Let's All Go to the Movies!

My wife's out of town for the weekend kicking butt at a singing competition, so I had the house for myself to do whatever I wanted to do. Unfortunately, my lungs decided that meant taking a break from recovering from a horrible cold I've had for two weeks now and developing full-blown bronchitis, so I mostly lied around.

Sunday, though, I decided to see a movie; specifically, Cabin in the Woods. Kat doesn't share my enthusiasm for going to the movies, since she'd rather, y'know, do stuff. Like, outside. When I can convince her to watch a movie with me, the compromise is usually that it's something with minimal violence and scary stuff. She just can't handle it. Not in a "I don't like to be scared" way, either; I'm talking, like actual psychic damage to her soul. She cried at the violence in an episode of Family Guy. So I figured if ever I wanted to see this flick, this weekend would be my best chance.

But first I had to overcome my social anxiety about going to the movies alone. What is it about that? I know I'm not the only one who feels weird about seeing a movie alone, but why? It's passively watching a screen; I do that alone all the time. And it's not like watching a movie is all that social an experience anyway. If you talk to someone during a movie, you're not enjoying a movie. You're an asshole. So whatever, I watched a movie alone and felt like a creepy guy. Such is my emotional baggage.

The movie was good. I kept seeing people talking about the "twist," which I don't really understand because A) the "twist" is explained in the opening five seconds, and B) I'm familiar with The SCP Foundation, which I feel like Joss Whedon pretty blatantly ripped off. I hope they at least got some kind of royalty. But I'm not even gonna talk about the movie. Go see it if you're into scary movies. It's good.

I missed a 15-minute portion, though, because a severely drunk, belligerent, apparently-homeless guy of indeterminate Southeast Asian origin (Indian? Pakistani? I didn't get to ask) stormed into the dark theater screaming at...someone. He dragged two or three ushers in with him and charged up the stairs to a row behind me and began wading through the increasingly-alarmed crowd screaming obscenities and insulting a woman about something. He also kept screaming "I STOP THIS WHOLE MOVIE NOW!" Between that and all the F-bombs and outbursts of "whore" and various insults, it didn't take long for him to agitate a lot of the dudes there with dates and either feeling threatened or required to impress their ladies into standing up and shouting back.

While three extremely-overwhelmed teenage ushers repeatedly radioed in for security, three of the bigger patrons stood up and manhandled this guy (and his three or four shopping bags, I guess he stopped to pick up a few things on his way in) out the theater. The whole way he screamed things like, "Fuck you!" and the good Samaritans would respond, "NO, FUCK YOU!" as if trying to shout down a guy like that is ever going to convince him of the error of his ways.

He was tossed out and eventually everyone settled down after briefly directing their built up anger on one guy who kept yelling at the projectionist to rewind the movie.

At least I got a free pass to come back and see another movie for free.


I am Very Easily Amused

I don't know why I find this so hilarious, but damn I find this hilarious. Really makes me want to play the game too, for some odd reason.


Creativity 101

What do you do when you pour hours into creating a song, only to realize it's a pretty disappointing, generic drum and bass track with a "hilarious" Borat sample? Make a video full of mindless T&A and get it passed around the internet!


I want to have kids just so I can get them to do stuff like this.

The guitarist? 10. The keyboard player? 8. The drummer. FREAKING FIVE.

I guess this is supposed to attest to the abilities of something called EarPower to teach kids music. I don't know. I'm just impressed with that five-year-old's rhythm and intimidated by the 10-year-old guitar-playing, German-speaking, violin-playing rock god.

But seriously. The drummer! 

Hopefully it doesn't come out later that their parents beat them mercilessly until they learned to play or something.

The Importance of Choosing a Font

Kat's at the point in her culinary school career where she's regularly making menus and things and sometimes seeks my advice for certain design ideas to fancy things up a bit (i.e. "How do I center a paragraph?"). This makes me feel helpful and knowledgeable and generally strokes my fragile male ego, because I can usually figure out MS Word despite the fact that we use it on a Mac and Microsoft took what was a serviceable word processor and turned it into the buggiest, most non-responsive piece of shit in computing history when it runs on an Apple machine (guess we should switch to a PC, HAR HAR HAR!).

Usually, Kat's questions revolve around fonts. Like the other night when she was obsessing, as she sometimes does because she is a super anal perfectionist about things, about the font for her menu. I was pretty confident that the menu would be graded more on the ingredients and recipes since it's culinary school, but it was important to her and she wanted tips. She also wanted me to talk her out of using Comic Sans, which I'm happy to say I did. We briefly discussed things like serifs, italicized type, and in the end she went with some perfectly-fine-but-generic-enough fonts and was pleased.

The point is I've had fonts on the brain for a few days. 

So this morning I was riding the bus in to work (OH GOD NOT ANOTHER BUS STORY) when I saw this: