Lobster--> Grant--> Peapods

Hey gang, check this out:



Few worldly delights are as keen and lofty as being sandwiched on a Cabaret bill between "Lobster" and "Peapods".

Okay, I am starting this story in the late-middle. A little while ago, I was asked by the local theater company that I hammer and saw stuff for, Live Girls! Theater, if I wanted to contribute anything for our Season Kick-off Cabaret on Saturday. I think I was specifically asked for a Top-10 list of some sort that had something to do with the theme of the Cabaret, which was "Slumber Party". Here's basically what I came up with after months of intense work, sequestered in a rustic lakeside cabin with only candlelight to illuminate my furious literary genius:

Top 1 Greatest Things About Slumber Parties:
1. Slow-motion pillow fights.

After I accepted the fact that I would probably be the only person to find a "Top 1" list funny, I gave up and figured that maybe it was time to switch gears from a writing a "Top 10" list to my greater strength, which is running away and hiding. But, having vaguely obligated myself to producing some sort of appropriate and relevant material, I felt guilty about backing out, so I hammered out a little last-minute story a couple of days before and sent it in for approval.

Miraculously, and probably due to a mix of insufficient time to find a replacement and sheer pity, I was informed on Saturday morning, the day of the Cabaret, and right before a super-important and intense fantasy baseball draft, that my story was a go. This gave me precious little time to polish it up and figure out what I was doing, and I wasted most of that on working out the details of my entrance (which, despite some technical difficulty, turned out okay). Fortunately, it also gave me no time to freak out about going on stage and reading something that I threw together at the last minute in front of people.

So anyway, in case you are interested, the story is [here]. It probably helps to imagine it in its natural habitat, which is being solemnly read aloud out of a dusty hardback book by me, reclining in a chair with my pipe and sweater, after being pulled onto the stage on a platform attached to a little girl's bike with training wheels. However, in your imagination, you are allowed to replace the safety goggles that I made the girl who towed me out onto the stage wear with aviator goggles and a scarf, because that would have been even more awesome. Also, maybe next time I will see if I can put a fancy lamp and a hi-ball with scotch on the platform too.

All-in-all everything turned out pretty good, I guess. It's weird being on stage with the bright lights and the hushed crowds and the not-knowing-what-you-are-doings, but I think the Vitamin-R that I kicked back in the AM helped refreshingly calm my nerves. It also helped that I made some of my friends come, and that they were obligated to like it, as a birthday present. In fact, I would like to officially announce on this legally-binding publication that I owe PIPS, Taco, Heenkenstein, Dread Pirate Colins, Booster Seat, Tougs, BRG, the Faux-sin, and Princess Grossman 2 hours of my time doing something that I wouldn't ordinarily do unless guilt-tripped or bribed. You guys are the best!

Also, KEEP VOTING ON THE SUPER-EXCITING BAC-LOG REVIEW CHALLENGE 2008! It's a super-close race between "Bac-Log: A tragic balance of severe witticism tempered with batches of the mundane that excruciatingly explores the nebulous realms of being vs. becoming", "Bac-Log: Possibly all an elaborate inside joke, or maybe not", and "Bac-Log: It's more like a blue page of words that coincidentally formed sentences." You have until Wednesday to affect the courses of history!

FINALLY

What up, gang[?]

Two things: 1.) When used as a greeting, does that actually need a question mark? 2.) I renewed my drivers license yesterday (because I'm old), and counter 6 was piloted by the most awesomely archetypal DOL employee ever. You know, rumpled, beady, bespectacled, completely humorless-- if the DOL ever pulled a Star Wars Episode 2 and hired a weird water dolphin planet to clone bureau-troopers, this guy would be like Boba Fett. Anyway, every time he called someone up to the counter he meticulously deployed the standard, "Firstname Lastname, please come to counter six. Firstname [pause] Lastname," even if the person was already standing there. I watched this machine-like bureaucratic precision for maybe half an hour, when this Indian dude wanders up to counter 6, and the DOL employee just says, "what up," with a little head nod. What? Does this Indian guy come in so often that he and the DOL-bots are on "what up" terms?

Anyway, I meant to post these awesome Bac-Log reviews a couple days ago, but I somehow became really busy. Sorry! [not that sorry]. Okay, so here's how this review contest is going to proceed: I will post either the whole review (if it is of reasonable length *cough* *cough* Courtney *hack* *HACK*), or a representative summary. I will conclude each review with an associated tagline. Also, as in the legendary Cancer-Fighting Haiku Contest, each review will be accompanied by an image generated by entering the tagline into Google Image Search.

Hold on to your butts:

Wait, what movie is that from?

RACHEL'S REVIEW:

I think your friend Sara's friend eats too much paste during passing period. Your blog reminds me of the excellent, albeit defunct, teen magazine called Sassy. Sassy was "fashion" magazine that did not focus on fashion much in the way that Bac-Log does not focus on bacon. But that's what made it great. Keep up the good work. Sara's friend can suck it. End of review.

Tagline: Bac-Log: Like the defunct teen fashion magazine Sassy but for bacon.

* * *

HEIDI'S REVIEW:

Meh, sometimes I read it.

Tagline: Bac-Log: Meh, sometimes something something *bored*

* * *

COURTNEY'S REVIEW (excerpt):

OK, this is not where I thought this blog post was going to go with previously mentioned title, but ok, I'm at work and I don't have anything else to do. Blah, blah, blah.............. blah...Ha.... blah blah blah... hahahaha... that is soo Grant... blah blah blah, a lot of words. Ha.

Tagline: Bac-Log: blah blah blah, a lot of words. Ha.

* * *

ADRIAN'S REVIEW:

I would say the best thing about bac-log is that it allows me to maintain an excellent distant tenuous relationship with a brother who lives in the same town as me but whom I never see because he lives farther than a ten minute walk. It is a tragic balance of severe witticism tempered with batches of the mundane that excruciatingly explores the nebulous realms of being vs. becoming...in blog format. I like to read it when I pretend to work and recommend it to jewish people. I suck at writing comments! I need to scan the picture I drew of a squirrel going to work-That would more accurately portray my feelings about this blog.

Tagline: Bac-Log: A tragic balance of severe witticism tempered with batches of the mundane that excruciatingly explores the nebulous realms of being vs. becoming.

* * *

TRICIA'S REVIEW:

The bac-log is where I go when I am feeling glum and bored with the thoughts that are floating through my head. I am consistently surprised by the witty commentary and always amazed at its complete randomness. I often try to bring up random and exciting topics of conversation with the author of bac-log in hopes that one day it will make it to the all-hallowed walls of the bac-log, but it has yet to happen... I also use it to prove to co-workers that the stories I bring back from the weekend are true, and that Grant really is off his rocker.

Tagline: Bac-Log: Those stories from the weekend are true!

* * *

RITA'S REVIEW (excerpt):

So you want a review? [Uses the promise of familiar crisp, satisfying bacon to lure you into the thick smoky outer regions of the blogsphere, some never to return.] I hate to admit it but Yes, I did drop him on his head when he was very young, that or maybe those scary Lego people.

Tagline: Bac-Log: ...something about scary lego people. What?

* * *

SARA'S REVIEW (excerpt):

Bac-log makes no sense to me. I always read it and laugh, but then I wonder if I actually get it, or if its all an inside joke that I would understand if I actually lived in the same state as the author. However, with this contest, sprung from the comment that my completely disconnected friend made, so I feel that I've been brought back in the fold and get the joke. I probably still don't get it though.

Tagline: Bac-Log: Possibly all an elaborate inside joke, or maybe not.


AWESOME! Okay, so now that you've all thoroughly read the reviews and carefully considered the taglines and discussed the elaborate thumbnail images with your colleagues over piping-hot cups of fancy tea, you must vote on your favorite. THAT MEANS YOU ACTUALLY HAVE TO VISIT THE BLOG, GOOGLE READER USERS. Don't worry, I will refund those extra mouse clicks. (The check is already in the mail.) (Please don't cash it until at least the 15th. I don't want to overdraw again.)

Just in case you don't like any of the taglines, I have included the versatile "None of the above/I am incapable of human feeling" option.

Also, you can vote for multiple taglines.

VOTE NOW HURRY GO GO GO GO

ARE YOU READY

FOR SOME DEMOCRACY?! [hint: yes]

Okay, here's the deal: I need MORE REVIEWS OF BAC-LOG. They do not need to be as elaborate or contain as many "blah"s as Courtney's review. They can also contain more thinly-veiled criticism. They can also contain more suggestions for what you think Bac-Log should be that it is not, and will never be, because it's my stupid blog, okay? They can also contain more reviews of things completely unrelated to Bac-Log, because that would actually be sort of awesome. They can also be a lot shorter and contain more swearing and/or just mashing the keyboard. They could also just be a picture. I KNOW YOU CAN DO THIS, PEOPLE. Just be sure to stretch first, and wait at least an hour before you go swimming afterwards.

THEN, after I collect a couple more reviews, I will post the review and an associated blog slogan related to the review, for everyone to point at and laugh. THEN, I will make people vote on which review/slogan should "win". THEN, I will make people vote on what the prizes should be. This is going to be awesome.

How awesome? As awesome as this guy:


Bac-Log Review Contest 2009™: You will buy the whole seat, and you will use the whole seat because you paid for the whole seat. HOWEVER, if you are given the option of only buying the edge at a reduced price, you should do that, because you will ONLY NEED THE EDGE.

technology is awesome!

When you file your taxes online, this little guy puts on a tiny green visor and adds numbers up on an adorable little adding machine:



Because that's how computers work. (Apparently, paintings of animals in people clothes gets me every time.)

Also, you should check out this awesome blog post Ian wrote about our cross-country adventure last year.

Is this how blogging works? If not, [PUT REAL BLOG STUFF HERE AND THEN ERASE THIS WHEN YOU ARE DONE].

***

I am so out of it today.

More shining reviews of Bac-Log

Check out this awesome review of Bac-Log by one of my friend Sara's friends:

I read a bit of that blog, therefore I consider myself an informed expert when I say, that is not a bacon blog. That might not even be a blog in general. It's more like a blue page of words that coincidentally formed sentences. It's not bad! It's just not... anything... in particular.

How do you have a blog about bacon? What the eff happens with bacon consistently enough to dedicate an entire domain name to it?

Bac-log is an amazing name for a bacon blog, if it made sense to have a blog about bacon.

If he were a chef who only cooked bacon, maybe the above would be feasible (and incredible!!!!).

Bacon blog research? Really? Who are you talking to?

Hahahahaha! In case you missed it, here is the relevant part again, with emphasis added:

I read a bit of that blog, therefore I consider myself an informed expert when I say, that is not a bacon blog. That might not even be a blog in general. It's more like a blue page of words that coincidentally formed sentences. It's not bad! It's just not... anything... in particular.

Wait, maybe that is not enough emphasis:

I read a bit of that blog, therefore I consider myself an informed expert when I say, that is not a bacon blog. That might not even be a blog in general. It's more like a blue page of words that coincidentally formed sentences. It's not bad! It's just not... anything... in particular.

Fringe blog scientists have long postulated that there existed at the asymptotic limits of infinitely-dimensional blogspace a better slogan than "The most important blog in the history of time." For the most part, these fringe blogologists have been shunned and ridiculed by the mainstream conservative blog science establishment, who are primarily concerned with securing blog research grants and free tickets to fancy black-tie open-bar Blogsonian events, rather than forwarding the frontiers of the most important of all sciences. Well, score one for the underdogs, ladies and gentlemen. The absolute limits of perfection have finally been reached:

Bac-Log: It's more like a blue page of words that coincidentally formed sentences.

Awesome! I just can't get over how completely and perfectly Informed Expert (or IE for short) encapsulated all of Bac-Log in one tiny review. IE sure CRASHED my blogging party! (Ignore that sentence; it is just to see if I can get Bac-Log to pop up when people search for Internet Explorer problems).

I think this week should be Bac-Log Review Contest 2009 Week™! Send me a short review of Bac-Log (in the comments or email), and then somehow there will be prizes. Trust me, I might not know how to blog, but I also don't know how to make contests.

Brooklyn Bacon Takedown

Guys: It is almost time to ride the Bacon Warpig!



Finally!

Seriously, though, it is a 30-bacon-recipe smackdown and something called the Bacon Warpig at a bar called Radegast Hall in Williamsburg. This cannot possibly not be awesome. That sentence is a little awkward because of the double-negative, so you may also think of this event as can't be not impossible to not be awesome. Or maybe, you can't not disagree that this can't not be impossible to not can't be unawesome. Um. JUST GO TO IT, OKAY.

I think all of the Brooklyn-based Bac-Log enthusiasts should go and take pictures and make friends (because networking is an important part of the New York lifestyle.) [Note to Sara: I heard that all of the bacon they used is actually locally-produced artisan vegan bacon, they're just being chill and not advertising it that way.] [Note to IFK and Kevin Bacon: [SARA DON'T READ THIS] Don't worry guys, it's totally meat, probably meat-fed meat stuffed with more meat inside. Probably even the air will be meaty.]

Quote from Skulls and Bacon blog:

And it's in a beer garden which is just like icing on the meat cake.

Yep. March 29. If you guys don't go get hammered and ride the Bacon Warpig I'm going to be pissed.

SNOWPOCALYPSE: Part More

Chapter [last chapter+1]

I awoke at the crack of the 4th snooze cycle on my trusty sidekick alarm clock, Clocky.

"Gdmornin, Clocky," I grumbled.

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP, said Clocky.

"What! What's that, Clocky? Timmy is trapped in a well?"

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP, Clocky replied, and we both laughed. Or beeped more, depending on which one of us you are talking about. It is our favorite joke.

After patting Clocky lovingly but firmly on the head, I rolled out of bed and noisily stumbled into the bathroom. It seemed like just another ordinary day. OR DID IT? That foreshadowing seemed sort of out of place. OR DID IT? That meta-foreshadowing seemed sort of--

I shaved, showered, and dressed, but some of the half-remembered dialog betwixt Clocky and I still lingered. Is it just me, or was there some subtle inflection and overly-specific word choices on snooze cycle two? What does Clocky know? This thought haunted me as I grabbed my lunch and sweatshirt and left the warm gentle arms of my home to seek my fortune in the hard world.

I opened the door of my building and was immediately blinded by a sudden flash of sparkling white light. I must have just died! Clocky had been trying to tell me to stay in bed! Oh, what a sore trial it must have been that pitted sacred alarm clock duty against Clocky's foreknowledge of its beloved human master's death. I vowed then and there that when my turn comes to haunt common household appliances to annoy and frighten the living, that I would choose Clocky as my home, so that we may be together forever. As my full and extremely interesting life flashed before my eyes, I remembered when Clocky and I first met. It was many years ago, when I took refuge from the pouring rain in a run-down dusty electronic repair shop. The shopkeeper was a stubby grizzled man with a glass eye and an ill temperament. I felt uncomfortable under his penetrating and sneering gaze, so I picked up a dusty alarm clock and inquired about its price. I needed an alarm clock because my excuse about not having an alarm clock was starting to wear thin with my employers. The shopkeeper gave a queer grin, and his glass eye sort of pulsated a little bit. "No charge," he said in a cracked voice. "This clock has chosen you. But I warn you," he added urgently, and lowered his voice to a haunting whisper. "This clock has strange powers. It can tell you strange things about the future, such as what time you will wake up, and strange things about the present, such as what time it is right now. Also, it is haunted." I thanked the creepy pulsating glass-eyed shopkeeper and went on my way, never truly heeding his last words. Funny that only now in death they come back to me. I wonder what other soul has been watching over me in intermittent silence all these years. I steel myself against the cold eternity before me and think, "there will be plenty of time to find out."

Oh wait, that blinding white light is just because it snowed. Again.

*Yawn*

SPECIAL TWIST ENDING:

The day after I met Clocky I returned to where the electronics repair shop had been the day before, but found only a bustling kebab stand instead. I asked Captain Kebab what had happened, but he told me there hadn't been a repair shop on that street for ten years, ever since one had mysteriously burned down, leaving no trace except for a soot-covered glass eye.

Also, who am I kidding-- Snowmaggedon is awesome!

Affirmation that I have the best taste in everything

Yesterday:

• Approximately 353,000 people were born.
• Approximately 158,000 people died
• Grant figured out how to rate movies on Netflix
• 75-383 species of plants or animals became extinct.
  
• Approximately 1.2 billion pounds of potatoes were consumed

Amazing, right! It turns out you just have to click on one of the five stars below a movie title to rate it!

Okay, so I rated a bunch of movies yesterday because I finally reached the end of my giant Netflix queue of all movies that people recommended to me as "YOU HAVEN'T SEEN HAROLD AND KUMAR GO TO WHITE CASTLE YET!?" I needed a recommendation, and Netflix promised to feed my ratings into a giant magical machine which would digest this information with math acid and deposit fresh steaming piles of suggested cinema at my feet. I imagine that the hordes of Netflix elves crank endlessly on recommendation machines that look sort of like this:



But with 50% less pasta.

Anyways, so I rate a bunch of movies, but I am just not that impressed with Netflix's initial suggestions for things I might like. I mean, I'm sure the Justice League animated television series is awesome and all, but I guess I was hoping for something more. So I decide to check out the "friends" section and command the Netflix elves to go crank on a different machine:



In order to find other Netflix members with similar tastes in movies.

Well, it turns out my top match (79% similar!) is someone, well, how about you just look at their profile:



*SIGH*. At least Easily_Entertained demonstrates consistency by literally rating every movies she's ever seen as 5-stars. Well, I suppose I will update my queue to include some of her recommendations, such as Dragonslayer, Spongebob Squarepants: Sea Stories, and Look Who's Talking Too.

*SIGH*

-----

SIDE NOTE: From WikiAnswers.com, which I now recommend should never be used for anything, especially building things like cars or space shuttles, or giant robots with saws for arms but who are only programmed for good:

Q. How many babies are born in the world daily?
A. "approximately 4 babies"

Hmm, that is unexpected but very interesting! But what about just in the US?

Q. How many people are born in the US every day?
A. "well, i would say that there are about 1 million people born each day in the US."

??!???

POSSIBLE REASONS FOR ENORMOUS DISCREPANCY:

1. fundamental difference in definition of "baby" vs "person"
2. improper metric or unit conversion
3. The US is 250,000 times bigger than the world in which it is contained, possibly by projecting the bulk of its size into some other dimension, like Awesome-Dimension, or Frito-Dimension.
   
4. INTERNET!

IMPORTANT MESSAGE:

Hey, does anyone have a bear-shaped honey container that is empty, or almost empty, or contains unsuitable honey for your honey needs? If so, can I have it? It's for a homework assignment in my bear-shaped honey container class in container school.



Please? If I fail this class I'll have to go back to my unpaid salt mining internship. I'll trade you some size-4 coffee filters, or a potato.

GRATITUDE: mysterious poker night gremlins

Those of you who know me well would probably describe me as "a shining example of non-stop refinement and class", or maybe "humble". I am sad to have to burst this bubble and tarnish my pristine image, but it is necessary for me to relate an embarrassing epilogue chapter of my super-exciting Monday update in order to distribute proper gratitude and credit for an amazing poker night miracle.

To preface: Some of the gang and I deployed the highly sought-after and legendary EPIC HAPPY HOUR on Friday, which lived up to its name. Indeed, we accomplished the one concrete goal that we had set for ourselves (because setting goals is an important part of personal development), which was to get kicked out of The Sloop. Victory! Afterward, I decided that I desperately needed a victory hot dog from a street vendor, so I made the choice to undertake the long and dangerous journey back toward my home, which would take me past the hot dog dude on Ballard Ave, instead of crashing at Heenkenstein's pad which was nigh at hand. Victory Hot Dog was a huge personal success, but it also put me home extremely late.

The next day, Dread Pirate Colins calls and wakes me up because his car battery is dead and he needs a jump so he can make it to basketball. Under ordinary circumstances this would not be a problem, but I had abandoned my car in Fremont at the outset of EPIC HAPPY HOUR the day before. My rough plan, originally, was to somehow get to basketball and afterward bum a ride to my car. Anyway, taking pity on Dread Pirate Colins' situation, I decide to get my car beforehand instead, and since it was sunny out, I decide that I should jog to my car. Well, where I had parked in Fremont ended up being a lot further away than I envisioned, so I ended up being pretty beat by the time I got to my trusty steed and galloped triumphantly to DPC's aid. And then we played basketball.

Between the lack of sleep, running, sunshine, and basketball, I started to fade at 5ish or so, but a bunch of dudes were coming over to play poker at 7, so I powered through (because I'm a superstar) (no). ANYWAY, the point is, I was sleepy, and then poker night happened.

Okay, so poker night was fun and awesome and filled with pizza and beer, as poker nights are want to do, but at some point around midnight I noticed that I was no longer making decisions based on what cards I was dealt. Every once in a while, I would realize people were looking at me, and this was my cue to do something with my chips. I think I went all-in against Apollo, like, eight times, for no reason other than it didn't seem like anyone else was going to go all-in against Apollo randomly that hand. I was truly a poker god on Saturday.

I eventually decided to retire my god-like poker skillz to give the others a fighting chance at glory, and also because I was out of money. I left the game and sat down on my couch to converse with Taco about the finer points of something (maybe food? whatever it was, I USED MY WORDS GOOD). Probably mid-conversation I decided to rest my eyes.

[SCENE MISSING]

I awoke sitting up in the middle seat of my couch, still clutching a half-finished beer, mouth agape as if with an unfinished word. It was dark. My stereo was turned off. The poker chips were all put away. Most of the empties were consolidated by the sink. The pizza boxes were gone. The table was cleared off. The front door was closed. In other words, A MIRACLE HAD HAPPENED.

Okay, so Heenkenstein and Jason had left before I had fallen asleep, but PIPS, Taco, Apollo, Borujewkksiehcisoew, Dread Pirate Colins, Hobo, and Steueueueck were all still around the last time I was conscious. DPC and Hobo are probably the loudest people I know, and there was music playing, and all of the lights were on, and I still just don't see any way someone could fall asleep while sitting up in those conditions.

Regardless, it seems clear that the dudes must have eaten something after midnight and transformed into adorable and courteous little cleaning gremlins, who silently swarmed over my apartment with their magic wands of cleaning and restoration. I have to give it to you guys: You are the awesomest poker night gremlins EVER. I totally owe you all a late-night tidying-up while you're asleep.

Also, someone left a food bank challenge cookbook. (?)

UPDATE: Hahaha, I just remembered that in addition to everything being clean and turned off, someone also left a slice of pizza on a plate in front of me, and a $1 bill next to me on the couch, perhaps as a tip for being such a great poker host. You're welcome. Also, YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST.

Monday

Chapter I

Okay, so last week as we were barronking at the divey sports bar by Heenkenstein's apartment for Taco Tuesday, the conversation completely devolved at one point into uncontrollable laughter fueled by $10 buckets of Session and the following gems of visual composition:









I think this is because Star Wars perfectly mirrors the human condition.

Also, huge props to Vik, Bac-log's Permanently-Interim Patron Saint (henchforth known as "PIPS") for having the Sad Vader picture readily available for handy reference on his phone. Technology gets an A+ in Sad Vader portability.

Chapter II

Check out these fan bacos by intrepid baconaut Alan:


These fan bacos are AWESOME AND DELICIOUS-LOOKING. More people should make fan bacos, and invite me over for quality control purposes.

Chapter III

A long time ago, I wrote a little blurb about bacon to serve as rich and important backstory to some other "story" I was "writing". [It is available here for your reference]. The very bestest part amongst all of the other best parts of this bacon tale was this note that I appended on the end:

[its a good thing you wrote this at work because this is easily the most pointless thing ever written]

It is amazing to think how narrow and small my scope was way back then, in 2006 or something. I was young and naive, and saw the world as both limitless and overwhelming. I thought that my feeble efforts were on the cutting edge of pointlessness, but I had no idea how deep that rabbit hole was, or, um, how far the rabbit tunnel went, or something about rabbits. It is humbling to think that what I thought was the peak of my pointlessness is probably more relevant and structured than anything I have since gracefully pounded into the bac-log tubes.

Sometimes looking back and seeing how far you've come is inspiring. It makes me wonder how much farther I can ride this out-of-control apple cart blog train thing that is plummeting down the steep slopes of nonsense.

We will see...

the LOST update you've been waiting for your whole life, or at least since yesterday.

In case you guys missed yesterday's new exciting episode of the popular television program Lost, here is what happened:

Some of the people, who I guess left the island but now want to go back for some reason, go visit Grandma in a church, and she shows them a giant magical pendulum and some science stuff written on a chalkboard, and this one dude is like, "this doesn't make any sense and I am not going back to the island and you are all CRAZY, especially Grandma here", and he almost kicks the pendulum as he stalks off. Then Jack, who I guess is the "skeptic" of the show, is like, "okay, I totally buy Grandma's story about this pendulum being able to predict the location of the time-traveling island I just escaped from, when do we leave?" Then Jack and Kate have some going-back-to-the-island sex, and then next morning Jack makes himself some coffee and Kate comes out of the bedroom, and Jack is like, "oh Kate, I, uh, totally made you some coffee", which turns out to be a masterful bluff because then she just sort of awkwardly leaves.

[cue Fight Club narration] I am Jack's inflated ego.

Okay, so now Jack has to go pick up JOHN LOCKE (who I thought was named Jim. Oops!) who is DEAD (when did that happen?) and being refrigerated in a meat locker. Then he puts some of his dad's shoes on JOHN LOCKE which he stole from Grandpa, who looks like he is maybe two years older than Jack, after Grandpa tried to escape his nursing home.

[cue Fight Club narration] I am Jack's willing suspension of disbelief.

Anyway, ALSO, there is this woman named Joon, or something, who is married to a dude named Jin, or something, who is convinced Jin is dead because she was there when they dropped his body from a flaming helicopter onto an exploding oil tanker, or something. HOWEVER, this other guy, let's call him Johnson, convinces Joon to tag along with their crazy scheme to go back to the island because he can prove that Jin is not dead! What a miracle!

[cue Fight Club narration] I am Jack's appreciation of true love miracles.

Okay, so the gang gets on the an airplane that Grandma's sciencey chalkboard and pendulum tell her will fly through a window to the island. And guess what? THE WHOLE GANG IS THERE! Not just Jack, and Kate, and Joon, and Johnson, but also Jerry and Jimbo. FATE. Also, Jack reads a special letter that JOHN LOCKE left with Grandma, which is very passive-aggressive and not much help. I guess that's what endless toil at the Donkey Wheel of life will do to a person.

And then Jerry wakes up in a waterfall clutching a guitar case.

TUNE IN NEXT WEEK TO FIND OUT WHAT IS IN THAT GUITAR CASE.

Midget Finger Dream

Okay, so usually every week or so I hang out with my friend Laura to absorb some delicious TV rays with my eyeballs and and to absorb some delicious beer and pizza rays with my tummy. Usually we focus our TV absorbing capacity on soaking up Buffy the Vampire Slayer, because it has so many great fashion tips, and is an amazingly realistic portrayal of high school life in a high school in which five or six students mysteriously die every day. The other day, however, when I was doing my usual digging through her stuff when she's not looking, I discovered that she had a couple of Netflix movies. One was called "The Number 23", and the plot blurb on the back sounded reasonably interesting, so we decided to temporary suspend our Buffy consumption for an evening and watch that instead.

Um, I don't actually remember much about the movie after beer #5 or so (5 = 2+3, TWENTY THREE! IT IS EVERYWHERE AND IS A CURSE! [That is an inside joke for those who have seen the movie]). But after the movie Laura was like, "man, that movie reminded me of this intense lucid dream that I had the other day. I haven't had a dream like that since the Midget Finger Dream. So that scene where--"

I think she was going to say something about her Number 23 Fan Fiction Dream, or whatever it was she was talking about, but at this point I demanded instant clarification as to this mysterious Midget Finger Dream. "Is Midget Finger Dream a dream in which you explore a reality similar to our own except you have midget fingers?" I asked.

"No, in Midget Finger Dream I am captured by midgets in a cave and escape by biting the fingers off of my captors. But anyway, so in this other dream--"

"Why are you in a cave? Did the midgets take you there?" I ask.

"No, we go into the cave seeking some sort of treasure, which is guarded by the midgets," she replies.

"We? Who are you with?"

"Indiana Jones. Indiana Jones and I are looking for some sort of treasure and get captured by midgets and to escape I bite the fingers off of a midget. Anyway--"

"How did you get captured?"

"I don't remember."

"Was it your fault? I bet it was your fault."

"Listen, I don't remember, okay? Somehow we get captured by midgets, because it there was a trap or something. It's not important. What's important is--"

"How does Indiana Jones escape? Does he also munch on some midget fingers, or does he escape in a much more clever and badass way?"

"Actually, um, I don't think Indiana Jones escapes," Laura admits somewhat reluctantly. "I think the midgets get him."

"What?! Do you try to save him, or send help or something?"

"Uh, no, but it's not that simple, like, I'm busy escaping and I think he would probably understand."

"Okay, so you get Indiana Jones captured by midgets and then you just run away without ever trying to save him?"

"Hey, this dream is about ME escaping from midgets, okay? Indiana Jones just happens to be in it. How about you just forget about the Indiana Jones thing."

"After you escape, do you at least feel bad about leaving Indiana Jones to get eaten by midgets?"

"Um, well, usually I don't make it too far before I wake up. Once, though, I almost made it out of the cave and could actually feel the sun on my face before I woke up."

"Usually? This is a recurring dream? How many times have you had it?"

"Maybe once a week or so since I was 10."

"I bet you have it when you regret something," I theorize.

"Like inviting you over?" She replies.

MIDGET FINGER DREAM: A recurring dream in which you and Indiana Jones are captured by midgets while treasure hunting and you escape by biting the fingers off of your captors, and as you are running away maybe you will turn toward Indiana Jones and see his outstretched hand asking for help, but you just ignore it and keep running. It is also now the gold standard by which all other recurring Indiana Jones guilt dreams will be measured.

'Lost' is appropriately titled. Also: awesome.

SPOILER ALERT: This blog post contains vague and possibly accurate plot and character information about the popular television program Lost.

Okay: A long time ago, in ancient times, when the television series Lost had just begun, I decided that it looked stupid and that I would not watch it. My impulsive reaction was probably influenced by what seemed to be an inexplicable glut of deserted island movies, such as Cast Away, and, um, that Beach movie with Titanic DiCaprio in it*.

*When we were in college and had all sorts of endless time on our hands (because why study and do your homework today when you can do it NEVER), BRG and the 'Ster and Big D and maybe some other people and I camped out at the movie theater to watch the first Matrix movie at midnight on opening day. The theater was totally packed, and everyone was noisy and excited and generally unruly right through the previews up to when they showed a preview for The Beach, starring Leonardo DiCaprio, still fresh off his Titanic success. At that point the entire theater just totally froze out of complete and utter shock. The smell of fresh popcorn became mixed with the smoke of hundreds of snark fuses blowing at once. When the preview was over, there was complete awkward silence, so BRG and I yelled, "SINK HIM AGAIN" from the balcony, after which everyone got rowdy again.

Okay, so maybe my reasons for not watching Lost were not exactly airtight (Cast Away came out in 2000, and Lost didn't come out until 2004, and I'm not even exactly sure what The Beach is about.) But anyway, the point is, I didn't watch Lost or have any interest in Lost. Then, many years later, I discovered that EVERYONE I KNOW watches Lost, and if the subject of Lost is breached in conversation everything instantly devolves into ferverous Lost gossiping. I resigned myself to catching up on this whole Lost bandwagon thing because I can't stand being outside a heated gossip circle. I started by watching the pilot episode on my computer.

Here is what I knew about Lost prior to watching the pilot:

1. Trapped on an island!
2. There's a hobbit on the show!

Here is what I knew about Lost after watching the pilot:

1. Trapped on an island!
2. There's a hobbit on the show but it is normal-human-sized.
3. Some dude is really into tracheotomies, and another dude gets sucked into a jet engine!

But then I got bored of watching the show and didn't watch any more episodes. [FAST FORWARD ABOUT A YEAR]. On Wednesday, Patron Saint graciously invited me over to his pad to partake in the ancient and sacred ritual of Lost Night with some of the gang. I reminded him that I had only ever watched the pilot, and that was a long time ago, but he was not concerned by these details. In fact, the gang was confident that they could get me up to speed, and volunteered to answer any questions that I had while watching it. Awesome!

Here is something interesting that I learned about the Lost experience: Prior to every new episode, they play the previous episode but with Pop-Up Video-style fact bubbles that reinforce and clarify important plot points. I imagine this would be extremely handy, except that I was too busy drinking to actually pay attention, so I can't personally attest to their effectiveness. One thing that I did notice about the bubbles is that they seem very inconsistent as far as narrative depth. One might be something like, "Jack is confused because he doesn't know that Julie knows that he knows about Julius, who is Jack's unborn father from the future", and then the next bubble will be like, "They are trapped on an island."

ANYWAY, so the gang gets me as much up-to-speed as they can in 15 minutes, and we dive into the latest exciting episode.

Here is what I know about Lost now:

1. Trapped on an island!
2. I didn't see the hobbit so he must have died.
3. There is a monster called Smoke Monster, Monster of Smoke.
4. THE ISLAND IS A TIME TRAVELING ISLAND.
5. Some people got off the island and now have to get back on the island because they miss the good times.
6. Part of what makes the island time travel is a wheel called Donkey Wheel, Wheel of Donkeys.
7. Donkey Wheel, Wheel of Donkeys has also been, at various other parts of the Lost timeline, Polar Bear Wheel, Wheel of Polar Bears, and Jim Wheel, Wheel of Jim.
   
   Heenkypants: They use polar bears because it's so cold.
   Grant: Why is it so cold?
   Heenkypants: We don't know yet.
   Grant: Where do they get the polar bears?
   Heenkypants: We don't know yet.
   Grant: Where do they get the donkeys?
   Heenkypants: We don't know yet.
   Grant: Why are there no donkeys there now?
   Heenkypants: We don't know yet.
   


8. If the donkeys are broken or not there, apparently people get bloody noses because of ELECTROMAGNETIC FIELDS.
9. This one dude, who I think is named Jim, falls in a well which closes and finds the ghost of the father of some other dude, who I think is named Jack, who tells him to spin Donkey Wheel, Wheel of Donkeys, even though he just fell down a well and has a broken leg AND it's really cold AND nobody knows that time it is.
10. Heenkypants, Patron Saint, Taco and I got into a really great heated argument about the paradoxes of time travel as they relate to this one chick who tells this one dude that he told her in the past that she will die in the future but this dude doesn't remember because he will do this in his future which is also her past even though they are both in the present sort of too. The argument was resolved when we discovered we were all saying the same thing, just loud.
11. There is this rich dude, let's call him Colonel Fancypants, who sends a ship to destroy the island because he was there in the past and something blows up, I think, and there is a helicopter and some French people.
12. Smoke Monster, Monster of Smoke, really lives up to his name.
13. ALL six people who left the island MUST get back the island to make some crazy scheme work, but, oh, you only got 4 of them to agree? That's pretty good I guess.
14. Everyone's name starts with a 'J', except for Kate, who Heenkypants wishes was back on the island so she could wear dirty tank tops again.
15. There is an important lesson about when life starts in an unborn child, as it pertains to the 6 people who left the island who now have to get back to the island, because one of them is pregnant and/or already had a child! Does the fetus have to go back too?

Um, there is probably other stuff that I learned too, but it may require pop-up bubble refreshment before it really sinks in.

I am now totally hooked on this show!

baco is why you're fat

This is why you're fat.

I'm fat because of all of the ENDLESS GLORY AND FAME the baco is garnering all of a sudden for some reason. And by "fat" I mean "chiseled and toned in a god-like statuesque form and reclining in piles of riches".

You can get a pretty good idea of how I feel about this by taking the exact opposite of this randomly generated adolescent angsty poem:

when ppl
laugh at
something
sorrowful; just
look away and die.

i know it is what they
like, i wear teeny shoes, on
tiny feet, but
nothing about me,
is quite as small, as a
season of warmth has
come to the next
degree. maybe what's next will be
when we took the stain from
the day
i told her i see it
every day, taught it every day i
wished that this is starting
to get in. it is cold,
yet
soothing.

Hahahaha, if this poetry generator would have been around when I was 14 it could have saved me HOURS that I could have reinvested into slouching around and sulking.