The Virtual Happy Hour from Casa Snay

Tonight is Heaving Melon‘s Virtual Happy Hour. What’s a Virtual Happy Hour? I have no idea, but I do have a bottle cap that went down Geisha’s cleavage. Anyway, we’re getting drunk, listening to Dylan, and have vague plans to watch episodes of The West Wing and something to do with the air conditioning. Oh, yeah … TROEGS!!!!!

Drunk Snay:
drunksnay

Drunk Geisha:
geishadrunk

Do you know how much it sucks to have a beautiful chick in your apartment and know you’re not going to get to see her naked? A LOT! That’s how much! (I know, she doesn’t have a head … no one’s perfect!)

Heritage

Between my mother’s family, and my dad’s mother’s family, my genetic makeup is primarily Irish and German. But when asked about my family heritage, I don’t talk about the Irish or the German blood in my veins — instead, I take my cue from my name, the same name my grandfather’s grandparents came to this country with, from their home in Sweden.

When asked about heritage as how it relates to America, though, it isn’t to Sweden I look, but rather to England, the mother-country we rebelled from in our youth, only to reconnect with, in a different relationship form, many years later.

It’s odd how one can connect to two different places for two completely different reasons.

I had no point to make with this post.

Eyefucked by a Bull

So I pull up to this guy’s house, and the first thing I notice – how could I not? – is that there’s a giant fucking bull in the pasture. Look, my grandad had a dairy farm, I was chased around pastures by cows when I was a kid, I know how big a cow should be, I know bulls are bigger than cows, and I know that even sixty feet away, this bull was motherfuckin’ huge, black and white spotted — I didn’t know bulls came that way — with big ass horns, just stopped munching on the grass, and fixed me a gaze.

“Yo. Motherfucka. Whatcha doin’ here, bitch?” That kind of gaze. He was eyefucking me.

If you aren’t familiar with the term “eyefucked”, I didn’t make it up — I got it from David Simon, author of the best non-fiction cop book ever. Don’t believe the “urban dictionary“, which defines it as, “When you and someone else are looking at each other like you want to have wild sex.”

That might be “new school” eyefucking, but that ain’t “old school” eyefucking. Old school eyefucking is when you’re telling someone you don’t like, by use of your eyes, that you want to beat them into a fucking body bag. It’s “Man, I gonna fuck you up!” except with your eyes instead of your mouth.

Anyway, so the dude who ordered is off mowing another pasture — he’s got a big mower/blade/thing hooked up to the back of his tractor, but he sees me, I walk over towards the gate to that pasture, pays, tips okay, I leave and walk back to my car. The bull is still in the same fucking posture, still eyefucking me.

Dude needs a sign at the bottom of his long driveway: “Don’t Worry About The Dog. Attack Bull on Premises”

Star Trek: Rebooted

It turns out that a couple of years ago, two writers by the name of J. Michael Straczynski and Bryce Zabel sat down to work out a pitch on a “reboot” of Star Trek. Arguing that the Franchise (five tv shows, and a dozen movies) was cumbersome and dying, they pitched a return to the Classic — Kirk, Spock, and McCoy on a five-year mission with a purpose.

You can read their pitch through the link on Zabel’s blog. I’ll admit right off the bat to being on the fence about this — I loved Star Trek as a kid, and I’ve still got an affection for (most of) the franchise.

I love, for example, the current “reimagining” of Battlestar Galactica, but I was never a fan of the original. I love Batman Begins, but I was never a huge comic book fan, so I don’t really understand my coworker who can’t get past the idea of a “non Golden Age” Batman (whatever the hell that means).

I think the treatment for a rebooted Star Trek sounds interesting. I think it’s quite possible that even though this treatment is over two years old, it will be looked at some point in the future. When Enterprise went off the air last year, it marked the first time since 1987 that (that at least one) Star Trek series wasn’t in first-run production (TNG ran ’87-’94, DS9 ’93-’99, VOY ’94-’01, ENT ’01-’05). I think it is safe to say that, for now at least, the Franchise is dead. And I’m okay with that. I think that’s good. There are only so many stories you can tell before you start recycling ideas, and a long pause is a good thing (I still don’t know that I’m convinced a new Trek film by JJ Abrams and starring Matt Damon as Capt. Kirk is in the works).

Long story short, let the Franchise be dead for a few years, if you want my opinion on the matter. And when the time is right, take a fresh look at the entire thing — not just a new crew on a new ship, but a look like this, a look to reboot Star Trek. I think it could be done, and done well.

One of my favorite lines in the treatment (it made me laugh):

We know that the Enterprise was once infested with tiny cute Tribbles piled three feet high in some places … but what if they came equipped with an agenda, an attitude … and teeth?

Too bad this never got past “treatment” stage.

commentary track

One of the things I like best about movies on DVD are the commentary tracks often available. Usually, these are — at the most — one track wonders, brief insights into the minds of the director, writers, crew, and cast, to be listened to once and then never again. There are very few commentary tracks which, alone, are worth listening to again.

My second favorite commentary track is on the two-disc Star Trek First Contact special edition. I’ve blogged about this before, but Jon Frakes is a fuckin’ trip to listen to. He’s like a kid in a candy store.

Big Trouble in Little China is a great film — it’s quirky, funny, amusing, deep, and exciting. One of the best features of the movie is the commentary track (my favorite, ever!) on the DVD, a conversation between director John Carpenter and star Kurt Russell. It’s deep and probing and funny, discussing not only the film, but some of the basic beliefs of both in regards to their respective arts. It’s a really fascinating listen, and if you’ve seen the movie but never listened to the track, you’ve done yourself a diservice.

3 cocks, way up

An hour early.

That’s how early I was to work. Gary pulled a fast one and scheduled me today at eleven instead of ten, which is when I’m usually scheduled. S. was already in and hard at work on the prep list, which was small because yesterday was slow, so I wound up stuck in the lobby reading a book until Gary let me come on the clock.

Thankfully, I had this book in my car, Pirate Hunter: The True Story of Captain Kid, so I wasn’t stuck bleeding my knuckles drumming out strange and unintelligeble knucklebeats on the table.

Then I made a mistake — I forgot to take the book back to my car, choosing instead to leave it next to the cash register.

Today wasn’t busy, but the delivery orders were steady, and if we hadn’t had a third driver — a third driver?! barely busy enough for two! — it probably would’ve been a decent day. I made $21. Sucks. Anyway, after I checked out, I collected the book and went out to my car where I noticed the creative changes to the text, courtesy of tape and scraps of paper.

The first, in a handwritten scrawl in blue ink, reads: “The San Francisco Chronicle Raves … 3 cocks way up“. A second reads, “Pillow biting, Rump Wrangling, Sword swallowing.”

This is what I get bringing anything with the word “pirate” on it into the store.

Feast or Famine

I keep stumbling over writing this post. So I’m just gonna bullet it.

* Zebulon’s attitude pisses me off. He barely works thirty hours a week, and he’s dragging his feet more than ever. It took him ten minutes to clean the slap table last night. He’d brush, stop, take a sigh, check his cell phone, brush, stop, sigh, check his cell phone, look out the window … it’s really getting on my nerves, particularly when he drags his feet making pizzas.

* Greg’s been getting into the habit of lecturing me on how it’s my job to “help” Zebulon clean the store. Zeb is notorious for being in the store for hours and hours after closing, probably looking out the window while checking his cell phone and sighing. I have my own cleaning to do — I’ve got to mop and do the dishes. A lot of nights (it gets busier later over the summer) I’m busting my ass just to get my stuff done, and I don’t see why I need to bust my ass twice as much to help a guy who wanders around the store like he’s in a fuckin’ coma. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll help him make pizzas and answer phones, but that’s because if I don’t, I’ll never get any deliveries.

* The business is certainly feast and famine, but this is supposed to be the feast time of the year, so why is it so fucking slow? I had twelve runs last night, and that only because:

a) I pestered Zebulon to get rid of OMF, which allowed me to take a triple
b) Refire got lost on a delivery, otherwise he woulda beaten me back and gotten the only one on the screen
c) Refire wanted to leave, so he let me take a run that woulda been his — it was a credit card order with a $7 tip. What a moron.

* There was an accident last night at Jarrettsville Pike & Manor Road, shortly after it began pouring. Without finding an article about what happened, I can tell you exactly what happened. When it first beings to rain, debris on the roadway is lifted off the surface. This provides for traction difficulties, which is why its important to be careful when it starts raining. I don’t think this individual was, which explains why a firetruck, an ambulance, and a cop car were blocking the intersection forcing me to backtrack down Jarrettsville Pike and take the long way around — Stansbury to Allison back to JV Pike.

Joss on Galactica

I’m just sneaking in to say I’ve been continuing to watch BSG, the wife and I are about halfway through season one and gushing isn’t gonna cover this one. You guys have heard me gush, so it won’t have any real meaning. You have to imagine Pauline Kael bursting into song, Lionel Barrymoore In “Wonderful Life” jumping up and jitterbugging with George Bailey, the Grinch’s heart growing three sizes… you gotta start down there to explain what it feels like up here. I’ll put it simply. The show is humbling. Not since the Matrix (the first one) have I had such a strong desire to go to writing school. I think it’s so passionate, textured, complex, subversive and challenging that it dwarfs everything on TV. Or in theaters. Or boho perfomances spaces. Stuff hanging in the Tate? Not as cool. I’m not gonna go on, because I have to get back to work and because if I really start, this post will crash the internet from sheer length. Only downsides are a) I was already having a crisis of confidence, thank you very much and b) I can’t go near any Sci-Fi mags for fear of spoilers. Apart from that, life is to be loved. The Gods are to be praised. Back to the job. -j.

You really should watch it.

HT: Unofficial Battlestar Galactica blog.

Also, images of the new BSG Hasbro Titanium diecast on Rebelscum.

The Movie Meme

I usually don’t go for memes, but I like this one — it appeals to my movie buff thing. Anyway …

The Rules:
A. Pick 11 of your favorite movies.
B. Then pick one of your favorite quotes from each movie.
C. Post the quotes on your blog.
D. Have commenters guess what the movie is.
E. Place the guesser’s user name directly after the quote.
F. Extra points for knowing the actor or character’s name.

Quotes
#1 — “Hey, I’m a reasonable guy. But I’ve just experienced some very unreasonable things.”

#2 — “There! I have you! You’re completely dished. Do you not know that in the service one must always choose the lesser of two weevils?”

#3 — “Hokey religions and ancient weapons are no match for a good blaster at your side, kid.”

#4 — “I’ve lived too long, I’m in the ruck, I’ve drunk too deeply of the cup, I cannot spend, I cannot fuck, I’m down and out! I’m buggered up!”

#5 — “What can you tell me about a seven foot lunatic hacking away with a broadsword at one o’clock in the morning, New York City, 1985?”

#6 — “Oh, well, thank you very much, very nice of you. Your vote of confidence is overwhelming.”

#7 — “Is that a ten-gallon hat, or are you just enjoying the show?”

#8 — “Can I get… any of you cunts… a drink?”

#9 — “At that restaurant, I beat up the bathroom. I’m sorry.”

#10 — “Do you send my mother your clippings and your grades from college?”

#11 — “Well I always thought that archaeologists were always funny looking men going around looking for their mommies.”

Bulbs

I hate hate hate going to the grocery store during the day. I prefer going after work, when the store is nearly deserted, empty except for stock clerks and other nightowls. One of the great tragedies of my life was when the so-called gucci Giant — in Hunt Valley — started closing at midnight, instead of remaining open all night. I’ve gotten out of the two am shopping trips, but if the urge comes, I can always run down to the Giant on Ridgely. One thing I like about Giant at two or three in the morning is that the store is always brightly lit — none of this half-dark shit Superfresh does.

Preamble over …

The bulb in my refrigerator burned out a week or three ago. I don’t think I’ve ever had to replace the bulb before — well, duh, if it had burned out before, I probably never woulda replaced it to have it to burn out now — and I jotted it down on the shopping list for my supermarket trip Monday night after work.

So I get to the bulb aisle, and of course I didn’t bother to check the burned out bulb for wattage or size or anything. So I’m looking at this aisle full of lightbulbs, and I quickly zero in on the smaller-than-a-lamp bulbs. Except there seem to be various sizes of them, in various colors, and I started to panic.

Then I noticed that one was labeled “Microwave Light”, and another “Range Light.” Thank goodness — all I had to do was find the “Fridge Light”. Oh, guess what, no bulbs labeled “Fridge Light.”

I coulda just randomly bought some bulbs, in the hope I’d find one that would match, but you know what? I’ve got lights in my kitchen. Don’t need ‘em in my fridge, too.

Does This Mean I Can’t Wear my Flag Undies No More?

Free speech is a cornerstone of the foundation of the American dream — but what a lot of people, I think, often tend to forget is that it isn’t popular free speech that needs to be protected, but rather, the unpopular free speech.

Yesterday, the US Senate was one vote short of passing a constitutional ammendment to ban desecration of the flag. I can’t imagine it was actually that close, did the states already have their say? Don’t ammendments to the constitution have to be ratified by the states in addition to passing through congress?

In any case, the plan was to make desecrating the American flag unconstitutional. One presumes that in addition to banning the burning of the flag, this would include making t-shirts, scarfs, paper plates, napkins, underwear, and bumpstickers with the American flag on it unconstitutional as well.

It’s clear to me that the whoreaticians who voted in favor of this ammendment have no fucking idea what “free speech” means, and should be voted out of office as soon as possible on those grounds alone.

Hatch says the measure is needed to protect a symbol of freedom and counteract U.S. Supreme Court decisions in 1989 and 1990 that struck down state and federal laws. He cites polls showing public support and non-binding resolutions by 50 state legislatures endorsing the amendment.

“This is a setback, but it’s not a final defeat,” he said. “For protecting the Stars and Stripes, I will not give up.”

Hatch, are you that stupid? Apparently, you think the Stars and Stripes is weaked when people burn it, or, y’know, where it on their bodies or use it to dry off or what have you. But I think the Stars and Stripes are weakened when whoreaticians (that would be you, note the clever comingling of “whore” and “politicians”) try to take away and restrict the rights of the citizens for whom the Stars and Stripes are the embodiment.

Does This Mean I Can't Wear my Flag Undies No More?

Free speech is a cornerstone of the foundation of the American dream — but what a lot of people, I think, often tend to forget is that it isn’t popular free speech that needs to be protected, but rather, the unpopular free speech.

Yesterday, the US Senate was one vote short of passing a constitutional ammendment to ban desecration of the flag. I can’t imagine it was actually that close, did the states already have their say? Don’t ammendments to the constitution have to be ratified by the states in addition to passing through congress?

In any case, the plan was to make desecrating the American flag unconstitutional. One presumes that in addition to banning the burning of the flag, this would include making t-shirts, scarfs, paper plates, napkins, underwear, and bumpstickers with the American flag on it unconstitutional as well.

It’s clear to me that the whoreaticians who voted in favor of this ammendment have no fucking idea what “free speech” means, and should be voted out of office as soon as possible on those grounds alone.

Hatch says the measure is needed to protect a symbol of freedom and counteract U.S. Supreme Court decisions in 1989 and 1990 that struck down state and federal laws. He cites polls showing public support and non-binding resolutions by 50 state legislatures endorsing the amendment.

“This is a setback, but it’s not a final defeat,” he said. “For protecting the Stars and Stripes, I will not give up.”

Hatch, are you that stupid? Apparently, you think the Stars and Stripes is weaked when people burn it, or, y’know, where it on their bodies or use it to dry off or what have you. But I think the Stars and Stripes are weakened when whoreaticians (that would be you, note the clever comingling of “whore” and “politicians”) try to take away and restrict the rights of the citizens for whom the Stars and Stripes are the embodiment.