February, It's all about the customer

Time for your monthly shot of enthusiasm, brought to you by my Despair Inc wall calendar.

Holy Crap!

Thanks to the Tycho from Penny Arcade for dropping this gem. If that kind of tech doesn't appeal to you, then you're probably more interested in the latest product from Blammo:

Back to the Drawing Boooaaa...zzzzzzzzzzzz

We thought we had finally done it. For three nights in a row last week, Stacy and I slept through the night for the first time since Zoe was born. Zoe is turning four this week. It was amazing.

Zoe didn't begin sleeping through the night until Scarlett was born. Scarlett had not slept through the night without either getting us out of bed to put her back to sleep or getting in our bed and poking at us while we tried to sleep.

One late night while sitting in the girls' room trying to coax her back to sleep, I noticed how noisy it was. Most of the noise came from the top bunk where Vicki sleeps. The rustling of covers and the mattress pad combined with her teeth grinding would be enough to keep anyone awake.

The next night we moved Scarlett's toddler bed into the toy room next door. That night, she slept all the way through. She'd done that before, but usually only when medicated or overly tired. We weren't ready to get down on our knees and praise the gods of slumber yet. Then she did it again. Then again. The following morning was Saturday and all three of our girls were in bed until after Stacy and I got up. I honestly can't remember that ever happening before.

But what the gods of slumber grant, the gods of slumber taketh away. Three nights ago Scarlett got up again. She seemed to be having nightmares. The next morning, Stacy got out of her that something on the wall was scaring her. She sleeps under my Pez collection. I suppose it can be scary to think of all those plastic smiling faces looming over you when you're two. That night as she was laying down, Stacy and I took all the Pez down while she pointed up at a spot near her bed saying something to the affect of "[S]He scared me." (She talks great, we just don't always understand her.) We assured her that the Pez wouldn't scare her again and headed off to bed.

No luck. She was up three or four times before we relented and let her sleep with us. Last night was the same. She pointed at the same spot of empty shelves and told us the same thing. She let us turn out the light and leave the room, but I could tell she was ill at ease. Sure enough, last night was as bad as the other two.

We're back to where we started, only more disappointed after that oh-so-brief window of real sleep last week. My next thought is to take down the shelves, but I don't know if the source of Scarlett's fears is something we can actually see on the wall.

Anyone else have a similar experience that would like to share some possible solutions?

Updated: Awesome+Awesome=Face Punch

I don't think awesome+awesome equals awesome doubled. I think awesome+awesome creates some kind of weird exponential loop until awesome ceases to be a mere concept and becomes a palpable thing. Then that palpable thing punches you directly in the face. Prepare to be punched by awesome.

Stacy sent me this, which brings together two pieces of awesome, bacon and Jim Gaffigan. Gaffigan is the guy you probably recognize from the Sierra Mist commercials. To me, he's one of the funniest comedians out there. You know bacon from such features as breakfast, BLTs, bacon-wrapped steak, and other popular engagements.

Anyone else hungry for some bacon now? Just me? Ok.

UPDATE! Gaffigan has released an official clip of his bacon bit from his Comedy Central special. This one shouldn't get taken down any time soon.

Fairly Awesome Late Christmas Present

My coworker Jennifer gave the whole team calendars from Despair Inc. I have to say, it ranks up there among the more awesome gifts I've received. I'll try to remember to give you all your monthly shot of reality when the calendar page flips over.

Bonus:
From the Demotivator page at Despair Inc.
MOTIVATION. Psychology tells us that motivation- true, lasting motivation- can only come from within. Common sense tells us it can't be manufactured or productized. So how is it that a multi-billion dollar industry thrives through the sale of motivational commodities and services? Because, in our world of instant gratification, people desperately want to believe that there are simple solutions to complex problems. And when desperation has disposable income, market opportunities abound.

AT DESPAIR, INC., we believe motivational products create unrealistic expectations, raising hopes only to dash them. That's why we created our soul-crushingly depressing Demotivators® designs, so you can skip the delusions that motivational products induce and head straight for the disappointments that follow!

E.L. Kersten, Ph.D.
Founder and COO

McDonalds, You've Done It Again!

Why is it that whenever I eat at McDonald's, no matter how good the food is (and it never is,) I always feel guilty and ashamed afterwards? It's like I've let someone down, someone who was counting on me not eating the pseudo-meat and preservative-rich slop-on-a-bun. Every time I eat there, I prove myself unworthy of that trust.

What's worse is the smell in the car afterward, like a miasma of shame lingering long after the foul deed is done. I've often come back to the car the next day with the odor hanging on, pointing a green smoky finger at me in accusation. It knows what I've done, oh yes, it knows. I'll not go into the aftertaste and the rank belches that inevitably follow such an indulgence. Can it even be called an indulgence?

And so, in my finest faux-Shakespearean accent:
E-vill, thou hast a name, and it is McDonald's. Get thee behind me, empty temptation! Return to the Stygian depths of the rainbow trousers that spawned thee! Take thine vile flavor and pallid complexion back to damnable arches from whence thou came and return no more to vex me! ::BUUURRRP!:: Ugh, that's nasty.

Table for Self Pity? Party of One?

Wow.

Last night sucked.

My two youngest have contracted the usual creeping crud that is so common this time of year. Poor Zoe has coughed so much she's hoarse (then again, she's young, so wouldn't that be poany?)

See that? That miserable attempt at humor? That is the result of three hours of interrupted sleep. You see, the family that shares together suffers together. Being the loving father that I am, I couldn't in good conscience let my children go through an illness without going through it myself. Last night I lay awake in bed, exhausted, but unable to sleep from the sinus pressure directly on my brain and the constant flow of post-nasal muck. You know how it is, no matter what you do, you can't get comfortable enough to sleep.

Sometime in the next two hours, I did manage to drift off. Naturally, that's when my beloved two-year-old decided she had enough sleep and it was time to torture mommy and daddy. Awoken from a very shallow sleep, it was another hour or so before I could manage to nod off again. Stacy got it even worse. Scarlett finally fell back asleep right on Stacy's shoulder. After suffering as long as she could, Stacy moved Scarlett off, which woke the little angel up, of course. It's all elbows in the face and pokes in the eyes after that, it doesn't matter how many cartoons you stick her in front of.

So, come the alarm in the morning, I hobbled out of bed like an old man, a cranky old man. I owe Stacy my apologies, I wasn't exactly a sympathetic ear to her perfectly valid complaints this morning. She's still got to take care of four sick kids and keep a household running. I just have to stay awake during a full day of meetings and find a sitting position that doesn't send excruciating pain shooting up and down my back.

Pain pills and caffeine are my friends today. Okay, I'm done whining. Anyone want a precocious two-year-old? No reasonable offer refused!

Happy New Year!

We had a great holiday spent with our family of friends. We're ready for a new year (especially the yearly bonus and tax refunds!) I hope all of you have a great new year. Enjoy 2008! (2008, really? What's next - 2009?)

Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanzaa, Happy Holidays, or Bah Humbug, if you prefer!

To all of my family, friends, and random visitors, happy winter solstice celebration from me to you! I hope you have an excellent day filled with holiday cheer. I also hope that you will take some time during this season to reflect on some of the things that make the human race great, such as our capacity for hope, generosity, mercy, and love. Spread a little cheer this year, regardless of the difference between your reason for celebrating and the next person's.

Virgin Mary

I mentioned in my last post that the girls' performances were over. Both of them had parts in holiday shows, just of vastly different scale.

Zoe, my three-year-old, goes to a small, home-run (but still licensed!) preschool with only three or four other kids. It's been great for our most anti-social child of the bunch. Apparently, when we're not there, she's the most outgoing and happy girl around. She sings, she talks, she plays with the other kids. This is all stuff she does with her sisters at home and some of the neighborhood kids, but would not even think about doing if she saw someone new around.

We like to call her our turtle. When she's in a bad mood or near someone she doesn't feel that she knows well enough, she'll crawl into her metaphorical shell and stay there until the situation has changed. This can take the form of her putting on the Pout of All Pouts and lowering her head to dropping on the ground and curling up like she really has a turtle shell to hide under. It's very cute, but sometimes a bit much.

Her preschool put on a small (read: tiny) production of the Nativity. They gave Zoe the perfect part, Virgin Mary. Mary just sits there gazing lovingly at the baby Jesus. No big deal, right?

She was excited when we got there. She went right down to get into costume (a scarf over her head and shoulders) while the rest of us, Stacy's visiting family, and the other kids' parents and grandparents, took our seats in front of the little show area. Zoe's teacher brought her out and had her kneel in front of the basket that would serve as the manger.

As soon as she entered the room, we knew the turtle was with us.

She sat there, eyes downcast, lips pursed, mouth frowning, eyebrows knitted, everything as if cast in stone. It was the cutest thing (is it bad that I consider my daughter's extreme shyness adorable?) The best part was when the angel, one of her fellow students, tried to place the baby Jesus into Mary's arms. She didn't move a muscle. The angel gave up after a few seconds and just put the baby Jesus into Mary's lap, where he stayed, untouched, for the rest of the program.

Thankfully, the program was short. Afterwards, we all sang a couple of Christmas carols and then adjourned for some refreshments. Zoe was perfectly fine after the Nativity scene was over. She was laughing and playing with the other kids like nothing had happened. Just don't put her in front of an audience.

Her Highness is not amused.

Equally Funny Sibling Idiosyncrasy Dept.
Casey nabbed a shot of Scarlett at her most evil right after we put a sticker on her nose for a rousing rendition of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. I'll see if I can get a photo up within the next couple of days of both of them.

Stink Eye Update:

Here is the shot Casey took of Scarlett while at the Nativity celebration:

Tell me that's not the greatest Pissed Off Toddler Face you've ever seen.

Houseguests No More, Wii-Related Injuries, and Mr. Monocle's Malicious Money Mongering Machine

Birthdays are over, kids have finished their performances, extended families have left for home, life is good.

It was a hectic week for Stacy and I. Having her family in town was fun, but stressful. Sleeping on the constantly-deflating air mattress in the cold basement wasn't pleasant, but I can handle something like that for three nights. We got in a few good games of Wii Sports Tennis, enough to show me how out of shape I am. Did you know there is a medical condition that has been nick-named Wii Elbow? Yeah, apparently it strikes those that play a lot of high impact Wii games and adolescent boys. Not sure where the correlation is between those two groups.

We celebrated Scarlett's second birthday with some friends at Chuck E Cheese the week before last. She had so much of a blast that we thought we'd take her back along with her uncle, Ryan, and his son, Mason, since both of their birthdays are pretty close to the same time. We have a house of mouse near us, but since we don't enjoy skee ball games with one ball or driving games that run in circles, we opted to go to the one about 45 minutes north.

It's a good thing we don't live near a casino, because the light chase machines at those places taunt me until I dominate them with my superior light-stopping skillz, coaxing out the sweet stream of tickets like a soothing cascade of spring water to a desert nomad. I can usually master the infernal machines with a relatively low investment of tokens, but this particular location has one branded with a certain top-hat-wearing, monocled, mustached debonair that brings a little extra Atlantic City charm with him. Instead of a single token with a single progressive jackpot of tickets, he has three levels of payout with which to taunt me.

"Just one quarter?" he seems to say, "You know that will only get you 50 tickets if you win and three measly ones if you get close. C'mon, it's not worth it unless you drop in three. Just think, 200 tickets, imagine what you can buy with that!"

(For the record, that'll get you one bag of cotton candy and a couple of party favors, seriously.)

Mr. Monocle is devious. I won the jackpot on our first visit with a relatively small investment. He knows how to draw me in. I cashed in an undisclosed amount of money (I ain't tellin'!) and approached my nemesis, confident in my superiority, safe in the knowledge that I had mastered it before and it would do my bidding. Why, with as many tokens as I had, I could afford to hit the three-token bonus and then the two-token jackpot!

Oh, it's an evil little thing, that machine. It sucked the tokens out of my little cup like a kid gulping down water during a midnight potty break. The most insidious part of its little token-stealing plot is the payout for missing the jackpot by one light: 12 tickets. That piles up pretty quick. I look down at my feet and see the big stack of tickets and figure that even though I haven't hit the jackpot yet, I'm doing pretty good.

Then I look down and see the bottom of my cup through the few remaining tokens. I look up at the machine with dawning realization. Do you know what that fella with the monocle was doing?

He was smiling.

Oho! You're an evil, squat, ticket taunting devil, light chasing machine! I ripped out my tickets from its stingy innards and walked away with what little dignity I had left. I parceled out the remaining tokens to my kids and nephews and sent my tickets through the counter.

With the stack I had accumulated that night and the ones we had left over from the week before, I had enough to get five jeweled bracelets for all of the girls there, two sticky spiders for the two older boys, and a weird floppy-spiked little pair of eyes for the helluvit.

Who's smiling now, Mr. Monocle?

Caveman, Me

Stacy's family is in town to celebrate a couple of birthdays and to see Vicki perform in the Nutcracker this weekend. We offered our house instead of making them rent a few rooms. I love Stacy's family. They're thoughtful and kind houseguests that do their best not to impose.

However, whenever we have houseguests I get this overwhelming urge to retreat into my cave. I don't know what it is, some sort of primordial instinct to protect my space? That might explain why I started talking in grunts and flinging household objects at them before dragging Stacy down to the basement by her hair.

Note to self: apologize for the waffle-iron imprint on my brother-in-law's face.

I'm not sure where the vague uneasiness comes from, but I am sure that it is closely related to my innate shyness. I remarked to my mother-in-law about Zoe inheriting my shyness, to which she reacted in surprise. She didn't think I was shy, but very social. That's only true if the other party initiates, really. I will carry on a friendly conversation with just about anyone, as long as they're the one that started it.

Some of my friends may realize that even though I keep a constant online presence throughout my work week, I rarely IM them. It's not because I'm being aloof or too busy (although that happens a lot) but because I'm not an initiator. It's nothing conscious, I'm just solitary by nature.

I suppose I could force some self development by acting contrary to my personality, but I think I'd rather retreat back into my cave.

Ooo ooo oook!

It's Bound to be High in Fiber

Stacy: I've got tons to do tonight, but dinner is in the crochet pot at least.
Me: You crocheted dinner? That's impressive. Macramé and cheese?

Hah! I crack myself up.

Polar Bears, Sam Elliott's Mustache, and Daemons

It may come as no surprise to the readers of this blog that I enjoy the fantasy jonreh. Many aspects of fantasy stories appeal to me on a subconscious level that I cannot truly explain.

Case in point, dress a couple of polar bears in plate armor and pit them against each other in a death match in the frozen north for supremacy over the polar bear kingdom and you've got my attention. The only way to make the previous sentence more awesome would be to - no, scratch that, you can't make it more awesome. If you don't understand the inherent coolness in the concept, then brother, we will never see eye to eye.

In case you haven't guessed it yet, I'm talking about The Golden Compass, of which the polar bear fight scene was only a small portion and quite possibly could have been cut out from the movie entirely(!) without harming the overall story. Thankfully, director/screenplay writer Chris Weitz understands that talking, fighting polar bears in armor is teh awesome.

Jon and I caught the movie Friday. Stacy decided not to go, despite how appealing the movie is to her Lord of the Rings/Narnia/Potter fondness and its obvious links to the other works. Her reasons had to do with the controversy around the original author, Philip Pullman, and the purpose behind the trilogy of books. I'm not going to get into the controversy here. For one thing, I haven't researched it enough to give an opinion one way for another. For another thing, there was nothing in the movie that struck me as particularly blasphemous or controversial. At least, nothing more controversial than LoTR/Narnia/Potter.

Jon gave a review of the movie that echoes many of my sentiments. I will say that cgi animals have come a long way in the last few years. Even though I know they are cgi, there really isn't much to indicate that they are. Unless you consider animals that talk and shape shift unrealistic, but hey, let's not talk crazy here. I understand some stars lent their voices to the animal cast, but the only one that registered on my voice-o-meter was Ian McKellen as one of the fore-mentioned polar bears. His already impressive voice was augmented with extra bass and tone to give it the feel of emanating from the throat of the massive Iorek Byrnison, Prince of the Polar Bears.

It struck both Jon and I as funny that this movie featured a cast that had in many cases worked with each other already. For instance, Ian's nemesis from LoTR, Christopher Lee, made an appearance, albeit brief. The rugged Daniel Craig, although sharing no scenes with her, acted with Eva Green in Casino Royale. Craig also starred in The Invasion with Nicole Kidman. These people can't get enough of each other!

Speaking of current actors in past movies, there was one scene in the movie that triggered strong memories from Fellowship of the Ring as the main character, Lyra, and Iorek approach a natural bridge spanning a bottomless chasm. I couldn't help but think of Gandalf and the fellowship fleeing the Balrog in Moria. As soon as Lyra began to cross, the bridge started to crumble. I leaned over to Jon and said, "Fly, you fools!" I was disappointed when Iorek didn't try to make the journey across. Too easy? Yeah, I guess.

I have a short list of actors that I feel can make any movie watchable, such as Christopher Walken. Among them is Sam Elliott. The man with the mustache could out-cowboy Eastwood or Wayne. I relished every scene of him rambling on like he's sitting around a fire with a bunch of ranch hands instead of flying a balloon in Europe with a talking polar bear and a little girl as passengers.

There was one other actor I'd like to mention. Jim Carter, king of the Gyptians. He was tall, wore eye makeup, and had a formidable beard, yet in no way resembled Alan Moore. The maddening thing about him was how familiar he looked. I sat through all of his scenes wracking my brain to come up with the name. Unfortunately, it seems my brain has been over-wracked. After looking him up on imdb, I found that I had no idea who he was. Even more maddening is that means he reminds me of another actor that I am still can't find.

Damn this brain full of useless trivia that can't even order itself so I can remember a single bit of useless trivia!

The movie itself follows the adventure of a young girl named Lyra and her daemon Pants. Wait, I mean Lyra and her daemon Pantalaimon. In the world Weitz wrote, every human has an animal companion in the form of a daemon, a reflection of that person's soul. Thus we know almost immediately (as if seeing the Her Icyness wasn't enough) that Kidman's Mrs. Coulter is evil just by watching how her golden monkey abuses Pant (In The Golden Compass, you don't pet the monkey, the monkey pets you!) Naturally, Craig's Lord Asriel is noble and strong, just look at his iridescent tiger! While you may think that Elliott's Lee Scoresby would have a fine lookin' thoroughbred, you'd be wrong. Perhaps even more fitting, he travels with a wry female jack rabbit. The titular golden compass is actually an alethiometer, a device few can use but that has the ability to show the past, present, and future.

Is Mrs. Coulter after the alethiometer or Lyra herself? Does Lord Asriel kick as much ass as Bond, James Bond? Does Lyra make Iorek her pet or does Iorek get peckish and have a midnight snack? I ain't tellin'! I try to keep my reviews relatively spoiler free, thenkyewverrymuch. If you can duck the verbal crossfire from the pundits about the metatextual meaning of Weitz's work, check it out and get the answers to these questions and more!

Anyway, I've rambled long enough. The movie was entertaining, with the bear fight edging it towards awesome. It did enough to make me curious about how it ends. We'll see if the controversy surrounding the subject matter prevents me from seeing it to its finish. However, the ending of The Golden Compass was anything but. It is obvious that the studio plans to make at least one sequel. Instead of resolution, we have continued journeys, much like the end of Fellowship of the Ring.

I give The Golden Compass eight out of ten dislocated jaws on a chart I just made up that doesn't mean anything.

Bemoaning Christmas Decorations Lost

I've been wanting to do a post on our Christmas decorations, since we put them up the day after Thanksgiving, but I keep forgetting to take pictures to show them off. I suppose I could thrill you with a written description of the exciting colors and breathtaking designs, but somehow I don't think I'd do them justice. I will tell you this:

Our Christmas tree is purple.

Yes, Stacy has managed to get herself a purple Christmas tree this year. The artificial pine is not purple itself, but almost everything else on it is. It is actually a very nice effect. I think it would look better on a natural fuller tree, but we have allergies to deal with this year, so artificial it is.

The sad part about decorating this year is the loss of our beloved friend of the past three years, Mr. Inflatable-Santa-What-Pops-Out-of-a-Chimney-Sometimes-if-We're-Lucky. Mr. ISWPOoaCSiWL for short. Like a recalcitrant groundhog, he decided this year that he was not going to pop out at all. Instead, we were treated to the rather depressing sight of his pointed hat flopping over the rim of the chimney for a couple of seconds before sagging back into the air-puffed nether regions of the stack. You will be sorely missed, Mr. ISWPOoaCSiWL, sorely missed indeed.

The inner tinker in me has stashed him on the back porch. I think I'll get around to performing some exploratory surgery on the variable fan that pumps up his pedestal and try to convert it to always blowing instead of kicking in occasionally.

We may end up filling his forlornly empty spot on the front yard with this guy if we can find it within our budget. If we do and I manage to convert Mr. ISWPOoaCSiWL into Mr. ISWSPOoaC (Inflatable-Santa-What-Stays-Popped-Out-of-a-Chimney) then he'll probably decorate the side yard. It's criminally bare of Christmas cheer right now anyway. Then again, when you live on a corner lot next to the neighborhood play area, you learn to leave only objects you don't mind vandalized in the side yard.

Related Note Dept.
What's with the humbug this year? Our neighborhood was bare of Christmas decoration besides us and our next door neighbor until this weekend. Doesn't anyone decorate after Thanksgiving anymore?

An Enchanted Evening with Mr. Magorium

On occasion, I like to do something fun with one of my kids one-on-one. I feel that extra attention is something they don't get enough now that there are three of them. As inclusive as we try to be, one of them is sometimes left with the short end of the stick during family activities. It's been a while since I've taken either Vicki, my 6 year old, or Zoe, my 3 year old, anywhere.

Thus, this last Friday became Daddy-Daughter Date Day. I gave the girls their choice of movies playing at the local theater. The free movie ticket coupons we have for that theater do a great job at narrowing options. Zoe chose to see Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium and Vicki chose Enchanted. I can't say either were on the top of my list, but that's not what this was about.

Zoe and I went out first. She was thrilled. She was especially excited to pick out her own candy and had a great time snacking on white cheddar popcorn while we waited for our auditorium to let out and be cleaned. Before long, we were seated comfortably near the middle of the theater with much less of the holiday weekend crowd one might expect. That's what happens when you chose an out-of-the-way, old, and possibly failing theater to attend, but we like it that way.

Zoe loved the movie. She immediately asked as we walked to the car if we could buy it. I still haven't quite convinced her that there is a period of time between a movie showing in the theaters and when it comes out on DVD.

Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium was a cute and sweet movie. It wasn't great, but entertaining enough. The plot meanders like a quite a bit, with very little background given to the characters. That was okay by them, though, since the time not spent showcasing the zany toy store was spent in characterization.

Dustin Hoffman's Mr. Magorium was naturally well-played. I have the feeling that if they made a prequel featuring some of the adventures he hints at here and there, the producers would have a better movie on their hands. That was probably the most frustrating thing about his character, it would have been nice to know more about where he'd come from. It can be argued, probably successfully, that not knowing adds to his mystery and magic, but since that argument would have to take place between me and myself, I'm just not going to do it. That's a road best left untraveled, thenkyewverrymuch.

Natalie Portman's Molly Mahoney, the store manager and Wonder Emporium bequeathee, was almost, but not quite endearing. There was something about her performance that just didn't sell the character. I wanted to believe that she was a quirky musical genius, but the nervous tick her hands playing a phantom piano of their own accord was actually a little creepy if anything. Justin Bateman's Henry Weston, the accountant Magorium hires to straighten his books before making his exit, was sadly reminiscent of Michael Bluth from Arrested Development. Bateman does a great straight man. The token "cute" kid, Zach Mills, tries really hard, but only manages to reach awkward level on his attempt at being lovable.

As I said, Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium was cute. It even made me tear up when Mr. Magorium made his exit, but it could have been so much more. I give this movie twenty-five out of fifty-six escapee bouncy balls on a scale I just made up that doesn't mean anything.

Next up was Enchanted with Vicki. I made a few theater employees do double-takes as I purchased two more tickets for a different movie with a different kid mere minutes after I left with Zoe. I love messing with people's heads. For her part, Vicki was very excited, especially since she and I got to play a video game while waiting for the movie to start. We even came in first place on the racing game we tried out. Gotta start 'em out young, I always say. As with Zoe and Magorium, Vicki loved Enchanted. Despite myself, I wound up enjoying it more than I thought I would.

For those of you impervious to Disney's in-your-face advertising campaigns, Enchanted is about a fairy tale girl (complete with talking animal entourage) banished to the real world by a jealous witch queen intent on preventing marriage between her son, the prince and said girl.

What follows is a completely predictable fish-out-of-water tale as Jaded New York Man (Patrick Dempsey) takes care of Fairy Tale Girl (Amy Adams), Fairy Tale Prince (James Marsden) searches New York for his One True Love™ with the help hindrance of Hapless Henchman (Timothy Spall) and Now-Speechless Chipmunk, and Witch Queen (Susan Sarandon) grows increasingly impatient at the efforts. Can anyone guess the ending? If you guessed that the queen, magically transformed into a dragon, swallows Jaded New York Man, whisks Fairy Tale Prince back to the magic kingdom and rules happily ever after, then you've never seen a Disney movie.

For as predictable as the movie was, there were a surprising amount of amusing bits. My favorite was definitely the Now-Speechless Chipmunk miming the Hapless Henchman's treachery to the Fairy Tale Prince only to have the prince of magical kingdom of Duh conclude that the furry woodland creature was trying to tell him how handsome he was when he slept. Marsden played the clueless prince to the hilt and was infinitely more entertaining than he has been in the X-Men movies. Adams was equally entertaining as the Fairy Tale Girl. Heck, all of the main characters played their roles brilliantly. Perhaps the predictability and stereotypical nature of the characters made it easier for them to hit their marks. I don't know, but it brought the enjoyment level up quite a bit from what I was expecting as I entered the theater.

I give Enchanted fifteen out of twenty toilet-scrubbing New York City rats on a scale I just made up that doesn't mean anything.

I'm Going to Kill Your Monstah!

I went to see Beowulf (in Digital 3D, no less) last night with Jon and Casey. I had been looking forward to this movie ever since hearing about it on Neil Gaiman's blog. Well, there was a short, bitter time after seeing the first trailer and thinking that there was no way the movie would be PG-13. It was, and it didn't disappoint. Although it would have been cool to see it in IMAX 3D, I was happy with the normal theater. That was especially true after seeing the preponderance of nekkid male backside. I mean, who needs to see that three stories high? Not this guy! Grendel's mom kinda made up for it later, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

The story should be familiar to anyone that has read about Beowulf, or seen one of the horrible adaptations such as the one featuring Christopher Lambert. Beowulf arrives in Hrothgar's kingdom to slay the vicious troll Grendel for fame and glory. Naturally, Beowulf forgets that you never have to fear the troll as much as the troll's mother.

Here we are treated to a delightful departure from the traditional mythology. I won't spoil it, but I will say that it does a delightful job in tying the two parts of Beowulf's story together: his initial adventures in Hrothgar's kingdom and his epic battle with a dragon in his later years.

Zemeckis has improved on the technology he used to make Tom Hanks look like a semi-realistic cgi character in The Polar Express. The characters in Beowulf are fantastically rendered. Some true to life, others modified for effect or characterization (and no, even though Jon waited for it, at no time did Crispin Glover's Grendel lean over to the queen and say, "You are my density!") Gaiman and Roger Avary outdid themselves with the screenplay. Naturally, I can't comment on how far Zemeckis' direction departs from their source material, but I happen to know that Gaiman, if not Avary, was present for some of the production and was very gratified by the handling of his work. I generally see that sort of cooperation between screenwriters and director as a good sign.

I can think of no serious criticism for the acting cast. Glover was a little hard to understand during his speaking scenes, but considering the state of Grendel's face, it's surprising I understood anything that came out of that misshapen mouth. I thought of keeping a running tally of Ray Winstone's Beowulf's proclamations of, "I'm going to kill your monstah!" after the third or fourth repetition, but I lost count. Funny thing about Winstone? He's credited by imdb as "Drunken Thane" in the Beowulf entry. Who played Beowulf? According to imdb, he doesn't make an appearance in this, the movie Beowulf.

Anthony Hopkin's conflicted and haunted Hrothgar was predictably good. If Hopkin's can't do conflicted and haunted, then who can? Malkovich's Unferth was as Malkovich as it gets. He not only imparted his trademark voice to the role, but his mannerisms were captured perfectly, especially during his drunken confrontation with Beowulf. Robin Wright-Penn looked better CGIed into Queen Wealthow than she has in years. She also got to showcase her tragic cold side opposite Hrothgar and Beowulf.

Then there's Angelina Jolie. A friend of mine refuses to see the movie because she's afraid it will sully her attitude towards Ms. Jolie. I certainly don't understand the sentiment. Jolie's performance onscreen was magnificent. I never knew her voice could be so sinister and seductive at the same time. Her off-screen (sort of) moments were just as good. We never quite get to see what she looks like with her glammer down, but we do get a good impression as to why Grendel was no looker.

Beowulf was a great movie and a wonderful way to kick off the holiday blitz of blockbusters. I highly recommend seeing it in 3D. There are plenty of great visuals that really burst out of the screen. There are also a couple of those, "Hey look! This is in 3D! See how this object is coming right out of the screen? Crazy, huh? Imagine watching this without 3D! This scene would be so out of place because we're trying so hard to point out how very 3D it is!" that are so standard in 3D movies. For those of you that have seen Vincent Price's House of Wax, think of the paddle board scene and you'll know what I'm talking about. Find it in Digital 3D and you won't be disappointed, IMAX 3D would be even better, though I don't think you'll go wrong with the standard 2D version either.

I give Beowulf fourteen out of fourteen dead thanes on a scale I just made up that doesn't mean anything.

Wottsamattayou? Why You No Write?

I don't really know. We've had a couple of good episodes of The Office since I last reviewed. I could write about those. A few inconsequential things have happened in the past week an a half, I could write about those. I went to a company-sponsored bowling event, I could write about that. I spent the weekend with the kids while Stacy attended a scrap book retreat. I could write about that.

I find myself with a distinct lack of motivation for doing so, though.

Maybe it's because I'm recovering from the creeping crud I contracted last week. Maybe it's because I've become so dang busy at work that I feel any time taken from there just means more work I'll have to do later. Maybe it's my inherent laziness getting the better of me.

Not sure, but what it does mean is that it's been a while since my last update and I don't see myself changing that today. I'll see if I left any spare motivation in my desk and find some time to post later.

P.S. Anyone else find the swashbuckling pirate meez over there a little distracting? I may have to do something about him.

Irony or Just Bad Luck?

Last night I was sitting on the couch enjoying a bite-sized Heath bar, one of my favorite candies. I had just popped the last half of the bar into my mouth and bit down when I realized this one was harder than your average piece of toffee. One more chew made me think that something had made it into the toffee that wasn't toffee. I spit out the offending chunks and examined them. They looked oddly like pieces of a tooth. I was revolted. What if some factory worker had lost a tooth and it got ground into the toffee? Yeah, you've already figured out where this is going, but I wasn't that fast. A probe with my tongue found that besides the usual toffee-filled crevasses of my teeth, there was an odd crater in my back left bottom molar.

My heart sank.

I had chipped a tooth. Nay, I had destroyed a tooth. A full quarter of the benighted chopper had disintegrated into my mouth. I was picking toffee-embedded chunks of tooth out of my mouth for the next few minutes. A Heath bar? Really? My teeth can't handle a little toffee?

Now for the bets part of all. I had just been to the dentist the day before. Not only that, but after x-rays, poking, and prodding, he had pronounced me free of cavities!

Oh well, back to the dentist I go.

So what do you think, ironic or just plain unfortunate? I'd ask Alanis, but I have a feeling I'd know what her answer would be.

Halloween Treats, MerlinTWizard Style

Here are the pictures of some of the treats we served at our annual Halloween party. These are what kept me up until 2:00 AM that morning. They were worth it, though.



Here's a shot of me as a pirate, yarr and all that.