June 14, 2013

Good day to all of yous!

What is there to talk about?

– I already talked about Man of Steel.

I want to see it. Most of you want to see it. I’m looking forward to it.

I have been thinking a lot about comic books and their movies and why they don’t translate well. Usually, it is because of a bad director and having to tell the origin story all over again. While at the same time, I think a lot of the fault lies within the actual comic book itself as if creating a cool superhero directly means that the comic book is well-written or that the origin story makes sense. I don’t think either the coolness/badassness of a particular hero has anything to do with how good that actual writing is of said character. It’s like a fancy sports car that looks amazing, but all-in-all isn’t really a good car. It just looks expensive and drives fast I’m sure, but they’re not a logically sound piece of machinery.

It also seems like most comicbooks and their movies only have two real plots: 1. origin story or 2. the character losing their powers willingly or unwillingly and needing to gain them back. And in a way #2 is like a derivative of #1. And they’re both pretty played to death.

– I also want to This is the End.

It looks like it is legitimately funny, which is good because laughter is the best medicine when you’re talking about an illness that doesn’t require actual medicine. And then laughter is just kind of perverse because you really need to get that person some actual help instead of telling dick jokes.

– The UFC has a pay-per-view this weekend, which I’m looking forward to in the same way I look forward to all their pay-per-views.

– Coco got into bed with Danielle and I for the first time this morning.

Coco has this NASTY habit of waking up EARLY. And, it appears that most of the reason why she’s getting up at like 6am is because she wants attention. Which is an AWWWWW and also an UGH when you’re trying to sleep.

Yesterday, she got up and tried to get up on the bed, but didn’t make it. And we hypothesized that she really just wants to get in bed and lie in bed with us. So, this morning, we did just that.

She did pretty much go back to sleep. To paint the scene, she forced herself into being my little spoon with me being the big spoon. So, her back to me, slammed up against me, and facing Danielle. She stayed like that for the better part of an hour until Danielle’s alarm went off.

Also, this means it is the first weekend with Coco.

Today, Coco is meeting Danielle’s mom. And on Sunday, she’s going to meet my dad, my sister, her boyfriend, Danielle’s mom again, and see my mom again who was the one who adopted Coco to us in the first place. It will probably be an overwhelming Sunday for Coco.


I’ve been watching it. I watched a couple episodes then DVRed the rest and now I’m going through the DVR. It’s a good show.

It’s kind of egotistical. It certainly presupposes the idea that we the viewers and they the journalists or I guess simply HBO subscribers are the outsiders looking into the CRAY-ZEE world of everyone else and their weird unique problems.

I really hate the little Woody Allen look-a-like reporter. The more I see him, the more I don’t like him. Part of the reason I don’t like him is definitely because in the animal kingdom he would definitely be my prey. He is probably about 5 feet tall and he weighs about 120 pounds. I could absolutely pick him up over my head and drop him on my knee like I’m Bane and I’m breaking this little guy’s back in half. He is unsettlingly small. Too small. I don’t like him being sent out of this country representing America. Is that too far? You know the age old idea of men vs. women – he would lose to a woman in every physical contest. I’m not talking about him competing against a world champion _____ who happens to be a woman. He would lose a tug-of-war competition with every known woman on this planet Earth. Any woman. All woman. One-by-one would defeat him. I’m talking like little half-sized great grandma’s with no teeth hidden in the mountains of Peru would outright physically outmatch this guy and it just weirds me out that he is who we are sending around the world. He looks like the weakest man in existence. He looks like Woody Allen if Woody Allen was deprived of all the testosterone he must have needed to have to write all these movies where he’s fucking super hot actresses and owned it for about 3 decades. Anyway…

He’s not THAT bad, but I get a douche chill every time I see him.

It’s probably part self-hating Jew kind of stuff. I’m sure it’s what learned black professors think when they look at Gucci Mane. They’re like, “Oh, for fuck’s sake! An ice cream tattoo on your face?! You’re ruining this for the rest of us!” Anyway…

The other two reporters they seem to use are the two bearded guys with arm tattoos. The one is the founder of Vice and he sounds American and slightly British and looks like a punky Orson Welles. The other looks like he’s the punky Orson Welles’ slimmer younger brother who played high school sports.

The show is interesting, informative, and depressing.

NBA and NHL are finishing up their respective seasons soon enough. Both are in their final series of games to determine their season champion.

I’m honestly not that interested in the NHL and I’m thoroughly interested in the NBA. I really only mention this because once this is over… there’s kind of a DEAD ZONE of sports until the NFL starts back up in August (pre-season).

There’s baseball, but baseball kind of blows goats.

There’s soccer, right? Isn’t there always soccer going on somewhere? But whatevs… I really only get excited about the BIG tournaments and that’s like right before they start.

There’s always fighting, which makes me happy.

What else?

Michael J. Fox

Danielle and I and our friend Mary did see Michael J. Fox, his wife, and his doppelganger son last Friday.

We went to eat at this hip Korean tapas place called Danji. The place is tiny. The front half is a bar and a couple of high tables that sit communal style. Then there is a partition and beyond the partition are 6 tables – 3 to the left, 3 to the right.

As I walked beyond the partition with Danielle and Mary in front of me because I’m a gent and let the ladies go first, I cleared the partition and saw that there was a table of 3 sitting right next to the partition. Two males and a female. One of the male’s had his back to me, so I couldn’t see his face to begin with. But I could see the faces of the other male and the lone female. Naturally, my explosive amount of heterosexuality led my eyes to the woman first… and also because the male was against the partition, so you naturally saw her before him.

And the woman was Tracy Pollan aka Michael J. Fox’s wife.


That sounds obvious, but if you’ve seen celebrities out in public or if you look at all those articles about celebrities out in public on the internet you’ll know that they don’t always look the way they look on TV or in a magazine. Sometimes, they look downright different. They’re like a puzzle you have to solve. Anyway… SHE LOOKED EXACTLY LIKE HERSELF.

I then drifted my eyes over to the male next to her fully expecting to see motherfucking TEEN WOLF himself and I was kind of puzzled. It looked like Michael J. Fox pretty much, but if Tracy wasn’t there then I wouldn’t have necessarily recognized him as Michael J. Fox. He looked a little older than I was expecting and less “vibrant”. We’re used to seeing this guy in movies and on TV delivering zingers, so him just sitting quietly eating Korean food was a tad underwhelming. Either way, it was 100% Mrs. Michael J. Fox and he looked more and more like Michael the more and more I looked at him out of the corner of my eye while I was pretending not to look at him.

The other guy, I got a glimpse of when I sat down at it looked 1,000,000% like their son who looks like a young Michael J. Fox. And remember that bullshit about them not wanting him to date Taylor Swift? Seriously, I’m sure she’s a handful, but you’d be pretty lucky to get into that if you know… I mean have sex with Taylor Swift on the reg.

Two more things about Michael J. Fox…

1. I didn’t say anything to him. I rarely say anything to celebrities if I by chance run into one. It’s not like I’m going to get the chance to really sit down and talk to him. At most, it’s like I’m a homeless person to them and they’re giving me a hi back to show that they recognize my existence instead of just walking over me and without a second thought. So… I didn’t ask Michael J. Fox WHY BASKETBALL in “Teen Wolf” or WHAT WAS THAT GAME THEY WERE PLAYING AT THE 15 KEG HIGH SCHOOL PARTY? If I was going to talk about stuff with Michael J. Fox, most it would be about “Teen Wolf”. So many questions?!

2. The dude didn’t shake much. I don’t know how much “shaking” I was expecting, but for awhile there all people talked about was his Parkinson’s. I’m guessing he is on a better medical path towards helping with that affliction and from what I could see… it’s working. DUDE WAS EATING AT A KOREAN TAPAS PLACE! Do you know what that means? CHOP STICKS! Either way, he wasn’t shaking like a car on bad gas like many people would expect. Those “people” well maybe me or people with pessimistic expectations. I was more hoping that I wouldn’t see him shaking because that would be depressing because Parkinson’s is shitty. I’m glad he didn’t appear to be shaky or anything. Good for him and, hopefully, for other people who have Parkinson’s.






  1. PWG said

    Have such a good birthday weekend. It’s Colorado in the summer over here, so I’ll be spending mine trying not to catch on fire.

    Last Saturday I was standing on a tourist catwalk outside some geothermal springs in Yellowstone, contemplating touching the water to see if it was really that hot. Then all my years of staying-alive-and-not-3rd-degree-burned training kicked in, plus the memory of the giant billboard I’d walked past 3 minutes ago with the black and white line drawing of a Boy Scout who jumped into a hot spring and burned to death in the 1970’s. His name was Timmy, and his death was the impetus for the catwalks in the first place. Rest in peace, Timmy, you probably saved my life, little dude.

    The weekend before that: on vacation, my 10-year old son and I found a baby robin fledgling on the ground, and we saw a ranch dog walking toward us. I grabbed the dog by the collar and we looked around for some safe place to move the bird. I decided a low, fluffy pine bough would work, and it was the only green nature-y place in sight that the dog couldn’t get to. I had the PWG-let hold the dog, and I leaned down to scoop up the bird. I was going for “minimal touching of the live baby” since his mama was chirping and hopping frantically 5 feet away. So I gently slid my hand underneath him, and he took that as a signal to try and learn to fly. He actually did fly, about 18″ up and over, directly into the dog’s mouth. She promptly ate him, and was SO HAPPY with us for playing that awesome game with her. Seriously, that dog did not leave our sides for the rest of the week.

    The mama Robin lost her MIND and made the saddest, most awful CHIRP!CHIRP!CHIRP! cries. So that was a nice bonding moment, my son and I staring at each other in horror.

    I hope you get something for your birthday that makes you as happy as an Irish Setter with a live baby robin snack.

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