Jane‘s entry yesterday, wherein she discussed (or mentioned in passing) Paco’s habit of frantically pacing whilst talking on the phone makes me want to tell you all that when Fred gets a phone call, he doesn’t frantically pace. Oh, no – he does something much worse. He goes out into the garage and shuts the door so he can concentrate on his call in the peace and quiet of the garage.
Which makes me think he’s out there talking shit about me, of course.
He used to be normal and would just sit in the house and talk on the phone, but then he’d hang up, and I’d ask him what he meant when he said something-or-other to his dad (or whomever he’d been talking to), and he wouldn’t be able to remember, and then he’d get annoyed, so he started taking the phone into the garage so I wouldn’t harass him.
Bastard.
* * *
We watched
Super Size Me last night. Good movie! I think we must be getting reallllly old, because we’re starting to really love documentaries. I know that when I was a kid, the idea of watching a documentary made me want to fall asleep immediately, but nowadays I just can’t get enough of them. In the morning while I’m working out, I’m currently watching
Stevie, which is sometimes hard to watch so I end up pausing it for a little while. Before that, I watched
My Sergei, which was documentary-style, and I think there was something else before that. We’re also going to rent
The Hunting of the President at some point as well – I would have rented it yesterday, but we’re taping so many television shows to watch that I don’t think we’d have time to watch it this week. Maybe next week.
Speaking of Sergei Grinkov – which I was up there in that paragraph somewhere – remember how a few months after he’d died, all his skater friends (and wife) got together and did a tribute show to him, called
Sergei Grinkov: Celebration of a Life, or something like that? And how Oksana Baiul came out in black and skated to Ave Maria, and by the end she was so sobbing and hysterical that you would have thought
she was the widow?
Man, I need to figure out how to get a copy of that show because just thinking about it makes me want to see it again.
Anyway, we watched
Super Size Me! and enjoyed it a great deal. I find that it always helps when the guy the documentary is about seems like someone it’d be fun to hang out with. I was surprised that of all the times Morgan Spurlock went to McDonald’s – three meals a day times thirty days is in the area of 90 visits – he was only asked to supersize his meals nine times. When I worked at McDonald’s as a teenager and someone ordered “a fry” without specifying what size, you were supposed to say “Was that a medium fry?” because if you said “What size fry would you like?”, the person would probably say “Oh, give me a small”, but if you suggested a medium, they’d almost always go with that. It was called up-sizing and was one of the things we were supposed to do regularly. In fact, if you were being evaluated and didn’t attempt to up-size, you’d get points off. I imagine it’s the same thing with super-sizing, that employees are supposed to suggest the super-sizing every time someone chooses a value meal.
How much “value” there is in a McDonald’s value meal is another topic altogether.
I found the movie fascinating, and the end even more so. It took two months to reverse the damage Morgan Spurlock had done to himself in one month of eating McDonald’s three meals a day. It took TWICE AS LONG to reverse the damage that he’d done to his body. That is just amazing.
The paintings that showed up all through the movie were CREEPY as hell. Just thinking about them now gives me the willies. Brrrr.
Good movie, though – highly recommended.
* * *
I stepped out of the bathroom this morning after putting my contacts in to see that the door to the bedroom closet was mostly closed. From in the bathroom, I had heard Meester Boogers running around in the closet and then heard something fall over. I glanced at the floor along the bottom of the closet door, and my mouth dropped open. It looked like there were bug parts spread all over the place, and I could only imagine what kind of bug he had in there.
When I got closer to the closet door I realized those weren’t bug parts – those were pieces of Kitten Chow. I know I’ve mentioned it before, but I’ll mention it again: Miz Poo, Meester Boogers, and Spanky get a little pile of Kitten Chow as a treat every night before bed. We keep the box of Kitten Chow on a shelf in the closet, and it appeared that Meester Boogers had knocked the box off the shelf.
I opened the door to see Meester Boogers sitting on the closet floor surrounded by Kitten Chow, the Kitten Chow box next to him. He glanced up at me, made a grumpy sound, and continued eating as much Kitten Chow as he could fit into his mouth. I picked the box up and put it away, and Miz Poo and Spanky heard the noise and came running.
I thought about vacuuming up the Kitten Chow, but in the end left it, because I know that between the three of them, they’ll vacuum up each and every piece of Kitten Chow before the day is through.
I guess we need a better hiding place for the box of Kitten Chow.
* * *
Mysterious, or just a dork? You decide.
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