You know when you're younger, and you first discover alcohol, you've got no real standards because you have no experience. So you'll swill anything you can get your hands on. Boone's Farm, Mad Dog 20/20, that cheap Costco beer that just says "Beer".
"Beer".
When only the most generic will do.
But then we get a little older and suddenly the sky's the limit. Even though we're only, like, twenty-three, we start having aspirations of becoming true aficionados.
Maybe we go through a craft brew stage, or an import phase, perhaps we wax philosophical about Yuengling, America's oldest brewery, or the superiority of Argentinian wine.
Not surprisingly, the latter tends to coincide with our "insufferable asshole" stage of existence.
But, for most of us, keeping up such pretense becomes too costly and time-consuming.
Sure, our dalliance with that exotic French label was fun and exciting, but at the end of the day it's just too damn much work. So we drift back toward the safe and familiar. Those comforting brews and vintages that forgo the hype, allowing you to feel comfortable in your own skin. You don't have to pretend to like them for appearances sake...
... not even ironically...
...you like them well enough just as they are.
So honey, I guess what I'm trying to say is; you're fun, easy-going, handy, ready at a moment's notice, practical, economical, and you clean up well.
Babe, you're my boxed wine.
And if that's not the most romantic thing you've ever heard, then yuck fou.
Men, keep this analogy in your cranium for the day when you're being yelled at for being drunk at your in-laws.
Ladies, boxed wine, amiright?! No ridiculous corkscrew accessories, and the party's not over after four glasses.
That glorious celebration where we eat until we want to puke, and then swill enough of some awful holiday cocktail until we actually do puke.
Tonight's gut-rot is brought to you by the letter "E". For "Egg". In your drink. 400 calories worth.
Enjoy.
And as we slowly slip into a food coma, we give thanks.
Generally it's for all the usual stuff: family, friends, our health, and our work.
But lets not forget all the smaller blessings that have been granted us, which might not always receive proper recognition on this day of thanksgiving.
For me it's things like...
- Being an hour late for work... only to get there and realize it's Columbus Day.
State paid holiday celebrating a conquering tyrant. Yay!
- Randomly finding one of my favorite childhood movies available for free on YouTube.
Of course it was quickly pulled, 'cause Disney don't play those games.
But it's glorious while it lasts
- Thoughtful strangers
Stuck at a stop sign on a blind corner of a busy intersection. Locked eyes with the driver across the street who was also stopped, but had a clear view. Got a nod and a "you're good to go" hand gesture. Safe crossing.
Sometimes, people are awesome.
- Ninja Poos
At work when there's only two people in the bathroom. Got to go #2, and suddenly the bowels go all stealth. Not a ripple, not a whiff. Perfection.
Everybody poos. Even ninjas.
- Not living alone.
Personally, I cannot live unsupervised.
In college I didn't wash my sheets for nine months and at one point was so poor and lazy I did nothing but watch VH1's "I love the 80's" and "Flavor of Love".
Subsisting solely on peanut butter directly from the jar, I licked it off a spork like a crunchy lollypop. For two solid days.
Thank God I live with a person now.
She's smiling through her mental illness.
- Third flush is the charm
Ha! Sometimes patience is a virtue.
Won't be needing you this time!
- Heat guns
Like a hairdryer on steroids, these babies work beautifully at helping scrap paint off hundred year old door trim.
And are oddly therapeutic...
As an added bonus, there's also a real possibility of burning down the house.
Which just makes me feel like a hardcore hairdryer wielding badass...
- Parking phenomenon
Safely finding a spot for your vehicle is a challenge we all face.
More challenging for some than others.
Trying to find a parking space, or any space to park is often an exercise in futility. So when a spot becomes available that's actually near my destination and there's still time left on the meter, it kind of forces a person to believe in a higher power.
And lo!
The Jetta Sedan completed their quest early and was able to make room for another traveler.
For so it is written.
So for all these reasons, plus many more, I give thanks. Especially for small miracles.
Commitment: You've been together awhile. Time to take the plunge and share a Netflix account.
I love you so much! Let's combine our love for entertainment!
Just be prepared to be berated for twenty minutes when I find out you fell asleep during "Pulp Fiction".
Compatibility: It's important to begin with a solid foundation. Like a natural consistency in checking the mail and a mutual regard for dark comedies.
Did anyone else just see Patrick Bateman while watching "Batman"?
Attention: It's easy in the beginning, but gets harder to pay proper attention to your partner further on, especially when they keep insisting on starting a conversation five minutes after the PS3 Netflix updates have been completed and you're trying to watch "Wilfred".
It's a man in a dog suit, and it's good.
I know! I was just as surprised as you are.
Respect: New episodes of a show you hate, but your partner loves, have been added to instant streaming, and you tell your partner about them anyway.
He's not a psychic, just really observant? Seriously? The only reason I tolerate it is for the pineapples...
Trust: Having faith that your partner will remember to mail out the old DVD's so that "The NeverEnding Story" will arrive in time for your 1980's movie marathon on Saturday.
Because luck dragons are the shit.
Compromise: Not flooding the DVD Queue with boring "classic" movies, or shitty Steven Seagal "action thrillers".
Tee-hee! It's like Seagal is a pervert.
Bonding: Find that connection to share. Like when you both discover your love for "Archer".
Fuck yes.
Honesty: Not sneakily shifting your movies to the top of the queue to avoid watching "On Deadly Ground".
Ugh. There is just far too much fringe...
Patience: Remaining calm while your partner tries to make claims that Steven Seagal is like a modern John Wayne (he isn't).
Kindness: Sitting through all 127 minutes of "McLintock!" or all 96 minutes of "Submerged" without complaining.
Spontaneity: Agreeing to watch "Toys" on a whim. Discover too late that it's the worst movie ever.
Dammit Robin Williams!
I trusted you!
Communication: Letting your partner know when you're rearranging the lineup of movies in your queue. Checking with your partner before removing anything from instant queue.
What the hell did you do with "30 Rock"?!
Humor: A little less "Requiem for a Dream", a little more "Princess Bride".
Because everyone can use more young Cary Elwes in their life.
Fidelity: Not giving out the damn Netflix password!
Who the hell is watching "Killer Klowns from Outer Space"?
And finally...
Acceptance: Being okay with having half your queue eaten up by Greta Garbo silent films, while the other half drowns in "Zombie Strippers" and Jean-Claude Van Damme doing the splits.
The man's entire career is built on freakish flexability.
Because at this point, who else are you going to find that's so willing to share the journey of conforming ass cheeks to couch cushions?
Like a horde of bats upon a mosquito infested swamp.
A glorious time! A time to celebrate the grotesque, the macabre, and the sluttyness of the female costume, while small children make cocaine-esque lines with pixie stix and slip into a diabetic coma.
Yes... let the sugar flow through you...
As a child, Halloween was a magical time. Dressing up in a fantastical costume, parading from house to house to knock on strange doors and receive candy! The idea is just so absurd, so mind-blowingly awesome! Why would anyone change such a perfect concept?
But the changes have been coming, slowly at first, yet they seem to have gained momentum. And now, with a fresh crop of overly concerned and protective parents beginning to usher their offspring through their formative years, many of the things that made Halloween so great are in danger of being wiped completely out.
So now I'm asking, begging even...
Parents, when you make that special fall trip to the pumpkin patch, (or Wal-Mart's $5 bin), to bring home that delightful orange gourd, don't paint it up like a garish whore.
Admit it, this ^ is the first thing that comes to mind when you think of jack o' lanterns, not that^.
(And is it just me, or does that painted pumpkin look like a nutsack?)
No, you carve that shit into a jagged face while your children roll up their sleeves to scoop out it's stringy guts. The youngest can pick out the seeds to bake for later. This will get them used to the idea of gutting a carcass when the apocalypse comes and we must all begin hunting possum and feral cats to survive.
That's right, reach right down in there and rip out it's stringy heart.
Also, teach your children respect by respecting the calendar. Too many localities have taken up the practice of moving Halloween trick or treating to whatever day suits them. Halloween is on a weekday this year? Too damn bad. No you cannot move it to the Saturday before!
LIFE DOES NOT ACCOMMODATE! You deal with it as it comes!
I first encountered this disturbing practice while living in rural northwest Georgia.
Halloween fell on a Wednesday that year, so the town elders, already drunk with power from banning alcohol and over-regulating dance halls, decided that trick or treating should be conducted on the last Saturday of the month.
Your satanic calendar means nothing to me!
I wasn't home that weekend, (because I'm still in my twenties and obligated to get my Halloween party on), but on October 31st our house lights were on and a large bowl of candy sat ready by the door in anticipation of the hordes of children who would surely be stopping by.
Know how many trick or treaters I had?
One.
One small girl vaguely resembling a vampire knocked on my door around 8:00pm.
I dumped the entire bowl into her bag.
While we're at it here, can we also please agree that the abomination of Trunk or Treating must be destroyed? Or at the very least, be only an additional accompaniment to real trick or treating but not the whole thing?
Also, you're promoting the idea that good things come out of the car trunks of strangers.
Does no one see how disturbing and weird that is?
Part of the fun of Halloween was exploring your neighborhood after dark, transformed as it was by ghostly decorations and jack o' lanterns. Innocently waving hello to other groups of kids while plotting to ambush them later with silly string...
Heh heh...
It was different, fun, and exciting!
Now kids are just trudging along in a parking lot at 2:00pm, mindlessly holding out their pillow cases as various moms deposit fun sized tootsie rolls into their bags.
What has become of us?
Such an activity is only about one step up from going to the grocery store and buying a bag of Kit Kats, which is something that clinically depressed people do.
Yay.
The value of trick or treating in a neighborhood cannot be discounted. It's like a mock-up of the hunting and gathering skills we'll eventually need to survive the crushing rule of our ape overlords. And as kids get older, they begin to understand the benefits of strategy. Working together as a group to pool their resources and knowledge about which houses give out the full sized Snickers and which give out religious pamphlets.
But seriously parents, please, please, please help bring back Halloween as our parents remembered it. Quit wringing your hands and fretting about the "danger". Let your kids have this one night. Get out there with them and ring some door bells, carve some pumpkins, and make some memories.
I have no idea how to make a movie. But I once typed "filmmaking" into Wikipedia.
And holy shit.
Even if it's just three of your closest nerdy hipster friends and an iPhone with filter apps, there is a lot that goes on.
I can't imagine the stress that comes with trying to wrangle the cast, crew, location, and accounting departments for a major studio's big budget flick.
And God help you if it's a period piece.
So, with all the intricacies that go into making a movie, it's easy to see how factual mistakes can occur. And they do. Repeatedly.
To the point where certain things, although incorrect, have become accepted as fact simply because we've seen them happen all the time in movies and on T.V.
Like how this ^ is actually way more common than this ^ And that wheezing noise probably isn't just the oxygen mask...
How law enforcement is portrayed is particularly rife with discrepancies. But besides the stereotypes of idealistic rookie, incompetent prick, thug with a badge, and Danny Glover's being "too old for this shit", here are four things that the entertainment industry loves to screw up.
5. Tasers knock people unconscious.
As seen in: Boondock Saints, Repo Men, Thor
You've seen it before. Someone gets tasered and is immediately out cold for however long it's convenient for the plot of the movie.
Even the immortal God of Thunder is not immune.
Verily.
And while I agree that "magic-knock-out-gun" would be way cooler, in actuality, a taser is just a nifty little device that disrupts the body's nervous system for a five second period, by sending out a low amperage current via two metal probes that stick into the skin.
The two probes make a complete takin-down-a-fool circuit when in contact with the skin.
Just like you learned in science class.
With very few exceptions, the only way a person will lose consciousness after a taser is deployed on them is because they've whacked their head on something while falling.
And if that still sounds scary, just remember, it beats getting a bullet through the chest.
Speaking of bullets...
4. Couldn't you have just shot 'em in the leg?
As seen in: Blazing Saddles, Shoot 'Em Up, several westerns whose names escape me.
It's a tragic thing to happen. A man wielding a knife in a threatening manner approaches officers.
The man is shot and killed. It turns out he suffered from a mental disorder. A public relations nightmare ensues. His family is stunned.
"He wasn't a violent person. I don't understand. Couldn't they have just shot him in the leg?" Says the concerned neighbor, vaguely remembering a Clint Eastwood movie where he shot a gun out of an outlaw's hand.
It's horrible and unfortunate, but no. No they could not. There's a reason why there's no "leg targets" available.
Just these.
Look down at your leg. It's probably comparable to the width of a Subway 6in, give or take.
Delicious gams.
Now consider your chest. Much wider, eh?
When a person is running, the chest area isn't moving around nearly as much as the legs.
If someone is foolish enough to actively try and shoot an aggressor in the leg there's a very real chance that they'll miss completely, or even worse, strike a bystander.
For that reason, (and a few more), there's not a single law enforcement agency that teaches their officers to shoot for the leg or arm. As well they shouldn't.
Because if you need to stop someone without killing them, that's what tasers are for.
3. Ankle monitors are the last word in offender tracking technology.
Fashionable accessories for your favorite felon!
As seen in: Disturbia, Burn Notice
A felon is on the run, but he can't manage to cut off his tether. The camera pans to several officers touching their ear pieces in concentration. They quickly mobilize and capture the offender within minutes!
You won't be scaring children anymore.
Nope. Not so much.
Here's how it really works.
There are several companies that manufacture and maintain ankle monitors, and although they may have some different fancy features, there are only two main varieties: GPS and radio.
GPS sounds way sexier, and is very effective at pinpointing a person's location at any given time.
But effectiveness = expensive. So GPS is generally only used on sex offenders, although not on as many as you might think...
Sorry, but your children's safety is just really pricy.
The radio variety is far more commonly employed, but can only determine whether a person is inside or outside of their residence. They're kind of like an annoying little sibling who tells on you when you break your curfew.
I know you didn't come home until 1am.
I'm telling Mom!
That being said, let's clear up some of the more common mistaken beliefs associated with ankle monitors...
First off, the police are not immediately notified and sent to investigate if a monitor is cut, or removed, or is outside/inside a particular area.
Someone broke their curfew? Get back to me when there's a real crime.
If an ankle monitor strap is tampered with or cut, a notification is sent to the offender's supervision officer, (usually a parole or probation officer)... two to four hours later.
Think of how far away a person can get in two to four hours.
And then imagine that instead of running, they took a car
GPS systems are faster, but there's still a time lapse. And if the bracelet is gone there's no way of figuring out their location.
But couldn't we just round up a posse, monitor all the bus stations, departing flights, and road block all the streets going out of town?
Posse round up time!
I've waited so long for this.
Unless the person has recently committed as especially heinous crime.... no. Too costly, too disruptive, and too poor a use of manpower.
There's also no effective way to "beat" an ankle monitoring system. The monitor works on the concept of maintaining a complete electrical circuit that's embedded into the rubber of the strap. If the connection is disrupted, either by cutting or taking it apart, then the circuit is broken and a notification is sent out.
No problem! You might say. I'm a circus freak with tiny heels, so I'll just wiggle out. Nope. Sorry. The device also needs to stay in contact with the skin so it can register a heartbeat. Which is why people with prosthetic legs get a monitor attached to their wrist.
Trendy!
But while you can't "beat" the system, sometimes the monitor itself is defective. (Since many agencies tend to go with the cheapest monitoring service instead of the best) And setting one up properly can be quite the process, requiring both the officer, monitoring agency, and offender to work together during initial activation. Pretty obvious how that could be an issue...
Some varieties can be awful temperamental too. Strong magnets, proximity to microwaves, and being submerged in water can mess up the system.
Very imperfect device.
2. Forensic science can solve a case in less than an hour!
As seen in: Bones, CSI everything
A good friend of mine works for the Georgia Bureau of Investigation as a forensic biologist. And although she is just as smokin' as all the other forensic hotties you see on T.V, that's where the similarities end.
Of course.
Granted these are T.V shows, so to avoid confusing their audience, they're only going to focus on one case. But meanwhile, the folks who do this stuff for real are multitasking between several hundred cases.
And no, it will not be concluded in 45 minutes.
You expect us to be accurate and fast?!
How absurd!
So if you need evidence processed, hope you're cool with waiting a few months.
And that's... that's all I've got.
I dunno, I don't work in forensics. But apparently when you're dealing with a few million dollars worth of equipment and minute bits of evidence, things take awhile.
1. Read me my Miranda Rights, bitch.
As seen in: Seriously? You really need examples for this? Fine...
Lethal Weapon, RoboCop, Bad Boys, 21 Jump Street, Running Scared, every arrest scene ever...
Anyway, say you're a sovereign citizen douchebag who just got tasered...
Skip to the two minute mark if you're pressed for time. May not have been entirely right, but certainly deserved.
Anyway, now you're arrested and on the way to jail.
But wait! Something seems... off.
Memories of the arrest scenes from every cop movie ever come flooding back...
"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you..."
A-ha! You've got it! Those dumb cops didn't read you your rights. By the laws of Hollywood, you must be set free!
Unless you're being interrogated, (also known as that scene in the movie where the nice officer gives you coffee and a cigarette while the mean officer threatens to jack you up against the wall if you don't answer some questions), officers DO NOT have to read you the Miranda warning. That's it, plain and simple. And I cannot tell you how tired I am of arguing about it.
