From a Fox PR:
'Should your height determine whom you find attractive? Of course not! THE LITTLEST GROOM will venture where no other show has gone by helping a young man who is 4'5" tall to find true love. Initially believing he will choose among women of similar stature to his own, he later discovers, in a surprising twist, that some average-sized women will enter the picture. Will his ideal mate be a little person, or will she be of average height?'
Last night, Lindsey and I had a conversation concerning the value of television. While she often has strong feelings against many of the shows and commercials that TV can subject a person too, I feebly championed the glimpses of worthwhile entertainment that it offers. Then I saw this blurb in the morning paper. Oh well.
I think it can be agreed that TV is often used as a drug, and can be just as addictive as one.
Here's what The Littlest Groom himself had to say to the New York Post:
"It's not every day you see a little person - let alone get to know their personal lives," he said. "All I know is that I had a great time doing this show and never for a second felt exploited."
"If someone is going to be close-minded, then they don't know what reality is themselves," he said. "This is the world we live in - people need to get over themselves."
Hump day hits less like a true road hump and more like a road bump: quickly yet much more jarring.
Unrelated to that comment, I heard some good discussion at lunch today about the democratic primaries. Some profs were leading students in talking about the various campaigns and the state of the democratic party (as well as the whole democratic process). Many people seem to be leaning towards Dean for two main reasons (from what I gathered): first is that he's working with more of a 'grassroots' finance campaign, as a good portion of his money appears to come from his website. Secondly is the firmness with which he's stating his political goals and beliefs. While most other candidates are dancing around the war and issues surrounding it, Dean has solidly declared his distaste for the whole situation. One of the profs at the session pointed out that this, while certainly alienating people who are pro-war, has tugged at the desire of a good many citizens to see a politician stand up against the Bush administration so firmly.
I just think the guy is a good candidate because he's actually got some personality and enthusiasm.
It seems that Furst and I are running tandem theological debates. If you haven't seen his yet, it's far better than mine.
Also, have you all seen the clip of Dean post-Iowa? Good stuff. And the Daily Show from last Tuesday was priceless.
It's a few days late, but I thought it was amusing enough to share. Ahh, the Onion.
After repeated goading by Furstie, then a good period of laziness followed by confusion, I've finally re-worked my comments to be readable! Accompaning this change is the ability to re-work other colors on the site, a power which I'll be applying more in the near future.
Trent, I meant to announce my victory in Klingon, but I have no idea how to spell it.
Anyway, after much reading and thorough deliberation, I decided that the site of the other day's discussion is legit. I know it seems crazy, but there are a few email links to people in case someone wants to contact them with questions and the like. I also can't believe that someone would put that much time and effort into a 'fake' site without making it a bit more obvious that it's not true, a-la The Onion, which consistently re-affirms it's own faslehood with stories like "Ashcroft rejected by Bride of Ashcroft."
In a very different set of events, there was a recent breakdance party at the Vatican that you can catch a clip of here. Who says religion can't be fun?
ADDENDUM:
I'm having trouble getting that link to work correctly. If you just follow along here and find the news clip about it, you can see the video - it's damn funny.
If this link doesn't just pop the video up, but brings up another video, just click on the 'more' tab under the screen and it's the fourth link down in the 'World News' column.
Jenny Mosher just pointed me to this site. I didn't think people still believed this stuff, but there you have it.
The Flagstaff boys could probably have some good debate on the topic if I remember correctly from the time that the evangelists approached us outside our dorm and Shane took on the Great Debate with them, then continued it inside with Eric and I. Eric, I'd be interested to hear what you think about the whole thing. Anyone else with and opinion is welcome to chime in. Maybe we can get Anon to flame our liberal, academic selves again.
Howdy all.
Tonight, Jack had to leave early from our study session in order to meet with Lia and watch The Apprentice on NBC, prompting me to gag at Jack's sell-out behavior for the second time in a week.
Last night, a few of us (and by 'a few' I mean 'many') went out to E-9 in celebration of Jenny Mosher's 21st. After a critical defeat when my beer was fouled because the table-top was entirely unattached to the base, I spent the remainder of the night nursing my glass of Jameson's and wishing I could turn back time like Ashton Kutcher. Alas.
Also, today in my first session of Electromagnetism I decided that I don't want to go on in physics at all. I had romantic ideas of taking the Physics GRE in the spring before then, but lo! it all washed to nothing.
Ah, the wonderful power of college.
So tomorrow it's back to the books (today for a few of you that won't read this 'till Tuesday). This semester is shaping up to be much improved on the last, a prospect I'm excited for. This morning we had a big pancake breakfast to help break in the new term in style, and in the coming month there's a party in the works to celebrate the combined birthdays of Johnny, Mark, Jack and Peter. In other words, this semester looks to be not-so-dark.
Trent Dupuy, on the other hand, asked me to give him my version of his darker side. I would say the meanest streak I've seen in the guy is his combined academic/sexual snobbery (that's a word, says I). At some point during the summer, he informed me that he would rather quit his 'job' as a peer mentor than get stuck with a math major. Worse yet, a male math major. I guess he specifically asked to be paired with a female nutrition major, and was highly dissapointed with the mentee he got (can you guess which one?).
Word.
I decided that rather than explaining the full details of The Cranberries concert adventure, I'd give you a list of the things that make the story so amuzing:
1) Trent had two pairs of tickets to see The Cranberries in L.A. on the third of July. One pair that he purchased on the Ticketmaster website, and one pair that he later got on E-Bay for 200 dollars (they were second row I believe).
2) Unable to sell the earlier pair, Trent's family made plans to drive from Louisiana to L.A. where they would visit his aunt and use the extra tickets.
3) Unsure of their plans, Trent's parents bought him a 300 dollar plane ticket to L.A. separately, 'just in case.'
4) The Mark III van that they did end up bringing along I-40 had no air conditioning.
5) After returning from the concert, the Dupuy family made a side trip up to the Grand Canyon and Vegas, where they stayed and participated in The Star Trek Experience. Trent brought back a mug to prove it.
6) As of the first week of August, Trent had still not contacted the airline company for a refund on his unused ticket.
Suffering from a lack of creativity, I bring you another installment of 'The Lighter Side of Trent Dupuy.'
One thing that initially struck me about Trent was his large collection of cds that he'd brough from home. I mean large too - there had to be a couple hundred in five, three-foot tall, stacks! They were all arranged in alphabetical order and the most remarkable thing about them was not really the sheer volume itself, but the percentage of the cds that were female singers/bands. I had no idea that many even existed, but there you have it, at least a hundred different cds ranging from Cheryl Crow to the Old 97s stacked along the wall.
Anyway, since I'm damn tired, I'll leave you with that oddity, and finish this clifhanger tomorrow or something. Just know that it involves The Cranberries, Independance Day, and a Mark III van with no air conditioning.
I forgot to mention this site over the weekend. It's an advertising contest to create the best anti-Bush commercials, with a range of celebrity judges from Jack Black and Micheal Moore to Moby and Rufus Wainright (and a few political commentators in between). If you haven't seen it yet, check it out.
Trent.com is now up and running, with the strong potential for providing me solid subject matter from now on. In an effort to help usher in our young friend from Shreveport, I'm going (for the next few days) to be sharing some of my fonder stories from my summer with him in Flagstaff and beyond, in a segment I'd like to call 'The Lighter Side of Trent Dupuy.'
My first installment brings us to the early-July barbeque with the REU students and a few of the mentors over at Will (the Pluto guy)'s house, where Trent has just discovered that Eric has the power to buy alcahol. As I watched bemused, Trent lays down a 'hypothetical' in which Eric is at Safeway and he is also at Safeway. Eric immediately begins to refuse (I don't think he had even bought anything for himself by this point), and Trent gets desparate. He explains that he only wants some hard liquor to drink as a nightcap, because the only thing alcahol does is make him sleepy.
It's at this point that I step in and question Trent for the first time. "Wait," I say. "You mean to tell me that alcahol, in any amount, only serves to make you drowsy, and in no way affects anything else about you?"
"Well," responds Trent, "that's not entirely true. I guess it does improve my motor skills as well."
Dumbfounded stare.
"No seriously!" he continues. "After I've had a few? You should see me dance!"
So, in the end Alec did puke. Multiple times.
At 2am, when it was time to leave the bar, Alec chugged the last few sips of his beer. Then he started tossing his dinner into the pint glass, filling it completely. I grabbed him and rushed him into the bathroom where he went strait to the big sink that was more like a wash basin and filled it too. I tried to get him to a toilet, but he wouldn't go. Afterwards, Jared and I explained to him the ettiquite of drunk puking: just ditch the pride and go for the toilet, it's the right thing to do.
The next morning, before Alec went to school, he woke Jared and I to the (loud) sound of hurling for a second time. When I finally got up after he left, I found he had puked in the kitchen sink. Jared was slightly mistified that Alec didn't seem to understand what we had told him.
I guess then at school he puked a few times in the bathroom while Buddy waited outside. He was supposedly so loud that it attracted the attention of school security. The guard was cool though, Alec explained about his birthday and the guy helped him clean up and everything. Alec came back home with a red face from having burst his blood-vessels.
Anyway, Alec said that through it all he enjoyed himself a lot. Good work buddy, Happy 21st.
I've got a few minutes before Alec returns from his first beer run ever. At dinner I ordered him a Prairie Fire in front of our parents. He took it down well, then started tearing up a minute later, my mom thought it was pretty funny.
Last night as we pulled in to the house, Alec got his first present. See, there are these 'decorative' lamps of sorts that line our driveway. Over the past few years, my dad, mom, and I have taken out nearly every one backing down the drive, while Alec watches and laughs from the house. With all the snow in the driveway, my dad couldn't make it all the way up and ended up just skidding sideways, slamming into one of the lights with the tail of the van. Alec immediately knew what happened and burst into laughter, that infectious laughter of his that got us all going. It turns out that my dad had hit the one lamp that Alec had predicted was impossible to hit. My dad just laughed and wished Alec a happy birthday.
So here I go, we're off to Magoo's Annex in a bit. Here's to hoping Alec doesn't puke.
Today I leave Boston to head back home. Andrew bro, just wanted to let you know it was good hanging out. Someday, we'll be next-door neighbors like Peter and Lawrence, but until then I'm glad to be able to fly around like we do.
I added a new link to my Froo Froo section upon Andrew's request. Seriously, you guys should check out these links, it's all pretty good stuff. Or else it wouldn't be on my site, but I would hope that goes without saying.
Well hello.
Though the last couple days have gone by somewhat uneventfully, I've come to two conclusions:
1) After watching Miller's Crossing for the first time, I've decided that the Coen Brothers have got to be consistently the best movie-makers out there.
2) Upon visiting the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston, I determined that I really like Impressionist painting.
Of course, these conclusions are not so new. I really liked the Impressionist work I saw in Paris, and Big Lebowski is high on the running for all time favorite movie. So I guess these are really 'resolves' more than 'conclusions.' And that's that.
My two cents.
Once again, my preconcieved notions fail to come around. Last night Andrew, Michelle, and I took part in First Night, the 'non-alcaholic,' city-wide celebration that actually originated here in Boston before spreading to the rest of the U.S.
After seeing a few things over the course of the evening, we decided to head over to the public library, where an event called 'At the Movies' was taking place. In their first year here, Andrew and Michelle had gone to something similar there for First Night that was a really cool look at silent film and Buster Keaton. Based on this, we headed for the Library.
By the time we got there, a huge line had formed that was waiting to get in. We took our chances and ended up a few of the last people before they closed the doors. We sat down in an auditorium sort of thing, and then took notice of the man in shirt and tie in front of an electric keyboard at the front. Turned out it wasn't a film thing at all.
Instead, we were treated to nearly a full hour of the 'At the Movies' Quartet, singing such 50s and 60s hits as "Yellow Submarine," "Imagine," and "The Look of Love." Picture that SNL skit where the schoolteaching couple jokes about their personal problems between medleys of popular songs. It was that cheesy.
The scariest thing was how many people there were seriously enjoying themselves. I mean, it was all I could do to hold back from laughing out loud, and here's the guy in front of me bobbing his head and signing along to at least half the songs. It was like so much of that sweet Velveeta, oozing into my New Years celebration.
On a related note, there were a few people last night who celebrated with a good amount alcahol. Just before the subway pulled up to take us back to Andrew's, two groups of kids showed up cussing and threatning each other. One group looked like a bunch of Abercrombie college boys trying to be hard and the other looked like South Boston High School freshmen trying to be hard.
After yelling and shoving in the station for a while, they all decided to get into the same packed subway car in order to continue the near brawl. There was a whole lot of pushing and shoving, and somehow I ended up sandwiched between the Abercrombies and the Southies. The good portion of my ride home was spent trying to figure out how to slyly get my 'Merry Tubachristmas' hat off without drawing attention to myself.
For you high school guys who might remember, it was like the N.E.B. or Browns Point Cru all over again. All hardcore talking about shooting people in the head and pulling knifes while they readjust their Nautica jackets and check themselves in the subway windows.
Between that and the four person harmonies on the Flinstones Theme, I don't know which was the more painful part of the night.