Best day of my life.

By on

Say it out loud. It sounds good to say.

Carboard sword.
<a href=http://www.salon.com/news/wire/2005/01/25/fcc/index.html>FCC rejects 36 indecency complaints over "Friends, " "The Simpsons."</a>

WTF,
mate? I'm glad the FCC realized how silly this is, but still. It's silly. It's silly, and it makes me mad.

Here's a quote:
"In what community in America are graphic terms for genitalia decent?" said Lara Mahaney, a spokeswoman for the council.

What's the difference between graphic and medical? One of the complaints involves an episode of "Friends" where a scene in a medical office where the conversation is about fertility options. I found the script, and here's the offensive part:

<em>Chandler: (To the nurse at the nurses' station) My specimen is in the room and I just want to thank whoever knocked on the door while I was in there. Really helped speed the process along! (walks towards the common area and sees Janice is still there) Janice! You're not… gone?

Janice: Oh! Sid is still in his room. I don't allow porn at home so this is like a vacation for him. So did you do it? Did you make your deposit?

Chandler: Yeah! yeah… The hard part is over!

Janice: That's not the hard part honey! The hard part is what comes next, I mean aren't you worried about the results?

Chandler: I haven't… I haven't even thought about the results yet… I just assumed that everything was gonna be ok.

Janice: Oh! Well, you know what? It probably is.

Chandler: (Slightly panicky) Yeah, but what if it's not? What if there is a reason why we can't have a baby?

Janice: Oh, Chandler, look. You and Monica are meant to have children. I am sure it's gonna be just fine.

Chandler: (smiling again) oh, oh, yeah, ok, thanks. I can't believe I didn't even think of that. I guess I was just so worried about having to… come here and do… 'that'…

Janice: What, you can do it in the parking lot of a Taco Bell, but you can't do it at a doctor's office?

Chandler: (stares at her intently, then yells) It was a "Wendy's!! "</em>

A complaint over "The Simpsons," which airs on Fox, included a scene from a November 2003 episode in which students carried picket signs with the phrases "What would Jesus glue?" and "Don't cut off my pianissimo."

I don't even know what that's referring to. I must have missed the episode. In any case, the whole thing is hilariously out of control.

It's great that in our Republican-dominated government, we're adding more and more control, (which, I believe, is not the Republican credo) and completely ignoring the fact that this really wouldn't be a problem if parents monitored their kids' TV consumption, and maybe didn't let them watch TV all day. What if we smashed half the TVs in the US? I think there would still be plenty left.
Reading "Eats,
Shoots, and Leaves" has done me in. Even though I think the author mentioned that there was a difference, I absorbed the British way to end sentences that involve a period and a quote.

In American, it should "always be like this."
In British, it's 'like this'.

Wow, huh. I mean, I've been fixing people's work to conform to British puntuation rules. How embarassing.
Last night I watched Garden State. Jason and I both enjoyed it thoroughly. The Green Test of a Good Movie is whether or not you think about the movie the next day.

I'm still thinking about Garden State. I wonder if the absence of brain drugs accounted for the main character's ability to fall in love. I wonder how much of his attraction is due to the change in his temperament. I wonder how old Natalie Portman's character is supposed to be. I wonder if the couple will stay in New Jersey,
giving the main character an opportunity to create a better relationship with his father.

The intrigue of the movie is that we're not given all of the information we need to wrap everything up. If it did,
it would be contrived. If there was less information,
it would be one of those "oops, you're going to have to imagine for yourself how it all works out" endings that piss me off because I can only think of the inevitable contrived ending anyway.

Soundtrack-wise, Iron and Wine's version of Such Great Heights packed great impact. I've been used to hearing Postal Service's version of the song for so long that to hear it slow and acoustic aroused great emotion. I don't know if I can listen to the Postal Service version again without feeling just a tad jumpy.

Last night I had a dream that I was fishing with Anton, Alena and Uncle Marlon. The river was engorged with rainwater, but not flowing deadly fast. We were wading in the river as we fished, and Marlon was laying on a tree trunk that leaned out over the deeper side of the river. Lena had cast badly, and I was demonstrating how to properly cast. I flicked my hook out into the river, then turned to Lena to explain my technique. As I finished, I realized that I had aimed my cast into the deep pool on the other side of the river. I also realized that during my test cast, I had caught something. I couldn't pull my line back, so I waded out further, and ended up swimming out to Marlon's perch with my rod and reel held above the water with one hand. I could see an arm-sized catfish come to the surface and dive back down. Marlon looked exasperated that I couldn't net the fish by myself. I climbed up onto an adjacent branch over the water, and Marlon grabbed my line to haul the fish in. He did so successfully, and slapped the catfish up on the limb I was on. It was huge – not Uncle Jeff sized, but definitely as big as my arm, and with a head the width of my hand. Marlon stuck a knife into the base of the catfish's head to sever the spinal cord, and handed the knife to me, explaining that I had to field strip it right there on the bark. I was having trouble getting the skin off, and I was trying to pick every bit of skin off instead of grabbing the majority of it with some pliers and yanking.

Then I woke up. The dream wasn't unpleasant – Marlon was acting like a gruff uncle, which he is, and I was supremely happy that I had caught such a huge fish.

I think I need spring, and a river to fish in. Maybe this is the year that I try fishing in Lake Michigan.
OK,
not in my life,
but my best day at Abbott yet. This is not due to high praise for something I accomplished professionally, nor because it's pizza day. Today, from an open doorway down the hall, I heard the magic words.

"Showgirls".

Two of my co-workers were discussing the merits of this movie. I added that I, too, was a fan of Showgirls. From his chair, one co-worker reached up into a cabinent and pulled out a copy of the script. My heart sang with joy.

That moment replayed in my head at least a dozen times before lunch. How often do you find someone who is willing to talk to you about the famous "you don't have your period" – "yes I do. check" – "oh I guess you do" dialogue. Especially at 8:45 in the morning.

I did my famous move from Showgirls, and had the crowd rolling on the floor.

Just last week we were discussing how there isn't any sexual tension in corporate public affairs. I mean, affairs is in the title, yet everyone is happily married or happily engaged or happily in a relationship, or unhappily single. All those single are women. None of them are gay.

So there's been a quandry of how to make work more interesting. I believe the problem has solved itself for the time being.