We Saw Shows

I spent some hours pounding out and refining proposals for the super-heroine contest. I now have five really good stories, and I'll spend the next week refining them further. I don't think I'll get a full ten complete, but I'd rather not dilute my submissions for the sake of numbers. Your Sister is pushing me to apply for the creative director job, but I don't have the necessary experience. They want seven years of book publishing, a very different creature from magazines and newspapers.

A daylong snow shower didn't postpone the Saturday production of Top Secret, a reading theatre play about the Washington Post fighting the Nixon Administration to publish the Pentagon Papers on Vietnam. This is the show featuring Your Sister's crush guy, but it also gave us a pack of Those Guys, supporting actors you see constantly without knowing their names. It was a good show, and it flew by within ten hours. Your Sis sneaked over to Mast general to buy me a sack of Krackle. We spent Sunday watching quality football.

I had Monday off, and I managed to see Cloverfield, the NY monster movie shot like Blair Witch. It's good. It's not much more than an experiment of style, but it succeeds in being both harrowing and cool. Maybe a bit better than The Mist. Including those two films and 28 Weeks Later, I've had good luck with horror movies lately. Once again, I shared a theatre with an idiot who brought along a child too young for this kind of film, and naturally the kid freaked. I don't blame him one bit, but that father should be strung up.

Picture of the Day
A new picture of Mercury



In the News
The Democrat campaign ads are breeding like rabbits as the local weekend primary approaches. Edwards has no chance. None. The Huckabee campaign has ended the press transportation to cover its events, and the Florida events have been scaled back. Giuliani, who is banking on his first win there, is still an underdog to Romney. Thompson may pull out of the running as early as today.

Snow Day

We got hammered by snow Thursday, shocking everyone because the weathermen got it completely right. They said the snow would start about 7 pm Wednesday night, and by 8:30, our deck was completely white. We both had Thursday off, and we moseyed about town. There was one restaurant open -- one -- and we had Hawaiian pizza, the traditional winter feast of tis modest hamlet.

I called work this morning and discovered Asheville got virtually nothing compared to us, and yes the office was open. I shoveled the driveway in record time (wrenching it into utter agony, I must admit; I'm getting old) and drove in. We're expecting more snow tonight, threatening tomorrow's play starring Your Sister's high-school celebrity crush.

I had two opportunities drop in my lap.

1. A writing contest for a new creator-owned super heroine. A large publisher wants to start a new series with a brand-new character, and they're taking brief descriptions from applicants. Then voters will determine whose proposal becomes a comic. It's comics version of American Idol. I have plenty of these characters ready to package this way, and I'm giving myself a ten-proposal quote to fill.

2. A local book publisher needs a creative director, and the job sounds right up my alley. Unfortunately, it's also in Asheville, so unless it pays much more than the current job, it does me no good to apply. The commute would still be a problem.

I'll keep you informed.

Moving Picture of the Day
Your Sister says hi.

In the News
The GOP primary in South Carolina is tomorrow, and Huckabee is courting the locals by equating homosexuality with bestiality and supporting the state's right to fly the Confederate flag.

Watching American Idol

As Your Sister's semester winds down, a few students and teachers are letting the pressure get to them. One kid still owes her the final pages of his research papers after pretending he didn't know how to send an email attachment. Another has her mom ask Your Sis what could be done to help her grades, but she asked on the last day of classes. A teacher decided she wasn't going to help in pre-exam remediation despite the standing order from Your Sis.

American Idol started its seventh season last night, and I asked her if she wanted to try it. Maybe give her some conversational ammo for the students. The auditions are my favorite part. I appreciate the quick movement from applicant to applicant, and I enjoy the assurance that there are people who sing worse than I. In contrast, the second half of the show is a parade of whining and griping, both from the contestants and judges. The first part of the season is a game show; the second is a reality show.

We saw the usual stream of variety. Some incredibly, unfairly talented people were also gorgeous. These people are the next evolutionary advances ,and we poor Morlocks can only scheme to steal their fire. Some people were clearly seeking TV time: One guy dressed in the Slave Leia outfit and was allowed to come back after he promised to wax his chest hair. He did. Sang about three notes before getting yanked.

But the ending was a singular oddity. There were two girls left: a brunette and a blonde. The brunette went first. She dressed up in her costume from the Los Angeles Star Wars Convention -- Star Wars belt buckle, clip-on hair rolls, tight black dress, silver platform shoes. In her pre-singing interviews, she bragged she wasn't wearing make-up, made a Star Trek insult, and impersonated Chewbacca. She galloped into the audition and made nervous conversation (I can't imagine how anxious that scenario must be for the borderline talented). Then she sang. And she wasn't bad. A little soft, maybe (again, nerves), but she had a nice, even sound. The problem was that she was jittery and socially awkward. She was a nerd.

And when she lost, she went off to the cameras. Complained that the show only wanted cookie-cutter looks and voices and needed an "oddball" like her. But while she was ranting, the show aired a montage of the previous two hours' winners, and she had a point. I couldn't tell if the show was trying to prove her wrong with the majority of petite women and their blinding white smiles or if we were supposed to nod in silent agreement, that yes, it's unfair that society wants pretty things to stare at for six months at a time.

Ultimately, her adamant goofiness was her poison pill. She set those judges up to see her as an insincere applicant, and she dared them to give her a pass. Anyone who's seen the show -- anyone who knows of the show -- is aware that applicants are prepared to be pop stars. And even pseudo-punk pop girls wear makeup. Presentation is crucial to your audition. Her outfit was a protest to the show's bread-and-butter. She was borderline, and if she had slipped off her high horse and met them halfway, she might be in Hollywood right now instead of becoming another failed contestant bitching on camera into her cell phone.

She wasn't as offensively stupid as the veterinarian student rocker who went apeshit against Simon despite what might have be the most pleasant rejection from all three judges. Clearly, when she got on camera to curse him out, she had a prepared speech. Unfortunately, she scrambled it and came across as a loon.

Oh, and the thin blonde after the Star wars girl was approved after offering a weaker audition. She won on personality.

I don't know if we'll watch again. It's entirely Your Sister's call. I'd be curious to watch more.

Picture of the Day
The latest picture from this year's Indiana Jones film.


In The News
Even though Romney took Michigan, the GOP is only accepting half the delegates as punishment for the early primary. He may have taken the state, but he doesn't get the full benefits.

South Carolina comes an even bigger primary now that Romney, Huckabee, and McCain have all won at least one state. All three, Thompson, and Paul are running ads here. Giuliani is a non-entity, betting on Florida for his first primary win. Obama and Edwards have TV ads, but I don't remember any for Clinton. To be fair, we don't watch much of the local affiliates. American Idol and Terminator are both on FOX, and only football and Lost make us watch ABC.

The GOP primary in SC is Saturday, and the Democrats' is a week later.

A Short Meeting

The education board held its regular meeting at the local library to recognize the new nationally certified teachers. We knew two of the three. Your Sis also got to stand up as one of the county's 40+ certified educators. There were snacks.

Before we slunk away, one of the board members noted that they would visit school campuses to personally see the items needing repair. He made a point to address all the principals (absent and present) to say he only wanted to see those items and not be subjected to a "dog-and-pony show." I can appreciate a non-nonsense approach. I'm sure these folks have to glad-hand their way through weekly needless and time-consuming formality.

(In fact they instigated some last night. The meeting began with the Pledge of Allegiance. The only flag was the outdoor lighted banner, and no one could see it from our room. We all rose, covered our heart, turned to the nearest door, and pledged allegiance to the buffet bar.) Anyway, this particular board member's delivery suggested a cowboy attitude I'm sure he cribbed from his favorite radio talk-show host. Maybe he was hoping to impress a newspaper reporter.

We watched the second episode of the Terminator series, and Your Sis loves it much more than the weak Bionic Woman reboot they tried in the fall. Penny from Lost (Desmond's girl) is now a supporting character on the series, and I don't know what this will mean for her Lost character.

Picture of the Day
Is this thing on?

Catching Up

Your Sister spent much of the weekend grading papers as the semester ends this week. I used the quiet time to try my first run of 2008, and I'm feeling it a bit two days later. I ran about 2 miles with s small walking break, and it was my best chance to try the new running shirt. It's incredibly tight. Indecent, even. But it helps me stay upright while I run.

The comic script is moving well. I take breaks to step back and see if this is developing into what I want instead of organically blossoming into crud. So far, so good, I think.

The NFL playoffs this weekend brought some surprises, and Your Sister wasn't happy to remember that I picked the two remaining AFC teams (New England, San Diego), the latter beating her Colts yesterday in an upset. This leaves next weekend's games as:

AFC
San Diego vs. New England
San Diego's game yesterday left them beat up, and they might limp to their game against the Patriot machine.

NFC
New York vs. Green Bay
New York has gotten hot at just the right time and have to play in front of the most rabid fanbase in the league.

These will be good games.

Your Sister proposed a double-event Valentine's date: We'll catch a play at her old college in the afternoon and see a wrestling PPV in person that night.

Per her request, we watched the first episode of the new Terminator series last night, and she seemed to like it. She's a big fan of the films.

Picture of the Day
A big shuttle photo.

In the News
I watched some C-SPAN Michigan coverage. McCain isn't offering much but assurances that he'll encourage young people to join the military, and he'll get Bin Laden. He's doddering, and it's a shame that he missed his best chance to win the White House because of dirty politics in South Carolina in 2000. The state's largest paper endorsed him this weekend.

The current Edwards TV ad for South Carlina (his home state) is a weak bit of pandering to the blue collars. I haven't seen an Obama ad since Christmas.

Rumors say Giuliani has stopped paying his campaign staff. He has no presence in South Carolina.

The talk-show hosts are clearly backing Thompson and were giddy over his performance in the Thursday debate. He's running on a heavy immigration platform, and that's essentially it. He's now bickering with Huckabee to make headlines.

Going to a Show

Maybe, like a lot of high school kids, you watched a TV miniseries of The Scarlet Letter. It was produced by the Boston PBS station back in 1979, and many English teachers rely on it to help kids dig the Hawthorne book. I saw it in 10th grade. Your Sister saw it around the same time and fell madly in filthy, pagan lust with the guy playing the preacher.

Well, guess who's coming to Asheville in a touring play? When I heard the radio ad for the show Wednesday morning, I left her a message asking if she wanted tickets. Five hours later, through spooky willpower, I heard her reply even before my phone rang. We're going next weekend. I may be asked to walk around the theatre so she can be alone with him. And the other 300 audience members, of course. She's fully aware that he'll be thirty years older now. Don't think it matters.

Picture of the Day
Timing.




In the News
New Mexico Governor Bill Richardson is allegedly leaving the campaign later today. This is surprising; he said earlier this week that he had high hopes for winning western primaries. I thought he'd stick around a while to bolster his case for a cabinet position. Presumably, he simply doesn't have the money to continue. Three states have issued delegates: Iowa, Wyoming (GOP only), and New Hampshire. In five contests, there have been five different winners. Richardson can be seen as a solid second-place candidate. But I suspect his Hispanic heritage works against him. Too many yokels will fret he'll be kind to illegals.

Romney expects/hopes/needs to win Michigan next Tuesday because his dad was governor there. The Democrats are boycotting the state because the local party chiefs broke ranks to move the primary up the calendar. FOX is hosting a GOP debate tonight. It's seen as a last-gasp measure for Thompson and Guilani, who is gambling on winning the Florida primary later this month to jumpstart his campaign.

NY Mayor Bloomberg is still rumored to debate a presidential bid, but he has to hop in quick to get onto ballots of states for next month's multiple-primary Tuesday or he'll dig himself a delegate hole.

+ + +

Radiohead's In Rainbows was last week's best-selling CD even though the entire album was released digitally a few months back. I bought my copy after downloading the album without paying. The CD only sold 120,000 copies, but still came out on top.

Watching New Hampshire

After watching the Monday Daily Show and Colbert Report, we expected to call it a night until I flipped to CNN to check on the primaries. Then we watched it for about two hours.

Obviously, the Democrat vote turnout was huge. But the discrepancy between party votes and placement is stunning. Check these out:

1. Clinton beat McCain by almost 30,000 votes.
2. McCain got almost 20,000 fewer votes than Obama, the second-place Democrat.
3. Edwards, the third-place Democrat, beat Huckabee, the third-place Republican, by almost twice as many votes.
4. Fred Thompson, the drafted candidate meant to save the party from mediocrity, not only came in seventh (and two spots behind write-ins), but he had 1,000 votes fewer than Kucinich, a marginal Democrat candidate.

I found the honeymoon photos you left at Your Parents'. I think Sausage Kitty ate the other cat.

Picture of the Day
Vampire Kermit.

Let's Hear It For Drugs

I applied the synthetic tears (milked from the ducts of android children forced to watch Iron Giant for hours on end) throughout the day, and, while the eye felt better, the real test was how my eye would behave overnight. I have no idea about this because I popped OxyCotin before going to bed and slept like a mummy/log/driveway. I only use the stash if I have some torturous sleep deprivation, but I can certainly see the appeal of continued use. I feel fantastic. But I did dream about going deaf, like Limbaugh actually did during his Oxy days.

I decided not to audition for the Schoolhouse Rock musical after reading the audition requirements and realizing I didn't know what the musical terms meant. My pie-in-the-sky notion of waltzing in for my first musical and winning a singing role can't stand firm against my sheer ignorance of the lingo. The weekday matinees might not have gone over well with work either. Still, yeah, I would like to have tried it. There is the Mayberry theatre offer still standing, but I'd like to read the script and see the performance space before signing on to that show. I'm also making real progress on my comic script.

Your Parents' house is also still standing. The larger cat devoured the food before the other one could emerge from the shadows. The bathroom sink pipes have lit light bulbs over them to keep them from freezing. While I was given no note about them, I'm tempted to turn them off during this freakish warm spell.

Picture of the Day
Fire up the grannies.

Eye eye eye.

We took advantage of freakishly warm weather to work in the yard Saturday. She pruned while I went under the house for the first time. I expected to find a slim crawlspace leading to a bog, but found a manageable area that was bone dry. So our house foundation is secure. The previous owners wrapped the pipes in a plastic tubing I had never even heard of before, but it looks very sturdy. I also used my lawnmower to slice and bag the yard leaves. It worked great, proving again the boon of technology to those of us with mysteriously achy backs.

Unfortunately, a chunk of yard drifted inside my eyelids, laid eggs and died, and those eggs hatched, unleashing their young around 5 in the morning. I thought I had cleared out my eye, but the same problem developed this morning around 3. I went to the eye doctor this morning, and he found nothing, saying the foliage had left me eyes, but the scratched cornea is achy. he gave me synthetic tears to help my eyes heal. This happened to me in my childhood too. I mowed a neighbor's yard and spent the entirety of Back to the Future (in the theatre, so this was like 1935) dabbing my eye before I was taken to the emergency room. If I have trouble sleeping tonight from the lingering pain, I'm digging into my wisdom tooth medicine which I could have sold at the high school for a eleventy thousand dollars.

We named the Matrix this weekend. I had noodled with references to its football shape, and then I realized the paint is the same shade of silver as the New England Patriots helmets and out sprang "Brady." Your Sis approved. It only took us eight months.

We hosted Kathy and Travis last night for a pizza dinner, and we caught up on holiday events. Hard to believe it's only been a week since Tim and Orange Peel and the Krewe.

Picture of the Day
Madness.




News of the Day
Between playoff football games, I watched a lot of C-Span's coverage of New Hampshire.
a) Obama looks as confident and solid as a front-runner can.
b) Hillary's new tactic of accusing Obama of being hollow looks like she herself has no substance to hawk.
c) Bill Clinton spoke without notes, answering questions for an hour and utterly eclipsing every current candidate. The man is a machine.
d) Obama's wife spoke mostly to youngsters, and she has a casual air away from the podium.
e) Huckabee talks a good game. Too bad he denies evolution.
f) Rudy looks tired. I say he drops out within a month.

The Day After

The office ordered a new Adobe software package the week before Christmas vacation. FedEx delivered it two days later to the wrong address. We realized this yesterday, and I spent hours trying to figure out where it went and if it can be retrieved. FedEx sent it to a similar address: the Sears down the road.

Sears signed for it and apparently never looked at the recipient address when they realized it wasn't theirs. This happened three years back, and we lost an entire shipment of magazines. Neither Sears nor FedEx would recoup our loss. I called FedEx's national claims line (there are no local or regional numbers) and received apologies and assurances.

I called Sears and was told the package is not to be found, probably wasn't thrown away, but there is no idea when it will emerge. In other words, they threw it away. Just like our magazines. Adobe sent us another bundle when I called them, but as they are sending it through FedEx again, the same scenario might unfold. Also, Adobe uses India operators for order-service calls, and the folks I talked to understand me about as well as Your Mom.

Four hours to clean up this mess, and it might all happen again.

Your Sis and I are giddy that it's Friday already. We have a wide-open weekend that hopefully will include a movie and fresh doughnuts. I broke in the new Starbucks near the office for my new favorite: caramel apple spice. I think it's just apple juice and hot milk, but it tastes good and is half the price of my usual frappuccinos.

Picture of the Day
Spruce up your freighter with nifty noodle slurpers.



The "Wow, How Long Has It Been" News of the Day
We watched caucus coverage on C-Span last night. The Dems and Repubs had distinct methods. The Dems would gather in small circles for their choices and count the number of people in that meeting space. Any candidate with less than 15 percent representation would be disqualified, and his voters would have to join one of the larger groups. Those in the room would have 30 minutes to make their sales pitches to those choosing again. The GOP simply wrote one name on slips of paper and counted up the totals.

I, the independent, preferred the GOP method. Your Sis, the registered Republican, likes the Democrat method. And we talked about that for a while.

In the end, we got Obama, Edwards, Hillary, and Richardson for the Dems, and Huckabee, Romney, Thompson, and McCain for the GOP.

Edwards was the surprise winner for the left. Hillary represents the Clinton/Bush 20-year dynasty, and folks want a fresh face.

Huckabee got lots of religious support, which might help in South Carolina. Paul and Giuliani came in behind McCain, who ignored Iowa for New Hampshire.

It's still incredibly early to divvy up the national ballots and only those who came in fourth or worse should panic.

Spider Music

Because the snow delay kept me at home Wednesday, I was able to get in more Guitar Hero and unlock two encore songs: Sabbath's War Pigs and Guns N Roses's Sweet Child of Mine. And oh did my fingers cry for mercy.

We attended a surprise birthday party that night for a former student of Your Sister. Requests were made for dance CDs, and I chose to make her a mix CD of teen-girl dance songs. Some mash-ups, some stuff parents wouldn't like, but I didn't think they'd listen to the music much anyway. When we arrived, we heard the Disney soundtrack playing and saw the Disney-themed cake. This was a party for a younger mindset than I expected and I debated throwing away the CD. I did give it to her but warned her to play it when the old people go to sleep.

Picture of Chaos of the Day



Joe Quesada, the editor-in-chief of Marvel Comics, took over about eight years ago. He was a writer/artist who inherited the mantle during a massive editorial shakeup. His trench work prior to becoming the big cheese helped him draft big names to long-dormant comics, and sales shot up. A lot of good ideas came out of the new administration, and Marvel movies took off during this period.

But one idea that Quesada hated is a Spider-Man married to Mary Jane. This happened about 15 years ago to help stagnant sales. Quesada claimed younger readers couldn't relate to a married Spidey. Spidey evolved quite a bit in the last ten years. He developed organic webs (replacing the original mechanical web-shooters), Aunt May and MJ found out Peter was Spidey, his powers became magical in nature (kinda like the midichlorians in the first SW prequel), and, just last year, he went public with his identity.

Quesada decided that, of all these changes, the marriage had to be removed, but he didn't want to taint the character with a divorce. So here's what they did: Aunt May is again on her deathbed and MJ/Peter can't afford the bills. From nowhere appears Mephisto, Marvel's devil, and he makes Spidey a deal. May will be saved but Peter loses his relationship to MJ. In an issue that was just published, Peter and MJ agree, and Peter wakes up with no memory of the deal and finds himself with mechanical shooters and his long-dead pal Harry Osborn back as his roommate. Also his ID is secret again, removing the biggest moment of the 2007 comics. And oh how the shit has flown.

Here's how many people like the idea: Quesada.
Here's who hates the idea: Everyone else.

Even the writer of the comic wanted his name removed because Quesada altered his scripts. The fanbase is up in sweaty, virgin arms over it. Marvel, after promising there would be no magic reboot button to fix the marriage or the public identity, used just such a conceit. It also invalidated a decade of comic stories. This isn't the first time Marvel has done this with Spidey. About ten years ago, the company revealed that Peter had been a clone since the mid-'70s, and the real Peter was living under a different name. Catastrophe. Sales plummeted.

Marvel is following up the event with a brand new fleet of Spidey creators and has to hope the same sales disaster won't happen. But I don't see how they plan to keep loyal readers who are now jerked around again. I dropped the comic about three years back, but this change does nothing to bring me back as a consumer. Marvel presumes that consumers and readers are separate audiences and that the monthly customers won't alter their shopping no matter what happens in the regular titles. Maybe not. I know people who inexplicably buy comics they don't enjoy just to be completists. Not me. I don't have that kinda money. Well, I do, but I also have a wife and house.

Maybe I'm not the kind of reader Marvel considers in its equations, but as a longtime fan, I can't respect a Spider-Man who makes a deal with the devil. That's a stupid Spidey, no matter what benefit he thinks he'll earn. And I don't see why young readers would relate to a stupid bachelor Spidey more than a happily married one.

Sick Again

The cold sandbagged me, and another medicated night was spent in the guest room. I'll be sure to clean it up before you visit, don't worry. I'll hose down the bed. On the good side, I was given Friday off, and I've spent the day so far eating oranges for the vitamins and drinking coffee to dehydrate myself. I think we'll have soup and bread tonight (Your Sis calls it "prison food") to bolster my revolted tummy. I'm taking long soaks with magazines and novels to warm myself up.

I finished My Mom's CD and wrapped it for the tree. Except for you, I think we're done giftifying.

You'll be in town starting tomorrow night, and we'll try to make the vacation as spoiled as possible. And I'll be healthy by the time you arrive at the house.

Picture of the Day
We've got the tree lit for you.

Dog Gone

The writers' strike hasn't hit our TV routine much. The benefit is that we can catch up on shows like House missed during my play rehearsals. But what we watch so often -- Jeopardy, This Old House, Survivorman, football -- don't employ those kinds of writers. "Pro wrestling" and "unions" are rarely uttered in the same breath so those scripts aren't affected by the walkout.

There was an odd thing on the Survivorman we watched last night. Les Stroud is a Canadian outdoorsman who drops himself in remote locations to live off the land for a week. He carries cameras and a few supplies to challenge himself. This recent show had him dog sled through Labrador, in the Arctic Circle. On the second half of the trip, he decides he needs to make the odds worse, and he jumps off the sled and watches the dogs vanish behind the horizon. He then spends the night outside in snow trench. He makes a point to say the dogs will follow the trails back to the rescue camp, about 100 miles away. But the next day, the rescue crew extracts him because the weather is turning the reliable lake ice into sludge. They all helicopter out. But there is no mention of the dogs. We had no idea if they returned or survived in the melting ice.

A quick check of the official Survivorman message boards shows that the dog's owners knew Stroud would separate from the dogs, and they in fact did make it back to camp. No word, however, on how long it took them to make it. I'd wager it was more than two days, and those dogs had no food. That's harsh. Cruel, even. I can watch the show to see Stroud risk his fool neck but not to take a chance with a pack of work dogs. Then again, I know squat about sled dogs. I was unhappy with Stroud neglecting to make overnight shelters for the dogs similar to the ones he made for himself.

My university plays Boise State in Hawaii Sunday night for the first weekend of bowl games. I don't see my guys doing well. I say they lose by 21 points. Your Sis will join me in Asheville tomorrow for what is supposed to be a shot day at our office.

I'm fending off another goddamn cold.

Picture of the Day
I could do Subway for lunch.

Days of Wine and Scorches

I found out, just yesterday, that I in fact do get to play more fantasy football. I apparently had a bye week before what's called the consolation round where the low-end teams fight it out for third place. If my team wins this week, I get to play next week. The rosters are now locked, however, so I can only play the team I fielded last. The projections say I'll lose, but at least it's another week of intense stat watching. And God help the Miami Dolphins.

We indeed hosted the teacher buddy, and I indeed set off the smoke alarm with the grilled chicken. She used to work in newspapers, and we swapped war stories. We talked and talk and talked and killed a bottle of wine. It made for a late evening and a dramatic crash into the bed. Earlier in the day, the office went out for a Thai lunch.

I'm technically done for Christmas shopping, except we'll have to buy you something when you visit. Something that catches your eye while we're out and about. Something to celebrate the end of exams. Or we can just throw open the liquor cabinet and play video games all night.

Picture of the Day
Red glass octopus. Just 'cause.

No Coffee

A new Ingles opened right near the office, and I walked down to meet the Starbucks staff, with whom I'm sure I'll become familiar quickly. But the stand isn't open yet. The sign says it won't open 'til almost New Years. It's odd. The pharmacy is open, the bakery is open. And yet I am deprived of my crackuccino. For this, worlds shall pay.

My Mom asked for a Christmas mix CD for a present, and I have about 12 songs at the ready. Half the disc is from either our Dean Martin of Charlie Brown Christmas discs.

We're hosting a teacher buddy for dinner tonight, and I hope to make chicken alfredo without setting off the smoke alarm. Again.

I'm waiting for Your Sis to ask Your Parents when they want to come over for Christmas dinner. Then I can tell My Parents when to show up.

Moving Picture of the Day
Here's the official trailer for the Batman sequel, and wow is it geek nirvana. Heath Ledger is unrecognizable, and Brokeback Mountain proved he can act his ass off. Too bad we have six months to wait for this.

Sometimes Invisible

Often, when the two of us are out and about in our hamlet, a student will walk up to Your Sis to talk about school. And I'll step back a bit to let them chat. Also often, the conversation will end with "see you laters," and there will be no acknowledgment that I'm there. No introductions, not even a glance my way. I become Ghost Husband. It's a horrible feeling.

We dug into research papers, and the grading was scattered throughout the weekend. The threat of the possibility of snow sent us to the grocery store. We got no white stuff, however. We went to a surprise birthday party Saturday night and ate potato soup and cake.

We went to a sports bar Sunday to watch the New England game, and I discovered the bliss of six live football games available on five TVs. It was a divine visitation of pigskin and snow. And we ate like pigs. We then rented and watched the third Pirates of the Caribbean film (finally), and it was an exhausting experience. I liked it, but I'm glad we saw this on our smallish TV to constrain it to an acceptable dosage.

To reward ourselves for grading papers, we decided that Sunday dinner would be red velvet cake. And so it came to pass.

It's A Wonderful Life airs Christmas eve at 8 p.m. on NBC, and I've set the TiFaux to record it.

Picture of the Day
"I don't believe it."
"That is why you fail."

Christmas Cheer

Because of some transaction loophole (either from the car dealership or the registration process), a third-party telemarketing group found out that we bought a new car. Beginning within the month we bought the car, we've been inundated by recorded telemarketing calls warning us that we have to act fast to extend or renew our car's warranty. It's crap. The real warranty lasts two years or 120,000 miles.

The calls tend to come when we're at work, suggesting the company thinks we're still the original retired homeowners. Not unusual. We get a lot of daytime calls that target an older demographic -- health insurance, gutter guards, home security, etc. The message doesn't identify us by name or the make/model of the car. It's as generic as possible, hoping to reel in some confused older person with ready access to their hopefully packed bank account.

But tonight, we got the call while we were gobbling dinner (homemade pizza). I answered, and the call instructed me to stay on the line so I can reactivate my warranty. I didn't hang up, and a voice asked for the make and model of my car. Here's how it went:

Him (bored and mumbling): Make and model of the car?
Me: I don't think you're connected with the company that sold us the car. Who is this?
Him: Are you [my first and last name]?
Me: Yes. And if you're connected to my warranty, tell me the make and model.
Him: Sir, we --
Me: What's the make and model?
Him: [pause] Alright, buddy ...
Me: No, buddy. Tell me the make and model.
Him: Go to hell, alright.
Me: You go to hell too, pal. This is a scam.

And I hung up. I really hope they call back.

Your Sis is sometimes surprised by how rude I can be to telemarketers, but I'm not by default. I know folks who did this for a living. It's a shit job, and folks gotta eat. I've even done the job myself, making fundraising cold calls for my first college. When the callers make the sales pitch, I say by habit "no, thank you, I'm happy with the [product] I already have. Good bye." If they realize the pitch is over, they usually thank me, skip to the script section of the company's phone number, and we exchange good byes.

But sometimes there are the folks who refuse to acknowledge the denial and assume that my courtesy means I'm a customer who wants to be wooed. When they continue the pitch by interrupting my farewell, then, yes, they are free game, and I give them hell. Doesn't matter how much pressure they're under to sell the merchandise. A smart salesperson knows when it's not happening and moves on to the next number.

And let's be honest here: If I have a bad day at work, and I can't tune into Your Sister's wavelength, an unwelcome sales call is a great outlet for frustration. But I normally, usually, mostly don't look for someone to kick just 'cause they have a shit job.

The scrapbook is 90% done. A few more printed pages, and I can wrap it up.

Picture of the Day
A new image from next year's Where the Wild Things Are film.

Grading the Burritos

This semester's senior projects were yesterday, and Your Sis was among the teachers watching and grading. The scores had to be tallied, and a small group of teachers went to the local Mexican restaurant to eat and add. I helped out. Beforehand, I tightened up the pages for the scrapbook, and I should definitely have this done by the weekend and under the tree by Sunday.

I had to take the car in today for it's required 15,000-mile tune-up, and Your Sis is dismayed that I drove that many commuting miles since April. But it's not so bad. I mean, I'm driving a new car. I'm no longer fretting that my engine will fall out near the airport.

My Secret Santa sent me a fantastic comic series called Scott Pilgrim. It's definitely influenced by Japanese romance manga, but it also brings in rock bands and video games. I throughly enjoyed it. I hope I don't steal from it too blatantly for my own material.

Picture of the Day
Hulk sketches.

The Project

OK, here's what I'm working on for Your Sister. (I'm pretty sure she never read the blog, and if she does, well, babe, you just skunked your Christmas.)

I'm making her a scrapbook of the Washington trip.

I've never scrapbooked before, but I happen to know someone who's made a career of making and selling scrapbook supplies for more than ten years. We went to high school together and even worked together at the daily newspaper back home before she turned to this. She and my first wife were tight and shared scrapbooking as a hobby for a time.

Now I know that this can get expensive quick; the variety of props is staggering, and that's before you look at papers and stickers and the albums themselves. I wanted to do this proper but without blowing a chunk of change for something that looks like it was made by a blind Boy Scout. Luckily, scrapbooking has turned digital where the entire page can be assembled with software and then printed as one sheet. And that becomes my territory: page design.

I have the photos and found a great album, and I've spent a few weeks recreating the timeline and playing with layouts. I wanted to pay matte paper for a decent printing, but what I bought yesterday is so thick, it won't even roll through my printer. It's a useless pack of cardstock. Luckily I have some photo paper left. It'll be about 34 pages as it stands now. I think she'll like it.

My fantasy win wasn't enough to get me in the playoffs, and my season is effectively over. I can still coach for three more weeks, but I can't advance to the fantasy championship. I still want a winning record.

The NFL Contest
HER PICKS
NFC: New Orleans (6-7), St. Louis (3-10)
AFC: Indianapolis (11-2), New England (13-0)

MY PICKS
NFC: New Orleans (6-7), Carolina (5-8)
AFC: New England (13-0), San Diego (8-5)

It is no truly possible for New England to win every game as they have two easy games coming up. New Orleans, Carolina, and St. Louis are examples of how weak their conference is.

Picture of the Day
Here's an example of a spread.

Trimming the Tree and the Comatose Wife

IYour Sister, sick once again, slept virtually all weekend. We put up the tree Saturday night, and we placed some wrapped gifts underneath it Sunday. I hope to have her Secret Project Gift finished by this week. There are so many sudden invites to Christmas parties that we have to choose which ones to attend. I've never had this dilemma before. I should also mention that she's killing me at the Have a Holly Jolly Christmas tree-spotting game, but mostly because I don't know the lyrics to the song.

I stayed up Saturday night to watch a three-hour UFC show. I've become addicted to mixed martial arts in the last few months. I was a boxing addict in my younger days. I watched the last days of Ali and the glory days of Sugar Ray Leonard and Marvelous Marvin Hagler and Hector Macho Comacho, Bowe, Holyfield, and the ascension and disgrace of Tyson. I loved boxing back when it was decent. UFC has easily surpassed it, and I love a well-executed submission win.

Tom Brady remembered that I rely on him for my fantasy team and helped me to a win this week, bringing me up to 7-7 for the year.

Picture of the Day
I forgot to post the finished Spidey image. I'm drawing again, and I'll post more sketches during the week.