“So I was sitting in my cubicle today and I realized that ever since I started working, every day of my life has been worse than the day before it. So that means that every single day that you see me, that’s on the worst day of my life.”
Peter Gibbons (Ron Livingston) Office Space
(I may have posted this once before)
New You
Originally uploaded by browsermetrics.
Did I ever tell you I like girls in glasses?
I need to revisit my 5 year plan. Get the fuck out of IniTech and go all Delicious Mac development.But no.I'm a pussy.That's why I work at IniTech.(I think I wrote this post 5 years ago) FML
Yes. It is very personal. It is part of who I am, and who I am is a sucker. It is a large part of my identity — wrapped around me like a Patagonia better sweater. I have to peel it away, and let myself understand that it isn't me. It is my job. Now if I can only get over the fear of looking for a new job. Or being jobless. Or the new day. Or the new place. Or the new people. Or the interviews.Once again, Peter Gibbons will describe me in a succinct, brilliant quote: "I'm gonna end up doing it, because, uh… because I'm a big pussy, which is why I work at Initech to begin with." http://pieratt.tumblr.com/post/977179815/in-praise-of-quitting-your-job
After releasing the very lyrical movies, Up and Wall-E, Pixar returns to the movie franchise that put them on the map. Excuse me, I don’t understand the appeal of the Toy Story franchise. I may be a simpleton and one of the few that didn’t find Toy Story 3 as another Pixar knock-out, blockbuster hit. My low opinion of the Toy Story franchise has biased me into not paying proper respect to the movies. I just can’t understand it.
RottenTomatoes.com has Toy Story 3 at 99%. I may have seen a different movie. Wait a second while I go read some of the blurbs there.
Okay, I’m back. While it does top the tomato meter, a lot of the blurbs give it decent coverage following in the previous movies’ greatness yet also acknowledging the formality of this final installment.
The movie doesn’t wow me like the other Pixar films. Even the ones I don’t regard highly, Finding Nemo and Ratatouille, I can find something to like. The Toy Story movies I find nada. Does this make me soulless?
What I find wrong with the Toy Story franchise is that they’re routine. Maybe the first installment might be a groundbreaker, but the rest I find unappealing. Yes, I know that their stories reflect how we grow up but that don’t mean squat to me.
The final movie just wasn’t impressive enough. It’s better than some other animated schlock, but not high in the Pixar patheon.
Most other Pixar movies give me hope that animated films can move beyond the kiddie movie ghetto, but Toy Story is the quintessential kiddie movie at least superficially. It drives me crazy that they don’t make it awesome. There was a point where I was hopeful that Pixar was gonna be brave and make the movie bold, but I knew that it had to have the happy ending.
That being said. The movie is solid story telling. Flawless in execution. Kids will like it many adults as well. Ho-hum.
3 of 5 stars. Plus a meh.
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind?
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and days of old lang syne?
For auld lang syne, my dear,
for auld lang syne,
we’ll take a cup of kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.
Auld Lag Syne, Robert Burns
Hurry up and turn the channel from that beat down administered by the Yankees to TCM. They’re showing Casablanca!
I had promised not to do this anymore. I’m weak like that. Pretty weak.
June 25, 2009
We were on vacation.
She had sent me a book. I flipped through it didn’t know what she wanted me to see.
I called her up.
She sent me a video said it was something. I had it playing on my iPhone. She called me several times. I saw it popping up on my visual voice mail one after another. I start going through that book looking for the page she wanted me to see.
I go to the pool. I come back and decide to call her up. I’m outside trying her line. She’s not picking up.
It was raining. I drove by their vacation home. She and her family were sitting in the car. I drove past and moved on turned left to go back home.
The first half of baseball season is done, and the wretched Orioles have completed it with a 40-48 record. I’m hoping for slightly better after the All Star break, at least 43 wins. Yet, that doesn’t sound so good, but if you know the Orioles, you know that they traditionally fade in the second half. Wait, fade is too nice of a word. They disappear. They get losing streaks that are absolutely crazy: 12 games, 10 games. For them to win 43 games and finish with a 83-93 record would be progress. One step, one season at a time.
But that’s something to look forward. The ultimate optimism of a fan of a terrible team.
Let’s look back. We’ve gone to 8 games (7 home, 1 away), and we’re 4-4. In fact, we caught the first two games of this past weekend. I haven’t been to back to back games since I was a kid: 1982 and the chase for the AL East title versus the Milwaukee Brewers. Friday’s was a loss. The O’s got no runs.
And it was sad, but we got fireworks!
And I got to talk to the ballgirl. She tells me they have to try out for the position. Cool. I don’t think I get to ask her about her health benefits. Those screaming line drives could hurt!
We had so much fun, we decide to go back for Saturday’s game. We make a day of it, by stopping by the Sports Legends Museum. Cool, but I just like the baseball part. Then the Babe Ruth Museum. Strange to be in Baltimore and see NY Yankees and Boston Red Sox to be feted. I couldn’t wait to get out of there quick.
Then we finally get to the park. I get the tickets in right field. Just where I really always want to sit. We watch Nick Markakis dawdle out the game. Nothing coming his way. We’re bored. Before the game, the gentleman two rows back talks to his son who was excited. His son wants to catch a foul. “Not if I don’t jump in his way,” I blurt out. The man wasn’t amused. A family sits right down behind us. During Aubrey Huffs first at bat, he taps me on the shoulder and says, “Watch out, Huff pulls lots of balls down this way.” Ooo. The fourth inning arrives and there is a ball hit our way. It’s coming, fading slightly to my left, three seats over across the aisle. A guy in a Pujols jersey is gonna get lucky. It hits him in the palm, pops out, he tries to snag it, bobbles it, and watches as his neighbor gets it. Too bad! “Sorry, man.” Buy that guy a beer.
Seventh inning. The next foul ball.
It’s hit right at me. I know. It is hit RIGHT AT ME! I stand up! Now, I’m not really good at fly balls, but this one I know: IT IS HIT RIGHT AT ME! I’m tracking it. It’s all mine! I reach to catch it. *POCK!* It’s hit my palm. I don’t got it. I look it to see where it is. It’s in some other guys hands as he picks it up off the floor. In all my years no foul ball has ever been as prettily hit towards me as that one. And I fucking drop it. My palm stings. Even more so because the ball is not in my possession. The dude in the Pujols jersey consoles me, “I know how you feel.” I’m still thinking about it.
But the MelMo comes through with a walk off homerun. What a game! This one and baseball. I can’t wait for the next half.
