November 2008 Archives

Another installment of the Internet's least interesting new video series:

My voice is still too quiet. I'll work on that.

Her: What are you doing?
Me: Washing my old recorder. [Dries off and reassembles recorder; flawlessly executes a rendition of "Ode to Joy" learned in third grade and not played since.]
Her: I'm impressed.
Me: [Sternly points recorder at infant son.] We are getting him all kinds of music lessons. [Gently lays recorder on the counter, skulks off to bed.]

It's been a while since I posted an adorable picture of my son on this blog. So here:

Here we have the boy participating in two of his favorite pastimes: pretending to stand, and staring at something. He also likes to pretend to jump, an activity which involves more effort on the part of whichever adult is helping him do it. At this rate he's sure to inherit the tree-trunk calves of his forefathers.

As for the staring, I think he's staring at the chandelier. He likes to stare at that, an anything with stripes. It's the contrast, methinks.

Also: Sideburns.

Back in my days as an egomaniacal Squelch editor/contributor I made a few feeble attempts to bring allergy-related humor to the pages of the magazine. My food allergies have, of course, been an important part of my identity, and remain so despite the fact that many of them have mysteriously disappeared. The allergy humor, I must admit, didn't go over terribly well. First there was this much-maligned EIC column in which I attempted to set out a humorous peanut-allergic manifesto, followed some time later by this tragically introspective newsflash, which sort of encapsulates the dilemma of the allergic humorist.

After these efforts I was content to leave allergy humor behind in favor of comedic stylings that were even less accessible, all the while failing to realize the proper venue for jokes based on nut allergies. For you see, there is nothing so stupid that people won't buy it if you put it on a T-shirt:

Good to see that someone is making a go of it.

I should point out that this shirt contains an allergy joke AND a psychology joke.

I should also point out that other people have, in fact, done a better job expressing peanut allergy humor via traditional media. For example:

Apparently Werewolf was Allergic to Peanuts, from The Onion
(Crash of Thunder) from Penny Arcade
From the Desk of George Washington Carver, from the Squelch, which makes it hurt that much more. Padrick!

[Spoilers for final version of movie included.]

Mr. White: You don't know anything about QUANTUM. You probably don't even know that it stands for Quite Unkind And Nasty Terrorists United for Mayhem.
M: Wouldn't that be "QUANTUFM"?
Mr. White: No, you needn't do the "for."
M: But you did the "and."
Mr. White: NOW!
[Mitchell, QUANTUM's plant in MI6, shoots a random MI6 agent. Bond goes apeshit.]
Mr. White: Why on earth wouldn't you have shot Bond first?
Mitchell: Sorry.

Medrano: Thanks for helping me take over Bolivia and everything. What do you want in return?
Greene: Just this desert. And we get to keep whatever we find there.
Medrano: You won't find any oil. We've looked.
Henchman: Who said anything about oil? We're looking for--
[Greene elbows him sharply in the ribs.]
Henchman: Oh, right. Oil. We're looking for oil.

Greene: This is the world's most precious resource, we need to control as much of it as we can.
Bond: [Into stolen earpiece.] You guys are talking about oil, right?

[Bond, Fields, and Mathis are riding in a taxi in Bolivia. Solely for the purpose of making conversation, the chatty cabdriver complains about the price of water.]

Beam: Yeah, sure, take over Bolivia. We don't care. Just let us in on whatever oil you find.
[Greene and Henchman exchange glances and begin giggling.]
Beam: What?
Greene: Oh, nothing.
Beam: No, what? Why are you laughing? Is there something other than oil in Bolivia?
Greene: Nope. No, sir. It's all about the oil, just like always.
Felix: You're an idiot, Beam.
Beam: And you're drunk! And I'll be smart in the morning!

Camille: You lost somebody?
Bond: I did.
Camille: Was she cuter than me?
Bond: Little bit.

Bond: So what's your deal with Medrano?
Camille: Well, my father was a swordmaker. I mean, a general. And Medrano came to our house one day and killed him. He didn't kill me because I was just a kid. He just gave me these scars on my face. I mean back. Anyway, I swore I would avenge my father's death. One day I will find Medrano, and I will say to him, "Hello, my name is Camille. You keel' my fadder. Prepare to die."

Foreign Secretary: Look, we've got to work with QUANTUM. The Middle East is running out of oil and the U.S. and China are dividing up what's left.
M's Bodyguard: Excuse me, but I believe QUANTUM has made it abundantly clear that they're not interested in oil. They're obviously looking for something else.
M: Tell that to Agent Fields! Her lungs were full of oil! Oil!
M's Bodyguard: You think they could be trying to throw you off the trail?
[M and Foreign Secretary ponder this furtively.]

Medrano: Did you have any trouble setting up the hotel?
Cuervo: Nope. [Inconsequentially.] Hey, you know what? This hotel runs entirely on fuel cells. Highly volatile, extremely flammable hydrogen fuel cells.
Medrano: Sounds unstable.
Cuervo: We'll be fine as long as nobody fires a gun anywhere in or near the hotel.

[Vesper's Boyfriend walks into his dark, Russian apartment to find Bond seated and pointing a gun at him.]
Boyfriend: If you're looking for the Russian girl whose parents you killed, she's nextdoor.
Bond: Different movie.
Boyfriend: Are you sure?

Denver got its first snowfall of the season this morning, and my first snowfall ever. Dr. M snapped this picture of a corner of our back yard:

That's a little wooden fairy that someone gave us for our wedding.

I'm pleased to report that I survived my first snowy commute without incident, though I was assured by several of my coworkers that "This ain't nuthin'," so we'll see how the rest of the dark half of the year goes.

Snow!

I had another late night with the boy last night so I decided to do a send-up of another one of his toys:

Watch for a special audio guest appearance. Although the cameo may bring to mind the Japanese torture porn classic Audition, I can assure you that he makes that noise all the time and it's nothing to be concerned about.

I'm not sure if I'll actually be able to make a series out of this, but this particular toy seemed worthy of YouTube commentary.

[While watching the deplorable Gwyneth Paltrow film adaptation of Emma, during a scene in which Emma is talking to some guy on a bridge or something, probably carrying a parasol.]

Me: "Titter, titter, I'm ever so British." "I, too, am quite British." "Come, let us be British together." "Capital idea, Mrs. Pemblesbury!" "Let us speak in proper grammar!"
Her: Wouldn't that be "speak with proper grammar"?

(Not me:)

We had our first Halloween in the 'burbs last week, and the boy's first Halloween ever. Our house was overrun with trick-or-treaters young and old, and I found myself chiding older boys for not letting younger kids and/or girls get at the candy first. And somehow I'm more comfortable talking to teenage girls now than I was when I was a teenager.

Anyway, in addition to all that, cute things happened and we took pictures. First, here's the boy in one of his many Halloween outfits:

Dr. M's sister came down from the Fort to share in the Halloween revelry, and brought her dog, Riley. This did not sit well with Ruby.

Despite the fact that Riley could obviously have torn Ruby in two without breaking a sweat (or a drool, I guess, since dogs sweat through their tongues, rendering their armpits rather superfluous), Ruby refused to yield any territory and insisted on lurking near the dog to show the mongrel who was the queen of the roost.

Toward the end of the evening Ruby retreated upstairs and plotted Riley's demise from afar.

All in all it was a lot of fun, and we're looking forward to next year when Eamon can participate a little more. Also, judging by the Halloween decorations we saw in our neighborhood, our block is going to be visible from space come Christmastime.