Since we’re on the subject, here’s some quick thoughts on Television.
I’m starting to worry about Arrested Development. 2 episodes into the new season, and I’m liking the characters a lot less, and the plots are slipping from the absurd to downright silly. I still think it’s the funniest show on TV, but I hope it doesn’t continue the downward trend.
Badgers lose, Packers win. Ryan is torn, but happy.
I talked the Missus into watching The Burbs with me this weekend. Still one of the funniest movies ever made.
Speaking of the Missus, Celia made this prediction on Sunday, November 14 at 8:45PM. The “Boss” on My Big Fat Obnoxious Boss will be a monkey. Mark her words, I think she’s right. I’ll refer back to this post when it’s revealed that she was correct.
Why aren’t you watching Mythbusters? For God’s sake, it’s the best show on cable. If you’re not familiar with it, here are a few quotes from the show to get you started:
Adam Savage: “It just goes to show, don’t grab the third rail with both hands and piss on it from three inches away.”
Jamie Hyneman: “Something seems to be wrong with our Death Ray. I’m standing right in it, and I’m not dead yet.”
Adam Savage: “Let’s say, standard 85-percentile male, right? Six feet, 180 pounds. Uh, proportionally, that’s 72 inches to 180 pounds.” [holds up an action figure for scale-model testing]
Adam Savage: “10 inches tall? 25 pounds. I just did the math. I need him to weigh 25 pounds.”
Jamie Hyneman: “So you’re saying that he needs to be built out of depleted uranium.” Adam Savage: [laughs] “Eh, do you have some? Is it under “D” or “U” over here?”
Adam Savage: “How hard can it be to blow up a room full of gasoline?”
Well, you get the point. I refuse to miss an episode, and plan my day around it. Enough about Television.
Last night I had a dream that I was sitting in the back of an old pickup truck being driven backwards through a wooded area at a high rate of speed by Celia. I was wondering how I had gotten myself into this sort of situation, and how dead I’d be if she were to hit the brakes. Luckily for us, she stopped the truck by a run-down shack and we got out. There, a giant lumberjack of a man shot a flare gun at me, somehow blowing up the shack I was standing in front of. I then wrestled a pitchfork out of the hands of a lanky passerby, and put it through the lumberjack’s neck. As blood exploded from his jugular vein, I threw up and awoke. I didn’t sleep much afterwards.
The weirdest part came this afternoon, when most of that dream came true.
What are you dreaming about?