Tuesday, February 25, 2014

Harold Ramis

My characters aren't losers. They're rebels. They win by their refusal to play by everyone else's rules. - Harold Ramis

The tough February continues. I always liked Phillip Seymour Hoffman in films. Especially Mission Impossible 3 and Almost Famous. But he had been battling heroin for decades. It was only a matter of time before it consumed him.

I loved Harold Ramis. Even though he was nearly 70 and overweight, I didn't picture this happening so suddenly.

Ghostbusters consumed my life long before Superman, Batman, or the Ninja Turtles. It's still in my top 10, sometimes top 5 films of all time.

There are pictures (that I'll have to dig up some day) of the Egon action figure I had when I was a kid. It was my favorite action figure. I played with him so often that the paint had come off of his face and was just the color of his blue uniform.

When we played Ghostbusters on the playground, I was always Egon. This was mostly because out of the three cousins, I was the tall, lanky, smart one. Ryan was the funny one (Peter Venkman). Jake was the slightly funny, and slightly smart best buddy, but he also had a striking resemblance to Dan Aykroyd's cartoon counterpart. (Ray Stantz)

We had the traps and proton packs and costumes and would run around saving the world from mischievous ghosts for hours on end. Vanquishing Gozer and fighting the Stay Puff Marshmallow man.

And the same cousins and I would watch Stripes fairly often, not only because Bill Murray and Harold Ramis made a great comedic duo, but because there were boobs, and we loved boobs.

Ramis was a writer on Caddyshack, Meatballs, Animal House, Back to School, Ghostbusters, Groundhog Day, and Analyze This/That. Think about that. Those are some of the biggest comedies of the past 30 years. And he was a writer, sometimes director, sometimes actor in them.

The world has lost one of the comedic geniuses coming out of the 70's. It highlights that we are about due to lose comics like Martin Short, Dan Aykroyd, Bill Murray, Steve Martin, Bill Cosby, among others. And other than Bill Murray, Ramis was probably my favorite of that group.

It's sort of selfish, but I'm really bummed that Ghostbusters 3 will never happen.

So Harold, rest in piece knowing that you left your mark.

Monday, February 24, 2014

Social Media Parents part 2

On April 25, 2013, I posted about how Social Media Parents annoy me.

It's seems a new generation of mother had their first born recently and ... I just... I just can't look away. I get so incensed over about half their posts, but I cannot bring myself to hide them from my feeds. It's like I need something to be angry about sometimes.

So these mom's are posting more often and about more ridiculous, mundane stuff. It's just getting worse as smartphones make it easier to share pictures or posts.

And with the sheer amount of posts, I'm realizing that white American baby, looks like white American baby. (At least for the first few months.) If you took the names off the posts and told me a kitten would be shot if I couldn't name the family that baby came from, we'd have a lot of dead kittens.

Here are some posts, slightly altered to hide baby identities.
"Baby had some wheezing. Doctor is having us take her to the ER. Children's or Cardinal Glennon?"
Really!? Really? You're told to take your baby to the hospital immediately, and you crowd source what hospital you take them too? Guess what, most hospitals are going to be equipped to handle a wheezing baby. Pull up Google maps, find a hospital with a good rating within 10 miles of your house, and go.
"Baby is so interested in tv, I don't even remember what was on last night. (And I know kids under 2 aren't supposed to watch tv)"
This was followed by a dozen close up pictures of the baby watching TV, making slightly different expressions. My guess is that your baby loves television so much because it let's her escape her crazy mother for a few minutes.

Then I have a friend that just says "Goofball" about 7 times a week and posts a picture of his kid climbing on a cabinet to get cookies or spinning in an office chair. Get a thesaurus buddy. And guess what, your kid doing that stuff isn't that crazy. Since the invention of office chairs, humans like spinning in them. And if you show me where cookies are, I'm going to find a way to get to them.

This young mom created a Facebook page for their baby and makes posts as if from the point of view of the baby.
"I sure hope to make my play date at some point today. - With Baby 1 and Mother"
"Look Who's Talking Now" made it hilarious, you make the talking baby creepy.

And my favorite, the person who knows they are about to make everyone on Facebook without a kid throw up. This was posted during prime dinner time.
"Disclaimer: friends without kids, you probably don't want to read this. Poor baby is having blowouts every.single.morning. We are changing pajamas and sometimes sheets daily. Sometimes its out back, sometimes up the front. The doctor is not concerned, but I am. How do you handle blow outs?"
And what follows is 19 graphic comments about other mother's poop covered sleepwear. Some of this stuff rivals journals coming out of World War I talking about the effects of mustard gas.

I guess these mom's are probably a little lonely and looking for some sort of social circle. But most of what is posted can be looked up on Google and form a private Facebook group for you and the other mom's to discuss what you get from Starbucks and what brand of diapers you use.

Tuesday, February 18, 2014

Sal Ruins Breakfast

My stomach doesn't really wake up before 10 am. Just give me my coffee and I'll try to figure out what I want to eat. I'm not a huge breakfast person. I have to sort of get myself hyped up for bacon, eggs, and toast the night before.

I used to be a simple man, with simple joys. Every week, I would go to the grocery store, browse the cereal aisle and make the decision of the week. What did I want for breakfast?

I was a man that just liked a bowl of Lucky Charms or Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Sometimes I would just want a frozen waffle. And if I worked a little overtime, I'd treat myself to the ever expensive and addictive, Fruity Pebbles. Yes, in the back of my head, I knew that marshmallows for breakfast wasn't exactly the best, but the sugar high would jump start my day and I never felt hungry until lunch time.

And I could write a philosophy book on the joy and calm of drinking the colored milk afterwards.

About a year into our marriage, Sallie got really into nutrition. One of her favorite things was to grab a box, look at the label, and then tell me how little nutrition there was. (Side note, it seems if it's sort of bad for you, but it has fiber or protein, she's a little more accepting.)

So I switched to just eating Cheerios every morning for the next 3 years. You know, heart healthy Cheerios. Since I'm most likely going to die of a heart attack, I figured I was extending my life.

Well, Sallie started learning more about nutrition and one day she picks up the box and says with a disgusted voice, "I don't know how this fills you up. There's no nutrition at all." Then she paused for a moment and quipped, "Well, I guess the milk at least has a little protein in it." ... and now for the past two years, we haven't had real milk in the fridge or that yellow inviting box of Cheerios on top of our fridge.

Yes, I know that she didn't physically stop me from eating this stuff, but it sort of takes the fun out of it. It's like when you were first told Santa wasn't real. Yes, Christmas is still good, but not quite as magical.

I type this as I eat my bowl of plain oats, with a banana, and some protein powder in it. It's boring, it looks ugly, and if you let it dry to the bowl, it'll require some scrubbing to clean it.

There are so many vitamins in my old man breakfast that there's no way Sal will ruin it, other than her preference being eggs and bacon. But still, I might hide the packaging a little more than I would have in the past.

Sunday, February 9, 2014

Jammed Packed, Dress Clothes and Kittens

This was one of those weekends that went way too quick, but when I think back on it, we really just jammed packed it with too much.

We created a drinking game for the opening ceremonies of the Olympics, which lead to me showing a buddy the cult of Playstation 4, which lead to us playing while listening to music, more drinks, and next thing you know, Friday night is over.

Saturday, I got out of bed, hit the gym, and we went to an afternoon Blues' game. This was the second game of the week where we got to sit within 10 rows of the ice, compliments of the Blues. By the time the game was over, it was dinner time. Then a quick nap, watch more Olympics, have some IPAs, and fall asleep relatively early.

And then today, wake up, go to store, get groceries to make home made strawberry pancakes, eat said pancakes, went to Kohl's to buy some dress clothes and look for sheets, and then to the gym.

That essentially is how every one of our weekends have been like since before Christmas. Just jammed. Next weekend, we're taking a long weekend so that we can do dumb things like renew our plates, go to the dentist, and try to fix one of the growing number of things wrong with our house.

So you might have noticed that I had to go to Kohl's for dress clothes and sheets. I was invited to a fancy pants steak/lobster dinner with the head of technology at works with a mix of six peers and managers. All of my dress clothes are from when I was almost 230 lbs. So I look a lot like a kid in art class wearing my dad's dress shirts as a smock.

I hate spending money on clothes that I hate wearing. It's one of those times that really wears Sal out because I regress into this 12 year old not wanting to get dressed for church. So, we found one pair of pants and one shirt. This was one of the few times where Kohl's really didn't have great deals. They were all buy one get one 50% off. I don't have the fluid cash to drop $100 on pants.

And their sheet selection left a lot to be desired.

This morning both the boys woke me up. It's one of those instances where you open your eyes and your two cats are so excited that you're awake and you forget all the times that you've hauled their poop filled litter boxes out to the dumpster or the thousands of dollars worth of damage they've done to the house. It was a good way to start the day.