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Friday, May 29, 2009
Ten Things You Didn't Know about Kevin, Ted's Coworker, from Kevin Tor, the Character's Real Life Counterpart
1. When he goes to Friday’s, he tells the bartender to give him a beer and the most fluorescent drink they have as a chaser.
2. He owns one of the six A-Team vans that were used on the series.
3. To get pumped up for company softball games, he listens to early Heart.
4. He has completed three Krav Maga classes.
5. He has an unhealthy addiction to Pocky.
6. He was beaten out by Puck for the final spot in Real World: San Francisco.
7. He knows and can still perform all the words to the McDonald’s Menu Song. Most people get stuck once the breakfast part starts.
8. He hates when people say “an historic” instead of “a historic.”
9. His favorite TV show of all time is Get a Life.
10. Has had seven separate bouts with scurvy due to a crippling fear of Vitamin C.
You can find more from the real Kevin here.
Summer, Here Comes Ces
Well, summer is here and with it all the great, life-altering plans I have for myself. This is the summer I'm really going to search out my destiny, not just await its arrival. This is the summer I'm going to take those first important steps to becoming the person I always knew in my heart I could be, not just walk the same old path. This is summer I finally sign up for NetFlix. This is the summer I finally make use of my Wii Fit. This is the summer I make my own frozen treats with nothing but orange juice, toothpicks, Saran Wrap, ice cube tray and a complete disregard for the fact that a "Sunshine on a Stick" sounds like something you bring to a rave:
Yes, Summer will be my moment. Summer will be my time to shine, to get my act together, to improve not only my life and outlook but also my very soul. Summer will definitely be my year. Uh, season. Whatever.
And just to prove that this isn’t another case of idle boasting or mothballed dreams, I have decided to enroll in an adult education course or 12. And while I was indeed surprised to learn just how many classes are no more than a chance to get an autograph from a D-list celebrity or learn that shyness is a poor tool in self-promotion, there were a few options that sounded if not educational at least not entirely booked up:
“Getting Your Classified Ad Published”
“Cooking with Ingredients”
“Finding Your Inner Child with a Flashlight and Scalpel”
“Avoiding Intimacy Issues”
“Daytrading, Horse Track Betting, Slots—The Three Paths to Financial Success”
So wish me luck as I begin "The Summer of Ces."
Yes, Summer will be my moment. Summer will be my time to shine, to get my act together, to improve not only my life and outlook but also my very soul. Summer will definitely be my year. Uh, season. Whatever.
And just to prove that this isn’t another case of idle boasting or mothballed dreams, I have decided to enroll in an adult education course or 12. And while I was indeed surprised to learn just how many classes are no more than a chance to get an autograph from a D-list celebrity or learn that shyness is a poor tool in self-promotion, there were a few options that sounded if not educational at least not entirely booked up:
“Getting Your Classified Ad Published”
“Cooking with Ingredients”
“Finding Your Inner Child with a Flashlight and Scalpel”
“Avoiding Intimacy Issues”
“Daytrading, Horse Track Betting, Slots—The Three Paths to Financial Success”
So wish me luck as I begin "The Summer of Ces."
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Chronic Town
Just a few inside jokes for fans of R.E.M.'s 1982 EP. Every song from that record made the cut except my favorite, "Gardening at Night," which I couldn't work in without the dialogue getting truly strange:
Sally: What do you mean you and Faye were gardening at night? Is that some sort of euphemism?
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
A Conversation with Mom
Note: The following conversation has been edited so as not to spoil the fun for loyal viewers of "Lost," both those up-to-date on the series and those who are currently seasons behind, like yours truly.
Mom and I talk on the phone.
Mom: Ces, I have a prediction about what's going to happen in the season finale of Lost...
Ces: Don't say anything, Mom!
Mom: Why not?
Ces: Because every time you say you have a "prediction" about what's going to happen on the show it turns out you either previously read some spoiler in a magazine or you just end up divulging waaaay to much about an epsiode I have yet to see.
Mom: Now that's not true...
Ces: Mom, last week you said you wanted to talk about the show. I said I didn't want to because I'm like two seasons episodes and didn't want anything revealed prematurely. You said you had no intention of revealing any such information. Then you proceed to tell me (Edit: major spolier).
Mom: But this is different! It hasn't happened yet. Plus, it's not a fact. It's a prediction.
Ces: Okay, Mom. What is it?
Mom makes a very, very detailed prediction about the season finale of Lost.
Ces: Wow, that's...that's really precise.
Mom: I just have this feeling.
Ces: I mean, that's really precise. And...and there hasn't been any set-up for it at all. How did you even come to that prediction?
Mom: Oh, I read about that part.
Mom and I talk on the phone.
Mom: Ces, I have a prediction about what's going to happen in the season finale of Lost...
Ces: Don't say anything, Mom!
Mom: Why not?
Ces: Because every time you say you have a "prediction" about what's going to happen on the show it turns out you either previously read some spoiler in a magazine or you just end up divulging waaaay to much about an epsiode I have yet to see.
Mom: Now that's not true...
Ces: Mom, last week you said you wanted to talk about the show. I said I didn't want to because I'm like two seasons episodes and didn't want anything revealed prematurely. You said you had no intention of revealing any such information. Then you proceed to tell me (Edit: major spolier).
Mom: But this is different! It hasn't happened yet. Plus, it's not a fact. It's a prediction.
Ces: Okay, Mom. What is it?
Mom makes a very, very detailed prediction about the season finale of Lost.
Ces: Wow, that's...that's really precise.
Mom: I just have this feeling.
Ces: I mean, that's really precise. And...and there hasn't been any set-up for it at all. How did you even come to that prediction?
Mom: Oh, I read about that part.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Upcoming Plans and Ultimate Results for Summer 2009
Read a book a week. Complete 11 Tintin adventures and one Scrooge McDuck collection.
Open self to new experiences. Close season with great distrust of alligators, unlicensed physicians and ball gags.
Keep diary to record every thought. Learn upon review that you suffer from multiple personalities, each with their own credit card debt.
Take brisk constitutionals after dinner. End first walk 85 miles later by calling home to say you never really ever wanted to raise a family in the first place.
Promise self to drink less alcohol this summer. Then promise self to at least make less alcohol this summer. Eventually promise self to simply end each night either at home or in a nearby park.
Take vow of celibacy to avoid unhealthy relationships. Rescind vow after violating second pet cat.
Teach self a foreign language, initially a recognized tongue but inevitably something you like to call “Monkeyish.”
Commence diet consisting entirely of fruits and vegetables. Grow to hate green, red, yellow and every other color save “flank steak.”
Work on abs. Then on delts. Then on glutes. Then solely on wang.
Join team league. Discover one championship season later how much family was embarrassed by your absolute commitment to “Competitive Red Light Green Light”
Get in touch with spiritual side. Experience flashback to when you and Father Hanahan played “Strip Candyland.”
Enroll in adult education class to meet single women. Realize what a sausagefest “Introduction to Sylvia Plath” truly is.
Direct passion and energy to worthy cause. Over three months come to redefine “worthy cause” as “anything that can be accomplished with spare change or leftover Chinese food.”
Pledge to always be there for your children this summer as a parent, a role model and a friend, no matter what the demands of work or life. Wind up giving each kid 20 bucks a week and a simple set of life instructions, like “Go north.”
Tell self in August that this fall is when you’re really going to get things done. Curse own name come December.
Open self to new experiences. Close season with great distrust of alligators, unlicensed physicians and ball gags.
Keep diary to record every thought. Learn upon review that you suffer from multiple personalities, each with their own credit card debt.
Take brisk constitutionals after dinner. End first walk 85 miles later by calling home to say you never really ever wanted to raise a family in the first place.
Promise self to drink less alcohol this summer. Then promise self to at least make less alcohol this summer. Eventually promise self to simply end each night either at home or in a nearby park.
Take vow of celibacy to avoid unhealthy relationships. Rescind vow after violating second pet cat.
Teach self a foreign language, initially a recognized tongue but inevitably something you like to call “Monkeyish.”
Commence diet consisting entirely of fruits and vegetables. Grow to hate green, red, yellow and every other color save “flank steak.”
Work on abs. Then on delts. Then on glutes. Then solely on wang.
Join team league. Discover one championship season later how much family was embarrassed by your absolute commitment to “Competitive Red Light Green Light”
Get in touch with spiritual side. Experience flashback to when you and Father Hanahan played “Strip Candyland.”
Enroll in adult education class to meet single women. Realize what a sausagefest “Introduction to Sylvia Plath” truly is.
Direct passion and energy to worthy cause. Over three months come to redefine “worthy cause” as “anything that can be accomplished with spare change or leftover Chinese food.”
Pledge to always be there for your children this summer as a parent, a role model and a friend, no matter what the demands of work or life. Wind up giving each kid 20 bucks a week and a simple set of life instructions, like “Go north.”
Tell self in August that this fall is when you’re really going to get things done. Curse own name come December.
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