Monthly Archives: August 2012

Movie review: The Dark Knight Rises

I can’t stop thinking about Batman. I saw Dark Knight Rises a couple of weeks ago and since then I’ve been all about Batman. I want to be Batman so badly. Batman came out on a Friday, technically on a Thursday night, but I gave up on midnight movies years ago. It’s one of the most cutthroat experiences in the entire human experience to try and see a midnight showing of a really, immensely popular long-awaited blockbuster. I’d go through the details, all of the grueling misery, but it would consume this entire blog post, just like it’s already consumed the better part of this opening paragraph. Besides, I already wrote about it.

But Batman. Holy shit. It came out on a Friday, but I work nights and weekends. So my only available time to see it was that next Wednesday. But my wife wanted to see it also. She works Monday through Friday, like a regular human being. We have completely incompatible movie schedules. How long could I have waited? We went through this song and dance when Prometheus came out. I really wanted to see it. So did my wife. Allegedly. We never actually wound up seeing Prometheus. I guess either I didn’t really care about seeing it or my wife didn’t really care about seeing it. But I know that I really cared about seeing it, but whatever, water under the bridge right? It’s not like I’m going to divorce my wife over a loosely based Alien prequel.

But I’d have totally divorced her over Batman. Like I already had some divorce papers drafted before the movie came out just in case we wound up getting in a big fight over it and I for some reason either missed out on seeing it or, more likely, we saw it together, but it was way after opening weekend, and by then I would have already had a pretty good idea of what to expect. And that’s a legit possibility. That’s what happened with Prometheus. I heard all about that self-surgery scene and I still haven’t even seen it yet. But right, right, bygones are bygones, I forgot. Everyone’s pretty respectful for about two weeks, tops, regarding not talking about a popular movie. But after that it’s like, “Come on man, you didn’t see Batman yet? Well too bad, it’s been out for so long. You leave the room, because we’re all talking about Batman. Loser. “

I’m not a loser. So I had off on that Wednesday and I planned on going to see it in the morning, by myself, I’d just slip in, see the movie, be done with it, and then get right back into my day as if I were never gone in the first place. I wouldn’t tell my wife at all. If she wanted to see Batman, I’d just go and see it with her again and act like it was my first time also. And if we wound up never seeing it, then it would have totally proven my point: that she really didn’t care that much about Batman in the first place, and her Batman apathy was a huge risk factor in me not seeing Batman.

I wanted to see it in IMAX, because, well, I don’t know why, really. The New York Times said I should. I’ve never seen anything in IMAX. But whatever, this is Batman! So I coughed up the extra cash and rode my bike into midtown to see this movie. And it was awesome. Fantastic. It was so f’n cool. I was actually kind of worried about the logistics. I usually get up and drink like three cups of coffee right away, but I knew that if I did that, I’d have to pee really badly like right in the middle of this three hour film. So I skipped coffee. Which meant I skipped breakfast. I was starving. And hot. I got there and I was so hot because it’s like the hottest summer I’ve ever been alive for, and I rode my bike, which made it seem even hotter, because I was hotter, I had heated up my body, and initially the movie theater AC felt so good, like such a relief. But by the end of the movie I was freezing.

And I actually had to yell at this guy in front of me for using his cell phone. He kept taking it out and playing with it and putting it back and taking it out again. I tried to ignore it, but it was right there in my peripheral vision, this little square glow, and I didn’t want to be a dick, but instead of asking him nicely at the beginning, I suppressed it, held it in, let it grow and fester and mutate and finally I was like, in a voice a little too high above a whisper, “Will you turn your cell phone off, please!” And he did. I should have added, “Come on man, this is Batman!” just to show I wasn’t trying to be a dick, one of those random guys that enforces movie house rules on other patrons for no reason other than to boss somebody else around. But then I looked at the guy after he put his phone away, and he was some dad, totally not interested in the movie which, I personally don’t get, because, like I said, it’s Batman, and it was the sickest movie of all time, so how could you not be interested?

Even if you never saw the first two movies. So what? This is Batman! But still, a small part of me felt bad as he got up and moved to a seat way over by the side, so he could play with his phone, leaving his kids all alone, all by himself, just him and his phone and his wide angle seat, where he couldn’t even see the movie. Well he could see it, but at a really severe angle and, even though it’s IMAX, part of me didn’t get the whole IMAX thing because, well, it just seemed like a really big screen. So does a regular movie screen. All movie screens are bigger than my TV, so. This was really nineteen bucks? But it’s Batman! No, it was totally worth it. I would have paid twenty, easily twenty-five, thirty bucks. And besides, normally I’d have to see the movie with my wife, so I’d probably be spending the same amount on two tickets that I did on this one ticket, so it’s not like I’m really reaching deep in my pockets. If anything, I saved some money, because regular movie tickets are like thirteen bucks, so I saved seven? Does that make sense?

When I got out of the theater I realized that a three hour movie really eats up a huge chunk of your day. Especially when it’s in midtown. I had like a half hour bike ride back to my place. And I was so pumped by the time I got out of the theater, you know, sitting still for three hours, I had all of this Batman adrenaline coursing through my veins, and so I was riding down the first avenue bike path trying to get home like way too fast, like really, really fast, and right as I was riding past the UN, I must have not been paying attention for a second, ten seconds tops, probably thinking about the movie, about how unbelievably awesome it was, and while Batman was replaying in my head, I totally collided with this truck in front of me that was making a left turn and I went flying off the bike and over the truck and, I have no idea how, but I made a totally soft landing, really graceful almost, not graceful like landing on your feet graceful, I mean, I was on the ground, but I just got up, fine, just unscratched. It had to have been that Batman energy, it somehow fortified my body, bracing it for the collision.

But I got up and I’m just so embarrassed. Like everyone saw it. It was loud. And it was in front of the UN, so there were automatically like twelve cops rushing up to me, asking me if I was OK. Like I said, super embarrassing. I grabbed my bike to see if I couldn’t just get on it and ride away, but the front wheel got dislodged and the bike frame got completely bent, so bent that I couldn’t even force the wheel in the fork, but I still tried, and while I was trying to fix it, which, with no tools or anything was never going to happen, it was just making my hands all greasy and gross, all of these cops are surrounding me, like not just regular cops, but captains, with the white shirts. And they’re asking me if I want an ambulance to come over and check me out and I’m just head down, no thank you. “You sure you’re OK?” “Yeah, I’m fine.” “Well, we’re going to let the guy go then.” And I didn’t even notice that this truck was there, being detained by the cops. I don’t even know whose fault it was. OK, it was definitely my fault.

And while all of this was going on I still couldn’t stop thinking about Batman. It was the best movie I’d ever seen in my life. I had to focus on the situation at hand. But I couldn’t, because I just kept looking around at where I was, and it looked just like Gotham City from the Batman movie, and all of these cops looked like GCPD. Reality started to blur and I figured if I demanded to see Commissioner Gordon, the cops might force me into an ambulance even if I denied treatment. So I just picked up my bike and ran. But then slowly my run turned into a walk. Even with my extra Batman energy, the bike was heavy. And the subway was like twenty blocks and three avenues away, and so I had to take a couple of breaks. And I just kept sweating, so much sweat, and bike chain grease.

When I finally got home, I was supposed to meet my wife in like ten minutes for drinks with her coworkers who I’d never met before. And now what should I do? How could I explain my bike? My whole plan was to sneak Batman into my day and then never talk about it to anybody, because I wouldn’t have had to, because it was in the morning. But now it was afternoon and I’d have to tell my wife about my bike, clearly in some sort of accident, and she’d ask what I was doing in midtown. And what was I supposed to say? I didn’t have enough time to make up an even more convincing story. So I took a shower and caught a cab to where she’s already at with her coworkers. And right after I shook everyone’s hand and said hello and introduced myself, I sat down, and I say to the whole group, all nonchalantly, “So, did everyone see Batman yet? I just saw it this morning! It was awesome!” And it totally worked. My wife couldn’t get mad at me in front of everyone. What kind of a first impression would that have been? I got off scott free.

I can only surmise that my genius problem solving skills were a direct result of having just seen Batman, because he’s a detective, and I learned a lot about what Batman would do in various situations, because the movie was three hours long, and he had a lot of different problems to solve in those three hours.

Batman was three of the most awesome hours of my entire life. Seriously. It’s still consuming a large amount of my higher brain functions. I went on facebook right after I saw it and some guy that I haven’t talked to in like five years wrote as a status update, “So, anybody else disappointed by Batman?” And I wrote back, “NO!” Maybe I’ll feel weird about it if I ever run into him in the future, but he’s probably defriended me already, and if he hasn’t, I’m going to defriend him. Because Batman kicked ass! And how could he not like it?

Anyone remember that episode of the Twilight Zone where the earth was getting closer to the sun, and everyone was so hot, but then it turned out that the earth was actually getting farther away, and so people got really cold?

It was so hot this summer. I was constantly sweating. Everyone else was sweating too, but I felt like somehow I was getting the brunt of the heat. Why? I don’t know. Maybe because I’m taller than everybody else, closer to the sun. Or it could be that I often feel like the world revolves around me, and so my problems are just naturally a little heavier than everyone else’s. But it’s also because I didn’t see anybody sweating nearly as much as I was.

I would get out of the shower and dry off and immediately start sweating again. I’d go meet somebody or go to work and by the time I’d get to wherever I was supposed to be, my shirt would start soaking through with perspiration. Super embarrassing. And it was really uncomfortable. I’d bring a change of clothes to work, because I know I’d have sweated through whatever I wore just getting there. But then I’d start to sweat through my work clothes not even five minutes later. I tried hanging out in the walk in refrigerator. I tried standing in front of the AC, to completely cool down, but I was still just damp, always a little damp, and the dampness wasn’t like a refreshing dampness, like the dew on blades of grass in the morning, it was a damp like I made a tuna sandwich for lunch, but I made it early in the morning, and by noon the sandwich is all damp.

And it’s beside the point, because there is no AC at the restaurant where I work. There’s an AC unit, but I think it’s purely decorative. People would complain to me that’s it was hot. “Can’t you turn on the AC?” they’d ask me. And I’d just be standing over them, literally dripping over them, sweating through my shirt, through this layer of cotton, and it would get profuse, leaking through my shirt, dripping onto them, but still they’d complain about the heat. And I was just so pissed. These people wouldn’t leave me a dime, I could tell, so I didn’t even pretend to act like I was at all interested in how good or bad of a time they’d be having. I’d just stand in front of them, looking at the seconds tick by on my waterproof watch, which I had to buy, because my other watch got destroyed because it wasn’t waterproof. It must have just given up, being tied around my wrist, probably exactly the same as being underwater.

“But can’t you just open the windows?” And I’d be getting angrier by the second because, yes, we should’ve totally open the windows, but my nut job boss is completely blind to reality. She insisted that the AC was working, it was working fine, so she refused to allow the windows to be opened even a crack. She had this nutso logic that open windows would force the AC to work even harder, like it would try not just to cool the room but the entire outside world, which would naturally be much less efficient, which would in turn make the room even hotter, which was, I’m almost positive, physically not possible. We reached the opposite of absolute zero folks, right here in this restaurant. And finally I stopped sweating all together, it became this rare scientific phenomenon where, because it was so hot, the sweat came out of me pre-evaporated, like just a gas, like I was just steaming, and the whole time at work it was this cloud of sweat vapor in this closed room, all of us stuck in this room, nobody enjoying anything, me not enjoying my job, the customers not enjoying their dining experience, the only person enjoying anything would be my boss, she was enjoying the line out the door of mindless sucker tourists, desperate for a piece of this tourist trap restaurant, with its line down the block, down three blocks, everyone sweating, touching everything.

You know what? This is definitely the most disgusting thing I’ve ever written about. I can’t wait until it’s winter so that I can start complaining about how cold I am. Oh man, that’s going to be so great, such a relief. Well, it seems great to me right now, but I’m sure I’m not going to feel the same way when there’s snot constantly running down my face, and I’m drinking cup after cup of hot tea, which won’t do anything to warm me up, but it’ll maybe waste another minute and a half, a minute and a half where I won’t have to concentrate on how cold I am, so I can just be a minute and a half closer to warmer weather, to summer, I can’t wait until it’s hot out again. Wait, now I’m confused. You know, I’m a pretty whiney guy. I’m really hungry too. I think I just need a snack. Maybe a bowl of soup. A nice piping hot bowl of red hot soup. Extra hot. I’ll throw it back in the microwave for another minute or two. I’ll heat up the spoon in the oven, just like you would put a beer mug in the freezer, to get all frosty. Nothing like a first hot bite of soup on an even hotter spoon. If I’m eating something hot, I want it to be hot, like hot, hot. Like super, hot. Like hotter than this summer, just so hot out.

Big words and Boy Meets World

I love using big words. Huge words. Frenetic. That’s a big word. It’s not big like long. I’m not talking about long words. Just big words. I don’t even know what frenetic means. But I don’t really care, because I’m just going to assume that nobody else knows what it means either. So I always feel free to drop it, and other big words into conversation. I just talk really fast, so that way nobody has a chance to even question the word. It’s like, by the time the word registers in everyone else’s brain, it will have been like five sentences ago. So nobody’s going to ask me, “Whoa, whoa, whoa. What was that word you used a while ago? Like five sentences ago?” And I’ll act all offended for having been interrupted. And I’ll pick a different word, a word that’s not too big, something that I definitely know the definition of, and I’ll say it must have been that. If this person protests, I’ll just say that it’s not my fault that you don’t know basic vocabulary. Zing! And nobody will have even remembered what the word was in the first place. I don’t even remember what it was. I should be able to look it up, but I’m not typing, I’m just talking into my iPhone with the Voice Memo app running. And I’m going to download another app and have it turned directly into text. And then another app that automatically posts it to my blog. When people ask me, “Hey Rob, working hard or hardly working?” I always say, “Both.” And then I say something about working smarter, not harder. Gets them every time.

But every once in a while I’ll run into some wise guy nerd that must spend all of his or her time with their nose stuck inside of a dictionary, and they’ll stop me midsentence and shake their smug little head, saying something like, “Nope, nope, nope. Incorrect usage of that big word. Sorry.” And that’s when I take things personally. I say, “Oh yeah?” as a way to buy me some time, to actually try to remember what word I used and in what context I was trying to use it. I probably did just make it up, but I have to think, fast, of an alternate definition, something that fits with what I just said. So after we go back and forth a couple of times, I’ll present my new definition, loudly, and claim that this other person doesn’t know anything. And I’m always the loudest. It usually works.

It didn’t work on the SATs. But who cares, right? What a dumb test. I remember this one episode of Boy Meets World where Cory and the gang were all studying for the SATs. Those two goons, Harley and the fat guy, they must have been in high school for like eight years, and I remember Harley making fun of the group for being a bunch of nerds. And then when the group walked away, probably to study a little more, or to see if they couldn’t get Principle Feeney to give them some advice, Harvey turns to his fat sidekick and says, “You know, one of these years I’m going to see if I can’t take this SOT.” A classic joke from a classic show.

I think I’ve just found a whole new direction where I can take this blog. Instead of coming up with lame stories that don’t make any sense, I’m just going to think back, try to remember all of my favorite jokes from all of my favorite old TV shows, and then I’ll just write about the jokes. This is going to be hilarious. I think it’s mostly going to be about Boy Meets World for a while. When we were little, it was one of the few shows that wasn’t on my parents’ TV blacklist. One time we were all watching Blossom and I think the show had something to do with the word sex. No way. Not in this house! So Blossom got banned, as well as the shows the came on directly before and immediately after. So this meant no Fresh Prince and also no some other show that I can’t remember. They were on too close to Blossom. Better safe than sorry.

One time Shaun and Cory started a band, but they didn’t know how to play any instruments. So they carried around guitar cases, but they didn’t have any guitars inside, just lunches. Shaun shook his guitar case and egg salad started falling out. Anyway, they get drafted into a high school battle of the bands, and it’s a problem because, like I said, they didn’t know how to play any songs or anything. So when they finally get on stage, they’re just holding their instruments, and Cory says to someone in the audience, “Hey, what’s your name?” And I think it was like Steve or something. So Cory starts singing, “Steve, Steve, bo beve, banana fana fo feev,” just like that. And they get booed off stage. But that’s not even the funniest part. The whole episode the group kept alluding to this legendary high school band from a battle of the bands from like twenty years ago. And at the end of the episode, they finally find a tape in the AV room with a recording of the performance. So they put in the tape, and it’s this guy saying, “Hey, what’s your name?” And Mr. Feeney says, “George Feeney,” in his no-nonsense Principle Feeney voice. And the guy starts singing, “Feeney Feeney bo beanie, banana fana.” It was hilarious! I laughed for like ten minutes straight, but not too loud, because I didn’t want to arouse any suspicion from my parents. Who knows what we could have been laughing at? Something inappropriate probably. You know what? Blacklist. I don’t like that Tapanga anyway, with her hippie parents and her always trying to kiss Cory. Just turn on PBS. Wishbone is on. Or Magic School Bus.

Abstract Math

What do you do when you only have an hour and a half left before you have to go to work and you’ve been trying to sit down and write something for the past few hours but your brain’s not working or something’s not clicking because everything you’ve tried to put down so far hasn’t really turned into anything worthwhile? I tried writing something about abstract mathematics. I thought that would be funny. I didn’t really have a whole idea worked out, I just wanted to get to a point where I could write something about being an abstract mathematician and somebody comes up and asks me for help with some regular math, or even some pretty complicated math, and I would just stare at them for a while before getting all offended, explaining that I only deal with math on an abstract level, on a theoretical level, that they could never understand, that I don’t even use numbers, it’s just letters, and actually, it’s not even letters, it’s all Greek symbols, and my calculator alone costs more than their house. And then I would write out this huge description of me, standing in front of a chalkboard, piece of chalk in hand, tweed jacket on and everything, but there wouldn’t be anything on the board, nothing, and I wouldn’t even be moving, I would just be thinking, transfixed in thought, and then you would see into my head, like if it were a movie, the camera would zoom into my head, into my brain, and you would just see strings of equations moving so fast, and you’d get it, you’d get how hard I’m thinking, how abstract, how smart. But that’s it. That’s all I’ve got. It’s not a story. It’s not even really a joke. It’s nothing. A whole lot of nothing.

All of this talk about numbers has me thinking about the lottery for some reason, specifically, how whenever you buy a lottery ticket it tells you the odds of winning the jackpot. Or maybe it doesn’t say it right on the ticket, but it definitely says it on the lottery web site when you go to check out the numbers to see if you won anything, but you never win anything. But if you have enough money to beat the odds, to buy every single combination of numbers, then you’re a guaranteed winner. So why don’t all of the rich people of the world get together and just buy up every ticket? It seems like such a genius plan.

Wait a second. I just realized that if they bought all the tickets, there’s a risk that someone else might also buy the exact same winning numbers, and then they’d have to share the jackpot. And what’s the point of being rich if you have to share? And since they spent all of that money buying up every combination of numbers, they’d actually wind up losing more money than they put in. Plus, by buying every combo, the jackpot would get higher and higher, driving up the lotto’s popularity, making it so that everyone on the street would feel the inclination to buy a lotto ticket. And maybe two lotto tickets, or ten. Or maybe you could walk around the office telling people to pitch in a buck or two to make a smaller lotto pool, smaller than the really rich people’s, but still, bigger than going it alone. And this would, in effect, raise the odds that the rich people would definitely have to split their jackpot.

Actually, wasn’t that just abstract mathematics? That whole discussion about the lotto? Maybe I am an abstract mathematician. So maybe the rich people should change the rules, so that way each number combination can only be bought once, that way they wouldn’t have to worry about splitting it with anybody. Wait a second, but then they’d just be winning their own money and nobody else’s. Right? I’m confused. Abstract math is tough. It’s not an easy subject. And I don’t even have any formal training or education, so it’s even tougher for me than it would be for a real abstract mathematician. It’s like when I change a flat tire, it takes me five hundred times longer than it would somebody who works in a garage.

One time I spent like an hour changing a tire. It took forever. Well, it took an hour. Or like an hour. But it felt like forever. And I jacked it up all wrong. I knew it wasn’t jacking up like it should, but I have this stubborn streak in of me, especially when I want a really boring or menial task to be going a lot faster than it currently is. I’ll just plow through it, even if I know I’m not doing it right, even if I know that I made a mistake and should have backtrack. Kind of like where I’m at right now in this blog post. It was so stupid though, I didn’t loosen up the bolts before I jacked it up, and I knew that I was supposed to, I just forgot, I just hadn’t done a tire changing in like six years. So I had to screw everything back in, unjack the car, rejack the car. It was a nightmare. Abstract mathematics isn’t even that tough. Well not as tough, but just as boring. Really, really boring.

I’m just kidding

Sorry I made fun of your haircut. I was just messing around. I was just trying to make a joke. Yeah, sorry, the joke was on you. But come on, lighten up. Hair grows back. No, I mean you’re haircut’s fine. But I hope you didn’t leave a tip. I’m joking. Totally kidding. You look great. You look better than ever. Don’t get like that, seriously, I couldn’t even tell that you got a haircut, I was just trying to say something funny. No, no, I noticed that you got a haircut. You ever say something stupid? I was just trying to, I don’t know, trying to be a really funny guy. Just use a little product, or wear a hat. I’m kidding!

Thanks for letting me borrow your car. Sorry about the radio. Yeah I wound up driving it way out of town, like way out, like the radio stations all changed. So I had to change all of the presets. And I couldn’t remember what stations you had them on originally. And I also couldn’t remember how to change them back. Yeah, I figured out how to change them the first time, but I just couldn’t do it again, I lost it. And I messed up the clock. And I got in a little accident. I’m just kidding! I didn’t get into an accident. What scratch? That scratch? I have no idea. I think that was there when you lent it to me. No, I’m pretty sure it was there. Well I have no clue. I didn’t scratch it.

No, you’re right, I totally scratched it. But I got one of those scratch-B-gone pens on the Internet, so you can just fix it right up. Where is it? I don’t know, in the mail probably. I just ordered it. Like just now, on my phone, like just now when you noticed the scratch. I’m just joking, I didn’t really scratch the car. Seriously, I don’t even see any scratch, really. I really don’t even get what you’re talking about.

Sorry I told you about Batman. I know, I get it, I ruined it. Sorry. But it’s still totally worth seeing. You’re still definitely going to enjoy it. Just go watch the movie, if you’re not entertained, well … well, you’re totally going to be entertained. And besides, I’m just messing around. All of that stuff I told you about the story, I just made it up. I’m just trying to throw you off, to make it even more surprising. No, yeah, no that’s not true, I should just stop trying to make this better, it’s not better. Just go see the movie. It’s fantastic.

Sorry I ate your pasta salad. It looked so good. Next time I’m at the deli I’ll pick up some more. I’m just kidding, I didn’t really eat it. I remembered you talking about eating it for lunch so I hid it. I was totally going to give it back but I forgot all about it and I think it spoiled, so I just threw it out. Come on, chill out, it’s just pasta salad. You shouldn’t be eating so much pasta salad anyway. All of those empty carbs.

I’m messing around, you look great. I was making a wisecrack. You look fine. I know, I forgot about the thyroid problem. I wasn’t trying to be serious, geez, I wasn’t like making a comment about your weight. Well, just like a carb joke, like I just wanted to say the word carb. Come on, you’re skinny! I mean, you’re not fat. You’re not like fat, fat. You phat with a PH! Like cool, phat! Come on. Lighten up, please. Just order whole wheat pasta salad from now on. Trust me, it tastes exactly the same, and something about complex carbs, and something else about something else. You look great. I was just messing around.

Ooh, Tuesday night? I’m busy Tuesday night, sorry. I’m working. Just get a cab, or take the airport shuttle. I know, but I switched and now I’m working Tuesday night. Look, I know I owe you, but what do you want me to do? I’m just messing around, I got fired. No, I didn’t get fired, I’m just kidding. Yeah, you’re right, it’s not very funny. I’m just making jokes like nervously, I don’t know. But I am working Tuesday night. OK I’m not, but I still can’t drive you to the airport. I got a bunch of speeding tickets when I borrowed your car, I think I gotta lay low for a minute, you know no driving. I’m just kidding, they were parking tickets. Still, a ticket’s a ticket. Well if you get anything in the mail just send it over and I’ll take care of it. I don’t know, isn’t it in the glove compartment? I don’t know. I have no idea. Just go on the web site and enter in your license plate. I don’t remember which town. I don’t know. Just wait for it to come in the mail, they’ll send you a notice. Just go to the court date and explain that you weren’t driving the car. They’ll always offer you a plea bargain. Half the time these traffic cops don’t even show up and the cases just get thrown out. Just chill out man, take a deep breath, you don’t see me getting so bent out of shape.