Way, way back in 2008, I had a friend who insisted I watch Fox's discontinued series, Firefly. I refused. "Dave, the show is awesome. You'll totally love it!"
"No thanks. I don't like Star Wars or Star Trek. Space TV shows suck. Not my thing," I said, absolutely confident that I had the show pegged.
Of course, I unknowingly rented Serenity, the movie based off Firefly, and loved it. Loved it so much, in fact, that I watched the special features and learned of the Firefly connection. Then I watched Firefly, and fell in love with the show.
Then, a year later, in 2009, I mentioned this to another friend of mine, and she told me in response that I should watch Dr. Horrible's Singalong Blog. Once again, I shook my head.
"No thanks. I'm not a big fan of musicals, and I think the Neil Patrick Harris love is kind of overrated."
And, once again, I ate my words.
2010 rolled around, and another friend was amazed I hadn't seen the IT Crowd, and that I had to watch it - after all, it was pretty much the UK version of The Big Bang Theory, a show I absolutely love.
"No thanks. I'm not big on British Comedy for the most part, and shows about Nerds aren't really my thing."
My words were eaten again.
Flash forward to most of 2011, when that friend from 2008 told me I had to watch AMC's The Walking Dead - that it was a show right up my alley. And, still having not learned my lesson, I shrugged and said,
"No thanks. I've never liked Zombie movies."
Then I watched an episode (it was on in the background) and fell in love. I watched the entire series in one day. And have become thoroughly addicted to the show.
I've also realized I need to listen to my friends when they offer recommendations. This is a big revelation for me... but it also means that now I've got a LOT of TV to catch up on. The entire Buffy the Vampire Slayer series, for example. Dollhouse. Various incarnations of Dr. Who. And perhaps most frighteningly, Lost.
I have a feeling I'll have a lot of work cut out for me in 2012.
A Challenge:
Today is remembrance day. The day that we honour the veterans of the last century of warfare. The day we remember sacrifices made in the name of freedom and safety, and say "thanks".
Here's a challenge to everyone out there. Today, find five veterans, and simply tell them "Thank you". Buy them coffee if you can, shake their hands, whatever works. It doesn't have to be world war two vets in full battle regalia at the parades, either. If you see a guy in fatigues at a grocery store, say something.
Hell, let's extend it, so it's not just a military thing. Say "thanks" to people that deserve it, but rarely hear it. People that make sacrifices that are often unsung. Say "thanks" to a cop, paramedic, firefighter, nurse, soldier, whatever.
That's your challenge for the day. If you're up to it.
Here's a challenge to everyone out there. Today, find five veterans, and simply tell them "Thank you". Buy them coffee if you can, shake their hands, whatever works. It doesn't have to be world war two vets in full battle regalia at the parades, either. If you see a guy in fatigues at a grocery store, say something.
Hell, let's extend it, so it's not just a military thing. Say "thanks" to people that deserve it, but rarely hear it. People that make sacrifices that are often unsung. Say "thanks" to a cop, paramedic, firefighter, nurse, soldier, whatever.
That's your challenge for the day. If you're up to it.
Weekly Haiku #69 - Ponder this
there's only eight notes
to fill a thousand albums
million words... few thoughts.
Me being an asshole, the science of ghosts, and a firefly quote:
I'm an asshole. I'm also an atheist, and a skeptic.
These three things, when combined, are a very, very bad combination.
Case in point. I'm listening to a woman describe how she is studying to become an investigator for the paranormal. Her goal is to help people exorcize and remove the ghosts that plague homes. Because, apparently, ghosts are more common on the coast (who knew?).
I sighed, and after listening to her go on and on about the "science" of ghosts, offered a solution.
"I know a surefire way to get rid of any ghosts in your house," I said, taking a sip of coffee.
"Oh? How?"
"Weatherproof your fucking house."
She did not find this amusing. But I laughed. To quote a bearded fellow from a certain episode of Firefly: "I cannot abide stupid people."
These three things, when combined, are a very, very bad combination.
Case in point. I'm listening to a woman describe how she is studying to become an investigator for the paranormal. Her goal is to help people exorcize and remove the ghosts that plague homes. Because, apparently, ghosts are more common on the coast (who knew?).
I sighed, and after listening to her go on and on about the "science" of ghosts, offered a solution.
"I know a surefire way to get rid of any ghosts in your house," I said, taking a sip of coffee.
"Oh? How?"
"Weatherproof your fucking house."
She did not find this amusing. But I laughed. To quote a bearded fellow from a certain episode of Firefly: "I cannot abide stupid people."
I'm young
I shaved the beard.
This was probably a mistake.
Even when I had the beard, people thought I was a lot younger than I really am. They would guess I was twenty three, or twenty four, when in reality, I'm much closer to thirty (I'm twenty-eight).
Then I shaved the beard, a few days before halloween.
In the last week, I've suffered through the following:
This was probably a mistake.
Even when I had the beard, people thought I was a lot younger than I really am. They would guess I was twenty three, or twenty four, when in reality, I'm much closer to thirty (I'm twenty-eight).
Then I shaved the beard, a few days before halloween.
In the last week, I've suffered through the following:
- During a first aid course, a guy told me about his recent nineteenth birthday. He concluded a rather stereotypical story with an interested "Are you nineteen yet? What are you going to do for your birthday?". Sigh.
- I was called in to work a shift at a different store location than my "home" store. At the end of the shift, a girl I had been talking to throughout the night (who told me she was eighteen) asked me if she could buy me coffee, and then batted morse code with her eyelashes at me. I told her I'd prefer to stay unarrested, thankyouverymuch.
- An older lady told me yesterday that I was "too young to know how long a foot is". I don't really know what she meant by that. Because unless something's changed, a foot has been twelve inches for several centuries, has it not?
A Moody Post
Things have been rather rough the last year, but I'm not so self-centred that I fail to see when shit happens to other people.
In October, a co-worker of mine had probably the worst month of his life. He was diagnosed with Diabetes, he was mugged, and saw (along with everyone else) his hours get cut back. And yet I watched as he'd shrug, and keep on moving forward.
Something I can identify with, absolutely.
But I find myself thinking - is anyone enjoying this goddamn year? Does anyone else find themselves looking forward to 2012, end of the world or not?
In October, a co-worker of mine had probably the worst month of his life. He was diagnosed with Diabetes, he was mugged, and saw (along with everyone else) his hours get cut back. And yet I watched as he'd shrug, and keep on moving forward.
Something I can identify with, absolutely.
But I find myself thinking - is anyone enjoying this goddamn year? Does anyone else find themselves looking forward to 2012, end of the world or not?
The Housecoat:
I moved into this bachelor pad about three months ago. Since it apparently takes me more than three months to unpack all my stuff, there are still boxes in my apartment. The funny thing is, I'm moving again, so it seems like some of my stuff is already packed.
This would be a good thing. Except, I'm an idiot.
I've unpacked much of what was already packed, simply so I can have the vicarious thrill of packing it again. This is what a dog must feel like when he eats his own barf.
(Yeah, I just compared unpacking stuff and then instantly repacking it to a dog eating his own vomit. If any of you are wondering why I'm single after reading a sentence like that... please post your phone number and a recent photograph in the comments section, because I would like to meet you.)
Anyways, while unpacking all my old shit, I discovered an old friend. And like the good friend that he is, he was protecting my old nintendo from damage. Yes, wrapped around my ancient NES was that rarest of rares - the comfy, worn-in housecoat.
For those that don't know, the housecoat is sort of like an accessory for lazy shut-ins. It is a vital piece of wardrobe for bachelors and the socially inept, a costume necessity in much the same way that superheroes require capes, chefs require absurd hats, the french require striped shirts, and mullet people require wrestling t-shirts.
Wearing a housecoat, shut-ins such as myself are well suited for picking up the mail wearing nothing else but shorts and wool socks. They are fit for cleaning up minor spills while cooking without having to get a cloth. And, if they're at all like me, they never have to worry about finding their capo or a spare pick while they play guitar, because not only is the housecoat super comfy - it also has pockets, yo.
Alas, the coat had a darkside, too - as anyone who has seen The Big Lebowski knows, frequent wearing of the housecoat inevitably leads to someone pissing all over your rug, both metaphorically and literally speaking. And so I put it away, for bigger and better things.
Not that it lasted. Because here I am again, wearing that old wardrobe necessity, feeling like some sort of flannel superhero. And, like any house-coat hero, I've completely put off packing in favour of sitting in front of the computer.
This would be a good thing. Except, I'm an idiot.
I've unpacked much of what was already packed, simply so I can have the vicarious thrill of packing it again. This is what a dog must feel like when he eats his own barf.
(Yeah, I just compared unpacking stuff and then instantly repacking it to a dog eating his own vomit. If any of you are wondering why I'm single after reading a sentence like that... please post your phone number and a recent photograph in the comments section, because I would like to meet you.)
Anyways, while unpacking all my old shit, I discovered an old friend. And like the good friend that he is, he was protecting my old nintendo from damage. Yes, wrapped around my ancient NES was that rarest of rares - the comfy, worn-in housecoat.
For those that don't know, the housecoat is sort of like an accessory for lazy shut-ins. It is a vital piece of wardrobe for bachelors and the socially inept, a costume necessity in much the same way that superheroes require capes, chefs require absurd hats, the french require striped shirts, and mullet people require wrestling t-shirts.
Wearing a housecoat, shut-ins such as myself are well suited for picking up the mail wearing nothing else but shorts and wool socks. They are fit for cleaning up minor spills while cooking without having to get a cloth. And, if they're at all like me, they never have to worry about finding their capo or a spare pick while they play guitar, because not only is the housecoat super comfy - it also has pockets, yo.
Alas, the coat had a darkside, too - as anyone who has seen The Big Lebowski knows, frequent wearing of the housecoat inevitably leads to someone pissing all over your rug, both metaphorically and literally speaking. And so I put it away, for bigger and better things.
Not that it lasted. Because here I am again, wearing that old wardrobe necessity, feeling like some sort of flannel superhero. And, like any house-coat hero, I've completely put off packing in favour of sitting in front of the computer.
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