A-Rod the Centaur -- Photo of the Week 9 Nov 2009

This may be old news to some of you, but...

(writer's conception)

To answer the quizzical look on your face, NY Yankees star Alex Rodriguez, is reported to have a portrait of himself as a centaur hanging in his bedroom. A painting he commissioned. Commissioned: As in he proactively thought of the idea, sought out a painter, and paid said painter.

Now, many of you may be thinking this is strange. Beyond strange. Vain. Egotistical. But before you become judgmental of A-Rod, I suppose a confession is in order. I actually commissioned some paintings of my own a few years back. The problem I ran into -- besides finding a portrait artist whom I could afford -- was that I never specified what sort of creature I wanted my head to be placed on. Needless to say, the portrait didn't turn out so well:

Not what I would classify as flattering. Oh well. Some things just don't go as expected. I hope A-Rod is happy with how his turned out.

But really, it's super creepy. Previous to knowing this about A-Rod, here's a rough estimation of how my Top 3 "Things That Creep Me Out To No End" list was laid out:

1. Clowns
2. Creepy movie-children
3. Ventriloquist dummies
   

And now, the new list:

1. Clowns
2. Creepy movie-children
3. Alex Rodriguez

On a career note for him, maybe once he's done with baseball, we'll see if A-Rod makes a cameo in the next few Narnia movies.

Happy Monday. Spend the rest of the day being jealous of my MS Paint skills.

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Lightning Bolt! -- Photo of the Week 12 Jan 2009

"Lightning Bolt! Lightning Bolt!"

Okay, I've strayed and posted a video instead of a photo, but if a picture is worth a thousand words, a video of something like this is worth an unabridged version of War & Peace. I have no idea where, but WJ found this a few years ago and I watch it when I feel like I'm not doing anything productive or worthwhile with my life. It always helps. Nothing quite like watching others reenact D&D to boost my own self-confidence.

Confession: Until a few years ago, I was ignorant. I thought D&D reenactors occupied the backwoods of some hillbilly state. Unfortunately, this naive assumption was dead wrong. I was driving home one night in Provo around 3AM, came to a stop at a red light, and glanced at the park to my right.

It was one of those strange realization moments. Remember in The Matrix when Neo takes the blue pill, wakes up in the real world, goes on that slippery slide, gets picked up by Morpheus's ship, pukes all over because he's completely disoriented, and then Morpheus states matter-of-factly: "Welcome to the real world." I felt like all of those things had just happened to me -- the urge to puke was especially strong -- in that split second when I realized that a D&D reenactment was taking place in the city I currently lived. I guess I had to come to grips that this was part of the real world.


Can someone make a documentary of this? Please??



End note: You know, as I was typing this I saw a commercial for the Snuggie, and I wondered how they are still in business. Suddenly, I not only know the answer to that question, but also who their biggest customers are.

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Memories From The Grudge -- Photo of the Week 17 Nov 2008

With Halloween having recently passed and the release of Saw V -- the latest iteration of a movie series that easily falls under the "Survivor"** classification -- I present this week's photo.

The whole Halloween season reminded me of a very simple fact that I readily admit: I don't do scary movies. I just can't handle them. Especially ones with freaky children. I think deep down for a very long time I always knew this, but the manly side of me would never fess up to it.

But it all became glaringly apparent a few years back when some friends and I went and saw The Grudge in the theater.

My friend Casey is an emotional guy. It usually manifests itself in hypercompetitiveness, but it also translates into the amplification of emotions while watching movies. In the case of The Grudge, that emotion was FEAR. Granted, had I not sat next to him, I still would have been scared. But sitting next to Casey sucked me in emotionally and multiplied my fear threefold.

Afterwards, my roommate, Rye, wanted to drive his girlfriend home, but I wouldn't let him leave me alone. Casey's wife, Jenna, just made fun of us for being scared.

And I think as a way to rub it in, Jenna rented The Exorcism of Emily Rose some time after that. You can imagine how the dialogue went as I was over at their apartment late one night:

JD: Well, what're our options [of things to do]?
**Casey remains silent**
J: I rented The Exorcism of Emily Rose. We should watch that.
JD: Oh no no no. I'm not watching that thing.
C: Come on, man. You gotta stay and watch it with us.
JD: No freakin way. Who has to drive home by himself after it's over?
C: Fine, fine. How about this. We watch it in the middle of a huge field in the middle of the day.
J: Okay, that's lame! No way we're watching it that way.
JD: I am not watching that movie. Period.
C: Well, I can't watch it by myself!
JD: You'll have Jenna here with you, dude.
C: She can't protect me!

I think Jenna -- understandably annoyed at our cowardice -- ended up having to send it back to Netflix, unwatched.

*The "Survivor" stamp is derived from the TV show and can be applied to anything -- athlete , celebrity (Paul Walker, Keanu Reaves), business (McDonald's), country (Canada) -- that held very little to no promise from the outset and should not survive, but somehow continue to defy intelligent reasoning by attaining some measure of "success" (based on no merits of their own, mind you). Saw V? Really? In a country that claims a literacy rate of 99%, I ask: How is this possible?

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Homeless Power Ranger -- Photo of the Week 29 Sep 2008

I was searching for pictures for a different blog entry and stumbled on this one, which is funny (to me) on so many levels. First, these posters that parody the abstraction-centered "inspirational" posters, if done well, are hilarious. Second, it's got Power Rangers in it. How is that NOT funny?* Third, people actually devoted the time and money to make this poster. Fourth, it's true. I challenge you to find me anyone who was involved in the Power Rangers TV show who is currently employed.

*Confession: When the original Power Rangers came out, I used to rush home from school to watch it. It lasted until I realized I wanted to be able to hold a conversation with normal people and not end up in one of those school clubs that reenacts Dungeons & Dragons battles.

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Tagged - Enjoy, Sis

So my sister, Juli, virtual 'tagged' me from her blog, because she was "interested to see where [I'll] take this." I think you're supposed to list five things about yourself and then tag five people, or else you will be cursed with your secret crush not liking you, or the plague, or alcohol addiction...something like that.

Listed below are six -- how's that for taking things somewhere, huh, Juli?!? -- that you might not (and didn't care to) know about me.

1. Talk to me after I wake up - I don't always say everything that's on my mind, but if you want to catch me without a filter, do it after I wake up. I'll say exactly what I'm thinking. Anecdotal illustration: Back at the Y on a Sat morning, some friends I was planning on going to go paintballing with called me at 9am (I had forgotten):

-"Hello?" (italics in this narrative indicate dazed and confused)
-"Josh, hey, are you coming?"
-"Huh?"
-"Paintballing. We're waiting for you."
-I start crawling out of bed in my underwear: "Can I play with no pants?"
-"What? Uh...I guess...you could do that...you know, if you wanted..."

2. I punched a girl once - Casey was our FHE dad back at the Elms. For the activity he brought two pairs of boxing gloves and some slips of paper. We were to write who we wanted to see box each other on the slips. I ended up being pitted in The Octagon against a girl that had broken up with my roommate a few months back. I insisted I didn't want to fight her, but she kept coming at me, and the last time she did she swung with her left, I grabbed it, gave her a little tug to the ground, and gave her a little love tap to the right cheek. When I got home, the roommate asked "How was FHE?" "It was fine. I boxed your ex." slight pause -- "Sounds about right."

3. I clubbed a kid with my lunch pail - We might as well get the violent stuff out of the way. I had a sweet plastic Voltron lunch pail in Kindergarten. This kid on the bus ride home kept bugging me, so I smacked him over the head with it. The bus driver guaranteed me I was getting a ticket. When my stop came, I slid right off the bus. She probably mistook me for the other Asian kid on board.

4. I’m a contrarian – For some reason I like to make conversation difficult for people – but not in a confrontational way. I can’t explain it. Two illustrations:

Illustration 1

Friend: “Josh, you know you don’t always have to be contrarian.”
Me: “Yes I do.”

Illustration 2

Friend: “I ran 10 miles yesterday and I am sore.”
Me: “No you didn’t, and no, you’re not.”
Friend: “I’m pretty sure I know what I did and how I feel.”
Me: “Uh huh”
Friend Reconsidering Friendship: “I can’t believe I’m arguing with you about what I did yesterday.”
Me: “Believe it.”

5. I like baby food – Believe it. When I played in all-day soccer tournaments those little gerber glass jars of fruit puree (not that veggie puree…gross) had tons of nutrients needed to get some quick energy. Maybe that’s why I love those Naked and Odwalla smoothie drinks so much. They taste the exact same and cost about the same per ounce.

6. I make up words - As you all know from my B.E. entry, I make up words. This isn't all that unique, though, because I think a lot of people do. I do, however, specialize in verbs that represent a tendency that someone has, and base it on their name. Some examples:

• "Go ahead, just James Joyce me." JJ is an author famous for employing stream of consciousness. If I'm talking with someone but they keep getting tripped up b/c they can't seem to organize their thoughts, this is the phrase I use. (trans. "Just spew out everything on your mind and we'll sort it out later.")
• "He/she totally Paul Walker'ed that." I use this with actors and movies a lot, mostly with The Fast and the Furious franchise -- correction, let's call it a debacle -- in mind. (trans. "He/she took a movie that already looked horrible based on previews and made it even worse with their horrible acting.")
• "I just got my trash Shigeko'ed." I love my mom. One of the many loving memories I have of my childhood, I remember her always licking her thumb and aggressively scrubbing something off of my face. I didn't like it. (trans. "I was just treated in a rough manner by an otherwise well-intentioned individual.")

And the list goes on.

I break the mold and end the tagging here. I’m more of a reformer than any of the presidential hopefuls claim to be.

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Underground Addictions

Another confession.

Everyone has different smells that they enjoy. Most people like flowers or the ocean or new car or some other smell that is easily marketable in a Febreeze can.

For me, it boils down to sharpie markers and gasoline. Something about stepping out of the car at a gas station and having that smell hit my olfactories is -- how does that old cliche go? Like a warm blanket? That's not right, but I can't think of anything better.

Am I addicted? Well, you won't see me buying cases of extra-potent sharpies out of some guy's trunk in a 7-Eleven parking lot at 3AM. And you probably won't find me underneath an overpass huddled over a bucket of gasoline. Gas prices are so high now, drugs are probably cheaper anyway.

I'm not much for conspiracy theories, but this tendency to sniff markers after unscrewing the cap isn't my fault. This was ingrained in me since my preschool days and I am not accountable... I blame Sanford.

"Who?"

You know, the company that decided to produce those scented colored markers that you used for coloring stuff when you were little. They teach you to get strung out before you can string simple sentences together! This preempts marijuana as the "gateway drug" by YEARS.

I seem to remember reading in one of my psychology classes that the best way to learn about something is to engage as many of the senses as possible; not just the sight and sound that are usually accompanied with school, but, if possible, to engage smell, touch, and taste as well. I suppose that this was Sanford's guise for this product. But do I really need to be reminded of what black licorice smells like when I'm struggling to just color within the lines? Honestly.

And how the hell is turquoise a representative color for mango?? (I looked up their product listing)

So thanks, Sanford. I may have a solid idea for what cherry smells like, but now I'm trapped in a cage of your making.

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A Temporary Revival

It's confession time.

Back in my high school days, my friends and I became enamored with butt rock. It all started when we were at Goodwill shopping for some props for a History class skit. We found some old butt rock concert t-shirts for $0.99 (Def Leppard and Judas Priest were the originals). They were threadbare black tshirts, pictured men with leather pants, big hair, and triangular guitars. We bought them and spent the next two years collecting all the shirts we could find, and, even as a joke, listened to the bands' music...

"Why in the *$@# would you do that??" is a perfectly valid -- albeit a little obscene -- question. It wasn't because we actually liked it, or thought they were talented. I think it's for the same reason that shows like "Ripley's Believe it or Not," or people like that less-than-no-talent Asian guy that appeared on "American Idol" a few years back got famous. It was pure fascination that this genre of music, not to mention the associated culture and lifestyle, dominated the music scene and actually sold albums for a decade.

Did it get to the point where I ordered the "Power Ballads" collection from those infomercials?...almost. But high school ended, and butt rock was left by the wayside, neglected and forgotten...and rightfully so.

Until just recently. This past week I got invited to go to an 80's cover band concert: The Legwarmers. My initial motivation was to people-watch -- these kind of activities, much like medieval gatherings, have the tendency to bring the freaks out of the woodwork -- but as the band started playing, a distant echo from high school came back to me. I think it started when they played "99 Red Balloons", Tiffany's "I Think We're Alone Now" (repressed memories of TME shaking his thang in a towel came flashing back), moved to "Thunderstruck" by AC/DC, then topped it off with that Def Leppard classic: "Pour Some Sugar on Me."

Some other highlights: The drummer coming out in a full Storm Trooper uniform, helmet and all, and playing for a good full hour before he took it off; the keyboardist with wispy blonde hair, wind-swept by a conveniently placed fan under her keyboard; the groupies at the front of the crowd looking to sleep with any band member they could get their hands on.

The concert was great. Do I wish the 80s returned? Hell no. In fact, I'm glad that I was too young to remember any of it. But it sure is fun to have a short, temporary revival every once in a while. Special emphasis on short. And temporary.

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