While the cat's away...
Well, you know the rest....
Anyway, The Missus is out of town on assignment, which leaves me at home to engage in the shenanigans that I haven't taken part in since bachelor-hood.
So, how does The Pieman pass the time, if not already busy fishing for belly button lint? Glad you asked. Behold...
THE PIEMAN'S FUN-TIME ENTERTAINMENT GUIDE
The first thing a man must do before engaging in the shenanigans, or tom-foolery, or even (shudder) buffoonery, is to eat. And, for a single man on the run, nothing could be finer than tasty, yummy, delightful Du's Grill (you can google and find a more liberally-worded, but equally accurate review in the Portland Mercury). What do I love the best about Du's? Some might say the salad dressing (a thin white mist with poppy seeds and some kind of heroin derivative that leaves you in withdrawals for days on end), others would say the hearty portions of chicken. You would be close, but not close enough. What really draws me is the lovely front-counter chick, who whenever I call answers in a sing-song voice, proclaiming "Du's Gwiw" to whoever calls. I swear, this is accurate and not intended to be racist. In fact, if I'd met her a few years earlier, I'd have proposed marriage right next to the soda machine. She's just that nice to listen to. Her voice haunts me even as I type this.
Now, to pass the many hours of bachelor loneliness while successfully avoiding housework, some guys would tell you to go to a movie. Some would say that a bar is nice. I declare, here and now, that nothing beats good ol' fashioned video games. And, despite my allegiance to the PS2 (as portrayed in my family album on the mothership) I am a big, big fan of the X-Box.
I don't own an X-Box. I'm not permitted to (unless I let my wife throw out a bunch of my old clothes, but her definition of old and mine don't match. She wants to throw out the stuff that finally fits right, by virtue of the holes and such, and that just can't be permitted). Thanks, however, to the generosity of Mr. 12 (who has momentarily bored of his), I can play as much of 3 different games as I wish (which, at the moment, is little to none).
Now, here's what I love about X-Box. X-Box can be hooked to other X-Box's in a daisy-chain of joy, creating the opportunity for perfectly good friends to kill eachother until their hands cramp with delight. I first discovered this possiblity when one of my cohorts, Greggers, invited me over for Portland's first-ever HALO Tourney. Now, for those of you who haven't played HALO, I weep for you. HALO (when played alone) involves you running around and shooting aliens, all with the goal of getting to the end so the various characters will stop annoying you through various cut-sequences. Greggers has one of those big-screen TV's. And, just to make this clear, by big-screen TV I mean a movie projector pointing at a full wall which serves as a screen. I mean, this is AWESOME. So, when Greggers reached down from his ivory tower to invite me into his inner sanctum, I was honored. Not just politely honored, but honored in the same way as the kid who manages to score a $50 Pete Rose autograph for $10 because Charlie Hustle really likes the kid's moxie. That kind of honored.
So, HALO Tourney comes, and me and the boys hustle to la casa de Greggers to engage in some butchery. I remember the first time walking into this den of iniquity. To my right was the movie collection. Further up was the X-Box game collection. Then the surround sound stereo system, the signed sports jerseys on the wall, the dim lighting, and a giant video screen filled with digitized delight. There was Greggers, sprawled out on his psuedo-naugahyde (read "Corinthian leather") couch. Behind me, a group of anxious young boys walked up, looked down at my prostate mass, told me to stop drooling so much, stepped over, and began the preparations for HALO Tourney. I got up (after a few minutes of appropriate introspection and cursing my vile impoverished state), brushed myself off, and proceeded to play HALO.
Now, I've never owned an X-Box, and up until HALO Tourney 1, I'd only played HALO two or three (short) times. And most of the other contestants were tried and true HALO junkies. But I have distinguished myself (repeatedly now) as a killing machine. Nothing satisfies me more than to hear the cries of my cronies as another life slips away and they scream "AAAAARRRGHHHH!!!! PIEMAN!!!!!!" Oh, such sweet music.... Even Greggers, my munificent benefactor of joy and a wily demon of death himself, bows to me (once, of course, I've shot him into submission).
Man, I love HALO.
I may love HALO too much. I intentionally omitted part of last night's dinner-time conversation in yesterday's installment. While eating sushi and drinking Bu...er...Kirin, I discovered that Bosco had made an investment in HALO: The Collector's Edition. Apparently, although Bosco already owns HALO 1, he was suckered into buying the two-disc set (half of which is HALO 1) when he went in to inquire as to when his pre-paid copy of HALO 2: Electric Boogaloo would be showing up. For only $5 more, Bosco managed to buy the earth's greatest coaster. Which led to a truly geeky conversation about what The Collector's Edition may have in store. I suggested that there might be a HALO, The Director's Cut. Perhaps it was unrated. This sent BD and Bosco into a frenzy of discussing those cuts from the original which might move The Director's Cut from a PG-13 to an R rating.
We truly need lives.
But HALO is not what I'm doing tonight. No, other than writing the same blog article over and over (see my last quick note from earlier this evening), I am enjoying the fruits of Netflix.
Netflix, for those who don't know, is truly an awesome creation. For $20 a month, you can rent up to 3 movies at a time and keep them until you're blue in the face (although I don't see why you would) without ever being charged a late fee. And the collection is quite extensive. Sign up today. And, Mr. Netflix, you can make that check payable to "Mr. Pieman", thank you.
Netflix has come in truly handy in keeping The Missus happy of late. The Missus, much like all of us, loves TV. Which isn't bad. I love TV. You may, too. The Missus, however, has a knack for loving shows just as they're being cancelled. First was Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BTVS). Then, Friends. And, finally, Angel.
Angel is what will, eventually, get us to the end of today's rambling. But first, the appropriate introduction.
My wife loved BTVS, almost to the point of needing counseling for her addiction. When BTVS left the airwaves a year ago, my wife literally shed tears and went into a deep, deep funk for days. But, wait, she discovered that Angel still existed, if on a different channel, and despite Buffy's departure from Sunnydale, my wife's journey with the creations of Joss Whedon continued into another season (when The Missus wasn't reliving the old days, courtesy of Netflix's BTVS collection).
Little did we expect that Season 5 marked the end of Angel. You should have seen the tears well up when The Missus realized that the vampire with a soul would soon be leaving our screen forever. You should have heard her insistence that I not muck up the VCR when we recorded the last episode (if you need to see it, come on over...). You should have seen her delight when she found Angel on Netflix.
Being a supportive husband, I've been watching with her. Despite the fact that it's obviously written for chicks, Angel is a pretty good show. So imagine our horror when we watched the last of Season 3 last week, and discovered that Season 4 hasn't hit Netflix yet.
The Missus may never stop crying. Don't tell her, but I may not either...
And, as promised, Angel, the brooding vampire with a soul, leads us to tonight's last topic. Behold,
THE PIEMAN'S ULTIMATE VAMPIER MOVIE GUIDE
Here's the rules. I haven't necessarily seen all these movies. However, that doesn't mean I can't judge them.
Best:
Interview with the Vampire: The true inspiration for tonight's ramblings. Just got it from Netflix and watched it while eating my Du's. Couple things that struck me: Kirsten Dunst, who I generally regard as weird-looking and slightly vacuous, was awesome as the little evil blood-sucking fiend Claudia. For her age, she really captured the part well. However, the movie was stolen by the usually-horrible Antonio Banderas, playing Armand. Good stuff. Would give you a link, but the one I got off the special features part of the DVD is down, and I"m not inspired enough to find a newer one.
Blade (I & II): Wesley "Always Bet on Black" Snipes as a butt-kicking half-vampire. Plus, Kris Kristoferson dies in the second one, which always makes a movie worthwhile. Apparently, the third installment is coming out pretty soon.
Underworld: Kate Beckinsale plays the brooding ninja-type super vampire Selene. Also has a follow-up in the works.
Once Bitten: No, I'm not kidding. Jim Carrey's debut as a rubber-faced teen seduced by the evil Lauren Hutton. A must-see.
Worst:
Queen of the Damned: Another of Anne Rice's Vampire Chronicles books made into a movie. I didn't even need to see it to know it sucked.
Vampire in Brooklyn: Please...
From Dusk 'til Dawn: This is a tough one. Robert Rodriguez is like the Mexican Tarantino, and I generally like his work. But casting Tarantino in your films is always inexcusable, and George Clooney seems disinterested most of the time. Otherwise, not really all that bad.
Vampires: To borrow a phrase from the Simpson's comic book guy, "Worst...movie...ever."
No more links today. I'm fading fast, and The Natural just came in the mail as well. With the softball and yesterday's all-star game, I'm inspired.
Speaking of brewery-related horrors, did you hear that Guiness is now being brewed by our very own Coors Brewing Company? Read about it here (you'll have to poke around a bit) . At some point, this madness must come to an end.
What? Can't find the article? That's because I'm just kidding. Seeing if JLowe's really reading this drivel.
Anyway,
Catch ya later.
Anyway, The Missus is out of town on assignment, which leaves me at home to engage in the shenanigans that I haven't taken part in since bachelor-hood.
So, how does The Pieman pass the time, if not already busy fishing for belly button lint? Glad you asked. Behold...
THE PIEMAN'S FUN-TIME ENTERTAINMENT GUIDE
The first thing a man must do before engaging in the shenanigans, or tom-foolery, or even (shudder) buffoonery, is to eat. And, for a single man on the run, nothing could be finer than tasty, yummy, delightful Du's Grill (you can google and find a more liberally-worded, but equally accurate review in the Portland Mercury). What do I love the best about Du's? Some might say the salad dressing (a thin white mist with poppy seeds and some kind of heroin derivative that leaves you in withdrawals for days on end), others would say the hearty portions of chicken. You would be close, but not close enough. What really draws me is the lovely front-counter chick, who whenever I call answers in a sing-song voice, proclaiming "Du's Gwiw" to whoever calls. I swear, this is accurate and not intended to be racist. In fact, if I'd met her a few years earlier, I'd have proposed marriage right next to the soda machine. She's just that nice to listen to. Her voice haunts me even as I type this.
Now, to pass the many hours of bachelor loneliness while successfully avoiding housework, some guys would tell you to go to a movie. Some would say that a bar is nice. I declare, here and now, that nothing beats good ol' fashioned video games. And, despite my allegiance to the PS2 (as portrayed in my family album on the mothership) I am a big, big fan of the X-Box.
I don't own an X-Box. I'm not permitted to (unless I let my wife throw out a bunch of my old clothes, but her definition of old and mine don't match. She wants to throw out the stuff that finally fits right, by virtue of the holes and such, and that just can't be permitted). Thanks, however, to the generosity of Mr. 12 (who has momentarily bored of his), I can play as much of 3 different games as I wish (which, at the moment, is little to none).
Now, here's what I love about X-Box. X-Box can be hooked to other X-Box's in a daisy-chain of joy, creating the opportunity for perfectly good friends to kill eachother until their hands cramp with delight. I first discovered this possiblity when one of my cohorts, Greggers, invited me over for Portland's first-ever HALO Tourney. Now, for those of you who haven't played HALO, I weep for you. HALO (when played alone) involves you running around and shooting aliens, all with the goal of getting to the end so the various characters will stop annoying you through various cut-sequences. Greggers has one of those big-screen TV's. And, just to make this clear, by big-screen TV I mean a movie projector pointing at a full wall which serves as a screen. I mean, this is AWESOME. So, when Greggers reached down from his ivory tower to invite me into his inner sanctum, I was honored. Not just politely honored, but honored in the same way as the kid who manages to score a $50 Pete Rose autograph for $10 because Charlie Hustle really likes the kid's moxie. That kind of honored.
So, HALO Tourney comes, and me and the boys hustle to la casa de Greggers to engage in some butchery. I remember the first time walking into this den of iniquity. To my right was the movie collection. Further up was the X-Box game collection. Then the surround sound stereo system, the signed sports jerseys on the wall, the dim lighting, and a giant video screen filled with digitized delight. There was Greggers, sprawled out on his psuedo-naugahyde (read "Corinthian leather") couch. Behind me, a group of anxious young boys walked up, looked down at my prostate mass, told me to stop drooling so much, stepped over, and began the preparations for HALO Tourney. I got up (after a few minutes of appropriate introspection and cursing my vile impoverished state), brushed myself off, and proceeded to play HALO.
Now, I've never owned an X-Box, and up until HALO Tourney 1, I'd only played HALO two or three (short) times. And most of the other contestants were tried and true HALO junkies. But I have distinguished myself (repeatedly now) as a killing machine. Nothing satisfies me more than to hear the cries of my cronies as another life slips away and they scream "AAAAARRRGHHHH!!!! PIEMAN!!!!!!" Oh, such sweet music.... Even Greggers, my munificent benefactor of joy and a wily demon of death himself, bows to me (once, of course, I've shot him into submission).
Man, I love HALO.
I may love HALO too much. I intentionally omitted part of last night's dinner-time conversation in yesterday's installment. While eating sushi and drinking Bu...er...Kirin, I discovered that Bosco had made an investment in HALO: The Collector's Edition. Apparently, although Bosco already owns HALO 1, he was suckered into buying the two-disc set (half of which is HALO 1) when he went in to inquire as to when his pre-paid copy of HALO 2: Electric Boogaloo would be showing up. For only $5 more, Bosco managed to buy the earth's greatest coaster. Which led to a truly geeky conversation about what The Collector's Edition may have in store. I suggested that there might be a HALO, The Director's Cut. Perhaps it was unrated. This sent BD and Bosco into a frenzy of discussing those cuts from the original which might move The Director's Cut from a PG-13 to an R rating.
We truly need lives.
But HALO is not what I'm doing tonight. No, other than writing the same blog article over and over (see my last quick note from earlier this evening), I am enjoying the fruits of Netflix.
Netflix, for those who don't know, is truly an awesome creation. For $20 a month, you can rent up to 3 movies at a time and keep them until you're blue in the face (although I don't see why you would) without ever being charged a late fee. And the collection is quite extensive. Sign up today. And, Mr. Netflix, you can make that check payable to "Mr. Pieman", thank you.
Netflix has come in truly handy in keeping The Missus happy of late. The Missus, much like all of us, loves TV. Which isn't bad. I love TV. You may, too. The Missus, however, has a knack for loving shows just as they're being cancelled. First was Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BTVS). Then, Friends. And, finally, Angel.
Angel is what will, eventually, get us to the end of today's rambling. But first, the appropriate introduction.
My wife loved BTVS, almost to the point of needing counseling for her addiction. When BTVS left the airwaves a year ago, my wife literally shed tears and went into a deep, deep funk for days. But, wait, she discovered that Angel still existed, if on a different channel, and despite Buffy's departure from Sunnydale, my wife's journey with the creations of Joss Whedon continued into another season (when The Missus wasn't reliving the old days, courtesy of Netflix's BTVS collection).
Little did we expect that Season 5 marked the end of Angel. You should have seen the tears well up when The Missus realized that the vampire with a soul would soon be leaving our screen forever. You should have heard her insistence that I not muck up the VCR when we recorded the last episode (if you need to see it, come on over...). You should have seen her delight when she found Angel on Netflix.
Being a supportive husband, I've been watching with her. Despite the fact that it's obviously written for chicks, Angel is a pretty good show. So imagine our horror when we watched the last of Season 3 last week, and discovered that Season 4 hasn't hit Netflix yet.
The Missus may never stop crying. Don't tell her, but I may not either...
And, as promised, Angel, the brooding vampire with a soul, leads us to tonight's last topic. Behold,
THE PIEMAN'S ULTIMATE VAMPIER MOVIE GUIDE
Here's the rules. I haven't necessarily seen all these movies. However, that doesn't mean I can't judge them.
Best:
Interview with the Vampire: The true inspiration for tonight's ramblings. Just got it from Netflix and watched it while eating my Du's. Couple things that struck me: Kirsten Dunst, who I generally regard as weird-looking and slightly vacuous, was awesome as the little evil blood-sucking fiend Claudia. For her age, she really captured the part well. However, the movie was stolen by the usually-horrible Antonio Banderas, playing Armand. Good stuff. Would give you a link, but the one I got off the special features part of the DVD is down, and I"m not inspired enough to find a newer one.
Blade (I & II): Wesley "Always Bet on Black" Snipes as a butt-kicking half-vampire. Plus, Kris Kristoferson dies in the second one, which always makes a movie worthwhile. Apparently, the third installment is coming out pretty soon.
Underworld: Kate Beckinsale plays the brooding ninja-type super vampire Selene. Also has a follow-up in the works.
Once Bitten: No, I'm not kidding. Jim Carrey's debut as a rubber-faced teen seduced by the evil Lauren Hutton. A must-see.
Worst:
Queen of the Damned: Another of Anne Rice's Vampire Chronicles books made into a movie. I didn't even need to see it to know it sucked.
Vampire in Brooklyn: Please...
From Dusk 'til Dawn: This is a tough one. Robert Rodriguez is like the Mexican Tarantino, and I generally like his work. But casting Tarantino in your films is always inexcusable, and George Clooney seems disinterested most of the time. Otherwise, not really all that bad.
Vampires: To borrow a phrase from the Simpson's comic book guy, "Worst...movie...ever."
No more links today. I'm fading fast, and The Natural just came in the mail as well. With the softball and yesterday's all-star game, I'm inspired.
Speaking of brewery-related horrors, did you hear that Guiness is now being brewed by our very own Coors Brewing Company? Read about it here (you'll have to poke around a bit) . At some point, this madness must come to an end.
What? Can't find the article? That's because I'm just kidding. Seeing if JLowe's really reading this drivel.
Anyway,
Catch ya later.
posted by Rusty at 11:10 PM
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