Tuesday, October 03, 2006
Another Goddamn Weekend, plus the Amazing Race
Oh snap, it’s still only Tuesday and it feels like it should be Thursday at least. My back is sore and my head is tired. If these colors don’t look right to you, try stronger drugs. Meantime, I’ve got so much verbiage stuffed in my little notebook that it’s getting ridiculous, yet I continue to ad-lib the sort of pointless catch-up event-laden “howzitgoin’” post that made Blogsylvania the cultural void it is today. And I am cool with that. I’m just so fascinating a personage that the details of how I spent my weekend are still more interesting than most infotainment programming on your local network affiliate. Do I sound cocky? Well some folk can’t help it, slim. Points of proof:
We went to the park on Saturday to visit the De Young tower and get a glimpse of the construction of the new science museum. I can’t watch these videos where I’m sitting now but I think they’ll give you a sense of how COOL this place will be once it opens. Our little sightseeing expedition included a view of a large wing in which they’d just finished welding together an enormous three-story globe, all girders and tubing, so large that it looked as if the building had to have been built around it. The exhibits will be fun once they get them installed, but the building itself, with a living roof and integrated aquarium exhibits coursing all through the structure, will totally kick ass. Scientifically speaking, I mean.
On Sunday I went to the park again for a run. I’d been indolent for weeks, not even barely stretching out, and didn’t feel much like getting into running duds, much less going out and working up a schvitz. But I did it anyway because.... I don’t know. I just did it, and I’m glad I did. As soon as I started running I felt better - a strange “ewphoria” (a nice feeling you get from something you’d expect you’d rather not be doing). The music was high-tempo and I kept up a fast pace as I zipped past myriad parkgoers enjoying the weather. I noticed a lot of soccer-playing guys and it put in my mind, that I’m a terrible soccer player. I tend to overkick - I can get to the ball, but once I’ve given it a good whack no one else can get to it. I kick too hard, and without aim or control. Maybe it’s because I never really played soccer, or maybe that’s why I never played soccer. In either case, I sort of envied those dudes just hackysacking the soccerball from knee to knee to instep to forehead to toe to toe to toe, dribbling the ball without letting it touch the ground. As I ran my route with increasing strength and speed I thought, hell, I could probably do that if I tried. I just need not to try too hard. I bet I could do it, though. In fact I’m sure of it. As this thought entered my mind, I saw, several feet ahead of me, a short stocky guy with a soccer ball, playing with himself, so to speak - the ball popped up from his feet to his shins to his shoulders to his forehead and then - damn, he was screwing up in front of his girlfriend - he mis-played a kick and the ball rolled fast away from him. Toward me. Hee. I altered my trajectory by a degree or two, added a little more speed, and stretched my stride so the ball and my left instep neatly intersected. It wasn’t a kick - just a collision of foot and ball. The impact knocked the ball back into the air, spinning slowly, and it came back down right in the center of the dude’s sternum, rolling neatly back down his leg where he went back into his kicking game. It’s been a long time since I kicked a soccer ball, or anything, that felt so satisfying. What a kick, huh?
On Saturday and Sunday we awoke to the sounds of chainsaws and woodchippers. The greenbelt across from our house has recently been reclassified from parkway (under CalTrans authority) to parkland (under city parks authority), and city crews were working all weekend long to clean the place up a little. Saplings were removed, ivy curtains came down, mowing was performed in places mowers have never gone before, and arborism was, generally, manifest. We’re happy about this - it’s about time someone opened up the cloistered dingles that have invited encampments, public self-sanitation, and other acts most suitably performed in private (if at all). Maybe it’ll cut down on the scummyfolk who so often trash the ‘hood. But I must admit, the city park workers on this job looked like they’d give any hardened homeless population a serious run for their money. Everyone looked tough as hell. Men with rock-hard wiry bodies and mean little beards, women with tough sneers and flinty eyes.... As they loaded a huge treestump festooned with ivy onto a pickup’s flatbed, I could easily see them doing the same with a big screen television that “just fell off the truck.” These guys were seriously hard-core. If I’d have been a tree I’d have just gotten the hell out of their way.
Finally, Saturday we took a short trip to Target for to shop for Halloween costumes for the muffinman. Things didn’t go so well as far as that goes, but one important discovery was in fact made: it’s berry season! BOO BERRY season! Yes, I guess they hold off till Hallotober to put the blue ‘shmallows back on the shelves. For less than $2 I got me a whole box of magnificent purple crunchies and those delightful cereal marshmallows. There’s even a maze and a “find-it” game on the back of the box, to keep me entertained as I indulge my juvenile sweet-tooth. Temptation, thy name is Mills, and thy rank is General....
Well that’s enough of my weekend to incite your amazement and jealousy, so let me move on to the climax of the epoch: The Amazing Race. It’s been a few days since it aired but I have not had time to see what anyone else had to say about the episode, so here are my notes (written as I watched, in the extended entry) and if you don’t care for the program, I invite you to entertain yourself otherwise. You know what I mean.
You male model in your lavender shirt: who are you trying to fool with that “tuffboi” look? If that’s how you look when you “bring it,” I see a bright future for you modeling children’s toys, in commercials where toddlers beat you up and take your big wheel. By which I mean, of course, the obvious. (And for future reference, I’m no good with names, so I can’t tell if it was Tyler or Durden who invited this rant. You’re both on notice, prettymen: don’t give me that semi-hardened gaze. It just makes you look like semi-hardened gays.)
“You may not beg or sell anything on this leg” - good. Way to keep Peter from cashing in on Sarah’s missing limb. “Come on Vietnam, I know you’ve got a whole generation crippled by landmines, but take a look at Tripod, my blonde monkey! Doesn’t she make you want to give me your money, instead of feeding your family with it?”
Rob seems a little tightly wound. I expect major meltdowns, and soon. CBS: DO NOT LET ME DOWN WITH THIS.
Dusty and Kandy are “looking for any little inch.” They didn’t feel guilty because they’re “on the ball and doing (their) stuff.” Hee. Sure, TerryTom say they might not win a “beauty pageant of niceness” (which is one of the gayest things ever said on television) - but they are strong contenders for the spelling bee of double-entendres. And let’s not forget, Phil is both a host and a verb!
Way to go, Dukemeister, hooking up with a local. However, your mistake is hooking up with a local who’s shrewder than you are. She’s actually out to take advantage of you. From the first moment she made you wait, you wrote yourself out of this game. Good luck taking advantage of the Viet people - history has made them very canny customers.
Okay Duku, you got the cabbie to take $11 for a $20 trip. I wonder what would have happened if there hadn’t been a film crew on site. How frustrating for you that you wouldn’t have been able to convince your daughter to “take one for the team to make up the difference” for you. One more way her self-awareness is a slap in your paternalistic face.
I love the reverential moments at the McCain flight suit display. “He crapped himself right here in these pants. That’s living history.” I can understand wanting to take a moment to give respect for the depredations committed at the Hanoi Hilton, but really - obesiance before a latex box containing a senator’s jumpsuit just looks silly to me. Hell, jumpsuits are pretty silly on their own.
Rob, if I saw you pedaling a bike, out of control, flowers falling off the back, bellowing “buy my goddamn flowers” at the top of your angry, bitter lungs, I’m sure I’d run right up to give you my money. You’re going for a real estate license, right? Is this how they tell you to sell property - stand in front and scream at passing cars, “HOUSE! BUY A HOUSE!”
Peter’s competence in flower-selling sickens me. I want him to fail, and fail spectacularly. At least he picks the wrong bus, but I fear he’ll still come out smelling like whatever he is selling. Since he’s such a BS artist maybe that is a smell for upcoming episodes?
Yes, Viet Nam is basically exactly like Frogger, that’s right. Similarly, Thailand is sort of like Asteroids and Laos is mostly like Tempest. It’s about time modern technology reached that part of the world and brought their video game analogies up to the 21st century. After all, Kosovo is significantly influenced by Halo and Doom - and you can just see how proud they are.
David is having trouble wrapping his mind around the idea that Viet Nam is no longer a nation at war with us. Please don’t tell him coal used to be trees or he’ll have a goddamn breakdown.
I LOVE THE COALMAKER. It’s like he’s a supervillan or something: Beware the CoalMaker! With his pith helmet and his lavander shirt, he will carbonize your SOUL!
Duke is standing at the edge of town, hands on his hips, looking out over an open field. He’s wasted time giving a ride to some random chick, lost all their money on a too-long cab ride, fallen behind, and now he’s led his daughter into deepest Lostylvania. What does he have to say for himself? “Huh.” Way to go, Dookie. That’s how to show your daughter that Dad knows best.
Erwin and Godwin, two of the least interesting people ever to play the game, or any game, win a state of the art home entertainment system for being first to the mat. It’s a good prize for them. Some teams don’t live together and this kind of “unitary” prize would be a challenge to share, but these guys probably both still live with their mom. The biggest problem will be when one wants to watch cartoons and the other wants to watch, um, other cartoons. Can’t you boys play nice?
TerryTom are trying to get some guy’s attention. One of them shouts out, “Guy! Guy guy guy guy guy!” Is this their pick up line? Or the sound of their gaydar going off? In either case, it proves that if something is unintelligible to the Vietnamese when you say it once, it’s best to repeat it five more times in the shrillest possible voice. It’s how we won the war, right?
Duke, when you tell Lauren “We’re gonna do this, these things are slipping right in” I can’t help but think you’re trying to plant a subliminal message. However, resistant though you may be to the idea, I think you could learn something from your daughter on this subject. By which I mean birdhouse-making. By which I mean slipping it right in.
Tom&Terry (wait, which one is the mouse and which is the cat?) get penalized for riding bareback with viet youth. I’m sure this sounded better to them in theory than it turned out in practice. When Phil tells them, “Guys, this has got to suck,” you can see how he got to the top of his profession. The only question: is sucking really such a problem for them?
Peter, that’s a real nice speech you’re giving about teamwork, as you trot on two good legs through the rice paddies while Sarah’s prosthesis sinks into the mud. She’s literally crawling in muck as you blithely leave her behind you. Teamwork means never having to help a teammate walk. Similarly, love means never having to say you’re sorry that you’re such a selfish asswipe.
Duke and Lauren are Philiminated, sunk by daddy’s repeated bad choices. Lauren seems really sad, maybe because she’s lost the opportunity to prove herself to a man who can’t seem to get his head on straight. Have you learned anything about Lauren, Duke? Duke replies that they’ve learned a lot about each other. It’s like he can’t conceive of getting closer to Lauren, she’s got to come over to him. I don’t know if upbringing has anything to do with orientation, but with a father so cold and distant I’m not surprised that Lauren is batting for the other team. In the end, we see that Duke is physically unable to discuss how he feels about his daughter. He can talk about how she feels about him, but when it comes to his own feelings he just clams up and hugs her. I suggest a cruise with Terry and Tom to get in touch with your feelings. In fact, I smell a whole new reality series there. Emo-Cruise: gays and straights team up for a voyage to - THEMSELVES!
Show over. Get on with your bad selves.
