Editors Note: The following post was originally published on BeA Design Group on July 28, 2005.
So the National Hockey League cancels an entire season, becoming the first “major” sport to ever do so, losing most of their fans in the process. And now that they’re back, of course, one of the first things they do is change their logo.
Great, now I need to buy all new gear, since my “I Love the NHL” shirt is outdated.
You bet.
Lets continue where I left off earlier this morning in my 6am post, shall we? Yes, lets!
After a few moments of watching the shuttle footage in awe, one guy broke the silence. He asked me a perfectly legitimate set-up. Did I have the new Coldplay CD, and could he copy it?
Sidebar: I was always really really good in high school at debate. Because I could argue the most ridiculous point and be convincing enough to maybe still win. Some would call this bullshit. Others call it a gift. I call it a good time. The rest of this post is not necessarily my opinion — just things I said to make a convincing argument for a ridiculous point.
No, I don’t have X&Y. But I don’t mind Coldplay. They’re sorta kinda OK. Don’t do much for me. But I don’t object to them. They’re no Franz Ferdinand, no Jet, certainly no Transplants, my favorite band right now (“Gangsters and thugs…Criminals and hoods…Some of my friends sell records…some of my friends sell drugs.”)
Enchiladas is tasty. That’s what my brother told me when he invited me over to his brother in law’s place for dinner. Since sitting at home and watching the Twins get beat by The House would just drive me closer to reading that “Don’t Jump!” book, I headed over. Enchiladas indeed.
And if you must know, they were tasty. But the problem with visiting Josh and Steph is that their guest bathroom has this ridiculously thick lush carpeted toilet seat cover. The thread pile is seriously an inch deep. Why is this a problem, you ask?
Imagine if you will, going into the bathroom to go number one. You lift up the lid, and then lift up the seat, resting it against the lid. But because of the thickness of the carpet pile, the seat never totally rests safely. Instead, it verrrrrrry sloooooowly lets gravity take it down, until it eventually falls fall enough to crash through the stream. Unless you’re quick enough to catch it, and steady enough to do so without misfiring.
Its really quite a trick. Imagine doing this after a couple six beers. Hell, imagine doing this after a couple six Pepsi’s.
The latter was the dilemma last night. The caffeine gave me the jimmy arms. And I knew it was going to happen. So I was so nervous that the results were more percolation — like a Mr Coffee machine — than a faucet, as you would prefer. Just a sad, disappointing mess. The “War of the Worlds” of bathroom relief.
Yesterday morning, the cool guys in the office took a break at 9:30 to huddle around the dish to watch CNN’s live coverage of the space shuttle launch. First one since Columbia ‘sploded a couple years ago, you know. We drew straws to see who had BK duty — who had to trek next door to Burger King for a managerie of breakfast ‘wiches. Good stuff, the BK. But anyway, while we’re watching the amazing footage — the tan booster tank was equipped with a camera so NASA could examine the jettison of the tanks in case damage to the shuttle occurred, and they made the live feed available to the media — six grown men stand in front of the TV in awe. Silent. I mean, how many shuttle launches have their been? A lot many. And the footage is always the same boring ground shot, with the shuttle getting smaller and smaller as it approaches the atmosphere, while you imagine what it must look like up close.
This camera filled in that blank. When the two smaller tanks were jettisoned into the Indian Ocean, we saw it live — just the most sensational thing ever. I mean, it was not computer animation, it was the actual shuttle tanks being jettisoned, live! And then a few minutes later, the camera captured the shuttle itself, now out of the atmosphere and in space, lifting away from the large booster tank. I’m not speechless very often, as you know. But this was one of those times. I mean, how do you even describe LIVE footage like that?
A person who psychoanalyzes beloved movies or TV shows from their youth with the perspective of adulthood is, in my opinion, a prime example of a serious dullard. Am I the only one that believes there is an “off” switch on the adult switch? (Beware. I’m really worked up here. Shoes will fly.)
Why does this come up today? Well, Friday night I went to see one of my childhood faves, Goonies, at the midnight movie at the Dundee here in Omaha. And apparently several people in our group were preoccupied with doing just that — psychoanalyzing Goonies from the perspective of a 25+ year old.
Come on. I’ll argue until I’m blue in the face that Goonies is just an enjoyable flick about a group of kids on an exciting adventure looking for the pirate treasure that might save their childhood neighborhood. Feel free to argue the “one-eyed willie” point about sexual innuendo and what not. You’ll be talking to a brick wall. And I might throw a shoe at you.