Friday, November 18, 2011

Birthday Madness

   What a bizarre couple of weeks. First I'm accused of being Harry Potter with horns on, then a friend of mine decides on a whim that he needs a Loraine-hiatus, and one by one absolutely everyone besides my mom and my cousin Carla drops out of the birthday extravaganza. For genuinely valid reasons, mind you, making it much worse since it leaves me no one to whine at. All of this conspired to put me in the absolute most stinkingly foul mood since that little skirmish at Waterloo sent Napoleon into a bit of a pout. Nothing I could do would snap me out of it. Not even being bibled was funny enough to lift the cloud- the only other times I ever feel this undeniably grey is after I read a Stephen King novel, after which I usually feel pleasantly sullied for at least a week afterwards.
    As a result I wasn't looking forward to my birthday party at all- and I'm a birthday freak; mine and other people's. It butters my soul toast, and I tend to wait the whole year for mine. When it actually rolled around, up and until the actual afternoon of the party people were still barrelling out like it was a ship on fire- again, genuinely legit reasons which just burns my ass so bad. But as it turns out, we chilled, I made daiquiris, and we played some serious 30 Seconds, so all was well.

   And yes, me and my teammate, Cousin Carla, won 30 Seconds, cause that's just how we do it. It is rather shaming that at one point she frantically yelled "Ross enters and says Hi!" and I knew she meant Macbeth though. We're a little retarded like that.
    After most people had left, I got into my PJs- as is my wont- and thought I was done for the night, but as luck had it I decided to check in on Sister Estelle. As it turned out, there was a wanton sex party going on in that room, and I'd have been damned if I wasn't going to throw in my two cents. Or rather, I sat and visited with her, Barend and their friends until well past six in the morning, at which point ALL OF THE RUM WAS GONE, as Jack Sparrow might have commented.

   Shittily though, a despite-the-odds very decent jol did not stop the grey cloud from descending upon me once again as soon as all of this was over. Brenda and bebe came over on my actual birthday, Monday, which was suitably excellent, but other than that I've not felt much like doing anything of any use whatsoever. It's depressing how useless I've been. I did watch Highlander for the first time though- a review with pictures will be forthcoming once I can call myself to action.

   Then there's the animation stuff. I did promise to share the uber-short clips I've been working on, so here're the highlights:

   That's it, really. True to form, I've made a Stephen Fry puppet to work with for the next assignment, which shall be making him jump rope. Wherever you are Mr. Fry, I apologise for the indignity, I really do.

   There's also the matter of the DVD machine. I treated myself yesterday to the tiniest little shopping spree you ever did see with some of my birthday money, thinking I'd go see a movie. I wanted to go see In Time (so sue me, it looks like a good idea), but it was only showing at about half past 7 PM and I got to the mall at 10 AM. Granted, by the time I had worked my way through the labyrinthine new parking structures Mall @ Reds seems to be erecting with constant dedication it was nearly lunch and I needed a lie-down, but still. It's a lot of time to kill. I ended up going to see Johnny English 2. Allow me to simply reiterate almost verbatim how I described it to Brenda, because it is a million degrees, there's cat hair up my nose and there does not seem to be nearly enough rum in the house to spur me to write this review a second time:
"It's not even shit enough to be shit. It simply exists. If you held the movie up to your ear you'd hear neither laughter nor the heavy panting of a physical comedian trying too hard to impress you by getting hit in the nads a lot. All you'd hear is the low him of a musical score with little to discern it from the production design and the creak of several fairly decent character actors' dignities accepting large amounts of tainted pounds sterling."
    That's nearly word-for-word how I described this to her last night, so I apologise Brenda since I know you also come here hoping for new jokes, and quite frankly you're my sandbox for these sorts of things. Everyone else at least gets the benefit of draft 2.0 with better spelling and slightly improved punchlines, and since you're reading it for the second time it means nothing to you, so I'm truly sorry for ruining the excitement you no doubt felt at the thought of reading a new blog post today. Anyway, my point being (I'm doing the whole Billy Connolly thing here: "That reminds me...") that I bought myself a handful of second-hand DVDs at Cash Converters. This makes me as happy as I could possibly have brought upon myself without the use of some handheld battery operated device since I am an android that functions on the fuel of new movies for my collection. (BTW, really cute redhead working at PQ clothing, pity I walked there from Reds and thusly was as red as Dr. Zoidberg from Futurama and looked like I had the meat sweats. Couldn't look the man in the eye. Shall have to wash my hair and make a casual appearance there again sometime sans fat-person panting.)
   I got home and naturally wanted to watch my new movies all in a row without food or toilet breaks inbetween. In our house, there are two DVD machines- mine, which can play AVI files from a flash drive which we keep in my dad's room, and my dad's that has no more remote control and periodically decides fuck you bozo and freezes when you press pre-stop on the machine itself. I, for one reason or another, (i.e. had had some more daiquiris and wanted to load some karaoke tracks onto the memory stick) had moved the good machine into my room last night along with the crappy one, and was in the process of hooking it up when I pressed something on the good machine's remote. Since I had simply paused the movie I was watching on el crappo machine, I noticed that pressing a random button on this non-related remote actually had the effect of totally losing my place in the movie. Curious. I started playing around some more, and before long, I realized that there are in fact several functions that this remote can affect on the crappy machine if I cared enough to find its parallel.

   Being of the scientific mind that I am, I made several diagrams, of which this is the most recent and accurate. The pink indications are what those buttons seem to do, and the purple ones don't do anything. This is excellent- since I'm stationed with my laptop about three feet from the TV and DVD machine at this point, it means I can do such things as switch from NTSC to PAL without having to get up from my seat! I have not yet found a button for play, pause, stop, rewind or fast forward, but I have found open, off/on, slow, frame-by-frame, zoom and loop, plus any number of number buttons. I can skip chapters though, which is invaluable.

   Here's something you must know- Community has been benched from half-season in January. That means they're taking it off the air to make space for 30 Rock for the rest of the season, which was always only going to air from mid-season because of Tina Fey's pregnancy I think. Besides for the obvious bad news that this carries (HALF AS MANY COMMUNITY EPISODES GAAAAGHGHGH), it's the first sign of genuine cancellation. WE MUST NOT LET THIS HAPPEN. What the hell would the world be like without Troy and Abed in the Moooorning? I don't even remember what life was like before the Dean and his wacky outfits, nor has paintball ever seemed such a dignified and glorious sport as it has post-paintball episodes for me. I would cry, like a LOT, if this show went away. I'm already about two steps away from losing Fringe which would make me go total bananananas, but this would just send me catatonic. #savecommunity #sixseasonsandamovie Let's get it done, people. If Two and a Half Men can survive it's lead premise vamoosing, we can save Community.

   And then lastly, before I leave you to resume my obsessive-compulsive movie watching, I remind you of the penis enlargement promises sent to me by Frederick, my favourite spam buddy. One of his correspondences urged me to visit a site called yummdick dot com, and I prophesied many a search hit from that phrase. I meant this almost entirely as an easy joke, but as it turns out, I was so fucking right. By the next day, I had already gotten two hits off of some poor souls searching the phrase "yummdick", and since then I think it's gone up to over a baker's dozen. From every search engine imaginable (seriously? You people use something other than Google? I didn't know there was anything other than Google), I have been tapped by other likewise touched individuals who wanted nothing more than to understand the message Frederick was trying so hard to spread. And like malingering STD symptoms, I think it's safe to say it has. This is what the holiday spirit is all about, I think. To show that one man on a mission can truly make a difference in the world.
   And also to prove that at least there are some people smart enough to look up an URL like "yummdick dot com" before clicking on it indiscriminately.

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