This page is dedicated to assorted ramblings about film. The pieces may or may not actually review the films that they discuss. They are in no way meant to recommend that you see the film, nor am I going to try to steer you away from something that you really want to see. The films I write about are just as likely to be something I saw on television at three in the morning as they are to be new releases. They may offend some, and they may be poorly written; they may even be incomprehensible to those of you that don’t know me, personally. I may indeed give away surprise endings and, if pressed to do so, I may write about a film that I haven’t seen. That being said, shall we proceed?

After all, there is part of the room taken up by racing equipment. My toiletry “thing” takes up much of the closet, which results in shoes being double and triple stacked. Sporting equipment? Top shelf of the closet. I even added a mini Christmas tree to at least add some “festive-ness” to the daily existence.

I read the above, and have to laugh at myself. I complain, but then I see Bubbsy (as I have affectionately named him). Bubbsy has been here seemingly as long as I have. He is a big boy, north of the 300lb threshold that requires you to purchase more than one airplane seat. But, multiple times per day, I see him outside, with his weimaraner on a leash and a little tote. Open the tote, and out comes two more dogs, of the dachsund size proportion. I watch him load the dogs in the car, with no more room in his vehicle due to his stuff. It is a pretty nice, new SUV, so I don’t think he is really struggling financially, but I cannot imagine what his room smells like or how claustrophobic it must be.

That being said, I think I would gladly trade to be next to him instead and have some resident dog stink. I can not stand having every possession of mine smelling like an Indian grocery store. I got new towels last week. I leave for the weekend, come back on Monday, grab a new towel, and suddenly after my shower I feel like basmati rice.

I have lamented previously about the distance required to traverse to pitch the garbage on my hotel floor. Instead of hiking that, many of my neighbours have taken to just leaving it in the hallway. That would be fine if the maid always takes it! Anyway, a few weeks back, I saw Bubbsy’s equally girthy brother from another mother bringing his groceries up to his room – on one of the luggage carts. Naturally, such laziness means that he would leave his garbage in the hallway. I walked by a few days later, noticed what was discarded in it (clear bag), and had to go grab my notepad. The contents, you ask?

French onion dip
Chips Ahoy
Bud Light
Diet Dr. Pepper
Pizza box
Can of creamed corn
Pringles
Grapes (uneaten)

So, next time you feel slovenly, you can think of this upstanding member of the local Cardiac Club. And no, that will not stop me from heading off to lunch.

Eagerly awaiting his cholesterol results,
-Michael

Posted via email from Derek’s Posterous

Posted via email from Derek’s Posterous

Maria McKee – When You Were Mine

I really had no idea what to expect. 24 hours in a go-kart split between 6 people? How bad could it be? I have done over an hour straight before in 2 hour races; this just prolongs the agony a tad. I did a crash course in strengthening my core and improving my diet, but that was really it. It was off on a crazy adventure.

Day 1 – Drive from Michigan to Charlotte.
Day 2 – Practise essentially all day.
“Day 3″ – Get to track way too frickin’ early and race
“Day 4″ – Do not leave track through night, and stay till awards ceremony. Then drive all the way back to Michigan.
Day 1-4 – Whine. A lot. Oh, and make running jokes that get more and more complex as the weekend progresses.

The TV coverage always alludes to the strange things that go on during the night as delerium gets closer and closer. Let the record show that I made it through the 24 on 2 hours of sleep, after getting 6 the night before. Here are some actual things that occurred, in no particular order, paying homage to Jeff Foxworthy with a trite play on his money-making routine.

- You might be participating in an endurance race if you find yourself popping aspirin like chiclets, completely unable to figure out how many aspirin you can take in a 24 hour period because you cannot figure out really when the 24 hour period started.
- You might be participating in an endurance race if you end up in a ghetto supermarket trying to purchase bananas, powerbars, granola bars, and those mythical “half-pretzel, half-Ritz cracker” things that are just good as all get out and are gone way before the others. Oh yeah, this supermarket will be across from a strip mall that has “Pimp Yo Ride” car audio and “Mo’ Money” tax service. This will also be up the road from the strip mall that has a chicken/ribs BBQ place next to a barber shop.
- You might be participating in an endurance race if you later in the race end up in a ghetto convenience store/Subway, where the alchoholic in cuffs on the ground in front of the store shouting racist expletives at the patrons will neither deter you nor make you flinch as you enter the store because you are on a mission to find sustenance.
- You might be participating in an endurance race if you find yourself combing through the bags of food unable to find a bad combination of foodstuffs. “You know, I did just have that Atomic Fireball, but I really could go for some trail mix.”
- You might be participating in an endurance race if you find yourself unable to form a cogent sentence and end up finishing 3 out of every 4 sentences with “never mind.”
- You might be participating in an endurance race if you find yourself having bizarre arguments with your subconscious. You know the kind, like “I have to drive in 10 minutes, but I kind of have to pee. Maybe if I hold it, the pressure of my bladder will distract me from the fact that my neck is killing me.”
- You might be participating in an endurance race if the one muscle group you are not worried about before the race is the one that fails you. To that point, did you know you can basically race with your head completely laying on your shoulder?
- You might be participating in an endurance race if you find yourself brushing your teeth in the middle of the night but being unable to decide if it is the before bed or waking up cleaning. You might also find yourself justifying that 3 in the morning is a good time to take your morning medicine because, hell, you aren’t going to bed anyway so it is practically morning.
- You might be participating in an endurance race if you find yourself looking at the clock. Often. Like every 10 minutes often.
- You might be participating in an endurance race if you find new and creative uses for duct tape that seem to take forever to implement. At one point I had duct tape holding the velcro shut on my suit, around my hand to try and prevent more movement from exacerbating blisters, attaching some gonorp to my neck brace to provide an artificial headrest, and I am sure I am forgetting others.
- You might be participating in an endurance race if all you want to do is sleep, but doing so is the seemingly worst thing you can do. I finally fell asleep, woke up to my alarm after some completely deranged dream but couldn’t stand up because my body was so sore and I had to push off on hands that were blister riddled. I was in more pain after.
- You might be participating in an endurance race if you vow never to do it again but 30 minutes later are already thinking about next year.

Still looking for cogent thoughts,
-Michael

Sadly though, that is one of my beefs. I complained about those stupid stickers that families put on their minivan that, in stick figures, diagrams what comprises the family itself. They are getting more and more prevalent – as people copy one another. They are for the most part similar, although some are a spin on the theme (using flip flops when near the beach). And I did enjoy seeing one this week where the dad was missing (almost as good as the beheaded family one).

But the same is true of those stupid white oval stickers with a black border and text. They have them for everything now. Ok, you went to Hilton Head Island. Oh wow, you ran a half marathon or a triathlon you narcisisstic overachiever. Ok, your kid goes to Arrogant Prick Institute. Do we really need one for every school now?

Speaking of school related stickers, is it really a requirement to have a sticker showing your kid’s jersey number and what sport he/she plays? Just because everyone else does it doesn’t mean you have to be uncreative and follow it. The only thing it does is illustrate how uncreative you were when you named your child, because we see what completely asinine spelling you added to a normal name.

Continuing the segue roll with a children topic, I saw the strangest billboard the other day. It said “Abortion – 40 million that will not be paying into social security.” I pondered that for quite some time and still am not confident I get it. I mean, do not get me wrong, I get pretty frothed up at the fact that I am contributing to SS but will never get a cent out of it. But that does not mean I am going to let it change my stand on abortion. “Yeah, you know Clem, I was ok with going down to the PP clinic until I realised that my monthly check in 30 years was going to be fractionally smaller. I mean after all, the difference in my check will assuredly cover 18 years worth of expenses for a child.” Is that really the most cogent argument that they could come up with for not having an abortion?

Finally, while we are on the subject of death, I want to complain about the further coddling of our youth. When I was a kid, come spring, they would put out the “don’t drink and drive” car. It was a car that had supposedly been involved in a drunk driving accident, and these bastards were mangled! I used to spend 30 minutes every year analysing the car, trying to figure out what happened, how it got hit, if the person lived, etc. I remember the year that the rear impact was so violent that the rear seat was pressed against the back of the front seat. I remember the year that that the A pillar on the passenger side was almost touching the driver’s seat. And I cannot forget the years that the blood was still in the car, including on the windshield one year. THAT was a deterrent. The car I saw this year was a joke. The fender was barely crinkled, and the bumper had basically been ripped off. I don’t even know if it was fast enough for the airbag
to deploy. The only thing it made me want to do was get in an accident like that! It looked like something we would have done locking wheels on our way back to the apartment in college. The net of it was that it was too pansified for me to waste time to stop and look at. Just like I won’t have time to stop for the pansified youth of today when they need a binkie in the workplace in 15 years…

Still ornery after all these years,
-Michael

I recently changed hotels just to get to a new “area.” Plus, I hated that place (subject for another blog). I had gotten stagnant, going to the same three or four restaurants. Well, what happened, but I moved and found new places to frequent. Despite my stuffy nose, the beautiful weather inspired me to find somewhere new tonight. I made a beeline for a place I have been passing every day. It looked like a western saloon and had me fawning over a gargantuan piece of cow. Instead I show up and find out it is a taco place! I went it to look at the menu and it was even more pretentious than I anticipated. Tapas? Really? So I drove around some more. And then some more. I ended up back at the same place I have been eating at every day seemingly. There I got to have a non-stop runny nose, have people sit on both sides of me at the bar to smoke, and naturally proceed to stain my shirt.

So, I did the only natural thing after. I grabbed a Klondike bar and returned to my hotel room.

-Michael