Contrary to popular belief (or fictional creation), I did not recently lose all my fingers (and, therefore, my ability to type (I enjoy cause-and-effect relationships (I also enjoy using parentheses (is this getting confusing yet? (Sorry… this was unwarranted))))) in an unfortunate accident involving hedge clippers and a couple of hangnails. Because I still have fully functioning digits and because I enjoy entertaining myself by composing text in a manner I deem fit (self, if you're reading this, thanks for all your support), here’s yet another glimpse into the things that currently occupy my thoughts… and dreams…. OK, just my thoughts.
- When I lost power for seven hours due to the recent ice storm, I had plenty of time to stop, collaborate and to listen. Unfortunately, I also had plenty of time to get very bored. Apparently my current lifestyle is very dependent on electricity. Who knew? I took three hikes out into the icy tundra (smart move for a guy who may or may not have shown the steadiness of a three-legged giraffe on roller skates when walking on some ice last winter) just to get out of my apartment. I can’t imagine what I would have done without power for seven days… I take that back, I can imagine it, and involves building forts out of everything I could find and spending time enjoying a nice pair of slacks.
- Were there really a large number of people clamoring for another “Bring It On” sequel? I’ll admit, I saw the first in the series (mostly, nay, completely because of Kirsten Dunst), but could anyone actually create a compelling story out of a movie about cheerleading. Look for this to be a concept of a new reality show in the spring, since the TV writers’ strike is still rolling.
- I have seen the preview for the new season of Lost four times today and I have felt like a chubby kid walking into Dairy Queen each time (season premiere = orange Mr. Misty… you look forward to it and you know it will be good, but if you try to take it in to quickly, your head is going to be hurting). I’m mildly obsessed with the show; unfortunately www.webmd.com does not offer tips for a “Lost” addiction.
- I’m now regretting the admission that I actually watched “Bring It On.”
- What’s the most disturbing news emanating from the recently released “Mitchell Report”? No, it’s nothing involving Roger Clemens. It doesn’t even concern someone currently active on a Major League roster. No, the news that surely dug so deep into the souls of all baseball fans that it came out the other side involved just one name – Phil. That’s right former Kansas City Royal Phil Hiatt (along with his .216 career batting average) was implicated. The third baseman seemed promising as a rookie in 1993, and his surefire trek to superstardom led one very educated 11-year-old to the belief that he should buy his Upper Deck rookie card while on vacation in Colorado. Alas, his journey to the Hall of Fame would be derailed, mostly by corporate politics (column-speak for the aforementioned career batting average). What is the moral of this story? There isn’t one. It’s just sad that I specifically remember purchasing Phil Hiatt’s rookie card for $1.25 (yet another convincing argument for those in the “Derek Has No Life” camp… current score: …how does “cripplingly depressing” translate into a numerical value?).
- I’m currently looking into a cure for the dejection that resulted from all competition on the gridiron in 2007. Thus far, I have yet to find a cure that doesn’t involve a time machine. Where are Doc Brown and the DeLorean or Rufus and the telephone booth when you need them?
- I'm glad I met my "referencing movies from my youth that involve time travel" quota in this writing.
- If there’s a more disappointing show on TV right now than Frank TV (did I mention it’s on TV), I don’t want to know about it. The man’s standup routine is uproariously (my favorite five-syllable word that starts with the letter ‘u’ and ends in “proariously”) funny, but his act doesn’t seem to translate well to a sketch show… and the on-stage segments between sketches leave me feeling like I’m encountering a close-talker (uncomfortable and awkward).
If you've read this far, have a Merry Christmas and a wonderful holiday season. If you skipped everything else just to read this final paragraph, the aforementioned holiday wishes still apply, but I also might suggest finding a new hobby.