Do You Think This Is A Game?

23 05 2008

1. Pick 20 of your favourite movies.
2. Go to IMDb and find a quote from each movie.
3. Post them here for everyone to guess.
4. Fill in the film title once it’s guessed.
5. NO GOOGLING/using IMDb search functions

1) “Generally you don’t see that kind of behavior in a major appliance.”

2) “Garbage chute. Really wonderful idea. What an incredible smell you’ve discovered!”

3) “They’re saying, “Jack, go to the liquor store and findeth the Jack of Daniels so that ye may be shitfaced!”

4) “I had two heart attacks, an abortion, did crack… while I was pregnant. Other than that, I’m fine.”

5) “Do not concentrate on the finger or you will miss all that heavenly glory.”

6) “You wear too much eye makeup. My sister wears too much. People think she’s a whore.”

7) “Why, you stuck up, half-witted, scruffy-looking nerf-herder.”

8) “Telephone call? Telephone call? That’s communication with the outside world. Doctor’s *discretion*. Nuh-uh. Look, hey – all of these nuts could just make phone calls, they could spread insanity, oozing through telephone cables, oozing into the ears of all these poor sane people, infecting them. Wackos everywhere, plague of madness.”

9) “What was that honey? It was BAD! It had no fire, no energy, no nothing! So tomorrow from 5 to 7 will you PLEASE act like you have more than a two word vocabulary. It must be green.”

10) “You tell him, and I will smack you. I will smack you like a bad, bad donkey, okay!”

11) “Yes, I did it, I killed Yvette. I hated her, so much… That… it… it… flam – flames. Flames, on the side of my face, heaving… breath – , heaving breaths. Heaving breath…”

12) “Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something.”

13) “Okay, I get the picture White Tigers, Lords of Death, guys in funny suits throwing plastic explosives while poison arrows fall from the sky and the pillars of heaven shake, huh? Sure, okay, I see Charlie Chan, Fu Manchu and a hundred howlin’ monkey temples, and that’s just for starters, right? Fine! I’m back! I’m ready, goddammit let me at ’em!”

14) “You know the great thing, though, is that change can be so constant you don’t even feel the difference until there is one. It can be so slow that you don’t even notice that your life is better or worse, until it is. Or it can just blow you away, make you something different in an instant. It happened to me.”

15) “In a way, each of us has an El Guapo to face. For some, shyness might be their El Guapo. For others, a lack of education might be their El Guapo. For us, El Guapo is a big, dangerous man who wants to kill us. But as sure as my name is Lucky Day, the people of Santa Poco can conquer their own personal El Guapo, who also happens to be the actual El Guapo!”

16) “Will you marry me? Did he leave you any money? Answer the second question first.”

17) “You fuckers think just because a guy reads comics he can’t start some shit?”

18) “I tried to stand up and fly straight, but it wasn’t easy with that sumbitch Reagan in the White House. I dunno. They say he’s a decent man, so maybe his advisors are confused.”

19) “I’m very sorry for your loss. Your mother was a terribly attractive woman.”

20) “No, if anyone orders Merlot, I’m leaving. I am NOT drinking any fucking Merlot!”

Have at it.  As the Japanese say, “Ganbare!”





On Humanity

26 01 2008

“But we were born of risen apes, not fallen angels, and the apes were armed killers besides. And so what shall we wonder at? Our murders and massacres and missiles, and our irreconcilable regiments? Or our treaties whatever they may be worth; our symphonies however seldom they may be played; our peaceful acres, however frequently they may be converted into battlefields; our dreams however rarely they may be accomplished. The miracle of man is not how far he has sunk but how magnificently he has risen. We are known among the stars by our poems, not our corpses.”

Robert Ardrey





The Wild World of Laundry

3 06 2007

Frequently when I got to switch the laundry over from the washer to dryer, I’m astonished to see what has happened in the machine. Things become twisted, knotted, interwoven. I’ve found the agitator wearing my shirts as if it were ready for a night out on the town. Once, I even found a pair of my pants wearing a pair of my wife’s underwear, how extraordinary is that? The biggest culprit is my wife’s bras. They twist up like a tornado, they penetrate and bind the laundry like The Force, the straps tie themselves up into intricate sailors knots. I don’t know how they do what they do.

I can imagine a Pixar film about the secret life of laundry. The washer lid closes and the clothing all comes alive. The water fills and they are able to move and dance and caress each other in the swirling soapy vortex. Maybe they get loopy off the laundry detergent. I can imagine how under the influence of Purex the Bras (oh those bras) become Sadomasochistic villains. They would have a deep, husky Cruella DeVille voice and whip the laundry into submission. They would use their long reach to tie up the shirts in dominatrix fashion.   Meanwhile, it’s a disco throughout the rest of the washer–a drug-induced orgy of fabric delights (…not very Pixar, I guess).  Maybe, just maybe, though, not everyone is into the party and threatening to ruin it for everyone else. The socks.  The socks are quiet and timid, just-say-no-drug-free-puritans and some of them want to blow the whistle or maybe just get out alive.  This is why socks disappear.  They find their opportunity and fall between washers or cling to the back or shirts and look for a chance to drop to safety.  Or maybe the bras have gotten word of their dastardly plan to break silence and inform us of the cotton debauchery going on behind their backs and make the socks quietly “go away”.

Maybe, maybe this all happens.  Or maybe the twisting back and forth action of the agitator just gets everything kind of twisted up.  That could be it, but I’d like to think that laundry time is disco time.





You wouldn’t steal a car, would you?

7 03 2007

A-freakin’-men.





Raw Revalation

21 02 2007

When I was kid, Sometimes my family would get fresh, un-homogenized milk straight from the farm. It’s a fond memory for me since I’m quite a lover of dairy. I’ve been looking for that same experience here in my bucolic burgh. I’ve asked around, but sadly, no-one seemed to know anyplace this could be done.

Today at work, I was helping our price check coordinator research whether a certain milk was UHT or not. It got me talking about fresh farm milk and about Raw Milk which I’ve read about on several food blogs. Once I was done helping Julie I thought I would do a search to see if there were anywhere I could buy Raw Milk. First I googled “raw milk western ny” but it occurred to me that milk isn’t something you’d want to take on a long drive so I thought I’d narrow my search. Next I googled “raw milk hornell”, Hornell being the largest local town. I got a hit for a local oxygen bar that served raw milk. Once I got over the shock that a redneck wonderland like Hornell had an oxygen bar I was able to find out they got their Raw Milk from an Organic Dairy Farm right in Alfred, NY. The very town in which I live! It was under my freakin’ nose this whole time!

The Dairy farm has a website, so I was able to find out a couple of helpful details.  Things like, where the farm was, how much the milk would cost, and a phone number because the map they provided wasn’t very good.  I was also able to find their hours, only 2-5 on Tuesdays and Fridays.  I couldn’t just drop by anytime, today was the day and I was going to have to leave work a little early.  I called to confirm the location and set out to get my milk.

I was able to find the farm without any difficulty, but once I got there it was on both sides of the street and I wasn’t sure exactly where to go next.  Fortunately for me, the farmer was walking up the driveway (perhaps because he noticed my slow, uncertain driving) and he directed me to where I needed to go.  He introduced himself and seemed to recognize me from the phone call.  He walked me to the counter as he talked proudly of his operation and the quality of his product.  He told me what he was legally required to about raw milk and had me sign a waiver.  This is standard practice necessitated by New York State law.  He sold me a half gallon Ball Jar (who knew they came so large) and led me across the road to the milking barn.  He asked if I would like to see the operation, which I was quite happy to.  At the entrance was the large milk holding tank and past that the entrance to the barn.  There were a few cows in there, mostly lazing about since it wasn’t milking time.  The cows are grass fed and pasture freely and only have to come in for milking.  Most of the cows were outside eating grass through the snow.  He led me back to the milk tank past three cats sleepy quietly in a pile of hay.  He grabbed my shiny new ball jar and filled it right in front of me (also required by law).

He told me that Sunny Cove Farm was a closed system.  They breed and raise their own cows, the pasture them in their own fields which are fertlized with their own manure.  He showed me an award he had won for quality and described the store front he was building and where he intended to put the facade (which he pronounced with a hard C like Nicollette Sheridan in Noises Off).  He pointed out where he intends to build a sugaring house (the farm does organic maple products, organic meat and organic apples in addition to the milk).

This, I thought, is how it is supposed to be.  How often do we get to talk with the people who make our food?  To see where our food is coming from?  It’s good to see the pride someone takes in their product.  It’s good to see that the animals are being well-treated.  It’s good to see cute kittens sleeping in a barn.  I hope I can find more places like this where I can buy locally grown food.

Now, to the milk itself.  Raw milk, in case you didn’t know, means that it hasn’t been homogenized or pasteurized.  I suppose they use the term “raw” since pasteurization requires heating the milk, which alters its flavor.  And since it isn’t homogenized, the cream will settle on the top.  I poured myself a tall, satisfying glass of cold milk.  The conclusion? Best milk ever, and not shipped from some crappy factory farm.  Even if it were only as good as the regular milk I buy from the store, it would still be worth it.  But the milk is better–richer, creamier, tastier than any milk I’ve had before.  I guess, like Old Dirty Bastard, I like it raw.





Wait, Beer Cheese Tastes Like Beer?

21 02 2007

I admit, I bought this cheese because it looked so funky. It looks like tortoiseshell cheese, or something. I threw out the label and I can’t remember the name of this cheese. Something something Porter. Porter referring to the beer which is what I suspect the dark marbling is from. It was a bit on the pricey side, this small chunk was about $3.50 (It’s a pretty small chunk).

So, how did it taste? Hmm, I know this might sound a bit…asinine, but it would’ve been much better if it didn’t taste so much like beer. Yes, I know I bought a cheese made with beer. Still. The curds themselves were fairly mild with just a bit of sharpness/muskiness to it. Above, behind and around that flavor, though, was the bitterness of the beer.

I don’t regret buying it, but I probably wouldn’t buy it again. I just don’t care for the flavor of beer. I could recommend this cheese to anyone who does.

[Edit:  I checked back on this one.  It’s called Cahill’s Porter Cheese and (at Hornell Wegmans at least) costs $14.99/lb.  This is the same price, incidentally, as Parmigiano Reggiano, a far superior cheese.]





Aneurysm Averted

16 02 2007

A long time ago I had a memory, a vague memory. It was just an impression. It was a fleeting remembrance of a book I had as a child. Sometimes I have memories that I’m not entirely sure are real. Did I really stuff a mailbox full of mud-filled paper? (Turns out I did.) Did I really once see a car full of bees? (Still unconfirmed.) But this book, I knew it was real, I just couldn’t recall all the details. That flash of memory started off innocently enough. It was a curiosity. I thought I’d just hop online, enter some relevant details into Google and find out what that book was. But after awhile on Google, I go no answers and a bitch of a finger cramp from clicking too much. Thing about me is, I can’t let things drop. Well, sometimes I can, but the more elusive something is, the more I need to figure it out. Since I didn’t get a single lead for all my effort, a curiosity was about to become something of an obsession. I went to Amazon and did a search. Nothing. The logical response to this of course was for me to browse through EVERY SINGLE CHILDREN’S BOOK ON AMAZON! Whew, that took awhile! But all I got were finger cramps and bleary eyes.

After that I could be frequently found plugging some search terms into Google as I remembered details. I shot off some e-mails to friends and family asking for their assistance. Everyone was willing to help, but had no answers for me.

One night not too long after I wound up in a very large Barnes and Noble in Rochester. I went to the children’s section and started to browse through all of their books. I guess I stood out in the children’s section and a friendly employee came over to help. I described the book and we went over to their computer and did search after search. She asked every other employee of the department. They all started to help me look. Nothing was resolved by the time I had to leave, but I was VERY impressed with the level of customer service I received.

That was the end of the obsessive phase as I realized there was little else I could really do until I remember something more substantial. The question of that book continued to swirl around my brain and occasionally find its way back to the surface. I simply had to suppress the overwhelming desire to find the answer since it seemed unlikely I’d get one.

I think this is where aneurysms come from. It’s these sort of nagging things that tangle the wires in the background of your brain until the whole mechanism just pops. That’s was this book was going to do to me. It brought joy to me as a child, and possible death as an adult.

Maybe this next bit seems irrelevant, but I love the Magazine Mental Floss. When I discovered they had a blog I just had to subscribe to it.

This turns out to have been a fortuitous decision. Today, they had a blog post about a new free website that answers questions about half-remembered books. I immediately thought of that book and clicked over to the webpage. Not more than an hour or two later an answer had been posted. It was either “Monkey Face” by Frank Asch or the similarly plotted “Bread and Honey” by the same author. Hmm. Monkey Face did sound familiar. I needed a picture, the illustrations were my clearest memories of the book.

No problem, just enter it into google…

And clicking on every hit on seven pages of google I finally found my picture. And Lo, it was my book!

Thank freakin’ goodness. What an exquisite mental release. I’m so glad I found my answer.