It's double-stupidity day, as I just found a video commercial for a new acid reflux drug, called Aciphex.
Say it loud, say it proud, watch this video, then check to see if ass-effects is right for you.
Friday, May 02, 2008
Beef: It's what's for drinking
This morning, I opened up one of our company newsletters, supplied by our healthcare carrier, Cigna. This month, the topic is oral health. Here's what it had to say about soft drinks:
The hard truth about soft drinks:
• One out of every four beverages consumed in America today is a soft drink.
• Soft-drink consumption surpasses that of all other beverages, including milk, beef, coffee and water.
Mmm. Nothing like starting the day with a cold glass of beef.
The hard truth about soft drinks:
• One out of every four beverages consumed in America today is a soft drink.
• Soft-drink consumption surpasses that of all other beverages, including milk, beef, coffee and water.
Mmm. Nothing like starting the day with a cold glass of beef.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
The Dude Lives
I've said it before, the best thing about living in Los Angeles is that you can see things you totally cannot see anywhere else. Like recently, when friends from NJ had come to visit we saw a 70s-style pimped out dude with a 70s-style fro driving a beat-up Trans Am and blasting funk music REALLY loud in the parking lot of my local Ralphs grocery store. About an hour later, we were driving through Silverlake and we saw a girl riding a motorcycle pasted with stickers for brand-name dildos and buttplugs. And not too long after that, I saw a guy walking across the street, dancing in circles, doing little two-steps, sashaying back and forth as a line of traffic waited for him to cross so they could make a right turn. He was wearing a weird hat, and was obviously more interested in putting on a show than in crossing the street before the light turned red on him. It's the little moments like these that make me love LA, and made me buy a cell phone with a camera, so I could always capture those moment.
Anyway, I did some food shopping at the aforementioned Culver City Ralphs this evening. It's not unusual on a Saturday morning, or even a Thursday night to see people doing their grocery shopping in their pajamas, or hair curlers and what have you. Good for them, I usually say. Tonight, I say, great for them, because tonight, I saw "The Dude."
A long haired, middle-age guy in a wife beater, bermuda shorts, a ratty green bathrobe and flip flops was shopping at 8 pm. I did a double take just at that, and then I saw what he was carrying: a bottle of Kahlua! And he was walking right over to the milk case to select the other vital component of the white russian. I shit you not.
I know The Dude is based on an actual guy, and I'm going to believe that it was this actual guy in my supermarket, rather than just some hipster dude setting up for a Lebowski theme party.
Unfortunately, I didn't have my cell phone with me to take a picture. And I felt a little weird taking a picture in the supermarket. But this one really required visual proof and I'm gonna be kicking myself for not snapping that picture. I decided, though, that I have to go back next Saturday to see if he comes back. Since Saturday is Shabbat, chances are he won't be bowling that night.
Anyway, I did some food shopping at the aforementioned Culver City Ralphs this evening. It's not unusual on a Saturday morning, or even a Thursday night to see people doing their grocery shopping in their pajamas, or hair curlers and what have you. Good for them, I usually say. Tonight, I say, great for them, because tonight, I saw "The Dude."
A long haired, middle-age guy in a wife beater, bermuda shorts, a ratty green bathrobe and flip flops was shopping at 8 pm. I did a double take just at that, and then I saw what he was carrying: a bottle of Kahlua! And he was walking right over to the milk case to select the other vital component of the white russian. I shit you not.
I know The Dude is based on an actual guy, and I'm going to believe that it was this actual guy in my supermarket, rather than just some hipster dude setting up for a Lebowski theme party.
Unfortunately, I didn't have my cell phone with me to take a picture. And I felt a little weird taking a picture in the supermarket. But this one really required visual proof and I'm gonna be kicking myself for not snapping that picture. I decided, though, that I have to go back next Saturday to see if he comes back. Since Saturday is Shabbat, chances are he won't be bowling that night.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Dude, I think I'm Wii-Sick
I think I'm about to coin a phrase here, so stand by my peeps, while I lay some new English on ya. Remember, you saw it here first.
So, I've had my Wii now for about two months, and I love it. It's one of the few electronic gizmos that I haven't yet experienced a decrease in interest for, and the first video game since the heyday of Atari that my feeble, fumbly fingers have been able to manage well enough to not get frustrated with after 10 minutes of atempting to play.
After my Wii arrived, I played around with the Sports pack and got hooked on the baseball and bowling games. As these are two of the few sports I can actually play in the physical world, I found the action to be familiar and natural, and I started to gain back my form and strength.
The morning after, I noticed that my back was kinda sore. Like when I had sprained it trying to learn to surf. Like I had been lifting 100 pound weights for hours. Except I knew I hadn't been to the gym lately and I couldn't imagine how I could have strained those particular muscles that I'd been training into a nice, soft, veal-y existence with hours upon hours of carefully planned television watching. And then it hit me that this video game had actually made me use those muscles again. This was revolutionary. If this game could get me to sweat and get exercise, what else could it get me to do.
Of course. It could get me to pick up a crossbow.
The next game I picked up was Link's crossbow training, which taught me that I would make an excellent sniper. For this game, the Wiimote and nunchuck sits in a crossbow housing designed with unique and esquisitely simple engineering, and I spent the better part of a week shooting at kargaroks, chilfos and ooca-carried targets to their complete and total annihilation.
Armed with the power high of my Wii success, I decided to tackle a more popular game... but theonly thing available for rent at Blockbuster was a game called Manhunter 2, where you help a wrongly-imprisoned mental hospital inmate escape by shanking guards with hypodermic needles and kicking the crap out of fellow cellmates. Sounds like some good, dirty fun.
The 360-degree viewpoint game requires you to move through areas of alternating dim and brightly flashing light, making it hard to see where you need to go, and giving off an overall claustrophobic feeling to boot.
After about 30 minutes of maneuvering around really quickly, stabbing enemies and searching frantically for the exit from the cell block, I noticed I was getting a bit dizzy and sweaty. Since I was sitting down for this game, I knew I wasn't straining my muscles this time. Something else was going on.
I played for about 10 more minutes, until the slight dizziness gave way to lightheadedness and a rumbling in my stomach. I actually had to put the game away and go lie down for a minute, pondering what I could have done to make me feel so suddenly awful, like I had been reading in the car or rolling on some rough seas. Wait. Was that it? Seriously? Was I getting seasick from the Wii.
Holy crap. Did I just get Wii-Sick?
My god. I have friends who can't watch movies filmed by hand-held cameras because they get dizzy and nauseous, but they also are afflicted with a full range of motion sickness disorders (hi Ms.E). Sure, I have shitty balance, and my vision is pretty bad, but despite these handicaps, I've never gotten carsick, or airsick, or even so much as remotely queasy from bobbing around in the big wavy ocean. But as cruel fate would have it, my equilibrium and iron-clad constitution was brought down by killer graphics and the ability to view my enemy from all sides with the wave of a wand. Sonovabitch!
Since then, I've been sticking to shooting, puzzle and challenge games and games where I can move a little less quickly if I need to spin around, and so far, so good. Yet another bizarre and annoying anomaly in my physical makeup has been compensated for.
Oh, and I did a quick Google search, and I could not find a single listing for the word Wii-Sick. So it's mine. Take that madam combonym!
So, I've had my Wii now for about two months, and I love it. It's one of the few electronic gizmos that I haven't yet experienced a decrease in interest for, and the first video game since the heyday of Atari that my feeble, fumbly fingers have been able to manage well enough to not get frustrated with after 10 minutes of atempting to play.
After my Wii arrived, I played around with the Sports pack and got hooked on the baseball and bowling games. As these are two of the few sports I can actually play in the physical world, I found the action to be familiar and natural, and I started to gain back my form and strength.
The morning after, I noticed that my back was kinda sore. Like when I had sprained it trying to learn to surf. Like I had been lifting 100 pound weights for hours. Except I knew I hadn't been to the gym lately and I couldn't imagine how I could have strained those particular muscles that I'd been training into a nice, soft, veal-y existence with hours upon hours of carefully planned television watching. And then it hit me that this video game had actually made me use those muscles again. This was revolutionary. If this game could get me to sweat and get exercise, what else could it get me to do.
Of course. It could get me to pick up a crossbow.
The next game I picked up was Link's crossbow training, which taught me that I would make an excellent sniper. For this game, the Wiimote and nunchuck sits in a crossbow housing designed with unique and esquisitely simple engineering, and I spent the better part of a week shooting at kargaroks, chilfos and ooca-carried targets to their complete and total annihilation.
Armed with the power high of my Wii success, I decided to tackle a more popular game... but theonly thing available for rent at Blockbuster was a game called Manhunter 2, where you help a wrongly-imprisoned mental hospital inmate escape by shanking guards with hypodermic needles and kicking the crap out of fellow cellmates. Sounds like some good, dirty fun.
The 360-degree viewpoint game requires you to move through areas of alternating dim and brightly flashing light, making it hard to see where you need to go, and giving off an overall claustrophobic feeling to boot.
After about 30 minutes of maneuvering around really quickly, stabbing enemies and searching frantically for the exit from the cell block, I noticed I was getting a bit dizzy and sweaty. Since I was sitting down for this game, I knew I wasn't straining my muscles this time. Something else was going on.
I played for about 10 more minutes, until the slight dizziness gave way to lightheadedness and a rumbling in my stomach. I actually had to put the game away and go lie down for a minute, pondering what I could have done to make me feel so suddenly awful, like I had been reading in the car or rolling on some rough seas. Wait. Was that it? Seriously? Was I getting seasick from the Wii.
Holy crap. Did I just get Wii-Sick?
My god. I have friends who can't watch movies filmed by hand-held cameras because they get dizzy and nauseous, but they also are afflicted with a full range of motion sickness disorders (hi Ms.E). Sure, I have shitty balance, and my vision is pretty bad, but despite these handicaps, I've never gotten carsick, or airsick, or even so much as remotely queasy from bobbing around in the big wavy ocean. But as cruel fate would have it, my equilibrium and iron-clad constitution was brought down by killer graphics and the ability to view my enemy from all sides with the wave of a wand. Sonovabitch!
Since then, I've been sticking to shooting, puzzle and challenge games and games where I can move a little less quickly if I need to spin around, and so far, so good. Yet another bizarre and annoying anomaly in my physical makeup has been compensated for.
Oh, and I did a quick Google search, and I could not find a single listing for the word Wii-Sick. So it's mine. Take that madam combonym!
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
D'ya like dogz? Or Balloons? Or rationality?
California seriously needs to re-evaluate its priorities. Here are a few propositions that our lawmakers are spending their "valuable" time on.
"Keep your paws off my puppy's privates"
A bill has been introduced that would require pet owners to spay or neuter nearly all cats and dogs by the time they’re 4 months old. Failure to comply would result in a $500 fine (registered breeders would be exempt).
The law is in response to the need for the state to euthanize thousands of stray and unwanted animals. Believe me, I'm all for a reduction in "kill shelters" and I absolutely support anything that protects animals and furthers the efforts of the patron saint of puppy spaying, Bob Barker. My question here is, how the hell do you enforce something like this? Will there be a door-to-door cat-nads task force? Will I be taking little Nemo for an innocent walk, only to have to subject him to the embarrassment of a random search-and-seizure of his sack? And what about the poor law officer charged with the task of making sure that our female furry friends are no longer able to get their freaks on? Does the state budget have enough money in it for all the extra rubber gloves?
Hurting 'em or helium?
Next up is a bill that could blow up in the faces of the party industry. This past week, a legislative panel voted to support a ban on sales of metallic, helium-filled balloons beginning in 2010. Apparently, they are the third-largest cause of power failures in the city of Burbank, CA, and a great general concern due to the proclivity of released balloons to get caught on power lines.
Here's my favorite part: According to the Los Angeles Times, "Barry Broad is battling the balloon ban...He represents a group of balloon industry firms called the Balloon Council, and says the proposed law is another overreaction by state government to a problem that can be addressed with less drastic results."
First, how do I get on this Balloon Council? Do you need an advanced degree from clown college or something? Second, let's look to our friends, the Floridians, who are looking to pass the "Take your gun to work" law. If Florida isn't concerned with people breaking into a random mall-worker's car in a crowded parking lot, pulling out the gun hidden in there and starting a shooting spree at said lot, does California really need to be concerned with a few party balloons enjoying their freedom? And third...ok, forget third. I'm really only concerned with how I get elected to this Balloon Council thingy.
Prop-A-Razzi
And don't even get me started on the proposed "Britney Law", a proposed ordinance that would impose a 20-yard “personal safety bubble” around celebrity paparazzi magnets. I'm sure it sucks that Britney, and Lindsey, and any other celeb who has to use the bathroom at their local Gas 'N' Gulp causes a three-ring circus of snapshotters. But why does California have to foot the bill of legislating and enforcing this issue of security? Maybe there should be a celeb-tax to raise the necessary funds for this. And what about other people who need and deserve to be able to live their lives without the fear of attack by items more dangerous than digital imaging? Are we proposing a safety bubble around poor people who have no choice but to live in zones of rampant gang activity and other crimes? Hell, I'd like a personal bubble around my car every time I go into the dangerously overcrowded local Target parking lot. Once I get on that Balloon Council, I'll have to see if they have any pull with the Bubble Dissemination League.
"Keep your paws off my puppy's privates"
A bill has been introduced that would require pet owners to spay or neuter nearly all cats and dogs by the time they’re 4 months old. Failure to comply would result in a $500 fine (registered breeders would be exempt).
The law is in response to the need for the state to euthanize thousands of stray and unwanted animals. Believe me, I'm all for a reduction in "kill shelters" and I absolutely support anything that protects animals and furthers the efforts of the patron saint of puppy spaying, Bob Barker. My question here is, how the hell do you enforce something like this? Will there be a door-to-door cat-nads task force? Will I be taking little Nemo for an innocent walk, only to have to subject him to the embarrassment of a random search-and-seizure of his sack? And what about the poor law officer charged with the task of making sure that our female furry friends are no longer able to get their freaks on? Does the state budget have enough money in it for all the extra rubber gloves?
Hurting 'em or helium?
Next up is a bill that could blow up in the faces of the party industry. This past week, a legislative panel voted to support a ban on sales of metallic, helium-filled balloons beginning in 2010. Apparently, they are the third-largest cause of power failures in the city of Burbank, CA, and a great general concern due to the proclivity of released balloons to get caught on power lines.
Here's my favorite part: According to the Los Angeles Times, "Barry Broad is battling the balloon ban...He represents a group of balloon industry firms called the Balloon Council, and says the proposed law is another overreaction by state government to a problem that can be addressed with less drastic results."
First, how do I get on this Balloon Council? Do you need an advanced degree from clown college or something? Second, let's look to our friends, the Floridians, who are looking to pass the "Take your gun to work" law. If Florida isn't concerned with people breaking into a random mall-worker's car in a crowded parking lot, pulling out the gun hidden in there and starting a shooting spree at said lot, does California really need to be concerned with a few party balloons enjoying their freedom? And third...ok, forget third. I'm really only concerned with how I get elected to this Balloon Council thingy.
Prop-A-Razzi
And don't even get me started on the proposed "Britney Law", a proposed ordinance that would impose a 20-yard “personal safety bubble” around celebrity paparazzi magnets. I'm sure it sucks that Britney, and Lindsey, and any other celeb who has to use the bathroom at their local Gas 'N' Gulp causes a three-ring circus of snapshotters. But why does California have to foot the bill of legislating and enforcing this issue of security? Maybe there should be a celeb-tax to raise the necessary funds for this. And what about other people who need and deserve to be able to live their lives without the fear of attack by items more dangerous than digital imaging? Are we proposing a safety bubble around poor people who have no choice but to live in zones of rampant gang activity and other crimes? Hell, I'd like a personal bubble around my car every time I go into the dangerously overcrowded local Target parking lot. Once I get on that Balloon Council, I'll have to see if they have any pull with the Bubble Dissemination League.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)