Tuesday, April 26, 2005

Somebody's Got A Case Of The Tuesdays

Why are there so many songs about Tuesdays? By the way, congratualtions if you managed to read that sentence without hearing the opening chords of The Rainbow Connection playing in your head. Why are there so many songs about Tuesday? It's arguably the blandest day of the week. But a quick search through my own iTunes collection brought up Ruby Tuesday, by the Rolling Stones; Tuesday's Gone, by Lynryd Skynyrd; Tuesday Afternoon, by the Moody Blues; and Church on Tuesday by Stone Temple Pilots. And then there's that 80's band 'Til Tuesday. Tuesday must have a really good agent.

What? All you get is a paragraph today. The medical conference brochure season kicked off last week and pretty much all I've been doing since then is copying and pasting extremely long titles like, "Managing Chronic Pain in the Patient with Risk Factors for Cardiovascular or GI Complications," and "Practical Tools for Primary Care Management of Women with Stress Urinary Incontinence (SUI)." Sometimes I have to stop and take a few deep breaths, I'm having so much fun. If you're looking for something to do, might I suggest picking up a copy of the first season of Arrested Development. Fox, the same network that brought us a show about Pamala Anderson in a bookstore, still hasn't announced if AD will be back next year or not. You can find out more information than you could ever possibly want about the show here.

Wednesday, April 20, 2005

The Wollaston Beach Horror

I know I haven't written anything new in two weeks or so, but it turns out nothing worth writing about happened in that span. Yeah, that's the ticket. I suppose I could have mentioned that a string of 70 degree days was broken by what I can only assume was Sean Connery's weather-altering machine. Nothing else short of an enormous Ally Sheedy shaking her dandruff-ridden head down upon us could explain the freak snowfall last Tuesday night. At least it was gone the next day, and today it's supposed to get to 85 degrees, if it hasn't already.

I guess I could have written about the all-day Halo 2 game on Saturday. I've been to a few of these now, usually at Nick's friend Eric's place; a run-down old house, like the one in Fight Club. There isn't a wall, floor or ceiling in the place that doesn't have at least one hole in it, and it seems as if the only thing holding the building together is the thick layer of filth that's grown over the years. The last time I was there, they actually had a large piece of cardboard in place of a wall. It's the best place ever. The walls are lined with movie posters, Simpsons, and Clerks figures, and all kinds of crazy crap. Not to mention the obscenely expensive entertainment center and computer he's got set up in his room. Much nicer than the old TV in the room I was in, with a hole where the speaker is supposed to be.

TV with no speakers hole in the wall
the sky is falling sticker covered chair
crowbar for a lock Wow. Just wow.


But that's not where we went Saturday. Instead, we drove to Brian's house in Watertown. Brian is another guy Nick knows from Best Buy. This place is a million times nicer, but like the Fight Club house, there are posters and action figures all over the place. The moulding above the kitchen door has a Twinkie the Kid figure standing next to a Michael Myers figure. Brian is living the American Dream.

In order to have a decent eight-man game, you need four TVs (as well as four Xboxes and four copies of the game), with two people playing on each one. So two people brought their own TVs with them. Not little portable ones, either; these things each had at least 29" screens. Brian had a projector connected to his Xbox in his room, so his screen was pretty much his entire wall. I would think that having a large screen would make a shooting game easier, but I wouldn't know, since I was playing on the smallest TV there. It probably didn't make much difference, since I was the only one who didn't own an Xbox. It was also my first time playing Halo 2, so most of the levels were unfamiliar to me. Needless to say, I died a lot. Of course, I died a lot in the original Halo as well, which is why I use "Target" for my character in both games. One of the other guys used "AIDS" as his name, so when he shot you the screen says "You have been killed by AIDS." He later changed his name to "having unsafe sex". But I'm always Target, since all I do is get shot. At least Halo 2 has the option of creating an emblem for you character. Mine was a bullseye.

But today I'm going to write about last night's five dollar movie, The Amityville Horror. Most of the horror movies that have come out recently haven't been remotely scary, which is surprising, since I'm such a huge weenie. But this one really creeped me out. Jose wasn't impressed and laughed through the whole movie, but screw him. If any of the stuff in the movie happened to him, his underwear would look like a burrito. Unless violent masturbation wards off ghosts, in which case he has nothing to worry about. There's a lot of people getting grabbed from behind in this movie, and I HATE that! I don't like when people do that to me, regardless of whether they're alive or dead. I guess when dead people do it I hate it a little bit more, but you get the point. And I don't care what anyone says, creepy little ghost kids are just plain scary. I've lived in my apartment for almost a year now, and I'm still not completely comfortable there. Who knows what happened there before we moved in? Actually, I guess Rich, the landlord knows, since he lives across the hall. But I still get the creeps thinking about the evil spirit thing that tried to kill me a bunch of times, even if it did turn out to be a sleep disorder. Maybe that's just what they want me to think.
Anyway, back to the movie. That Van Wilder guy is all jacked in this movie, and he forgot to shave off his beard from Blade: Trinity. I've never seen the original Amitiyville, but supposedly it's based on a true story (snopes.com says otherwise.) My question is, why is it that in movies, when people see weird things that shouldn't be happening, they go in for a closer look instead of running as far away in the other direction as humanly possible? "Hey, what's that creepy, demonic voice coming from the basement? I guess I'll go down and check it out. Do deed doo..." If they were weenies like me, they'd just run away and spare their friends and family the humiliation of getting flayed by the living dead.

You know what's even scarier though? We have a new Pope. One that was in the Hitler Freaking Youth. But it's okay, it was against his will. Forgive me if the only thing I find optimistic about his Papacy is that he's nearly 80.

Friday, April 08, 2005

Up Close And Impersonals

Every two weeks, a new issue of the Improper Bostonian comes out. It's a free magazine found around the city, and more often than not, there's a picture of a celebrity with local roots on the cover, such as Eliza Dushku and Michael Chiklis. Sometimes it's interesting to see a cover and say, "Hey. Matt LeBlanc is from Newton. How about that."

But the only reason I pick one up is the Impersonals. Sure, most of the time they're ultra-sappy love letters or sad, desperate attempts by guys who might have shared a glance with a woman in front of Macy's to track them down and tell them they've got a nice ass. But once in a while you find a gem. For example, one of the first ones I remember reading was from a guy who directed his letter to his girlfriend and his best friend. He said he knew thew were screwing around behind his back and to knock it off. That's good stuff right there.

This one is from the most recent issue, with the Farrelly brothers on the cover:

Good Riddance

You wooed me with your sweet words and gestures and didn't stop until you had me. Once you roped me in, I eventually saw what you truly are--a pathetic, self-involved, hating, low-lass, lying, cheating, idiot scumbag. Sometimes I am reminded of you and I want to vomit into a box and send it to you. It makes me nearly physically ill to also think of any new girls you may set your sights upon. You exist in the filth that you create and surround yourself with. By the way, I lied, it is small, in fact, the smallest I have ever seen. Dick

- Kitten

But this one is my all time favorite, so far anyway:

Dear Mommy,

Thank you for pulling ticks off me and combing my coat all the time. And for clipping my nails and putting olive oil on my kibble and taking me to the Fells to run and swim. Thank you for not cutting off my balls. Thank you for spending so much time with me and protecting me from daddy, especially when he drinks beer. Thank you for letting me lick your feet in the morning and for kicking daddy out of bed to walk me at 6 am in sub-zero weather. Thanks for the rawhide, the bones, the stuffed-toys, the squeaky toys and all the other crap. Thanks for the lobster, the chicken, the steak, the scrambled eggs, the sugar cereal, the cannolis and all the other stuff you aren't supposed to feed me. Thank you for giving me my own TV chair and for generally letting me do whatever the hell I want. You're the best. Love,

-Hillman

I wonder if daddy made is point? Or did he end up getting his balls cut off. I hope there's a few good ones in the next issue. Less "I saw you in Kenmore Square. You, a blonde in a Johnny Damon jersey, Me, the pudgy, bald guy who tried to sell you a Yankees Suck bumper sticker." and more "This is to the jerk who dented my Chevy. When I find you, I'm gonna kick your ass while your mamma watches!" Is that too much to ask?

Monday, April 04, 2005

It's A Nice Day To Start Again

It's just not a wedding unless someone gets hit in the face. And boy was there a wedding on Saturday.

As you probably know by now, Nick and Hedie officially became Mr. and Mrs. Jones over the weekend. And if legend is to be believed, that means we all must now spend all of our time keeping up with them.

The rehearsal was at five o'clock on Friday, so I took the day off from work so I wouldn't miss it. The day started with a trip to Randolph to see Sin City in glorious digital...um...digital. The movie was great, especially Mickey Rourke as Marv. On the other hand, it seemed like Michael Madson didn't read the script until the the car ride over to the set.

When we got back to Nick's house, Jose wanted to watch the news to see if the Pope was still alive, so we put on the news. It was really creepy. All the news channels had their cameras pointed at his two third story windows to see when the lights go out, which would signal his death. Everyone was hovering around waiting for him to die. It was like Dick Clark's Rock'n Deathwatch. "The countdown will continue, right after a performance by Uncle Kracker and a word from our sponsor." Every ten minutes or so a reporter would say that it wouldn't be long, and after a while it almost seemed that they were annoyed that he hadn't died yet. The ticker crawling across the bottom of the screen said that 84 year old chicken tycoon Frank Perdue had died. I wondered if anyone had cameras outside his window, waiting to see when the lights go out.

Maybe it's just me, but I'd rather remember the man's accomplishments than watching him die on live TV. As five o'clock approached, we turned the ghoulish spectacle off and headed over to Saint Mary's in Quincy for the rehearsal.

amphibicarAs we were leaving Nick's house, a weird little boat-shaped car drove past us, coming from the dead end part of the street. Earlier, WZLX mentioned something about an April Fool's parade with fake Duck Tour cars; maybe that was one of them. Or maybe those two things are completely unrelated. Either way it wasn't something you see every day.

There's not really much to say about the reherseal, except that I would have liked to have done five or six more of them, because even after going through the whole ceremony twice, I still had no idea what I was supposed to do. The priest didn't quite grasp the concept of four "better men," so Jose stood at the alter while the rest of the better men served as ushers. I tried as hard as I could not to stare at Nick's two step sisters, who had apparently just gone "tanning" and were completely orange. They looked like Oompa Loompas. I'm never going to understand tanning. As far as I can tell, one day someone just decided that pale people aren't attractive and no one thought to question it, so they all sat out in the sun or under hot lamps until their skin CHANGED FREAKING COLOR and then wondered how they could have gotten skin cancer.

Anyway, the rehearsal dinner was back in Weymouth. There was talk of going back to Nick's to watch a movie afterwards, but I opted to go home so I could finish (or start, however you want to look at it) my speech for the reception. Before I left, Hedie handed out gift bags to everyone involved with the wedding. My bag had a picture frame and a silver mug with the words "Better man once, Best friend forever" on it. Aww. Luckily, I didn't get all weepy. The Green Mile incident was bad enough. Damn you, Tom Hanks!

I was determined to write the toast as soon as I got home. So I was as shocked at anyone when I woke up the next morning to discover that I had still not even started it. In a way, it didn't really matter, because I knew what I wanted to say in my head. I didn't need to write it down. I've had, what, two years now to think of something. So even though I had a few hours in the morning, I figured I didn't need a piece of paper to tell me what to say. If I couldn't think of anything good to say up there after knowing the two of them for eight years, I didn't deserve to be there.

I ate lunch at my parent's house and got to Nick's place a little after one o'clock. Except Nick wasn't there. He called and said he was up the street with Jose and the others getting lunch. I sat in his parent's house with his father and Joe (not that Joe, Nick's step-sister's boyfriend) watching Face/Off. Around the time it was suggested that Archer switch faces with Castor Troy to get information from Pollox, I realized Nick still hadn't come back yet. I started to wonder if he had second thoughts and high tailed it to Canada. Wah-Kee can get in now. But they showed up a few minutes later. They were at Chili's.

Michele called while we were watching Family Guy to say that the Pope died, and some other thing I can't remember. Nothing else seems as important when it's preceded by "the Pope died."

We watched a few more episodes, waiting for Chris to arrive with the limo. And by limo I mean his parents' Econo Van. In the meantime, we changed into our tuxes. I picked mine up on Thursday for the final fitting. It was pretty swank. It even came with socks. But the best part was the cane. We got canes! Freakin' sweet. With the tux and cane, all Jose needed was a monocle to look exactly like the Penguin.

They weren't just canes, they were "enforcement sticks," bestowed upon us ushers to administer out own brand of justice to anyone who stepped out of line during the ceremony. Talking during Mass? That's a caning. Nodding off during the prayers of the faithful. That's a caning. Staring at my cane? You better believe that's a caning.

We drove to Jose's place to pick up his cufflinks before making our way to the church. He got out and ran upstairs while we waited in the van. A few minutes later, he came back with an expletive-filled rant, but no cufflinks. His mother took them with her when she left. She got a ride from my parents, and we must have just missed them. We arrived at the church at the same time, he got his cufflinks and I seated my family. They were the first ones to arrive for the groom's side, but I didn't want to look like I was playing favorites, so I seated them seven or eight rows back. That came back to haunt me later when most of the guests had arrived and the first few rows on Nick's side were empty.

I did get nervous, walking people I'd never met down the isle, hoping that I put them in the right place. The grandmothers were supposed to be in the third row in, but I didn't know what they looked like and thought it might be a little rude to ask every elderly-looking woman who showed up if they were Nick's or Hedie's grandmother.

It was nice to see a lot of people I hadn't seen in a long time, though. John from BJ's was there, as well as everyone from Best Buy. They're all cool people. I guess I don't know them as well as Nick; they're really only my friends by proxy. Nick knows tons of people of all ages and walks of life (actually, I'm not sure what a walk of life is, aside from a Dire Straits song.) He's interesting that way. Sometimes he says things that might prompt a "Well, I never!" or two, but he's always honest about what's on his mind, good or bad. It's kind of refreshing.

Even Jim Hamm was there. About three years ago, Jim was at a magic show at Foxwoods and the magician dragged him up on stage. He placed Jim in a box, spun it around, and with a large puff of smoke, he opened the box and Jim was gone. Three years later, the magician was sitting at home watching TV when a commercial for Honey Baked Ham came on and he sat up. "Holy crap, the kid in the box!" He ran down to his basement and opened the trap door to find Jim, who had managed to survive all this time by eating a stockpile of dead doves he found in the corner. Okay, none of that actually happened, but it's a lot less boring than saying we haven't seen Jim in three years.

The wedding started at 5:30, and the rain that had been coming down all morning had long since stopped. The officiating priest was Father Shecky of Our Lady of Evening at the Improv. He started his sermon with a wedding joke, followed by assorted chuckles from the pews and seven or eight more wedding jokes. He stopped just shy of breaking into observational humor. "What's the deal with stained glass windows? Who buys something that already has stains on it?"

After they were pronounced man and wife and the ceremony was over, Nick, Hedie, Jose and Hedie's maid of honor Laura walked down the isle. I was in the front row with Wah-Kee and Chris, and as Nick walked by I handed him his cane. But Jose sort of has tunnel vision, so when I tried to hand him his, he just kept walking. I was practically waving it in his face and he didn't see it. Hedie asked everyone in the church to please remain for a few minutes while the photographer takes a group picture of all in attendence. The only way to get everyone was for him to go up on the balcony and have us look up at the camera. It looked like the ending of the Muppet Movie, with everyone crowded together looking up at the sky. "Life's like a movie, write your own ending..."

We piled back into the van, this time with a few of the bridesmaids, and drove over to the reception hall. I went over the speech in my head on the way, just like Michael Madson frantically reading his lines for the first time minutes before shooting Sin City. I should say that he is normally an exquisite actor and should he ever read this, please don't tie me to a chair and cut off my ear. Thanks.

I forgot the name of the place, but I think it began with a "T." So for all intents and purposes, let's call it Tom's. Tom's Wedding Reception and Bar Mitzvah Emporium. When we got to Tom's, the better men and bridesmaids were brought into a separate room were countless pictures of us were taken in every combination imaginable. That was a little tedious, but on the plus side, we got our own tray of bruschetta, nasty little ham rollup things and crackers and cheese. When Wah-Kee heard the word "cheese" his eyes lit up like a kid's at Christmas.

I don't know the history of Wah-Kee's cheese obsession. I know he can't swim, so maybe he was on a sinking ship one time, about to drown, when a cheese wheel floated by and he grabbed on and drifted to shore. That would certainly give me a greater appreciation for the stuff. All I know is we were at Nick's house one day and Wah-Kee asked if anyone wanted some cheese and crackers. We said "okay," and watched as he pulled a block of cheese, a cutting board and a slicer out of his inside coat pocket. At that moment, a race started in my head, and "Thank you," narrowly beat "Why the hell did you have that stuff in your coat?!"

When all the picture combinations had been exhausted, we all lined up in the same formation we were in during the wedding procession and got ready to make our way into the hall. As before, I was paired with Dina, who if I may say so was the hottest of the bridesmaids. The pairings were based on height. Sometimes it pays to be tall. So the wedding party lined up in the hallway, waiting to be introduced in pairs. We entered the room to the Rocky theme. Nick and Hedie came out to Indiana Jones.

I've been to several weddings over the years, and I've always wanted to sit at the big table. I was also tired of being dateless at all my cousin's weddings and especially my neighbor's wedding because most of the guests there were my age. This time I finally got to sit at the big table and I had a date, but since Michele wasn't part of the wedding party, she sat at ton of the other tables with my family. It's like my life is an O. Henry story. But that was the least of my problems. Before I knew it, it was time for me to give the speech. No turning back now....

To be continued...

Friday, April 01, 2005

The Clip Show

Ever sit down to watch a new episode of your favorite TV show, only to discover that the only new parts are a thinly veiled set up for a clip show? Don't you feel kind of cheated, like the writers couldn't think of anything new, so they just threw some old stuff back in your face? Like that episode of The Cosby Show where they showed all the times the kids sang to their grandparents for their anniversary. Oh, that Rudy. I think the first time I saw that was just before my family drove down to Virginia.

I used to think those episodes of Family Ties when they flashed back to the sixties where clip shows, and that the show must have been on for a really long time. But back then I was probably just starting school.

The Simpsons did bunch of them, too. There was the April Fool's Day one, where Bart shakes Homer's beer can so much that when Homer opens it, it causes an explosion. The rest of the episode is all footage from older episodes, some from way back when I was in seventh grade.

Hey, remember that time I didn't win the Bloggie? I guess the voters never read about Megan or Wah-Kee's birthday. Oh well. Their loss. I mean, there's some good stuff here. The epic two part story of love lost, the thrilling car ride after the Superbowl, and the fictional exploits of the Centurion and Pedro...

Maybe they're fans of Move Ya Body.