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Million Dollar Robie

2005-02-28 - 10:29 a.m.

Chris Rock as Oscar Host: Solid B

Listening To: Bowie, Postal Service, Blur, Yeah Yeah Yeah's, Wilco

Quote:"I think Cameron just said, 'Kobayashi Maru'." - Zach

Boy! Oscar fever, huh! Whoa boy! Oscars! Mmmm, mmmm, mmmmmm - gotta love me some Oscars. Yeah - so the Oscars. They were ok. Far too much Jaime Foxx for my taste. But most things these days are too much Jaime Foxx for my tastes. I did see Million Dollar Baby yesterday afternoon. For several reasons. One, I wanted to see at least one of the nominated movies before the Oscars. Two, I heard it was good. Three, I heard one of the characters saw dead people or some such and I didn't want it ruined for me. But yeah, it was a damn fine movie. There were no "visits to town", "sweater fondling", or "Ruth Buzzi" references, so I mean, it was no "Wet Hot American Summer" - but it's not quite fair to hold other movies up to such standards. But on the non-Wet Hot scale, I suppose you should go see Million Dollar Baby. If not for the acting skills of Morgan Freeman and Clint Eastwood (and a surprisingly large role from Jay "Steven from Undeclared!" Baruchel) then go so you can question your sexuality by finding Hilary Swank hot despite (or maybe because) of her Matt Damon horsey-jaw. But yeah - ignore the hype - just go see it.

So the world keeps turning and things keep changing and umber keeps getting burnt-er. First and foremost - our lil' guy is all growed up and is taking him a wife. That's right, Stuff & Things resident savant, a thorn in the side of logic from the very beginning, Frederick Robie! He went and proposed to Ellen and now she's gonna make an honest man out of him! (Date to be determined) Coty and I are having a major case of empty nest syndrome. (The kind that doesn't involve Richard Mulligan) Despite the fact that Coty is in Southern California, I live in NH and Fred is in Mass - and this has been the case for a few years. Still, it doesn't make it any easier for Coty and me to digest. I mean, we worry is all. Will Ellen be there to help him make his Crisp N Tasty pizzas? Will she catch him cheating oh-so-vaingloriously at video games? Will she comb his hair while he sleeps? These are questions that only time can answer I suppose. Don't you all worry about Coty and me, I suppose we'll soldier on. Things will probably get dicey though when we have to decide which one of us is going to give Frederick away.

What else is changing? Well - ol' Silver Street is seeing some shifting sands of its own. 'Tis true. No, no - not that. Architectuarellayly I mean! Let me tell you piss your pants scary/horrifying. You know the end of E.T. when they've got all that plastic and everyone's being all quarantined and shit and they have to burn the Velveteen Rabbit? Oh man, well that's what I thought was happening when I came home the other day.

Waldi has plasticized his old room off from the rest of the house, which gives me this little 2 foot walking area to get out of my room, and curl around to the staircase. It's very claustrophobing. And it makes me regret ever coming to this backwater planet on a botany mission to begin with!

Ok, now this is a tricky one. This is me going right up to the plastic fantastic and scoping out what old man Waldi was doing on the "other side". I don't know why I put that in quotes. It looks more mysterious that way. Anyway, look close. You can see Waldi up on some sort of a "stepping stool" inserting some "insulation" into the "wall". Crazy

Silly me thought that he was doing all of this in an attempt to make the house warmer, more soundproof, more cozy, etc. Oh me, oh my, no! He got an ancient treasure map from out in the shed that fortells hidden doubloons in the floor boards of our house! I should have known. Ben does absolutely nothing if it's not marked first with an X.

How many times have I been over Shan-Y's place in last week? I not know. I can't count that high. But her and Ben (Cole!, not Waldi! Pay attention!) are fully addicted to Alias and Y. See? The couple that reads comics and hearts Jack Bristow together stays together. Or something. I don't know. I don't write fucking greeting cards. Anyway, I went over there last Thursday after the super fun time Boat Show set-up in Manchester and I was so exhausted Al-Y had to keep prodding me awake so I wouldn't miss Gallant patching up some sort of sucking chest wound or Neela and her hanky panky. Or something. I don't know. I was pretty punchy. And there was drying leathered fruit or some sort of Vegan concoction wafting through the place that I think was seeping into my brain. Don't believe me that it was just that much fun?! I'll prove it!

Just look at the two of them! Positively agog with excitement! And vim! And vigor! Hell, I don't really know what "vim" is, but they got it! Ok fine - Aly is probably being hypnotized by some rainforest commercial and Shannon is online explaining to Hayley the finer points of how dumb she is. Sorry if I tried to dress it up a bit

Speaking of TV, the fucktards at FOX, who seem to give NBC a run for their money these days, seemed determined to bury Arrested Development. This cannot happen. Arrested Development is one of, if not the best, television shows to be created in the last 5 years. Are you sick of fucking shit like the Apprentice, Still Standing, Super Nanny, Wife Swap, and anything starring Kirstie Alley's whale barge of a body? Well then stop pointlessly bitching like I tend to do! Even if you have never seen Arrested Development (and if you haven't, what the fuck is wrong with you?), please check out Save Our Bluths! See what you can do to help save such a genius show and grant it the 3rd Season it so richly deserves. Do it for Undeclared. Do it for NewsRadio. Do it for Freaks and Geeks. Do it so this won't have to be yet ANOTHER show you finally watch on DVD later on and say, "Gawrsh! This show is mighty fine! Why didn't it last?" It didn't last because not enough people supported it when it counted. So do it! You know, unless you like shitty, watered down television and feel content to watch 7th Heaven until you're dead. Just sayin' is all.

And I'll close with a gift. A gift of me. Here's a picture of me in my new daily grind. And for those of you that assumed that my new daily grind was wearing green snowmobile helmets and cradling an indignant plastic owl named "Hooty", well - kudos to you I suppose, that was a damn fine guess.

It's been real,


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