Nearly Drowning in a Horizontal Fashion

I went to the town pool with my daughter yesterday. She loves swimming, and free pool hours are definitely as high on her list of favorite activities as they are on my list of dreaded weekend activities to avoid at all costs. Growing up as a fat kid with chronic ear infections, it is really no wonder that I'm no fan of swimming. However, as long as I was there doing my parental duties, I decided to swim a couple of laps to get some exercise in.

I did a few dozen laps alternating between butterfly and backstroke with kickflip turns and even measured breaths, and by that I mean I did a lap and a half of semi-retarded freestyle with great gasping gulps of panic, fearing more for my life with each chaotic spasm of my willy-nilly limbs. (How do you do a half lap, you ask? Obviously you plan it out ahead of time so that you end up in the shallow end so you can walk the last half lap. I may be a bad swimmer but mama didn’t raise no dummy.)

As I clung gasping to the wall at the end of the last half lap, I wondered two things:

1) The body craves more oxygen during exercise to fuel working muscles, therefore heart and respiratory rate increase. As such, shortness of breath and an elevated heart rate typically indicates that exercise is being achieved. I exhibited these symptoms at the end of my swim, aka nearly drowning in a horizontal fashion. The big question is, however, does nearly drowning constitute exercise? Is there a fundamental difference? And if so, is there any way to incorporate the wii fit balance board?

2) If you look at people that run great distances for exercise, you begin to see similarities between them and other mammals that run. They get sleek and wiry like cheetahs or horses. Does this mean that as I swim I may start to resemble a whale? If fat helps me float, isn't my body likely to do whatever it takes to preserve my inherent flotation? My goal is to burn fat, but the self-preservation instinct would call for less drowning, and therefore the preservation of more flotation, aka fat. If regular swimming is likely to cause the preservation (or increase) of fat reserves, I may retire my Speedo for good (as 6.76 billion humans breathe a collective sigh of relief).

Smurf Porn

X-Men was a great comic book/superhero movie, but I really was disappointed by the lack of primary colored frontal male nudity. Superman was a great comic book/superhero movie, but again, no primary colored male genitals. Spiderman? Also great, but tragically devoid of oddly colored naked man-junk throughout the film.

Finally, at long last, someone finally captured the missing element from so many almost-great comic book superhero movies... that's right, sportsfans, I just watched almost three hours of bright blue naked giant man-bits swinging about on screen. This phenomenon was exaggerated by the fact that I saw it all on IMAX, so that the already impressive blue fruit basket was supersized.

It was superhero meets Smurf porn.
It was Blue Man Group meets the Full Monty.
It was a whole new take on the phrase "blue balls".
It was...Watchmen.

(In case you have wisely chosen to preserve an extra three hours of your life, one of the main characters in the movie is some sort of steroided hairless muscleman made out of blue energy that walks around buck naked the entire movie.)

The soundtrack, special effects, and CGI were amazing. The concepts were interesting. The storyline, however, was a bit confusing. I can only assume that someone dropped the screenplay on the way to the copier and got the scenes shuffled. I bet this movie starts a lot of nerd fights about whether super powers are required to be a superhero... most of these characters had cool outfits but no powers. Somehow all the powers got lumped onto one character...

Anyway, did I mention there was naked blue dong everywhere?

Caffeine Withdrawal

I stopped by the methadone clinic in Hartford yesterday afternoon openly seeking... but apparently they don't consider caffeine withdrawal to be a significant medical event worthy of pseudo-opiates. Tell that to the 14 inch railroad spike that enters my skull just above my left eye and exits just below the helmet lump.

helmet lump: hel mut luh mp, from the Polish Helmutsky Lumpowiescz; refers to the little nub on the back of the skull that allows helmets and hats to stay on properly. In SAT format, ass is to tool belt as nose is to glasses and helmet lump is to helmets.

I've decided to quit the diet soda in hopes of shifting my metabolism to help with some weight loss. The latest diet misconception that I'm operating on is that the chemicals and artificial sweeteners in diet soda cause the body to store fat and crave sweets and salts, and that this is the cause for my elevated BMI. Others have suggested that said phenomenon may in fact be related to my lack of exercise and the vast amounts of food I cram down my pie hole, but I assure you that they are sorely mistaken.

The Surly Russian Beer Wench

So I'm spending a night down in Mystic with my first wife for our ten year anniversary. We stop by "an authentic Irish pub" for a beer before dinner, where we are greeted not my a sweet Irish lass, not by Shamus McGuinnes, not by good Saint Patrick himself, but by a surly Russian beer wench. She begrudgingly took our beer order after rattling off the beers on tap in a thick Rusky accent. We asked if there were an appetizer menu, to which she replied "No appetizers; we serve corned beef and cabbage and bangers and mash", except that it sounded more like "vee serv cahrn beev und hash, und bangerz und mash", all in a very surly thick accent. She angrilly slammed our beers down and demanded $9, and then goose stepped away.

We drank our beers, left a tenner, and ran away.

NOTE TO ALL PUB OWNERS: I don't care if your bar is knee deep in leprachauns, shallayleighs, and four leaf clovers, your pub ain't Irish if you've got an angry Russian chick tending bar.

a book review

I used to say I had the bladder of a six year old girl. Being a thirty something Sasquatch-esqe behemoth of a dude, it was a funny line, right up until (a few years ago) I actually got acquainted with the real world bladder strength of my daughter, a typical six year old girl. As far as I could tell, that kid peed about 4 times a week on average. She'd make it through bath time, book time, a 12 hour night of sleep, and a few morning cartoons before casually sauntering towards the potty. I, on the other hand, typically make a bathroom run twice a night, and yet each morning I find myself sprinting Jesse Owens-style towards the bathroom in a full-out panic (meaning of course that I ran fast, not that I overcame massive racial oppression to become a true hero to millions of people around the globe, in case that analogy was at all unclear.)

I haven't yet come up with a better line to make light of my pint-sized bladder, and still find myself tempted to fall back on that comparison. Truth is I wish I had the bladder of my six year old girl... anyway, where was I? Oh, that's right, over there, on the couch, about to piss myself.

I've almost peed myself on many a long car ride, trying to make it one more exit.

I've almost peed myself at bars or parties when the bathroom is occupied and my bladder has about given up the good fight.

I've almost peed myself at concerts, unwilling to make the run during a good song. (Tragically enough, not all venues offer the convenience of the Meadows in Hartford. At this outdoor amphitheater, concert goers typically break through the wooden fence at the top of the hill, thereby creating a close and convenient potty alternative to trekking the mile or so through the venue to the actual bathrooms. I used these alternate accommodations one fine evening at an Allman Brothers show after many a beer. I ducked through the hole in the fence, walked down the fence line to the first available spot, and proceeded to drain the lizard. Mid-pee I glanced down at to my left where I noticed the couple in the grass, pants at their ankles, frantically humping like bunnies, not more than a foot from where I stood. Following the proper "dude pissing" etiquette, I nodded hello, mumbled "Howzit going?", and returned my gaze to the fence boards in front of me.)

Anyway, this evening, I almost peed myself while finishing up Kevin Smith's "My Boring Ass Life". His account of trying to get Jason Mewes off of heroin was so incredibly compelling that I came pretty damn near to staining the sofa. I just couldn't put the book down for the minute or so that my bio-break might require.

Long way to come for a book review, eh?

Certainly, I DO like amenities though

Now I know that not many people will be able to relate to this, but finances have become a bit tight in our household for the last few years. We had a roommate for a few months, a coworker friend from my old job, but the big layoff there forced him to move back home and embark on a new career. We've been without that extra income for a few months, and we're getting mighty sick of ramen and boloney sandwiches. Therefore, we've been searching for a new roommate; we've asked around, but no one we know is looking for a new place.

Like Gramma always said, if you've got a spare room, and grammar and spelling aren't high on your list of roommate requirements, you head to the Craigslist "housing wanted" section... I had no idea what sort of sketchy creepshow awaited me there. How sketchy, you ask? Well, I don't want to go throwing around numbers after just barely dusting off teh old Sketchometer, but let's just say that it is pretty well pegged at maximum sketchiness.

Here's one memorable post from a few weeks ago: (names and emails have not been changed... I'm all about protecting the innocent, but I have no such altruism towards the creepy and deranged.)

FIRST, AN UNEDITTED COPY FOR YOUR READING PLEASURE:

Hello, thanks for reading.

I am looking for a two-bedroom apartment or similar housing for rent, for two occupants, that can be considered a good value. This may include something with a lot of amenities, or not. Certainly, I DO like amenities though.
I am open toward most options available, and have few overall requirement. I WOULD like a bottom floor, and a second floor is great, too, as long as the bottom floor is present. I would however be open to hearing about something that doesn't have a bottom floor, if it presented fantastic value.

Other than that one need, I am open to suggestion. A nice location is desirable , as well as garages, overall space, and included utilities. Again, I am flexible and will choose something reasonably priced for the quality of apartment. I would rather have an above-average home that's averagely priced than a very cheap home.
That's about it! I have early mornings and afternoons free to check out a property if you have one "i just gotta see!"

Credit report and proof of income is available. Deposit should be no problem.
Feel free to contact my email, zombieknifa@gmail.com and expect a speedy response.
Thanks,
Kevin

AND NOW, A FEW COMMENTS:

Hello, thanks for reading.
I am looking for a two-bedroom apartment or similar housing for rent, for two occupants, that can be considered a good value. This may include something with a lot of amenities, or not. Certainly, I DO like amenities though. WELL CERTAINLY, OF COURSE. I MEAN REALLY, WHO DOESN'T LIKE AMENITIES?

I am open toward most options available, and have few overall requirement. I WOULD like a bottom floor, and a second floor is great, too, as long as the bottom floor is present. UPPER LEVELS WITHOUT LOWER LEVELS WILL BE CONSIDERED TO BE STRUCTURALLY UNSOUND AND ARE THEREFORE NOT CONSIDERED TO BE A GOOD VALUE. I would however be open to hearing about something that doesn't have a bottom floor, if it presented fantastic value AND INCLUDED STAIRS, AN ELEVATOR, A LADDER, OR SOME OTHER MEANS OF ACCESS. I SUPPOSE I COULD BRING MY OWN LADDER, BUT AGAIN, THAT WOULD LIKELY TO NOT BE CONSIDERED A GOOD VALUE. THIS REMINDS ME OF ANOTHER AD WHICH OFFERED A PRIVATE SECOND FLOOR BEDROOM, WITH PRIVATE BATH AVAILABLE IN THE BASEMENT.

Other than that one need WHICH ONE, AMENITIES? OR DO YOU MEAN THE SECOND FLOOR LOCATION WITH BOTTOM FLOOR PRESENT? , I am open to suggestion. HERE'S A SUGGESTION... GO FIND YOURSELF A NICE REFRIGERATOR BOX IN THE WOODS BEHIND THE 7-11. YOU ARE TOO FREAKY TO LIVE AMONG OTHER HUMANS. A nice location is desirable , as well as garages, overall space, and included utilities. Again, I am flexible and will choose something reasonably priced for the quality of apartment. I would rather have an above-average home that's averagely priced than a very cheap home.
That's about it! HE WROTE WITH GREAT ENTHUSIASM... I have early mornings and afternoons free to check out a property if you have one "i just gotta see!" ASSUMING OF COURSE THAT IT HAS BOTH AMENITIES, AND THAT ANY UPER LEVELS WOULD BE ATTACHED TO STRUCTURALLY SOUND LOWER LEVELS.

Credit report and proof of income is available. Deposit should be no problem. AS IN IT SHOULDN'T BE A PROBLEM, BUT IT PROBABLY WILL BE...
Feel free to contact my email, zombieknifa@gmail.com WHAT? ZOMBIEKNIFA? YOU KNIFE ZOMBIES? YOU PROBABLY SHOULD HAVE MENTIONED THAT BEFORE YOUR DISSERTATION ON THE REQUIRED ADJACENCY OF BILEVEL LIVING ARRANGEMENTS. MIGHT I ALSO EMAIL THE SECOND OCCUPANT DESCRIBED ABOVE, WHO I CAN ONLY ASSUME IS REACHABLE AT ZOMBIEKNIFAGIRL@GMAIL.COM... and expect a speedy response AFTER I CALL 911 IN TERROR AT THE THOUGHT OF YOU SHARING MY PLANET, LET ALONE MY HOME.
Thanks,
Kevin

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This goes without saying, but the Kevster and ZombieKnifaGirl move in next weekend.

FBI Profiling via Netflix Queue

If the FBI conducts threat profiling solely based on Netflix queues (and I'm guessing they might), I may be soon heading out on an all expenses paid trip to Guantanamo Bay.

More often than not, I end up sending all three of my movies in at once... Not that I watch all three in a sitting, but I tend to forget to send them in, thereby turning a membership-based service into my own personal economic stimulus package. (I provide similar stimulus to my gym as well.) Anyway, so a few days ago, I went to the mailbox and found the following three movies glaring at my from the dark depths of my spider-infested mailbox: Horton Hears a Hoo, SawV, and My Best Friend's Girl.

I'll provide full movie reviews soon, but for now, let me just say that the thought of having to watch "My Best Friend's Girl" again if far more terrifying than any of the torture scenes depicted in "SawV". On a related note, a whole crate full of this movie was just mailed to Guantanamo. Apparently forced viewings have been found to be 78% more effectove than waterboarding.

Wake up, take a shit, and check email

I just bought a book called "My Boring Ass Life" by Kevin Smith, brilliant director of movies like Clerks, Mallrats, Chasing Amy, Dogma, and most recently, Zack and Miri Make a Porno. It is essentially a daily diary of his life... It is very long, and very detailed, and pretty much every daily entry starts with the phrase "Wake up, take a shit, and check email." It then goes on to detail his life, and then every entry ends by saying what TV show he fell asleep watching. All in all it is prety mundane, yet for some reason, I'm unable to put it down... And if that sort of book is interesting to me, then maybe I do have something to say worth reading after all.

In other words, back by popular demand is my own little chunk of the vast void of socially redeeming content lovingly known as the Internets. That's right baby, the Sketchometer is back. So, to sum up my absence over the last many moons, well, I woke up, checked my email, did some stuff, changed jobs, suffered through a long cold winter without motorcycle therapy, watched TV, and fell asleep watching Iron Chef.