Don't deflate the Blue Bird of Paradise!

I don't know if it's my mood, or just something I ate, but I don't think I've laughed so hard since 2006 ...



From Discovery Channel's Planet Earth series.

Check out the female's reaction. She's all "What the ...? Get out of my face? No, no seriously, I am NOT into you ..." It's a Night at the Roxbury, birdy-style.

Ooo! Ooo! My first "hate" comment!

This just in: a comment on my recent post on the news coverage of the case of the poisoned pet food from one who boldly declares him/herself "Anonymous":

"your just as bad making fun of the situation. your a journalist?? you should think about acting like one as your gonna gain credability for being an insensitive jerk!"

Oh, Anonymous, I would say I'm not so much a journalist as I just have a degree and some experience in print journalism. But either way, you've certainly beckoned the grammar Nazi in me with your comment. And oh, dear, yes, it's sad to learn that even people who write and like current events have a soft spot for cracking jokes at tragic situations. Goodness, looking back I think I do deserve a swift kick in the rear. What, had I simply made fun of something more menial - like, say, genocide in Darfur - then maybe you'd not be so upset.
The thing is, Anonymous, if you'd read the entry carefully, you might have noticed that I was not making fun of cats and puppies gulping down lethal doses of rat poison, but instead was highlighting the absurd news coverage given to it by Fox.
If it helps dampen the shock, I'll let you in on a little secret: I like animals very much ...


... but only the ones smart enough to not eat rat poison.

This can and should be played EVERY DAY.

You Don't Know Jack!, or YDKJ! for us aficionados, is a fantastic and hilarious computer trivia game that I used to play religiously after school circa 1997. Now it's online and free. Try it and be entertained. Be very entertained.

You Don't Know Jack.

Yes, I'm 9 years old, thank you very much.

It's been consuming me ...
Why don't restaurants require proof of age for people ordering from the children's menu? It seems unfair that I should be required to show the 18-year-old at TGI Friday's my ID to get a $7 drink that allegedly contains Kahlua, but the supposed "8-year-old" one booth down gets his grilled cheese with hardly the bat of an eyelash. Where, I ask, is the justice here?! Grilled cheese, macaroni and cheese, and other cheese-focused food items are not only adored by the "you must be this tall to ride" class. Plus, like prices matter to a 5-year-old. I've noticed some restaurants use clever language to politely say "KEEP OUT" to the rest of us. Language like "For our young friends under 12 years old." Okay, jerk! What have you got for your very poor friends struggling under the weight of student loans?? Where's our $3 Elmo's pizza?
Along similar lines, what about the 55+ menu? Do they check ID for that? I remember my dad getting excited about his 55th birthday because it would mean special discounts on all that "home food." But for those of us whose age lies somewhere between, they've got nothing. In the words of Stephanie, DJ, and little Michelle Tanner: HOW RUDE.
But really I want these restaurant laws to be strictly enforced so that I can successfully build a lucrative business making and selling fake 55+ and 10-and-under IDs to people like my dad who might want to jump the gun on the senior meals, or perhaps to recently-turned 13-year-olds who just can't kick the craving for that bonus toy included with kid's meal purchase. Mostly, though, I'd market to people like me, whose real age lies somewhere in the deep, dark ravine of discountlessness.
I could go into any restaurant right now and order the dinosaur-shaped chicken strips and kiddy sundae, but nary a waitress would hesitate to bark back that I'm clearly too old for the children's menu. But what could they say if I whipped out a professionally crafted, laminated Identification card that plainly showed my picture, and a February 10, 2001 birth date in bold? What could they do?!?

I done died 'n' gone to heaven

YES.

Atlas Shrugged the movie.
The debate on whether this film is a waste of time is heated, between Ayn Rand lovers and haters, delusional lovers and lovers, and haters and idiots (oxymoron, yes?).

I've taken the liberty of paraphrasing pages and pages of debate on the upcoming book-gone-movie:

Between lovers and haters --
Lovers: It's the best book ever. I can't wait to see it with my very own eyes!
Haters: Ayn Rand sucks. She's so arrogant. I LOVE stealing others' creativity and calling it my own - I banish ye to hell, those who would deprave me of that right!
Between delusional lovers and lovers --
DLs: It's the best book ever. FINALLY, everyone will understand and the world will be perfect.
Ls: It's the best book ever. So let's not screw it up by turning it into a movie, where the messages will undoubtedly become convoluted and skewed to fit Hollywood's idea of entertainment. Plus, who's gonna sit through a 3-hour speech?

Between haters and clueless IMDB addicts who feel the need to say something purely to maintain their status as ... IMDB addicts --
Haters: F*** Ayn Rand and her objective stance. I'll eat babies if I WANT TO!
IMDBAs: Angelina Jolie? I'm in! Wait, what's going on? Hey, does anyone want pizza?...

If words could express how excited I am to see this, I would ... use those words. If anything could explain how I would feel if they did a poor job with the screenplay, it would have to be a dead cat named Snuffles.

Not again!

I just dreamed I attended Britney Spears' funeral, which was held in Boulder because of a connection my boss has with her mother. I had to go because of work (women in technology, Britney Spears, women in technology, Britney Spears... yes, this is logical). Oprah was there, as well as Britney's two (??) little sisters -- Jay Lynn and Jay Elle, her mom, MY mom, the circus, and Billy Crudup.

This makes complete sense.

Too close. Far too close.

Oh no! I called my sister this morning to let her know about the pet food recall. Turns out the stuff my kitties eat is on the list! NOOOOOO!!!

What smart little guys, though -- she said they randomly stopped eating it a little over a week ago. Cats are awesome like that. Except Snuffles, who didn't get the memo ... and died.

I'm telling you - after my brush with death via Peter Pan, and now this ... I'm about to start my own sustainable farming community and say to heck with all this name brand poison.

Sad day for Snuffles

You may or may not have heard about the recent recall of over 40 brands of wet cat and dog food. It’s being recalled because it’s causing kidney failure, and in some cases, death of many well-loved pets around the nation.

That is horribly sad, but possibly not as sad as the quality of news coverage given to it on Fox news last night. First, they had an on-the-scene live report, which was actually just the parking lot of a PetSmart, a store which truly has earned negative points in the hundreds with me (see this post about the escaped Dalmatian). The reporter standing outside PetSmart gave us the lead, the info we needed to know concerning what type of food it is that’s causing kidney failure and death in cats and dogs, etc.

The last segment of the story was equally informative. Fox interviewed a vet who disclosed certain warning signs that your pet may be being poisoned. What I learned from him was this: If my pet is puking, collapsing, or acting sluggish, I should be concerned. Thanks. Because I was going to let it slide and see what happened.

Now here’s where I take a bit of issue with the way this story was delivered. And anything I have to say on the issue can be considered expert commentary. I have, after all, earned a degree in journalism, which immediately qualifies me to rant or rave in any way I please, right? Whatever. Did YOU endure hours of coma-inducing city council or school board meetings, only to report that yes, our kids are getting dumber, and no, it should not be allowable for land owners to blow up rabid prairie dogs with the bubonic plague? Didn’t think so. I’m so a journalist.

1)The pre-newscast commercials. You know how they always like to leave you hanging so you actually watch the newscast that will air later? That’s typical. It’s dumb, but typical. But ethical? That’s another box ‘o’ tissues. I don’t consider making me wait in fear to find out if my dog’s food is killing him to be edge-of-my-seat excitement. Don’t pull that, Fox. Tell me what I need to know, rather than spiritedly exclaiming “Do you think your cat or dog is safe? Just wait till you hear what might be killing it RIGHT NOW. Watch at 10 for details!” Well, crap!!!

2)The anecdote. In the case of the toxic pet food story, a reporter went to the home of a happy picket-fenced-in family living in the 'burbs of Denver. Two loving parents, two perfect children, and one adoring 17-year-old cat named something like Snuffles. Until now, that is – because Snuffles is DEAD.
The interview begins with the family together on the couch, and the mother is explaining how it’s been so tough, so very tough. So tough that her little girl has had a really hard time with it and doesn’t like to talk about it. Good call, then, putting her in front of a camera and rehashing in detail how kitty cat slowly and painfully died of kidney failure.
That poor little girl! Imagine this – a furry friend who has been around since before you were born, and suddenly dies because of a bad batch of food. It’s hard enough without Mom and Dad calling in camera crews and reporters to broadcast it across the state.
Do you think they called their friends and family? “Hey ya’ll! Be sure to watch Fox 31 tonight! We gon’ be on the TELLY-vision! Why? Oh, the cat died. No, don’t be sorry – this is our big break! Tomorrow I’m registering Cindy May for the local beauty pageant…”

But I’m being insensitive here. I mean, I certainly needed AND had a strong desire to hear about how Snuffles first started puking, then became weak and started wandering off into dark corners to die alone, and then, eventually, just didn’t wake up. Tragic, yes. But the real tragedy was watching poor Cindy May squirm on the couch, about ready to lose it as her mother told the reporter all the gory details. I swear, you could see the glint of hope-for-fame in her eyes. Ignore the bawling child, she’ll get over it…

R.I.P. Snuffles. R.I.P. And check your pet food.

Off to find my rainy ravine.

I don't know if it's the result of having one (five?) too many green beers last night, or the over $1000 I just payed in bills (not even including the rent). Or mayhaps I'm just hungry. But whatever it is, could it please disengage and let me not feel dark and angsty enough to club a baby seal?

This is how I feel right now: alcejawopiausdvlknvel an sldkveo !!!!! That, if you're finding it hard to decipher, is my forehead typing something along the lines of what this guy is saying:

Where is the rain when you need it?

Horrible movie

Currently: Dying my hair and watching "Leprechaun," a 1993 film playing on the Sci-Fi channel, starring Jennifer Aniston and Warwick Davis. It's a winner. Happy St. Patty's Day!

I went skiing yesterday at Winter Park, and despite the spf 50 sunscreen I wore on my face, I still burned a pretty something. On a side not, I must declare how proud I am for attempting and not dying on moguls. Twice. Once by force (thanks, Carrie), and once entirely by accident when I went off by myself.

Sharp, pointy TEETH!

Every year either on or around my birthday, patterns surrounding some type of object or topic emerge about once a month. Last year, it was a series of calamities regarding my dear Treasure (think crashes, vandalism, theft...). This year, as I am now realizing, the topic of fate's choice is rampant dogs running wild.

The pattern begins with an event occurring on or around my birthday. In this year's case, it happened the day before (Feb. 9th) when a dalmatian escaped the jaws of PetSmart and fled for its freedom right toward this girl. It is explained in full detail here.

The pattern continues about 1 month later (i.e. NOW) with a similar incident. That incident occurred on Saturday the 10th, and is slightly more graphic. Parents should remove all children from the room, or, if interested in preventing any child from begging for a puppy, a cute, sweet puppy, read this loudly and with passion ...

Andy and I decided to take Buzz for a walk. Buzz is a Schipperke, and aside from awkward snarly noises and his disgusting bright pink penis that inevitably shimmies its way out if you're even thinking about petting him, Buzz is a very sweet, small, and unaggressive dog. After about 2 agonizing minutes of whimpering at the door and practically going into seizures waiting for Andy and I to find our shoes, keys, grab some water, etc., Buzz was very ready to go on this walk.

We went out the front door and were immediately accosted by two curious neighbor dogs. One was a friendly and hyper golden retriever puppy who ran to me. The other, we'll call him "Angry," went straight for Buzz, who was with Andy on his leash. The neighbor girl had barely finished saying "The one is fine, but be careful with the black one, he's not very friendly," when the black dog used his jaws to pick up Buzz by the neck, shake him about and then toss him aside. It happened so fast I was practically in shock, but not nearly as much as poor little Buzzy, who was shakin' it like a Polaroid picture. The weird thing is, within seconds his mind was back on the walk. If this doesn't indicate how often Buzz gets taken on walks, nothing will.

All I can say is thank God Schipperkes were bred to have hair like this guy.

But seriously, if you've got a dog you know to be aggressive, perhaps don't let it run loose and attack other animals when they walk out the front door. Just a thought.

A review of all that is random, parte uno

The first in its series, this review of all that is random covers technologically awesome gadgetry, infomercial products, Doritos, video games, and the movie 300.

300: A professional critique
3.5 stars (out of 5)
What I liked:
The gore. 300 was inundated with splattering blood and loss of limb. But it was so fake-looking and excessive that it was more like watching The Itchy and Scratchy show, so I was able to handle it just fine.

The BODIES. 6 months of really intense fight training does a body good. As a Denver Post critic put it, "There is nary a fella among them who couldn't own the cover of Men's Health." For your enjoyment (perhaps more for mine), here is what I'm talking about:


What I did not think was hot:
Xerxes. Alright, who let Ru Paul into Xerxes' make-up trailer? C'mon, fess up ...

Technologically awesome gagdetry

Blue faucet light, Discovery Channel Store.
I'm proud to say I own this one. It makes for fun, cheap entertainment for those with little social life (or skills -- no need to talk when this baby's on). But it does encourage water waste. If only it came with a bathtub adapter.


Infomercial Products
some of this stuff's been around for years, but if it's new to me, it's ... new to me.

Therashower. This is such a cool product that they weren't even showing it at 3 a.m. It's a detachable showerhead with replaceable water filters that take care of chlorine and all that other nasty crap in tap water. But wait! That's not all! It also holds a cartridge of scented beads that releases steamy aromatherapy every time you turn on the shower. Order now for just $29.99 and get a lifetime supply of filter cartridges (and free "soapy sponge"!!!). WOWZA!!! (Let me know if it works, too. )

Noise amplifier. I just saw a commercial for this thing, and I can't find it online, and I would never venture to order it, either. but I thought it interesting because they actually advertise using it for eavesdropping purposes, like there's nothing morally askew there. Oh, but don't worry - it's also very practical, like if you're sitting in church and have a hard time hearing the sermon (no joke, both uses were advertised).

Doritos: The conspiracy
Spicy Nacho, Cooler Ranch, and Original Doritos are classic yummys. But has anyone other than myself and my roommate noticed that they are just not quite as "spicy," "Cool," or generally "Original" as they originally were? The Dorito conspiracy theory goes like this. Dorito now has it's younger, hipper chips to promote, like "Fiery Habenero," "Rancho," "Taco," "Toasted Corn," "Light Nacho Cheese," "Reduced Fat Cool Ranch," "Black Pepper Jack," "Salsa," "Salsa Verde," and "Blazin' Buffalo and Ranch." Didn't know there were so many, huh? That's a lot of flavor to promote. So why not dampen that flavor in the classics, which will always be big sellers, get folks to start thinking that maybe their Dorito relationship is getting a bit stale and much, much too corny. Then BAM! Introduce a plethora of new wild and exciting chip possibilities. Hmm, you had us for a while, Doritos - but now we're on to you. Tricksey and false, I tell you ... Tricksey and false.

Mario Kart double dash
I'm no video game connoisseur, but I do know my Mario Kart. An avid N64 Mario Kart gamer, I could tell you just about every short-cut, name every track, and even hum the music that goes with each one. What I'm saying is this: take me seriously here.
Mario Kart Double Dash on Nintendo GameCube is not as cool. Sure, it may have clearer graphics, more receptive controllers, and little baby versions of the classic characters, but part of the fun of the original Mario Kart was the confusion of it all. I reveled in my angry yet sentimentally loyal "What the hell?! I totally did NOT slip on that banana!," or my opponent's furious "I am NOT telling you to go that way! WHAT ARE YOU DOING, WARIO?" What about the ambiguously gay Luigi's post-race antics, and Peach's absolutely unsubtle whoring of herself? Or Rainbow Road, the creator of which was clearly shrooming. Don't we want that back? I say why let go of the past so easily? It's in all that chaos that we truly found ourselves.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
If there's anything you'd like reviewed in the next edition of "A review of all that is random," send it my way and I'll see what I can do!

Donate some tampons for free. No, really!

Women's shelters in the U.S. go through thousands of tampons and pads monthly. Assistance agencies generally help with expenses of "everyday" necessities such as toilet paper, diapers, and clothing, but one of the most BASIC needs is overlooked - feminine hygiene products. To a woman in a shelter $5 for a box of tampons is a lot of money.

Seventh Generation, a green paper products and cleaning products company, has a do-good attitude and will donate a box of sanitary products to a women's shelter in your chosen state - just for clicking the link. Talk about easy (literally takes less than 1 minute and they ask nothing of you). And, yes, it is Legitimate!

http://www.tampontification.com/donate.php

Hansaplast, you irk me.

Earlier I told a fun little puff piece on how I dreamed I was eating salami and then later, when I was awake, I could smell it even though there was none present. Here is the continuation of that story:

I smelled it again tonight, and I told my roomie, Ben. I said, "Ben, do you smell it?!" and he replied: "Hmm, no. But you know how sometimes when people have brain tumors they'll start smelling burning?..."

And now I live in fear. Not such a puff piece anymore, is it, BEN?

Now for a bit of nothing:
I wouldn't recommend using band-aids purchased in Nicaragua for actual open wounds. When I went to Nicaragua a couple years ago, we did so much walking that I started to get blisters, so I bought a standard box of bandaids (not BandAid brand, no) to put on the bottom of my feet. That was all fine and well, but since then I've been using that same box, because how many bandaids do you go through when you're not 5, you know? And every time I use one I get so annoyed with myself, because the little pad on these bandaids is fluorescent orange, and every time it leaves this hideous bright orange rectangle stain. I've got a scrape on the top of my hand right now, and I used one of those damn "Hansaplasts" again. It looks as though I spent my evening in some 18+ club that obnoxiously stamps the hands of those not-of-age so as to keep them from even lifting a glass containing alcohol without hailing a bartender. I bet this stain even glows in black light ...

A new generation of employees

What, with 500 billion blogs being published every 10 seconds (it's a fact - don't cross me), there are a lot of us out there who feel the need to divulge our inner dialogue, our innerlogue if you will (or mayhaps "dialinner"?). I wonder just how that affects our careers (or our attempts at them).

The "bosses" of today didn't have these forums when they were starting out. They were hired based on first, second and maybe third impressions. Or they had a good connection. But what would someone looking to hire me say if they read all about me on this blog? This topic has been covered broadly, I know, but today I got to thinking about how it is going to change things when WE become the "bosses," the ones who choose the ones who'll follow. Not that many adults in older generations don't, but we, because we were literally raised on this wave of new web technology, have know-how that will only continue to burst through generations.

I think it will get to a point where if we punch in a possible hire's name in our favorite search engine, and we don't get a list of things to click on, we'll be less likely to follow up. Even if it's a locked Facebook profile, a private blog, something we can't even learn anything from -- if they're not somehow linked to technology, we might not want them. This, of course, is assumptive and brash. But I think even at this point I'm so used to being able to "stalk" just about anyone online that I'm a little disappointed when I can't find anything. Like a "come on - get with it!" kind of attitude. But then that's entirely selfish, too.

On a completely different subject, there was salami in my dreams last night and I was eating it. That alone doesn't warrant me typing it, but what does is that I am now smelling salami in the apartment, even though we've got none. Hmmm, Waking Life? ...

Okay, but now that I've mentioned smelling salami, I've got a story to tell. Freshman year in the dorms, the people below (probably above and all around as well) used to smoke a lot of pot (hi, it's Boulder), and often it would come through the vent in our room and stink it up. Well this happened one day while I was hanging out with Macky in her room next door, and her roommate came in. We'll call her Tara for protection's sake. The conversation went as follows:
{Enter Tara}
Me and Macky (M&M):Hey Tara.
Tara: Hi! {pauses} Ummm ... are you guys cooking? ...
M&M: {exchange looks of curiosity at such a question, because a)we were in a dorm room that didn't even contain a sink, and b)us cook? bah.} Err, no Tara - that would be the smell of weed.
Tara: ... oh. It kind of smells like salami.