Sunday, December 31, 2006

BOWLING FOR NEW YEAR'S
My family and I are bowling this year for New Year's at the local bowling alley. My two bros used to bowl regularly a few years back and they've got their own shoes and balls, etc. so I'm in for it tonight. We'll be there from 9pm to 1am, at which time I believe the alley will be serving a continental breakfast (bowling for bagels).

I'm not sure if I can handle four hours of bowling -- I think I may drift off to the arcade to play air hockey with a brother or two, or even try my hand (feet) at DDR or the ubiquitous Time Crisis or Jurrasic Park shooters. I remember back in the day when I'd sneak off and play Street Fighter II' (the ' is actually important: it designates the "Hyper Fighting" version) and get my ass handed to me by all the dudes with their girlfriends watching, or one of those beat-em-ups like Captain America and the Avengers or X-Men.

I guess what I'm saying is that arcades in bowling alleys suck these days. I did manage to find a gem a couple years ago when my bros were at a bowling tournament in San Jose: A cabinet version of Zero Wing, which was the basis for the All Your Base phenomenon.

AND SO I'M BACK
We bowled for four straight hours, with minimal time for my brother and I to find some dude hogging the Time Crisis 3 machine. I managed to bowl consistently around my average score of 81 -- a typical Oslec "average sports stat" along with my lifetime 25% free throw shooting percentage.

Lots of families there tonight, which was interesting considering the bowling alley set up big projection screens to show music videos as we bowled. Too many little kids were into the music: "My humps" indeed, little 7-year old girl. My personal favorite was that Shaggy song about being caught red handed -- an important tool in explaining to your children that "banging" could entail having to explain yourself out of why you were banging someone you shouldn't be banging in the bathroom.

Though there were some neat older videos: the music video for "Fantastic Voyage" involved the band Lakeside turning into pirates. That video somehow reminded me of Whitney Houston's "I'm Your Baby Tonight" which, before Gap got a hold of it, did a more faithful job at reproducing Hepburn's dance scene from Funny Face.

And, the Niners won today, but their loss last week puts them at 7-9 for the season and out of the playoffs. If you recall awhile back, I promised to crap in my pants if they made it -- thankfully that event will not come to pass.*

*Though I've been dreaming about going to the bathroom, which does nothing for my self-confidence.

Saturday, December 30, 2006

Do Something

ASS KICKED?
It's moments like these that I doubt I can do this academic thing -- I can't write anything that advances my paper in a way that makes the whole thing make sense. I've somehow come back to the problem I had before: am I writing about the middle class or am I writing about democracy? Am I writing about both? What the fuck am I doing and do I have to reinvent the wheel to do it?

Of course, the blog is no place to vent with rhetorical questions. If I don't offer insight, my one to two readers will revolt, and we can't have that now, can we? Got me again.

NEW YEAR'S
I've got sorta plans for New Year's. Actually I've got options: (1) Elli might not be sick by Sunday and she'll be city/party hopping and I've been invited, and (2) my family will be astro-bowling (similar to your cosmic bowling or space bowling; it's like the Cold War of flourescent lighting and blue-collar sports). I haven't made up my mind yet, but it'll be (or should be) quite different from last year's New Year's with my cousins when I think I drank so much that I wanted everyone to be quiet and stop screaming.

IN OTHER NEWS
Two important events occurred these past couple days: Barry Zito signed with the Giants for $136 million dollars and Saddam Hussein was hanged for crimes against humanity. One can only hope that both will precipitate NL championships and a stable Iraq, but seriously, who are we kidding? I predict disappointment.

Monday, December 25, 2006

A Film's Quality

I sorta want to see "Children of Men"; seems pretty cool. "Pretty cool" only in that SFgate.com says it's good. Chronicle film reviewers tend to be pretty haphazard assessors of a film's quality, though I've agreed on a couple odd occasions (they and I liked "Resident Evil").

The best part about "Children of Men"?

Advisory: This movie contains profanity, violence, drug use, a few gory scenes
and Michael Caine doing the "pull my finger" joke.


Nice.

Saturday, December 23, 2006

Don't Just Swallow, Gargle First

IT'S GOOD FOR YOUR TEETH
Important news from MSNBC/Forbes: Sex is good for you, but in more ways that one. Take, for instance, this example:

Better teeth: Seminal plasma contains zinc, calcium and other minerals shown to
hinder tooth decay. Since this is a family web site, we will omit discussion of
the mineral delivery system. Suffice it to say that it could be a far richer,
more complex and more satisfying experience than squeezing a tube of Crest —
even Tartar Control Crest. Researchers have noted, parenthetically, that sexual
etiquette usually demands the brushing of one's teeth before and/or after
intimacy, which, by itself, would help promote better oral hygiene.


This isn't a family website, so I'll go ahead and explain this: giving head and getting jizz in your mouth is good for your teeth. That particular form of sodomy also apparently encourages you to brush your teeth anyway, so go ahead, get arrested in Georgia -- tell them it's to fight plaque. I'm amazed they didn't mention how cunnilingus is like flossing.

Pudding?

HOW DO YOU FEEL? HOW DO YOU FEEL?
Remember when in Star Trek IV, the emotionless, reborn Spock is taking a pretty complicated set of tests, since he lost his brain to McCoy in Star Trek III, and at the end of that scene, the computer asks him a question he can't answer: "How do you feel?" And it asks it over and over again, until Spock's mother informs him that the comptuer knows he's part-human, and as such, the question is a valid one.

I wish my computer would ask me how I felt after typing away like a slave to finish my prelim paper. Instead, I have my little brother asking me every three minutes if I'm finished and me trying to gently explain (well I've stopped both "trying" and "trying gently") that papers have funny deadlines in graduate school and that page length, for the most part, doesn't matter anymore. He responds to my evasion with a "so, then when are you going to be done?"

I wouldn't complain so much, except that there's nothing for me to do but finish the dang thing and all I can think about is how cold it is here in Pacifica, how my brother's bed shifts half a foot to the side when I get on it, and how I still haven't gotten over this damned post-tibial tendonitis crap. I've procrastinated too: I watched old Transformers episodes on YouTube and continued my attempt at reconciling my Catholicism with my absurdism.

Given all that though, I've written a lot. Once that stuff's done, I can surf the internet with nary a care in the world and get back in the gym.

RIP "THE BOSSLEC" (August 2004 - December 2006)
"The Bosslec" was the second of my post-high school AIM screen names, and arguably the one that I was destined to have. I think some combination of my increasing self-esteem (cockiness); the fact that I'd had the moniker Oslec The Bosslec for many, many years, but never appropriated it; and that multiple college friends had taken to calling me "The Bosslec" (or "Boss," not to be confused with Springsteen's "The Boss") that ultimately helped me take on "The Bosslec" as a screen name.

Way back in the AOL era and before away messages became chic, your cleverness could only be tested by your screen name. And for someone who hadn't exactly figured out how to talk to non-nerds in public, my screen name was like me going to the gym AND wearing a flattering t-shirt -- it'd get me some serious chat room time with the ladies (I was a notorious @-}----`-- giver). You can see that I'm still plagued by the same complexes, except that I actually do overcompensate by exercising now.*

In college I gave up on my chat room habit and occupied one online moniker for five years: "cmlmv2003," my initials and a reference to my graduation year. And cmlmv2003 was good. And in comparison to my high school days when I'd change screen names frequently (puberty), five years with one name was akin to me "finding myself," or at least committing to who I wanted to be: a simple man.

But I graduated from college and moved on to the grand adventure known to me as graduate school in the New Jersey of New England. More things changed: I was on my own, I got my heart slowly pecked out by crows, and got a new computer. In large part to set my "new self" off from my old one, I decided to change my screen name upon installing AIM for the first time on this comp. Gone were many of the incomplexities of old and in came a more acute attention to self-expression (read: looking good) that many other people went through when they were 17, with a begrudging sympathy for the trendy.

So "The Bosslec" was born and it was good. It was aesthetically-pleasing: no numbers, no fucked up capitalization, and it made intuitive sense to everyone who knew me. And, if you didn't know me, I think it said a lot about me. Well, I mean, it said I like to half-mock myself and that I had a silly-ass first name anyway, but still. "The Bosslec" was sorta sexy, the nerd's coming of age, his overtly less timid self regularizing. I think at that point in my life (which, if you've lost count, was only two years ago) I started telling people I was "the Bosslec" in real life as well -- a pretty lengthy advance considering that in fourth and fifth grade I was telling people to call me "Ninja Nerd." Of course, "The Bosslec" could have just been my "Thrillhouse."

But AIM decided to be a dick and fuck up my Buddy List, by not uploading it and then not allowing me to edit an older saved version. Nothing I could do could save "The Bosslec" so it was time to move on. I grieved a little. I'm grieving now.

But now we have to welcome my new name into the world: "Teh Bosslec." "Teh" if you don't know, is a purposeful misspelling of "the" used in l33t. I'm certainly not claiming to be l33t, but I liked how it took off just a little bit from "The Bosslec," making it pretty obvious I'm not a stiffy.

So let it be known throughout the land: "Teh Bosslec" is here, and he's not a stiffy.

* Which is all for naught since I still maintain some sense of modesty and don't like showing off my "guns" or my "buns" or whatever it is people show off. I guess I'm of the belief that if they get me naked, I've got 'em snared good. Call it my Sun Tzu theory of hooking up: overwhelm them when they least expect it. "Them" of course meaning "chicks." I think this paragraph encapsulates everything that's wrong with me ever.

Wednesday, December 06, 2006

Korean Pop and Sleep

BLACK CAT?
Two things have been absorbing most of my time lately, and by "most," I mean "all": mid-90s Korean pop and sleep. I forget how I came to arrive at the Korean group (duo) Turbo on YouTube, but their straight outta the 90s dance moves tripped the Oslec "I must learn their dance moves" wire in my brain. And really, it's not because of the group Turbo itself that I want to learn their dance moves, or even their music, but from this un-wikipediable variety show called "X-man" where one of the regulars makes fun of a former Turbo member by mimicking his dance moves (I'd embed it, but I haven't defeated HTML Man and absorbed his Code Blaster).

Secondly, I've been routinely sleeping for more than eight hours lately. The simple solution would be to set an alarm. Oh, well I guess that ends that insightful blog entry.