I would be remiss if I didn't write something about my beloved Chicago Cubs today as last night they became Division Champs. Good job, guys. I wrote about my feelings towards the Cubs back in June when I went to a game.
The most fun part is watching the crazy fans on TV. They're so hopeful. It's not that I'm not excited. It's just that I don't get my hopes up much anymore. I simply try to enjoy the winning when it happens.
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
You Might be Obsessed with Apple if...
I was looking at a website today and on it, someone was giving away irises. At first glance, I got a little excited because I thought it was an Apple related product...an iRise. Something to place your monitor on perhaps, fashioned to match your beautiful Mac. Much to my dismay, I soon realized they were talking about the flower.
Crazy Neighbors
I'm sorry, but this post is strictly for complaining purposes. You don't have to read it if you don't want to.
We have some crazy neighbors ("we" being my roommate and I). These are the people that live below us. We live in a cute little house on the top floor. It's very adorable and I love it, however we can't seem to get away from weird people.
When we first moved in, there was a couple living below us that we spoke to maybe once. We never really saw them coming or going from their apartment, but we know they did because their car was gone sometimes. They also had a car sitting in the garage with all flat tires. They had an aquarium and some garbage cans sitting behind the car in the garage. When they moved out, I opened the garage one day and the aquarium and garbage cans were in the exact same spot, but the car was gone, as though it had magically been lifted out of the garage without disturbing anything. I can only imagine this may really be what happened seeing is the car had no working tires.
Anyway, now we have a new family downstairs consisting of 2 parents, a daughter who's probably jr. high or high school age and a little boy who's maybe 7. He's always playing outside by the garage. I've almost hit him with my car maybe 10 times now. At first, they all seemed fairly normal. When they moved in, they had two cars; a ghetto old pick up truck and a van with lots of dents. Then one day, another ghetto old car appeared. Then another. Then one day I pulled into the garage and there was a nasty old Jeep parked in their spot that I'd not seen before. That adds up to 5 cars. They have 5 ghetto old cars packed into our small little parking area behind the house. I imagine they won't be bringing anymore cars home only because they won't actually fit anywhere!
Then, the other day my roommate came home and informed me that they had a dog on a chain out in the backyard and he was sitting on top of his dog house, Snoopy style. I was a little surprised that I'd not seen or heard this dog at all. He just magically appeared. Kind of like their cars. Is there going to be another dog tomorrow? Probably. Anyway, I didn't really care about the dog thing as long as it wasn't annoying, and it hadn't been, so fine. Then, this morning, 4 a.m., I hear freakin' barking in the back yard. I thought for sure they would hear their stupid dog barking, but either they didn't hear him (which would mean they're all deaf), or they chose to ignore it and he continued barking for at least an hour.
During this hour, I went through many options in my half asleep head. I considered going downstairs, knocking on their door, and insisting that they shut up their stupid dog, but I was too lazy and it's kind of creepy outside at night. Then I thought about calling the cops. Then I thought I'll wait till the morning, knock on their door and tell them I'm going to call the cops if it happens again. Then I came up with what I believed to be my best option. Go Seinfeld on the stupid dog and take care of it once and for all. This was clearly the most fun and violent option. I just needed to find a Newman of my own. Apparently I'm a very angry person at 4 a.m.
We have some crazy neighbors ("we" being my roommate and I). These are the people that live below us. We live in a cute little house on the top floor. It's very adorable and I love it, however we can't seem to get away from weird people.
When we first moved in, there was a couple living below us that we spoke to maybe once. We never really saw them coming or going from their apartment, but we know they did because their car was gone sometimes. They also had a car sitting in the garage with all flat tires. They had an aquarium and some garbage cans sitting behind the car in the garage. When they moved out, I opened the garage one day and the aquarium and garbage cans were in the exact same spot, but the car was gone, as though it had magically been lifted out of the garage without disturbing anything. I can only imagine this may really be what happened seeing is the car had no working tires.
Anyway, now we have a new family downstairs consisting of 2 parents, a daughter who's probably jr. high or high school age and a little boy who's maybe 7. He's always playing outside by the garage. I've almost hit him with my car maybe 10 times now. At first, they all seemed fairly normal. When they moved in, they had two cars; a ghetto old pick up truck and a van with lots of dents. Then one day, another ghetto old car appeared. Then another. Then one day I pulled into the garage and there was a nasty old Jeep parked in their spot that I'd not seen before. That adds up to 5 cars. They have 5 ghetto old cars packed into our small little parking area behind the house. I imagine they won't be bringing anymore cars home only because they won't actually fit anywhere!
Then, the other day my roommate came home and informed me that they had a dog on a chain out in the backyard and he was sitting on top of his dog house, Snoopy style. I was a little surprised that I'd not seen or heard this dog at all. He just magically appeared. Kind of like their cars. Is there going to be another dog tomorrow? Probably. Anyway, I didn't really care about the dog thing as long as it wasn't annoying, and it hadn't been, so fine. Then, this morning, 4 a.m., I hear freakin' barking in the back yard. I thought for sure they would hear their stupid dog barking, but either they didn't hear him (which would mean they're all deaf), or they chose to ignore it and he continued barking for at least an hour.
During this hour, I went through many options in my half asleep head. I considered going downstairs, knocking on their door, and insisting that they shut up their stupid dog, but I was too lazy and it's kind of creepy outside at night. Then I thought about calling the cops. Then I thought I'll wait till the morning, knock on their door and tell them I'm going to call the cops if it happens again. Then I came up with what I believed to be my best option. Go Seinfeld on the stupid dog and take care of it once and for all. This was clearly the most fun and violent option. I just needed to find a Newman of my own. Apparently I'm a very angry person at 4 a.m.
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Garage Sale Fun
This morning I shopped a few garage sales with my mother and my friend Emily. We found one particularly impressive estate sale in an old house with lots and lots of old (and some weird) stuff.
I enjoy estate sales immensely because you get to actually go through other peoples' houses; houses that usually belonged to an incredibly old person and are filled with furniture from the 70's and gaudy wallpaper. Such was the case at this particular house. It was amazing. I was highly successful at this sale; I purchased The Wizard of Oz sountrack on vinyl, a cubs pennant that's gotta be from the 60's, and a People magazine from 1985 with Bette Davis on the cover. Amazing finds, I know.
Anyway, the best part of the estate sale was not what we bought, but the disturbing conversation we had with a fellow shopper. Emily and I had made our way into a small bedroom inside the house filled with a bunch of clothes and other random junk. There was a very small closet with a few clothes items hanging inside, one of which was some sort of fur shawl type thing. While we were rummaging about in this room, a woman came in, maybe in her 60's, and started trying on this fur thing. She was rather pleased to find it and starting telling us this story about how she once bought a very small fur shawl for $.50 at a garage sale for her granddaughter to play dress up in and she went on to sell it at an antique store for $30. She was very proud of this and told us the story a number of times while we smiled politely.
After she stood there staring at herself in the mirror wearing the shawl for a few minutes, her husband showed up in the doorway and their conversation went as follows:
Woman: Honey, should I buy this?
Man: -grunt-
Woman: Remember when I bought that really small fur and sold it at the antique store for $30?
Man: -grunt-
Woman: What if I get naked and wear only this?
Man: -grunt-
Me (in my head): WHA?!
The rest of it was kind of a blur (I was mostly in shock) and Emily and I desperately looked for a way to exit the room. Somehow we managed to get out of there without bursting into fits of laughter (or throwing up).
We finally checked out and got in the car where we could laugh sufficiently. We found out that my mother was in the next room during all this, heard it all going on, and laughed out loud.
A bit later on, we arrived at a "multi-family" garage sale which actually only consisted of two houses. Somehow we'd gotten back on the subject of the naked fur lady and as we got out of the car and walked towards the garage sales, we were joking and giggling about this poor woman and her uninterested husband. Seconds later we looked up to see that our very own naked fur lady was at the garage sale next door. I sincerely hope she didn't hear us talking, but if she did I don't feel too bad. Perhaps she will be more discreet next time. Nobody needs to know about her kinky fur-filled sex life.
I enjoy estate sales immensely because you get to actually go through other peoples' houses; houses that usually belonged to an incredibly old person and are filled with furniture from the 70's and gaudy wallpaper. Such was the case at this particular house. It was amazing. I was highly successful at this sale; I purchased The Wizard of Oz sountrack on vinyl, a cubs pennant that's gotta be from the 60's, and a People magazine from 1985 with Bette Davis on the cover. Amazing finds, I know.
Anyway, the best part of the estate sale was not what we bought, but the disturbing conversation we had with a fellow shopper. Emily and I had made our way into a small bedroom inside the house filled with a bunch of clothes and other random junk. There was a very small closet with a few clothes items hanging inside, one of which was some sort of fur shawl type thing. While we were rummaging about in this room, a woman came in, maybe in her 60's, and started trying on this fur thing. She was rather pleased to find it and starting telling us this story about how she once bought a very small fur shawl for $.50 at a garage sale for her granddaughter to play dress up in and she went on to sell it at an antique store for $30. She was very proud of this and told us the story a number of times while we smiled politely.
After she stood there staring at herself in the mirror wearing the shawl for a few minutes, her husband showed up in the doorway and their conversation went as follows:
Woman: Honey, should I buy this?
Man: -grunt-
Woman: Remember when I bought that really small fur and sold it at the antique store for $30?
Man: -grunt-
Woman: What if I get naked and wear only this?
Man: -grunt-
Me (in my head): WHA?!
The rest of it was kind of a blur (I was mostly in shock) and Emily and I desperately looked for a way to exit the room. Somehow we managed to get out of there without bursting into fits of laughter (or throwing up).
We finally checked out and got in the car where we could laugh sufficiently. We found out that my mother was in the next room during all this, heard it all going on, and laughed out loud.
A bit later on, we arrived at a "multi-family" garage sale which actually only consisted of two houses. Somehow we'd gotten back on the subject of the naked fur lady and as we got out of the car and walked towards the garage sales, we were joking and giggling about this poor woman and her uninterested husband. Seconds later we looked up to see that our very own naked fur lady was at the garage sale next door. I sincerely hope she didn't hear us talking, but if she did I don't feel too bad. Perhaps she will be more discreet next time. Nobody needs to know about her kinky fur-filled sex life.
Friday, September 14, 2007
One Movie I Will NOT Be Seeing
If I have to hear about this Mr. Woodcock movie one more time, I think I'm going to vomit. It all started the other day when I saw a preview for it on TV. I was disgusted, but I didn't worry about it too much seeing as it looks to be possibly the dumbest movie ever and hopefully I would never hear about it again. I was terribly, terribly wrong.
Part of my job is formatting a Movies Newsletter. As I started looking through the new movie reviews to go into the newsletter today, much to my dismay I found that Mr. freakin' Woodcock was part of the lineup. This doesn't really surprise me as we review most new movies. Of course, we did not give it a good review. But still, I had to hear about it again, which was unfortunate. And I had to see the poster image which was even more unfortunate. Out of good taste, I'm not going to post this image here.
So I finished my newsletter, hoping to never have to hear about this movie again, when I find an email sitting in my inbox from New Line Cinema informing me that "Mr. Woodcock is now in theatres." Fabulous. Thank you for letting me know.
Now, why do I hate this movie so much? Besides the fact that it basically slaps you in the face with obscenity, what really upsets me is that it insults my intelligence and the intelligence of the entire world. If the mere title is so painfully obvious in its attempt to be funny, that it turns out completely unfunny, what are we to expect from the movie itself? Do we really have to be so blatantly obscene in order to be funny these days? Is this the only way we can get attention? It reminds me of this exchange between Bart and Homer Simpson one day when Homer is looking after Moe's:
When you have to be that obvious about a joke, it's not even a joke anymore!
Needless to say I do not plan on wasting my money on this film, nor can I fathom how anyone would want to, though I imagine there are millions of 12 year old boys out there (and possibly adults with severely underdeveloped senses of humor) who cannot wait to see it. I pity them.
Part of my job is formatting a Movies Newsletter. As I started looking through the new movie reviews to go into the newsletter today, much to my dismay I found that Mr. freakin' Woodcock was part of the lineup. This doesn't really surprise me as we review most new movies. Of course, we did not give it a good review. But still, I had to hear about it again, which was unfortunate. And I had to see the poster image which was even more unfortunate. Out of good taste, I'm not going to post this image here.
So I finished my newsletter, hoping to never have to hear about this movie again, when I find an email sitting in my inbox from New Line Cinema informing me that "Mr. Woodcock is now in theatres." Fabulous. Thank you for letting me know.
Now, why do I hate this movie so much? Besides the fact that it basically slaps you in the face with obscenity, what really upsets me is that it insults my intelligence and the intelligence of the entire world. If the mere title is so painfully obvious in its attempt to be funny, that it turns out completely unfunny, what are we to expect from the movie itself? Do we really have to be so blatantly obscene in order to be funny these days? Is this the only way we can get attention? It reminds me of this exchange between Bart and Homer Simpson one day when Homer is looking after Moe's:
Bart: I'd like to speak to a Mr. Tabooger, first name Ollie.
Homer: (excited) Ooh! My first prank call! What do I do?
Bart: Just ask if anyone knows Ollie Tabooger.
Homer: I don't get it.
Bart: Yell out "I'll eat a booger"
Homer: What's the gag?
Bart: Oh, forget it...
When you have to be that obvious about a joke, it's not even a joke anymore!
Needless to say I do not plan on wasting my money on this film, nor can I fathom how anyone would want to, though I imagine there are millions of 12 year old boys out there (and possibly adults with severely underdeveloped senses of humor) who cannot wait to see it. I pity them.
Thursday, September 6, 2007
Why Can't a Woman be More Like a Man?
So I've had a few ... interesting conversations with some of my girlfriends lately, and today while listening to my My Fair Lady soundtrack, I actually found myself relating to Henry Higgins. I think he was onto something. While I don't necessarily approve of his women-bashing, and most of the things he praises about men are completely untrue, I have to agree with him on this: women are too dramatic. I'm a girl and I can't even deal with the drama! It's just not me.
Why did I turn out this way? I really have no explanation. I have too much common sense, and let's face it, most women don't make sense. And they confuse me. So when they get overly dramatic, I just nod and smile and try not to make them feel like they're crazy, but it's honestly hard sometimes.
Now I'm not saying that I haven't had my fair share of girly moments, because I have. But I quickly realize that I'm being irrational and I snap out of it. It's not that hard. And I'm not saying that men are perfect by any means. I'm just saying that women could stand to be a little more like men. And certainly men could stand to be a lot more like women, but Henry Higgens didn't sing a clever song about that.
Why did I turn out this way? I really have no explanation. I have too much common sense, and let's face it, most women don't make sense. And they confuse me. So when they get overly dramatic, I just nod and smile and try not to make them feel like they're crazy, but it's honestly hard sometimes.
Now I'm not saying that I haven't had my fair share of girly moments, because I have. But I quickly realize that I'm being irrational and I snap out of it. It's not that hard. And I'm not saying that men are perfect by any means. I'm just saying that women could stand to be a little more like men. And certainly men could stand to be a lot more like women, but Henry Higgens didn't sing a clever song about that.
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