So, I've been alone all weekend. Marie has gone to her uncle Jim's 75th birthday celebration in Chicago, leaving me and Ellie the Cat to hold down the fort in her absence. Though nothing major has happened, I felt the need to write some of this stuff down, as this blog needs to reclaim its status as the place where I vent the random thoughts that enter my brain.
*Ellie has recently started drinking out of the sink. On the spectrum of adorable things that cats do, drinking from the sink is very close to the top. She just sticks her head towards the faucet, turns it sideways, and laps at the top of the stream. While this is super-cute, it also shows the difference between Marie and I in terms of how we believe kitty-parenting should work. Marie is from the "do things for the cat" school of thinking, so when the cat wants to drink from the faucet, Marie picks the cat up and puts her back down when she's done. I, on the other hand, believe that the cat needs to show that she really wants it. This means she has to jump up and jump down of her own volition, which I believe has the added benefit of giving the cat a workout (and every little bit helps). I don't know what this difference says about us as parents/people, but its probably significant in some way.
*Along with our Verizon package, we got 3 free months of Cinemax/HBO. As our cable package isn't as all-inclusive as our Comcast was, I spend a fair amount of my TV time watching movies, and have come to two realizations:
1. I have a very specific movie-categorizing system. There are movies I don't like/dont want to see, movies that I want to see, and movies that I'd be willing to pay for at the actual theater. Marie likes to give me grief when I (inevitably) like one of the movies that I told her I didn't want to go see at the theater (Get Smart and Yes Man being the two most recent candidates). The thing is, given that you have to pay for movies at the theater, I usually don't go unless I'm reasonably sure that it's gonna be good. This has managed to keep me away from seeing awful movies in the theater for the better part of my life; avoiding all Jack Black movies has also contributed to this, since he's been responsible for 2 of the 3 worst movies I've seen in theaters.
2. HBO and Cinemax have three distinct types of movies. First, there are the good movies. I've gotten a few movies off of my "I need to see this" list, including Gran Torino and Funny People, since I've had premium channels, which is super-helpful. Second, there are the BAD movies. I don't know who makes the programming decisions at these channels, but there is no reason that Bio-Dome, Meet The Spartans, or both need to be on at any time, much less at all times. Third, there's the interestingly named porn. I have yet to indulge in this, as there is no reason to be up at 3am, but the fact that there is a movie called The Devil Wears Nada (The Hills Have Thighs and Cleavagefield being the other best names) makes me smile inside.
*I'm not very good to myself when I'm home alone. I don't go to sleep until late, and worse, I don't eat well. Friday night's dinner was a sub I picked up at Harris Teeter, and I only ate lunch yesterday, though to be fair, I ate my weight in enchiladas at Shaun's house while watching the US-Ghana game. This is part of how i managed to lose 40lbs in a year; while I love to cook, I feel very little need to do it for myself. I'm trying to stop that for tonight, and I'm making a brisket which will hopefully make for an excellent picnic dinner tomorrow at the outdoor Star Trek screening. I'm banking on the fact that Marie (who doesn't have her computer with her) won't read this, so that the food will be a surprise, but I'm also convinced that she'll act happy and surprised anyway.
May all your hits be crits,
B
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Friday, June 18, 2010
Reflections on a Screwjob
Allow me to set the stage:
In the first half, Slovenia had surprised the US, who had somehow forgotten that being favored in a game does not mean that you are exempt from playing defense and trying to control the ball. Slovenia scored twice, no thanks to some lousy efforts by the US defense and midfield. Equally bad was the fact that we were unable to make any real headway against their defense, and I was legitimately worried going into the second half.
Fortunately, in the second half, the US remembered what they are really good at: coming back from deficits that are their own fault (let's hope we're this good when it comes to dealing with China). Landon Donovan, he of the incredible goal scoring and equally incredible receding hairline, scored a hockey goal (come in on the goalie, fake, then put it over his left shoulder) to make it 2-1. Less than 20 minutes later, Michael Bradley, whose only claim to fame at this point is that he's the US coach's son (I think this is all anyone knows about him), scored off a nice pass from Jozy Altidore to tie it up at 2.
Now at this point, the US is DOMINATING. Slovenia is not back on its heels; it's wondering if anyone got the license plate of that H3 with the TruckNutz that just reminded them that "superpower" doesn't only refer to our nuclear arsenal. Altidore is pulled down outside the box, and the US receives a free kick.
Slovenia decides to "defend" this free kick. By this, I mean that Altidore becomes an unwitting participant in some sort of medieval hand-fasting ceremony, Bradley is being grabbed in a way that would make most of us curl up into the fetal position and announce that we need an adult, and the rest of the US attack force is being impeded in ways that would be penalized in both American football and hockey. Somehow, out of all this chaos, Maurice Edu swoops in and cleanly deposits the ball into the back of the net. 3-2 US! One of the greatest comebacks of all time. Then the ref blows the whistle, nullifying the goal.
The mystifying part of all this is that there doesn't appear to be a foul on the US, everyone is onside, and the ref makes no indication of why he made the call that he did. Needless to say, this took all of the wind out of the US, and we didn't get close again in what ended in a 2-2 draw.
Now I understand that the ref is part of the game, and that human error plays a part in sports. However, this whole thing could have easily been avoided if they had just chosen a referee with some sort of experience. I mean, Tamsen Burke (who ran the IM department at Chicago; you could have trained a monkey to do her job, do it better, and look better while doing it) had the whole thing figured out: if your team makes the playoffs, you provide a ref; if you don't make it, no ref necessary. This is why the Dominican Republic doesn't send a judge to the figure skating in the Winter Olympics; it's not that they can't do it, but someone decided to leave the job up to countries more familiar with the sport. I'm sure the good people who run the soccer federation of Mali would have been happy not to pay for the referee's travel, and we all would have been better for it.
May all your hits be crits (and not be disallowed),
B
In the first half, Slovenia had surprised the US, who had somehow forgotten that being favored in a game does not mean that you are exempt from playing defense and trying to control the ball. Slovenia scored twice, no thanks to some lousy efforts by the US defense and midfield. Equally bad was the fact that we were unable to make any real headway against their defense, and I was legitimately worried going into the second half.
Fortunately, in the second half, the US remembered what they are really good at: coming back from deficits that are their own fault (let's hope we're this good when it comes to dealing with China). Landon Donovan, he of the incredible goal scoring and equally incredible receding hairline, scored a hockey goal (come in on the goalie, fake, then put it over his left shoulder) to make it 2-1. Less than 20 minutes later, Michael Bradley, whose only claim to fame at this point is that he's the US coach's son (I think this is all anyone knows about him), scored off a nice pass from Jozy Altidore to tie it up at 2.
Now at this point, the US is DOMINATING. Slovenia is not back on its heels; it's wondering if anyone got the license plate of that H3 with the TruckNutz that just reminded them that "superpower" doesn't only refer to our nuclear arsenal. Altidore is pulled down outside the box, and the US receives a free kick.
Slovenia decides to "defend" this free kick. By this, I mean that Altidore becomes an unwitting participant in some sort of medieval hand-fasting ceremony, Bradley is being grabbed in a way that would make most of us curl up into the fetal position and announce that we need an adult, and the rest of the US attack force is being impeded in ways that would be penalized in both American football and hockey. Somehow, out of all this chaos, Maurice Edu swoops in and cleanly deposits the ball into the back of the net. 3-2 US! One of the greatest comebacks of all time. Then the ref blows the whistle, nullifying the goal.
The mystifying part of all this is that there doesn't appear to be a foul on the US, everyone is onside, and the ref makes no indication of why he made the call that he did. Needless to say, this took all of the wind out of the US, and we didn't get close again in what ended in a 2-2 draw.
Now I understand that the ref is part of the game, and that human error plays a part in sports. However, this whole thing could have easily been avoided if they had just chosen a referee with some sort of experience. I mean, Tamsen Burke (who ran the IM department at Chicago; you could have trained a monkey to do her job, do it better, and look better while doing it) had the whole thing figured out: if your team makes the playoffs, you provide a ref; if you don't make it, no ref necessary. This is why the Dominican Republic doesn't send a judge to the figure skating in the Winter Olympics; it's not that they can't do it, but someone decided to leave the job up to countries more familiar with the sport. I'm sure the good people who run the soccer federation of Mali would have been happy not to pay for the referee's travel, and we all would have been better for it.
May all your hits be crits (and not be disallowed),
B
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
The Degrading Parade
So, as part of my RA duties this summer, I'm reading cases from the European Court of Human Rights to figure out their definition of torture. While all the really obvious stuff has been found torture (rape, beating, etc...), there are some people who have decided that the relevant provision of the Convention for the Protection of Human Rights and Fundamental Freedoms is a legal blank check.
Which brings me to Efstratiou v. Greece. The petitioner, a young Jehovah's Witness (yea, them again. These people pop up in every religion-related lawsuit ever) refused to march in a parade with her school to celebrate the Greeks going to war against Fascist Italy. As punishment for her refusal, the school board suspended her for two days.
Now, I believe there is a lawsuit in here somewhere, and one that would likely win in this country. Compelled speech is a no-no, which is why we don't force students to say the Pledge of Allegiance (or at least we don't suspend them for refusing). However, the Efstratious decided to argue that this was a violation of Article 3 of the Convention, which states:
"No one shall be subjected to torture or to inhuman or degrading treatment or punishment."
Yikes. Stripes. REALLY??? Suspension from school is torture or inhuman and degrading? The social stigma and permanent record status aside, not going to school for a day is hardly the worst thing that could happen. While the reasoning of the school was wrong (and was found to be a violation of the student's rights on other grounds), and while I grant that you're allowed to plead however you'd like, there needed to be someone in that lawyer's office to say (in the words of the AEPi Risk Management speech) "What the Fuck are you Thinking?"
May all your hits be crits,
B
Which brings me to Efstratiou v. Greece. The petitioner, a young Jehovah's Witness (yea, them again. These people pop up in every religion-related lawsuit ever) refused to march in a parade with her school to celebrate the Greeks going to war against Fascist Italy. As punishment for her refusal, the school board suspended her for two days.
Now, I believe there is a lawsuit in here somewhere, and one that would likely win in this country. Compelled speech is a no-no, which is why we don't force students to say the Pledge of Allegiance (or at least we don't suspend them for refusing). However, the Efstratious decided to argue that this was a violation of Article 3 of the Convention, which states:
"No one shall be subjected to torture or to inhuman or degrading treatment or punishment."
Yikes. Stripes. REALLY??? Suspension from school is torture or inhuman and degrading? The social stigma and permanent record status aside, not going to school for a day is hardly the worst thing that could happen. While the reasoning of the school was wrong (and was found to be a violation of the student's rights on other grounds), and while I grant that you're allowed to plead however you'd like, there needed to be someone in that lawyer's office to say (in the words of the AEPi Risk Management speech) "What the Fuck are you Thinking?"
May all your hits be crits,
B
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Someone Told Me: "It's All Happening At The Zoo..."
Wow, it's really been forever, hasn't it? 2L kinda ate my life and forced me to spend my waking hours doing things other than blogging. This was a problematic development to say the least, as I kinda liked having a place to muse to to the wider world. I'm gonna try to keep this updated more often, and I've got two posts in the works about the major events of 2010; these will be out in the next few days, along with a larger post about 2L. I guess that, for now at least, I'll start with the most recent occurence:
With the one day of full freedom I had, I followed Amanda and Jessica (Amanda's roommate) to the National Zoo. I don't know how in hell I've been here for nearly two years without going to the zoo. I love the zoo, and I went to the Lincoln Park Zoo in Chicago all the time when I lived there. I guess law school got in the way.
The National Zoo is relatively impressive, for not being Lincoln Park or San Diego. They have pretty much what you'd expect to see at the zoo: Large Cats, Elephants, Monkeys of various sorts, etc... However, the two things that stood out the most had nothing to do with these animals, but with my two favorite animals at the zoo: Otters and Turtles.
Otters: I love otters; they might be my favorite zoo animal. I was definitely spoiled by the one in Chicago: he would swim right up to the glass, and follow you when you walked back and forth, which is surprisingly fun. The National Zoo has a smaller breed of otters, and they didn't look like they were doing much. There was a small half-log, about 18"x9", and I could only see one otter head and one otter tail poking out. I assumed that there was only one otter in there, which isn't nearly enough for such a large habitat. Soon, the tail at the end turned into a head, which was good, as two otters are always better than one. When the two wriggled out from under the log, they were soon joined by a third. These three otters walked over to the other end of the habitat, laid on rocks, and completely refused to go in the water. I swear they were doing this on purpose; the habitat is laid out for the specific purpose of allowing people to see the otters swim underwater, and I think that they'd had about enough of living up to the expectations of others. This would have been awesome enough on its own, but upon looking back to the log, I noticed three entirely new otters wriggling out, who then proceeded to do the same routine as their ottery predecessors. This log was like an otter clown car; I actually went back at the end just to make sure there were no other otters in there. Fantastic stuff.
Turtles: The turtles were at the very end of our trip, having accidentally passed them the first time. The National Zoo has a thing for turtles; they own turtles of almost every shape, size, and color imaginable. The final turtles we saw had two notable characteristics: 1) they were very large, and 2) they were very obviously having Turtle Sex. Turtle Sex is a very awkward-looking thing; it's kinda like one turtle is trying to climb the other and continually failing. So, having moved on from the Turtle Sex, I was looking at the other, less amorous turtles, when a little girl walked up to the den of iniquity and said "Awwww! It's so cute! That turtle is trying to climb the other one!" Now, its not my place to tell small children about the birds and the bees, especially if their mother is in no mood to do so, so I just sat there and tried to crack up as quietly as possible. Turtles rock.
Again, apologies for taking so long to post. More stuff upcoming.
May all your hits be crits,
B
With the one day of full freedom I had, I followed Amanda and Jessica (Amanda's roommate) to the National Zoo. I don't know how in hell I've been here for nearly two years without going to the zoo. I love the zoo, and I went to the Lincoln Park Zoo in Chicago all the time when I lived there. I guess law school got in the way.
The National Zoo is relatively impressive, for not being Lincoln Park or San Diego. They have pretty much what you'd expect to see at the zoo: Large Cats, Elephants, Monkeys of various sorts, etc... However, the two things that stood out the most had nothing to do with these animals, but with my two favorite animals at the zoo: Otters and Turtles.
Otters: I love otters; they might be my favorite zoo animal. I was definitely spoiled by the one in Chicago: he would swim right up to the glass, and follow you when you walked back and forth, which is surprisingly fun. The National Zoo has a smaller breed of otters, and they didn't look like they were doing much. There was a small half-log, about 18"x9", and I could only see one otter head and one otter tail poking out. I assumed that there was only one otter in there, which isn't nearly enough for such a large habitat. Soon, the tail at the end turned into a head, which was good, as two otters are always better than one. When the two wriggled out from under the log, they were soon joined by a third. These three otters walked over to the other end of the habitat, laid on rocks, and completely refused to go in the water. I swear they were doing this on purpose; the habitat is laid out for the specific purpose of allowing people to see the otters swim underwater, and I think that they'd had about enough of living up to the expectations of others. This would have been awesome enough on its own, but upon looking back to the log, I noticed three entirely new otters wriggling out, who then proceeded to do the same routine as their ottery predecessors. This log was like an otter clown car; I actually went back at the end just to make sure there were no other otters in there. Fantastic stuff.
Turtles: The turtles were at the very end of our trip, having accidentally passed them the first time. The National Zoo has a thing for turtles; they own turtles of almost every shape, size, and color imaginable. The final turtles we saw had two notable characteristics: 1) they were very large, and 2) they were very obviously having Turtle Sex. Turtle Sex is a very awkward-looking thing; it's kinda like one turtle is trying to climb the other and continually failing. So, having moved on from the Turtle Sex, I was looking at the other, less amorous turtles, when a little girl walked up to the den of iniquity and said "Awwww! It's so cute! That turtle is trying to climb the other one!" Now, its not my place to tell small children about the birds and the bees, especially if their mother is in no mood to do so, so I just sat there and tried to crack up as quietly as possible. Turtles rock.
Again, apologies for taking so long to post. More stuff upcoming.
May all your hits be crits,
B
Monday, November 2, 2009
The Halloween Parade
I realize it has been a while since I posted, but as will tend to be the case from now on, I'm going to post only when things are too good to let go.
So, Saturday night rolled around, and Marie and I appeared to be pretty content not to do much. We'd had a bunch of plans at different points, but all of them had either not formed or had fallen through. Worse yet, after looking through a bunch of thrift stores for M*A*S*H* related costumes, we had come up empty, and didn't really have anything to wear. At about 8:00pm, we got a call from Amy, who was in Marie's grad program, saying that, if we wanted to, we could get dressed and go to TOWN with a whole group of people. This set off 40 minutes of Marie and I frantically looking for something to wear. I very quickly found my freshman year soccer jersey, and was set to go. Marie, after looking around for a while, took my drunken advice from the previous night (though the costume was originally meant for me) and went as a sexy cow.
We met up with the rest of the group, and after some getting ready and a few beers, we walked out into a drizzle. Our parade included: A drag Dorothy (with S&M Toto), a Tin Man (complete with paint), a Scarecrow, two Swine Flu pigs (H1 and N1), a chef, another soccer player (with ref), an Amish woman, a punk, Jackie O'Lantern (if JFK had married a pumpkin...), with Marie and I bringing up the rear. We had to walk about half a mile down U Street in order to get to the club (U Street is the bar district). Needless to say, we were VERY popular, with people shout-outing/catcalling nearly all of us at one point or another.
While the club was fun and crazy (I still believe our Dorothy got screwed in the costume contest), the other truly-noteworthy moment came after we got back home. Marie hadn't eaten, so we stopped in for some Chinese near our apartment. Right after we came in, Batman and a bee entered and took the table across from us. While this wouldn't normally be noteworthy, the look on the faces of the staff (especially when Batman didn't take his mask fully off, even through dinner) was priceless. Halloween, where costumed eating happens...
May all your hits be crits,
B
So, Saturday night rolled around, and Marie and I appeared to be pretty content not to do much. We'd had a bunch of plans at different points, but all of them had either not formed or had fallen through. Worse yet, after looking through a bunch of thrift stores for M*A*S*H* related costumes, we had come up empty, and didn't really have anything to wear. At about 8:00pm, we got a call from Amy, who was in Marie's grad program, saying that, if we wanted to, we could get dressed and go to TOWN with a whole group of people. This set off 40 minutes of Marie and I frantically looking for something to wear. I very quickly found my freshman year soccer jersey, and was set to go. Marie, after looking around for a while, took my drunken advice from the previous night (though the costume was originally meant for me) and went as a sexy cow.
We met up with the rest of the group, and after some getting ready and a few beers, we walked out into a drizzle. Our parade included: A drag Dorothy (with S&M Toto), a Tin Man (complete with paint), a Scarecrow, two Swine Flu pigs (H1 and N1), a chef, another soccer player (with ref), an Amish woman, a punk, Jackie O'Lantern (if JFK had married a pumpkin...), with Marie and I bringing up the rear. We had to walk about half a mile down U Street in order to get to the club (U Street is the bar district). Needless to say, we were VERY popular, with people shout-outing/catcalling nearly all of us at one point or another.
While the club was fun and crazy (I still believe our Dorothy got screwed in the costume contest), the other truly-noteworthy moment came after we got back home. Marie hadn't eaten, so we stopped in for some Chinese near our apartment. Right after we came in, Batman and a bee entered and took the table across from us. While this wouldn't normally be noteworthy, the look on the faces of the staff (especially when Batman didn't take his mask fully off, even through dinner) was priceless. Halloween, where costumed eating happens...
May all your hits be crits,
B
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Waxed
As so often happens, I plan to blog about things, but then something comes up that is way more worth blogging about, and i forget to blog about the original thing. This is what it about to happen, and since i'm discussing it instead of Perry's visit and the Green Day concert, it must be something worth noting. And it is...
So I'm a hairy motherfucker. This is not my terminology, but that used to describe me the summer before my senior year of high school. Now having a hairy chest is apparently not so bad, but the back...not so much. Marie has complained about this in the past, and finally I told her that if she booked the appointment, that I'd get it done. I didn't believe she'd actually go through with it, but lo and behold, she got her act together enough to set today as the date.
So I go into the salon, and the first thing they ask is "Are you here to be serviced?" My first, mental response was, "Yep, I'm here to lay some pipe. Bow Chicka Bow Wow..." Fortunately, I occasionally keep things to myself. So after filling out a form or two, I was escorted to the back by Marie, and a woman with a pleasant Jamaican accent. This would turn out to be essential; you REALLY don't want a woman with a German accent ripping hair out of you, but a Jamaican accent is somehow more soothing.
I laid down on the table, and the ripping commenced. As it turned out, it wasn't so bad. Kinda like a backrub for masochists. Plus, when they were done, I got strips of cloth dipped in tea placed on my back, so I smelled funny on top of everything else. In the next 90 minutes, I learned a lot of things:
1. I jump when hot wax is poured on my back. This is a fact of life. It's not like it was too hot, but the hot wax barrier is one that I heretofore had yet to broach. It's a weird sensation, and doesn't get any less weird after having it done multiple times in a short timespan.
2. There are more and less sensative parts of my back. You can yank the hair out of my lower back with abandon, and it doesn't really matter. The neck, on the other hand, is REALLY REALLY unpleasant to have abused multiple times in a row.
3. My back is really really pale without any hair on it. I don't normally go outside to tan, but I think I'm going to have to. It's pretty ridiculous looking.
4. Anyone who has this done anywhere near their private parts is batshit insane.
They say this needs to be done every 3 weeks. This is NOT happening, but I probably could be talked into doing it again. Worse things have happened.
May all your hits be crits,
B
So I'm a hairy motherfucker. This is not my terminology, but that used to describe me the summer before my senior year of high school. Now having a hairy chest is apparently not so bad, but the back...not so much. Marie has complained about this in the past, and finally I told her that if she booked the appointment, that I'd get it done. I didn't believe she'd actually go through with it, but lo and behold, she got her act together enough to set today as the date.
So I go into the salon, and the first thing they ask is "Are you here to be serviced?" My first, mental response was, "Yep, I'm here to lay some pipe. Bow Chicka Bow Wow..." Fortunately, I occasionally keep things to myself. So after filling out a form or two, I was escorted to the back by Marie, and a woman with a pleasant Jamaican accent. This would turn out to be essential; you REALLY don't want a woman with a German accent ripping hair out of you, but a Jamaican accent is somehow more soothing.
I laid down on the table, and the ripping commenced. As it turned out, it wasn't so bad. Kinda like a backrub for masochists. Plus, when they were done, I got strips of cloth dipped in tea placed on my back, so I smelled funny on top of everything else. In the next 90 minutes, I learned a lot of things:
1. I jump when hot wax is poured on my back. This is a fact of life. It's not like it was too hot, but the hot wax barrier is one that I heretofore had yet to broach. It's a weird sensation, and doesn't get any less weird after having it done multiple times in a short timespan.
2. There are more and less sensative parts of my back. You can yank the hair out of my lower back with abandon, and it doesn't really matter. The neck, on the other hand, is REALLY REALLY unpleasant to have abused multiple times in a row.
3. My back is really really pale without any hair on it. I don't normally go outside to tan, but I think I'm going to have to. It's pretty ridiculous looking.
4. Anyone who has this done anywhere near their private parts is batshit insane.
They say this needs to be done every 3 weeks. This is NOT happening, but I probably could be talked into doing it again. Worse things have happened.
May all your hits be crits,
B
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Wow, WoW
So the big news of my morning was that Sam Raimi just signed on to direct the World of Warcraft movie. Pair him up with the producer from Dark Knight, and this seems like one hell of a movie. I mean, this could be the first decent video game adaptation since the first Mortal Kombat. However, the problem with this movie is that they're inevitably going to do it from the point of view of the Alliance. Let's see: We have an epic quest being taken on by a human, an elf, a dwarf, various other little people. I think I've seen this movie before, but I can't remember where...
Now, imagine, if you will, if they made the movie from the point of view of the Horde. You still have an elf, but your other heroes are a troll, an orc, a zombie, and a 7 foot tall cow-person. While the possibilities of romance are slim (and would be kinda ooky even if they happened), this would be such a different and interesting movie that it would be worth watching. But oh well, maybe a sequel?
May all your hits be crits,
B
Now, imagine, if you will, if they made the movie from the point of view of the Horde. You still have an elf, but your other heroes are a troll, an orc, a zombie, and a 7 foot tall cow-person. While the possibilities of romance are slim (and would be kinda ooky even if they happened), this would be such a different and interesting movie that it would be worth watching. But oh well, maybe a sequel?
May all your hits be crits,
B
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