I updated this so now both parts are included.
part one:
and part two:
Friday, August 21, 2009
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Review: Ponyo
"Ponyo" makes no sense at all, which is just how it should be for a Hayao Miyazaki movie. His ethereal films move with the sensible illogic of childhood dreams, and are powerful enough to revert you to the state of a 7-year-old as you watch.
That said, I'm not heads over heels in love with any of his stuff save for "Howl's Moving Castle." His movies tend to enrapture me in the beginning and lose me somewhere in the middle as they follow their hyperactive arcs. At that point I start hanging on for dear life, appreciating what I can and checking my cell phone clock more often than I should.
"Ponyo" was par for the Miyazaki course - loopy, silly and funny in points while still able to knock you over the head with deep human truths. His twisted version of "Finding Nemo" meets "Splash," the movie won't go down as one of his best, but it's still better than 90 percent of animation out there.
Ponyo is a Teletubby-like fish with a human baby face who gets stuck in a piece of trash - as Miyazaki ages he leans more and more environmentalist - and washes ashore, where a 5-year-old boy picks her up and keeps her as a pet. His adoring, supportive mother isn't quite sure whether it's wise to keep Ponyo around, but the boy is in instant love and values Ponyo more than just about everything in his life. The mother probably senses that if she were to take Ponyo away, she'd sever a part of her son's soul.
The kid does all he can to protect Ponyo from an uncaring world, dashing away from kindergarten so he can check on her (he places her in bushes widely just outside school property, subverting the school rule that pets aren't allowed on campus) and fending off interested classmates. But there's no defending against elemental water monsters that crawl out of the ocean, engulf your island in a mini-tsunami and take human-faced magic fishies back home. The boy and Ponyo are parted, heartbreakingly just after Ponyo has finally learned to talk, using her first words to declare her eternal love for the boy.
To explain any more of the plot would only make me sound like a rambling idiot while robbing the movie of its joyfully perilous meanderings, but know that the separation doesn't last long, and soon Ponyo, who proves to have magical powers to transform into a human, make things bigger and heal wounds by licking them, joins the boy on a dangerous journey to find someone both of them love.
Spoiler alert - at the end of the movie, the boy has to vow to always love Ponyo, pretty much agreeing to marry her. I love the way Miyazaki handles this. The boy is understandably a little non-committal about the whole thing, perhaps second-guessing himself after he agrees to the setup by not exactly leaping to symbolically cement the love with a kiss, but Ponyo just sort of steals it from him anyway, and you could swear the boy is suppressing some doubt in the back of his mind. Maybe he's thinking, "Hold up, dude. What if I ever meet another hotter, younger fish-chick? What then?" But by then he's already bought the cow. Such is life in the world of Miyazaki.
That said, I'm not heads over heels in love with any of his stuff save for "Howl's Moving Castle." His movies tend to enrapture me in the beginning and lose me somewhere in the middle as they follow their hyperactive arcs. At that point I start hanging on for dear life, appreciating what I can and checking my cell phone clock more often than I should.
"Ponyo" was par for the Miyazaki course - loopy, silly and funny in points while still able to knock you over the head with deep human truths. His twisted version of "Finding Nemo" meets "Splash," the movie won't go down as one of his best, but it's still better than 90 percent of animation out there.
Ponyo is a Teletubby-like fish with a human baby face who gets stuck in a piece of trash - as Miyazaki ages he leans more and more environmentalist - and washes ashore, where a 5-year-old boy picks her up and keeps her as a pet. His adoring, supportive mother isn't quite sure whether it's wise to keep Ponyo around, but the boy is in instant love and values Ponyo more than just about everything in his life. The mother probably senses that if she were to take Ponyo away, she'd sever a part of her son's soul.
The kid does all he can to protect Ponyo from an uncaring world, dashing away from kindergarten so he can check on her (he places her in bushes widely just outside school property, subverting the school rule that pets aren't allowed on campus) and fending off interested classmates. But there's no defending against elemental water monsters that crawl out of the ocean, engulf your island in a mini-tsunami and take human-faced magic fishies back home. The boy and Ponyo are parted, heartbreakingly just after Ponyo has finally learned to talk, using her first words to declare her eternal love for the boy.
To explain any more of the plot would only make me sound like a rambling idiot while robbing the movie of its joyfully perilous meanderings, but know that the separation doesn't last long, and soon Ponyo, who proves to have magical powers to transform into a human, make things bigger and heal wounds by licking them, joins the boy on a dangerous journey to find someone both of them love.
Spoiler alert - at the end of the movie, the boy has to vow to always love Ponyo, pretty much agreeing to marry her. I love the way Miyazaki handles this. The boy is understandably a little non-committal about the whole thing, perhaps second-guessing himself after he agrees to the setup by not exactly leaping to symbolically cement the love with a kiss, but Ponyo just sort of steals it from him anyway, and you could swear the boy is suppressing some doubt in the back of his mind. Maybe he's thinking, "Hold up, dude. What if I ever meet another hotter, younger fish-chick? What then?" But by then he's already bought the cow. Such is life in the world of Miyazaki.
Friday, August 07, 2009
How I became a lumberjack
It all started with an HOA letter several weeks ago telling me the tree was in violation because my giant palo verde tree, which resembles the plant-monster in Little Shop of Horrors although it grows much faster, loomed over the sidewalk.
Since then every garbage day I've been chipping away at it, using extending clippers to snip off branches, filling the garbage can with foliage twice a week.
Wednesday was particularly windy. I reached the clippers way up high and got the pull-string all tangled up in spikes and branches. It would not come out. I got a ladder out, and it nearly blew down and killed me. I had to get to the base of the colossal branch which was accessible if I unsafely stood on top of the handrail
so I got this dinky hacksaw out that looks like it's a Fisher-Price toy and went to work. It took me more than an hour and I sustained several injuries, but I triumphed over the tree.
Since then every garbage day I've been chipping away at it, using extending clippers to snip off branches, filling the garbage can with foliage twice a week.
Wednesday was particularly windy. I reached the clippers way up high and got the pull-string all tangled up in spikes and branches. It would not come out. I got a ladder out, and it nearly blew down and killed me. I had to get to the base of the colossal branch which was accessible if I unsafely stood on top of the handrail
so I got this dinky hacksaw out that looks like it's a Fisher-Price toy and went to work. It took me more than an hour and I sustained several injuries, but I triumphed over the tree.
Sunday, August 02, 2009
Review: (500) Days of Summer
"I must warn you. This is not a love story," or something like that, is one of the first lines in (500) Days of Summer. It's said by the narrator, and he's so right. This is not a love story. It's so much better than that.
What the hilarious, genius-level drama is about is infatuation. It's about Tom, a poor lost soul played by Joseph Gordon-Levitt who's convinced himself that the love of a coworker on which he's fixated will solve all his ills. That it will be the opiate that helps him to forget the fact that he hates his job, his life, himself. He wants to orbit Summer (Zooey Deschanel) and draw closer and closer to her omnipotent incandescence and vanish into her, give up on himself and become a part of her.
It's pathetic, everyone around him, including his smartass little sister can see it, especially Summer, who tolerates him for a few months only because she thinks he's cute, likes some of the same music she does and is willing to play silly exhibitionist games in public that would embarrass 90 percent of a potential boyfriend pool she's deemed too small.
Of course I rooted for Tom to defy the narrator's declaration of fate, Summer's disinterest and the writers' precise designs themselves to find his bliss with Summer. Because first-time-filmmaker, long-time music videomaker Marc Webb and his fantastic screenwriters do such a great job of making you fall in love with her right along with Tom (Not that it takes a heck of a lot of convincing once they cast the incomparable Deschanel in the role). Also, we've all been there before, locked in an unrequited love, scanning the offending, oblivious angel for voodoo signs of longed-for interest that just aren't really there. Most of us get off easier than poor Tom because our crushes just ignore us. But Summer is bored enough to take a flier on him, pushing him into a semi-exclusive affair even when she confronts him and he's too sheepish to admit that he likes her as more than a friend.
This is one of those rare movies that lulls you in with laughter, longing and armrest-squeezing angst down a certain path before slyly slipping in a few revelations that turn the plot on its head and make you consider that maybe you've been watching the whole thing the wrong way, and that you'll need to give it a fresh look someday when you find it on DVD, or maybe next weekend. Or maybe in half an hour. I loved the movie so much I would have sat eagerly while they re-spooled it and gave it another go. The second time around you'd see things the right way. That's what Tom is thinking so the thought enters your head as well. He was in love not with Summer, but the idea of being in love. At the end of the film it's not that he hates her, but that she helped reveal to him his silly second-adolescence fantasy never really existed. Tom is unlovable because he gave up on himself.
It's no surprise that IMDB voters have already lifted it into the top 250 movies ever made, because it gives you so damned much to love!
The dialogue has the cleverness of Juno melded with the honesty of Once and Before Sunrise/Sunset. The characters don't quite talk the way real people do, nor do they seem like their words are test-tube babies cooked up in a screenwriting lab.
The sequence in which Tom and Summer play house inside an IKEA is just perfection. They shoul cut the sound from that clip and sell it as a single for iPods. It's iconic and everlasting, like Rocky sprinting up the Philadelphia Museum of Art steps with pumping arms raised. It's the Death Star blowing up. It's the characters in Band of Outsiders sprinting through the Louvre. And the IKEA moment is barely better than any other 5-minute stretch in the film.
The novel-like construction and time-skipping plays out perfectly, alternating from fleeting moments of bliss in the earlier days, onto the agony and despair of the latter days, then back again. There is rhyme and reason to the way the story is told. You're literally inside Tom's head, sulking unshaven, crying into your pillow, thinking back as to what convinced you this thing with Summer would work out, only to allow your cruel memory to jerk you back into reality -- it's a violent, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind-like debate.
Look, here I am a million paragraphs into the review and I've made the movie sound so serious. The fact is it's incredibly funny, often inappropriately so, which makes it all the better. There are levels to the humor. At any given moment a third of the theater was laughing at one thing the others missed, only to have another third laugh at the next thing. You could read the entire film as a comedy, all the way up to the stinging final line, which is one of the rare universal howlers in the film.
The narrator -- can't find the guy's name -- is the one who pushes the movie from excellence to greatness. And the performances are pitch-perfect, because Gordon-Levitt and Deschanel don't so much act as play themselves, or at least the same characters both always play in every movie they're in. Deschanel, or maybe someone who sounds just like her, sings throughout soundtrack. At first I found the inclusion of the She & Him music to be a little too cute, but midway through the film I was fine with it. And by the end I think the choice to have Deschanel or a voice-clone sing the soundtrack was the only one possible. If the idealized Summer is haunting Tom's every thought, why not have someone who sings with her voice haunting his subconscious as he recollects his 500 wasted days?
Lord, do I love this movie. Walking out of the theater I felt just as staggered as after I watched Before Sunset and Once. It's a romantic anti-romance, a self-help video, 96 minutes of stand-up comedy and escapist bliss. It's a movie that makes me wish I were still a film critic so I could beg tens of thousands of readers to see it rather just the few who will read this post.
What the hilarious, genius-level drama is about is infatuation. It's about Tom, a poor lost soul played by Joseph Gordon-Levitt who's convinced himself that the love of a coworker on which he's fixated will solve all his ills. That it will be the opiate that helps him to forget the fact that he hates his job, his life, himself. He wants to orbit Summer (Zooey Deschanel) and draw closer and closer to her omnipotent incandescence and vanish into her, give up on himself and become a part of her.
It's pathetic, everyone around him, including his smartass little sister can see it, especially Summer, who tolerates him for a few months only because she thinks he's cute, likes some of the same music she does and is willing to play silly exhibitionist games in public that would embarrass 90 percent of a potential boyfriend pool she's deemed too small.
Of course I rooted for Tom to defy the narrator's declaration of fate, Summer's disinterest and the writers' precise designs themselves to find his bliss with Summer. Because first-time-filmmaker, long-time music videomaker Marc Webb and his fantastic screenwriters do such a great job of making you fall in love with her right along with Tom (Not that it takes a heck of a lot of convincing once they cast the incomparable Deschanel in the role). Also, we've all been there before, locked in an unrequited love, scanning the offending, oblivious angel for voodoo signs of longed-for interest that just aren't really there. Most of us get off easier than poor Tom because our crushes just ignore us. But Summer is bored enough to take a flier on him, pushing him into a semi-exclusive affair even when she confronts him and he's too sheepish to admit that he likes her as more than a friend.
This is one of those rare movies that lulls you in with laughter, longing and armrest-squeezing angst down a certain path before slyly slipping in a few revelations that turn the plot on its head and make you consider that maybe you've been watching the whole thing the wrong way, and that you'll need to give it a fresh look someday when you find it on DVD, or maybe next weekend. Or maybe in half an hour. I loved the movie so much I would have sat eagerly while they re-spooled it and gave it another go. The second time around you'd see things the right way. That's what Tom is thinking so the thought enters your head as well. He was in love not with Summer, but the idea of being in love. At the end of the film it's not that he hates her, but that she helped reveal to him his silly second-adolescence fantasy never really existed. Tom is unlovable because he gave up on himself.
It's no surprise that IMDB voters have already lifted it into the top 250 movies ever made, because it gives you so damned much to love!
The dialogue has the cleverness of Juno melded with the honesty of Once and Before Sunrise/Sunset. The characters don't quite talk the way real people do, nor do they seem like their words are test-tube babies cooked up in a screenwriting lab.
The sequence in which Tom and Summer play house inside an IKEA is just perfection. They shoul cut the sound from that clip and sell it as a single for iPods. It's iconic and everlasting, like Rocky sprinting up the Philadelphia Museum of Art steps with pumping arms raised. It's the Death Star blowing up. It's the characters in Band of Outsiders sprinting through the Louvre. And the IKEA moment is barely better than any other 5-minute stretch in the film.
The novel-like construction and time-skipping plays out perfectly, alternating from fleeting moments of bliss in the earlier days, onto the agony and despair of the latter days, then back again. There is rhyme and reason to the way the story is told. You're literally inside Tom's head, sulking unshaven, crying into your pillow, thinking back as to what convinced you this thing with Summer would work out, only to allow your cruel memory to jerk you back into reality -- it's a violent, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind-like debate.
Look, here I am a million paragraphs into the review and I've made the movie sound so serious. The fact is it's incredibly funny, often inappropriately so, which makes it all the better. There are levels to the humor. At any given moment a third of the theater was laughing at one thing the others missed, only to have another third laugh at the next thing. You could read the entire film as a comedy, all the way up to the stinging final line, which is one of the rare universal howlers in the film.
The narrator -- can't find the guy's name -- is the one who pushes the movie from excellence to greatness. And the performances are pitch-perfect, because Gordon-Levitt and Deschanel don't so much act as play themselves, or at least the same characters both always play in every movie they're in. Deschanel, or maybe someone who sounds just like her, sings throughout soundtrack. At first I found the inclusion of the She & Him music to be a little too cute, but midway through the film I was fine with it. And by the end I think the choice to have Deschanel or a voice-clone sing the soundtrack was the only one possible. If the idealized Summer is haunting Tom's every thought, why not have someone who sings with her voice haunting his subconscious as he recollects his 500 wasted days?
Lord, do I love this movie. Walking out of the theater I felt just as staggered as after I watched Before Sunset and Once. It's a romantic anti-romance, a self-help video, 96 minutes of stand-up comedy and escapist bliss. It's a movie that makes me wish I were still a film critic so I could beg tens of thousands of readers to see it rather just the few who will read this post.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Too Hot For TV: The Costco-Sam's Club Two-Step
In a miniseries I've dubbed "Too Hot for TV," I'll be sharing the tips that my editors didn't allow in the final version of my book. Today's tip is called The Costco-Sam's Clube Two-Step:
Glory be to any business with a no-questions-asked, no time limit, full money back guarantee. Both warehouse wholesaler giants Costco and Sam’s Club will refund your annual membership fee at any time and for any reason. I choose my refund time as the day before my membership is set to expire, and my reason as the sudden urge to join up with its competitor. After nearly a year has passed, I run the same game at the other place and go back to where I started. Think of Costco and Sam’s Club as your own personal Betty and Veronica, then ask yourself the question that always eluded
Archie – why choose when both are equally lovely and willing to take turns?
Annual memberships at both places run more than $50, and grant you access to what seems like square miles of amazing deals. Just don’t fall into the trap of over-buying stuff you don’t need, such as that 10-gallon tub of peanut butter.
What’s great about Club/Costco is that even if you don’t follow my insidious advice, memberships can easily pay for themselves in just a couple months, and even provide you a source of alternate income. Tapping the businesses makes for excellent resale opportunities, whether you’re fundraising for a school, club or yourself. You can find candy bars and sodas for less than 20 cents apiece and sell them for far more than double that amount at yard sales or community sporting events.
Savings on gas is also a hefty bonus, with prices per gallon nearly always running a few cents per gallon cheaper than the lowest-priced outside gas station.
One thing that annoys me is how paranoid both places are, automatically accusing every customer of shoplifting and refusing to let them out of the store unless they submit to a grocery cart eyeballing and receipt scan. What are they thinking? Of all the customer bases most likely to rip a business off, the Costco/Sam’s Clubsters who actually pay for the very privilege of being allowed to step inside the cavernous stores would seem to be the least likely.
One of these trips I’m going to sprint out of Costco after I buy my stuff and see if anyone tries to chase me down. I hope they tackle me, pin me to the ground while they check to see what I stole, then after they discover I’m clean, apologize profusely with free coupons for hundreds of dollars worth of groceries, which I would gladly accept before pursuing a lawsuit against them. And then I’d use false arrest as my reason for asking for a full membership refund before flipping to Sam’s Club and starting the process over again.
Glory be to any business with a no-questions-asked, no time limit, full money back guarantee. Both warehouse wholesaler giants Costco and Sam’s Club will refund your annual membership fee at any time and for any reason. I choose my refund time as the day before my membership is set to expire, and my reason as the sudden urge to join up with its competitor. After nearly a year has passed, I run the same game at the other place and go back to where I started. Think of Costco and Sam’s Club as your own personal Betty and Veronica, then ask yourself the question that always eluded
Archie – why choose when both are equally lovely and willing to take turns?
Annual memberships at both places run more than $50, and grant you access to what seems like square miles of amazing deals. Just don’t fall into the trap of over-buying stuff you don’t need, such as that 10-gallon tub of peanut butter.
What’s great about Club/Costco is that even if you don’t follow my insidious advice, memberships can easily pay for themselves in just a couple months, and even provide you a source of alternate income. Tapping the businesses makes for excellent resale opportunities, whether you’re fundraising for a school, club or yourself. You can find candy bars and sodas for less than 20 cents apiece and sell them for far more than double that amount at yard sales or community sporting events.
Savings on gas is also a hefty bonus, with prices per gallon nearly always running a few cents per gallon cheaper than the lowest-priced outside gas station.
One thing that annoys me is how paranoid both places are, automatically accusing every customer of shoplifting and refusing to let them out of the store unless they submit to a grocery cart eyeballing and receipt scan. What are they thinking? Of all the customer bases most likely to rip a business off, the Costco/Sam’s Clubsters who actually pay for the very privilege of being allowed to step inside the cavernous stores would seem to be the least likely.
One of these trips I’m going to sprint out of Costco after I buy my stuff and see if anyone tries to chase me down. I hope they tackle me, pin me to the ground while they check to see what I stole, then after they discover I’m clean, apologize profusely with free coupons for hundreds of dollars worth of groceries, which I would gladly accept before pursuing a lawsuit against them. And then I’d use false arrest as my reason for asking for a full membership refund before flipping to Sam’s Club and starting the process over again.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Litte Bit Time
Luke heard the song "Live and Let Die" today in "Shrek 3" and interpreted the lyrics as "Little Bit Time," then proceeded to rock out to his newfound favorite song, which is a vast improvement over the original. Incidentally, this is not one of his Weird Al-style song paraodies, which include the lyrics "Yo-ho, yo-ho, a robot's life for me" and "Yo-ho, yo-ho, a pirate's life for robot."
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
I am tracking down my friend's Wii
My friend's Wii was stolen from his house during a break-in a few weeks ago. Since he was my Wii friend, I e-mailed my friend, who was now the thief or someone the thief sold the Wii to, and told him he was a bastard because he stole my friend's Wii.
The guy wrote back tonight telling me he bought it from a pawn shop. So it turns out the thief was dumb enough to take it to a place that's required by law to take a record of the pawned item and its serial number. This guy is going down because my friend can give the serial number to the police even if the current owner of his stolen Wii doesn't cooperate.
The guy wrote back tonight telling me he bought it from a pawn shop. So it turns out the thief was dumb enough to take it to a place that's required by law to take a record of the pawned item and its serial number. This guy is going down because my friend can give the serial number to the police even if the current owner of his stolen Wii doesn't cooperate.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Luke will grow up to be a comedian
Today when I was giving him a bath he took the shampoo bottle, placed it between his legs and said "Look, I have a huge penis!" He's only 2 and already an ace with the improv. A little Richard Pryor, this one.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Stormin' Mormon is a reasonable price now, for once
My novel Stormin' Mormon is now $6.99 on PublishAmerica.com. You'll have to type the title into the search box, and don't forget the apostrophe. If you are absolutely crazy and rich, you can opt for the hardcover for $30. Sadly I might break my own rule about not ordering one of those books myself and actually order buy a hardcover because I don't own one.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
That's Enough, Van Wilder Makers
No more awful sequels/prequels ever. Stand over there with the American Pie and Bring it On franchises and just stop. Please. Unless you can ever get Ryan Reynolds back.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Seth Rogen and John Goodman
They both sounds exactly the same. Which is the voice of giant, one-eyed monsters. I came to this conclusion through extensive research, studying Monsters Inc. and Monsters vs. Aliens.
Monday, July 06, 2009
Secrets of a Stingy Scoundrel signings schedule
Catch the magic at these places and times. Hopefully more to come.
7 p.m. Sept. 10 – Barnes & Noble, 10500 N. 90th Street, Scottsdale, AZ
7 p.m. Sept. 11 – Barnes & Noble, 5130 E. Broadway, Tucson, AZ
4:30 p.m. Sept. 29 – University of Arizona BookStore, 1209 E. University Blvd. Tucson, AZ
7 p.m. Sept. 10 – Barnes & Noble, 10500 N. 90th Street, Scottsdale, AZ
7 p.m. Sept. 11 – Barnes & Noble, 5130 E. Broadway, Tucson, AZ
4:30 p.m. Sept. 29 – University of Arizona BookStore, 1209 E. University Blvd. Tucson, AZ
Sunday, July 05, 2009
Scottsdale Signing Sept. 10
I nailed down another signing - my first chronologically. 7 p.m. Thursday, Sept. 10 at the Scottsdale Barnes & Noble. I feel so happy for everyone in Scottsdale that they'll finally get the thrill of being able to not only buy a book by me but get my personal autograph and even shake my hand, all in the same day!
Wednesday, July 01, 2009
Grace
It makes no sense to thank God for food, because you got that food yourself. The rebuttal to this is God gave you the means to get the food. He allowed the sun and water to nourish the wheat that would turn into your bread. Yadda yadda. But to thank God for your food is also to assign blame to him for its content. What if it tastes bad? What if there's salmonella or botulism in there? Does that mean God poisoned you?
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Advance praise for Secrets of a Stingy Scoundrel
"This book not only pays for itself within the first few chapters, but Phil unearths ways to subvert the scams of cellular companies. Eye-opening at the very least, this money-saving manuscript is less an ode to parsimoniousness, and more a call to arms."
-Maddox (George Ouzounian), author of New York Times Bestseller “The Alphabet of Manliness”
“Phil is a devious mastermind. He'd be the Lex Luthor of tightwads if Lex Luthor was hilarious. Most of the advice in this book will at best destroy your treasured personal relationships and at worst get your butt kicked, but that doesn't take away from the fact that it is awesome. If you've ever done something cheap and blushed slightly, you'll be gratified to know that not only is there someone else doing that exact cheap thing -- he's perfected a system and is willing to share his knowledge with a grateful public.
“Not only did Phil get me to write this blurb for him, he also convinced me to give him $20 from my wallet.”
-Meghann Marco, author of “Field Guide to the Apocalypse: Movie Survival Skills for the End of the World”
“Phil Villarreal is one cheap bastard, but fortunately he's not stingy with his words. A flabbergasting and funny book from cover to cover."
-Mark Jude Poirier, author of “Modern Ranch Living” and “Goats,” screenwriter of “Smart People.”
“Read this book for free, one item at a time, over 100 days, at your local chain bookstore—while there are still chain bookstores, and there won’t be if all you do is read their books for free. Or, hell, get over your stinginess this one time only and buy the damned thing, because one way or another, this amusing, smart, and sensible book deserves your (free) time.”
-Chris Ryall, author of “Comic Books 101”
-Maddox (George Ouzounian), author of New York Times Bestseller “The Alphabet of Manliness”
“Phil is a devious mastermind. He'd be the Lex Luthor of tightwads if Lex Luthor was hilarious. Most of the advice in this book will at best destroy your treasured personal relationships and at worst get your butt kicked, but that doesn't take away from the fact that it is awesome. If you've ever done something cheap and blushed slightly, you'll be gratified to know that not only is there someone else doing that exact cheap thing -- he's perfected a system and is willing to share his knowledge with a grateful public.
“Not only did Phil get me to write this blurb for him, he also convinced me to give him $20 from my wallet.”
-Meghann Marco, author of “Field Guide to the Apocalypse: Movie Survival Skills for the End of the World”
“Phil Villarreal is one cheap bastard, but fortunately he's not stingy with his words. A flabbergasting and funny book from cover to cover."
-Mark Jude Poirier, author of “Modern Ranch Living” and “Goats,” screenwriter of “Smart People.”
“Read this book for free, one item at a time, over 100 days, at your local chain bookstore—while there are still chain bookstores, and there won’t be if all you do is read their books for free. Or, hell, get over your stinginess this one time only and buy the damned thing, because one way or another, this amusing, smart, and sensible book deserves your (free) time.”
-Chris Ryall, author of “Comic Books 101”
New signing
7 p.m. Sept. 11 at the East Side Barnes & Noble, 5130 E. Broadway. This will be the first signing, followed by one at the UA Bookstore Sept. 29. Be there!
Friday, June 12, 2009
Slimer
Just what creature did Slimer from Ghostbusters used to be? No living thing looks anything like that. I think he was just born a weird, adorable green ghost.
Saturday, June 06, 2009
Friday, June 05, 2009
A good way to almost crash your car
Is to get less than 4 hours of sleep for five consecutive nights, spend 9 hours at Disneyland with a 2 year old and 3 month old, then drive 400 miles at night.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Damn you, Wii
Why you gotta go disc read error on me when I'm about to finish defending my title belt in "Punch Out!!" And why wait until you're out of warranty to give up the ghost, so as to cost me $75? You're a cruel, cold-hearted machine.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
First book signing scheduled!
4:30 p.m. Sept. 29 at the University of Arizona bookstore. You know you want to be there.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Swan song
I won second place in the Arizona Press Club's film, video and television criticism category. Would have been nice to have gone out on top but there's some charm in a Cardinals-style near-miss, right?
Full disclosure: only six people entered. I'm exiting a game of movie critical musical chairs here, and we've run fresh out of chairs.
Full disclosure: only six people entered. I'm exiting a game of movie critical musical chairs here, and we've run fresh out of chairs.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Ah, my first review!
Secrets of a Stingy Scoundrel: 100 Dirty Little Money-Grubbing Secrets by Phil VillarrealMy review
rating: 5 of 5 stars
This book is phenomenal. It will save you money, make you laugh and answer all your hopes and prayers. Try and read it every day for the rest of your life.
View all my reviews.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
I'm annoyed
At how Youtube embeds on fresh posts block out links to my book's Amazon site. Ugh.
This
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text
is
meant
to un-block the link until I can figure out a better way to handle this.
This
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text
is
meant
to un-block the link until I can figure out a better way to handle this.
Rudo Y Cursi
Gael Garcia Bernal and Diego Luna are sort of a modern Mexican version of Laurel and Hardy. Working together again in a sibling rivalry soccer movie for the first time since they met in the seminal Y Tu Mama Tambien, the guys prove once again to be a formidable comic team. Never mind that neither of their collaborations are true comedies. What makes both films work (although I'm hesitant to lump the movies together because Y Tu Mama is in a class far above this one) is the subtle humor that underscores the tense drama.
The tough, tense stuff simply wouldn't work if Bernal and Luna weren't as good as they are at playing off of one another's comic cues to set up scores of humiliating gags. The actors' chemistry lifts what might have been an average sports melodrama to something near special.
Bernal is Tato, an easygoing striker who fashions himself a night club singer, while Bernal is Tato's high-strung brother Beto, a mustachioed goalie who resents the success of anyone around him, especially Tato. Early on a scout happens by the brothers on a southern Mexico soccer pitch and tells them he can take only one of them with him to a pro tryout up north. It's a testament to Beto (nicknamed Rudo for his rudeness) is willing to wage his future on a single penalty shot, given the inherent advantage of the shooter in the situation. Beto tries to tell his suggestion-prone brother to kick it to the right so he can block it, but the brothers cross signals, Tato scores the goal, and he's on to the big leagues.
It's when Tato rises to fame, earning the nickname Cursi for his flowery, elegant play, that the movie takes on its true spirit, reminding me of the joyous, nobodies-make-good in the early episodes of Entourage. He eventually pulls Beto into the fold, and the brothers wind up living together in an overpriced house, playing for rival squads that you just know will end up meeting in the climactic scene with everything on the line.
The first two thirds of the film are spectacular but the ending is disgustingly contrived - just too cute and telescoped - and leaves you with a sour taste in your mouth. But there are enough thrills and laughs here to justify the price of admission.
Saturday, May 09, 2009
Gigantic
Ah, Zooey Deschanel. The ultimate Manic Pixie Dream Girl, who plays pretty much the same character in every movie and TV show she comes across. She's always slightly aloof, struggling with inner turmoil, falling for sad sack losers and inspiring them to greater heights, then hurling herself into self-caused turmoil in order to be redeemed by her faceless beau.
The indie spinner Gigantic holds form. This time her character has the ultimate Manic Pixie Dream Girl name, Harriet "Happy" Lolly. She meets her man-slave du jour, a mattress salesman named Brian (Paul Dano), by wandering into his shop and falling asleep on one of his beds. She's there to pay for merchandise bought by her dad, Al (John Goodman, playing just as awesome a racist windbag as he did in The Big Lebowski).
Brian is pretty much a directionless loser who saves himself by falling for Happy. His screenwriter-device quirks are that he's obsessed with adopting a Chinese baby and has a tendency to be randomly attacked, whether it be by homeless guys on the street or randomly shot at, Dick Cheney style, on a hunting trip.
Gigantic is ultra-emo but sort of funny, and it's got Zooey, so that should give you enough evidence about whether or not you need to see this. The answer, of course, is that you do, because Happy would be sad if you didn't want to see her story. And you wouldn't like a Manic Pixie Dream Girl when she's angry.
This is now my movie review blog
Now that I've been reassigned and am no longer an official movie critic, I'll be going rogue, with reviews to come on everything I see on this site. I won't be so quick on the new releases anymore, and will probably spend most of my time reviewing movies that have just come out on DVD, or movies that have been on DVD forever but are suddenly new to me. First up: "Gigantic," a movie opening at the Loft in a couple weeks.
Monday, May 04, 2009
Horn or whistle? You decide
A car horn honks as Luke and I are on the way to pick up Papa John's for Jessica's 30th birthday party.
Luke: "What was that?"
Me: "A horn."
Luke: "That's not a horn, silly!"
Me: "Then what was it?"
Luke: "A whistle, silly."
Me: "Huh."
Luke: "What was that?"
Me: "A horn."
Luke: "That's not a horn, silly!"
Me: "Then what was it?"
Luke: "A whistle, silly."
Me: "Huh."
Sunday, May 03, 2009
Bread cheers
I'd never considered toasting bread loaves, but Luke decided it was a natural way to celebrate a meal. Today at lunch he picked up a piece of bread, shoved it in front of my face and said "cheers," waiting for me to reciprocate. It felt surprisingly natura.
I now see the trend of touching pieces of bread to those of dinner partners spreading across the globe.
I now see the trend of touching pieces of bread to those of dinner partners spreading across the globe.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Moratorium on "cats"
No more referring to people as "cats" in an effort to sound like a hipster Daddy-o. The expiration date has passed, the milk has spoiled and needs to be tossed out. It's all done now, OK? Same thing with "tweeps."
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
I vow to never hashtag
I am morally against placing a # sign before a word in a Twitter (I refuse to call them "tweets" - an unmanly, despicable term that should be curb-stomped and forgotten). It's time we take a stand against this nonsense, people. Who's with me?
Monday, April 27, 2009
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Don't think it's gonna happen
After well more than 30 and a half years of life I don't think I'll ever find myself taking part in a life-or-death chase atop moving train cars. One can always dream though.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Close down the NBA
The NBA is boring and is no longer necessary in today's society. Shut it down. Let colleges keep their players for as long as they want to.
Also, slash the baseball season in half. It goes on too long. Reduce NASCAR to a three-race season.
Keep the NFL at 16 games because it's perfect in every way.
Also, move the NHL and college hockey to Canada.
Also, slash the baseball season in half. It goes on too long. Reduce NASCAR to a three-race season.
Keep the NFL at 16 games because it's perfect in every way.
Also, move the NHL and college hockey to Canada.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Last pass
Tonight is my last chance to give my manuscript a once-over before the design process kicks in and things are pretty much locked down. I'll go tonight until I can't physically operate anymore. Glad it's a small book.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Sit Down, Shut Up
Had a terrible, terrible pilot that convinced me to never watch an episode again. Which shouldn't be too difficult because I doubt it will last more than a few more weeks.
PW book deal announcement
Over at Publishers Weekly they're running the deal announcement on my book being sold to Skyhorse. Still doesn't feel real just yet, but it's getting there.
"Secrets of a Stingy Scoundrel" is coming out Sept. 1 and is pre-orderable at the link over on the right. If you care about my stuff enough to read this little blog I can count on you to get a copy or 10 and convince all of your friends and acquaintances to do the same, right? Right?
"Secrets of a Stingy Scoundrel" is coming out Sept. 1 and is pre-orderable at the link over on the right. If you care about my stuff enough to read this little blog I can count on you to get a copy or 10 and convince all of your friends and acquaintances to do the same, right? Right?
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Ninjas versus spiders
Playing Ninja Blade today made me realize that every ninja video game ever created has some sort of gigantic spider boss. As I was hacking the legs off the spider I wondered what it is that makes spiders the natural enemy of ninjas.
Is it perhaps because they regard one another as grotesque, perverted reflections of themselves? The ninja, a master of stealth, wall-jumping and not using guns, views the spider as what a ninja might look like if he happened to have born with an exoskeleton, several legs and venomous fangs. The spider, recognizing in the ninja a similar ability to stalk and trap its prey without resorting to boorish assaults, imagines that he might have been born a ninja had he lacked web-spinning ability and been blessed with the power to sever henchmen's spines with shurikens.
Taking all that into account, it would not surprise me if the spider-ridiculing films "8 Legged Freaks" and "Arachnophobia" were written and directed by covert ninjas. Likewise, the blatantly anti-ninja movies "Three Ninjas" and "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles II: The Secret of the Ooze" were produced by spiders who had managed to work their way up through the Hollywood system by masquerading as humans (advanced knowledge of makeup effects would have been an absolute necessity to pull off this ruse).
While the opposing forces have battled to a draw in the realm of film, it's sad in this age of affirmative action and equal rights that the video game world continues to be vehemently ant-spider and pro-ninja. We're led to believe that spiders, even in gigantic, mutated form, are no match for an average-size ninjas with never-ending continues.
Oh, for a spider-based game in which the end boss is a tiny ninja. That would be one for the ages.
Is it perhaps because they regard one another as grotesque, perverted reflections of themselves? The ninja, a master of stealth, wall-jumping and not using guns, views the spider as what a ninja might look like if he happened to have born with an exoskeleton, several legs and venomous fangs. The spider, recognizing in the ninja a similar ability to stalk and trap its prey without resorting to boorish assaults, imagines that he might have been born a ninja had he lacked web-spinning ability and been blessed with the power to sever henchmen's spines with shurikens.
Taking all that into account, it would not surprise me if the spider-ridiculing films "8 Legged Freaks" and "Arachnophobia" were written and directed by covert ninjas. Likewise, the blatantly anti-ninja movies "Three Ninjas" and "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles II: The Secret of the Ooze" were produced by spiders who had managed to work their way up through the Hollywood system by masquerading as humans (advanced knowledge of makeup effects would have been an absolute necessity to pull off this ruse).
While the opposing forces have battled to a draw in the realm of film, it's sad in this age of affirmative action and equal rights that the video game world continues to be vehemently ant-spider and pro-ninja. We're led to believe that spiders, even in gigantic, mutated form, are no match for an average-size ninjas with never-ending continues.
Oh, for a spider-based game in which the end boss is a tiny ninja. That would be one for the ages.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
A request
To: Everyone
From: Me
Please shut up about these stupid protests known as Tea Parties. Thanks.
From: Me
Please shut up about these stupid protests known as Tea Parties. Thanks.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
My 2009 Cardinals season predictions
1 Sun, Sept. 13 vs. San Francisco 49ers FOX 4:15 p.m. Win, 20-17
2 Sun, Sept. 20 at Jacksonville Jaguars FOX 1 p.m. Win, 45-0
3 Sun, Sept. 27 vs. Indianapolis Colts NBC 8:20 p.m. Win, 77-0
4 Bye
5 Sun, Oct. 11 vs. Houston Texans CBS 4:15 p.m. Win, 66-0
6 Sun, Oct. 18 at Seattle Seahawks FOX 4:05 p.m. Win, 99-0
7 Sun, Oct. 25 at New York Giants NBC 8:20 p.m. Win, 255-0
8 Sun, Nov. 1 vs. Carolina Panthers FOX 4:15 p.m. Win, 88-0
9 Sun, Nov. 8 at Chicago Bears FOX 1 p.m. Win, 22-0
10 Sun, Nov. 15 vs. Seattle Seahawks FOX 4:15 p.m. Win, 49-0
11 Sun, Nov. 22 at St. Louis Rams FOX 4:05 p.m. Win, 74-0
12 Sun, Nov. 29 at Tennessee Titans FOX 1 p.m. Win, 55-0
13 Sun, Dec. 6 vs. Minnesota Vikings FOX 4:15 p.m. Win, 48-0
14 Mon, Dec. 14 at San Francisco 49ers ESPN 8:30 p.m. Win, 20-19
15 Sun, Dec. 20 at Detroit Lions FOX 1 p.m. Win, 64-0
16 Sun, Dec. 27 vs. St. Louis Rams FOX 4:05 p.m. Win, 44-0
17 Sun, Jan. 3 vs. Green Bay Packers FOX 4:15 p.m. Win, 63-0
2 Sun, Sept. 20 at Jacksonville Jaguars FOX 1 p.m. Win, 45-0
3 Sun, Sept. 27 vs. Indianapolis Colts NBC 8:20 p.m. Win, 77-0
4 Bye
5 Sun, Oct. 11 vs. Houston Texans CBS 4:15 p.m. Win, 66-0
6 Sun, Oct. 18 at Seattle Seahawks FOX 4:05 p.m. Win, 99-0
7 Sun, Oct. 25 at New York Giants NBC 8:20 p.m. Win, 255-0
8 Sun, Nov. 1 vs. Carolina Panthers FOX 4:15 p.m. Win, 88-0
9 Sun, Nov. 8 at Chicago Bears FOX 1 p.m. Win, 22-0
10 Sun, Nov. 15 vs. Seattle Seahawks FOX 4:15 p.m. Win, 49-0
11 Sun, Nov. 22 at St. Louis Rams FOX 4:05 p.m. Win, 74-0
12 Sun, Nov. 29 at Tennessee Titans FOX 1 p.m. Win, 55-0
13 Sun, Dec. 6 vs. Minnesota Vikings FOX 4:15 p.m. Win, 48-0
14 Mon, Dec. 14 at San Francisco 49ers ESPN 8:30 p.m. Win, 20-19
15 Sun, Dec. 20 at Detroit Lions FOX 1 p.m. Win, 64-0
16 Sun, Dec. 27 vs. St. Louis Rams FOX 4:05 p.m. Win, 44-0
17 Sun, Jan. 3 vs. Green Bay Packers FOX 4:15 p.m. Win, 63-0
Monday, April 13, 2009
No blog post tonight
Because I'm working all night working on the second draft of my book. Well, unless you count this as a post.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Accosted: A Fictional, Made-Up Tale of Woe
Sitting on the toilet at his en-laws' house Saturday afternoon, a gentleman heard a tap on the door.
"Do you need anything?" he thought heard his wife say.
"What?" I, I mean HE, definitely he, responded, only half-listening because he was finishing up "Grand Theft Auto: Chinatown Wars" while his bowels slowly cranked out the revised edition of last night's dinner.
"ARE YOU OK?" she followed, in a voice that stopped a few miles short of being a genuine inquiry of health and well-being, and resided firmly in the territory of accusation.
"Sure, fine," the guy said, continuing to play his game while continuing to negotiate his contract.
After five or 10 more minutes, who knows, maybe a half hour - time flies when you're running drug deals and hits in Liberty City - the guy hears the knock again. This time not so much a tap as a deafening, jackhammer-like pounding.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN THERE?" It's his wife again. Or it could be the Easter Bunny, or Gisele Bundchen. It doesn't really matter because nothing is getting this guy off the pot at this juncture, and all outside distractions have melted away so he could focus on the task at hand. I mean, this is the end of the freaking game, in one of the hyper-intense, multi-leg final two missions! This demands the full, rapt attention of a man on his throne. Besides, the reservoir is still cranking! What does she expect him to do, respond to her summons immediately, forsaking his past 40 minutes, OK maybe an hour, of work, put the DS in sleep mode and end the proceedings with a hasty, dirty pre-wipe just to appease the whims of his better half? I mean, no one in the living room's going anywhere, right?
So the guy beats the game, concludes his fecal deposits and then hears about what a jerk he is the rest of the night. Is this a happy ending because the man has stood his moral ground, or a tragedy because sticking true to his morals has caused him great suffering? You decide, fair reader. You decide.
"Do you need anything?" he thought heard his wife say.
"What?" I, I mean HE, definitely he, responded, only half-listening because he was finishing up "Grand Theft Auto: Chinatown Wars" while his bowels slowly cranked out the revised edition of last night's dinner.
"ARE YOU OK?" she followed, in a voice that stopped a few miles short of being a genuine inquiry of health and well-being, and resided firmly in the territory of accusation.
"Sure, fine," the guy said, continuing to play his game while continuing to negotiate his contract.
After five or 10 more minutes, who knows, maybe a half hour - time flies when you're running drug deals and hits in Liberty City - the guy hears the knock again. This time not so much a tap as a deafening, jackhammer-like pounding.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN THERE?" It's his wife again. Or it could be the Easter Bunny, or Gisele Bundchen. It doesn't really matter because nothing is getting this guy off the pot at this juncture, and all outside distractions have melted away so he could focus on the task at hand. I mean, this is the end of the freaking game, in one of the hyper-intense, multi-leg final two missions! This demands the full, rapt attention of a man on his throne. Besides, the reservoir is still cranking! What does she expect him to do, respond to her summons immediately, forsaking his past 40 minutes, OK maybe an hour, of work, put the DS in sleep mode and end the proceedings with a hasty, dirty pre-wipe just to appease the whims of his better half? I mean, no one in the living room's going anywhere, right?
So the guy beats the game, concludes his fecal deposits and then hears about what a jerk he is the rest of the night. Is this a happy ending because the man has stood his moral ground, or a tragedy because sticking true to his morals has caused him great suffering? You decide, fair reader. You decide.
Wednesday, April 08, 2009
The most worthless of all dance styles
Is clearly tap dancing. It's just a guy standing there with tin can tops on the heels of his shoes moving no more than a quarter of an inch in any direction as he stares into the audience like a doofus.
My wife, who is sitting here as I type, just said "I love how you condemn things you could never do."
Damn it. She said something funnier than anything I could come up with tonight.
My wife, who is sitting here as I type, just said "I love how you condemn things you could never do."
Damn it. She said something funnier than anything I could come up with tonight.
Tuesday, April 07, 2009
A trend that needs to stop
OK, Apatow crew, you've made your point. Full-frontal male nudity can be funny.
But go ahead and stop now, m'kay? Bottle this one up. After "Observe and Report" the vampires are clearly playing baseball and the shock factor has worn away. Move on to something else to subvert society. Maybe something involving the board game Hungry Hungry Hippos and a donkey.
But go ahead and stop now, m'kay? Bottle this one up. After "Observe and Report" the vampires are clearly playing baseball and the shock factor has worn away. Move on to something else to subvert society. Maybe something involving the board game Hungry Hungry Hippos and a donkey.
Monday, April 06, 2009
Recruit reconsidering commitment
Now that Sean Miller has been named the new Arizona Wildcats basketball coach, a prized recruit is reconsidering his decision not to play basketball in Tucson. Someone other than Solomon Hill. That's right, it's me. Now that I'm out of the running for the top job I'm wavering in my commitment to sit on my couch watching basketball all day Thursdays and Saturdays and thinking about joining the team. I'm ranked as the top player in my entire household by Rivals.com, but not by Scout.com, which gives the edge to my son Luke. Still, even that service has me in the top five, so I'm not a player to overlook.
The most I'll play for Miller is one year, though. Then I'm on to either the NBA, the Arena Basketball League or the Tokyo Giants.
The most I'll play for Miller is one year, though. Then I'm on to either the NBA, the Arena Basketball League or the Tokyo Giants.
Sunday, April 05, 2009
Og
Me: Time to brush your teeth.
Luke: No.
Me: Time to brush your teeth. One, two...
Luke: Be Og?
Me: Rarr! Og says brush your teeth Luke?
Luke: Want to hug, Og?
(Luke and Og hug)
Luke: I brush my teeth.
(Og is actually a mutant, gigantic Joker from his favorite episode of the Batman cartoon. I've told him several times that the creature he knows as "Og" is actually the Joker but this falls on deaf ears.)
Luke: No.
Me: Time to brush your teeth. One, two...
Luke: Be Og?
Me: Rarr! Og says brush your teeth Luke?
Luke: Want to hug, Og?
(Luke and Og hug)
Luke: I brush my teeth.
(Og is actually a mutant, gigantic Joker from his favorite episode of the Batman cartoon. I've told him several times that the creature he knows as "Og" is actually the Joker but this falls on deaf ears.)
Friday, April 03, 2009
My book is up for preorder
"Secrets of a Stingy Scoundrel" is up on Amazon for preorders, listed at $12.95 and due out Sept. 1. Anyone want to help out my chances for success by tossing some shillings into the collection plate?
Wednesday, April 01, 2009
Rumor: I am the next Arizona basketball coach
Sorry, Jeff Capel, Mark Few and Tim Floyd. It is I, Phil Villarreal, who will be named Arizona's next head coach at a press conference Thursday morning. This is not an April Fool's joke. It's reality, so deal with it. I have no actual head coaching experience but am pretty good at basketball video games. I'll also bring my entire recruiting class with me. The recruiting class, of course, being me, who will start at point guard as a 9-years-redshirted freshman.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Monday, March 30, 2009
Signed
Signed my book contract today. My agent gave me word that he'd made the deal in early February, but it's taken until now to nail all the details down. It's a humorous guide about how to save money in ridiculous ways, and will be published by November 2010. I'm hoping they rush it into production to make sure it hits shelves while the recession is still raging. Because how depressing would it be if we're in November 2010 and things are as bad as they are right now or worse?
A bad economy equals a better chance for my book to do well. (As for the title, it's tentatively Secrets of a Stingy Scoundrel but I'm pulling for the more succinct Cheap Bastard). Of course, if things get too bad that means people will start to save money by not buying books that help them save money. I need the economy to be ugly but not downright awful.
A bad economy equals a better chance for my book to do well. (As for the title, it's tentatively Secrets of a Stingy Scoundrel but I'm pulling for the more succinct Cheap Bastard). Of course, if things get too bad that means people will start to save money by not buying books that help them save money. I need the economy to be ugly but not downright awful.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Cold
Judging on how incapacitated I was this weekend because of my cold, I don't think I could function if I ever suffered an illness more significant than a flu. I'd need to move to Oregon to take advantage of their Youth in Asia laws fo sho.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Law school is the new real estate license
It used to be that when people were bored with their career they'd go off and get a real estate license. These days that's not a viable alternative so now the fantasy bailout target is law school.
Once the recession finally drags down law offices I imagine people will start joining the circus again. Ah, circus, we'll always have you around to beckon us with your warm big-top embrace.
Once the recession finally drags down law offices I imagine people will start joining the circus again. Ah, circus, we'll always have you around to beckon us with your warm big-top embrace.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Teaching Emma
Will you teach Emma to talk?
Luke: No.
Will you teach Emma to walk?
Luke: No.
How will Emma learn to walk and talk?
Luke: Tummy time.
Luke: No.
Will you teach Emma to walk?
Luke: No.
How will Emma learn to walk and talk?
Luke: Tummy time.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Arizona is going to win the NCAA title
Just sayin.' The team has that unbeatable feel to it.
That or the Wildcats got lucky and played two crappy teams in Utah and Cleveland State. Whatever, as long as Jim Click buys us Rick Pitino and the tournament streak continues to 26 in 2010.
That or the Wildcats got lucky and played two crappy teams in Utah and Cleveland State. Whatever, as long as Jim Click buys us Rick Pitino and the tournament streak continues to 26 in 2010.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Strong
Is Superman strong?
Luke: Superman's not strong. Hulk's strong.
Is the Thing strong?
Luke: The Thing is not strong. Hulk's strong.
Is the Hulk fast?
Luke: The Hulk is not fast. Dash (from The Incredibles) is fast.
Is Dash strong?
Luke: Dash is not strong. Luke is strong.
Luke: Superman's not strong. Hulk's strong.
Is the Thing strong?
Luke: The Thing is not strong. Hulk's strong.
Is the Hulk fast?
Luke: The Hulk is not fast. Dash (from The Incredibles) is fast.
Is Dash strong?
Luke: Dash is not strong. Luke is strong.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Tourney Time
The only reason I'm glad I'm not in Vegas this year is that I won't be tempted to lose tons of money betting on UCLA and Arizona to cover their point spreads. My savings will keep my kids in diapers for months.
But next year and every year thereafter I'm going so the youngsters had better learn to use the toilet by then.
But next year and every year thereafter I'm going so the youngsters had better learn to use the toilet by then.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Go Tucson Citizen!
Glad to see the rival paper has been granted a stay of execution for the time being. Here's hoping a buyer comes through, saves a bunch of jobs and maintains the competitive journalism balance in town.
It's also great to see that closed papers in Seattle and Denver are still fighting the good fight online. There may be hope for the industry yet.
It's also great to see that closed papers in Seattle and Denver are still fighting the good fight online. There may be hope for the industry yet.
Monday, March 16, 2009
The right way to eat salad
When you're at a restaurant or in the company of people you need to impress, by all means use the fork. Work methodically, stab individual leafs of lettuce individually, nudge chopped carrots into the base of the fork.
But when it's just you eating with the people you see every day, drop all pretenses and just grab it with your hands. You'll get through it faster and enjoy it a heck of a lot more because the effort-to-taste ratio will be equalized.
This I learned from Luke after I took his fork away because he kept banging it on the table.
But when it's just you eating with the people you see every day, drop all pretenses and just grab it with your hands. You'll get through it faster and enjoy it a heck of a lot more because the effort-to-taste ratio will be equalized.
This I learned from Luke after I took his fork away because he kept banging it on the table.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Hallelujah
I was thrilled and amazed to see that Arizona's excuse for a basketball team somehow qualified for the NCAA tournament. As the last team accepted into the 65-team field, they edged out Penn State, St. Mary's, Creighton, San Diego State and UNLV, the latter of which murdered the Wildcats earlier this year.
It's freaking awesome that I'll get to enjoy one last tournament run before the requisite years of abysmality to which Lute Olson's botched departure has damned the program.
Utah is so dead Friday.
It's freaking awesome that I'll get to enjoy one last tournament run before the requisite years of abysmality to which Lute Olson's botched departure has damned the program.
Utah is so dead Friday.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
I hate doctors
It's great how every single doctor on the planet deems it appropriate to send me a separate bill in the weeks after the birth of my daughter. I also appreciate how the bills are spread out so I receive one per day. Doctors of the United States, I'd like to trade you all for the friendly, jovial, free healthcare-giving Cuban docs I saw on "Sicko." (I realize the scenes were probably staged, but seriously, how fake could they have really been? I'd rather wait in lines than fork over months of paychecks to corrupt, overcharging physicians).
Hey, Fidel and Raul, would you mind lending our poverty-stricken nation some pointers on how to conduct reasonable healthcare?
Hey, Fidel and Raul, would you mind lending our poverty-stricken nation some pointers on how to conduct reasonable healthcare?
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
I hate ASU
ASU, if you beat Arizona for the third time this year and the fifth consecutive time overall, I won't be able to take it. So please lose. You have a history of throwing games and pointshaving and whatnot, as well as outright sucking. So just do it, OK?
Monday, March 09, 2009
My new nickname for Emma
Is Million Dollar Baby, based on the fact that not a day passes that we don't receive another $500 dollar invoice in the mail from the astoundingly vast variety of good-natured medical professionals who helped usher her into the world.
So far she's actually a $2,500 baby but I'm rounding up for dramatic purposes.
So far she's actually a $2,500 baby but I'm rounding up for dramatic purposes.
Sunday, March 08, 2009
Retraction
Changing my position on strollers. If you only have one kid they're pretty worthless, but in a two-kid family in which the offspring are separated by two years or fewer, a double stroller is an absolute necessity for grocery shopping. The firstborn tolerates a ride in the stroller a hell of a lot better than he would a ride in the cart. (For non-parents who fashion themselves in such a situation one day, letting a 2-year-oold walk by himself at a grocery store is about as intelligent as lowering taxes to cut a budget deficit).
Double strollers are wide and unwieldly but they work marvels at preserving sanity. I'd like to use this theoretically public forum to apologize for my previous anti-stroller remarks. I was wrong. So, so wrong.
Double strollers are wide and unwieldly but they work marvels at preserving sanity. I'd like to use this theoretically public forum to apologize for my previous anti-stroller remarks. I was wrong. So, so wrong.
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
It fills my heart with joy
To hear Luke, 2, sing "sticks and stones and weed and bones" again and again, echoing a chorus from my 2008 song of the year, M.I.A.'s "Paper Planes." One of those things that makes fatherhood worthwhile.
Another such thing is Luke constructing an unwieldly tower out of giant Lego blocks and calling it "Howl's Moving Castle," then connecting two yellow blocks, making them hop up and down and referring to it as the jumping scarecrow from the film.
Another such thing is Luke constructing an unwieldly tower out of giant Lego blocks and calling it "Howl's Moving Castle," then connecting two yellow blocks, making them hop up and down and referring to it as the jumping scarecrow from the film.
Tuesday, March 03, 2009
Babies cost $2,000
Just in case anyone was wondering. I wish we'd pretended we were illegal immigrants. Damn.
Monday, March 02, 2009
Five of the coolest people in the world
Are those who plunked down the exorbitant amount of cash it costs to take home a copy of "Stormin' Mormon" in the past six months, running my year one sales figures to... 36!
If the book can keep up this blistering sales pace, it will hit triple digits by the end of 2010. Of course if sales activity keeps dropping at its current rate I'll only sell one copy between now and February '10.
Personally I think things are looking up for "Stormin' Mormon" because as the economy gets worse people will decide not to pay mortgages anymore because foreclosures will be imminent, rendering payments obsolete. Which will free up more cash to buy the book.
If the book can keep up this blistering sales pace, it will hit triple digits by the end of 2010. Of course if sales activity keeps dropping at its current rate I'll only sell one copy between now and February '10.
Personally I think things are looking up for "Stormin' Mormon" because as the economy gets worse people will decide not to pay mortgages anymore because foreclosures will be imminent, rendering payments obsolete. Which will free up more cash to buy the book.
Sunday, March 01, 2009
I am not good at video games
You'd think after 22 years of practice of continuing video game playing I'd be somewhat competent by now, but no. I suck at first-person shooters because I get lost and I have poor reflexes. I'm awful at sports games because I don't take time to read the instruction manuals or online strategy guys to discover the nuances it would take to win. I'm OK at retro games that were made to be simple enough to be aced by 8 year olds but they don't make them anymore so I'm out of luck.
Yet despite realizing my situation I'm sure I'll spend the next 22 years playing them rather than redirecting my energy toward something more useful.
Yet despite realizing my situation I'm sure I'll spend the next 22 years playing them rather than redirecting my energy toward something more useful.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Luke is the second coming of Weird Al
After watching a performance of Sara Bareilles' "Love Song" on "American Idol," my 2-year-old song made up a parody called "Butt Song." It was only one line and change long, repeated over and over ("Butt song... Butt song... Need one... Butt Song...") but the kernel was certainly there. Well done, young man.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Showdown at Applebee's
Here's how it went down. Two years ago my friend Tyler and I went to the restaurant after watching Arizona get beat down against Washington State at home. I just wanted to go home but Tyler wanted to get something to eat and he was my ride so it was out of my hands.
We were seated at a corner table and Tyler ordered some wings. The waiter asked what sort of sauce he'd like, and Tyler ordered mild, which spurred the waiter to comment that mild wings are for girls.
I laughed, but insulting the person who's eating and obviously paying just to get a laugh out of the idiot who's just along for the ride is not a smart pathway to a great tip. Things only got worse from there.
The wings didn't come for a long time, and our drinks sat empty while the waiter stood in the corner trying to flirt with his coworkers.
Tyler gave up on waiter No. 1 and flagged some other guy down to refill the drinks. Eventually waiter No. 1 circled back around to check on things, and he said he'd get us refills, seizing both of our half-full glasses and never returning with replacements. Tyler flagged yet another waiter to get us our drinks, and at long last waiter No. 1 returned with the check.
Tyler asked if he should tip the guy and I told him of course not. So he marked a zero on the tip line and below that wrote "Here's your tip: Stop flirting with girls and actually bring your customers drinks."
We left the restaurant and walked toward Tyler's car, when the waiter popped out from the back entrance like 21 Jump Street and stood between us and the vehicle.
"There was no need to be a dick about it," he said.
Then the three of us got into a shouting match that came to nothing. The next day I called the manager and told on him.
Two weeks later I went to Chili's with my wife and kid, and the waiter was standing outside as the hostess. He either didn't recognize me or pretended that was the case.
We were seated at a corner table and Tyler ordered some wings. The waiter asked what sort of sauce he'd like, and Tyler ordered mild, which spurred the waiter to comment that mild wings are for girls.
I laughed, but insulting the person who's eating and obviously paying just to get a laugh out of the idiot who's just along for the ride is not a smart pathway to a great tip. Things only got worse from there.
The wings didn't come for a long time, and our drinks sat empty while the waiter stood in the corner trying to flirt with his coworkers.
Tyler gave up on waiter No. 1 and flagged some other guy down to refill the drinks. Eventually waiter No. 1 circled back around to check on things, and he said he'd get us refills, seizing both of our half-full glasses and never returning with replacements. Tyler flagged yet another waiter to get us our drinks, and at long last waiter No. 1 returned with the check.
Tyler asked if he should tip the guy and I told him of course not. So he marked a zero on the tip line and below that wrote "Here's your tip: Stop flirting with girls and actually bring your customers drinks."
We left the restaurant and walked toward Tyler's car, when the waiter popped out from the back entrance like 21 Jump Street and stood between us and the vehicle.
"There was no need to be a dick about it," he said.
Then the three of us got into a shouting match that came to nothing. The next day I called the manager and told on him.
Two weeks later I went to Chili's with my wife and kid, and the waiter was standing outside as the hostess. He either didn't recognize me or pretended that was the case.
Monday, February 23, 2009
This one time at IHOP
I ordered an omelette, which was supposed to come with pancakes but arrived solo. I asked the waiter for the pancakes four times, and four times I was told they were on the way yet they did not come.
I sat there and waited, no longer interested in the pancakes themselves but determined to win a battle of wills. Eventually, after maybe 90 minutes, the pancakes came. I left them there at the table and wrote a little note that told the waiter the pancakes were his tip.
I write this both to brag about how stubborn I am and to warn IHOP waiters that I mean business when I'm waiting for my pancakes.
Tomorrow I will tell you about the time my friend and I were chased into the parking lot by an Applebee's waiter.
As for Wednesday, nobody knows what the topic will be as of yet.
I sat there and waited, no longer interested in the pancakes themselves but determined to win a battle of wills. Eventually, after maybe 90 minutes, the pancakes came. I left them there at the table and wrote a little note that told the waiter the pancakes were his tip.
I write this both to brag about how stubborn I am and to warn IHOP waiters that I mean business when I'm waiting for my pancakes.
Tomorrow I will tell you about the time my friend and I were chased into the parking lot by an Applebee's waiter.
As for Wednesday, nobody knows what the topic will be as of yet.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Clarification
Jessica: You're my angel.
Luke: No, Mommy. I'm a boy.
Jessica: Are you my little boy?
Luke: No, Mommy. I'm not little. I'm a big boy. I'm heavy.
Luke: No, Mommy. I'm a boy.
Jessica: Are you my little boy?
Luke: No, Mommy. I'm not little. I'm a big boy. I'm heavy.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Eight Seconds
Was the length of Emma's spectacular bout of flatulence a few minutes ago. Luke Perry, who so memorably played Lane Frost in that 1994 rodeo classic of the same title, would have been proud, for her fart matched the length of his greatest bull ride.
I've foolishly volunteered to stay up with her throughout the night to prove my boastful, highly disputed theory that she's ready to sleep in the bassinet rather than on her mom's chest. So far she's given me 90 minutes' sleep and I hope to collect more than three times that amount over the next eight hours. Let's do this, Emma.
I've foolishly volunteered to stay up with her throughout the night to prove my boastful, highly disputed theory that she's ready to sleep in the bassinet rather than on her mom's chest. So far she's given me 90 minutes' sleep and I hope to collect more than three times that amount over the next eight hours. Let's do this, Emma.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Jealousy
Whenever I watch "Juno" I'm amused by the scene in which Juno takes pity on Jason Bateman's character because his wife allows him to decorate only one room in the house. I think "Wow, that guy gets an entire room? Lucky bastard." I'm relegated to one wall of the garage.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Raising babies
Is war, make no mistake about that. Your kids are beautiful, inspiring and life-affirming, but they are also your nemeses.
No one on the planet gets to know you better than your children do. They discover weaknesses you never even knew you had. There's no hiding anything from them, and they see through all the facades you put up for society, and even your closest friends, and call you out for what you really are. Raising children puts you on the battlefield and it's you and - if you're lucky enough to have a spouse around - and your significant other against the underage enemy. Survival and success depend on your ability to strategize, execute and out-think your unpredictable opponents. Teamwork is absolutely crucial, as is outright luck. You're a bird on a wire with baby hatchlings stacked on your shoulders, unwittingly attempting to tip you over and send you hurtling toward disaster.
I'm told things only get more trying as they age. Newborn Emma keeps me up all hours of the night because she won't sleep unless she's in my arms or Jessica's, and she'll make me just as much of an insomniac once she's a teenager. 2-year-old Luke already knows how to turn me into a speechless idiot, by snidely muttering "eh?" when I ask a question he doesn't like. By next year the kid will have figured out how to steal my credit card to go on online shopping binges.
One thing I've grown fairly certain of over the past week is those who have more than two kids are either certifiably insane or callous enough to hire outside agents to raise them.
No one on the planet gets to know you better than your children do. They discover weaknesses you never even knew you had. There's no hiding anything from them, and they see through all the facades you put up for society, and even your closest friends, and call you out for what you really are. Raising children puts you on the battlefield and it's you and - if you're lucky enough to have a spouse around - and your significant other against the underage enemy. Survival and success depend on your ability to strategize, execute and out-think your unpredictable opponents. Teamwork is absolutely crucial, as is outright luck. You're a bird on a wire with baby hatchlings stacked on your shoulders, unwittingly attempting to tip you over and send you hurtling toward disaster.
I'm told things only get more trying as they age. Newborn Emma keeps me up all hours of the night because she won't sleep unless she's in my arms or Jessica's, and she'll make me just as much of an insomniac once she's a teenager. 2-year-old Luke already knows how to turn me into a speechless idiot, by snidely muttering "eh?" when I ask a question he doesn't like. By next year the kid will have figured out how to steal my credit card to go on online shopping binges.
One thing I've grown fairly certain of over the past week is those who have more than two kids are either certifiably insane or callous enough to hire outside agents to raise them.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
25 things about me
1. My ultimate goal is to travel to another planet and conquer it, rectally probing most of the planet’s residents, enslaving the others and stealing all their water for my personal use.
2. Censored.
3. I used to think that people who liked 30 Rock better than The Office were morons. I am now also a moron.
4. I am a whore in public but a churchgirl in the bedroom.
5. One of my more depressing shortcomings is that I am 11 wives short of attaining a quorum in the Celestial Kingdom.
6. I didn’t land on Plymouth Rock, but Plymouth Rock landed on me.
7. I would have been able to play in the NBA if I hadn’t been discriminated against back in high school for my lack of size, speed and intelligence.
8. I try to work the phrase “You dun smoke yourself retarded” into one conversation per day.
9. I don’t understand the fashion concept of “matching.”
10. Abraham Lincoln was actually a reincarnation of me. The explanation for how this happened is too long to get into here, but bear in mind it includes a time-traveling DeLorean as well as several voodoo rituals.
11. I was Time Magazine’s 2006 person of the year. Look it up.
12. I believe all country love songs by dudes are sung with farm animals in mind.
13. My greatest fear is being buried alive.
14. I believe golf columnists are the most fetishistic and pathetically stalker-like of all sportswriters.
15. I feel sorry for dolphins that live in the wild because they don’t get the chance to jump through flaming hoops.
16. I still own every baseball, football and basketball card, as well as comic book, I ever purchased and keep them stored in shoeboxes in a closet for no reason.
17. I am too lazy to write 25 things about myself, so I must stop at
18. And yet I persevere anyway, deciding that it’s better to half-ass eight more to conform to the demands of the format rather than cut myself off in the name of artistic integrity.
19. When I was a kid I had an imaginary rival named Jacques Jejajeun. I’d play him in paddle ball, Nerf basketball and Rad Racer.
20. When I was in fifth grade I convinced myself that if me and my friends played recess basketball well enough we’d get a chance to play against UNLV in a nationally broadcast exhibition game.
21. I hate yet am in inspired by people with no talent who have lucked into successful careers. (i.e. Matt Leinart, Katy Perry and Ryan Seacrest).
22. I have no sense of direction. This affects me the most when I play first-person shooters.
23. I like reading about video games more than playing them.
24. When I was a freshman in college I would recycle my excess cereal milk and use it the next day. Yep, I went green before it was cool.
25. I’m not even trying anymore and haven’t been after the first seven in all honesty. But I still count this as one so now it’s over.
2. Censored.
3. I used to think that people who liked 30 Rock better than The Office were morons. I am now also a moron.
4. I am a whore in public but a churchgirl in the bedroom.
5. One of my more depressing shortcomings is that I am 11 wives short of attaining a quorum in the Celestial Kingdom.
6. I didn’t land on Plymouth Rock, but Plymouth Rock landed on me.
7. I would have been able to play in the NBA if I hadn’t been discriminated against back in high school for my lack of size, speed and intelligence.
8. I try to work the phrase “You dun smoke yourself retarded” into one conversation per day.
9. I don’t understand the fashion concept of “matching.”
10. Abraham Lincoln was actually a reincarnation of me. The explanation for how this happened is too long to get into here, but bear in mind it includes a time-traveling DeLorean as well as several voodoo rituals.
11. I was Time Magazine’s 2006 person of the year. Look it up.
12. I believe all country love songs by dudes are sung with farm animals in mind.
13. My greatest fear is being buried alive.
14. I believe golf columnists are the most fetishistic and pathetically stalker-like of all sportswriters.
15. I feel sorry for dolphins that live in the wild because they don’t get the chance to jump through flaming hoops.
16. I still own every baseball, football and basketball card, as well as comic book, I ever purchased and keep them stored in shoeboxes in a closet for no reason.
17. I am too lazy to write 25 things about myself, so I must stop at
18. And yet I persevere anyway, deciding that it’s better to half-ass eight more to conform to the demands of the format rather than cut myself off in the name of artistic integrity.
19. When I was a kid I had an imaginary rival named Jacques Jejajeun. I’d play him in paddle ball, Nerf basketball and Rad Racer.
20. When I was in fifth grade I convinced myself that if me and my friends played recess basketball well enough we’d get a chance to play against UNLV in a nationally broadcast exhibition game.
21. I hate yet am in inspired by people with no talent who have lucked into successful careers. (i.e. Matt Leinart, Katy Perry and Ryan Seacrest).
22. I have no sense of direction. This affects me the most when I play first-person shooters.
23. I like reading about video games more than playing them.
24. When I was a freshman in college I would recycle my excess cereal milk and use it the next day. Yep, I went green before it was cool.
25. I’m not even trying anymore and haven’t been after the first seven in all honesty. But I still count this as one so now it’s over.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Goodbye sleep
I see how things will be now for the next couple months. I am the father of a vampire baby who lacks the ability to sleep at night. It's fine because Luke was the same way, and apparently I survived his early days, even though I've blocked most of the sleep-deprived weeks from my memory. At least I'll be able to accomplish a few things, such as re-watching "The Prisoner" and checking Facebook at 3:30 in the morning for several consecutive days.
Bring it on, Emma. I'm ready for round three tonight.
Bring it on, Emma. I'm ready for round three tonight.
1/40th-life crisis
My 2-year-old son, Luke, is going through some issues accepting his new role as big brother. He made his introductions to newborn Emma by attempting to shove her car seat off a chair. A few minutes later he punched her, earning himself an expenses-paid trip trip to time out.
Today he seems to have made a little bit of progress. He's kissed her several times and although he's often come close to hurting her, every one of today's attempts has been unintentional.
Today he seems to have made a little bit of progress. He's kissed her several times and although he's often come close to hurting her, every one of today's attempts has been unintentional.
Sunday, February 08, 2009
Pleased to meet you
Thanks to the miracles of modern labor induction my baby girl is entering this world tomorrow - at least I hope she is, because I don't know how well I'd hold up after a 14-hour labor that pushed her birthdate to 2/10/09. Hopefully I'll hold up and deliver this baby safely. Women can complain all they want, but when you get down to it childbirth is tougher for the husband (just as war is tougher on the spouses left behind at home than the soldiers who fight) because it's one thing to endure unimaginable pain for several hours on end but it's just as horrifying to stand by powerless watching your wife go through the torture, as two loves of your life hang in the balance.
Wednesday, February 04, 2009
Book deal!
After 6 years and 7 manuscripts, I've finally managed to get one sold. I can't reveal details just yet, but don't worry because I'll be hitting you over the head with it so much you'll get sick of it soon enough. This is the accomplishment of a lifelong dream and I've never been happier in my life.
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
My Super Bowl porn complaint to Comcast
Dear Comcast,
I'm writing to express my outrage over the interrupted broadcast Sunday evening. I was sitting at home with my family and friends, taking part in that great American tradition known as porn watching, when suddenly a 30-second clip of the Super Bowl flashed onscreen.
It's difficult to express how offended I was at this - I hesitate to even utter the abhorrent word - football. I mean, there were children and old people in the room! And there we were, attempting to enjoy some honest, wholesome sexual entertainment when we were bombarded with footage of grotesque, chemically-enhanced behemoths throwing one another around and committing acts of grotesque violence on one another.
At first I thought it some sort of plot twist or narrative flourish. After all, beloved porn movies are known for their unpredictability as much as their subversive, ironic and oh-so-erotic humor. I expected the helmets and shoulder pads to be shed in due course for some lovemaking.
After all, it started out innocently enough, with a man approaching a group of fellows who were bent over with their butts in the air. He chose his favorite, stuck his hands onto the gentleman's erogenous zone and and began yelling out orgasmically as all the others remained frozen in rapt attention. But then the players commenced with a revolting display of what lowlifes refer to as "athletics." I watched, waited, and came to realize that as the disgusting display continued it became all too obvious what was really going on.
We were innocent victims of some horrendous, purile prank, and I don't know that we will ever fully be able to recover. We put our trust in you, Comcast, and you violated it as Debbie did Dallas. Who do you take us for? We are not the slobbering, perverse cro-magnons who would put up with such drivel.
I demand a full refund of my last seven years' cable bills and am highly considering a switch to Direct TV or Dish Network, which to my knowledge never let their porn feeds become polluted with such abominations.
Good day, sirs.
Phil Villarreal
Tucson, AZ
I'm writing to express my outrage over the interrupted broadcast Sunday evening. I was sitting at home with my family and friends, taking part in that great American tradition known as porn watching, when suddenly a 30-second clip of the Super Bowl flashed onscreen.
It's difficult to express how offended I was at this - I hesitate to even utter the abhorrent word - football. I mean, there were children and old people in the room! And there we were, attempting to enjoy some honest, wholesome sexual entertainment when we were bombarded with footage of grotesque, chemically-enhanced behemoths throwing one another around and committing acts of grotesque violence on one another.
At first I thought it some sort of plot twist or narrative flourish. After all, beloved porn movies are known for their unpredictability as much as their subversive, ironic and oh-so-erotic humor. I expected the helmets and shoulder pads to be shed in due course for some lovemaking.
After all, it started out innocently enough, with a man approaching a group of fellows who were bent over with their butts in the air. He chose his favorite, stuck his hands onto the gentleman's erogenous zone and and began yelling out orgasmically as all the others remained frozen in rapt attention. But then the players commenced with a revolting display of what lowlifes refer to as "athletics." I watched, waited, and came to realize that as the disgusting display continued it became all too obvious what was really going on.
We were innocent victims of some horrendous, purile prank, and I don't know that we will ever fully be able to recover. We put our trust in you, Comcast, and you violated it as Debbie did Dallas. Who do you take us for? We are not the slobbering, perverse cro-magnons who would put up with such drivel.
I demand a full refund of my last seven years' cable bills and am highly considering a switch to Direct TV or Dish Network, which to my knowledge never let their porn feeds become polluted with such abominations.
Good day, sirs.
Phil Villarreal
Tucson, AZ
Monday, February 02, 2009
Strollers are a fraud
They're not necessary. When babies are tiny and light, you just carry them along without any trouble. When they're too heavy to hold, they're big enough to walk on their own. Furthermore, they are all possessed by the minions of the ancient demon Unfold, who is said to curse plastic devices, rendering them unfoldable.
So for anyone out there who has ever purchase a stroller, you're wrong and have failed at life.
(Jessica, if you're reading this please don't murder me in my sleep. I was just kidding! Sorta.)
So for anyone out there who has ever purchase a stroller, you're wrong and have failed at life.
(Jessica, if you're reading this please don't murder me in my sleep. I was just kidding! Sorta.)
Sunday, February 01, 2009
Pittsburgh Steelers World champions?
I don't know that the Pittsburgh Steelers are truly world champions. I'll bet there's a team in Azerbaijan, Turkey or North Korea that WOULDN'T THROW THEM 100-YARD PICK SIXES OR ALLOW THEM TO GO UP THE FIELD FOR EASY TOUCHDOWNS WITH LESS THAN A MINUTE LEFT IN THE GAME.
So let's just call them NFL champs, OK?
So let's just call them NFL champs, OK?
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Decaf
Decaf coffee is about as necessary and useful as alcohol-free tequila. Or caffeine-free Red Bull. Or the Detroit Lions.
Do people order it because they love the taste of coffee? If so, they should upgrade to Yak urine, which Wikipedia says takes half as many sugar cubes and creamer packets to become palatable.
Do people order it because they love the taste of coffee? If so, they should upgrade to Yak urine, which Wikipedia says takes half as many sugar cubes and creamer packets to become palatable.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
My talk with Chazz Palminteri
Trent Othick: Chazz, this is Phil, he wrote great things about you in his review.
Chazz Palminteri: I don't read reviews.
Me: Oh, uh...
Chazz: I'm gonna get going.
Chazz Palminteri: I don't read reviews.
Me: Oh, uh...
Chazz: I'm gonna get going.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Three-car garage
Not once in the history of humankind has a homeowner used the bastardized third slot of his three-car garage - the one that's partitioned off, separated from the traditional boundaries of the garage - to park a car. The third slot is used only as a cesspool to stockpile unnecessary garbage the owner deems unworthy of keeping inside the house yet too necessary to expunge to a landfill.
It's not that I fault people for never being able to park their cars in the third slot. Lord knows it's not worth the risk. The walls are so narrow it takes Luke Skywalker ability to navigate your vehicle to safety without sideswiping a wall. I've wondered aloud to just about everyone I've ever met why it is builders can't design three-car garages ultra-wide and partition free, and every time I've gotten the answer "that probably wouldn't be stable enough." I don't buy it. In this world of retractable-roofed football stadiums, Space Needles and Disney Concert Halls, someone out there must know how to sketch up a usable three-car garage.
I'm mystified at those who stack boxes upon boxes of worthless nonsense - Thighmaster atop exercise bike atop worn-out cardboard Costco crates. Most garages I see look exactly the same, crammed with unpacked boxes from three moves ago, beat-up mattresses and the like. They stand as monuments to careless excess.
This is coming from a packrat who still has every comic book he ever purchased when he was 15, more than 100,000 baseball cards and a box of mid-1980s Nintendo Powers. If I can find space enough inside my closets, underneath my bed and inside drawers for all that slop without sacrificing one my two sacred garage parking spots, there's no excuse for anyone to own a three-car garage and not find at least enough space to park two cars.
By the way, if I'm ever elected president of the United States this will be my first state of the union address.
It's not that I fault people for never being able to park their cars in the third slot. Lord knows it's not worth the risk. The walls are so narrow it takes Luke Skywalker ability to navigate your vehicle to safety without sideswiping a wall. I've wondered aloud to just about everyone I've ever met why it is builders can't design three-car garages ultra-wide and partition free, and every time I've gotten the answer "that probably wouldn't be stable enough." I don't buy it. In this world of retractable-roofed football stadiums, Space Needles and Disney Concert Halls, someone out there must know how to sketch up a usable three-car garage.
I'm mystified at those who stack boxes upon boxes of worthless nonsense - Thighmaster atop exercise bike atop worn-out cardboard Costco crates. Most garages I see look exactly the same, crammed with unpacked boxes from three moves ago, beat-up mattresses and the like. They stand as monuments to careless excess.
This is coming from a packrat who still has every comic book he ever purchased when he was 15, more than 100,000 baseball cards and a box of mid-1980s Nintendo Powers. If I can find space enough inside my closets, underneath my bed and inside drawers for all that slop without sacrificing one my two sacred garage parking spots, there's no excuse for anyone to own a three-car garage and not find at least enough space to park two cars.
By the way, if I'm ever elected president of the United States this will be my first state of the union address.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Prince's inspiration
I believe that when Prince penned the song that goes "Could you be the most beautiful girl in the world" he had Google Reader in mind. It's amazing. Like DVR for internet reading. It knows better than you do what it is you'll want to read on the internet and serves it up for you in one long list.
It slashes away the stress that comes from working whether anything cool has been posted. It triples your productivity in all phases of life.
Google Reader, you're the reason that God made a girl.
It slashes away the stress that comes from working whether anything cool has been posted. It triples your productivity in all phases of life.
Google Reader, you're the reason that God made a girl.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
A reflection on the NFC Championship
The starkest feeling I'll take away from my Sunday at University of Phoenix Stadium won't be the jubilant uproar of 70,000 (minus maybe a couple thousand depressed Eagles revelers) fans screaming in disbelief that the team they'd loved for 20 years (or 20 days) had finally tipped the world on its ear and made it to the Super Bowl. "We are the Champions" blared over the speakers as confetti showered from the rafters.
Nor will it be the sting I felt in my ribs when a belligerent giant Cardinals fan elbowed me out of the way as I tried to pull him off of a belligerent giant Eagles fan who had stolen his toilet stall. He gave the same treatment to security guards that followed, and then police officers who slammed his face to the tile and cuffed him. No worse time to be arrested than when you have to drop a deuce.
No, the feeling I'll remember most is the soundwaves reverberating through my stomach for three and a half hours. Place is loud.
Nor will it be the sting I felt in my ribs when a belligerent giant Cardinals fan elbowed me out of the way as I tried to pull him off of a belligerent giant Eagles fan who had stolen his toilet stall. He gave the same treatment to security guards that followed, and then police officers who slammed his face to the tile and cuffed him. No worse time to be arrested than when you have to drop a deuce.
No, the feeling I'll remember most is the soundwaves reverberating through my stomach for three and a half hours. Place is loud.
Monday, January 19, 2009
My dream
Is to don a half-Cardinals head mask and live inside the bowels of the University of Phoenix Stadium. I will swoop down to block opposing field goals, terrorize enemy fans and pop out of Rambo-like trap doors in the sod to throw blocks downfield for Larry Fitzgerald. I will ensure the Cardinals go to the next 15 Super Bowls.
My only hope is they'll be able to get someone better than Andrew Lloyd Webber to write a rock opera about me.
My only hope is they'll be able to get someone better than Andrew Lloyd Webber to write a rock opera about me.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Arizona Cardinals
Wow, Cardinals, I don't know what's most amazing - the fact that you took an 18 point lead over the Eagles or the fact that you lost that lead in the span of 15 minutes.
Wait, I know what it is - YOU'RE GOING TO THE SUPER BOWL!!! This improves the awesomeness of my general life by a factor of 15,000. The air is sweeter, pizza is cheesier and Double Stuff Oreos are now Quadruple Stuff Oreos. The world is better now, because Larry Fitzgerald has grabbed it out of the sky with one hand.
Wait, I know what it is - YOU'RE GOING TO THE SUPER BOWL!!! This improves the awesomeness of my general life by a factor of 15,000. The air is sweeter, pizza is cheesier and Double Stuff Oreos are now Quadruple Stuff Oreos. The world is better now, because Larry Fitzgerald has grabbed it out of the sky with one hand.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Good things that have happened this week
The Arizona Cardinals are playing in the NFC championship. I'm going. I finished writing my latest book. The newspaper where I work, unlike a couple others I know of, has no plans of folding this month. The Arizona Wildcats have not yet gotten pummeled by UCLA or USC on their Los Angeles trip. My boy turned two. My daughter prepared for her birth in less than a month. My wife threw a birthday party that didn't entirely drain our bank account. I found a way to watch the first three episodes of the new season of "Flight of the Conchords" that doesn't involve piracy.
Maybe things do get better than this, but not by much.
Maybe things do get better than this, but not by much.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Perez Hilton
I titled this post "Perez Hilton" to see if Perez Hilton is narcissistic enough to spot and click on this Perez Hilton Link when it pops up if he googles Perez Hilton or has Perez Hilton as a keyword on his google reader. We'll see if Perez Hilton clicks on Perez Hilton. I'll report back on the results later. Perez Hilton.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Hammer Time
When did Hammer Time begin and when did it end? Or does it still go on in an alternate dimension? Perhaps in that alternate dimension Hammer Time is indeed 2 legit 2 quit. But my suspicions is although legit, Hammer Time was not 2 much so 2 necessitate quitting. There's only one truth we can count on - we got to pray just to make it today. This sort of truth is one you cannot touch.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
$138.50 buys a trip to heaven
Bought a ticket for the Arizona Cardinals' once-in-a-lifetime appearance in the NFC title game Sunday. Lucky enough to get the ticket on Ticketmaster because the game was sold out in minutes. Going with my dad, who is probably the only other 20-year fan (including the Cardinals' pathetic owners, who for so long made decisions that revealed their inert hatred of the franchise) of the Phoenix/Arizona Cardinals.
I believe they will win, just as I have believed the Cardinals would win going into every other game they've played since I was 10. If Arizona maintains its newfound hot streak, it's on to the Super Bowl. And my heart will explode into a billion pieces of confetti, covering the land in bliss and dreams.
The tickets were expensive - $138.50, in case you forgot to read the headline - but given their intrinsic worth I believe I underpaid by about $10 million dollars. On Sunday University of Phoenix Stadium will become a cathedral to the league's most defeat-ridden franchise. Believers will gather and shout the forces of good to victory, with the shared faith that just once Lucy will not pull the football away from Charlie Brown as he runs in to kick it.
The Cardinals represent the impossible and the besieged. The marginalized and the moribund. If Arizona can win than anyone can. And that is why they must.
I believe they will win, just as I have believed the Cardinals would win going into every other game they've played since I was 10. If Arizona maintains its newfound hot streak, it's on to the Super Bowl. And my heart will explode into a billion pieces of confetti, covering the land in bliss and dreams.
The tickets were expensive - $138.50, in case you forgot to read the headline - but given their intrinsic worth I believe I underpaid by about $10 million dollars. On Sunday University of Phoenix Stadium will become a cathedral to the league's most defeat-ridden franchise. Believers will gather and shout the forces of good to victory, with the shared faith that just once Lucy will not pull the football away from Charlie Brown as he runs in to kick it.
The Cardinals represent the impossible and the besieged. The marginalized and the moribund. If Arizona can win than anyone can. And that is why they must.
Wednesday, January 07, 2009
Hulk men
I was watching "Hulk Vs." with my 1-year-old boy Luke. Hulk was battling Wolverine, chasing him around, beating him into a bloody mess and wrecking countless trees in the forest.
I asked Luke who he wanted to win, Hulk or Wolverine. Without hesitation he replied "Hulk," which I found funny because he was so obviously the bad guy in the situation. Then I realized that I had been rooting for the Hulk all along as well, but was so sure Wolverine would escape that I hadn't acknowledged my yearning. Wolverine is annoying and whiny, and the Hulk was doing his best to eradicate the problem. We Villarreals, we're Hulk men.
I asked Luke who he wanted to win, Hulk or Wolverine. Without hesitation he replied "Hulk," which I found funny because he was so obviously the bad guy in the situation. Then I realized that I had been rooting for the Hulk all along as well, but was so sure Wolverine would escape that I hadn't acknowledged my yearning. Wolverine is annoying and whiny, and the Hulk was doing his best to eradicate the problem. We Villarreals, we're Hulk men.
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
Beware the beerwolf
You may have heard of wolves, beer and werewolves. But one thing you haven't heard of is the beerwolf. These mythical beasts are invisible and live inside cans of beer.
It's they, not alcohol, that make you drunk. Beerwolves accomplish the task by sinking their invisible teeth into the sector of your brain that handles inhibition, infecting the sector with the ancient beerwolf curse that renders it null and void.
When multiple beers are chugged, the beerwolves band together inside your head, forming a vicious beerwolf pack from which escape is impossible. They tend to colonize inside the heads of alcoholics and can generate effective settlements that lead to entire societies and eventually civilizations, complete with elected government officials and scandal-ridden senate appointments.
If you can capture beerwolves they make pretty good pets, though. You don't trip over them because not only are they invisible, they have no mass and in fact are imaginary. This also helps cut down on food costs and tick spray.
It's they, not alcohol, that make you drunk. Beerwolves accomplish the task by sinking their invisible teeth into the sector of your brain that handles inhibition, infecting the sector with the ancient beerwolf curse that renders it null and void.
When multiple beers are chugged, the beerwolves band together inside your head, forming a vicious beerwolf pack from which escape is impossible. They tend to colonize inside the heads of alcoholics and can generate effective settlements that lead to entire societies and eventually civilizations, complete with elected government officials and scandal-ridden senate appointments.
If you can capture beerwolves they make pretty good pets, though. You don't trip over them because not only are they invisible, they have no mass and in fact are imaginary. This also helps cut down on food costs and tick spray.
Monday, January 05, 2009
My favorite part of the newscast
Is the last segment, on the waterskiing squirrels. They're so cheerful and innocent, never contesting elections, selling senate appointments or asking for bailouts. And they don't even get involved in sex scandals very often.
Those little guys are just amazing.
Those little guys are just amazing.
Sunday, January 04, 2009
Businesses I hope the recession will destroy
Exxon - Revenge for the oil spill.
Chase - So the Diamondbacks' home field has to change its name again.
The University of Phoenix - Same reason as Chase, only for the Cardinals' stadium.
McDonald's - So Burger King an finally ascend from princedom to the throne.
Michael's - So my wife is no longer tempted to blow our bank account in its aisles.
The Dallas Cowboys - Because I hate them.
Apple - Because I can't afford an iPhone and am jealous of those that can.
The Big Three - Because the journalism industry isn't getting a bailout and I'm bitter.
Twitter, Facebook and MySpace - Because social networking is annoying and needs to go. The presence of MySpace here is redundant because it would be toast even in a boom economy.
Arizona State University - Without ASU NAU and U of A could split the state funds and grow stronger.
Toyota - The Saved By Zero commercials. I realize Toyota heard the criticism and ditched the ad campaign, but it was a mortal sin. No absolution.
Geico - So I stop getting all their junk mail.
Chase - So the Diamondbacks' home field has to change its name again.
The University of Phoenix - Same reason as Chase, only for the Cardinals' stadium.
McDonald's - So Burger King an finally ascend from princedom to the throne.
Michael's - So my wife is no longer tempted to blow our bank account in its aisles.
The Dallas Cowboys - Because I hate them.
Apple - Because I can't afford an iPhone and am jealous of those that can.
The Big Three - Because the journalism industry isn't getting a bailout and I'm bitter.
Twitter, Facebook and MySpace - Because social networking is annoying and needs to go. The presence of MySpace here is redundant because it would be toast even in a boom economy.
Arizona State University - Without ASU NAU and U of A could split the state funds and grow stronger.
Toyota - The Saved By Zero commercials. I realize Toyota heard the criticism and ditched the ad campaign, but it was a mortal sin. No absolution.
Geico - So I stop getting all their junk mail.
Thursday, January 01, 2009
Turtles aren't green
Being a father of a 1-year-old, I often find myself forced to lie in order to hold up social conventions. Chief among them is the fallacy that turtles are green. Maybe one out of every 200 turtles you see are actually green. All the rest are grayish brown. Yet children's books and TV shows declare them universally green, and saps like me go along with the fraud.
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