Netflix Pix

So for our anniversary, Erin got me a subscription to Netflix. I have since been on a movie-watching kick. While they have an extensive library of Mystery Science Theater 3k movies, I've been catching up on movies that Blockbuster never seems to have. Speaking of which, let me rant about Blockbuster for a minute. Where the hell do they get off charging $5.50 for a new release? It costs me $15 to buy that movie. Since when was a rental worth 1/3 of the cost of the film. And $5 for old releases? Are you SH*TT*NG me?! I can purchase most of these movies on VHS for $0.35 on Amazon. While the challenging of Netflix's system with their own "in-store" exchange/mail-order system is interesting, I'm just tired of getting ripped off by them, and thus, they make the boycott list. Join me.

Anyway, so two movies in a row I'm left scratching my head. First The Good Shepherd then Syriana. What the hell? Is Matt Damon responsible for whats-her-face's death in TGS? Why does George Clooney go up to the Prince at the end of Syriana? I just don't understand it. Good thing tonight is Hitchcock night.

Also, a random rant about oil companies. I read in the NYTimes that oil companies are blaming Bush and the push towards "bio-fuel" alternatives for the rising cost of gasoline. Their reasoning: with a push towards bio-fuels, they have no reason to expand their refining capacity, so the cost will rise. While I understand this economically, you'd think that they'd get ahead of the curve. Oil can't continue to be our main fuel source in the long run. It's just not possible. So lead the next charge. But no, why push for future success when you can line your pockets right now. Of course, it's this type of thinking that leaves "the hard questions" like environmental issues, social security, etc. to the next generation. Smart thinking, people.

Nothin' Doin'

So on Wednesday, Erin and I took a drive down to Cape Cod to visit with her grandparents, Betty and Buster. A great time was had by all. While the details are unnecessary, suffice it to say we played 6-man pinnochle, Boys vs. Girls, and the men wiped the floor with them by about 200 points. Betty was none-too-pleased by our success. She's quite the competitive card player and cursed me out in ways I hadn't heard since high school. They then took us out to dinner where the dinner du jour was "steak tips" where I wound up getting two meals... my own hamburger, and two half-helpings of steak tips that went unfinished by the others. So, much love to them.


Mum was the word on any talk of politics as they are all highly conservative and I've been labeled "the liberal one." At one point in the conversation, Buster asked Erin directly who she was voting for and it was "game on" from then on out. Of course, I must tread lightly as I do enjoy their company. But yet another comment was made about Barack Obama being an atheist (false: his mother was an atheist and he converted to Christianity in college) and I had to lay the smack down. A number of comments were made in jest about voting for Bush again, but when I showed my knife, that talk calmed down.


Buster stated he was leaning towards Guiliani and surprising discontent towards McCain whose pro-war stance has been problematic for them. I also skimmed an article in Time magazine about Mitt Romney, but I must say that this guy is a hack who couldn't get his act together in Massachusetts and I'd sooner vote for John "Death Seeker" McCain or Guiliani over him any day. Also, surprising animosity towards these "dark-horse" candidates like Obama and Romney. It's interesting considering the level of distrust for those currently in power. I suppose the devil you know is better than the devil you don't know.

Around the House, May 22, 2007

Today I'd like to start a new segment I call "Around the House" where I take everyday objects around my "pad" and talk about them for a little bit.

Pictured to the right is my exercise bike. Used extensively from 2002-2003 as well as intermittently throughout 2005-07, this piece of machinery has revolutionized how I read. Now, 25 pages yields about 100 calories. While my fondest memories of the exercise bike involve my Harvard rejection and cranking it up to 45 rpm (as opposed to the typical 15-18), it has given me years of riding enjoyment.

Of course, as you can see, it periodically degrades into towel-dryer, CD-holder, and coat-rack. Nonetheless, it is an essential piece of my home exercise routine.

M.S.W., Master Super Woman

After two years in an intensive, grueling social work program, Erin has finally earned her Masters in Social Work degree. Working anywhere from a 40 to 50 hour work week between her field placement, part time position, and classes, Erin worked with everyone from underpriviledged children to overpriviledged college students needing help with their resumes.

Because she's modest and won't say any of this, I'd like to give people a brief glimpse of Erin's life over the past two years. From Monday to Wednesday, Erin would wake up around 6:30am to get out to the bus in time for the 1-1.5 hour commute to her field placement. During the day, she would be bounced from desk to desk without a computer essential for her job. She would make phone calls to those in dire need of help, either in receiving social services or just a crib for a poor working mother with a newborn. In the afternoons, she would go on house calls to all areas of the greater Massachusetts area to assess people's living environments, the types of services that might be useful and so forth. She would routinely get home around 6:30, just in time for dinner. Having travelled all day either on the mass transit system or within the office itself, Erin would crash for an hour to psych herself up to start her homework. She would then work until bed time (or until Project Runway was on). On Thursdays, Erin would wake up around 7:00am to get to her early morning classes, after which she would head to the Career Development Center where she pretty much ran the office. Around 4, she would head back out for her final class of the day and get home around 6:30 once again. Fridays offered a brief reprieve from all this, as she got out early at 4:00.

All the while, she had to deal with me whining and being a brat. I'm extremely proud of everything that Erin has accomplished, the people she has helped along the way, and the challenges she's accepted for her professional career. I love her very much and I'm very proud.

HOUSE PARTY!

Another "Silly Erin" moment:



After a long day of errands and galavanting about Boston, Erin and I return to our abode. Erin begins fiddling with the zipper of her sweater (pictured right). She seems to be struggling. I look over at her and watch for a full 20 seconds during which she can't seem to understand why the zipper won't go down any farther than her chest. I calmly point to the fact she's zipping the pocket zipper up and down. We laughed a hearty laugh.



Anyway, Lynn, Erin's mom, came up for Erin's graduation yesterday. They've been giggling like school girls non-stop and it's quite adorable if I do say so myself. As Erin puts it, she has a disposition that makes one want to "pinch her cheeks."

In true 'Impatient Aaron' fashion, I felt compelled to give Erin her graduation gift early. Pictures to come.


Random notes: Mets beat the Yankees again. Yankee fans don't worry, they'll turn it around. Mets fans, join me in laughing at the Yankee's misfortune. I hear that the Yankees are trying, once again, to void Jason Giambi's contract because of his past steroid use. This actually makes me want to vomit. The idea that "we want a clean image, just so long as the dirty players aren't producing" is just reprehensible. You were fine with Sheffield when he was producing, and he was implicated with Giambi and Bonds, too. Giambi did well for you last year and we didn't hear a peep about contract-voiding. You either stand for something or you don't. You made a mistake in signing him and you should live with it. Much like the Giants are now living with the most expensive dud in pitching history (that's a jab leveled at Mark, Addison, and Matt who all tried to convince me that Barry Zito was worth every penny).


Beyond that, though, let's explore the issue in another light. If steroid use is as widespread as most people seem to claim, shouldn't there be an assumption of guilt rather than an assumption of innocence? If you enter into a contract with a player, you enter into it knowing there's a percent chance they are using steroids. And since this was prior to the days where steroid use was in the public lime-light, can we really judge these people so harshly? It's not as if the team made the deal contingent on passing a drug test. I'm not saying they should skirt any repercussions, but if 70% of players are juiced, what exactly are we going to do? Void the contracts of 70% of the league? Or just void the contracts of those players that aren't doing well? Sounds bogus to me. If a team wants to legally protect themselves from steroid use AND clean up the game of baseball, they should add a line into ANY contract signed that the deal is contingent on a player passing a drug test. Obviously the Player's Union won't be happy by this, but then it's the right of the player not to sign to such a contract.

Note: I have absolutely no understanding of privacy laws as proved by this post. Nonetheless, it's like Universal Health Care. It just seems logical.

Incident 1: Erin walks into the bathroom. Five minutes later she walks out holding a single sock.
"Aaron? Something odd just happened. I walked into the bathroom and took off my socks, but I can't find the other sock."
"Are you sure you didn't take them off before you went in?"
"Yes."
Nervous searching yields nothing. Five minutes later, Erin sits down. I turn to her.
"Are you serious?" I ask.
"Yes!"
"It's tucked in your pants."

Columbus sailed the ocean blue while Erin and I went to their Zoo

In true NewsRadio fashion, Erin and I took a break from our searching for a "zoo day" in Columbus, OH (in episode 95,"Freaky Friday," Matthew asks for a day off to go to the zoo to clear his head which prompts him and Jimmy to switch jobs for the day... and hilarity ensues). While Erin's quirky, inexplicable yet virulent animosity towards Ohio waned briefly in our stay, it peaked when she learned they had no giraffes at their zoo. Regardless, a great time was had by all.








Much like Squints in her prime, La Tigre here is quite content to chase away the afternoon blues lounging in his hovel. He's a Virgo, enjoys long walks on the beach, and reaking animal carcass for dinner.






This here is the oldest ape in captivity munching on some grass. I can't help but feel that's how I'll look after 65 years of marriage. Just kidding. Oh god. Make her stop hitting me! Of course, after writing that joke, I realized it's not the oldest ape in captivity, its the oldest ape BORN in captivity. And yet, the joke remains.




This here is perhaps the most interesting thing Erin and I saw. You'll notice it's just like any normal koala bear except that it has recently given birth. If you look closely, there is a face sticking out of this koala's belly. That is it's child whom the mother was feeding moments before this shot was taken.












Here's Erin making her best elephant impression.




Here's me doing every Anderson proud. Be nice to me or a lifesize cardboard cut-out of this picture may wind up on your doorstep this Christmas. For more information on flamingoes and Anderson's, please see Ruth.

The Great American Dew-Park

In a brief stop in Cincinnati, Erin and I had the good fortune of catching a Reds-Astros game at The Great American Ballpark. While the name conjours up images of bald eagles and Valley Forge, there is nothing particularly "Great" or "American" about the park. A beautiful park to be sure, but "Great"? I think not.


Thankfully, no one important pitched, nor played, as both Cincinnati and Houston and utterly devoid of interesting players. I honestly racked my brain about which member of the starting lineup I could conceivably take an interest in and found absolutely none. Fortunately, the company was stupendous.


Directly in front of us was a man with his nine year-old daughter and one of her friends. He seems to have been shafted since all of HIS friends were in the upper deck seats, drinking and laughing while he quietly cussed to himself about the ill luck of Brandon Phillips. The two young girls bounced up and down like crazed monkeys through most of the game which was fun enough, until the Cincinnati Red "cheerleader party patrol" remiscent of the "Mike Piazza dancers" envisioned of old, decided to make their row the "winning row" in the entire stadium. As winners, they were all entitled to a free bottle of Mountain Dew Livewire which does much as its name suggests. I don't know if the beverage itself was blood red, but within a few minutes of these nine-year olds engorging themselves on the sweet satanic nectar, their mouths were rimmed with crimson and their eyes grew bloodshot. Thankfully, the father didn't seem too concerned with the girls who leaned over the railing, shook their carbonated beverages at one another and screamed with unearthly glee.


Of course, I can't tell if they were worse than the 82 sorority girls/fraternity boys that decided to wear matching outfits to spell something out in the bleachers. Through snippets of drunken conversation I heard tell that they were trying to spell 'Cinncinnati Reds' but Erin swears to high heaven she saw a "K/" While I was unable to confirm this, not once in the entire game did they ever sit in order nor organize a cheer of some sort. So suffice it to say, it was just 82 college kids wearing undershirts emblazoned with their favorite letters of the alphabet. Thank god for "Hooked On Phonics." At one point, "N" got up and excused herself. WHen she returned, she said she was given a warning for smoking in the bathroom. 30 minutes later, she went back out to smoke again.


Please to enjoy:








Shameless Advertising for our Corporate Sponsors. Erin asked me to pose, and this is what I came up with.



I'm not sure what happened here, but rest assured, it will probably happen again. In fact, it's happening right now.

More Mid-West fun

The sun loomed overhead like a vulture swooping around its prey, waiting for the last gasp. Our heads hung in the heat like laundry on a wire, left to dry too long. Traffic choked the interstate, threatening the freedom that only the horizon could promise. Erin (played by Catherine Zeta Jones) turns to me. "We gotta get off this road," she croaks, her voice and lips cracking. "Make it happen, Number One," I respond.


Unfolding the creased contours of our map, contours that had no right to exist in a land so flat, Erin navigated our way off the highway and on to the less congested streets of Bum-wad County, IN. Armed with her wits and the setting sun, she set our course and I followed direction. Miles passed behind us. Schools and trailer homes, villas and farms, fields and natural, unblemished, fresh-water aquatic environments waved us on.

The sky was angry that day, my friends. Like an old man, trying to send back soup at a deli. (Seinfeld, The Marine Biologist). Then, in the distance, it rose up to meet us. Like a finger of god reaching out from the crust of the earth itself........

The world's largest rocking chair

I tell you, it was a hundred feet tall if it was an inch. The wood thick and dark like a fine maple syrup. I walked up to the giant chair as it creaked in the wind. I said "EASY big fella!"


Anyway, Erin and I got some pictures with it. Please to enjoy:

Gary Indiana Gary Indiana Gary Indiana

Some pictures from our recent trip to Indiana


Welcome to Lafayette, home of... Purdue students.

Also, home to the "Fish Snacker." I must admit, I took this picture for the amusement of Matt Cook.

My new speed limit.

Some classic gems from our last trip. More recent stuff to come:
Me: Are you thirsty?
Erin: No.
Me: You want a Sprite?
Erin: No, I'll wait
Me: Okay, I'm going to get one.
Erin: Ooooo, I'll have some.

-or-

Erin: Do you want anything?
Me: Yeah, some gummy bears.
Erin: Eww, I hate gummy bears.
Me: But they're from the Black Forest
Erin: Are they German?
Me: Sure
Erin: Eww
Me: Fine, you can't have any.
Erin: Fine
Me: Not even the red ones.
Erin: IT'S MY RIGHT!!!

Inaugural Post

Erin and I (mostly myself, Erin is under duress) will be posting our thoughts, musings, and photos as we begin an extensive journey into the Heart of Darkness. Just to get the ball rolling and to catch everyone up, Erin graduates from BC (Boston College) with her MSW (Master of Social Work) in 3 days. She is VE (Very Excited). She's also been ILL for the past week (ill, I just wanted to accentuate how sick she was), but is now on the mend. I was accepted into a PhD (Doctor of Philosophy) program at Purdue University for English Literature, so we'll be moving out to Lafayette, Indiana in mid-July.

Things happening right now that you'll be kept abreast of:

1. My brother's wedding
2. Our move
3. My new program and classes
4. Erin's new job
5. The progress of my fantasy baseball team
6. The political unrest in Iraq
7. Why kittens are cute

Anyway, more to come.

Note: The title of this blog, though subject to change, is taken from an episode of "The Office" in which Michael writes a thriller novel called Threat Level Midnight starring himself as "Michael Scarn" and Catherine Zeta Jones as the lovely secretary. Erin and I are still trying to decide who gets to play CZJ.