I did not care for "The Godfather."

Man, have you ever admitted to someone that you hated a classic movie, only to be argued with, cajoled, reasoned with, and finally personally attacked? All because you did not care for The Godfather? This happens to me all the time, because 1) I have never seen a ton of classic movies, and 2) I am contrary as all getout.

This clip from Family Guy illustrates perfectly the conversations I've had to have with people over the years about movies like Casino, Fight Club, Fletch, and yes, even The Godfather.



I mean, I've never even seen The Godfather, and I can tell you that I'm not a fan. I don't like Al Pacino, and you can't make me.

Update: It appears that this video has been yanked from YouTube for copyright infringy kind of thingys. Eh. It was beautiful, I assure you.

GIANT DOG!

Since the Human Abstract and assorted roadies are lounging around my house today, I've been working with the help of headphones and Triple J for much of the day. On account of said headphones, it scared the living crap out of me when this giant dog appeared in the window next to me. Seriously, this is what Tokyo must have felt like when Godzirra showed up.

Post #286: In Which I Leave the House

We went downtown last night to see Muse at the Fillmore. Great band, great venue -- the Fillmore used to be a roller skating rink, originally opened in the 20s. Now it can hold about 3,500 people, and is the only other "big" venue in Denver besides the two stadiums. So bands who are too big to play the tiny venues, but not big enough to play the stadium, play the Fillmore.

Muse were (was? depends on what country you're in) fantastic, and it was a nice surprise that The Cloud Room opened for them. Of course, we were two of the four people who even knew who the Cloud Room were, but we rocked out to "Hey Now Now" all the same.

Tonight we're going to see Kenny's band in Colorado Springs. I plan on bringing earplugs and trying not to notice that I'm the oldest person in the room. Well, I won't be. Chris will be there with me.

Your seething rage is very important to us.

I just got a bill for a doctor's visit that I did back in April. The first time they sent the bill, I called up the doctor's office to find that due to a clerical error, they hadn't submitted it properly to the health insurance people. They told me they'd take care of it.

A second bill arrived last week, so I sat down today to the unenviable task of calling the insurance company. I won't say which one it is, but I will tell you that it rhymes with Horizon Blue Cross Blue Shield.

After dealing with the overly perky voice recognition lady, I was put on hold for a good 5 minutes. Finally, one of Jersey's finest customer service reps picks up the line:

JFCSR: "Thank you for calling Horizon. All of our representatives are currently on the line with other customers. Um, I can't help you right now, but I can take your phone number and have someone call you back."

Me: "Can't I just keep holding?"

JFCSR: "Um, no, I can't have you hold. Because all of the representatives are on the phone with other customers."

Me: *click*

Isn't the point of being on hold that, although every rep is busy, you get to talk to one of them when they are done? Why can't I stay on hold? They have a woman answering phones just to get people off of them? Why couldn't she look up my claim?

It has occured to me that this may be the call center's sneaky-ass way of minimizing long hold times. If they tell people they'll call them back, the records will show that all calls were answered within 3 minutes or whatever. Some supervisor's trying to fatten up their paycheck.

Update: I called back and got the same "Don't call us, we'll call you" spiel. Funny, when I told them I was somewhere that I couldn't receive incoming phone calls, she was suddenly able to look up my record and answer my question.

Fashion update.

Apparently, I put on shoes so rarely during the day that if my dog sees me throw on flip flops, not only does she assume we're going for a walk, but she's usually right.

It's a good life.

I am exhausted.

Our dog is awesome. But she has been a lot of work in the first few days. We named her Maggie, even though I sometimes secretly call her Taco. What's so tiring is constantly trying to figure out what she wants.

She gets up at 5:30 whether we like it or not, and will sometimes whine while looking into the middle distance. I've narrowed down the possiblities to 1) our house is haunted or 2) our dog is retarded.

Either way, she's been a lot of fun. I have more stories, I just can't think of them right now. On account of being so tired. But here's some pictures of her.




During the day, she usually hangs out in her crate. This was awesome though. She slept like this for a good 10 minutes.


This is what Maggie looks like a lot of the time. A low thyroid condition meant she lost most of the hair on the back of her thighs. It ought to grow back. But when she sprawls out on her side, with her ribs, hairless belly and butt on display, eyes half closed and her mouth hanging open, she looks like a dead dog on the streets of Calcutta.

YAY DOG

Yesterday went very well -- we met Tilapia and took her for a walk. She came with, so that was good enough for us. She's very pretty and comes with her own bed. Now that's value for the dollar. Apparently she's already been given up by another family because "she was too rough with the children." I'm guessing that these kids tried to use her like a small pony and she wouldn't have it. Stupid children.

We're going back out there to pick her up after we buy the necessary things from the pet store. YAY DOG! Here she is. I hate that my disembodied... body (that doesn't sound quite right but you know what I mean) is sticking out from behind her, but it's the only picture we have right now and I'm sure it won't be the last.



After we visited with her, we realized that we were within 70 miles of the Wyoming border, so we popped over for dinner. Man, Cheyenne is a small town. We couldn't stop in time for the "Welcome to Wyoming" sign, but here's photographic proof that we crossed over into a bizarro backwards state, where Carl's Jr. is Hardee's.



But we didn't eat at Hardee's. We found a funky little place that had excellent onion rings and reasonably priced beer. Just to clear that up.

Birds Eye comes through!

In addidtion to them promising to send me some coupons (sweet), I got a fascinating look into the inner workings of the Birds Eye frozen food machinations:

Dear Ms Rhein:
Thank you for taking the time to contact us about Birds Eye Broccoli, Carrots & Water Chestnuts.
Quality has been a primary consideration in the production of our products and it has been that way throughout our history. Please accept our sincere apology for the inconvenience you've experienced. We understand how frustrating it is to be disappointed in a product you have grown to trust.

Our products are mixed using several different tote dumps and blended together at the scales prior to package filling. Each tote dump system has an individual controller that will speed up or slow down a proportioner wheel that deposits an ingredient onto a belt or shaker along with the other ingredients in the recipe. The mix ratios are measured once per hour at the tote dumps and in the actual package.

We have worked hard with the equipment available to us to optimize the consistency of the mix ratios. In the future, we will have separate conveyors and partitions on the scales that will accurately deliver each component accurately into the container.

We value you as a loyal consumer and appreciate your concern. Free product coupons will be sent to replace the unsatisfactory product.

Sincerely, Lynn Consumer Relations Team Leader

Science! And Technology! Truly this is a wondrous time to be alive. I especially love how she implies that their packing methods are going to be changing drastically as a result of my email. Good times, people. What an auspicious start to my new career as a Grumpy Consumer.

On the other hand, how do I get the great job that Lynn has? I would love to spend my days customizing form apology letters with information about faulty tote dumps.

Dog update

I just realized that I have pictures of these dogs I'm talking about, but I hadn't posted them.















The first dog is Brandy, The Dog Who Will Not Walk. Cute, isn't she? Also motionless.

The one on the right is Tilapia (soon to be renamed Taco, Gherkin, Biscuit, or another fun food name). I don't know why they can't take a better picture of some of these dogs. I will be taking my camera tonight to get a better photo of her. They say she is playful and goofy. I think this might be the one for us.

My future career

I've decided to be a cranky letter writer. That is, I've decided to be a cranky letter writer someday when I don't have anything better to do, in the hopes of getting free crap. It worked once before (ask me about the Taco Bell napkins). Today, I practiced for my future career by penning an angry email to Birds Eye about their bag of broccoli, carrots, and water chestnuts. Normally I don't care about such things, but this was really bad. Below is the picture on the front of the bag, supplied by the Birds Eye website. Then, my letter.

This bag of frozen vegetables advertised "broccoli florets, carrots, and water chestnuts." It even went so far as to proclaim "100% Florets!" to ensure me that I wasn't getting the nasty stem bits of broccoli. The picture on the front of the bag features a picture of a pile of vegetables that appears to be about 60% broccoli.

Well, I sure didn't get any broccoli stems. I also didn't get much broccoli. Out of the entire one pound "Farm Fresh Mixtures" bag, there were six broccoli pieces. Six. The rest was pretty much carrots, with some water chestnuts that may have been thrown in at the last minute.

Now, if I wanted carrots, I would have bought the store-brand bag of frozen carrots. It certainly was cheaper than the Birds Eye product. I just thought you folks might like to hear about this in case your packaging plant has gone a little haywire.

Regards,
Elizabeth Rhein

So there you have it. It's the honest truth -- we were really disappointed at the lack of broccoli in our mixed vegetables. Let's see what Birds Eye does with it. Funundrum will keep you posted.

Dog -- Second Go.

Tomorrow we're going to check out another greyhound -- this time it's a girl named Tilia. Wherever do they come up with these names? I'd love to rename her Tilapia, except for that I don't like fish and tilapia always reminds me of the stench of the lunchroom at CubanCo Cruises. Why the Cuban res agents felt the need to bring in leftovers of a cheap fish that smells nasty to begin with, I'll never know.

Anyway. This dog better be good. She's over an hour's drive away. I had initially asked the lady if we could come out tonight to see her. After a really long pause, she said that her son had... something... a concert... tonight... she thought. Then she called me back and confirmed that tomorrow would be better.

Based on the Brandy Experience, I'm wondering if she's stalling so she has time to get the dog repaired. Like Nathan said, these people tend to understate dogs' flaws. "If they say it's slightly hard of hearing, it probably has no ears."

I wouldn't mind a dog missing bits. It would just make me look like a better person. Take Dominic, here. Who wouldn't love a two-legged dog???

Defective dog.

After a very nice home visit from the greyhound adoption agency lady, we were given the phone numbers of a few foster parents that had dogs that she though would suit us.

We just got back from visiting Brandy, a small fawn-colored girl who seemed to be very sweet and loving. But she's defective. You know how most dogs will walk? Yeah, I mean that really fancy trick of putting one paw in front of the other for the purpose of propelling one's self forward.

She won't.

She will, as long as she's in the company of other dogs. We started out by walking partway around the block with Brandy, the foster lady, and one of her other dogs. Brandy did fine. At the corner, the lady went back home and took her dog with her. We got about five feet with Brandy and then she stopped, like a toddler digging in. Nothing we could do or say got her going again, except for a brief spurt when she saw another dog across the street. At the second corner, we stood there like idiots for a good five minutes, unwilling to admit defeat.

Finally, we gave up and called the foster lady so she could bring her dog back out. We ended up pushing Brandy ass-wise through the front door of the house. We told the lady that we couldn't take her, but that she'd make a lovely addition to a house that already has a dog.

Who's ever heard of a dog that won't walk??

Really?

Okay, you know those tribal tattoos that have been ubiquitous for the last several years? For the parents in the audience, this term is used to describe a linear pattern that encircles the upper arm. It's most often seen on douchebags, poseurs, and pasty kids from Nebraska who think they're "street." When the Polynesians and Maori did it first, it was cool. But that was several hundred years ago, so it's a little played out. I thought it would just kind of fade away.

Until I saw this one.

We were having dinner at Chili's a couple nights ago, and were seated at the table next to four pasty grain-fed Plains kids who clearly had nothing better to do with their Friday night. I can't mock too much -- we were all there once. But the tattoo. Dear God. At first glance I thought it was one of these tribal arm band jobs, but on closer inspection turned out to be the Elvish script from the One Ring in Lord of the Rings. Yep. Really.

The saddest part is that I found a similar tat via Google Images. So now not only does this guy have a highly visible tattoo that says to everyone "HEY I GOT A TATTOO IN 2004 BECAUSE I REALLY LIKED THIS ONE MOVIE" but he can't even claim to have an original idea. Unless he's the guy in this picture, but I doubt it.



Update: It has been pointed out to me that he could have gotten the tattoo as a result of really liking the books rather than the movie, but how likely do you think that is? Exactly.

Camping stories

We spent three days and four glorious nights this last holiday weekend camping in Rocky Mountain National Park. I simply can't believe that a place like this --



-- is only a two-hour drive from my doorstep. The forest is beautiful, and completely different to any other I've ever seen. There are honest-to-goodness wildflowers, aspens, alpine vegetation, and even tundra, somewhere up around the 11,000 foot elevation.

Andy, Jennie, Chris, and I didn't have much of a plan other than to head up there with our camping gear, plenty of booze, and an intention to commune with nature for at least a couple of hours every day. The meals we cooked were tasty and wonderful, the beer cold, and the campfires toasty. Also we played cribbage.

But it rained.

Lord Jesus, did it rain.

Our first full day, we managed to get in a nice hike out to Bear Lake before the clouds came rolling in. Fortunately, we had set up a tarp shelter to take refuge under. The second day, we managed to wait out most of the worst rain in town, where we were taking showers and partaking in an excellent Mexican meal.

The third day dawned clear and beautiful. There were some big puffy clouds in the sky, and as we made sandwiches and geared up for a hike to Fern Falls we were so confident in the weather holding that both Andy and I decided not to take our fleece jackets. So there we were, about a mile into our hike, when the rain began. Not bad, just enough to keep us cool and keep the bugs down. About a mile later, right about the time we realized that we had made a turn onto the wrong trail, the storm began in earnest. Thunder and lightning were nearly continuous, and the rain had solidified into the category of unmistakably wet.

After consulting the map a few times, we realized that we would reach civilization faster by going forward for another two miles rather than by retracing our steps. Our hike turned into a cross between the Bataan Death March and a tryout for Survivor. We had to keep moving to stay warm and reach our goal, but go slow enough to avoid any broken bones. Before long, our trail had turned into a muddy stream that widened into a muddy pool in places.

Chris was our only casualty -- he slipped and scraped his leg a little, and begged us to leave him and save ourselves. We thought about eating him for energy, but Andy couldn't light a fire before Chris was up and walking again. So we brought him with us.

At long, long last we came within sight of the trailhead and the shuttle stop that would take us back to our campground. The wait for the shuttle was interminable, but it finally came and after what seemed like the longest, most miserable bus ride in history, we made it back to camp and changed into dry clothes.

I thought it was a great adventure, and even at the worst bits, it was still better than working. So I give it one thumb up. Can't give it two, because damn -- we were in the middle of a rainstorm in the Rockies with no dry clothes or shelter.

This is all very true, except for the part about trying to eat Chris. He's fine, by the way, and escaped with only a few scratches. Take a look at all the pictures here -- you can either watch a slide show or click on each one to enlarge it and see the full caption. We could have taken a lot more, but it's so pretty that you either end up with 30 pictures or 300. There will be a few more good ones when Andy emails us his share from his camera.

We have beaten Nature.

We're back from camping in the Rockies. It was wet. But since I'm supposed to be working right now, I'll have to leave the pictures and stories for later.

For now, I'll give you this fantastic video that I saw on Yahoo. It's film of people's reactions as they view one of the world's greatest artistic masterpieces. Just brilliant.