Lord help me, I'm actually watching the Academy Awards. A summary to this point (it's just about 10:00pm):

-I want to slap Billy Crystal.
-LOTR: RotK so far is batting a thousand. How...dull.*
-I couldn't tell you what any of the acceptance speeches are like, because I've been switching to The Fugitive when the winners start to talk. Who cares?
-I really want to slap Billy Crystal.
-Why is Peter Jackson dressed like a flood victim? Isn't he rolling in cash now? Jesus, man. Armani, motherfucker! You're giving fat guys a bad name in that outfit!
-Hey, tribute to Blake Edwards. I can get behind that.

And the most revelatory thing from tonight's show: Liv Tyler has confirmed my glasses fetish, without question. (Speaking of Liv, is she "exceptional" or what? I was waiting for her to start drooling on herself.)

*You know, I have nothing against Tolkien or LotR, but seeing a movie sweep the Oscars really removes the drama from the evening, especially when I have this deep down feeling that the movie isn't worthy of all of its accolades. (Full-disclosure: I haven't seen the movie, or any of the trilogy, yet. I don't see many movies, period. I think I saw four last year, maybe five. I do intend to see the Trilogy, probably buying the deluxe trilogy DVD set when it is eventually released. But I have to say, the movie has the "taint." That is, its rabid supporters have nearly removed any desire to see this movie. If I have to suffer one more "Omigod, you haven't seen it? You're kidding me!" I just might smack the shit out of someone, possibly Jackson. He deserves a boot to the ass for the way he's dressed tonight, anyway. He looks like a less flamboyant Bruce Vilanch.)

Please help. It's a noble cause. (NOTE: Not safe for work. And act now; you know how fast these auctions disappear.)

Your monkey technique is impressive, but can you defeat my Rummy Style?

Today's (that would be the 21st) Get Fuzzy is hilarious based on one simple phrase that is now going to be part of my vocabulary: Chubby Sanctioned. Oh, the myriad uses!

In other news, JG and I went to see the American University men's basketball team beat arch-nemesis Holy Cross tonight. It was a solid, low-scoring affair. The truly noteworthy items from the evening:

-"You wear purple!" Worst chant ever, delivered by the Delta Gamma sorority, who didn't know well enough to let it die when nobody else would join in.

-"The Weinstein Cowboy" Some guy who made Woody Allen look like Charles Bronson wearing a cowboy hat. This is an offense similar to Homer wearing the rasta hat (in Homerpalooza). Only certain (read: manly and rugged) guys should be allowed to wear cowboy hats. Not some future tax attorney. Fuckin' cretin.

-"You're all devaluing my degree!" Goddamn, speaking of cretins, the place was fat-packed with them. Of course, I have no use for my degree (now, and probably in the future) and I didn't really invest much (well, from an academic standpoint, anyway), so it's not actually devaluing *my* degree. But I feel bad for my peoples here. Luckily, they got their MA on, so it's not much of a loss to them, anyway.

-Despite that indictment of the student body as a whole, the women there were off the chart. Ridiculous. Gott in himmel!

-"We were invited! Punch was served! Ask Poland!"

-JG, as I type this, is probably STILL on his way home, because sections of both the Red line and Blue/Yellow lines going in his direction were operating on one-track. Poor bastard. At least he has his leftover burger to keep him from resorting to cannibalism, should the train get stuck.

That's the evening. Other items from today include finding out that my trip (to see good friends) to Austin, TX in April will now be a trip to Salt Lake City. In the year of the monkey, Damian Vegas gets banned from a state for the first time. Damn. Plus, I'm watching Short Circuit on HBO right now. "No disassemble Johnny-5!"

Yet another celebrity blacker than Wayne Brady. The story behind this picture can be found here. (Via Scrubbles)

"Huh? What is this crap?"
"Fox Corporation: down 10."

It's very scary when Fox is able to make itself look more ridiculous than The Simpsons ever could. Of course, I'm talking about new reality TV show, The Littlest Groom. (On principle, I cannot link to the show. However, in this case, the principle is laziness.)

I just watched the opening to the first episode and I had to change it. This is basically The Bachelor for little people, but with a "shocking" twist. After a certain number of eliminations, they add three more women who are NOT little. Uh oh! What will The Littlest Groom do? Will he "sell-out" and pick one of the taller women, or will he represent for little people the world over and not turn his back on the little women?

Allegedly, this is compelling television. I just don't understand how this made it on the air. And I don't say that because I don't believe little people should have a show of their own. Generally speaking, I don't understand how any of the reality TV shows make it on the air. But honestly, was there a strong push from the little people community to have their own show? Somehow, I doubt it. I could be mistaken, but given Fox's track record, my guess is the conversation went something like this:

Exec #1: You know, the window is closing on this whole reality TV fad. We need to get out some product before it becomes passe. But what angle? Who do we feature?

Exec #2: How about fat people?

Exec #1: We already have My Big Fat Obnoxious Fiance in development.

Exec #3: You know, we could always exploit more black people.

Exec #2: UPN has that market sewn up.

Exec #1: Wait a minute....it just occurred to me. What are the two Ms of comedy?

Exec #2: Monkeys and...

Exec #3: Midgets! Of course!

Exec #1: How about we do a midget version of Fear Factor? Have the midgets do gross things? We could pull the Jackass audience with that combination.

Exec #2: That's TOO exploitative, even for us. What about something romantic? That should be sufficiently creepy to some, while tugging at the heartstrings of the rest.

Exec #1: Well then, how about The Bachelor for Little People?

Exec #3: Midgets...or else, the "Two Ms of Comedy" makes no sense.

Exec #1: Fine...The Bachelor for Midgets...what do you think of that?

Exec #2: I think we have ourselves another hit!

(In unison): We did it!

You know, I hate to say this, but I really wish The Simpsons would end their run and that the NFL would go back to NBC, because I feel like giving up on Fox completely.

Filipinos are world record kissers. C'mon ladies, don't miss out. I may only be 50%, but that's still better than 0%, right? (Thanks to Liz for the link.)

I liked it despite the absence of Flubber. Glayven?

So tonight, I turn to CBS (big mistake) and the Grammy's are on. I come in at the beginning of the big funk extravaganza, which I thoroughly enjoyed, even if George Clinton has seen better days. I think to myself, okay, I can check this out during commercials.

A few commercials later, I go back to the Grammy's...

It's Snoop and Jason Alexander.

*click*

I couldn't even watch that for the morbid curiosity factor.

Then, a commercial or two later, I go back. To paraphrase Marge Simpson going into Uncle Moe's: "Chick Corea with the Foo Fighters? Whatever."

I have now sworn not to go back to the show. I should have known better.

Since Mr. O. has recommended people check out this blog for details of last night's excursion, I guess I should probably post them. So, here she be:

The place: Cap City. The occasion: JG's grad party. But first, let me back up just a bit.

The night before (that would be Friday), I went over to JG/JW's spot, where we had to entertain ourselves for a while because JW's receiver is on the fritz. (Therefore, no DVD or PS2.) In town for the Saturday Night Main Event were DD (with A) and CE. Eventually, the receiver came back to life and stayed on long enough for us to watch Run Ronnie Run!, which was hilarious. ("I didn't even get my suck-off!") After the movie, I bailed back to my place and called it a night.

Now then, back to Saturday night. There was a really good/diverse crowd there: JG's friends from back home, his co-workers, the AU crowd (of which I am one), a couple of JW's friends from school, and a few other people. There was a great open bar, lively conversation all over the place, and Mr. O was at the top of his game. He had all of the best lines (though, I think I scored a decent one by describing one of the attendees as a combination of "Yeardley Smith and Tawny Kitaen," but you really had to be there) of the night. Anyway, as he said, because of some combinations of people, it was a real powderkeg in there. Luckily, no arrests were made (or even necessary), and the party went on without a hitch

The plan was for a group of us (basically, whoever wanted to go) to go to Bugsy's in Old Town after the party. Unfortunately, we didn't leave as one big group, but rather, in a few small groups. And that, my friends, is where my harrowing tale begins.

My group consisted of DD, A, and CE (DD and CE are childhood friends of JG/JW, and A is DD's fiancee). We were all kinda lit, though, CE and I were more in control of our senses. DD was pretty gone, and A...well, God bless her, she was just blasted. Now, keeping her steady wasn't a big problem (she was holding onto me...can I just say that DD is one helluva trusting man?) and getting from point A (Cap City) to point B (the Metro), wasn't much of a task. A bit of a slow trek, as A kept on yammering on about how she never usually gets this banged up, and how she works with adolescents (I suppose this is to add credibility to her statements). She keeps telling me how cool I am, and calls me Jack from time to time (after hearing the story of last week's Black Cat adventure), and unzips my coat, etc. Occasionally, she'll notice other people around her and calls out to them; thankfully, none of us got our asses kicked. Eventually, we're on the platform, but we're too far up, and none of us notice the train pull up well short of where we're sitting. I run for it, but the conductor refuses to reopen the doors. The others finally straggle up behind me, and we decide to stand there so we don't miss the next train. I suggest that CE, DD and I form a barrier around A, so she doesn't wind up on the tracks. Mission accomplished. We catch the train, transfer to another train two stops later (this included a trip down the escalator to the lower platform; thankfully, nobody took a header). We get on this train, and it's a good 15 minute ride or so to our destination. CE and DD are sitting in one seat, A and I are sitting behind them. The conversation, btw, really hasn't changed since we left Cap City, as A is talking about (read: repeating) the same stuff. Eventually, about a stop away from our destination, the conversation turns to A's engagement ring. It's a nice ring, bigass rock on it. Good for her. We get to Old Town, get off the train, and start our trek toward Bugsy's. DD is a bit more sobered up, so he's now in charge of his fiancee. So I'm a bit up ahead (since I know how to get to the place), walking with CE, while DD and A are a bit behind us. All of the sudden, "no! no! no!" (Or something to that effect.) I turn around to see what's going on...

DD: The ring is gone!
Me: Which ring?
DD: *silent*
Me: Her engagement ring?

So A and DD start to freak out, I'm not even sure what CE's reaction is at this point. I tell them all to stay put and I'll trace our steps back and see if I can find it on the ground. I make it all the way back to the station, and I'm looking in there, when the rest of them show up, having followed me back. I ask the station manager if it's okay if I go up and look on the platform. He says go ahead. I go up, look about: nothing. I go back down and start to talk to the station manager again about what can be done re: lost and found. Meanwhile, DD and A had gone up to the platform themselves. I go up (with the manager) to retrieve them. A is kinda losing it at this point, saying over and over that she's not leaving and she just wants to go home. With mine and DD's urging, we eventually get her downstairs. I pull out my cell phone, thinking about who I could call at the bar to debrief on this situation. Lo and behold, there's a message. It's Mr. O. I call him back and get his voice mail, just stating that we're at King Street, there's been a bit of a situation, and that we'll be there soon. Meanwhile, the station manager calls ahead to the end of the line, where the train has just arrived. They'll search the train and then call back. I ask CE to stay with the manager to wait for the call, while I go to trace our steps out of the station again. A little ways out and BAM! There it is. I pick it up and run back to the station yelling "I found it!" DD gives me a hug, A seems to be close to tears, and CE is just being as patient as can be. I thank the station manager for his help and patience. The guy was very cool and understanding about the whole thing. I put the ring on my keychain (I'm pretty much sober at this point) and we restart our hike down the street. I get the ringy-ring from Mr. O and I tell him to let JW or JG know that one of them may have to leave to go back to the spot to let DD and A in. By now, the wind is picking up a bit and I decide that we're just going to cab it. So we grab a cab and proceed to pay $10 (that's with tip) for a ride down the street. It was a total ripoff, but I wasn't going to argue at this point. I just wanted to get back with the rest of the group, where I could have a beer and a seat. By the way, the whole cab ride, A is still repeating things. But this time, it's "you found it? where did you find it? are you sure you have it? I owe you my life!" I'm being very patient about the whole thing, as I'm more relieved than anything else that the ring has been found and the whole mini-nightmare is over.

We get inside, order some drinks, and the rest of the night is very low-key. The only other highlights are "the line" ("Wow. You just got a lot uglier.") and JG trying to get a girl (the person at whom the previous line was directed; and for the record, she's not ugly, IMO) to flash me. After last call, we slip out, but before we do, I give the ring to DD to hold, as he is now sober enough. We start to hoof it up King Street in the cold. JG, CE, DD, A and "the ugly girl" eventually part from Mr. O and me, as we're going to the Metro, where I will catch a train and Mr. O will get a cab. I catch a train as soon as I get up on the platform and ride without incident, waking up two stops before my destination. I was able to make the trek through the cold without public urination, even passing a thicky-thick hooker with a skirt that wasn't even attempting to cover her ass (which is pretty much standard in these parts) on the way. That would be the final image of the night. Apropos of nothing, of course, but I thought it was worth mentioning. Why? Because the big ass is where it's at.

Good night, Springton! There will be no encores!

Please Hammer, Don't Hurt 'Em



This was found here, via Rock Critics Daily.

This should definitely be the halftime show at the Super Bowl next year. (Link found in this thread over at Bagatellen.)

Has anybody seen the Quizno's commercial featuring the Spongemonkeys? I heard the commercial before actually seeing it, so I was caught off guard. I chuckled, of course, but was still a bit shocked to see it. I guess after the internet-TV crossover of the Dancing Baby, all bets are off with this sort of thing.

The 100 Most Annoying Things of 2003. Yeah, most are obvious (and some are just kinda lame), but some of those capsules are hilarious. (Number 50, for example.)

And everybody in the fucking world is commenting on the halftime show of last night's FOOTBALL GAME, so I'm not going to really say much. Except this: IT WAS A TITTY! A GODDAMN TITTY! FUCK! Isn't it bad enough that the philistines are running things, do we now have to listen Tom "Giving Fat Guys a Bad Rap" Shales yammer on about the impact this exposed breast will have on the future of television? Fuck you, Tom Shales. And fuck me for commenting about this for more than two sentences. Dammit!

What's more annoying is that in a lot of ways, it's overshadowing a phenomenal football game. I mean, that was a 15-round classic, so good that it felt scripted. To use a bit of wrestling parlance: that was one excellently booked game. You had a bit of a feeling out process at the beginning, then a quick flurry of offense that got the crowd into it, then some hard hitting back and forth action in the third quarter, that led to a number of near-falls (lead changes), which really grabbed the crowd, coming down to the end where the favorite ekes out the win. And yet...it wasn't scripted at all. Amazing. It would be nearly impossible to write this game any better. And because of some slightly incestuous titty grab at halftime, only the sporting world is talking about it. This is a game that deserves better than that. Even as a hardcore Dolphin fan, I cannot deny the performance that New England put on, or the unfathomable way Justin Wilson was able to lead the Panthers back to the brink of victory. ("Aieeeeee!")

And congratulations to Adam Vinatieri, who will never be confused with Scott Norwood. John Kasay on the other hand...