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January 31, 2005

what's so funny about..... [updated]

Apologies for the lame blogging day. If it's any consolation, it was lame day around the homestead, too.

I'm working on a post for the morning that I need your help with. Without letting on what the topic of the post is (though some of you may figure it out), I'm just going to throw some questions out here for you.

First, if you're posting anonymously in the comments, I need to know if you're male or female.

Now:

What's your favorite comedy movie? Favorite comedy tv show (past or present)?
Can you recite lines from Monty Python and the Holy Grail? Animal House? Steve Martin comedy routines? Saturday Night Live sketches? Ever play with a nerf gun? Tell fart jokes? Laugh at fart jokes?
In as few words as possible, what kind of humor appeals to you?

Remember, it's important to state if you're male or female (if it's not already obvious).

Thank you.

Added question:

Who is your favorite stand up comedian (past or present)?

Misty water colored memories..........

So, if I've been blogging four years now (today being the official date), it stands to reason that I've been reading blogs four years as well.

If I were to make a top ten list of my favorite blogging moments that occurred on blogs other than my own, right up there would be Juan Gato's Bucket O' Hugs.

Happy Anniverary, Juan Gato/FAD/All other incarnations

punting

One sick kid + one bout of insomnia + one bad back = Monday.

I imagine the blogging will be light today. So I'll just leave you with the contents of an email from my mother.

1. A vulture boards an airplane, carrying two dead raccoons. The stewardess looks at him and says, "I'm sorry, sir, only one carrion allowed per passenger."

2. Two fish swim into a concrete wall. One turns to the other and says, "Dam!".

3. Two Eskimos sitting in a kayak were chilly, so they lit a fire in the craft. Unsurprisingly it sank, proving once again that; you can't have your kayak and heat it too.

4. Two hydrogen atoms meet. One says "I've lost my electron." The other says "Are you sure?" The first replies "Yes, I'm positive."

5. Did you hear about the Buddhist who refused Novocain during a root canal?
His goal: transcend dental medication.

6. A group of chess enthusiasts checked into a hotel and were standing in the lobby discussing their recent tournament victories. After about an hour, the manager came out of the office and asked them to disperse.
"But why?" they asked, as they moved off.
"Because", he said, "I can't stand chess-nuts boasting in an open foyer."

7. A woman has twins and gives them up for adoption. One of them goes to a family in Egypt and is named "Ahmal." The other goes to a family in Spain; they name him "Juan." Years later, Juan sends a picture of himself to his birth mother. Upon receiving the picture, she tells her husband that she wishes she also had a picture of Ahmal.
Her husband responds, "They're twins! If you've seen Juan, you've seen Ahmal."

8. These friars were behind on their belfry payments, so they opened up a small florist shop to raise funds. Since everyone liked to buy flowers from the men of God, a rival florist across town thought the competition was unfair. He asked the good fathers to close down, but they would not. He went back and begged the friars to close. They ignored him. So, the rival florist hired Hugh MacTaggart, the roughest and most vicious thug in town to "persuade" them to close. Hugh beat up the friars and trashed their store, saying he'd be back if they didn't close up shop.
Terrified, they did so, thereby proving that only Hugh can prevent florist friars.

9. Mahatma Gandhi, as you know, walked barefoot most of the time, which produced an impressive set of calluses on his feet. He also ate very little, which made him rather frail and with his odd diet, he suffered from bad breath. This made him ...(Oh, man, this is so bad, it's good)..... A super calloused fragile mystic hexed by halitosis.

10. And finally, there was the person who sent ten different puns to his friends, with the hope that at least one of the puns would make them laugh. No pun in ten did????

You know what to do.

January 30, 2005

a note to my son on his 12th birthday

Happy Birthday, DJ.

Thank you for every smile, every laugh, every hug and for being the kind of kid who is never embarassed to kiss his parents his good night.

Thanks for letting me be the mother of the kid about whom everyone says "I want one just like him."

I love you, kid. You make me proud. I hope you make you proud. Learn to appreciate yourself a bit more. And remember, girls only want boyfriends who have great skills. So get started on those nunchuck skills, bowhunting skills, computer hacking skills...

May all your dreams come true, DJ. May you be a rock star, an all-star third baseman and a certified zombie expert in your lifetime.

And may you get rich doing all those things so you can take care of your family later on.

Happy Birthday.

Election Day

Today we vote, today is a democracy birthday.


[photo property of Alaasmary]

Complete Iraq election coverage at Command Post

January 29, 2005

Songs of The Night - Hard/Soft

For anyone who feels like kicking someone.

Fear Factory - Replica mp3

And for after the kicking, the mellowing out...

And I'm sick of your tattoos, and the way you always criticize the Smiths... and Morrissey.
Brand New - Mix Tape mp3

Have I mentioned how much I love this band?

random list

Soundtracks that were better than the movie:

  • Mortal Kombat
  • Mortal Kombat Annihilation
  • Spawn
  • Judgment Night
  • Lost Highway
  • Resident Evil
  • Freddy v. Jason
  • Scream 3
  • Strangeland

[inspiration from the comments here]

Quote of the Day

And, just maybe, a Bush quote that everyone can applaud.

"As a free-speech advocate, I often told parents who were complaining about content, you're the first line of responsibility; they put an off button (on) the TV for a reason. Turn it off," Bush told C-SPAN interviewer Brian Lamb.

Link

Uwe Boll's World: Where Has-Been Actors Go To Die

I've been having a great time the past few days at the expense of Uwe Boll.

Who is Uwe Boll, some of you ask? He's a crazy German director that makes a living bringing video games to life. Sort of. I mean, he tries. but did you see House of the Dead? I had more fun playing the game itself. In a hot dog restaurant/arcade. That smelled like dirty diapers. With a broken gun. While killer bees made hives in my ears. Well, you get the idea. House of the Dead, the movie, was one of the worst cinematic experiences I've ever had. And I'm not alone in that feeling, because it is number 28 on the IMDB bottom 100.

I've acquired most of my recent Boll reading material from Joel, who seems to hold Mr. Boll in as high regard as I do. Joel pointed me to Nathan, who led me to this awesome review of Boll's latest effort, Alone in the Dark.

A horror movie about a video game. Sounds like something that was made just for me, right? Having been burnt by Uwe before, I greeted the news that he was directing this effort with skepticism. And when they announced Tara Reid and Stephen Dorff as the stars, I just shook my head in dismay. I knew where this was headed.

That's not really to disparage Dorff. I always liked the guy, though my interest in him may have more of an eye-candy angle than anything else. SFW, Judgment Night, Blade, Space Truckers...he made some great movies. Who could forget his turn as Glen in The Gate? How far his career has fallen, though, to appear in a video game-to-movie film directed by Boll. Didn't anyone in this movie see House of the Dead?

Well, we can forgive Tara Reid. I mean, where does someone go after becoming the poster girl for drunken wardrobe malfunctions? If you're going to kill what little career you already had, you may as well go down with a Boll bomb and really fuck yourself in a grand way.

As for Christian Slater (and the rest of the cast, really), the first panel here says it all:


Penny Arcade

Back to that Slant review that so many people have linked already:

Saying Uwe Boll's Alone in the Dark is better than his 2003 American debut House of the Dead--possibly the worst horror film of the past decade--is akin to praising syphilis for not being HIV.

Beautiful. But there's more. So much more. And you can find all the gems on this review page for Alone in the Dark at movies.com.

  • Chicago Tribune (1 star): [Reid's] performance as curator Aline Cedrac is horrific, with the diction of a moron, the expressiveness of a block of wood and the wardrobe of Streetwalker Barbie.
  • L.A. Daily News (1 1/2 stars): Painfully miscast as someone whose job requires intelligence, Reid plays museum curator Aline Cedrac..
  • San Francisco Chronicle: more of a drinking game than a movie, with scenes that are not only laughably bad but also repeat themselves
  • Variety: Uwe Boll should put down his joystick — quickly, before anyone else gets hurt.

Yet Boll keeps getting work - in the same genre. He's currently working on making a mockery of Bloodrayne, Hunter: The Reckoning and Far Cry.

That's three video game movies he's directing after destroying two already. What does this say about the movie industry when a man can make a career out of abject failure, where a guy whose skills are mocked by those he's supposed to be entertaining gets more work?

What, you ask, will Bloodrayne be like? Why, let's ask Boll himself!

The whole beginning of the movie, BloodRayne is like a freak in the circus, and people want to rape her, and she's like the attraction of the evening, and everybody in the arena of the circus is drunk and they throw her arms into water so the skin burns and then she must drink the blood of a goat [so] that she recovers… It's a big miracle that she recovers…


Penny Arcade

Is there anyone out there who admires Boll? I did a search for articles on him and came up with:

I do not doubt that director Uwe Boll is an excellent person with unique gifts, like making bird calls or some shit. But the stuff he does with movie cameras is a Goddamn war crime.

And this:
You're also working on 'BloodRayne,' another film with a great cast. How is that coming along? Very good. It is very dark, brutal and disturbing and not at all like a new superhero over the top piece like CATWOMAN or ELEKTRA.

This is where you instert the "polishing a turd" cliche.

Joel also pointed me to this unintenionally hilarious interview with Boll. Though my favorite part doesn't even contain a quote from Uwe:

TF: All the recent video game movies seem to be based on games currently popular. Since 1980's retro have become fashionable of late, how come nobody has yet to do any films based on some of the classic arcade games like Sinistar, Congo Bongo, Dig Dug, or Burgertime? I'm thinking there is a major kick ass, Die Hard-like kung fu film just waiting to be made out of Elevator Action. What do you think? (Foy: Boll left this particular question unanswered. Possibly because he realized it was a joke question or perhaps because he's already thinking the very same thing and was worried if he tipped us off then somebody out there might beat him to movie rights for Gorf.)

Which is what I was thinking all along, anyhow. What happens when Boll runs out of horror games to turn into inept movies? What if he moves on to, say, Animal Crossing? Or Super Monkey Ball? I can see it now - Crispin Glover. Paris Hilton. Primates gone wild!

I would start a petition or a grass movement or something, anything, to let the world know that Uwe Boll must be stopped, but apparently he's a deranged juggernaut that will just keep going and going and going because idiots keep handing him money hand over fist to make these pieces of crap. And you. Yea, you, who paid to see House of the Dead and Alone in the Dark. You should be ashamed of yourself. Just stop feeding Uwe Boll. Please, for the love of all that is good in the world of video game movies, stop making this man think he is good at what he does.

Oh, hell. It's too late. I'm just going to buy all these movies and play the Uwe Boll drinking game.


...for the love of all that is good in the world of video game movies
? Did I just say that? Is there really any such thing as good in that genre?

I smell a list in the making.

January 28, 2005

Song o' The Night - Get Up and Mosh Version

For those who actually stop by here on a Friday evening (because I know I'm not the only one sitting in front of the computer instead of engaging in debauchery), a song:

Prong - Snap Your Fingers, Snap Your Neck - mp3

This one always makes me get off my ass.

Can They Be Stopped??*

So I'm driving home from work, just minding my own business, when this boat of a car - I'm thinking '78 Cadillac - about 100 feet ahead of me starts drifting into my lane. This isn't your ordinary pull-into-my-lane-without-using-your-directional thing. No, it was a definite drift. I was about to lay on my horn when it drifted back the other way. Fine, just an accidental drift, then.

Five seconds later, it's back in my lane, but not quite. The car is straddling the yellow line between the two lanes. We're moving at a nice clip, about 50 in a 40, and I slow down a bit and pull back because I don't want some drunk old man in a Caddy sideswiping me. The Caddy slows down, too, and swerves all the way into my lane.

That's it. I lean on the horn. Normally, I'm not big on honking, but if it's winter and my windows are closed and you can't hear me screaming a string of nasty words at you, I'll just settle for loud, obnoxious beeping.

The brakes lights on the Caddy start blinking. The driver is stepping on and off the brakes and I don't know whether it's to annoy the hell out of me or because he's just a really bad driver. But I can't get into the next lane to get around it because of traffic. Besides, I need to make the turnoff right after the next light. So I'm stuck with the Caddy for a few more feet. I survive the next bout of brake lights and swerving - there was one moment when I thought the car was going to end up on the wrong side of the road - and I'm muttering death threats under my breath by the time the Caddy pulls into the turning lane for the Wal-Mart parking lot.

So we're stopped at a red light, the Caddy on the left, me on the right. I turn to look at this person who should be banned from every driving again. The first thing I notice is not the driver, but the massive pile of paper cups, bottles, cans and newspapers inside the car. It's like a mobile recycling center in there. I can see that some of the cups are dirty. I can also see on the front seat about four Poland Springs water bottles filled with a dark, yellow liquid. I shudder. I do not want to know what is in those bottles. My imagination tries to shout "It's piss, you idiot!" but I tell myself to shut up.

Finally, I look at the driver. I let out a small scream. It's woman. And she's fossilized. Or mummified. Or zombified. Whichever it is, she's clearly been dead for at least 100 years. The light turns green but I am still gaping at this...thing in the Caddy and as the car behind me beeps impatiently, the mummy/zombie turns her head slowly towards me and gives me the most evil, vile grin I have ever seen. A chill descends down my spine as I pull away from the Caddy.

As I drive away, I wonder what this world is coming to. First they give licenses to illegal immigrants and now they're giving them to the undead? When you start handing out driving permits to people whose business it is to kill you, you're walking a god damn slippery slope to the end of civilization. First, they lumbered after us. Then, they ran. Now, they're driving. I know these are politically correct times we're living in, but this is ridiculous. I'm writing my legislator today.

When there's no more room in hell, the zombies and mummies will take over our highways? I don't think so. I don't know about you, but I'm going to start carrying albums around in my car.

*which was the tagline to.....

Ninteen Years Ago Today

Speaking of time passing...

(repeat)

Nineteen years ago today, I was sitting in my parent's house (where I still lived) playing a full simulated season of Major League baseball on my Commodore 64 with some friends.

This is how the news appeared that day:

The American space shuttle, Challenger, has exploded killing all seven astronauts on board. The five men and two women - including the first civilian in space - were just over a minute into their flight from Cape Canaveral in Florida when the Challenger blew up.

The astronauts' families, at the airbase, and millions of Americans witnessed the world's worst space disaster live on TV.

The danger from falling debris prevented rescue boats reaching the scene for more than an hour.

In 25 years of space exploration seven people have died - today that total has been doubled.

President Ronald Reagan has described the tragedy as "a national loss".

The Challenger's flight, the 25th by a shuttle, had already been delayed because of bad weather. High winds, then icicles caused the launch to be postponed from 22 January.

But Nasa officials insist safety remains their top priority and there was no pressure to launch the shuttle today.

The shuttle crew was led by Commander Dick Scobee, 46. School teacher Christa McAuliffe, 37, married with two children, was to be the first civilian in space - picked from among 10,000 entries for a competition.

Speaking before the launch, she said: "One of the things I hope to bring back into the classroom is to make that connection with the students that they too are part of history, the space programme belongs to them and to try to bring them up with the space age."

President Reagan has put off his state of the union address. He was meeting senior aides in the Oval Office when he learned of the disaster.


We will never forget them

US President Ronald Reagan




He has called for an immediate inquiry into the disaster but he said the space programme would go on - in honour to the dead astronauts. Vice-President George Bush has been sent to Cape Canaveral to visit the victims' families.

This evening, the president went on national television to pay tribute to the courage and bravery of the seven astronauts.

He said: "We will never forget them, nor the last time we saw them this morning as they prepared for their journey and waved goodbye and slipped the surly bonds of earth to touch the face of God."

We weren't paying attention to the television. My mother, ever the space buff, was watching the launch. I heard her gasp. I looked up at the tv. I froze.

Nobody moved for a long time. Nobody spoke. It was one of the most horrifying, saddest moments of my life. To witness that, to see the flames and sparks and the smoke, and to know that you not only just watched people die, but you were witnessing a depressing piece of history - the moment was overwhelming. I have never forgotten it. I don't even need to watch the video because it is so firmly etched in my mind.

One of those where were you moments that seem to stand still in your mind forever.

Where were you?

More at Command Post

time keeps on slippin'.....

When I was pregnant with my daughter, a cousin said to me - Savor your time with your kid. It goes so fast. One day they're in diapers, the next they're in high school. And you'll have no idea where that time went. She teared up a little as she said it. I shrugged it off as a new-parent-advice cliche. Time was a leisurely thing. Back then, at the relatively young age of 28, life was moseying along at a good pace. How could having a child make things speed up? It couldn't! I thanked my relative for her advice and chalked up the tears to her having a melodramatic midlife crisis.

But, oh how right she was. Becoming a parent leaves you with mental changes to go with the physical. Along with sagging boobs and stretch marks comes a fundamental change in how you view the passage of time. It won't happen right away. It will just sneak up on you. One day you'll be standing there, just watching your kid smear Spaghettio's all over the high chair and you'll look at his face and exclaim "When did he stop being a baby? He's...he's...a little boy now!" And you weep just a little because that infancy stage went by so fast and you feel like you didn't grab it hard enough to hold onto any of it. You find yourself looking at pictures of your son as an infant and then looking right at him and wondering when the hell that change took place, because you've been with him the whole time and you don't remember him..growing...like that. Time has sped up. You're on fast-forward from here on in.

And then they go to pre-school and the normal calendar that you've been setting your life by this whole time goes out the window. Your year now goes from September to August instead of January to December. He's in kindergarten. First grade. He can read, write, make friends on his own. His face has changed so much you can't believe that photo of the kid in the high chair with the spaghetti sauce all over his face is actually your son. Where did the curly hair go? The pudgy cheeks?

And then he's playing baseball, making his first Communion, wearing a tuxedo to your sister's wedding and damn, he looks like a little man. But that can't be, because just yesterday he was laying on the living room floor with his binky in his mouth, clutching his stuffed animal and watching Barney. What? That wasn't yesterday? You could swear it was....

And then your daughter starts middle school and your head is spinning because you could swear that it was just a year ago that she was playing the recorder in the third grade concert. Three years ago? No way.

They're having parties and you look at their little friends when they come in your door and you think to yourself, isn't that Suzie from her Daisy troop? She's wearing make up? That little girl is wearing eye shadow? And your daughter reminds you that they are in eighth grade now and they're not little kids any more.

And then you're done with the elementary school. You've got one in the middle school and one in high school and every time you drive past the elementary school, you feel wistful and weepy even though you hated that principal and the school itself because your precious time is bottled up in that building, years and years of your children growing up and you wonder if you didn't just hit a time warp and got bumped into the future because there is no way all that time has passed already.

And then your daughter is talking about learning to drive and colleges and boyfriends and your son has a hint of mustache on his upper lip and you can practically hear the roaring sound as time wooshes right past you. Suddenly you're in one of those cartoons where the calendar pages go flying to mark the passing of time. Woosh, woosh, woosh, there goes five years in the blink of an eye.

Of course, one day you sit down to really think about all this and you realize you're having a melodramatic mid life crisis. You're in your 40's now. Half your life is gone. And half of half of that life was spent watching your kids hit the fast forward button. What's left? Graduations, weddings, grandkids, retirement community. Birth, school, work, death.

Ok, so that's the morose, hardened way of looking at it. There is a lot to look forward to. But it's kind of like autumn - I wait for that season all year because it's my favorite. The cool weather, the beautiful colors, I just love fall. Yet I feel like even if I spend all day long staring at the foliage, it's not going to be enough, because no matter how long I stare, no matter how many pictures I take, that particular moment when the yellow leaf goes spiraling down into the pile of red leaves in a spectacular ballet of nature, that moment will gone. Forever.

In two days, my son will be 12 years old. Two weeks after that, my daughter will turn 15. My kids will never be 11 and 14 again. I'll never be 40 again. I just wish there was a way to hold onto time a little tighter, to slow it down just a bit, or to go back in time and really pay attention to my relative who gave me the well meaning lecture on the passing of time. But even if we do savor every single moment, they still pass us by. We can't make time stand still and I certainly wouldn't want to. I just wish it would go a bit slower.

So, in honor of the birthdays of my children, I made a vow to myself to not write about them here anymore, unless it's to remark on a particular achievement of theirs. When I started this blog, they were little kids. They're not that anymore, and it's not right for me to put on display all those goofy stories where anyone can find them, even if by accident. What's in the archives stays in the archives, but putting a story on the front page about my son wearing a dress is no longer an option. They gave me four years of blogging fodder, four years of things that are funny when you're eight, but embarrassing when you're twelve.

They were just little kids when I started this. A lot can happen in four years, and it happens with a woosh.

In the midst of my mid life crisis, I'd like to offer this piece of advice to those of you with small children:

Savor your time with your kid. It goes so fast. One day they're in diapers, the next they're in high school. And you'll have no idea where that time went.

Melodramatic, but true.

January 27, 2005

More Stupid Parenting Stories

Keeping sort of on topic....

I was going through all the old Raising Hell stuff I have saved on my computer (a now defunct group blog about crazy parents) and came across a few more stories about my kids and all things sex. I'm posting them more for posterity than anything else - I'd like to eventually get all my RH archives back up on the web again.

So here's one starring DJ and a dress (from May, 2002):

Dude Looks Like a Lady

Yesterday, I caught DJ trying on Natalie's makeup. He stood in front of the mirror, grinning and looking a bit Christina Aguliera.

So this reminded me of a couple of years ago, when DJ was about 7 years old. Natalie had taken DJ into the bathroom to "help him brush his teeth." Fifteen minutes later, they were still in there. I know you should never disturb children who are playing quietly, but this wasn't a nice kind of quiet coming from the bathroom. It was conspiratory. Hushed giggles and whispers made me open the bathroom door in a hurry, expecting to find them filling the bathtub with shampoo or wrapping each other in gauze tape.

And there was DJ, looking for all the world like the second daughter I never had. He was wearing one of Natalie's old sundresses, her flowered flip-flops and he had a zillion colored clips in his hair. And he was sporting more make up than Tammy Faye Baker at a Mary Kay convention.

They were both grinning, as if this was some masterpiece I should be proud of. So I played along. I called him Danielle instead of Daniel and he ran around the house, belting out Ethel Merman Broadway tunes and asking to have his nails done.

Justin and I watched with amazement. When Justin had enough of seeing his future stepson prancing around in a dress, he called an end to the game. DJ wouldn't oblige. He wanted to leave the dress on. He let Justin wash his make up off and take the clips out of his hair, but he would not part with the dress. Not even at bedtime.

We thought about letting him sleep in it, but it was becoming not an issue about the dress, but about DJ listening to us.

"Take the dress off," Justin said.
"No! It feels good!"
"Take it off!"
"NOOOOO!"
"Ok," said Justin. "Suit yourself. Just don't come crying to me in the morning?"
"Huh?"
"Well, if you sleep in the dress, when you wake up your penis will be gone."
blink
Dress off. Superman pajamas on.

I'll tell that story to his future girlfriend some day.

an open thread on oral sex

Write a post with the words "oral sex" in it and you'll get some very interesting email. Reading and responding has prompted me to offer this quick and dirty little survey (for both sexes), just out of curiosity:

Oral sex - both giving and receiving - : good, bad or indifferent?

Feel free to discuss at length. I'm going to drown myself in Tylenol Cold and DayQuil, so the place is yours for a while.

This time, it's personal (another movie survey)

It's yet another movie thread.

A few days ago I thought of a movie I haven't seen in many, many years. It was a tv movie that starred Stockard Channing as a woman who gets plastic surgery to become beautiful and then goes around killing everyone who picked on her when she was an ugly duckling in college.

The Girl Most Likely To was not only one of the best black comedies I have ever seen, but also one of the best revenge movies out there.

So, simple question: What's your favorite revenge movie?

sex talk and a song

I'm working on the rest of those answers, all of which will come today, none of which anyone really cares about, but which I am obligated to answer, even if some of those answers will get me into trouble.

Meanwhile, I had two requests. The first person asked if I had a mp3 of the song I linked to in the post below. Why, yes. I do. Here it is:

Brand New - Sic Transit Gloria - mp3.

Lyrics.

The other request came from someone who thought that, in light of both the post below and the celebration of ASV's fourth anniversary, that I should repeat some of the posts in which I had conversations with my kids about sex.

Ok, filler on a busy day works just fine for me.

I know there's more, can't think of them offhand. But enjoy these if you haven't already read them.

Back with the other stuff later.

TV 101: katie teaches you what you should already know

Well, damn. I missed Katie Couric's special on blowjobs last night. I really meant to watch it, because I so depend on television personalities to tell me what my kids are thinking in regards to sex and how to talk to them about it.

Couric became passionate about the subject after hearing "horror stories" of teens having sex at early ages and wanted teens, parents and experts to weigh in.

So what was the point of Katie's sex show? To bring these kids to the forefront and show all the other teens who are not aware of "friends with benefits" what they're missing?

"I think that society is so sexualized from the time these kids are small, they're quite comfortable.."

Isn't Katie just adding to the sexualization of society by bringing these teens on national television to talk about their sexploits? Oh, she's doing it under the guise of something newsworthy or educational.

Here's your education: Kids are having sex. Oral sex, intercourse, hand jobs, whatever. Call it hooking up, call it friends with benefits, whatever name you give to it, they are doing it. And they've been doing it. 30 years ago, when I was barely a teenager, I knew people who were doing it. And who was to blame then that my 13 year old neighbor was sleeping with every guy in town or my 7th grade classmate was giving out blowjobs in the back of the music class? We didn't have MTV. We didn't have reality tv. They weren't handing out condoms in school.

Yet put that same 13 year old or 7th grader in 2005 and immediately, today's raunch-prevalent, sex-soaked society would be blamed for their promiscuousness.

The only people responsible for the way a teenager perceives sex is the parents. The school district, while it may offer sex ed, should not be the sole educator to your child in regards to sex. I honestly believe - and I know some of you will call me naive - that if you keep an open avenue of communication with your child in regards to this subject, your child will not take a course of action that will cheapen them or cause regrets or pain or disease or pregnancy.

Peer pressure is an intense thing. Which is why you need to instill in your children a strong enough sense of themselves so they grow up believing they never have to exchange sex for popularity, that they never have to give up a kiss, a stroke, a hand up the shirt just prove their loyalty to someone who is going to dump them in a week's time, anyhow. It's so much more than teaching them about sex; it's about teaching them self respect.

What is Katie Couric going to do besides make you recoil in horror when you see a hand-chosen group of teens talking about hooking up with someone just for sex? It's titillating news. Shock tv. Don't let her panic you. I remember when Oprah tackled a similar subject a few years ago, when my daughter was in middle school. According to Oprah's experts, middle school girls were notoriously loose. In fact, they were nothing more than oral sex machines and you can find them behind any coat rack or music stand in the school, sucking dick for lunch money and/or friendship. A nation reeled. Parents panicked. School administrators sent a flurry of letters home assuring everyone that this was not going on in their school, despite the fact that Oprah's guests made it sound like just because it was going on in their particular town, it was going on everywhere, as if some evil force took over the minds of our 13 year olds and no one - not one single teenager - was immune to it.

Even if my daughter had, at that age, signified that she knew about oral sex (which she obviously didn't), I don't think I would have let her go on tv to discuss it. Oh look, honey. Our daughter is on a national news show talking about blow jobs! Call the neighbors!

My daughter will be 15 in two weeks. I am not an idiot. I know that as she gets older, the urges and curiosity will be there. That's why we have an open line of communication when it comes to sex. We talk about it. She asks questions, I answer honestly, and she knows she can come to me about anything and I'll do my damndest not to freak out on her. But I will educate her, as I have been doing since she first asked about sex when she was five years old.

And here's the shocker: I'm taking the abstinence route with her. Why? Because I'm her mother, that's why, and I don't want to tell my daughter it's ok to have sex as long as she practices safe sex. You can put a condom on a penis, but there's nothing to prevent the emotional ramifications that come from having sexual relations too early.

While she is educated in the field of sexual protection - because I am not naive and I know that despite my declaration that a high school kid should not be having sex, they do - there is just no preparation for what comes when you give yourself up to a person for the first time. And I don't think that at 15 my daughter is ready to determine that the boy she is currently seeing is the one she wants to give it up for. Sex is not just about sticking a penis in a vagina. There's a whole host of non-physical issues that go with it and to send your teenager out there armed with condoms and an awareness of STDs may keep them from getting pregnant or the clap, but it won't keep them from having their heart and/or spirit broken. It won't keep them from spending years beating themselves up for losing their virginity to a person they cared nothing about.

I've written about this before. Last time, I wrote:

Self-worth is sometimes all one has. To have that taken away, little by little, just so some boy who was never taught by his parents to respect girls can have a few moments of orgasmic bliss is a very sad thing.

It does work both ways. Girls can be pushy. Girls can be brazen. Girls can make boys feel as if they are worthless because they don't want to try out the latest sexual fad.

So I'm suggesting - not preaching - abstinence to both my children on the grounds that, while it may feel like you are physically ready to have sex, and you are well prepared as far as transmitting fluids go, your brain and your heart are not ready for it. There is no 13, 14, or even 17 year old who is mature enough handle the emotional baggage that comes with sharing oneself so intimately and physically with another person.

I don't look to experts on television to tell me what's going on my teenager's life. I know. I know because we talk openly and honestly. That is the key to feeling assured that your children will do the right thing. That they are doing the right thing, despite Katie and Oprah's attempts to shock me into believing otherwise.

I know that many of you will, as in the past, disagree with many of the ideas put forth here - if you do, that's fine. But please try to explain to me without being condescending why you think your tactic for your kids will work better than mine.

Update:

From the comments:

Therefore, oral sex as a substitution for intercourse is a good idea....

I wholeheartedly disagree with oral sex as substitution. In fact, it may be more detrimental to a girl's self image than intercourse is. What does a girl - especially a 13 year old girl - get out of a blowjob? Nothing, except the idea that she has served a boy. There's certainly no physical gratifcation in it for her. And emotionally, at that age, she will eventually see herself as an end to a means for the boy she is going down on. If you think oral sex is a good substitute for fucking, then you missed my point on emotional readiness.

January 26, 2005

random movie quote of the day

Someone is either a smoker or a non-smoker, there's no in-between. The trick is to find out which one you are and be that.

From one of my all time favorite movies.

the /impending violence diary, day 13

I was going to get around to those other questions today. And I had a couple of other things on the fire as well.

However, I am in the foulest of foul moods. Ever have one of those days where you take every thing said to you as insult, or where you're just waiting for someone to cut you off or look at you wrong so you have an excuse to whip out your Swiss army knife and twist the corkscrew into their eyes?

I want a cigarette so bad my hands are shaking and the only thing I want to do with my hands right now, if not grab a cigarette, is wrap them around the throat of the closest avialable asshole. And seeing as this guy is 3,000 miles away, I'll have to find another idiot to choke. Or just stay at my desk until this mood passes over.

If I was an asshole to you today - and chances are good that if you emailed me or left a comment I was - I apologize. I really thought the cravings would be gone by now, but today's jonesing is the worst it's been in the nearly two weeks since I quit. And I'm taking it out on anyone who steps into my space today.

So this would be a good time to leave work, go home, put on some comfortable clothes, curl up on the couch and make love to the remote for several hours. By make love, I mean push its buttons. Whatever. Computer is off until Idol time. Because I can't be trusted at the keyboard right now.

I certainly can't be trusted at 7-11. So I'll be going straight home instead of stopping off to get a comforting 24 oz. hot chocolate/blueberry coffee combo. Which will make me sad. It's a vicious cycle. My lungs better be really fucking thankful for this.

Perfect Endings (Filler Survey)

I'll get around to answering the rest of the questions a little later - lots of work on the desk today.

Meanwhile, a survey on a topic that caused a heated discussion with a friend last night:

Simply - Best Movie Ending, ever. Feel free to justify your choice.

And if you read the comments, you take the risk of having a movie ruined for you. I don't want to hear any complaints about that. It should be obvious that a survey about movie endings will have....movie endings in it.

The Latter Day Confessions of a Teenage Witch

When I was 13 I believed I was a witch.

I was in junior high school, just starting to come out of a misfit stage and finally feeling welcomed by the "cool" kids. Having actual friends - this was a new thing for me and I treaded very carefully, making sure not to step on any toes or say the wrong thing or wear the wrong band shirt. I was, after all, a people pleaser. And there was no one I wanted to please more than Kymber (don't call me Kymberly) and Donna.

Our school budget had failed to pass a vote that year, so we were on austerity, which meant walking the mile and a half to school every day. This is how I got to be friends with Kymber and Donna. Our paths would cross at the same intersection every day and one of those days, Donna started talking to me while we were waiting for the light to change. By the end of the week, they had let me into their little circle - I was even invited over to Donna's house to hang out on a Friday night. Big time. I had made the big time.

Truth is, I didn't even like Donna or Kymber. I thought they were obnoxious. I didn't like the way they flipped their hair constantly or openly flirted with boys who had no chance in hell with them. They were cruel, as 13 year old girls can be, but they weren't being cruel to me, and that was key if I was going to finally shake the misfit monkey off my back. I struggled with this and even lost sleep over it. Was it worth it to hang out with people I loathed just to keep from being loathed myself? At the time, the moral sacrifice was worth it.

So I mingled with the in crowd and they dressed me and made me over and turned me into one of them, completely - a Stepford friend. But I was enjoying school, enjoying life in general and this whole thing was a real slap in the ugly face to my neighbor and former friend Lori, who in sixth grade told me that while she would hang out with me at home, she couldn't be seen with me at school. That changed in seventh grade, didn't it? Lori was practically begging to be let back into my life now that I was her social better. But I told the girls what Lori had said to me in sixth grade and they shunned her. They shunned her for me. They had my back. Wow. Heady days.

I had a nemesis in those days. Her name was Susan. I had gone to grade school with Susan and she was one of those kids that my mother tried to force me to be friends with because she was "such a nice girl, from a nice family." I didn't like Susan because she made fun of my clothes, stole my milk and stealthily tied my sneaker to the leg of my chair one day. While I was wearing it. One day my mother forced a "play date" with Susan and her next door neighbor Stacy and I had to go over her house and eat her mother's disgusting tuna sandwiches with onions and celery and then sit and watch as Susan and Stacy did each other's hair and whispered and giggled while I silently plotted each of their deaths. The next day Susan told everyone that I forced my way into her house and demanded that she play with me.

When I became friends with Donna and Kymber, Susan was livid. She wanted to be friends with them. She wanted to hang out on Kymber's porch while Donna highlighted her hair with lemon juice. She wanted to be me. Hah. What's that saying? Turnabout is fair play? Susan's envious misery was my salvation.

Susan would not let it go. Desperate to oust me from the in crowd so she could take my place, Susan started rumors about me. She told Kymber and Donna that I wet my pants when I was over her house. She told them that I picked my nose and ate it. Totally uncreative rumors, stories you would tell in third grade, not seventh.

One day we were walking to school and Donna brought up the Susan rumors. I explained that Susan had it in for me since grade school and she was just making up stories to get everyone to hate me. Kymber just nodded, as if she was contemplating all the rumors, thinking they just might be true. I started to seethe. Susan was once again going to destroy my life. I muttered aloud the first thing that came to mind: "I hope she dies."

Fifteen minutes later we stood at the intersection of two main roads. We were headed north. The east/west road was a six lane highway, normally busy with morning commute traffic. Today, there were no cars coming from the west. We looked down the street and could see flares and a road block set up. There were ambulances and lots of wailing sirens. Ah, another accident. Common for this road. We crossed the street and headed towards the school. As we got onto the school grounds, we could tell something was going on. There was a nervous buzz amid the usual morning chatter.

Did you hear? Do you know? Oh my god, I can't believe it! Those ambulances and sirens? Susan was hit by a car on her way to school. The story was flying around the building, gaining momentum, and by the time we got to home room Susan had not been hit by a car, but a huge truck, and she flew about 100 feet in the air, tumbled at least forty times and then landed smack on top of the truck's hood, then fell to the ground.

I felt sick to my stomach. I knew how these stories could get out of hand, so I comforted myself with the knowledge that this was all nothing more than embellishment and Susan would walk into school the next day with a cast on her arm and maybe a limp.

During third period, they made the announcement. Susan had died. The whole thing - big truck, flying in the air - was true. I asked for the bathroom pass and spent the rest of the period dry heaving into the toilet bowl. I killed Susan.

The remainder of the day was spent in self loathing. And hiding. I avoided Donna and Kymber because they heard me mutter my death wish upon Susan. I went to the nurses's office during fourth period and my mother picked me up from school, certain that I was just devastated over the death of my "friend" Susan.

I couldn't sleep that night. In my 13 year old mind, I had really caused Susan's death. I hope she dies. I kept hearing those words - in my voice - over and over again. I was a witch. There was no other explanation. I had witch powers. I could make people die.

I went back into loner mode. I kept my head down, avoided contact with anyone and certainly avoided saying anything. I didn't want to accidently cause another death or even the maiming of a teacher or classmate.

My mother forced me to go to Susan's wake. I stood in the back of the room and watched her parents cry. I watched her friends and relatives file past the closed coffin. I so was consumed with my own selfish feelings of guilt and remorse at having killed Susan that I didn't even feel sympathy pains for all the mourners who were part of Susan's life. Every time I looked at Susan's mother, I would say to myself I killed your daughter, I killed your daughter. I worried that I would lose any grip I still had on my sanity and start shouting those words out loud, turning the wake into some melodramatic movie of the week.

I walked out of the funeral home, needing some fresh air and an escape from the cloying closeness of the viewing room. I walked smack into Donna and Kymber. I hadn't talked to them since the announcement was made that Susan was dead. I waited. Waited for them to point accusatory fingers at me and shout "she's a witch, burn her!" Instead, Donna just said "This is kinda awkward for you I guess." I stared. What exactly did she mean by that? "I mean," she continued, "she was such a creep to you and now you have to go her funeral. Ugh." Kymber pulled a cigarette out of her pocketbook, a bent, half-crushed Marlboro she stole from her older brother. "Let's go smoke."

We walked a few paces up and stood in the doorway of a biker bar. We took turns taking deep drags on the cigarette and blowing smoke rings. Kymber french inhaled, a trick she learned from her brother's girlfriend, which I thought was gross. Feeling comfortable for the first time in days, I finally let out what I had been holding onto. "Do you think I killed her?" Donna and Kymber both looked at me like I was crazy. "What? She was hit by a car, dope. How could you have killed her?" Donna was laughing at me. I recalled the conversation when I wished her dead. "Oh please," Kymber said. "I wish my stepmother dead every day and so far, nothing."

"Yea, but I wished Susan dead and ten minutes later, she was."
"Uh, hello? When we got to the corner, the ambulances were already there. So she had to have been hit before you wished her dead."
She was right. Susan, according to my parents and other experts on children being hit by cars, was probably dead way before she hit the ground. Meaning, she was most likely dead before I uttered my horrid words.
"Just a coincidence, then," Kymber said.
"Yea, coincidence."

They started laughing, snickering at first, then bellowing with the kind of laughter that makes your stomach hurt, makes tears well up in your eyes. They were, of course, laughing at me. Not with me. Donna managed to gasp out a last sentence before I left them - "I told you she's an idiot."

I turned from them and started walking home. My house was just a few blocks away and I broke into a jog at the last block, eager to get into my room, get out of those funeral clothes and cry.

And I did. I cried out of relief that my words did not kill Susan. I cried because a 13 year old kid was dead and her parents would never see her again. I cried because my days with Kymber and Donna and the in crowd were over. I cried because I let myself be fooled into thinking they really liked me. But mostly I cried because at the age of 13 I felt that death's claw of mortality. We would all die eventually, whether anyone wished it on us or not. I laid awake for hours that night, wondering when it would be my turn and how I would go. I hoped it wouldn't be like Susan. When I said my prayers much later into the night, I prayed that I wouldn't die fifty feet in the air, in the midst of a spiral towards the sidewalk.

The next week my parents announced that I would be leaving my junior high school at the end of the year and transferring to the Catholic school. I put up a fight because they expected me to, but I was mostly glad to get out of there, away from the Donnas and Kymbers, away from the specter of Susan.

Of course, that specter never went away. I still think about her all the time and I'm still sorry that I wished her dead. Just one of those things I have to live with.

--------------------------

I dreamed about Susan last night, which is what prompted me to write this today. I've never told anyone this story and I've been harboring a sort of guilt over it for over 30 years now. I know my words had no effect on what happened to Susan, but I still feel awful for saying them.

The story is entirely true; only the names have been changed.

January 25, 2005

Idol Chatter

Ok, you American Idol freaks. Talk about the show over here.

It's ok - you can leave a fake name in the comments so no one has to know you're watching. I won't even trace your IP and shove you out of the AI closet or anything.

Guitar Hero

A few people have asked for an update on DJ's progress in the guitar god business.

Here he is doing Pantera's Cowboys From Hell. He's even got the Dimebag strings on the guitar.

cfh.jpg
click image for movie

(It's a big file, but worth it. Humor me, ok? And you can't see him too well, but it's all about the sound, anyhow. And please keep in mind that he's only 11, so go easy on the critiquing)

[I also updated the Q&A post below]

Q & A Part II - Updated- 3

Questions here.

[I'll keep adding the answers here, rather than making a zillion different posts]

Why does long islanders need to stock up on so much milk when they hear snow is on the way?

I already addressed this in The Legend of Milk, Bread and Snowstorms

Now that I'm [Allah] retired, who has the most overrated blog in the 'sphere? The most overrated humor blog? Which blogger would most benefit from a thorough ass-kicking?

Overrated.
Overrated humor Ok, so it's not exactly humor, but it's overrated in the way that platform shoes are passe.
Ass kicking. He knows why.

Can I disagree with Hugh Hewitt without having to forfeit my blogger's guild card?

Disagree with him, yes. But you'll have to make up for it by spending your next three blog posts sucking his dick. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

If Glenn is right and blogs operate as one big newspaper, how come there were 800 separate death notices for Johnny Carson on our collective obit page on Sunday night?

Think of it as grade school. We believe in giving all of our children an equal chance to have their unique voice heard. So on any given day, you may find 300 pieces on the same story. But look at the way Johnny colored outside those lines - and Janey used blue for the sky while Katie used green! We're snowflakes, darling. Special, unique snowflakes. Go on, catch me on your tongue.

[I think I dodged some, but not all of those]

More on the way. Check back, if you dare.

------

More:

What's the name of that actor that everyone's always asking about when they say, "You know, that guy, the one in that movie that one time?" I refuse to believe that it's Kevin Bacon. Too obvious.
It's actually two actors. Eric Roberts and Michael Madsen. I gaurantee you that if you flip through all your cable channels right now, you will find either of them in at least one movie. Maybe even together.
1. Do you support the "Pave France" initiative?

2. When snow melts, where does the white go?

3. Does mincemeat come from gay cows?

4. What videogames do you find to be the most sublime, and why?

5. Is there reincarnation? If so, what has Billy Martin come back as?

1. No, because I'd hate to think that I'll have to spend the rest of my life saying things like Freedom Fries and Freedom Toast.

2. The white color is actually sucked out of the snow by smog. The smog then carries the whiteness all around the globe, sprinkling it over maternity wards in hospitals. And that's how white babies are made.

3. I have no idea, but when I did a GIS for gay cow, this is what I got. And I cannot improve on that.

gay_cow.jpg

4. I'll answer that in full later. Too much to write.

5. Well, I can't say for sure. But if there is, Billy Martin came back as a boil on Steinbrenner's ass.

More later.

------
As a married woman, at what point do you consider some guy flirting with you as crossing the line? Let's assume he's not married, and you find him at least marginally attractive.

When he shows up on my doorstep wearing nothing but an overcoat and a g-string, holding a rusty butcher knife.

Under what circumstances is it okay to raise the dead?

Only for good. Like when you miss your dead, dancing monkey. Even then, nothing good ever comes of that.

---

What is the best thing you have ever seen?

Monkeys at the zoo flinging feces at each other. Because, until you see that, you think it's just an old and tired cliche. And when you see it up close and happening for real, you get a strange sense of satisfaction in that not everything your older cousin tells you is a lie. They really do fling feces. That's just awesome.

bq, Why is Scrubs constantly shut out at the Emmys? Lingering resentment over Dream On?

I never watched Scrubs because I heard it's just a warmed over version of Dream On. So, yea.

That was the best show HBO ever had.

You didn't really like "Napoleon Dynamite," did you? You only liked it in a pomo, something-ironic-is-going-on-and-that-in-itself-is-good way, right?

I liked it. Really, really liked it. So much so that I bought a llama, started taking cage fighting lessons and adopted a Liger. And I would fuck Napoleon HARD. Pedro, too. Teach those Mormon boys a few things about how the outside world lives. Yea.

Really, I just liked the movie for what it was.

What do you REALLY think of me? (asked by Acidman)

I think you are brutally honest and that's something I admire in a person, even when that brutal honesty is aimed at me. You're a cantankerous hardass. You're a Timex watch. I don't hate you.

For Calvin and Hobbes Fans

This is AWESOME. BRILLIANT, even.

Via Igawana

Q & A, Walk Into The Fire (Updated)

Well, I have no one but myself to blame. I thought everyone would be, you know, nice, and not hold my feet over the fire. But that's ok. Some day the burning foot will be on the other, err..shoe. Or something.

So, let's get this anniversary party started. Just go back to the original post to see who asked what.

If money wasn't an issue, what would be your top five vacation spots (US Only)? why?

Disney World, because I will never, ever get enough of the happiest place on earth.
Tampa, to visit some friends
D.C., to spend a few days in the Smithsonian
Cleveland, to go to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame
Green Bay, specifically Lambeau Field

I'm not much of a traveling/vacation person.

What is best in life?

Guinness and cold pizza

This one probably counts as a FAQ by now, but (no snobbery intended or implied): Why no Beatles in the Top 500? Is it a "Just don't like 'em" kind of thing, or are there other motivations?

I once sent Ringo a marriage proposal made out of macaroni art. He never answered me. I threw out all my Beatles albums and turned to a life of heavy metal and petty crime. I haven't looked back since.

2. Have you watched any of the other Salad Fingers bits besides Spoons?

I watched Episode 5 - Picnic - and was mildly disturbed to see a Google ad for crab salad on the page. My tummybox feels broken!

None of my Freshman Comp students recognized the lines, "Who's tripping down the streets of the city/ Smiling at everybody she sees?" Should I kill them?

You should kill them just because it's not fair that they will never, ever have that song stuck in their heads the way I do now. On second thought, I should kill you. And bury you in a shallow grave of cement on which I will write, Everyone knows it's Windy!

I'll blame Salad Fingers.

More later.

----

(Later...)

What does the Voynich manuscript really say?

voynich1.jpg

Now, that, I got me some Seagram's gin
Everybody got they cups, but they ain't chipped in
Now this types of shit, happens all the time
You got to get yours but fool I gotta get mine
Everything is fine when you listenin to the D-O-G
I got the cultivating music that be captivating he
who listens, to the words that I speak
As I take me a drink to the middle of the street

Aight.

the anniversary party: Q & A

In honor of ASV's fourth anniversary (for which I was supposed to have an extravaganza of sort, but keep forgetting) and due to the fact that I have to go to some training thing momentarily and I'll need something to keep me from falling into a coma when I get back, I'm going to have an ASV Q&A session.

I figure that for four years, you and many others have been reading this site daily or so, commenting, emailing, sending links, and making this mostly enjoyable for me. So I'll do something for you.

Go ahead, ask me anything. Ask me Not necessarily about me, though any and all quesitons will be answered, even personal ones. I'm here for you. I'll give you advice. I'll cure your skin rashes. I'll help you complete that recipe. I'll help you with your geography homework. I'll teach you how to do a perfect handstand.

The only caveat is that this offer is only open until 2pm, unless I decide otherwise, or unless no one has anything to ask of me.

I'm just giving back to the community. Because your life is not complete without finding out the answers to the useless trivia questions rattling around your brain.

Answers to your questions may come in the form of lies, tall tales and unverifiable information. By asking a question, you are granting me immunity from lawsuits resulting in your taking my recipe for gasoline cake seriously, etc. All personal information given out as the result of personal questions being asked may or may not be true.

Obvious: put questions in the comments.

the diary, day 12
Blizzard Edition

By the numbers:

  • Number of days spent inside house: 3
  • Number of waking hours where there wasn't an offspring's friend in the house: 0
  • Number of mugs of hot chocolate made: 26
  • Number of times I yelled "Shut the front door, you're letting all the heat out": 12
  • Number of times I mopped up puddles of melted snow from the front hallway and kitchen: at leat 15
  • Number of times I put clothes that did not belong to my children in the dryer: 5
  • Number of gloves lent out that I won't get back: 3
  • Number of times I had to listen to a guitar/screeching vocal duet of "This Photograph is Proof": 20? 235? I stopped counting at some point.
  • Number of times I had to listen to Salad Fingers: Enough to be able to recite it by heart
  • Number of meals fed to children not my own: dozens
  • Number of cigarettes craved: 6,000
  • Number of cigarettes smoked: NONE

I am so proud of me.

And I've developed a crush on Salad Fingers.

oscar, oscar, oscar* [Updated]

It happens every January. I get all excited for the Oscar announcements, and then I realize that I haven't seen any of the movies that are likely to get nominations. This is a recent trend; years ago I used to watch the Academy Awards ritualistically - TV Guide ballot in hand, my heart racing in anticipation of my favorite movie winning a coveted statue.

That was a long time ago, when the movies I liked were the movies Hollywood liked. I wonder what happened? Has my taste in movies changed or has the snobbery of the Academy reached a crescendo, so that the kind of films I enjoy no longer have a chance of winning anything but a Razzie?

Granted, I don't go to the movies that much anymore - the cost is too prohibitive - but I do buy DVDs of good movies the day they come out (I'm going to write a poem called Tuesdays You Will Find Me At Best Buy) and I manage to see plenty of movies in a manner that requires me to not reveal it, lest the Feds come banging down my door, demanding my cable modem.

The word on the street is the following movies will receive several Oscar nominations: Ray, The Aviator, Million Dollar Baby, Finding Neverland and Sideways.

I've seen none of those movies. It's not that I don't want to - it's just that most of my movie theater money goes towards films we see as a family, and none of those would get the necessary unamimous vote needed in order to make the $500 investment in tickets, food, etc. Ok, so maybe I only want to see one of those movies. If there's an opposite phrase for movie snob, that would be me. Tasteless? Low brow?

So the Oscars mean nothing to me except a chance to see a few wardrobe malfunctions and the hope that one of the presenters will show up drunk and offer up some quality television time.

I miss my TV Guide ballot. I miss being able to check off movies that I watched from the back of dad's station wagon at the Westbury Drive-In. I miss having friends gathered in my bedroom, fingers crossed, hoping against hope that Rocky wins every award it's up for, even the technical ones.

Now, I just shrug and wonder when half the nominated movies actually were showing in a theater. I don't remember ever seeing Million Dollar Baby on the MegaPlex marquee - but I don't think the Academy really cares for MegaPlex quality movies. Too bad, they're missing out on some quality films.

In a perfect world (well, my perfect world), the ballot would have all these movies listed:

Dawn of the Dead, Napoleon Dynamite, Shaun of the Dead, Mean Girls, Shrek 2, The Incredibles, Spider-Man 2, Team America, Lemony Snicket.

Oh, I know what you're thinking. But honestly, Princess Diaries 2 just fell flat for me. I can't in good faith put it on my list.

You're also thinking that I need to get out more. Or refine my tastes, adopt a little culture in my life. I get plenty of culture, thank you. In fact, we watched the entire I, Claudius box set in 2004. If that's not culture, I don't know what is.

And I can say with pride that this year, none o