Obstacle Course

For students, the passing time between classes is a time to get in some quality time with friends, catching up on old times because it has been 3 periods since they've seen each other. Or it's squeezing in a quick make-out session with a boyfriend or girlfriend because Lord knows this is the only place (the crowded second floor hallway) where the two of them can get any privacy and be alone. Or, if it's the Napoleon Dynamite of the school, it's a mad dash to the cafeteria to be the first to get some tots, scarf them down, and then continue to stare at the wall while his hand unconsciously doodles drawings of Castle Grayskull (update to Pokimon).

It is different for teachers.

When that bell rings and a teacher is actually afforded another class in the same classroom, all is right with the world.

When that bell rings and said teacher needs to vacate the classroom in order to go to another classroom, or even worse, go to the cafeteria for duty (high school students still laugh at this word, duty) it's like the American Gladiator Gauntlet Challenge. And there is a time limit.

Students do not move out of the way for teachers anymore. It is unheard of to get out of a teacher's way. Crowds of students congregate in hordes as if their sole purpose in their adolescent lives is to serve as an obstacle in the gauntlet. Students have the innate ability to sense a teacher on their tail and make a point to hit the brakes abruptly to suck some face in the middle of the hallway. And, if a teacher points out to a few star crossed students that the middle of the senior staircase isn't really the appropriate place to become intimate, how dare that teacher invade their privacy and get all up in their bid-niss.

The backpack gangs are always looking to pull off teacher hit and runs. These are the good students moving faster than they ever do in phys ed, whose backpacks are twice their sizes, and who, I swear, load them with bricks. They are professional hallway Froggers, flying by teachers at breakneck paces, dodging, weaving, and ducking in the smallest gaps possible, but somehow manage to whack at least two educators with each pass. They blindside adults without missing a step. It is an amazing feat to witness.

That's it. Just some observational awareness.

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A Behanding in Spokane

Christopher Walken is hilarious. He started his career out knee deep in dramatic rolls, but now seems to have made a complete cross over to strictly comedic performances. At first his choices seemed to rely heavily on his unique voice tone and his delivery of lines, but seeing him live on Broadway has convinced me that his weird inflection choices are all conscious decisions. Whether he has just decided to embrace the laughs he receives from how he sounds, or if he has consciously known all these years how funny he can make the most mundane lines sound does not even matter. He is eff-in deliriously funny.

A Behanding in Spokane is a dark dark comedy of the absurd. A man who lost his hand in a horrible accident 47 years ago has been looking for his stolen appendage his whole life. A young couple has an aboriginal hand that they are dying to pawn off. And a hotel receptionist has unresolved issues with his job title and a gibbon from his past. Absolutely absurd.

Joining Walken onstage for this merry-go-round of absurdity is Sam Rockwell, Anthony Mackie and Zoe Kazan. Rockwell and Walken both seem to relish in how outlandish the plot is and bounce off each other, seemingly riffing back and forth, trying to steer the audience around the next unseen curve.

No part has ever fit Walken so well besides, maybe, his character in Pulp Fiction.

This play is rife with foul language, racial slurs, homophobia, grotesque props (amputated hands), and more Walken-isms than you can count. If none of this is too offensive for you, you will have a laugh-a-second good time.


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Wedding Dream

This was a pretty weird dream. Let me set the scene. For some reason, unbeknown-st to me, the date of the blessed nuptials was moved up to this summer.

It was the day of the union, the morning more specifically. I was being told to get ready and I was all confused. I didn't understand first and foremost why the date had been moved up. I was most concerned about whether or not the bride-to-be was aware of the date change as well. I didn't want to be getting into my monkey suit if the bride wasn't getting all dolled up too.

I remember saying, "Does she even know about this??? She better be getting dressed too because I don't want to be doing this all for nothing!"

I couldn't comprehend why it was nine in the morning and I was getting suited up for a wedding that started at five. It was boggling my dream mind. It seemed so stupid. I was asking about the wedding coordinator and if this date change was her doing or some other shadowy conspirator. There was no explanation to be had even though I was demanding answers.

But there was one concern that I had that trumped all others in the dream. Nothing, not Eydie, the wedding coordinator, who was nowhere to be found, not the bride's awareness of the change in date, and not even me getting my suit on at nine in the morning for a five o'clock ceremony, bothered me more than the fact that I had forgotten something...

my golf clubs!

I was dead set on playing golf that morning, but because of the sudden change with the wedding date, the clubs were forgotten. AHHH!!!


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Let's Get Schooled

Obviously, teachers can use all the help we can get.

Thanks to everyone who voted to pass the school budgets out there. Education is an uphill battle everyday. Just remember how you, your friends, and/or all the other kids treated your teachers. Square that by ten. You have no idea how many cell phones and Ipods I would love to throw out my second story window. So I thank everyone who voted the opposite of what Fat Fatty wanted. You saved more jobs than you know.

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Emancipation of Education

So with all the positive energy our dear Governor is supplying the teachers these days, I thought it was time for a wake me up. The Potbellied Govercutter wants to chop a hell of a lot out of school budgets. Times are tough, but teachers have it hard as is.

Besides having the poo storm of cuts coming down from high up on Mt. Olympi-Trenton, teachers still have to tend to the "little pretties" day in and out. That's all of them. Smart ones, semi-smart ones, street smart, book smart, gym smart, lunch majors, lunch minors, the zombies and the malcontents. For those Ferris fans, that includes "the sportos, the motorheads, geeks, sluts, bloods, wastoids, dweebies, dickheads" - teachers have them all.

So, point in case: math teachers put up with some crazy poop. I completely understand why my high school math teacher had more than just coffee in his mug every morning and why he was 3 sheets to the wind by 4th period. If he wasn't he'd have run head first into a wall years before I got there.

After 7 and a half months of teaching Algebra to freshmen, here is a sample of what we deal with everyday. And I put extra emphasis on every

Real Question on a math quiz:

Joe has 7 fish. Every month the fish double in amount. How many
fish will Joe have after 3 months? --Take a second or two. A little math in your head and carry the one, and you get: 56

Actual answers given by students:

a. 36,407
b. 3,524
c. 49x^6
d. 207,351

This is absolutely, 100% true. I saw the quizzes.

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Kick-Ass

This movie is not for everyone. There are specific requirements to enjoy it. They are a love of:


1. Comic book movies
2. Bloody and Over-the-top action
3. Ten year olds with trucker mouths


This is Spiderman if Spiderman didn't have any super powers, beat the bloody hell out of the bad guys, and instead of using corny insults that just annoy the villains, he tells them to 'go poop themselves'.


This is a fun movie as long as you can handle the absurd. Believe that a well trained ten year old is capable of beating a guy to a bloody pulp and you will love this movie. Believe that a few steel plates and some numb nerve endings are all you need to survive a Louisville Slugger walloping and you will love this movie. Believe that Nicholas Cage purposely sounds like Adam West and you will love this movie.


This is your typical super hero origin story without your typical superhero. Somehow, not having genetically mutated spiders and relying on only one kid's desire to no longer look the other way when someone is in trouble, the film grounds itself so that Hit-Girl's acrobatics and butchery with the blade are believable.













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Rent This!: The Slammin' Salmon

Broken Lizard is back with The Slammin' Salmon. This is definitely a welcome return for Broken Lizard whose Club Dread left a bad taste in some people's mouths (not mine) and whose Beerfest was just a little too goofy for those who didn't spend their college days playing all the drinking games. It isn't a classic like Super Troopers, but you can kind of smell it.

The Slammin' Salmon is the nickname for Michael Clarke Duncan's character, a former heavy weight champion of the world who is now retired and owns his very own restaurant. (a la Rocky Balboa) The Broken Lizard troupe make up his kitchen and wait staff and, as in all of their comedies, all have their own idiosyncrasies flying around in full force. The plot for the film is basic. Slammin' Salmon needs to make $20,000 in one night to cover a betting expense so he entices his employees to push the cod and swordfish like mad and whoever/whomever (throw an English teacher a bone) sells the most at the end of the night wins $10,000. The loser gets a broken rib sandwich.

Mayhem and laughs ensue. Be patient for the first ten minutes or so. The film takes its time getting to the laughs, but as soon as Duncan gets on screen it is on. The Broken Lizards are funny, but the big man steals the show. I don't want to give any of his lines away because it would just be wrong. Needless to say, Michael Clarke Duncan hasn't been this funny since The Green Mile. And I guarantee that if you enjoy this film it will just get better after each viewing.

Remember his accent in this film? L-M-EFFIN-A-O


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Post 24 Post Lost Life

What am I going to do? I mean, really, what the poo am I to do?!? Where else am I going to be able to satisfy my All-American Hero brave crave after Jack Bauer rides off into the sunset??? Poor Renee (tear, sniffle). Can anyone name a character on TV right now who is any more bad ass than him?

SIDE BAR: if you stopped watching for whatever reason-- Dana Walsh's side story started to suck, e.g.-- I've got news for you: 24 got great again. It is "Gosh-darn-I'm-proud-Jack-Bauer-is-a-fictional-American" great again!

So please let me know, who can supply the same bad-ass-ness each week that Bauer gives each second that dang clock ticks on down? Google me this!

You will be missed, Renee.


LOST. Floating LOST title and all. This one isn't so much of a brain teaser. I've heard good things about Fringe. And V has stoked my attention. But the key to Lost is that it has gotten me to care about those castaways. It's done a better job than Gilligan's Island. Whether they are the Oceanic 6, the "lost" castaways, the 'others', or the other 'others', I care.

Character development, you tricky little "fatherless baby", you got me good. I'm hooked like Homer is to Duff. And for that, eff you. You are my heroin crack speedball fix. If that actually is something that exists. If not, you are my helium balloons. Every Tuesday night all my problems go away. It feels so good...so...good...ahh...


Where am I?? Oh, it's Wednesday. Crap. Strung out from my combined Monday-Tuesday 24-Lost fix again. I do not want to crawl out of a toilet like in Trainspotting!


SIDE BAR: Kate looks pretty hot as a lego.

Help me. Please. This is the first step. Admitting to my addiction. But I need to find another great show (at least one) that can settle my nerves. Shoot me back (I mean up) something that will tuck me in at night and make the demons sing sweet lullabies.



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IKEA Mario Kart

A trip to IKEA is a real life version of Mario Kart on good ol' Nintendo 64. More specifically, it's like a one lap race at Wario's Stadium. Let me explain.

We went there looking for a rug. Just a rug. Nothing else. So that is the precious lightning bolt that will shrink all other racers. We walk into the store and the arrow is right there on the floor telling us which is the correct direction to move in and just for safety precautions, I grab a map.

And, we're off. Right away I can see my main competition in this race. There is a family of poster children for what the stars of the Jersey Shore are going to look like in 6-8 months. Tats, hair weeves or extenders or whatever they're called and one toddler tricked out in the same Reebok running suit his father(?) is wearing. I say father(?) because there are definitely some quesitonable traits missing from one to the other.

Anyway, Alys and I get out to an early lead and I am confindent that this will be a quick half lap, hit the short cuts to the rugs and then the escalator to check out. Not so lucky. Damn that red-shelled Manstad Gobo couch with matching love seat for $699. We do not have a room ready for any furniture yet, let alone a Manstad Gobo or the Poang birch veneer rocker right next to it.

My little Mario Kart is spinning after getting shelled and The Situation and Mini The Situation zoom by us. We get our act together and start moving. I pull out the map to try and find a short cut when luck would have it my map is in spanish! What the eff??? I wish I knew then what I know now and that is that Camino Corto means short cut. But I didn't know that so I headed to the Salas and the Modulos de Pared. GREAT!

But Future Jersey Shore is stuck checking out the Hasto Chaise and Headrest ($179) and we zoom on by. I actully cut through the entire Chaise section off the beaten path, making my own short cut, and things are looking bright.

Until I have to hit the brakes and make a complete 180. The flashing "wrong way" appears on my screen and there is nothing I can do about it. I head back to find Alys at the Tyda Handle display. Handles for cabinets that we will not be putting anything into and in turn using said handles to get anything out of for at least 2-3 months. J-Woww passes by with her tanned crew in tow.

We grab 12 handles at a bargain price and actually spy a real short cut. We go from Kitchen & Dining right to Children's IKEA! Nothing here that we need so we fly on over to the escalator. Even better news is Snooky and Paulie are tangled up with Mini The Situation's attention distracted by all the kid crap.

Downstairs we get to the rugs, finally. Trouble is they do not have any Strib in stock. We almost pick up two Lusy Bloms, but Alys, bless her heart, thinks twice about it. I check out the Lottorp, Trampa and Ritva, but none of those pass the Alys miss test.

Off to check out where I dodge a Karlskroma on a hand cart that almost takes out my shins. We succeed in hitting the lightning bolt block, shrinking the Jersey Shore and the Desperate Housewives of Bergen County, who made a last ditch effort out of the blue to beat us, and cross the finish line into the parking lot.

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Date Night

Date Night is a movie you do not go to see for its incredible plot line. The plot is already known. The outcome is already figured out. The happy ending is obvious the moment you sit down in the comfy theater seat. You see this movie for its two leads: Steve Carell and Tina Fey. They are two of the most talented comedic actors on TV and together they are hilarious.

The movie is at its best when they are obviously left alone to ad lib and play. The audience knows they are having fun on screen and it translates to some memorable lines. The cameos in the film are numerous with the funniest being JB Smoove.

Again, the actual plot is as loose and foggy as they come. The obligatory scene in which the leads get serious and work out their personal issues amid the chaos around them is quick and somewhat believable. Ignore all of it. The funny is with Steve and Tina bringing their A games to the table. Sit back and watch Michael Scott and Liz Lemon as real people in ridiculous situations. Put your brain's common sense on hold and enjoy.

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Adventure of the Day

Today I put my nerves to the test. With only "18 miles to empty" I decided to make the 14 mile sojourn down the Parkway to Alyssa's. During rush hour. With temperatures pushing 90 degrees Fahrenheit. Here is the result.

18 miles: Out of the driveway and I make my way to the Parkway. I lose 3 miles just getting to the tollbooth and make it close to exit 163. Still 12 miles to go.

15 miles: "Oh crap!" Traffic. I've got Springsteen blaring "Light of Day" from his In Concert / MTV Plugged Album and the tension is building. Great song, but man am I starting to sweat! And the AC is on! The counter drops to 14.

14 miles: Traffic is stop and go as I pass exit 161. Only ten miles to go so I'm looking pretty good right now... until I look as the digital miles to empty counter which is above my rear view mirror. 12 miles! "What the hell happened to 13?!? Oh, poop!"

12 miles: I turn the AC off and open the windows. I become environmentally savvy quick as can be. I need to conserve my gas. Can I turn anything else off? Nope, Bruce stays on.

9 miles: Checking the traffic to gas ratio. It is holding at a steady 2/3 right now. 9 miles left in the tank with 6 miles to go. I just might be able to pull this off.

5 miles: "Ahh!" I can see the dang sign for gas but my car is not moving. No, my gas-o-meter hasn't lied to me; it's the bloody traffic! I stopped moving with "6 miles to empty" and watched it click on down to 5! Jiminy Christmas!
4 miles: Finally got over to the right lane and pulled off the Parkway! Crisis averted. My gas tank allegedly holds 18 gallons and, I kid you not, it took 17.990 gallons of regular unleaded. Also, on a side note, leather seats and no AC do not mix. I could feel my T-shirt peel off the seat.

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Pre Wedding Bliss-ters

Back in more manlier times, a man would actually go out and kidnap the woman of his choosing with the help of his best friend. This Best Man would aid in fighting off all the other men who were also interested in kidnapping the woman and he would also assist in deceiving the bride's family as to the location of the "happy couple."

That is what I call a kick butt wedding ritual. There are some other really awesome wedding rituals such as the bachelor party, which was known as the stag party. It was held the night before the wedding and the groom would drink and dine with all his friends and he would swear off his crazy ways, but also pledge his continuing friendship to those in attendance.

Today was a less glamorous pre-wedding ritual...for the groom.

Today was the beginning of the gift registry. Crate & Barrel

I'm sorry but a dish is a dish and a fork is a fork. EFF!

The best part of the registering was when a guy, who, like me, was with his better-half-to-be, and they had just came from the little bowl section when the girl found another little bowl. The man proceeds to say, in a hushed shout, "You just scanned one like this over there!"

His lucky lady replies, "No, I didn't. This one is different."

A little bowl is a little bowl.

I turn around and say, "Buddy, I know how you feel."

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