I Hate Snakes

Patton Oswalt always said that if he ever had a time machine, out of all the things he could do to save the world from the crazy monstrosities it sometimes finds itself in, he would transport himself back to 1997 and kill George Lucas to prevent him from making the three prequels to Star Wars.

After watching last night's, Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull, I might not stop him from getting his lusty revenge. It wasn't that it was so bad. Its biggest offence was recycling action that have been perfected elsewhere. At one point I was actually thinking, "Wow, they did that much better in The Mummy 2."

I guess Ironman set the typical action movie bar really high.

Lifeguard: A follow-up

I pretty much figured my rant about my work toilet liners would be a one-shot post, but as I used the bathroom on the floor above mine, what should I find? That's right, the Lifeguard toilet liners.

Generally conspiracy is my default mode. So is it just a coincidence that the fourth floor is where the sales department and senior management work? Hmm, I don't know.

It's fine, I've grown accustomed to the cheap replacements: Safe Haven.

In other news, I watched a couple clips from Joss Whedon's new Fox tv show, Dollhouse. Color me intrigued. Now, I just need to stop yelling, "Rosemary!" and "Helo!" at the screen. And "boobs!", I mean, "Eliza Dushku!"

Tired Toilet Humor

I was reading this from Gizmodo and (because I am sometimes twelve years old) I couldn't stop thinking of really bad potty jokes.

And now that I want to post, all of those "brilliant" one-liners are gone.

So now I will just comment on something rather serious concerning the commode. My work has replaced its toilet paper liners with really cheap, generic ones. And though I probably wouldn't have cared either way. A liner's a liner, right?

The previous brand name toilet liner was called: LIFEGUARD.

That's right, Lifeguard. And even though it probably wouldn't contribute to my salvation, in any form, in any way, a part of me wonders if it could have. You never know what could happen when you're poppin' a squat.



And a bidet to you, too.

Who's the better Deschanel?

On the one hand, last night's Bones episode featured a jaunty Boreanez and killer aim.


On the other hand, last month's Conan O'Brien performance featured a June Carter Cash haircut and Yo La Tango.


Normally M. Ward always tips the scales, but y'know, what? I luv 'em both! And so they both win.

Up, up and away!

Yes! Roberty Downey Jr. has brought back my faith that good movies are still out there. Thanks to him and his sky flying, quippy one-liners and anthropomorphic robots.

Now I can't decide whether to be excited or fearful for the Batman sequel, The Dark Knight. Hmm.

In totally unrelated news, Moonlight has been cancelled by CBS, proving that one: a nuts campaign is more effective than donating blood to the American Red Cross in the show's name (there's a joke somewhere in there that I'd rather not make) and two: Jason Dohring needs a job!



Which one of these points is sadder? It's a tough call.

Let me know when Korea lifts the imbargo on balls

Aah, Stephen Colbert. If only we can solve all the nation's problems by just having a dance off. I'd love to see McCain in stonewashed jeans and a sleeveless hoodie.



Or how 'bout Obama in some nice shelltop Adidas?

Me, too!

Yup, this is where I'm at right now. Could it be because I will not be homeless in two weeks? Maybe. Could it be that I wore a cute, girly dress today that makes my 5'2 frame a wee bit taller? Possibly. Could it just be that I love the Discovery Channel? Yeah, that's probably it.



Oh, and the world's nice, too.

Y'know, that Sweater Song

If I was mathematically inclined, I would come up with a graph outlining the appropriate balance of independent musician to commercial play Alexandra Patsaves could showcase in her television oeuvre. Maybe Alexandra is too specific, the woman does commandeer the music of practically a dozen shows currently on air, but I wonder sometimes if marketing companies aren’t also contributing to the ruination of the indie community.

Why go to your favorite record store, or listen to your favorite program on KRCL (before format changes), when you can flip through the channels and catch the tail end of Grey’s Anatomy for a soundbyte of Jamie Lidell or a Fidelity Investments commercial of a New Pornographer’s song?

I’m a pretty lazy person. Sometimes it’s just easier to listen to Whitney Matheson’s PopCandy podcast to catch new music then actively seek out new bands. Is that the same thing? Should I hold off my righteous indignation at those Feist “123” Apple commercials when I discovered Ingrid Michaelson from Old Navy?

I guess what I really wonder is whether this give an' take is really beneficial for both parties. Well, all three parties. Musician, commercial facilitator and me. Will the image of my favorite musician stale if they’re suddenly thrust into visibility by the next Swanson’s Chicken Broth commercial or as background when Meredith finally realizes she’s never going to get back with Derek and rides off into the sunset vowing to become a lesbian?

These are the questions, folks.

This wasn't the song featured in Grey's Anatomy, but I found Jamie first. And he makes me happy.