On important dates and important dates

First, the pointless griping: Film director Bong Joon-ho apparently won a pile of Oscars last night. I have not seen Parasite, which as far as I know features no American superheroes, although my wife has expressed an interest in streaming it once such a thing is available, but I have no reason to disagree with the award given that I saw virtually none of the nominated films, and in fact I’m saying “virtually none” here because I have no idea what was actually nominated for anything and it’s therefore possible that I’ve seen some of them.

Man, I remember when the Oscars were a big deal, personally, and I was seeing 40-50 movies a year. I really miss that, believe it or not; I just don’t have that kind of time any longer, and living in South Bend instead of Chicago means I’m much more limited in what I can see.

Anyway, point is the Goddamned Snowpiercer post is surging again; it’s gotten about as many hits today all by itself as the entire site typically gets in two days, and as it’s only 6 PM I suspect that ratio will be increasing fairly radically by the time I go to bed tonight, and the bump will probably last at least another few days. That post will never, ever die.


So:

  • My wife’s birthday is Thursday;
  • Friday is Valentine’s Day;
  • The 29th is our 12th/3rd anniversary; we were married in 2008 so it has been twelve years, and we were married on Leap Day so this will be the third actual real anniversary we should have.

We typically make a fairly big deal out of Real Anniversaries, although the last big celebration was for our 10th anniversary when we went to see Hamilton in Chicago. We are … somewhat bereft of ideas for any of these things this year; I asked my wife if she wanted to do anything either for her birthday or for Valentine’s Day an hour or so ago and I could see part of her soul die when I asked the question. Before you jump on my case, be aware that neither of us are either especially romantic people or big celebrators of arbitrary dates; we don’t make a big deal out of my birthday either, and Valentine’s Day has always been treated as more of an annoyance instead of an actual thing. So chances are this weekend is not going to be all that big of a deal.

But I wanna do something for our anniversary, dammit, and my first choice– going to Chicago and having dinner at Alinea— got shot down on account of being insanely, grotesquely expensive.

This is where you come in, Internet. What shall we do for our 12th/3rd anniversary? Give us good ideas; we’re broken and don’t have any.

I got to say it was a good day

Went from work directly to my son’s birthday party, which started a bit before I was able to get there. Being late to your own son’s birthday party is not the best feeling in the world, but it’s not like it was avoidable; everyone involved knew I was going to be late.

And then I had to continue to be a teacher for a while while wrangling 20-some-odd elementary kids for two hours.

Then I went to see my mom. Who is home now. Hopefully for good.

Soon it will be bedtime.

Thank a union member if you have a three-day weekend. And if you don’t, consider unionizing.

See ya tomorrow

You were probably expecting me to filibuster out a post long enough to get me over that 850,000 word mark today– which, incidentally, is 70K words longer than the King James Bible.

Nope.  It’s my son’s birthday.  He’s 7.  Hanging out with family tonight.  Behave, y’all.

YAY MATERIALISM

unnamed.jpgThe real bullshit about this picture is that 1) it in no way really captures the level of utter chaos my living room has descended into, while simultaneously capturing perfectly the horror that is my living room carpet; and 2) I cleaned the room when I got home yesterday.  The boy turned 5 on Tuesday and spent all day Sunday acquiring new toys from various and sundry relatives and friends; last night, we took him to the local Toys-R-Us to spend a couple of gift cards and some birthday cash he got.

We, uh, probably should have parceled that shit out over a couple of months or something.  Dude has so many new presents that he hasn’t even taken everything out of the packaging yet, and what with how kids’ toys are packaged nowadays our recycling bin is already overflowing with over a week left until they come pick it up again.  Today is my day off and I’m hiding in the office rather than dealing with the mess; he probably ought to at least help and I just don’t have any Goddamn idea where to put any of the crap anyway.

tl;dr I am fortunate enough that my kid having too many people who love him and want to give him stuff is a problem.

Note that I am not unaware that every single book on a shelf behind all those toys is mine.  He’s a kid; he’s gonna take as many toys as he can get people to give him.  I have no excuse for the vast quantities of crap I’ve accumulated over the years.  The difference is I have places to put my shit.

Oh and also I pay for the mortgage so shut up.


I have, in general, been mostly trying to avoid writing about the election here, which accounts for some, but not all, of the shorter posts lately– if my options are “write about the election” and “not write much” I’ve been choosing the latter far more often than the former, especially since I have Twitter to be militant on anyway.  But this story is too insane to be believed– that Donald Trump’s political organization is so insanely incompetent that, with the rest of today and one business day until the deadline on Monday, Trump isn’t on the ballot in Minnesota yet.

Take a minute and think about how utterly shit you have to be at running things for that to happen.  And people are going to vote for this hairsack.  I mean, I know, I get it– he’s not actually interested in being president and the whole campaign is a grift.  He has no campaign staff, no boots on the ground, no organization, no nothing.  He’s not really running.  I know.  But shit, he’s not even trying to look like he’s taking this seriously.

Best-laid plans and all that

I was thinking about writing some sort of retrospective, possibly quite maudlin post about turning 40 when I got home from work today.

That was before walking seventeen thousand steps during my 11-hour shift.

(NOTE: That is not a complaint.  I love it.)

Instead, I’m gonna read a book and go to bed early.  Maudlin will have to wait.

Love y’all.  G’night.