at all. I’ll be the first one to admit that I don’t have an appropriate sense of humor, but this is even beyond me.

The worst part about the whole situation is that we (as Americans) bitch daily about how bad we have it. We need to realize that citizens from other countries risk incarceration or death daily just to have a chance at the American dream. And all we do about it is come up with jokes and then keep on bitching. Despite the levity of the situation, it was still one of the funniest things I've heard all week (that's my inappropriate sense of humor coming out again).

To Pry not Two Ply

Do you ever have one of those days where you’re so under the weather that you actually feel like you’re glued to the toilet seat while trying to recover? As permanent as that sometimes feels, it could always be worse. A 35-year-old Kansas woman was brought to the hospital earlier this year after literally becoming fused to her toilet.

Paramedics had to pry the toilet seat off of its base, and take the woman to the hospital in order for it to be surgically removed from her ass. Apparently, the Kansas woman simply refused to leave the bathroom despite her boyfriend’s constant pleas. He eventually started bringing her food and water as he continued to try to persuade her to remove herself from her perch. This went on long enough for her skin to actually fuse itself to the toilet seat. I guess that gives new meaning to being up shit’s creek without a paddle.

I’m not sure how to even respond to this. As funny as it initially sounds, you still have to feel bad about this woman’s state of mind, and her boyfriend’s lack of response to the situation. Ass fusion can’t happen over night. In fact, it takes your skin cells 30 days to completely renew themselves, which means she had to be sitting there for quite awhile. And I thought Romeo and Juliet had it bad.

Seconds Please!

An Italian mobster was released from jail and put on house arrest after guards deemed him too fat for his cell. That’s right; a 462-pound-man received his walking papers in Sicily because he couldn’t use the bathroom by himself and needed help getting dressed in the morning. I’m going to repeat this because it bears repeating. The precedent has been set that if you break the law in Italy, you can avoid jail time as long as you can break a scale as well. Instead of community service, they should sentence him to Jenny Craig service. I mean seriously, how ridiculous is it that you can get out of a prison term because you don’t know when to say when at the Home Town Buffet? Not that I’m planning a life of crime, but if I ever hatch an illegal venture, the first place I’m going is Italy. I’ll eat some cheese, drink some wine, and accept my get out of jail free card. Thank you modern day society for rewarding our criminals for not being healthy. McDonalds' everywhere are saluting you.

The Shins and Killers

I was listening to a random playlist at work yesterday when I was struck by an interesting bolt of knowledge lightening. The Killers and The Shins are two bands I love but don’t really like.

I know it’s weird. I couldn’t quite wrap my head around it at first either, but after racking my brain for an answer, this is the conclusion I came to: I really like both these bands but only when I don’t chose to listen to them. When their music comes on randomly I’m easily swayed by the vibe, but when I play their CDs on my way home, I become bored with the whole thing. I’m not sure how else to explain it. It kind of weirds me out how quickly honest anticipation turns into mediocre enjoyment.

Sorry Eric and Amber. I try to ride your band wagon, but I just can’t pay the fare. Perhaps most of those indie bands are too popularly unpopular for me. (Here comes the longest, coolest sentence ever). Liking them is supposed to make you cool because they were originally underground, but since so many people try to be cool by listening to them, they actually became popular, which means that liking them places you directly in the middle of the band wagon, in turn, making you just like everyone else, e.g., uncool . And I don’t want to be that guy, so instead, I’m going to listen to Matchbox 20 some more. At least that way I know what band wagon I’m on.

Survey Says...

According to MSN, nearly all college campuses have banned hazing, while more than half of college students belonging to campus organizations have reported experiencing the ritual to some extent. On a related note it’s also still completely illegal to be in possession of or consume alcohol if you’re under the age of 21, while the OASAS recently reported that nearly 64% of all full time students drink regularly. Conclusion: Young adults don’t obey the rules. Wow. I’m glad someone paid good money to find that out.

Let me save you some money in the future. Teens have sex; nearly 25% of all female teens have had at least one STD (that one is actually true). Dogs like to sniff other dog’s butts; almost 100% of all dogs have been seen sniffing another K-9s rear end at some point. The Pope is old; I’m not taking a shot at the Pope. I’m just stating the facts. It gets cold in North Dakota; just ask my brother and his family. Yogi Bear is smarter than the average bear, and finally, there’s speculation that George Bush hates black people. You’re the man Kanye, which reminds me, Kanye West is a conceded a**hole.

You can make research checks payable to Lucas Burt. I will submit all surveys and case studies upon request. And I will deny any wrong doing, even if I lose a 23 million dollar law suit for lying.

Erected Officials

New York’s governor, Eliot Spitzer, half-heartedly admitted to getting his democrat on with a high priced prostitute earlier this week. Officially he has only “been linked to a high-priced prostitution ring,” but hey, I have no problem connecting the dots. The irony is that he promoted himself vigorously as being “Mr. Clean” before getting elected into office. Unfortunately, it’s apparent he’s been polishing more than just floors (it’s almost too easy). Now he can only say that his actions, “violate(s) my obligations to my family and violates my — or any — sense of right and wrong. I apologize to the public, whom I promised better."

Not that Americans ever actually believe what politicians say (an unfortunate thought in its own right); this just puts the cherry on top – no pun intended. From Clinton saying “I did not have sexual relations with that woman,” to Gary Hart defying the press to dig up dirt on him during the 1987 Democratic nominations, I’d say politicians definitely like their sexy time, but they don’t like the rest of the world knowing about it. And who blames them? Every time we find out that an elected official is as stupid as we are, we can’t help but throw them under the bus.

I don’t condone cheating in any capacity, but can you imagine what would happen if every American who was caught with their hand in someone else’s cookie jar lost their job. Unemployment rates would rise by over 30%. Of course Spitzer didn’t just cheat. He took his bravado to a whole new level by actually paying for sex. No matter how popular HBO is, this isn’t Deadwood, and prostitution is still illegal. Sorry Spitz, but you’re too high on the totem pole to let this one slide. Did I just reference the Governor’s totem pole? My bad.

Comma,tation, Nation,

I guess I need to take more time to edit my own blogs because apparently I haven’t been using proper “commatation.” According to my ever vigilant wife, I have failed to include many necessary commas in my writing. She is both right and wrong. Naturally, commas are crucial to writing, but not every pause deserves punctuation. However, in most cases using a comma is correct.

For example, this sentence is correct: Therefore, this matter must be dealt with as quickly as possible.

This sentence is also correct: The board therefore voted unanimously in favor of the acquisition.

The difference is that in the second sentence, the word “therefore” doesn’t interrupt the thought. But it would be conceivable for someone to want to put a comma there because a short natural pause does occur. Commas are by far the most confusing form of punctuation, so out of defiance I limit my use of them.

I use the opposite theory when it comes to wine. Everyday there’s a new rule about how much vino is good for you. Some experts say a glass a day provides great antioxidants to your body, other say that two glasses a day in fine. So out of defiance, I drink a bottle at a time. Take that scientists! I’m chalk full of antioxidants whether it’s good or bad.

The bottom line is that in most cases a comma should be used with a pause. In fact, you can argue that I should have used a comma in that last sentence, but again, I chose not to because I didn’t think the phrase “in most cases” interrupted my thought. Screw this. Now I’m confused. And to think, I recently thought about going into teaching English.

Gazunteit!

Airborne lost a $23 million lawsuit last week due to making false claims. They have continually advertised their product as being the cure to the common cold, and as it turns out, it actually does nothing of the sort. And I have no problem saying, “I told you so.” It’s not that I think a school teacher lacks the wherewithal to create a product that can cure a virus, but I am saying that it’s highly unlikely.



So what did the courts have to say? According to recent studies, Airborne is nothing more than an expensive delivery system for vitamin C. The makers of Airborne originally submitted data claiming that during a test trial the vitamin supplement made a significant difference in curing the common cold, and if taken at the first signs of being sick, you could actually avoid the sniffles altogether. Let the back pedaling begin. As it turns out, the address where the trials were completed is nothing more than a little old lady’s house in Florida; Pans Ho (that’s Oh Snap backwards). Not to mention the creator of Airborne denies ever saying that it cures the cold virus. Poor form school teacher, poor form.

Don’t get me wrong, I think that vitamins can boost your immune system, but they can’t cure a cold, which is why I’ve always been a Negative Nancy when people swear by Airborne’s amazing healing powers. The good news is that all of you fools who wasted your money on the expensive vitamins can get it refunded as long as you have a receipt. And if you don’t have a receipt, you can still get up to six packages refunded.

It's not Walden, and I'm not Thoreau

Do you ever wake up and think to yourself “today is the day?” Today is when you will finally reach the proverbial crossroads in your life. You’ll get to make the big decision that will define who you are and where you’re going; if you head left then the outcome will be completely different than if you were to venture right. The map is laid out. The choice is yours.

The anticipation of that day is always on the forefront of your mind when the sun first breaks through the curtains every morning. Your ego salivates at the chance to take the path less traveled. Your subconscious plans its self gratification speech for when the task is complete. You keep your calendar empty because you don’t want anything to get in the way of your time in the spotlight; your moment of clarity, your recognition of wisdom, your satisfaction in a job well done.

But the sun sets without incident. Today, as it turns out, was not the day. Your time did not come. Then you realize that maybe you already had your day. You reached the crossroads and chose your path. It was a subtle decision. No fireworks followed. There was not ticker tape parade; not even a pat on the back. Here you are minus the glory, without the wisdom, void of inspiration. Is it because you went left when you should have gone right?

The Italian B.M.T.

I finally found out what the B.M.T. stands for in Subways Classic Italian B.M.T. sandwich. After much speculation among my office mates, I finally decided to find out for sure. No, it doesn’t stand for Buff Muffin Tamer. Nor is it an acronym for Bacon, Meat, and Tomato. Come on people.

With all of this nonsense being thrown around, I finally wrote Subway and simply asked them. Within 3 days I received this official reply:

In response to your question the acronym B.M.T. stands for Big, Meaty, and Tasty. In the early days of SUBWAYR Restaurants it was a promotion that was based on the Brooklyn Manhattan Transit that went along with the SUBWAYR theme.

So there you have it. Although is started out standing for the Brooklyn Manhattan Transit, is has since been changed to mean Big, Meaty, and Tasty. I guess noting is set in stone; except for the statue of The David... Wait a minute, is marble considered stone?

Fear My Mind Bullets

Do you ever look at something for a long time trying desperately to make it move with your mind? I do. In fact, for the last five minutes I was trying to move a flower vase from across the room using only my telekinetic powers, but all that happened was that I peed my pants a little. I wonder if that counts as telekinesis or if I just have a weak bladder? I guess I should stop trying to do things that are impossible. But what if I quit trying and then ten minutes later someone else figures out how to move things with their mind? Then I would feel like an idiot because I gave up too soon... Ooops, I think I just pooped a little bit that time.

MOOO Cow, No!

I like chicken more than beef. I don't know why, I just do. Steaks are good, but I rarely feel like paying for them. And on a similar note I'm more of a fan of white sauce than red sauce. Red sauce isn't bad, it's just not nearly as good. Go figure.

I think the chicken is angry because there’s a greater likelihood that I’m going to eat it, which means he now has a shorter life expectancy.

TGIF?

So today is Friday. I have a couple of things going for me. One, I’m getting off work at 3 in the p.m.; not bad. Two, I’ve gone to the gym three times this week, and I’ll be able to go again today, which is nice. But I have to tell ya, there’s just a gloom hanging over the city. This whole week has been bright and sunshiny, birds chirping, and flowers blooming. Then today rolls around and it just seems like everything is in a funk; it went from not bad to not cool.

My mission: Turn today around and not let the Friday funk get to me. Sure, I can’t make the sun shine, and I’m probably out of luck when it comes to the birds chirping. But I still have a couple of things going for me and that’s more than zero things going for me. Besides, at least I don’t have to resort to eating Soylent Green. It’s made from people! PEOPLE!

Come on everyone, let's protest!

In the grand scheme of things a couple of pimples are the least of my worries. However, I do feel like I’ve put in my time, and at the ripe old age of 27 I think that I could do without them. I know, I know, curing cancer is important, ending the war in Iraq would be great, and figuring out this whole global warming thing should take precedence in my thoughts. But when I wake up and have two ginormous (damn, I was supposed to boycott that word) zits on my forehead, I get a little angry. Quite frankly, I would like it to stop.

Perhaps if I get a group of people together and stand on a freeway overpass with signs that say “Honk if you want to stop facial zit production” or “Face Zits = Blood” these little red demons will finally go away. For some reason I don’t think that will work, but does it ever. I knew I should've voted for Ross Perot!

Best Movies of '07: Part I
Part II is below

It’s only fair to mention that I’m not a huge fan of making “best of” lists mainly because it’s impossible for me to see all of the movies released in a certain period of time. Whether it’s a month, six months, or a year, it’s difficult for a nonpaid critic to watch the multitude of releases that filter in and out of the theaters on a weekly basis. I do, however, pride myself in watching more movies than the average Joe (or the average Susan). My rental history with Blockbuster Online shows that I received over 100 rentals by mail last year and each of those was also swapped for another in the store, which means I have a decent breadth of films to pick from.
So let me start off by mentioning a handful of movies I didn’t get to see, but feel they may have found a spot somewhere on my list. They are as follows: There Will Be Blood, No Country for Old Men, I am Legend, and Juno.

With that being said let me give you my top five movies of the year in no particular order.

Zodiac: David Fincher added to his resume of brilliant films (Fight Club and Seven) with this gritty procedural. It’s hard to make a methodical movie about newspaper journalists and serial killers with a unique perspective, but he did just that. Mark Ruffalo never disappoints me, and Robert Downey Jr. gives another great performance as one of the obsessive sleuths. He is by far the best coke addicted actor out there. The movie is moody but not too moody, long but not too long, and leads you to a conclusion without giving you the answer.

300: This movie is made for men and women alike. With a thin plot line this epic blood bath is carried solely on chiseled half naked men, sexy mostly naked women, and violence. I looked past what it lacked purely by what it didn’t. The graphic novelesk scenery created an amazing visceral experience, while the performances, at the very least, didn’t hold the movie back. How can you honestly find fault in lines like, “Our arrows will block out the sun.” The retort, “Then we will fight in the shade.”

The Assassination of Jessie James by the Coward Robert Ford: This movie was well received by the critics, but shunned by general audiences. The main reason for this is because the expectation of a movie about Jesse James inspires visions of train robberies and gun fights. This film was more introspective and realistic to the true nature of the times as apposed to Hollywood’s version. The performances were outstanding. Casey Affleck was phenomenal as Robert Ford. He portrayed his insecurities to perfection and definitely deserved his Oscar bid. If you don’t expect an action western then this drama truly delivers.

Knocked Up: This was one of the funniest comedies of the year. The Apatow crew turned out some great material over the course of the summer, but I’m giving the edge to this odd-ball couple that gets pregnant after a drunken one night stand. The humor is even more poignant if you have a kid. Dialogue exchanges like when Debbie’s daughter informs Alison (Katherine Heigl) that she googled murder brought unexpected laughs when I was only expecting jokes about sex. Seth Rogen also gives a fresh performance that doesn’t rely on over-the-top shtick, but rather, good comedic timing.

The Bourne Ultimatum: The third installment of the Bourne series succeeded where the Bourne Supremacy failed. The action and editing moved the story forward without hindering the visual experience. The camera movements were planned out and deliberate and the stunts were realistic; especially when compared to the action thrill ride “Live Free or Die Hard.” Even though movies can’t avoid going over the top, it’s fun to see some one actually get hurt when they get in a car wreck or becoming winded after jumping from rooftop to rooftop.

Best Movies of '07: Part II

The rest of my list includes secondary accolades that I’m handing out because I can. These movies were good in their own way and here’s why.

Hot Fuzz: The Runner-up: In an industry that’s driven by the Hollywood machine, this English movie is a breath of fresh air. The creators of “Shaun of the Dead” follow up their semiserious zombie spoof with a semiserious action bonanza. “Fuzz” starts off by ridiculing the generic story lines of most action movies, but in a good way. By the end of the movie, “Fuzz” actually turns into one of the explosion filled pieces it mocks, but it does it well.

In the Valley of Elah: The Best movie about the Iraq war: Most of the films about the conflict in Iraq fell off the map. Largely because the population is tired of the fiasco we’ve seemed to have gotten ourselves into. “Elah,” however, doesn’t play the same wounded soldier tune. Instead it tells the story of a father trying to figure out what happened to his son while fighting for our country. It’s a moving film that definitely says its piece. I usually don’t like being bombarded with a message, but it works here.

Once: The Most unexpected good time: “Once” lets us into the lives of a lonely musician the woman who befriends him. I was weary about this documentary-type filming at first, but was completely sold on the story these two strangers had to tell. I usually don’t like movies driven by songs, but “Once” was more than a musical. The songs brought the character’s back stories into the forefront beautifully and added a definite richness to the film.

Meet the Robinsons: The Best cartoon: I thought a lot of cartoons fell flat this year. Either they weren’t funny or just dumb. I guess I was one of the few people that were disappointed by “Ratatouille.” Regardless, “The Robinsons” had me laughing most the way through. It did for me this year, what “Monster House” did for me last year. Of course, I was also let down by “Cars.”

Transformers: The Best worst movie: Michael Bay’s career is full of hits and misses where most of his hits are still littered with misses. But even his handy work couldn’t ruin the nostalgic pleasure “Transformers” brought to the screen; although he desperately tried. The action and sound editing was top notch, and Shia provided an unexpected but great comedic element. Even if some of the story lines were incomplete and every female was unrealistically bangin’ hot (I can’t honestly say I was disappointed by that), the movie still entertained. It’s hard to look past the fact that the only real emotional moment of the movie was between a boy and his dying car, but hey, did I mention his girlfriend is really hot.

Gracie: The Best only movie I was in: This embellished take on Elisabeth Shue’s childhood was exactly that; a story about a girl playing soccer in high school… Awww, how sweet. But because I made some background appearances on the soccer field, I have to recognize it on my list.

Well that’s it. If you feel I left something off the list the chances are you’re wrong, but tell me about it anyway. Until next year, enjoy.

gi·nor·mous: jī-ˈnȯr-məs: extremely large.

Now that “ginormous” is in Webster’s dictionary I’m completely boycotting the use of the word. I thought that I was the only pioneer of made up verbiage, and took the most pride in “ginormous.” So To find out that other people use it, and that it’s being officially recognized, makes me a little angry. What’s next, are they going to include “notrocious” in the growing list of super-officiality (the dictionary)? If you’re not familiar with the word, it means notoriously atrocious. What has the world come to when a guy can’t make up a word and feel secretly smart by using it only because of its ridiculous nature? Perhaps we should outlaw leather chaps while riding a scooter as well? Or maybe congress should get together and make Aloha Fridays mandatory in every office? That’s right; it would lose its luster then!

The point is that it was a great word, and now it’s simply normal. People don’t act like dorks because they want to be dorks. They act like dorks because it means that they don’t take themselves too seriously, and that’s what makes them cool. If being a dork were actually cool, then it wouldn’t actually be cool to be a dork. So be careful throwing around words like “frenemies” and “showmance,” because you never know when Webster’s going to take the credit for them.

I’m not sure if “Quirky” is a strong enough word...

“The King of Kong: A Fist Full of Quarters” is a heart warming documentary about two men competing to be the world’s best at the arcade classic, Donkey Kong. Two red flags for potentially boring movies wave immediately. I mean seriously, strike one is that it’s a documentary, and strike two is that it’s about middle-aged video game players; or “gamers” as they like to be called. That being said “King of Kong” is the most entertaining documentary I’ve seen in a long time.

This movie chronicles Billy Mitchell and Steve Wiebe’s back and forth battle at claiming the Guinness World Record for high score on the joystick classic. Billy, who is slightly larger in his own mind, has been the top dog on the chutes and ladders game since 1982; when out of nowhere a 35-year-old unemployed husband and father, Steve, records an impossible new record. This real life version of David versus Goliath pulls you in before you can even realize that you’re watching two video game aficionados vie for supremacy one quarter at a time. The supporting characters like the aging referee and founder of Twin Galaxies Official Scoreboard, Walter Day, could not have been written in a more eccentric light. And while you still chuckle at the level of importance the sub-world of hardcore gamers place on these titles, you still have to commend the level of dedication and skill it takes to become the world’s best at “anything.”

By the time the credits roll you definitely feel like you’ve witnessed an epic battle between good and evil or at the very least Luke Skywalker versus Darth Vader. And just when you think the story’s over, the special features fuel to the fire with a quick epilogue of updates… I smell sequel.

All in all, "The King of Kong" was a wildly subdued yet awkward classic. The whole idea of documentary about Donkey Kong being fun seems to be an oxymoron so why not describe it as one. I’m not sure if quirky is the right word, but it’s definitely the first one that comes to mind.

Thank You Sir, May I Please Have Another.

I’m definitely too young to be too old for this. At least that’s what I thought. After last night, however, I believe my self perception has done a flip-turn-upside down. I’ll be the first person to admit that I was never a huge party animal. Even in college I had the tendency to be less ambitious than my roommates when the liquor started flowing. But I did do some damage on occasion and never had a problem bouncing back the next day… Of course we all know that times change. I just didn’t think it would change this quickly.

Let me break it down for you. As I mentioned below, the family and I spent this last weekend at the coast with some friends. I don’t know exactly what it is about a beach house that brings out the boozer in me, but for some reason popping the top at noon always seems like a good idea. I’m not even sure when it happened, and by “when” I mean getting a little on the tipsy side. It’s not like I was lining up shots or doing keg stands, but somewhere between having a beer with lunch and a glass of wine with dinner I got drunk. I wasn’t “falling over and peeing in corners” drunk, but by the next morning, I knew that I had probably had one too many.

I guess my body just doesn’t recover like it used to. Between the splitting headache and nausea I swore off drinking for the second time in one weekend. At first I was just miserable, but when I started thinking about the nights I was able to bounce back from in college, I started feeling old and miserable. And I know I’m not old. I’m not even halfway to being halfway to old. But I’ve got to tell you, if hangovers get worse than this in the years to come, I may actually have to stop drinking all together. Now I know why people get bitter. Unfortunately bitterness usually leads to drinking, which then leads to more bitterness. Ba duh dum de dum dum and the beat goes on.

Rise and Shine…

So we made a rash decision to go to the Oregon coast for the weekend. I haven’t been here for three years. What makes that fact even sadder (lesson to reader-sadder isn’t an actual word) is that it’s only the third time I’ve ever made the trek out here. I’ve lived in this fine state for almost seven forgettable years now, all of which I was a mere hour and a half from the windy, frigged Pacific, and I simply never bothered to go. But in my ever growing wisdom I recently realized that if it’s good enough for the Goonies then it’s good enough for me. My lack of journeymanism is not the point. So what is the point you ask?

This little gem reiterates the fact that having a kid is a full time job; 24/7 and even more so 7/52. For those of you that aren’t privy to the genius, that’s 24 hours a day, 7 days a week – 7 days a week, 52 weeks a year. I know it’s a little intense.

We pulled into the beach house around 8:30 in the pm, and promptly spent the next hour and half trying to get my little darling to fall asleep. You don’t realize the true potential of the volume of your child’s voice until they decide they don’t want to fall asleep in a foreign bedroom; nothing turning up the stereo doesn’t fix. Catching up with friends ensued, coupled with wine and the musical stylings of three fools who aren’t as good as they think they are; yours truly included. Finally, spinning and content, we made it off to bed.

All in all not a bad evening… But when the morning comes around the kid’s internal alarm clock never fails to go off. It’s 6:30 in the am, and little Sophia is rising and shining. I, however, am not shining, but never the less I have to rise; 24/7 and even more so 7/52. But all it takes is for her to smile and say “daddy”, and it’s all okay. Now if you can excuse me while I go and brew another pot of coffee.

Lucas Burt