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Short cuts
Sep. 22nd, 2005 03:01 pm(Don't) Walk This Way Every day I walk across a four-lane street with a median on my way to the metro. I usually don't wait for the WALK sign, since a.m. traffic is light and I can always pause at the median. I had never given much thought to this until the other day when I noticed that the corner of my apartment driveway is now an elementary school bus stop. And every morning these kids see me walking right out into the middle of the street without even looking both ways (since I cross the southbound lane, stop, and then cross the northbound lane). Sometimes there are even parents there, and I imagine them saying, "Don't ever do what that man is doing. He's a bad person." The guilt is getting to me.
People ask this question all the time, and now you have the right answer: Who's the man? Paul Newman.
I thought siren songs were supposed to be pleasant. What's the deal with emergency vehicle operators who, instead of just turning the siren on and letting it run, decide to turn it off-and-on-and-off-and-on so that it sounds like blooop-blooop-blooop, ad infinitum. Is this a case of a broken siren? Or are they just tired of the same old siren sound?
Updating one of our top stories, I will indeed be heading to the ROC for my high school reunion, and to save money I'll be flying in on Thanksgiving day. So, thanks to everyone who offered to host me for Thanksgiving dinner – sincerely, thank you – but I'll be feasting on pretzels and a complimentary USAirways beverage.
Ten-second movie reviews
Crash: Best movie of 2005 so far.
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind: delicious mindfuck, on methamphetamines.
21 Grams: delicious mindfuck, on Quaaludes.
Prozac Nation: Took an manic, obnoxious, arrogant, excruciatingly whiny book and made it into a boring movie.
Collateral: I don't want to give away the ending here, but I'll say two things: I liked this movie, and I hate Tom Cruise.
The Great Escape: One of the greatest, coolest, ass-kickingest Guy Movies ever, even if Richard Attenborough is a total pussy.
The Terminal: Not bad, but will someone explain to me the appeal of Catherine Zeta Jones? I don't get it. Also: best closing credits ever.
The Aristocrats: Two minutes of nausea to every one minute of laughter. Enter at your own risk.
Want to donate money to Hurricane Katrina relief but don't feel like flushing your dough down the Red Cross Toilet of Bureaucracy? I'm giving all my good karma to the New Orleans Musicians' Clinic, a non-profit partnership that provides free health care to area musicians who don't have health insurance.
People ask this question all the time, and now you have the right answer: Who's the man? Paul Newman.
I thought siren songs were supposed to be pleasant. What's the deal with emergency vehicle operators who, instead of just turning the siren on and letting it run, decide to turn it off-and-on-and-off-and-on so that it sounds like blooop-blooop-blooop, ad infinitum. Is this a case of a broken siren? Or are they just tired of the same old siren sound?
Updating one of our top stories, I will indeed be heading to the ROC for my high school reunion, and to save money I'll be flying in on Thanksgiving day. So, thanks to everyone who offered to host me for Thanksgiving dinner – sincerely, thank you – but I'll be feasting on pretzels and a complimentary USAirways beverage.
Ten-second movie reviews
Crash: Best movie of 2005 so far.
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind: delicious mindfuck, on methamphetamines.
21 Grams: delicious mindfuck, on Quaaludes.
Prozac Nation: Took an manic, obnoxious, arrogant, excruciatingly whiny book and made it into a boring movie.
Collateral: I don't want to give away the ending here, but I'll say two things: I liked this movie, and I hate Tom Cruise.
The Great Escape: One of the greatest, coolest, ass-kickingest Guy Movies ever, even if Richard Attenborough is a total pussy.
The Terminal: Not bad, but will someone explain to me the appeal of Catherine Zeta Jones? I don't get it. Also: best closing credits ever.
The Aristocrats: Two minutes of nausea to every one minute of laughter. Enter at your own risk.
Want to donate money to Hurricane Katrina relief but don't feel like flushing your dough down the Red Cross Toilet of Bureaucracy? I'm giving all my good karma to the New Orleans Musicians' Clinic, a non-profit partnership that provides free health care to area musicians who don't have health insurance.
