by Phyllis
I hear people all the time talking at work about what was on TV last night. And it is not uncommon to see facebook 'friends' let me (and hundreds of other interested people) know they are working hard now so they can get home and catch Desperate Chuck's Bones or Dancing With Grey's Anatomy or How I Met Your Prison Nanny or something like that.
So I started to pay a little attention and keep track. I watch some network television (and I don't have cable), so I began to jot down shows networks are unsuccessfully pushing at me but apparently successfully getting everyone else to watch. So below is a list of shows I have never seen. And, yes, I have seen few seconds of some as I flip through hoping ESPN magically shows up somehow, but never have I seen an entire episode of any that follow. And I have never seen a second of most of them:
24
Lost
Grey's Anatomy
Desperate Housewives
How I Met Your Mother
Chuck
Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles
Numb3rs
Fringe
The Mentalist
Bones
NCIS
Gossip Girl
Supernatural
Cold Case
Without a Trace
Prison Break
Heroes
Friday Night Lights
The Bachelor
The Bachelorette
Brothers and Sisters
Dancing With the Stars
Super Nanny
Ugly Betty
Wife Swap
The Big Bang Theory
Criminal Minds
Rules of Engagement
The Unit
Survivor
American Dad
Dollhouse
Family Guy
Lie To Me
So You Think You Can Dance
'til Death
CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
CSI: NY
CSI: Miami
CSI: Nampa
Monday, May 18, 2009
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Web Fun, Part 2
by Phyllis
On to Web Fun, Part 2, but I must revisit Web Fun, Part 1 for a second. As it turns out, Darryl is desirous to make one thing clear: she who hated Prince's Batdance and made the Ada County arrests page is NOT his half-sister, but his STEP-sister. His desire to correct this error screams out clearly: "This person does not share my blood!"
Oddly, an argument could be made that she is of MY blood. How? Well, there was once a young girl (a beautiful and talented sister of mine, as it turns out) who completed that binding and sacred transaction of becoming Batdancehater's "blood-sister". To my knowledge, this bond has not been dissolved or annulled through official channels. So there you have it.
And now, a little more fun on the web. The other website which used to occupy hours of my idle time (when through a huge effort I could find idle time) was right here. From this website, you can look up various information regarding houses in our dear county. I will admit it was a little more fun when one of the pieces of information included was the last time the house was purchased and how much it was sold for. But there is still some good stuff: assessed value, square footage, tax districts, pictures. Yeah, I know--only good stuff if you are curious about stupid things like that.
A weird thing, though: if you were to look up my house on the website you would see that as far as Ada County is concerned my house is 2598 square feet. This is grossly wrong. There are over 600 square feet (I ballparked it) that are not counted for some strange reason. The report does show 664 sq. ft. that are counted as something called "Car Storage," but I am not clear on what that means.
It is all quite confusing. I remember looking at houses in my neighborhood, and each was advertised as having bedrooms, bathrooms, living rooms, etc. But all of them were also said to have a 2- or 3-car garage. I don't know what this is. These areas are clearly meant to be part of the house, and should be counted in calculation of square footage. They are ideal for putting all the gross, disgusting, broken-down, and useless items we don't want dirtying and cluttering up the bedroom, family room, or kitchen. Right?
Adding to the confusion is another misnomer used to describe the paved part of one's property that leads directly to this "car garage" thing. Why is it called a driveway when it is obviously a location for storing one's automobiles? The unfortunate use of "driveway" falsely leads some people to think of driving across this area and into the garage. But why on earth would you do that?
And names like "road" or "street" or "avenue" don't help either. Many of these near my home should be renamed to "driveway" or "lot" for it is clear this is another place to store vehicles. Looking out my front window it looks like that area right outside Bronco Stadium, and I believe it is called a "lot." How about some consistency here?
Alas! I must confess I am adding to the confusion. Upon first driving to our new home, I drove our cars into this poorly named 3-car garage thing and left them there. I found it highly convenient to have them there and have been flouting convention ever since. I know I am wasting several hundred square feet of space by choosing to keep the vehicles cooler in summer and warmer in winter, and I am grossly negligent in helping my "street" look like the parking lot it should be.
Sorry about that.
On to Web Fun, Part 2, but I must revisit Web Fun, Part 1 for a second. As it turns out, Darryl is desirous to make one thing clear: she who hated Prince's Batdance and made the Ada County arrests page is NOT his half-sister, but his STEP-sister. His desire to correct this error screams out clearly: "This person does not share my blood!"
Oddly, an argument could be made that she is of MY blood. How? Well, there was once a young girl (a beautiful and talented sister of mine, as it turns out) who completed that binding and sacred transaction of becoming Batdancehater's "blood-sister". To my knowledge, this bond has not been dissolved or annulled through official channels. So there you have it.
And now, a little more fun on the web. The other website which used to occupy hours of my idle time (when through a huge effort I could find idle time) was right here. From this website, you can look up various information regarding houses in our dear county. I will admit it was a little more fun when one of the pieces of information included was the last time the house was purchased and how much it was sold for. But there is still some good stuff: assessed value, square footage, tax districts, pictures. Yeah, I know--only good stuff if you are curious about stupid things like that.
A weird thing, though: if you were to look up my house on the website you would see that as far as Ada County is concerned my house is 2598 square feet. This is grossly wrong. There are over 600 square feet (I ballparked it) that are not counted for some strange reason. The report does show 664 sq. ft. that are counted as something called "Car Storage," but I am not clear on what that means.
It is all quite confusing. I remember looking at houses in my neighborhood, and each was advertised as having bedrooms, bathrooms, living rooms, etc. But all of them were also said to have a 2- or 3-car garage. I don't know what this is. These areas are clearly meant to be part of the house, and should be counted in calculation of square footage. They are ideal for putting all the gross, disgusting, broken-down, and useless items we don't want dirtying and cluttering up the bedroom, family room, or kitchen. Right?
Adding to the confusion is another misnomer used to describe the paved part of one's property that leads directly to this "car garage" thing. Why is it called a driveway when it is obviously a location for storing one's automobiles? The unfortunate use of "driveway" falsely leads some people to think of driving across this area and into the garage. But why on earth would you do that?
And names like "road" or "street" or "avenue" don't help either. Many of these near my home should be renamed to "driveway" or "lot" for it is clear this is another place to store vehicles. Looking out my front window it looks like that area right outside Bronco Stadium, and I believe it is called a "lot." How about some consistency here?
Alas! I must confess I am adding to the confusion. Upon first driving to our new home, I drove our cars into this poorly named 3-car garage thing and left them there. I found it highly convenient to have them there and have been flouting convention ever since. I know I am wasting several hundred square feet of space by choosing to keep the vehicles cooler in summer and warmer in winter, and I am grossly negligent in helping my "street" look like the parking lot it should be.
Sorry about that.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Not Even Close
by Phyllis
It might not seem like a big deal, but I will admit I spent more than a couple minutes in 1993 thinking about music as I thought about my impending nuptials with MLB. No, I was not concerned about what we would hear playing in the background or who might perform at the reception. (This was decided for me, and as it turns out, although I have a musically talented family, some girl I didn't know played the piano and and another unknown sang a song.)
But I was thinking about the kind of music I like, and what MLB's tastes were. Trust me, people. It's an important issue. Seriously, what if she had been a devotee of Rush, or Def Leppard, or Phil Collins? Suppose she really liked Vanilla Ice, had been to several Exposé concerts, or had all the Garth Brooks CDs? Honestly, how is such a person to be worked upon?
Fortunately we had no huge issues and found we had similar tastes--truly a key ingredient in the recipe for wedded bliss. Even some of the slight differences in our musical tastes have been reconciled over the years. MLB has begun to like some music I like, and I have followed her lead, as well.
There is one band I like, however, that was a source of confusion for MLB: The Icicle Works. She never had an interest when I would listen to them, and didn't put forth much effort to understand who they were. As a matter of fact, she repeatedly referred to them as Icehouse, a travesty and disgusting untruth which made me as angry as Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Each time MLB said it I would set out 'at once to insist upon having such a report universally contradicted.'
"How could you confuse those two bands?" I would bellow, and soon we would be discussing Icehouse's ridiculous "Crazy" video. (Go ahead and watch it all, if you want some good laughs. A few key items to enjoy: the woman's utter ecstasy after making her song request, the hat, the worthy and powerful mullet, the pants--wow, it's all nearly too much!) But, alas! a hilarious video and the king of all mullets do not a good band make.
So I would play a song for MLB by Icicle Works, "The Cauldron of Love" for example. What a great song! So I would ask her: "Do you want to hear more? A Factory in the Desert, Little Girl Lost, Walking With a Mountain, Evangeline, Hollow Horse, Who Do You Want For Your Love? Clearly there is no comparison." Surely MLB would remember from now on, right. I sure hoped so.
Last week a horrible thing happened. I was enjoying the Icicle Works station I created on Pandora. It was cycling through some good stuff, you know, New Order, Echo & the Bunnymen, Tears for Fears, Aztec Camera. Then one sweet tune ended and a terrible cacophony began to assault my ears. I quickly maximized the Pandora window and stared in amazement: it had queued up "Crazy" by Icehouse!
Bad job, Pandora! Are you confused, too? Thumbs down!
It might not seem like a big deal, but I will admit I spent more than a couple minutes in 1993 thinking about music as I thought about my impending nuptials with MLB. No, I was not concerned about what we would hear playing in the background or who might perform at the reception. (This was decided for me, and as it turns out, although I have a musically talented family, some girl I didn't know played the piano and and another unknown sang a song.)
But I was thinking about the kind of music I like, and what MLB's tastes were. Trust me, people. It's an important issue. Seriously, what if she had been a devotee of Rush, or Def Leppard, or Phil Collins? Suppose she really liked Vanilla Ice, had been to several Exposé concerts, or had all the Garth Brooks CDs? Honestly, how is such a person to be worked upon?
Fortunately we had no huge issues and found we had similar tastes--truly a key ingredient in the recipe for wedded bliss. Even some of the slight differences in our musical tastes have been reconciled over the years. MLB has begun to like some music I like, and I have followed her lead, as well.
There is one band I like, however, that was a source of confusion for MLB: The Icicle Works. She never had an interest when I would listen to them, and didn't put forth much effort to understand who they were. As a matter of fact, she repeatedly referred to them as Icehouse, a travesty and disgusting untruth which made me as angry as Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Each time MLB said it I would set out 'at once to insist upon having such a report universally contradicted.'
"How could you confuse those two bands?" I would bellow, and soon we would be discussing Icehouse's ridiculous "Crazy" video. (Go ahead and watch it all, if you want some good laughs. A few key items to enjoy: the woman's utter ecstasy after making her song request, the hat, the worthy and powerful mullet, the pants--wow, it's all nearly too much!) But, alas! a hilarious video and the king of all mullets do not a good band make.
So I would play a song for MLB by Icicle Works, "The Cauldron of Love" for example. What a great song! So I would ask her: "Do you want to hear more? A Factory in the Desert, Little Girl Lost, Walking With a Mountain, Evangeline, Hollow Horse, Who Do You Want For Your Love? Clearly there is no comparison." Surely MLB would remember from now on, right. I sure hoped so.
Last week a horrible thing happened. I was enjoying the Icicle Works station I created on Pandora. It was cycling through some good stuff, you know, New Order, Echo & the Bunnymen, Tears for Fears, Aztec Camera. Then one sweet tune ended and a terrible cacophony began to assault my ears. I quickly maximized the Pandora window and stared in amazement: it had queued up "Crazy" by Icehouse!
Bad job, Pandora! Are you confused, too? Thumbs down!
Friday, April 3, 2009
Unacceptable
by Phyllis
Forgive my digression from Web Fun for a moment, but I must speak. The following is a portion of an e-mail that was forwarded to me recently. (The name has been changed.):
"As per our convo, Betsy Warner is not able to see her computer displayed thru the projector. The DVD works and everything looks like it is hooked up correctly. Can you please ask the IT folks to check it out. Keith"
No.
I am aware that "combo" is used as a shortened form of combination. And I can accept that. But give me a break with "convo" already. Do you mean to tell me "o" is now an acceptable shortening for the last three syllables of all words that end in "-tion"? Try again. Or let me make an obso about this. It would bring many complos to our language. People would find themselves needing to give an explo or even a defo of what was just said. Frankly I think it is an abomo, so please let's take this practice and give it a good defeno.
The only appropriate use of ridiculous shortenings of this type is for humor. Any of you who saw the 30 Rock episode where Josh's agent helps him with his contract know what I mean. That was hilar.
Other unacceptable shortenings:
sitch
vacay
And many others. What have I forgotten?
Forgive my digression from Web Fun for a moment, but I must speak. The following is a portion of an e-mail that was forwarded to me recently. (The name has been changed.):
"As per our convo, Betsy Warner is not able to see her computer displayed thru the projector. The DVD works and everything looks like it is hooked up correctly. Can you please ask the IT folks to check it out. Keith"
No.
I am aware that "combo" is used as a shortened form of combination. And I can accept that. But give me a break with "convo" already. Do you mean to tell me "o" is now an acceptable shortening for the last three syllables of all words that end in "-tion"? Try again. Or let me make an obso about this. It would bring many complos to our language. People would find themselves needing to give an explo or even a defo of what was just said. Frankly I think it is an abomo, so please let's take this practice and give it a good defeno.
The only appropriate use of ridiculous shortenings of this type is for humor. Any of you who saw the 30 Rock episode where Josh's agent helps him with his contract know what I mean. That was hilar.
Other unacceptable shortenings:
sitch
vacay
And many others. What have I forgotten?
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Web Fun, Part 1
by Phyllis
Several years ago, before such colossal time-wasters as blogs, youtube, and facebook were popular, I occupied some of my interweb time surfing up some pretty splendid netpages and such. At least I thought so.
I used to look daily at Ada County arrest reports, a five day report of which can always be found here. Every so often I would hit the jackpot and see someone I knew or knew of. I saw mugshots of an old business associate my dad used to have, a waitress at a local sushi joint we all know, and even Darryl's half-sister (she was not a fan of Prince's Batdance, in case you were wondering). I saw lots more people, of course, but it was best when I saw someone I knew.
But I had to stop visiting the site. For one, MLB started to get on my case. "Why do you get on that website every day?" she would say, and I couldn't answer honestly. What could I say? "Too see my fellow man at his worst, his most bummed out, his lowest. You know, to feel better about myself." I don't know if that was entirely true anyway.
I also stopped because I started to recognize repeat offenders, know their weaknesses, and probably why they were arrested. One time at work I saw some co-workers visiting the site and they called me over. "Dude. Check out THIS guy!" They almost fell over when I came back with "Oh, Steven Richard Archambeau is in jail again? What is it this time, possession of drug paraphernalia?"
Several years ago, before such colossal time-wasters as blogs, youtube, and facebook were popular, I occupied some of my interweb time surfing up some pretty splendid netpages and such. At least I thought so.
I used to look daily at Ada County arrest reports, a five day report of which can always be found here. Every so often I would hit the jackpot and see someone I knew or knew of. I saw mugshots of an old business associate my dad used to have, a waitress at a local sushi joint we all know, and even Darryl's half-sister (she was not a fan of Prince's Batdance, in case you were wondering). I saw lots more people, of course, but it was best when I saw someone I knew.
But I had to stop visiting the site. For one, MLB started to get on my case. "Why do you get on that website every day?" she would say, and I couldn't answer honestly. What could I say? "Too see my fellow man at his worst, his most bummed out, his lowest. You know, to feel better about myself." I don't know if that was entirely true anyway.
I also stopped because I started to recognize repeat offenders, know their weaknesses, and probably why they were arrested. One time at work I saw some co-workers visiting the site and they called me over. "Dude. Check out THIS guy!" They almost fell over when I came back with "Oh, Steven Richard Archambeau is in jail again? What is it this time, possession of drug paraphernalia?"
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Confession
by Phyllis
This is very difficult. I mean, I have done many things in my life I am not proud of. It's just that I get angry at myself when I repeat the same mistake. I know I shouldn't do it, but I cave in. Yes, I know I am human, but it still sucks.
And the thing I am talking about is something I promised myself I would never do again. It made me feel bad. I mean really physically ill, know what I mean? I can't take it back now and it has had devastating results. Aside from feeling sick inside, my self esteem has taken a huge hit. I struggle with self esteem anyway, so this just made me feel worthless.
Okay, enough of the cryptic prelude: last Tuesday, I went somewhere I shouldn't have gone. This place is like my own personal Mos Eisley, because I really believe, like Obi-Wan said, "you will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy." Okay, so the people there aren't villains, I guess, but what they are doing is wrong. It is NOT healthy, and they need to stop. But when I look at them, I can see they are not as disappointed with themselves for being there as I am. The smiles on their faces tell me otherwise. And that adds to how bad I feel. It is just SO wrong.
But I need to let this out, so I am no longer hiding a painful secret, so someone will reach out to me and help. Please don't hate me and DO see this as a cry for help. And here it is:
Last Tuesday, I went and had lunch at The Great Wall Restaurant.
This is very difficult. I mean, I have done many things in my life I am not proud of. It's just that I get angry at myself when I repeat the same mistake. I know I shouldn't do it, but I cave in. Yes, I know I am human, but it still sucks.
And the thing I am talking about is something I promised myself I would never do again. It made me feel bad. I mean really physically ill, know what I mean? I can't take it back now and it has had devastating results. Aside from feeling sick inside, my self esteem has taken a huge hit. I struggle with self esteem anyway, so this just made me feel worthless.
Okay, enough of the cryptic prelude: last Tuesday, I went somewhere I shouldn't have gone. This place is like my own personal Mos Eisley, because I really believe, like Obi-Wan said, "you will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy." Okay, so the people there aren't villains, I guess, but what they are doing is wrong. It is NOT healthy, and they need to stop. But when I look at them, I can see they are not as disappointed with themselves for being there as I am. The smiles on their faces tell me otherwise. And that adds to how bad I feel. It is just SO wrong.
But I need to let this out, so I am no longer hiding a painful secret, so someone will reach out to me and help. Please don't hate me and DO see this as a cry for help. And here it is:
Last Tuesday, I went and had lunch at The Great Wall Restaurant.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Something's Wrong
by Phyllis
There's something wrong with me. Seriously.
I don't care how to get Michelle Obama's toned arms, I don't need a running commentary on Chris Brown and Rihanna, I am not interested in whatever Jennifer Aniston, Brad Pitt, and Angelina Jolie are or are not doing or saying to each other.
I have never watched "The Bachelor" or "Wife Swap" or "Dancing With the Stars" or really anything of that ilk. I get no pleasure from looking at outfits or reactions from The Oscars. And yet it seems millions of Americans do all these things.
Me? I am quite tired today because I stayed up last night and watched a semi-grainy re-broadcast that started at 11pm of a basketball game played in Las Cruces, New Mexico, of which I already knew the outcome!
There's something wrong with me. Seriously.
I don't care how to get Michelle Obama's toned arms, I don't need a running commentary on Chris Brown and Rihanna, I am not interested in whatever Jennifer Aniston, Brad Pitt, and Angelina Jolie are or are not doing or saying to each other.
I have never watched "The Bachelor" or "Wife Swap" or "Dancing With the Stars" or really anything of that ilk. I get no pleasure from looking at outfits or reactions from The Oscars. And yet it seems millions of Americans do all these things.
Me? I am quite tired today because I stayed up last night and watched a semi-grainy re-broadcast that started at 11pm of a basketball game played in Las Cruces, New Mexico, of which I already knew the outcome!
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