Haunted by the memories of old, broken dreams,
Bitter like the taste of dandelion greens.
Promises unfulfilled, sacred idols set ablaze,
Shadows flittering through my window pane.

No comfortable absolutes offered this time, my friend. Life is a journey not a sightseeing tour. Expect to pave your own roads and post your own signs.

Contentment for a spell

Lately, I don't know what to say. In a week it will be Spring. The year is already off to a great start, but I don't feel like talking about specifics. I am entering a *quiet period*. It is time to watch the changes of the season unfold, breathe in the delicate fragrance of new blooms, and dangle my feet in the cool rushing river of life.


Frownlines, Inc. presents

I'm thinking about developing a TV pilot called The Shitties!

The story chronicles the misadventures of a group of friends in their 30's whose bad attitudes have outlived their purpose. During their youth, they wore punk rock t-shirts to school and fought for independence, truth, and identity. Yet unlike the rest of their peers, they refused to move ahead as time marched on. Now, mired in the past, they erroneously believe themselves to be the same rebellious crusaders they've always been, but to everyone else their bad attitudes serve as little more than an ironic reminder of how they've missed the boat entirely.

Blinded by an overinflated sense of pride, the friends spend their time congratulating one another of their superiority over the rest of humanity via snarky bad puns and innuendo. This pervasive form of malignant narcissism further compels them to stalk and gossip about celebrities, politicians, and their peers in an attempt to shoot down "the competition" and thus, hopefully, make themselves feel better by comparison. Predictably, these attempts bomb monstrously, ending in repeated bouts of misery for the group. Despite this, nothing ever changes.



...the friends are teleported into the delusional land of The Shitties! It is a place where they discover (at first to their great delight), that everyone who lives there is exactly the same as they are! Callous! Overconfident! Proud! Pathetic! Happiness quickly turns to chaos as the forces of apathy, scapegoating, sarcasm, and jealousy clash against one another in a whirlwind dance of drama. Sewers back up. Toilets overflow. Neighbors engage in fistfights. And nobody does anything about it except stick out their fat lower lip and bitch. Fan-tastical-fun!

Do the friends burrow more deeply into their own schadenfreude? Or can they change their stubborn ways and escape from Shittyland before Social Security kicks in? Tune in and find out! Watch for The Shitties! to be aired on NBC during the fall 2007 season. Or, on LiveJournal all year long.

Dos Questionnes

Ladies: Have you ever given a surprise gift of flowers to a boyfriend/husband? Would you? Not for a holiday or anything, but "just because"?

Men: What is the goofiest schmoopy love name you have ever called your sweetie and NOT been punched for it? I've managed to get "my widdle wump woast" through without injury, but it was damn close.

Creepy Sea Devil

As a wee 6-year old, I remember getting seriously creeped out by Sea Devil.

The object of this 1972 arcade game was to "shoot the deadly sea devil until time runs out". Inside the machine lurked a scary-looking manta ray that tried to avoid the harpoon bullets. Once hit, the manta squealed horribly and flopped around in pain as blood spurted violently from its body. It was LOUD and graphic. Then a new manta would take its place and the carnage would continue.

Fun, huh? That's the kind of reality-awakening experience that leads to a life of Greenpeace activism.

I found this icky game at an amusement center for very young children. It was Penny Whistle Park of all places! Just imagine it: Mom dropping me off to play with clowns, circus rides, balloons, and SHRIEKING BLOODY DEVIL FISH! No way that would happen at your local Chuck E Cheese. What is the scariest thing in there today? Spongebob?

Sea Devil could only have been a product of the 1970's, a time of weird, wonderful, and frequently unpleasant surprises. Remember when your Saturday morning cartoons would be interrupted by horror movie trailers during the commercial breaks? Remember the tripped-out Krofft Supershows? Remember beauty salons when they were pink and ugly and smelled of harsh chemicals? Ah, those were the glory days of Sea Devil.

It was an inappropriate and gross game, but I remember putting a lot of quarters into it anyway. I guess I liked icky stuff. Didn't you?

Those PC vs. Mac ads

The PC guy is funny. Afraid of spyware. Confused by technology. Overwhelmed by change. Generally paranoid. In other words, a lot like most human beings.

The Apple dude? I'm at a loss. He pretty much just stands there acknowledging how wonderful he is, yet his mind seems to be somewhere else. He must be thinking about his next shopping trip to IKEA. Or his next hair and manicure appointment at Toni and Guy. Not much to say, really.

The fabulous selling of the white plastic bucket

Call me a curmudgeon, but I am now officially sick and tired of Apple's midriff-shakin', booty boppin', indie rockin', obsequiously-in-love-with-itself advertising. Look! Party in my pants! Worship my clothes! I am SUCH an individual! I have tons of MySpace friends and we're all emo!

Are we headed towards a future where all of our appliances will be the size of a thimble and painted in Dove Bar white? I think not. Last I checked, everything from bluetooth headsets to flatscreen TV's to diagnostic imaging equipment is getting the makeover treatment and not all of it is in "blandicool". Nor is it fantastically overpriced. Nor is it targeted toward gullible fashionistas with an ego complex.

Apple: Enough already. You aren't cool because you say so. You are cool because I say so. Appeal to my intelligence, please. A little is all I ask.

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