Friday Photo [#25] – Why – Hello Miss Turner.

Something to watch (With Your Eyes!)

clarke_and_michael.jpg Through a bit of rolling around on the internet, I happened upon clarkandmichael.com. It is a little 10 (ten) part story about a couple of guys trying to write and pitch a script. I am only on the 3rd (third) episode (no – I will not say “webisode” – and no that didn’t count as saying it) – but have enjoyed it so far.

How did I happen upon it – and why do I like it?! Well – I was looking at stuff about “Superbad” – which is a movie that I am going to watch – both because I seem to like to watch movies – and also because I enjoy the work of Michael Cera (you know – George Michael from “Arrested Development” – right?!) and then this zipped by my radar. Maybe I am late to the party – but at least there is still some punch!

Ooh – and before I go – go – go – I wanted to throw out my typical “Advisory” warning . . . there may be some stuff in the videos that tiny people shouldn’t see . . . in the episodes that I have seen – the major cursing has been bleeped out – but some potential badness bleeds through every so often. Consider yourself duly noted.

Update #31 [Where is my mind?]

I have to stop and wonder where my mind is sometimes – like – I know that it is usually there for a joke – or at the very least for some ridiculous non sequitur . . . but then there are other times where even I am stupefied with my stupification.

I was at a birthday party with a bunch of people – where (at the time that this happened) I only knew the birthday girl and her better half. I was doing what I seem to do all too frequently . . . I was talking about my dog.

I need to set everyone straight for a second by making sure that you know that out of all of the creatures (people included) in the world – I see my dog (Irving Brown Socks) far more than (probably) everybody else – far – far – depressingly far more.

Anyway – this girl asks me about the dog and I smartly give all of his particulars – “He is a 45 (forty-five) pound – 3 (three) year old – boarder-collie black lab and his name is Irving Brown Socks!”

The wheels fell off of the conversation when she then asked me what he looked like. Now – that is a pretty simple question – I mean I know his birthday – and as much about his embedded collar as I care to . . . I know his quirks – his schedule – the things that he likes to do and the things that he shies away from – bank all of that on top of the fact that – in theory – I lean towards the direction of being a visual person – and the answer should have been a slam dunk.

My mind went totally blank. I started stumbling and mumbling about how he was black with some brown fur and that he wore white socks on his feet . . . but that was just the general information. So I stopped myself and came clean with the party. I couldn’t remember what my dog looked like – and what an odd feeling that was. I said something along the lines of “Let’s just say – for the sake of argument – that in some strange world the police put together a line-up of dogs . . . and that none of those dogs were showing any more love to me than any of the other dogs. I’m not entirely sure that – as we speak – that I would be able to pick my dog out of that line-up.”

As I was saying – I’m not sure what is wrong with me – or my brain. It strikes me as being a bad thing to not even be able to remember what my dog looks like. Sometimes I feel like my brain is like a goose in the rain – with all of the water of the world slipping right off of my back . . . or am I thinking of a duck?!

The end of the story is nice though. I had a nice sit down with the Irving – and we came to a decision that to make up for my very social faux pas . . . I have offered him the position of press secretary for the organization . . . and before anyone even begins to scream about nepotism – bear in mind that for one dull and dark moment in the world – I forgot exactly what my dog looks like and I think that you will understand that middle management in an burgeoning multi-media empire with nothing but glass ceilings is the very least that he deserves . . .

I’m glad that he is able to forgive my brain. I am glad that he is my dog.

Tip of the morning to ye!

So – for someone that doesn’t drink any coffee – anytime – I seem to drink a heck of a lot of Starbucks. But what in the world could I possibly drink at that highly-priced – sort-of-expensive – oh-so-yummy – slightly-addictive – place-that-the-world-goes-to – kind of place?

The Chai Latte – in the size of medium (or whatever they would like for you to call it).

Now – here is the tip.

Every so often I’ll get one of them tasty latte beverages. Then when I get around to sipping from it – I find – not the grand experience that I have come to crave – but instead a sad watery version of my drink of all drinks [EDITORS NOTE: Currently my drinks of all drinks that I love are Coke, Mountain Dew, Sweet Tea, Vitamin Water and Chai Latte – in no particular order]. The problem is that since they come so ridiculously hot – I usually don’t find out for quite awhile. But when the timing works out (when I still in close enough proximity to the Starbucks) – I get to go back to the store and get a different version – drink 2.0 – or the like.

I have probably returned about 3 (three) of these drinks over the last 6 (six) months or so – and never really known why they sometimes had water in them – was it the barista’s preference to save the company some milk or were they just aiming to make me miserable?! Then – last weekend – I got a drink – walked around for awhile – got in the car to leave – tasted it – and was depressed to find a watery watery mess. Out of the car I got – and back to the store I marched. After getting the latte making ladies attention – who happened to be super-busy and kind of snippy – the main truth in the world came out.

Evidently the recipe calls for water (stupid recipe) – and so all you have to do in the world is say “No water – please.” and everything should work out fine. Now if I could just figure out how to get them to make it less scorching hot . . . my (perfect) teeth are so sensitive.

The song (that) is stuck in my head.

So – here is a song that is quite catchy. It is by a band named “Peter Bjorn and John” and it is called “Young Folks.” I hear it in my head all (okay – some) of the time . . . especially the whistling part. That is all that I am going to say about it . . . mostly because I am nervous to see if this little Flash mp3 player is going to work . . . keep your whistlers crossed.

As a tiny extra side note – you guys seriously need to work on crossing your whistlers . . . I had a serious meltdown trying to figure out the XML and the configuration of the SWF to make that there player work . . . but take a deep breath and a wave of thanks in the direction of Mister Clunky Robot . . . because he saved the day.