Find Me On:
My basic AR reaction was:
Okay. My wife has been pregnant for five years with this big, fat comedy-baby. And at this point all of our friends and family won’t shut up about how excited they are for the baby to come. And we’re like, “We get it. We love babies. We loved those babies five years ago before they “went away.” But please stop talking about this baby. You’re ruining everything we love about babies by posting pictures of one clapping like a chicken in your womb on Facebook every 10 minutes.”
It gets to the point where I’m more excited for the birth itself than the baby. The birth comes along, and we all cry and hug, and it’s the happiest moment of our lives together. But then we realize we’re stuck with this baby—a baby whom, at this point, we’ve grown to resent quite a bit. And like all babies, you should probably keep an eye on them. So I spent the weekend watching the baby. And the baby was cute, and “breathtaking” in that special baby-way, and did plenty of cute, baby-things, but it still didn’t quite feel like my baby. But I guess that’s okay. I just wish I hadn’t spent my whole weekend watching the baby, because now the baby is “gone,” and the cycle will begin anew.
Overall: 7/10, would conceive again.
Method acting in preparation for the role of Murray Siskind.
I totally relate. I wish I had a chance to read him when he was living so I didn’t have to feel guilty about conducting/trying not to conduct a post mortem every time I read him now.
That being said, The Pale King is pretty great for aspiring writer-ish types (me) on the merits of its sentence construction alone.
For some reason this post’s accompanying picture made me laugh harder than I’ve ever laughed at Wahlberg. You might have just proven his point, Gabe.
In other Bookgum-ish news, I just (as in 2 minutes ago) finished DFW’s Oblivion. Woof. (That’s a positive woof, as in, “Woof, that was SOMETHING. How does he do it?”)
As a devoted acolyte of both these human people, I do not know how I was unaware of this. Sincere thanks.
I’m curious about the Frasier tag. Was there a Frasier think piece written recently? I ask because I’ve been re-watching Frasier, and loving every minute with that damn crew.
You’ve truly gone off the deep end, Walter.
Hey, that’s almost the same way I clip my nails! Except I use a month-old pizza box instead of an air vent, and I live in a studio apartment instead of a spaceship.
YOU’RE ONTO ME. GET OUT OF MY HEAD. THIS OUGHTA HOLD YOU OFF FOR A WHILE.
I suggest everyone listen to this:
George knows best.
My roommate’s mom is taking us out to dinner tonight. Fingers crossed for Applebee’s.
Return of the Jedi — A statue is stolen from a large worm, who is later choked to death by a stripper. A bounty hunter falls into a sandy vagina monster. Small bears kill countless men. A religious zealot and his father team up to throw an old man down a well. Ghosts smile as they watch everyone dance.
— Newman loses Dodgson’s shaving cream in some mud.
The Wrestler — A wrestler wrestles.
I had a dream the other week that the new season of Mad Men changed the time period to the 80s without any explanation. Don had a huge proto cell phone that he lugged around in a brief case. Everyone drove triangularic Corollas. It was awesome.
Did anyone else stop watching The Mindy Project in the middle to make a sandwich like I did? It wasn’t “bad,” but it definitely wasn’t “good.”
Also, during the trailer for Les Miserables, this friend said, “I FUCKING LOVE LES MIZZZZZZ” completely unironically, which is fine, but I mean, really?
I loved the movie, though I’m not sure I can explain why.
I went to see it with one of those friends who is super critical of everything and makes rash decisions about hating or loving things within the first ten minutes of watching them, and after the first nine minutes of watching The Master, he leaned over and whispered, “I hate this” into my ear, which was very annoying because I could feel his negative energy spoiling my experience for the next 2-point-some-odd hours, and he kept yawning, and he put his arms inside of his t-shirt and hugged himself like an eight-year-old kept saying, “geeze, brrrrrr!” and then after the movie he kept pressuring me to explain why I liked the movie, and I couldn’t explain any better than saying, “It made me feel ways about things,” and when I asked him why he didn’t like it, he said, “It seemed self-indulgent,” and I’m not really even sure what that criticism means in the context of films anyway—does anyone else have a friend like this?
So yes, I liked it.
You’ll never look at a roll of Bounty the same way.