Weekly Selects #41

Things were at a minimum this week, as most people were on vacation, so it looks like it is the Weekly Select this week.

--Via Google Reader Share:

NBA player Chris "The Birdman" Anderson.

New Year's Resolution: Renew and deepen resolve to never get a neck tattoo. Ever. I think that's really all that needs to happen in 2011 in order for me to consider it a success.

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Photo of the Week -- Traveling 27 Dec 2010

4:45AM wake-up. SeaTac Airport. And I feel like passing out like this dude next to me. Though perhaps I would not be wearing the powder blue sweatshirt or the skinny jeans. And I would be drooling on myself.

(I guess I shouldn't be complaining, as I am really just traveling on my way to more vacation...just can't sleep on planes...)

Happy Monday, all. Hope you have another nice short week.

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Weekly Selects #40

Christmas coming up, so let's do this:

--Via Gchat from Ben:

Holy cow. We had corndogs yesterday. They were AWESOME
You are so lucky that we gave you such an awesome wedding present...
You see. Every corndog you have ever had has been budget dog and batter

Exhibit A

Ben, of course, is a frequenter and skulker of woot.com, a website that sells items for cheap because most people do not want them. This is where he stumbled upon (hunted for? waited expectantly for?) the Corndog Maker (see Exhibit A), a device I didn't even know existed. Admittedly, I love corndogs, but their true value has always been in the fact that you never have to actually prepare or make them -- they always come frozen. So while I may have never considered owning one, it looks like I will be putting the Corndog Maker to use for years to come.

--Via Google Reader, a news article about another Samurai Sword attack:

a man was inside his home when he became upset that headlights from a car on the street were shining into his bedroom. That's when police say he got into a fight with the man in the car.
  
The man from the house eventually picked up a wooden club and then investigators say that's when the man from the car pulled out a samurai sword.

What??

According to detectives, in the middle of the fight, the man with the sword sliced off three fingers from the man with the club.

Police say that the man was sent to an Indianapolis hospital to reattach his fingers...

Police are still hoping to talk to more witnesses and get a clearer picture of exactly what happened.

I'm nowhere close to where this happened, but I can paint a pretty clear picture for the Police: Samurai sword trumps wooden club every time, son.

This sounds like a scene out of Highlander or something. Can't you see the guy with the sword, silhouetted by the car's headlights and issuing some challenge? This only makes me more curious about the number of people roaming around with samurai swords. I fear I'm missing out on some trend.

--Via Email from JMill:



That was Tasmanian Devil-like. I guess that's what happens when you try to run hurdles that are taller than you. (Burn on the Chinese dude)

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The Nation's Worst?

If you're from the DC Metro area, seeing a Maryland license plate should reflexively fill you with some mixture of hostility, frustration, and most importantly, that old familiar sensation of overwhelming and uncontrollable road rage. This is inextricably programmed into my autonomic nervous system. MD drivers are the absolute worst. I guess I can't rightfully assert that all bad drivers are from Maryland, but I CAN tell you that every car that I've seen bearing a Maryland license plate contains a bad driver.

Just something I was thinking about the other day as I got cut off -- once again -- by a Maryland driver.

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Photo(s) of the Week -- Blaming "Them" 20 Dec 2010

Well, I went and supported Mrs. RoSA and some friends at a combined 5K/10K run this past Saturday called "The Christmas Caper." (We're all familiar with the reason I don't run anymore.) It was early, it was cold, and it was icy on the running path -- which, fortunately for my half-frozen self, made for an amusing experience when compared to other running events that I have spectated.

Ben H ran the 10K in a full Santa outfit. I personally like this one, which shows off the Santa Mullet in all its glory, flowing in the wind.

As awesome as this was, the more entertaining and/or confounding spectacle was this creepy guy, who stood, unmoving and sentinel for at least 25 minutes, about 50 yards from the start line, with an enigmatic shirt:

"They" are such convenient scapegoats for everything, aren't they? "They failed to forecast rain, so I didn't bring an umbrella to work today and now I'm soaked."  "They are doing nothing but advancing the left- / right-wing agenda."  "They climbin' in your windows, snatchin' yo' people up, tryin' to rape 'em, so ya'll need to hide yo' kids, hide yo' wives,...and hide yo' husbands."

Awesome. Happy Monday and an upcoming Merry Christmas to you. Enjoy your week.

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The Compound: Big Brother is Watching

So, Mrs. RoSA and I have a new apartment, which, of course, required moving into. (And more epic battles with the Swedes of IKEA. But more on that at a later time.)

As far as my list of "I like" activities, I think "moving houses" ranks somewhere between "being dragged to the bottom of a pond in the jaws of an alligator"* and "camping out to watch a Twilight movie opening night, surrounded by screaming teenage girls." Yup. It is a long, torturous process that requires manual labor -- something my callous-less, gentrified hands are not used to; and, quite frankly, something I look down upon.

*I watched entirely too much late-night Animal Planet at college.

We now live in a nicely landscaped, overly-secure, and regulation-heavy gated community that is inhabited by what I suspect are mostly old people (I say "I suspect" because I've hardly seen anyone actually wandering the hallways. They're all shut in their apartments watching "Murder She Wrote" reruns. Or possibly dead). I know that these apartments were very nice -- perhaps even elite -- at one point, as their front office has award plaques for "Best Community Association" for Northern Virginia; however, because the last award they received was from the early 90s, it kind of makes it feel like The Compound is the Uncle Rico of apartment complexes: desperately grasping on to past glory and taping itself clumsily throwing footballs. This is all a metaphor.

Anyway, the aged population, combined with the excess of security gates and security guards -- who are nice guys, but who are on constant patrol as if we were at war with the neighboring apartment complex -- make the apartment complex feel like a cross between an assisted living center and secure government facility.** These atmospherics are why I've begun referring to our complex as The Compound.

**Seinfeld standup referring to retirement communities in Florida: "I don't get these minimum security prisons. Are old people trying to escape? Are people stealing old people?"

The Compound adheres to the concept of "the Rule of Law" and order, which I am down with in principle, but they have taken it to an oppressive extreme. When I signed the paperwork to move in, they gave me a handbook of the association's rules, which are so many (the thing is thicker than some of the phone books that Shigeko used to fashion a makeshift booster seat for her car) and encompass every aspect of everyone's life ("No hammering after 5 PM or on weekends or holidays" <-- I kid you not, this is an actual rule) that I am probably unwittingly breaking some association bylaw by charging my iPod in my computer right now.

Sometimes I think to myself: "So this is what it was like to live in East Germany with the stasi..." The difference, of course, being that the stasi weren't waiting to kick down your door because you dropped your garbage in the trash chute between the hours of 10PM and 7AM. I mean, the association officials tell me all these rules are for our own protection, but doesn't that ominously sound like the type of rhetoric that totalitarian regimes use to placate the masses while they slowly take away their freedom?

The dormant iconoclasts in both of us now want to purposefully break as many rules as possible so we can be the rebellious young couple who all the old people wish they could be. Nothing radical, mind you. Just the standard guerilla tactics, e.g. not parking in designated spots, not sorting our recycling, capsizing cars and errantly tossing a molotov cocktail or two, etc. The funny/sad thing is that, no matter how many rules we purposefully break, we will always end up breaking more rules just out of ignorance. Or, as Mrs. RoSA just observed: "We're rebels without a clue." Our Broken Association Rules (BAR) Tally sits at a healthy and subversive 6. (That we are aware of.) Will keep you all updated as we continue to raise our fist and resist against Big Brother.

A Note From the Mrs:

By way of introduction, if any of you are wondering if I married Mr. RoSA just so I could get the chance to be a guest writer on his blog, you are wrong.  I married him to be the beneficiary on his life insurance policy, what else?

I do not think we are cut out for life in the Compound.  Spiky gates at the periphery and speed bumps every twenty feet; floral wallpaper and sickly sweet aerosol air fresheners in the hallway; invisible neighbors who are either too old to move or up to no good; one neighbor (either a bouncer or a chronic clubber) who leaves a potent trail of perfumed stench through the entire stairwell when he descends every night around 10pm; and ever vigilant security guards.

One of what I'm sure will be many experiences with the security guards occurred the day our couch got delivered.  I met Ryan, the slow-talking, gap-toothed, smooth-faced young security guard when I burst into the front stairwell, broom and dustbin in hand, after the deliverymen had managed to get the couch wedged and break the hall light into a million pieces.  There was our monolithic couch, hamstrung over the railing, and there were the small but remarkably agile deliverymen, slithering under the couch on broken glass, trying to extract overstuffed pillows. And there was Ryan--looming, watchful, considering.  He turned his discerning gaze towards me and immediately launched into a phlegmatic recitation of my infractions:

 

"You've already broken three rules.  [1] Their truck is parked out front, and they're blocking in about 4 cars.  Delivery trucks can never be parked in the front of the building. [2] Deliveries can never be made through the front lobby or front stairwell.  [3] All deliveries must be made using the elevator in the downstairs garage."

 

I chose abject humility as the best way to get out of this scrape.  I claimed ignorance, apologized, offered to pay for the light, promised him my firstborn child, etc.  He muttered a bit as he deliberated: "Have to assess the damage . . . write a report . . . she didn't know . . . not really her fault . . ."  

 

Well, Ryan will get cookies this Christmas from two Compound rebels who appreciate his magnanimous, roguish, kindred spirit:  "Just get them out of here really quick.  And don't worry about the light.  We have tons of extras."

 I guess the point of this entire entry, with anecdotal support from Mrs. RoSA, is that we really don't fit in here at The Compound.

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Weekly Selects #39

You might have noticed that I used to do the "DC (Digital Correspondence) Highlights for the Week" every Thursday, posting the funny stuff that people send me via digital media (text, IM, email, etc) throughout the week. You also might have noticed that "digital correspondence" is an incredibly unwieldy phrase -- "correspondence" has like, A LOT of syllables -- and I got sick of explaining to people that "DC Highlights" had nothing to do with what happened the past week in the Washington DC area.

So now we're going to go with "Weekly Selects." Okay? Okay. Let's do this:

--Via Google Reader. From AP:

Wis. Postal Worker Delivers Mail In The Buff

"A Wisconsin postal carrier says he simply wanted to cheer up a woman on his mail rounds who seemed 'stressed out.' But, upon further review, the postal worker says delivering the mail in the nude probably wasn’t such a good idea.

"A police report says the 52-year-old man told the woman he would deliver the mail to her office in Whitefish Bay completely naked to make her laugh. He says the woman dared him to do it, so he took the dare Dec. 4 and brought the mail wearing only a smile."

I considered making this Photo of the Week, but decided to spare you the trauma and emotional scarring. That, and I don't actually have a photo of it (thank goodness). But we can assume that the naked Wisconsonian (Wisconsinite?) delivering mail on that fateful day was a pale-skinned, overweight white man who subsists on an exclusive diet of beer, bratwurst, cheese, Packers' football, and beer.

Who says stereotypes don't work?

--Via IM from JMill:


I think the key takeaway here is obvious: Ladies, never fall in love with a British soccer fan/hooligan.

I thought all that ardent intensity that they put into their teams and fighting riot police ended when the soccer matches did -- but that was obviously naive on my part. It is also present when singing romantic love songs, so is likely present in other aspects of their lives. Can you imagine picking out curtains for your house, or going through the fast food drive-thru, or any sort of everyday activity with guys that have this kind of intensity? You would live in fear your entire life. The second guy with the shaved head is the scariest. Although, to his credit, he does rock a nice harmony.

--Via Email from my coworker CC:


This is creeptastic. Watching this woman stroke her hands and stare at them -- and then get on an elevator with them (00:50-mark) is like watching a stalker talk about his current victim. It gives me the heebie jeebies.

I always laughed so hard during the "Seinfeld" episode when George becomes a hand model because it seemed so outlandish and unrealistic. I guess assuming that these type of people don't exist was, once again, naive on my part. And I've never been so sad to be proven wrong.

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Photo of the Week -- Sundance Film Festival, Anyone? 13 Dec 2010

And so, PotW returns...

You may think that that's the Beastie Boys from the 80's, but you'd be wrong.

This is a screen shot from a new short film directed by BB MCA called Fight for Your Right Revisited, which follows the 'Boys after they 'leave' the party at which the "Fight for Your Right" music video takes place, and will premiere at the Sundance Film Festival in 2011. Those three guys are actually, l. to r., Seth Rogen, Elijah Wood, and Danny McBride (for some reason, a hobbit playing AdRock and two dudes that usually only star in idiotic stoner movies playing Mike D and MCA is really, really funny to me)

Here's a screen shot from the original video, just for comparison:

(According to casting reports, Will Ferrell, John C. Reilly, and Jack Black are in it, too. Anybody down for a trip to Sundance?)

This is a sequel I actually support -- Unlike something like, say, The Fantastic Four sequel, or Weekend at  Bernie's II. Yes. That movie actually exists.

Happy Monday to you!

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Et tu, Elise?

Having the physical features that I do makes me no stranger to being on the receiving end of mistaken identity (Panera Employee: "You're the [Asian] guy who just ordered the coffee, right?" Me: "No. I'm the [Asian] guy about to order a bagel, though.") and mistaken ethnicity ("Can't you read 'dem Chineez pictures?"). 

And who can blame people, really... I mean, it's a common enough occurrence that websites like AllLookSame.com and its "Exam Room" exist, right? East Asians all kind of do look the same, and we all get a Discernment FAIL -- myself included -- when asked to say who is Japanese, who is Korean, or who is Chinese.

I've learned not to get upset about it or take it personally, for the intent to offend is not there, and I don't personally know any of the people. Most of the time I just wryly smile and chuckle about it, and make sure to log it away for storytelling purposes, because I might as well have my friends laugh about it.

Another case of mistaken identity struck about a month ago. Only this time it came from someone I knew. All of my family was in town and at the mall. I was out picking up a friend from the airport. When we all met back up, Papa D had a story to share:

"So we're all at the mall with the kids. Elise [my niece] then walks up to a young, Asian man with gelled hair, and glasses with frames shaped like yours..."

...oh, no. She didn't...

"...and she just walked right up to him and asks him: 'Are you my Uncle Josh, I think?' And she kept asking him and jabbering away at/with him, and would have continued, had we not pulled her away..."

Like I said, when I'm mistaken for another Asian man or vice versa, I'm usually not offended because I don't know the person. But this was different. I should have felt a sense of betrayal at the hands of one my own, right? Like Caesar with Brutus?: "Et tu, Elise? You mistook a random Asian man for me?"

But then I remembered that my niece is 5-years old, and so I laughed. And laughed. And appreciate that in a random and strange mall, my niece went looking for me.

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RoSA Returns

Goedemorgen. Ik heb teruggegeven.

WHOA. I return from my extended hiatus.

Let's face it -- in a figurative blogging sense, I'm feeling a bit like our Dutch friend, Mr. Rip Van Winkle: Slightly disoriented as I wipe the Blog Slumber from my bleary eyes; my blogging "muscles" are atrophied from sitting idle and have disintegrated into rolls of useless fat; and, as is evident from my greeting, my Dutch still sucks. So getting back into the blogging may require shaking off some rust.

Also, one actual and non-metaphorical thing that Mr. Van Winkle and I both did during our respective hibernations: We grew beards for a little longer than was prudent. See Exhibit A:

Exhibit A

...and, basically, the similarities end there. See, whereas Rip grew an awesome beard during his 20-year slumber, I grew an asymmetrical abomination. Even homeless men looked at me with pity in their starving eyes, thanking the heavens that, although they were without income, food, or lodging -- and possibly hope -- at least they could grow a decent beard.

AM described that "...it was part wolf, part molester, part santa, part amish", but I'm guessing that's just a kind way of saying "fully revolting." Sigh.

So, anything happen with you guys since June? Me? Oh, not a whole lot, really...

I went overseas for a good three months, where I got stranded twice in remote areas in the middle of nowhere and was able to witness the inner workings and daily living of the US Military (the latter basically means eating bad food three meals/day and living in poor housing conditions). It was an adventure.

The Beard in its nascent stages

Immediately after returning to the US, the beard had outlived its stay (see aforementioned homeless men pitying me as a possible reason), and let me tell you, trimming and shaving the thing was EXHAUSTING. The whole epic saga took at least 45 minutes and required the type of physical stamina and resolve that you only see/read about in classics like The Odyssey or Rocky. I unashamedly admit that midway through shaving I took a short break to rest my fatigued arm, and I may or may not have given myself a pep talk in the mirror sometime along the way ("C'mon, man, FOCUS! Don't let the beard beat you" "Pain is nothing. You're better than this!", etc, etc). I collapsed, completely exhausted, at the end of it all.

The two weeks after returning home were complete chaos, but I suppose it was for a good cause, because at the end of it all, I got married, which was all pretty awesome. It was all a blur of dresses and flowers and having my picture taken (ugh), but most importantly, a day spent with my lovely wife (formerly AM and now Mrs. RoSA, who I'm sure you'll hear from from time-to-time), my family, and all of my closest friends throughout the years.* Honeymoon involved flying to London to hang out for a bit, then catching a Transatlantic Crossing from England back to the US. You know, just like the Pilgrims did in the olden days!

*The whiffleball games played at my bachelor party were some of the funniest moments of my life

So yeah. That's been the last bit of the happenings here. Now it's back to normal life, and normal life involves blogging. Like I said, gotta shake the rust off, so bear with me.

PS Apparently this video going viral was the biggest development back in the States whilst I was away? This is brilliant, and I'm proud that -- despite a still-recessed economy and Sarah Palin actually being taken seriously as a political figure by some -- America was able to come up with this:



So run and tell that, homeboy.

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Extended Hiatus

RoSA Readers,

Unfortunately, the time has come -- at least temporarily -- for me to stop blogging.

I will be busy with work for the next four months and will not have the time nor means to blog. Again, the hope is that this is just a hiatus, and not THE END.

Three years and almost 300 posts later, thank you to you, loyal readers: For your suggestions; for your feedback; for taking two minutes out of your frenzied days of ADD-propelled internet surfing to read the posts; for claiming to enjoy what I've written. Most of all, thanks for indulging me in what began as a need-for-catharsis project and morphed into something that taught me how much I love writing. It's been a nice run.

(Writing this, I realize this probably doesn't sadden you as much as it does me... or perhaps Case: "i thought my kid's first words read were going to be from that blog." But hey: No one enjoys writing about and recounting my various moronic deeds more than I do, so I know I'll want to get back to it when things settle down.)

I have no other words to convey my sadness, so I will use this man to express how I feel:



It's like in Empire Strikes Back when Han Solo gets captured and frozen and Chewbacca is distraught and wailing like only a Wookie can. This kind of highly emotional crying would also apply to me during the last episode of LOST; or, whenever I think about David Archuletta and his sweet, crooning voice not winning 'American Idol.' (<-- BLATANT AND SHAMELESS LIE)

So, for the time being, keep me on your RSS feed. We'll continue rambling around Oct-Nov. Until then, enjoy the World Cup, Inception, and whatever else your summer has in store for you.

Peace for now,
JD

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Why Do We Have Spoilers, Again? -- Photo of the Week 7 June 2010

This one came in from K Swiss on his morning drive today:

I took this photo using [my wife's] Blackberry this morning on the way to the Metro. Yeah, this happened in my neighborhood

First of all, nothing screams "bad-ass speed" and "I need a spoiler to stay on the ground I'm so fast" than a '93 Accord with "turbo" placed on the back right of the trunk.

But really, if you're going to the trouble of slaping a piece of wood onto your trunk, wouldn't you want to go with something classier than plywood? Like a nice, dark cherry wood? Maybe put a nice dark stain on their to at least make it appear that your spoiler wasn't just a skateboard ramp for a bunch of teenagers? I don't know. Despite my Asianness, I am no expert on Rice Rocketing a car.


Happy Monday, all.

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The Double Down -- Photo(s) of the Week 1 June 2010

So, I'm assuming you've at least seen, and been disgusted by, the commercials for KFC's Double Down -- the sandwich that was marketed as having "so much meat, there wasn't room for a bun"? It's the two fried pieces of chicken holding together cheese, bacon, and KFC's "special sauce."

Chunk had been talking about giving it a try. So we decided to go for it:

My recommendation: Bring lots of water with you when you try this thing, because I think it contains your weekly value for sodium. I was dehydrated for the entire day following eating this thing. And I only had two bites...

Hope you had a good Memorial Day weekend. Have a good week!

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Weekly Selects #38

I was asked to fill-in for a dodgeball game last night -- my first organized one -- which was surprisingly fun. My two personal memorable takeaways: (1) The dude on the other team who was pointing people off the court that he had hit, and who also gave me the "come and get some" wave of his hand when it was just me and him left; (2) The Asian-dominated team we were playing thought I was on their team. Oh, good times. And yes, my arm is sore.

Your videos, and then your Highlights:

Videos:
-An Ian McKellen impersonator doing the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air intro
-NASA How to Poop in Space Tutorial (a little long, but no wonder they cut the shuttle program)
-Watch me run 300 yards of my marathon (not really all that exciting, but you can hear Casey narrate and Shigeko laugh merrily. Thanks, Jay!) 
-Stupidest commercial EVER (and the song is stuck in my head. I hate whoever made this commercial.)

-Via Email from Casey, who sent a strange article about people in Japan (sigh) whose job is to break-up couples instead of matching them up:

Have an ex that won’t go away?  If you live in Japan, you can call on a wakaresase-ya or "splitter-upper": "The function of the wakaresase-ya is the direct opposite of a dating agency: with great ingenuity, and the right fee, they will prise apart human relationships."  For example, these professionals will trick a spouse or undesirable future daughter-in-law into committing an affair, and provide photographic evidence of the indiscretion. "We produce a drama at the request of our clients," says Osamu Tomiya, a splitter-upper.

I apologize on behalf of Japan.

As sad as this is, and as much as I think that reality TV is ruining television society, these type of guys has the makings of a successful reality show. Some sort of cross between "Rock of Love," "Dog: The Bounty Hunter," and "Survivor." It has manipulation, drama, scandal, and tumultuous relationships -- all key factors in melting American brains into a soupy mass of stupid-reality-show-addicted gruel.*

*(In the interests of full disclosure, I was flipping through channels a couple months back and came across "Jersey Shore"...and was so mesmerized by the Guido World and it's complete deviation from everything I've known to be normal, that I watched for three hours. I just couldn't turn away)

-Via GChat from JMill:

we should go on a high dining experience in NYC

Marijuana-inspired food -- not meaning "special brownies" or anything like that, but meaning food whose creation was inspired whilst under the influence.

Something tells me that the key ingredients to most of these recipes will be Funyuns, Doritos, and pork rinds. Maybe some Oreos.

-Via Email from White Josh:

After seeing this picture, I can't tell what the Japanese would be most concerned about.  The fact that the base is staying in Okinawa, or what this guy wears out in public!  wow

Oh, Prime Minister Hatoyama.

I was more concerned about Hatoyama and his party taking power last year from the Liberal Democratic Party -- a political party that was pretty much in power for 50+ years straight -- and whether his administration would have the cajones to battle entrenched bureaucrats, endemic and pervasive governmental corruption, and Japan's aging society.

But now I'm more concerned about his fashion sense.

-Via Email from Banker, who just got in to a prestigious university in Europe for a postgrad program. In celebration, Josh M got him a gag gift of an Indian dreamcatcher, which Banker mocked. This email came in a couple of weeks later with attachment:

this thing must have brought me luck, as I hung it up last night, and this morning I wake to have an email from *university name* saying that one who was awarded the scholarship declined, and since I was the runner up, guess who gets it?!

(see below)

so thank you for the dream catcher, as it certainly caught something. 

(I'll never make fun of these again)

Lesson: NEVER QUESTION THE POWER OF THE DREAMCATCHER.

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I Love the Irish -- Photo of the Week 24 May 2010

The LOST finale was satisfactory.

AM went gallivanting about the Emerald Isle for about 10 days, and came back with this one:

Could there be a better name for pub/venue? No...no, there couldn't.

Happy Monday-- get ready for your Memorial Day weekend...

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Goodbye, LOST

The TV show LOST, which is coming to an end this Sunday, has been called a lot of things over its six-year run: "Gripping," "stupid," "addicting," "a television phenomenon" (<-- after years of hearing this I STILL HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IT MEANS), and on and on.

As I reflect on my six seasons as a LOST watcher -- and I have thought about it a lot -- I would like to add a descriptor of my own: Abusive.

(For all you non-watchers: Hopefully this post serves as an insight into that cryptic show your coworkers incessantly talk about. At the very least, take comfort in the fact that you live healthy and unfettered lives, free from the all-consuming need to figure out the mysteries of LOST)

Don't get me wrong. LOST is a great show in so many ways: Its first season is one of the greatest seasons of television ever; it is some sort of successful drama-scifi-suspense hybrid; it has great characters; and it has good mysteries. But the mysteries are also where the problem lies. The show continually raises more questions than it answers, and this leads to fans having lives that are dominated by rampant speculation, outlandish theories and a list of unanswered questions.

Let's put it this way. LOST watchers are the victims in an abusive, one-sided relationship that leaves them unfulfilled on a weekly basis -- and LOST is the abuser. The show asks for the commitment of its watchers but rewards them sparsely with answers.

LOST is like the boyfriend who comes home with blood on his shirt and hands and a manic look in his eyes, and when asked: "Whose blood is that??" Responds with an aloof: "Nothing," and then adds: "Where's the shovel? Can you get me the extra strength garbage bags? Do you know our lawyer's phone number?" It always answers questions with more questions.**

**(An analogy for the men, just so you don't feel left out: The show is like the girlfriend who gets dolled up to go out and asks to borrow all of the money in your wallet, then comes back drunk at 4am with no money, tousled hair, smeared lipstick, and hickies all over her neck. When asked "Where were you??" she angrily responds with: "Where was I?? Where were you? What were you doing all night?...Now, where do you keep the rest of our cash?")

But within these unhealthy relationships, I have found that LOST watchers aren't a homogeneous group. There are different types of abuse victims watchers, and I feel they deserve to be recognized for the unique ways in which they watch and experience the show. Here we go:

--Ignorantly Enthusiastic - "If I just keep freshly squeezing his orange juice, keep walking his dog for him, and keep detailing his car, he'll come around." You know the type. Their weekly schedules revolve around 9pm on Tuesdays and feel that the more they dedicate themselves to the show it will become more rewarding... but they have no idea that the show treats them like poop. They Google every book that makes a brief cameo on the show, draw flowcharts to track the connections between characters, hop on online message boards to discuss things. It's not a matter of denial -- we'll get to that -- but rather of blind devotion and obliviousness.

--Kicked Puppy Dog - "He may have 'pushed' me down the stairs once, and given me that black eye. But... he still loves me...right?" These people are in denial. Deep-down, past all of their obliviousness, they know LOST will fail them and their hopes for answers. Like a kicked puppy dog, however, they keep coming back for the punishment. 

--Resigned - "Hell. I'm not really enjoying myself anymore, but I've come this far. I guess I'll just ride it out." They've resigned themselves to the fact that the show has drug them through a bunch of crap, but now are along for the ride. They are not excited about the show, nor do they have illusions about ever getting excited again, but they hang around just...well, because. I fall into this category. I continue to watch -- simply because "I've come this far."  

--Violently Angry -"If the show doesn't answer my list of questions, I am going to hurt someone, or myself." This group of people always gets angry after each show, swearing they'll never watch it again -- but they're back on Tuesday.

Does that sound about right? I think it does.

All of that being said, I will admit, in my resignation, that this final season has been decent. I think the end of the show will be met with some relief, and a sense of freedom. People will look less burdened walking around and will be a little more cheery once it's over.

If Robert Frost had lived in more modern times, he probably would have gotten roped into watching LOST. And he probably would have penned some verse about his own addiction, which would be titled "The Road I Wish I Wouldn't Have Taken (But Now Am Forced To Finish Because I Need To Know What the Smoke Monster Is)."

PS: If you're a fan of the show, check out these movie posters by Gideon Slife -- one for each episode of the show. Pretty cool stuff.

*******

Editorial Note: When I submitted the first draft of this to Ben for review, I received the following response:

It makes little sense. But that is apropos for the subject at hand. I can see how feverish this show is making your thinking.

Just thought you should know that.

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Weekly Selects #37

I get so many new YouTube clips a week that I can't possibly include them all even though I still want to include them. So, before the weekly DC highlights, I'll toss hyperlinks to some of the better videos from the past week, and you guys can decide on which one you like the best. 

Alrighty. Let's do this:

Videos:
-Slayer Goes to Church (Think church service meets mosh pit)
-Swagger Wagon (You can't tell me it's not catchy -- should be in contention for a Grammy)
-Will Ferrell Express (Watch Ferrell start a basebrawl and throw beer at other players)
-Sauerkraut Wrestling (You'd better not dive in with any open cuts...could sting)

-Via TXT from DJA:

Quoting the "gentleman"@the nxt window making his transaction@the bank: "& i need 100 singles...thats right...100 singles." yes.

Well, at least someone was having fun over the weekend.

-Via Email from JMill:

the squirrel that died in your wall...

You might recall the squirrel that got stuck in our wall and that I feared would die and would become a ghost Clown-Squirrel and haunt me. But a drunk Clown-Squirrel?? I just wet my pants thinking about it.

But really, I watched this video, felt bad for the squirrel for a split second, then immediately began thinking of the animals that I would like to see drunk (I've already seen a cat high off of dope, so cat doesn't make the list). In no particular order:

• Giraffe: Their necks are so disproportionately long already, can you imagine a giraffe feeling like its head is twice as heavy as it normally is, swaying on the end of that neck? You would laugh.
• Tree Sloth: It would be like the squirrel trying to climb up the tree, but. much. slower.
• Badger, Hippo, Grizzly Bear: I'm just curious to see if they are angry drunks. I think they would be.

Any that you would like to see?

-Via Google Reader, because you know I can't go a DC Highlights without pointing out some strange thing going on over in Japan:

Robot Priest Marries Couple in Japan

Girls always talk about their dream weddings. Somehow I don't think that "Robot priest saying 'Do you take this man to be your wife?' " was part of anyone's scenario. Well, of course, except this Japanese girl's. Oi.

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Cherry Blossoms at Sunrise -- Photo(s) of the Week 17 May 2010

Washington DC takes pride in the cherry blossom trees that Japan gave as gifts back in 1912. (History books tell us it was a gesture to signify the growing relationship between Japan and the US, but I think getting the trees was a last-ditch effort by President Taft to be remembered as "the dude that got us the trees" and not "wait...wasn't that the fat president?")

At any rate, there is about a two-week window in April where the blossoms are in bloom, and this year I dragged AM with me Easter morning so we could catch some sunrise photos down at the Tidal Basin. So sure, I suppose they're over a month old, but I still like them:

This one was taken with a fish-eye lens I borrowed from the man next to me because he basically shouted: "Anybody have a Nikon who wants to take a few shots with a fish-eye lens?" I basically snatched the lens out of his hand before he had finished his sentence, took a few shots, and was immediately filled with a consuming, covetous* Lens Lust (photographers out there know what I'm talking about). I reluctantly returned the lens. But don't think that I didn't start visualizing scenarios -- think Holmes while he's brawling in the latest Sherlock Holmes movie -- about how I could incapacitate the lens-owner and his buddy in four swift blows or less and run away with the lens.**

*(Yup. Guilty of breaking the 10th Commandment)
**(Go ahead and tack on breaking the 8th Commandment, as well)

Anyway. I'll send you off with a Happy Monday and three more that I felt turned out well (which of course you can click on to embiggin'):

Publish Post

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Weekly Selects #36

Sorry 'bout missing last week. Let's do this:

-Via Google Reader, and email from White Josh:

Headline: Biker's corpse propped on motorcycle for three-day wake

So this dude was murdered (sad, and unfortunate), but his last wish was to be propped up on his bike.

Well, this makes me think about a few things, besides the obvious "Huh?" that some of you may have on the tips of your tongues. It got me thinking about what worldly possession I care about enough to be buried with, propped up on/against, or put in my hands in the casket. Root beer? Bacon? A good book? An awesome chrome Barbecue grill? I have no idea.

White Josh chimed in with:

You can prop me up with my racquet and goggles. Yacquetball for lizife.

Yacquetball is a story for another time, but let's just say it was a game we made up at college involving racquetball equipment, eye and/or crotch protection, and caused $800+ damage to the basement of our dorm hall.

-Via Google Reader:

cupcakes flying out of a 120psi cupcake cannon and into people's faces.

I don't know why that's so awesome. But it is.

-Via Email from White Josh, from Williams & Sonoma:

Speaking of BBQ'ing...

Why brand something that you're just going to stuff in your face? Someone needs to explain the relevance of this to me. I mean, yeah, it's cool because it feeds the ego -- I won't deny that seeing 'JD' branded onto a steak would be awesome -- but still...

-Via Email from Case, LOST-inspired Bentos from www.aibento.net:

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Inception -- Photo of the Week 10 May 2010

Behold the latest movie poster for the movie that I'm most excited to see this year: Inception.

In the words of Liz Lemon, I want to go to there.

Sure, I've been excited about other movies that turned out to be overhyped and abysmal failures (see: Wolverine and Terminator: Salvation, the cinematic equivalent of JaMarcus Russell), but I have a good feeling about this one. Here are some reasons why:

• One of the current, most solid actors taking the lead role? Check (Leo DiCaprio)
• The director for Memento, Batman Begins, The Prestige, AND The Dark Knight? Check (Christopher Nolan...who has said that the movie is "the biggest challenge I've taken on to this point")
• Japanese dude and all-around bada** playing the villain? Check (Ken Watanabe. Swoon, ladies. SWOON. He may have some male-pattern baldness and his accent may still be a bit thick, but you know you are gravitating toward his austere, rugged handsomeness right now)
• Trailers that don't make much sense and don't give away the best parts of the movie, but are nevertheless enthralling? Check (Folding street blocks, anyone? Uh. Whoa.)
• A tagline that vaguely and enigmatically reads "Your Mind Is The Scene of The Crime"? Check (It's also been described variously as sci-fi crime thriller, a corporate espionage thriller, and other such things)
• A poster that makes me dizzy just looking at it? Check. (That being said, I am the guy that spins his nieces/nephew in circles and ends up falling down before they do)

Look. I won't guarantee that you will like this movie -- because despite what Case thinks, whether something is likable or not is an opinion, and not an irrefutable fact. I can, however, guarantee a few things: (1) Yes, in typical Nolan fashion it will likely be dark; but (2) It will be gripping, and you will be glued to the edge of your seat; because (3) your head will be spinning to figure out what is going on for the entire two hours; and (4) It will be absolutely original and unique. It may even reach into the "weird" or "strange" category, but aren't we always complaining about formulaic and predictable plots, bland characters and dialogue, and stale movie concepts? This is going to be good.

Needless to say, I'm looking forward to it.


Happy Monday, all! I missed DC Highlights last week. I have been busy. And pondering the future of RoSA. But that's neither here nor there.

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Mt. Eyjafjallajokull -- Photo of the Week 2 May 2010

I realize that the huge eruption of Mt. Eyjafjallajokull (yes, somehow the Icelandic people communicate via a language with each other) that took place in Iceland was a few weeks ago, but I still can't get over the pictures that various news agencies and individuals took. You must go here to see some amazing ones. Here's one:

(REUTERS/Lucas Jackson)

  

Mother Nature is beautiful but destructive, and is often both at the same time...

 

 

Happy Monday, all... 

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Be Prepared (So You Don't Do Something Stupid)

I think the Boy Scout motto is too simple: "Be prepared."

For what, exactly? Just a little more detail would provide some guidance, like "be prepared for natural disasters" or "be prepared for when you're bit by a rabid dog." For me personally, it should be something along the lines of "be prepared for anything, just so you don't make a STUPID decision" (or, alternately: "be prepared in case a clown hopped up on meth comes at you with a crowbar." Don't tell me it can't happen).

And that's why, even though the Civie is still driving alright,  I am preparing ahead of time and shopping for a new car now. I figure that if I do all of my research now I will know what I want to buy -- so that when my car DOES die I won't rush out in a frenzied, impulsive panic, and before I know it I'm driving home missing a kidney and 80% of my liver because I sold them as the down payment on a Bentley I can't afford.

Anyway. I'm hoping to avoid the Bentley-situation, so I've narrowed it down to three cars for very practical reasons:

1) Honda Accord/Civic - Dependability? Good gas mileage? WRONG. We all know that the Accord and Civic are the car models that are the most "Rice Rocketable," and we all know I be wantin to get my Tokyo Drift on on the suburban streets of Northern VA.

2) Toyota Matrix - This is one of the "crossover" vehicles, meaning that it's half-sedan, half-SUV. I need a car I can relate to and feel connected with, and this car understands what it's like to be a "halfie" caught between two worlds. This could be a good match for me.

3) Toyota Prius - I hear what you're thinking: "Yeah, it gets good gas mileage, but what about the massive recalls this year. And the sticky accelerator pedals. It's a death trap, man. Don't do it."

Well, you're probably right on all those accounts, but you're assuming that those would deter me because you  forgot HOW HARDCORE I AM. I want this car precisely because it IS dangerous, and because being strapped into a large piece of metal hurtling at high rates of speed, and possibly being unable to control or stop that vehicle, doesn't scare me. I live for it.

(No, but really...I hope Toyota fixed that pedal problem if I end up buying the car.)

You've probably noticed that my list is exclusively Japanese. I'm not called an elitist for nothing.


Anybody have suggestions or advice of their own?

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Weekly Selects #35

Enough small talk. Shall we do this? Let's do this:

-Via IM with Josh M, as we were discussing possible new cars:

Josh M: or you can have people cast votes
Josh M: mine will be for the stretch hummer with the hot tub in the back
Me: figures, man. always using me for my luxurious goods to impress the women
Josh M: well, since you weren't willing to buy me a diamond encrusted grill, i figured this would be a good chance for you to redeem yourself

Yes, Father Time has diagnosed the Civie, and it's not worth the money to fix my air conditioning unit -- so I'm taking Papa Dalton's advice and "run[ning] the thing into the ground" before I get a new one. This of course means that when summer rolls around, my car will be a stuffy, oppressive sauna, and I'm just going to start driving around in a towel.

-Via G-Chat with Ben, after I asked him how he's doing a week after his beloved Denver Broncos had traded three of their draft choices last week in order to draft Tim Tebow:

I passed quickly through denial. Spent quite a lot of time in anger.
I think I have moved onto bargaining.
"maybe they will be ok if they can get a running game going"
"maybe we can work in all three qbs"
"maybe our defense will show up this year"
I feel "depression" setting in rather rapidly.
And "acceptance" will be months or years away.
How are you?

Well, I am actually doing quite well, thank you for asking, Ben.

See, that's the nice thing about not really having an NFL team you have a vested interest in: No team can crush you emotionally when they make inexplicably crazy draft choices; or when they choke consistently during big games; or when they're picked every preseason to "make the playoffs" but always, always end up falling short; or just when they're never any good year after year (see Denver Broncos, Philadelphia Eagles, Washington Redskins, and Buffalo Bills, respectively). I'm telling you: A cool, sociopath-like emotional detachment is the way to go. I can sit back and watch NFL games without having to breathe into a paper bag every time the score gets close.

-Via Email from Jay, who sent an article about the Cub Scouts:

Headline: Cub scouts to offer offer video game playing pin

Durrrr...

As far as getting credit for sitting on your butt and contributing nothing of value to society, this award ranks right up there.

I have to say, though, that the best merit badge I ever worked on in Boy Scouts was my drug-dealing one. A syringe and bottle of pills were the logo. Requirements included "lurk in the shadows for an entire night and avoid detection by local law enforcement authorities," "ruin at least three peoples' lives by getting them addicted to your 'product,' " and "threaten those who haven't paid you yet."

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Google Knows All -- Photo of the Week 26 April 2010

Google has revolutionized our lives in so many ways, but have we thought about the implications of Google knowing EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU? Take this hilarious shot from Street View Google, fittingly captioned "Google knows of your daily torment":

Oh, the poor little boy being pwned by his little sister.

It's interesting, though, that we just kind of accept the omniscience of Google. I mean, everyone's concerned about "Big Brother" government taking over, but what about Google knowing everything you search for, the people you care about the most (Gmail, Gchat), what you shop for, what you read about (Google reader), what your schedule is (calendar), where you travel (Google maps), and that you get beat up by your little sister? Does this not bother anybody?


Anyway...happy Monday, all!

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Weekly Selects #34

Quick Civie update before we get started. I took her in to get fixed with a mechanic who has been fixing cars for local LDS people for what I'm sure has been decades. The mechanic's name is Howard, but I prefer to call him Father Time, because he is quite possibly the oldest mechanic alive. It would not shock me if he started a story with "You know, I remember what I was doing when I found out that McKinley was shot." But Howard's a stud, and knows what he's doing, so I'm hoping for the best.

Okay. Now to this week's highlights:

-Via Google Reader:

Rechristen Yourself with the Wu-Tang Clan Nickname Generator

I know you want to know what my Wu-Tang name is: Misunderstood Demon, son. And I also know that you want to try it yourself. Let me know if you get something you like.


-Via Email from Gina C:

Funny baseball interview: Park Chan-ho, the first Korean to play in Major League Baseball.  After a horrible first game of the 2010 season, Park Chan-ho pitched 3 innings of score-less relief in Game 3.  Reporters asked him what was the difference.  See the interview for his answer...

The funniest part is Park's inability to understand why his teammates are laughing so hard. Someone can correct me if they disagree, but my experience has been that people from east Asian cultures are much more open about discussing toilet-oriented topics.

-Via Email from BreakUpEasy.com:

Subj: JMill has something to tell you: We here at BreakUpEasy.com are sorry to be the ones to tell you that JMill no longer wishes to be with you. Because breaking up with someone can be hard, JMill has decided to use our website to give you this news.

The email expounds on the specific reasons for the breakup.

So they have a break-up websites, now. Huh. What else are cowards going to have the internet do for them in order to avoid confrontation? Beat up the bully at school? Tell the high school band teacher that they're quitting band? Unbelievable.

-Via Email from Drew, a coworker and a huge runner who advocates the "minimalist" approach to running shoes (it gets good around 0:45):

Nike Free Ad

I don't know why this is awesome, but it is. The disclaimer at the end is also a nice touch.

I always answer that if given three wishes by a genie, my first wish would be to be the best breakdancer ever. I think my second may have just become "be a Japanese DJ that mixes with Nike shoes."

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The Civie is Causing Some Noise

I am the proud driver of a 1997 Honda Civic. Besides the rusted tailpipe that dropped out on I-81 back in 2009, she's never given me much trouble. The Civic's nothing fancy, but she's reliable and gets the job done.

During our road trip to North Carolina this weekend, the engine started making crazy noises. It sounds like a cross between an air conditioner and The Smoke Monster on 'LOST', and it is embarrassingly loud when I slow down below 20 mph. My solution to this is to begin perfecting the skill where I pull into a parking lot, immediately shut off the engine, and have just enough momentum to coast quietly into my parking spot of choice. I will do it at work, in my apartment complex, and at the grocery store.

Although no functionality has (noticeably) been affected, I know I'm going to have to take it in to the shop. I guess part of me just hopes that it'll fix itself.

Another part of me hears that Smoke Monster noise and is half-expecting to walk outside one of these mornings and see John Locke in the parking spot instead of my Civic, staring at me with those crazy, intense eyes and holding an 8-inch hunting knife in his hand.

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BOOK I KNOW I LOVE -- Photo of the Week 19 April 2010

I'm a big enough nerd that one of the things I get most excited about is getting a new book.


I just got word that Sara Boo, bless her most thoughtful of hearts, just bought a new book titled: The Big Bento Box of Unuseless Japanese Inventions. I haven't seen it yet, but all I need to know about it is in the title, and I love it already. Here's one featured invention in it I found through Amazon:

The "Forward Backward Glasses." Just in case you have friends who are ninjas that like to sneak up on you from behind. Of course, if this friend is a smart ninja he'll realize that as soon as you put on these glasses, your visibility drastically shrinks from 180 degrees to about six degrees (combined between the two scopes), so sneaking up on you when you are wearing these glasses is actually easier than when you're not wearing them. Unuseless? Counterproductive? All of these words are interchangeable, really.

This book, combined with my Atlas from The Onion, are the only coffeetable books I'll ever need. I'm excited to get my hands on it, and excited to share some of its nuggets of hilarity with you.




Happy Monday, all!

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