If your local NPR station carries the comedy show Rewind, please listen to it this weekend and laugh uproariously at the sketch I wrote based on this post, and then later go to a party, drink four too many Cosmopolitians, and try to describe the skit to some other people, but get all the details wrong, and say “And then there was this part about a shoehorn … wait, was there a shoehorn? I’m pretty sure there was a shoehorn …” and finally give up with a “well, you should of heard it.” Would you do that? Would you do that, please? Or you can listen to it online; my bit appears 19 minutes and 15 seconds into the RealAudio broadcast. Either way, it’s the drinking too much part that’s important.
Month: August 2002
How To Cope With A Disfiguring Sunburn
Cover the burned area with aloe vera gel. This will make you smell so odd that no one will come close enough to touch you.
To make the Universally Recognized Sunburned Warning Noise, grit your teeth, pull back your lips, press your tongue against the back of your incisors and inhale briskly.
After receiving a second- or third-degree burn, wait at least 30 minutes before moshing.
If your spouse is insufficiently sympathetic, be sure to mention how much it hurts after each and every movement.
When showering, remember to scream from the diaphragm.
If arms and legs are burned, walk like a robot from a 1950’s science-fiction movie. This will in no way reduce the discomfort, but at least you will look like an idiot.
When the eleventh coworker enters your office and says “Hey, did you know you got sunburned?,” we recommend either garroting or defenestration.
If your future is so bright that you gotta wear shades, try neglecting your homework, enraging your parents, and alienating your beautiful girlfriend. This will dim your future and prevent exacerbation of the burn.
Avoid movies starring Adam Sandler. Forever.
While sunburnt, always carry and drink from a fifth of scotch. People will think you are flush from drunkenness, and not realize that you are too stupid to put on sunblock.
Movie: Signs
The following contains very mild spoilers for Signs, The Sixth Sense and Unbreakable.
Previously I have mentioned that, after spending money to see the dismal Phantom Menace, I felt like Lucas owed me a movie. This feeling goes both ways. After the magnificent Sixth Sense and the terrific-in-an-entirely-different-way Unbreakable, I feel like I owe M. Night Shyamalan. I will therefore see anything he writes and directs. Unless he keeps writing and directing movies like Signs, in which case I may reconsider.
Signs is 97% fantastic. Unfortunately, the remaining 3% constitute the Big Ending. Now, if a movie has a Big Ending, I usually refrain from even mentioning this when I talk about it, as foreknowledge of a Big Ending is a spoiler onto itself — if you’d known that The Sixth Sense had a Big Ending, the twist probably wouldn’t have been nearly as powerful as it was. But Shyamalan is now a victim of his own success: people know, going into his films, that there’s going to be a Big Ending, and, to judge from his previous efforts, it’s going to be a Great Ending. Furthermore, Signs spends its first 97% essentially setting up and then putting off the revelation of facts over and over again. You know of the existence of a Big Ending well before you reach it, because you know that, at some point, he’s going to have to explain what the hell is going on. This is different from his other films, where you think you know what’s going on throughout, and The Ending serves to demonstrate that, no, in fact you didn’t. You could have lopped the last five minutes off either The Sixth Sense or Unbreakable and still had a mighty fine flick on your hands, albeit it one with an entirely different meaning.
So there are two independent forces at work, here, each ratcheting up excitement for Signs’ Big Ending: expectations carried over from Shyamalan’s other films, and the narrative structure of Signs itself. That’s a lot to live up to. And, I am sad to report, that the Big Ending didn’t quite do the trick for me. Signs doesn’t sprint across the finish line so much as stagger. Even half an hour before The Ending you can already see it start to stumble.
So should 3% of so-soness negate 97% of greatness? Maybe, when so much of that 97% is geared towards building up tension for the three. But, on the other hand, up until the Big Ending I was enjoying Signs more than any other film I’d seen this year. And it therefore gets a recommendation with a caveat: enjoy the ride, because the destination is something of a let-down.
Seven-Dollar Watermelon
The other day I bought a seven-dollar watermelon. That seemed pretty expensive until I realized that it came with a free band name.
Great Name For a Blog
Speaking of which, here’s a great name for a blog: “Interview With a Vamp’s Ire”.
No, wait! Wait! You didn’t use it, did you? I just realized that that’s a completely stupid name for a blog! Oh no, you did? You already used it? You already named your blog “Interview With a Vamp’s Ire” and registered interviewwithavampsire.com and publicized the whole thing on BlogSnob? Ah geeze, I’m sorry. Man, it seemed really funny when I thought it up.
Books: Interview With a Vampire
I don’t like chess. That is to say, I love the idea of chess — the idea that it is essentially a mathematical battle, with every move changing the equation of possible moves and strategies — but I find playing chess a bit of a bore. Apparently I have similar feelings about vampires. I’m a big Buffy buff, and I love the idea of vampires. But when it comes down to reading an entire book about ’em, I get bored quickly. I didn’t know this when I picked up Anne Rice’s Interview With a Vampire. In fact, 30 pages into it I told my wife that I was already so engrossed that I expected to finish it in a day or two. Three weeks later I trudged to the end.
The problem with Interview With a Vampire is that it is — surprise! — about vampires. Not about exciting vampiric adventures, or about people who fight vampires, or about the relationship between vampires and mortals — no, it’s just about run-of-the-mill vampires and their everyday (or, rather, evernight) lives. The whole book revolves around one completely unremarkable vampire, and reads like a biography of some ordinary schmoe off the street, if said schmoe were to suck blood and require sunblock SPF 94.
This is the part in the book review where I generally talk a bit about the plot. But, man, I’m serious here: not a whole lot happens. In fact, if you want a good synopsis of the few bits of action, I’d heartily recommend renting the movie, which I quite enjoyed. The film, bereft of (interminable) internal monologues, is exactly what I’d hoped the book to be. And Tom Cruise is surprisingly good.
So now allow me to qualify everything I’ve said thus far by adding that Interview is actually a very well-written book. I picked it up expecting a poorly-written pulp novel and found it to be the exact opposite. And if I were really into vampires — instead of being the goth-poseur that I apparently am — I would have loved it, would probably be halfway through the third in the series by now. So before opting for Interview, ask yourself this: do you like vampires, or do you just like the idea of vampires? (If you answered “neither” then what the hell are you doing even reading this? Besides, you’re a liar: everyone loves the idea of vampires, at the very least.) If you fall into the first category then, by all means, read Interview — it gets a hearty and sincere recommendation from me. But if you, like me, prefer your vampires one-dimensional and perpetually either on the giving (Blade) or receiving (Buffy) end of an ass-kicking, you may want to steer clear.
For the record: I thought the book Dracula was pretty pointless as well. So my track record with the undead is pretty weak all around.
defective yeti’s Fashion Tip #11
Don’t sleep on wet hair.
I posted this photo to FilePile. My favorite comment: “And I ran, I ran so far away …”
Note: Insofar as this picture constitutes 1000 words, I am taking the remainder of the day off, yeti-wise.
Adrenaline Addiction
The guy sitting next to me on the bus was filling out a magazine quiz entitled “Are You Addicted To Adrenaline?” At one point he checked a box so aggressively that the tip of his pen perforated the page.
Bush Administration Reverses Position
Reversing a long-held position, the Bush Administration today denounced child abduction. "Our nation grieves with every family that has suffered unbearable loss," the President declared, "and our nation will fight the threats against our children." But Democrats were quick to point out that, in an effort to attract the libertarian and "soccer mom" vote, Bush promised throughout the 2000 election that he would seek to increase child abductions if elected. "This is a major U-turn for the President," said Senate Majority Leader Tom Daschle. "Now that Big Business is afraid of losing the next generation of clerks and cashiers, Bush suddenly becomes anti-kidnapping. The American people will see this for what it really is: an expedient, politically-motivated ploy." White House Spokesman Ari Fleischer, meanwhile, insists that the new policy of denouncing child abductions is in no way inconsistent with the administration's strong pro-abduction stance.
Hello genetic engineers!
Hello genetic engineers! It seems like every week I read about how you guys invented some crazy new type of animal. But it’s never anything useful like a rapping monkey, it’s inevitably some dumb thing like a thirty pound squirrel or a lactating seahorse. It’s pretty obvious that you guys are just making stuff up as you go along instead of fulfilling specific needs.
So here you go! This weekend I collected, like, three Hefty-bag’s worth of apples that had fallen from the huge apple tree in my back yard. It was a total drag, because the apples were on the ground, and it took forever to get them all, and now my back is killing me. So here’s what I need. I need an appleless apple tree. You got that? No, don’t just say “yeah,” write it down. Appleless apple tree. If you don’t write it down you are just going to forget, and then later you’ll try to remember and probably get it all wrong and make an appleful apple tree or something. And Lord knows I don’t need an appleful apple tree — I already got one of those, that’s the problem.
Once you’ve created it, send it to
Matthew Baldwin
c/o defective yeti
1467 Park –
Ahhhhh, you know what? Never mind. I’m not going to give you my address. At that big Seattle WTO boondoggle a few years back, there were some hippies who were against genetic engineering, and they dressed up like giant ears of corn with fangs. And I’m afraid that if I gave you my address you’d just carelessly leave it laying around where a giant fanged ear of corn could find it, and I totally don’t need that right now. So here’s what we’ll do: when you’ve invented the appleless apple tree, drop me an email and we’ll arrange a place to meet.
I would also like a glo-in-the-dark pony and a dog that can play basketball. Thanks.