Recently

I really want to knock the pictures of me from eleventh grade off my front page, but my life currently consists of random shit I am watching, unless you want to talk about my singing lessons, in which case I am struggling to maintain support in between crippling bouts of acid reflux. Seriously. How the fuck do I even get acid reflux? I have the blandest diet ever. I like turkey sandwiches on white bread, regular Miniwheats, and, when available, sheet cake. I ate an apple yesterday and started to regurgitate it. What the fuck? Between yesterday and a night in college that involved a bottle of Mango Absolut immediately followed by tequila shots, I can tell you vomiting an apple, completely or partially, is not right. The texture does not lend itself well.

I just Googled vomiting to look for a synonym, and apparently “fecal vomiting” is a thing. Where your intestines back up into your stomach and you puke out your mouth and/or nose. Good times.

So for shit I have been watching/listening to, it’s BB seaaasson. I’ve watched every season of Big Brother and I’m not stopping now. This season seems incredibly reactionary in nature. Pretty much everyone was a fucking racist asshole last year, and CBS seems like they sought to guard their legal defense fund by casting the incredibly tolerant. Seriously, it’s the season of platonic cuddling. Everyone is spooning, male, female, gay, straight. There is nothing that warms the cockles of my heart more than Caleb, the self-proclaimed “Beast-Mode Cowboy” an ex-military, pro-hunting, ripped-ass stereotypical straight white dude from the South, snuggling up to Frankie, the loud-and-proud, glitter-encrusted ex-Broadway star from New York. No awkwardness, no sense that it’s forced, just a couple friends full body contact chilling in a Hollywood backlot, shooting the shit about whether they’d choose classic BB punishment a week of “slop” or a chance to spend a couple hours of uninterrupted making out in a room “full of chicks and a dude for Frankie.”

To clarify, it’s not just Caleb & Frankie who have a cuddlemance, it is everyone. Frankie and Zach, the straight, golf-obsessed Floridian bro, who seems half-young Republican and half nerd who recovered after they got hot, have largely been the ‘relationship’ of the season. There’s been bed sharing and massages and romance movie full-lift spin hugs, all while these dudes are presumably romantically uninterested in each other. There’s also been Cody, the could-be Seventeen model with the blue eyes of a Siberian Husky, who’s been pressed against every girl in the house including Christine (married), Nicole (showmance with another houseguest), and Jocasta (a Pastor). Pretty impressive.

I’m also fucking obsessed with this new show on Animal Planet (stay with me) called The Supervet. It’s a documentary series about this hot ass Irish veterinarian, Noel Fitzpatrick, who runs a state-of-the-art practice in the English countryside. Each episode highlights the animals that come into Dr. Fitzpatrick’s office, which is presented as the sort of end-of-the-line, “miracle”-working practice for the worst possible cases. You get to know the animals and their owners, and watch Dr. Fitzpatrick and his staff as they attempt to find novel solutions to treat very serious injuries. This series is obviously not American, because there is way too much restraint, and it is executed far too carefully. Which is a blessing, because this show does not require heavy-handed editing or hysterical soundbites to drive you into an overwhelming case of the feels. Dr. Fitzpatrick seems like a very unique human being, and I’m not just saying that because I would totally bang him. He is a very interesting contrast between straight-forward, no-nonsense authoritativeness and incredible, incredible compassion. The first episode I saw, which featured a Thai street dog that had survived a machete attack, showed Dr. Fitzpatrick retiring to the tiny room with the tiny bed and the tiny rack of clothes he had carved out for himself in his office after a long night of surgery. I think anyone who loves animals, or just wants to witness how someone cope’s with the constant demand for innovation under crippling pressure should give an episode of this a chance. It’s not a fluffy cutesy show like a lot of what is on Animal Planet. It reminds me a lot of Boston Med, if anyone remembers that, or Emergency Vets if you also didn’t have friends in middle school

Also Loveline has been putting a bunch of their old shows up for free download. I’ve always lived on the East Coast and never in a city with a syndicate (except for the two seconds The Edge carried it before I moved) so I’ve been majorly binge-listening. The other day I listened to an episode where Mike Carano talked about hating Mrs. Doubtfire so much that he carried around his ticket stub for ten years, claiming that if he ever got the chance to meet Robin Williams he would demand his $8 back. Apparently one day he did meet Robin Williams in a hotel lobby, but Robin Williams was so nice he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Throwback: My Middle School Blog, 11/21/02

Thursday, November 21, 2002 10:39 PM EST

::yawn:: today has been somewhat eventful…. i got my wisom teeth pulled out. eeeee! it sucks. i hate dentists. and i felt all trippy afterwards. it was annoying as hell. i couldnt see straight. i went home and watched 10 thing i hate about you on my mini dvd player. i couldnt see the comp screen it was too far away. and im lazy. stiches in your mouth are annoying as hell. and i never want to drink anymore ginger ale… well maybe. but i have drank alot today. then like an hour ago the power went out… again. what is with my town? the power always dies. right in the middle of my trying to start an amazon.com wishlist. i want like 3 books. the history of warped tour, the blink-182 biohraphy, and go ask alice. a book about this girl that got her drink spiked with lsd. sounds creepy. i like dark books. i remind myself of witch baby from the last book i read, dangerous angels, she always reads about sad events and always thinks about them. thats what i do. sick and strange maybe but true. im such a freak. but oh well. i dont want to pose as something im not. and i like my freaky self. do you know whats a good song? one slowdance by rufio. download it and peace out. i wanna go watch er. 

Favourite Joke

via my cousin, around fourth grade:

Three women, a blonde, a brunette and a redhead rob a bank. As they are escaping from the police, they run into an alleyway and hide in a bunch of sacks, just before they are seen.

The blonde hides in a sack labelled “puppies.” As the police walk by, they kick the sack and the blonde says “woof! woof!”

The police keep walking.

The brunette hides in a sack labelled “kittens.” As the police walk by, they kick the sack and the brunette says “meow! meow!”

The police keep walking.

The redhead hides in a sack labelled “potatoes.” As the police walk by, they kick the sack and the redhead says “potato! potato!”

Unsolicited Rookie Film Review: Somm

 

Last night I watched Somm, which is a documentary that follows three sommeliers training for their Master Sommelier exam. Besides pounding Wild Vines in college, usually out of the bottle, but occasionally in a plastic cup stolen from the dining hall, I have zero experience (or interest) in wine. But the guys chronicled in this film are so sweet, and the exam so surprisingly grueling (out of 150 entrants in the documented year, 6 pass,) that the completely unrelatable becomes riveting. I always associated wine tasting with the pretentious and/or fannypack wearing tourists in Napa, but these dudes are young, seemingly normal (if you discount the whole sommelier thing) and surprisingly bangable. They seem like your college roommates, if your college roommates were now slaying flashcards to memorize the 3,000+ varieties of Old World grapes, or deducing the soil conditions and precise year of production from a single swish of Burgundy. Seriously, put this on, watch the first tasting (<10 minutes in,) and tell me you don’t want to shit your pants in awe.

Like life, if you want to make a sweeping-ass metaphor, Somm doesn’t turn out perfectly, but it does turn out contentedly. Or in more practical Netflix terms, this is a safe film to watch before you go to bed. It will have you on the edge of your seat (seriously, I was on the verge of tears) but it won’t have you cursing God for life’s injustice. Somm isn’t going to make me want to take up wine-drinking anytime soon, either casually or competitively. But it does make me want to make it rain on the sommelier at my next social function, and offer them a drink, because apparently they’re the ones who need it.

Somm is on Netflix Instant, iTunes, and YouTube