Karaoke is singing. I mean, bad, awful, oh my god chop my ears off or pour quick-set concrete into them singing, but singing none-the-less!
Singapore. Little city-state deal somewhere in Asia. Name starts with sing. SING.
You’d think nothing would go better together than Singapore and karaoke.
The annual summit of the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) is held to coordinate action on such weighty topics as democracy, economic integration, and climate change. But since 1995, every diplomat worth his or her salt has known that the real reason everyone attends ASEAN is for the infamous skit in which the pan-Pacific power elite get to ham it up, summer-camp style. But don’t think it’s all fun and games. When national pride and diplomatic standing are at stake, skits are serious business.
…Notorious killjoy Singapore cut out the skits at ASEAN amid suggestions, including by ASEAN’s secretary-general, that the song-and-dance numbers were getting too competitive. Sadly, the world won’t get to see if Hillary Clinton can top her predecessors.
I am not a coffee person. Like, at all. I don’t like the taste, the sight, and especially the smell of coffee. In fact, when I started working at the Bookstore, I had to avoid the cafe because the entire area reeked so much of coffee that it made my stomach churn.
It’s funny, as I’m a generally unhealthy person: I mean, I drink milk, I drink water, I walk to and from destinations as much as possible, but I still eat crap food, drink too much beer and too much soda, and I could probably find time to spend in the gym if I was so motivated. But in terms of keeping my eyes open, I prefer to actually shut my eyes and take a long nap on my Metro ride to or from work.
So, really, the only offering that could possible get me through the front doors of a Starbucks, is this:
The Seattle-based company is testing out a new concept in its hometown: coffeehouses that also serve beer and wine and host live music and book and poetry readings. You know, like what a local coffeehouse used to look like — before Starbucks
Mmm. Beer!
Ironically, I am currently reading “How Starbucks Saved My Life” by Michael Gates Gill [shameless pimping](we’ve got lots of copies of the paperback in our bargain section – $3.99)[/shameless pimping]. Although his prose is a little clunky, and it has a tendency to read like a promotional brochure, it’s redeemed by the tale of how a successful man in his 60s found happiness working in a coffee shop after losing his well paying white-collar job.
In the same way Gill finds satisfaction schlepping lattes, I’ve mentioned a few times to colleagues at the Office that I get most of my job satisfaction from my blue-collar job at the Bookstore: I think that’s because, instead of just typing names and numbers into a web-content database over and over again, I am actually able to feel and see the results of a long Saturday shift: the sweat on my collar, the customer with the anal sex book she couldn’t find, the naked homeless guy running around the store screaming “Wheeeee!”
I have no desire to work at Starbucks.
I can, however, walk into our cafe on occasion. But I never get coffee.
Also, the Bookstore licenses with a Seattle-based coffee chain for the in-store cafe. That chain is owned by Starbucks. So, I guess, technically …
About three and a half years ago, the sister of a friend of mine was murdered. Her death made national headlines as the “MySpace Murder.” Her murderer, John Gaumer, was convicted and sentenced to life in prison. His victim’s death was horrifically violent and totally senseless: she changed her mind about going home with him, and to thank her, he beat her to death, then violently mutilated her body to obscure her identity.
WBAL, the NBC-affiliate TV station (and a radio station, too) has been engaged in a legal battle with the Brown family over digital copies of Gaumer’s “disturbingly graphic” confession. Maryland’s Court of Special Appeals ruled in WBAL’s favor.
I understand that there is a need for the public to have access to materials which are considered public record, but frankly, airing part of Gaumer’s confession seems less like “news reporting”, and more like the sort of voyeurism that has led to stories about Michael Jackson still getting top billing on CNN a month after he died.
Whose interest is served by airing this footage? I’ll tell you whose interest isn’t: Josie’s orphaned daughter. If it’s gotta be public record, fine. But that doesn’t mean WBAL has any sort of journalistic obligation or imperative to air the footage. Frankly, this sort of sensationalism is part of the reason a whole lot of people are still talking about how Walter Cronkite’s death marked the end of journalism.
Although WBAL won the legal battle, I hope they never air the footage, and I hope you feel this way, too. Contact WBAL:
General Manager Jordan Wertlieb can be e-mailed at jwertlieb@hearst.com, and telephoned at 410-338-6403 (direct).
News Director Michelle Butt can be e-mailed at mbutt@hearst.com, and telephoned at 410-338-6501 (direct).
(Russia also invades Poland from the other side: everybody forgets this.)
Britain & France declare war. This is the ‘official’ kick-off.
Italy, Bulgaria, Hungary, & Romania all join the German side. (Everybody forgets the last three.)
Axis forces go through Europe like vindaloo through a colostomy.
Nazis exterminate Jews, gays, gypsies, & the disabled. (everybody remembers the jews but forgets the rest.)
UK holds out.
Russia & the USA don’t do shit.
Entire divisions of Danish, Belgian, Dutch, Norwegian, French & Serbian volunteers join the Axis armies & SS. (everybody forgets this & to listen to them now, they were all in the fucking resistance, which must have been MASSIVE.)
Axis forces invade Russia. Suddenly the Russians don’t think it’s funny any more.
Japan joins the Axis & bombs Pearl Harbor.
Suddenly the US doesn’t think it’s funny any more.
The USA tools up the world, ’cause it’s got more factories than everybody else put together, & they’re out of bomber range.
Axis runs out of steam in Russia, cause Russia’s enormous & bloody freezing.
Allies invade on D-Day… 5 landings: 2 British, 2 American, 1 Canadian. (everybody forgets the Canadians.)
Hitler ends up smouldering in a ditch. Russians find the body & confirm he only had one ball. Seriously.
The US decides invading stuff is a pain in the ass and invents the atom bomb instead. Drops two buckets ‘o sunshine on Japan.
Russians steal half of Europe.
UK’s spent almost every penny it had.
US starts telling everybody how it was all about them, & 64 years later is still doing so.
This made me shoot hot chocolate out of my nostrils. NOT FUN.
I’m sorry, coworker, but when your first message to me in a gchat is “fuckyeahbabyanimals”, it is perfectly reasonable for me to ask if you are, by chance, into beastiality (is it possible to be a pedaphiliac beastialiac* if you have sex with underage animals?) Thankfully, you’ve got a sense of humor. Also, if you’d just sent the actual URL?, I wouldn’t have spent several minutes trying to figure out if you’d come up with a clever way to get me fired. “Check it! He’s surfing animal porn on the clock**!”
Anyway: FYBA. Because unlike some people, cute animals in adorable poses make my heart get all warm and mushy and my eyes damp.
*Is there any actual term for someone who practices beastiality? I mean, besides “farm boy”? Yeah, I wonder what Luke was doing with those womp rats when he wasn’t using them for target practice…
**Silly woman — that’s why I have the internet on my phone. Because I’m smart like that.
Of the films I wish I’d seen in theaters, 2003′s Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World tops the list. Based on two of Patrick O’Brien’s Napoleonic War British Navy novels, Russell Crowe played Jack Aubrey, captain of the Frigate Surprise, who, along with his best pal, Dr. Stephen Maturin (Paul Bettany), and a brave crew, pursue a French warship into the Pacific Ocean to prevent the disruption of Britain’s whaling fleet.
I loved the film — actually, I thought it was perfect — and it inspired me to hunt down O’Brien’s novels on eBay. I’ve got all 20+ of the series, although, admittedly, I can’t read more than three in a row before needing to switch to something different. You can imagine, then, how excited I was to read a clip on DigitalBits that “Actor Russell Crowe is apparently in early negotiations to reprise his role as Captain Jack Aubrey in a sequel to the 2003 film Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World.”
The film would be based on the 11th book, The Reverse of the Medal. There’s not much more on the interwebz about the project, aside from this Winnipeg Sun article. I hope Peter Weir returns to the director’s chair.
I don’t quite know what I did to my foot, but I do know that I need new shoes. When you consider all the walking I did, the blisters I already had, and the skin sloughing away from now disappeared blisters, my right foot is a mess of hot burning pain and agony, even when I’m not putting any weight onto it.
As a result, I did something I hate doing: I called out of work tonight, at the Bookstore.
If I hadn’t taken Friday off from the Office, I might’ve not gone in today, either. But I did — oh well, right? I don’t really mind taking PTO from the Office (it’s a combination of vacation and sick time), but I don’t want to use it all up at once, either. Taking time off from the Bookstore — there’s nothing like PTO there, especially for part-time folks like me. No work, no pay. Plus, by calling out, management has to try to locate someone to cover my shift, difficult at the last-moment. And if they can’t find a replacement, they’re working with one less staffer — one less person to help customers, ring on the register, or stock shelves.
So I don’t do it. This is possibly the third or fourth time I’ve called out in sixteen months of employment there. I like being dependable.
In all seriousness, however, there’s no way I can stand — literally, my right foot hurts even when there’s no weight on it. Standing is painful, walking moreso. I can walk on the edge of my foot, or on my heel, but both ways are awkward, clumsy, and presents their own challenges. Getting through an entire night where walking and standing is a big part of the job is a no-go.
I considered hobbling up to DSW — there’s one less than a fifth of a mile from the Office, but I think it’d be too painful, and sadly, all of my coworkers who have their own transportation seem to be out of the office today, leaving just we public transportation commuters. Maybe tomorrow (depending on how much energy I have after my redeux trip to the DMV).
I’ll be stopping at CVS on my hobble home this evening for some Epsom salt, and I’ll be spending the evening with my feet in a bucket of hot water and a movie on the TV.
Stealing people’s comments from my Facebook page for blog post titles — I’ve hit a new low (thanks, Al).
We’re in the final stages of our massive store re-arrangement that we’ve been working on for the last three weeks. Today I spent the day on my knees, lying flat, doing a whole ton of screwing. Now, minds, out of gutters, ‘k? I had a drill, and I was screwing and unscrewing endcaps from bookshelves, and bookshelves from each other.
What did we do with the bookshelves? Some of them we’re keeping, and just rearranging within the store. Many were given away to some of our sister stores, what was left over was hauled out to the loading dock and thrown away. We had several people from other stores in to help, including one guy who showed up in slacks, a button-up, and a tie! A tie, really? For manual labor?
We dismantled the old Popular Fiction shelves, including Romance. And I got to have fun with a run of DVD shelving which refused to come apart.
Look — these are pretty solid, industrial shelving (y’know, ‘cept out of wood, not metal). They come in segments of two: Both units are built so that they lean into each other — a brace runs horizontally at the top, and vertically at the bottom, to keep them sturdy. Unscrew the upper brace, get the screws out of the sidewalls to detach it from the units on either side, pull it free, then remove the lower brace, then pull the units apart and lay them on their sides.
In any case, while most of the bookcases were open-topped, the media run had a top shelf, a “roof” if you will). The problem was that the “roof” made it nearly impossible to get to the screws on the top shelf-wall, which held it to the upper brace, so, I got creative, walked to the phone, and paged for a staff member to locate a crowbar and bring it over.
“Best announcement ever!” a coworker gave me a thumb-up on it.
Crowbar in hand, I got the roof off pretty quickly, and was then able to unscrew the unit from the crossbeam attaching it to the unit on the reverse.
“Um.” A manager said, looking at the assorted boards propped up against another bookshelf. Nails protruded at weird angles.
“You said take them apart.”
“Yeah … but …”
“You didn’t say how to take them apart.”
Right? Because if you tell me to break a bookshelf down, you don’t really have room to complain as to how I choose to do it, yes?
Also: I liked handling drills and crowbars today. Not only did I get a great workout today, what with walking to and from work, and then manhandling heavy pieces of furniture, but I got to feel uber manly!
It was very good, but it was neither perfect, nor my favorite of the film series.
I can remember, quite clearly, a conversation my friend Sam and I had back in high school, regarding Star Trek: The Next Generation. In specific, we were arguing, were the writers, or the actors, more integral to the show? I argued that the writers were the most important part, because if you didn’t have the writers, what exactly would the actors do? Given the quality of some of that show’s episodes, I may have been on the losing side of the argument, but if a work of film media, be it a TV show or a movie, is like a human body, then the script — the story — is the bones upon which all else, the acting, the directing, the cinematography and art design, the music, is layered upon.
If you start with a bad story, then people will say: “It was a good popcorn film”, or, “the special effects were really neat.” “It was totally worth seeing in the theater!” But if that’s the case, it is not a movie that twenty years from now they’ll be quoting on Twitter. Lord knows, I cannot count the number of times someone throws out a Princess Bride quote on that micro-blogging site.
I think one of the reasons I enjoyed Order of the Phoenix so much is because the screenwriter, Michael Goldenberg, was willing to try to capture the tone of the book, without necessarily being true to all the aspects of the book’s plot. I cannot read Order of the Phoenix without feeling an overwhelming sense of dread and doom — and the same is true for the movie. In broad strokes, Goldberg captured what Steve Kloves, who’d adapted the previous four films, had failed to accomplish.
Now, disclaimer: I don’t know how much impact the director has on the script. For all I know, the directors of each previous film was standing over Kloves’ shoulder as they tried to figure out what needed to stay, and what needed to be cut. In that case, credit should probably go to David Yates as much as the writer. In fact, after watching The Half Blood Prince, I think this latter assumption is probably correct.
Half Blood Prince wasn’t great — but it was very, very good.
I attended an afternoon showing at the Uptown Theater in DC. I love that place, really, I do, but I’m wondering why I bought a ticket — no one was there to check the ticket, and indeed, even the person in the ticket booth seemed so engrossed in her phone that I probably could have just walked in without being challenged. Clearly, I am an upstanding citizen of good moral character, right?
I was worried about attending the showing for another reason: kids. Yes, including teenagers. While the theater was nowhere near as empty as when I saw State of Play, it was pretty full. Fortunately, most of the young folks in the theater were teenagers, and I guess it’s either a testament to Harry Potter‘s ability to captivate, or to DC’s young theater going population, that the crowd was extremely well behaved: okay, there was clapping at certain points (like when Ginny and Harry kiss), but I thought that only added to the experience (sort of like when I went to see Snakes on a Plane opening night and the whole packed theater screamed along with Samuel L. Jackson’s famous line from that film).
It’s been half a year since I last read the book, so I’m a bit rusty on all the intricate details of the plot. The bare bones are the same: Harry stumbles across a Malfoy plot to injure someone in Hogwarts, at the bequest of Lord Voldemort. Meanwhile, Harry is using a used potions book, which once belonged to “The Half Blood Prince”, with incredibly detailed notes which allow him to succeed at his potions lessons. Also, Dumbledore has been leaving the castle looking for Voldemort’s horcruxes, through which he has stored pieces of his soul and made himself virtually immortal — Dumbledore is using his Pensive, and his own memories, to reveal to Harry much of Voldemort’s past.
As always, while Harry, Ron, and Hermione get plenty of screen time, most of the cast is relegated to what could be described as extended cameos. I literally jumped at the Katie Bell-gets-cursed sequence, which, in tone, reminded me a lot of The Exorcist. From a CGI perspective, the Gryffindor/Slytherin Quidditch match is light years ahead of what was done on the early films. There were certain liberties taken with the story, the one I found most egregious is discussed later, but: there is a sequence which I’m pretty sure is not in the book, where several Death Eaters attack the Weasley home and torch it.
However … the ending was very disappointing. If you’re reading this, you’ve probably read The Half Blood Prince, and you know it ends with Snape betraying Dumbledore and killing him. The death scene has been somewhat retooled — Harry is not immobilized by Dumbledore and hidden under his invisibility cloak. The fight sequence in Hogwarts is non-existent, but truthfully, neither of these movie liberties disturbed me –
– but what did bother me was the ending. Like, final scene ending. At the end of the book, there’s a funeral sequence where Harry announces his intentions not to return to Hogwarts to Ron and Hermione. In the film, this conversation takes place on the tower Dumbledore was killed. There is no funeral sequence, and while I can understand why from a logistical standpoint it might have been difficult to shoot, I for one would have liked to have the final conversation over Dumbledore’s tomb.
Finally, a sad note: during a dining sequence, several characters take a crack at a student named Marcus Belby, who is quite invested in his desert. Actor Robert Knox, who played Belby, was stabbed and killed shortly after finishing his role on the film. His killer was convicted and sentenced to life last March.
For quite some time, I’ve been keeping my ear to the ground regarding the much rumored director’s cut of Harry Potter & The Sorcerer’s Stone. Honestly, it’s kind of hard to imagine “why bother?” — the first film is almost slavishly devoted to the book, and the cut scenes available on the second disc of the original release don’t really seem to do much for the film. Anyway, The Digital Bits posted a tidbit the other day about new planned Blu Ray releases for the first two films of the series, and although specific information is stillnot available (including a release date), I wonder if this could be the director’s cut? It might even be worth triple-dipping for.
In any case, I’m about to head off to the Uptown for the 12:00 showing of the new Harry Potter film. I have my fingers crossed that a.) it’ll be great! Certainly, I haven’t heard anything negative yet. And b.), that the theater won’t be packed with kids. I had been thinking, “Oh, it’s noon, on a school day.” Because apparently I am dumb enough to forget that it’s summer vacation.
Right up until I got to the counter where DMV employees vet* your paperwork to determine whether you can proceed, or must depart, my trip to the District’s DMV location in Georgetown was fantastic. Well, I mean, aside from the dude with sweaty pits standing next to me on the Circulator.
My alarm usually goes off at 5:30. I am usually on the Metro platform shortly after six, and at work by seven. Today? By the time my alarm went off — at 6:45 — I’d awakened on my own, read from a book, checked my assorted internet haunts, and was eating yogurt for breakfast. Seriously: vanilla yogurt with grape nuts not only tastes fantastic, but it fills you up and tastes great! Did I mention it tastes good, too?
Getting my license converted is something I have continued to put off, and put off, and put off. It’s sort of been a comedy of errors — the first time I went, I totally forgot to bring my social security card. The second time I went, the line was about 400 people long, and the third time I went, I forgot to check their hours, and spent an hour waiting for them to open until someone told me, “You know they’re closed on Mondays, right?” Thankfully, there were about half a dozen other idiots waiting with me, so at least I had company — I didn’t have to make a ‘I’m too stupid to check the internet to find out the DMVs operating hours’ walk-of-shame.
My Maryland license expires in under a month, and it’s clear that “shunting it off until next week”, just isn’t something I can continue to do. Conferring with a DC blogger familiar with the Georgetown DMV, I was told the best time to go was the middle of the week, at the middle of the month — and indeed, although there were about two dozen people ahead of me when I arrived at the mall (the DMV is located on the basement level), once the location opened, I only had to wait about ten minutes before arriving at the vetting counter.
And there I got the bad news: I’m going to have to go back.
The District offers what I thought was a fairly comprehensive list of what documents a person needs to bring with them to convert an out-of-state license to a DC license. What snagged me was “proof of identity“. “Do you have a passport or birth certificate?” I was asked when I got to the counter. “Neither, but –” But that was it, no appeal: I needed either my passport (I don’t actually have one) or my birth certificate.
The online information form states that as an individual, I must “provide at least one primary source document or two secondary source documents.” I had none of the primary sources (although my mother stuck my birth certificate into a letter and mailed it this morning, bless her heart), but secondary sources? I did have a certified copy of my college records from Towson University, and an unexpired identification card issued by a government agency — namely, my Maryland driver’s license. That should work, right?
No go.
I don’t know whether the fault belongs with the clerk for not being aware of these requirements (he was very polite, very professional, and very, very firm on what documentation I needed), or on the District itself for updating its license standards, without appropriately updating the DMV website.
Going through my folder of documentation on my way back to Farragut North (bless the Circulator!), I realized I have another issue that might’ve tripped me up, even if my transcripts had been accepted: a non-expired lease is necessary as a “primary source” for the “proof of current residency” requirement. My lease was signed and dated from early June 2008, for a lease term of one year starting July 1st (I actually moved into the apartment mid-month, so I had a 12-and-a-half month lease, until the end of June 2009).
Now, the DC website states that a lease can be accepted if it has been “issued within the last 2 years with the name of lessee or renter”, but just to be on the safe side? I’m going to track down a utility bill, which can also be used as a primary source. The only problem here? I’m billed by e-mail from Pepco and Comcast, so I’ll have to ask them to send me a paper bill (I doubt the DMV will take an e-mail print-out address to malnurturedsnay@gmail).
Although this is turning out to be a pain-in-my-ass, I worked an extra-long day yesterday to make up for the time I’d miss today, it will be well worth it once I’m finally walking out of the mall with a DC license in hand: for $44 smackers, you get a driver’s license that is valid for eight years. That’s pretty damned awesome!
Also: although I joke about the DMV being the Temple of Doom, the reality is that I could have only had a more pleasant experience if I’d been properly prepared (I still kind of think I was properly prepared, but I’d rather take the blame myself than assuming an “I’m always right mentality”, which I sort of have too much of as it is). All the employees I interacted with were friendly and professional, and the location was clean and well organized. Obviously, this might change if you go at the end of the day.
*Yes, I know I spelled the word wrong, and y’know? “vette” in the way that I’m using it might be totally made up! The internet has been a dictionary & thesaurus FAIL today. UPDATE – thanks, @mmmknowledge: “@MalnurturedSnay the verb is ‘vet’; derived from horse racing, and therefore from the noun vet” and @lucifex: “From wikipedia: To vet was originally a horse-racing term, referring to the requirement that a horse be checked for health and soundness by a veterinarian before being allowed to race. Thus, it has taken the general meaning ‘to check.’”
UPDATE 7/16:
I’d emailed the DMV last week about my paperwork, in particular, whether one item could fulfill two categories (i.e., could I use my Maryland license both as “proof of identity” and “proof of ability to drive.” Yesterday afternoon, they finally replied to my e-mail:
No, you can not use your Maryland driver’s license for both, proof of your ability to drive and as a secondary source of proof of identity. It must be one or the other. If you decide to use the driver’s license as proof of your ability to drive, you must provide one primary source document or two secondary source documents, as listed below, to show proof of identity.
I think that’s a little silly (why can’t a driver’s license be both?), but at least it is consistent.
I was reading The Express on my commute on the Metro (first car on a Red Line train, either ‘cuz I’m dumb, or really brave), and I got a big goofy grin on my face when I reached an article about Quidditch — the flying broomstick sport from Harry Potter — being adapted for play on the ground:
The basic goal is to score more points than the other team by throwing a volleyball (“quaffle”) through the opposing team’s vertical hoops to score 10 points — while dodging kickballs (“bludgers”) thrown by the other team. Each team has a “keeper” who essentially plays the role of a goalie in front of the hoops. At the same time, one “seeker” on each team must try to grab the “snitch” (essentially, a tennis ball in a tube sock carried by someone running around the field who’s not on either team). Catching the snitch is worth a whopping 30 points and ends the game.
I don’t know about you, but the image of a guy running around a field with a tennis ball in a tube sock made me snortle. Apparently, he’s got to wear a weird little gold costume, as evidenced by a photo on the College Quidditch website.
I think this is pretty damn awesome! I mean, I would never play — and not just because I would be fearful of a broomstick placed between my legs, but also because I’m pretty much the most non athletic person in the world. My idea of a triathlon is how my two-mile walk to and from my part-time job breaks down in “legs”: there’s the hike from work to Dupont, from Dupont to the top of that damn hill, and then from the Taft bridge to my apartment. Hey — it is a hike! (‘specially with the blisters and all).
However, while it may in fact be considered dorky and weird to adapt such a game for Muggle play (those of you not in the know, “muggle” is the non-offensive in-series term for non-magical humans), I can in fact completely out-dork and out-weird it (if you read the title of this post, this should not be a surprise): I once built a fairly large model of Hogwarts Castle out of Lego.
Yes really. And it was tall, too. How tall?
About seven feet (I’m 5’10). I was literally standing on my tippy-toes on a chair to put the finishing touches on the large tower.
Eventually, that tower collapsed (took out the Owlery tower, too, on the way down), and had to be rebuilt, and the castle was shorter, after that. And of course, when I made the decision to move to DC, I had to take the whole thing apart. It was quite a smash-fest. Currently, the castle’s remains are packed into several large plastic bins in my closet. I do hope — someday — to build a larger and awesomer version, because really, it doesn’t matter how old I am: I’ll always be a Toys ‘R’ Us kid.
A not-quite-as-complete-as-I-would-have-liked galleries can be found here, here, and here.
