BrockLi Soup

I’m not very good with number association. When I was about nine, I decided that 27 would be my favorite number. It was another six or seven years before I realized that it’s (conveniently!) the date of my birthday, too. And I totally picked it by chance! Really!

And just now, I realized that the house I grew up in was number 42, which may only be significant to Douglas Adams fans, but the rest of you will hear about it in due time.

I have about 240 screen names in my AIM buddy list. Ya know how many of those people I actually talk to on a regular basis? Probably about a dozen, and that’s counting people I talk to for work. I’ve got a “Friends” group with 30 people in it, all of whom were friends over three years ago and probably haven’t been heard from since. There’s even a “Never Talk To” group (seven people).

Obviously, I don’t need all these people hanging about, but I can’t bring myself to delete them. What if I need to get in touch with them? What if I never manage to find their contact info ever again? What if I don’t recognize a third of the screen names in the list (whoops)?

I was going to clean it out and copy any deleted names into some kind of address book, just in case, but that never happened. Remind me to do that one of these days.

And if you’re in the Never Talk To group…well, maybe YOU should get in touch with ME! How bout them apples!

I think I need to be less friendly. Someone knocked on the door of the bathroom I was just in, and my immediate response was, “Come on in!”

It was on the way to my mouth when I realized, You can’t say that! They’ll come in! So I thought, Just keep yer trap shut.

And then I realized, You can’t do that! They’ll come in! But then I couldn’t remember what you were supposed to say when you were in the bathroom and didn’t want someone else coming in. And then I started to panic because, while I was sorting this all through, enough time had passed that they probably would have assumed it was unoccupied. And thinking about that kept me from remembering what I was supposed to say, which just made me panic more.

It was an awkward moment for me. In the end, I settled on “Taken!” and finished my business all by me onesies. Just in case it happens again, though, I’m going to start practicing being an asshole.

Things I liked about Grandma’s Boy:

• The cute girl from Freaks & Geeks. She’s cute.
• Nick Swardson. He’s a funny guy. His stand-up is hilarious, and I loved him in Blades of Glory.

Things I didn’t like about Grandma’s Boy:

• Everything else.

OK, maybe that’s not fair. A few lines made me laugh pretty hard, but on the whole, it was like a barely-entertaining sitcom that lasted almost two hours. If it were a series, I’d only watch it if it was on and I were too drunk to change the channel. Allen Covert sounds like Jon Stewart (and even looks like a slightly younger version of him), and he may be Adam Sandler’s buddy, but Jesus Christ is he an awful actor. It was sort of like watching a seventh-grade production of Fiddler on the Roof: the script ain’t half bad, but the performance wasn’t “acted” so much as “spoken word for word.” I probably would have liked it more if someone else played Alex (and I was baked out of my mind), but that’s neither here nor there.

I give it a D, because it may have been awful, but it was good for a few laughs.

Also, the scenes with all the tester geeks were hilarious.

Dear Black Donnellys,

I like you, I really do. We had some good times together, but…well, there’s someone else. Don’t get me wrong, I love the Irish-Sopranos idea, but there’s just something about a cross-dressing Englishman.

I’m leaving you for The Riches.

I know, I know, Izzard wears pants and a goatee, but still, can I deny my love? And Minnie Driver! And the chick that plays the daughter! How can I say no, Black Donnellys? Sure, I could watch you both, but who has that kind of time on Monday nights?

If it’s any consolation, I’ll be keeping an eye on the lovely Olivia Wilde. The episode where Jon Tucker takes off his shirt was a doozie, but he’s no Olivia.

I hope that things go well for you, Black Donnellys. Perhaps we can even share time together again someday, once these wounds have healed and you’re out on DVD. But for now, I feel it’s best that we part ways.

Goodbye, Black Donnellys.

Dear Jenna Fischer,

I thought I loved Pam Beasley, the shy girl with the cute smile, but then I saw Blades of Glory, and Katie Van Whatever was JUST LIKE Pam, so I think I love you. Wanna run away to California with me? Let me know.

Hearts, Brock

Autumn has always been my favorite season, but spring is a close second, especially when spring feels like this. I couldn’t ask for a nicer evening, unless I was really really greedy. It’s a perfect 78 degrees with 19% humidity here in lovely Arlington, VA, and I’m taking advantage of it while I can, because we all know that in a few short weeks, it’s going to be 88 degrees with 90% humidity.

But let’s not dwell on that. Right now, I’m sitting outside, enjoying a Flying Dog, and inexplicably, a bunch of maple tree whirlygigs just went spinning past my ninth-floor balcony. I can’t complain.

UPDATE: Wait, do maple trees have whirlygigs? We had a ton of them in my front yard when I was growing up, but now that I think about it, they may have come from the other tree.

At the beginning of every year, our collective check book is marred by the collective scribble through our collective habit of writing the previous year in the date. We’re three full months into the year, and by now, everyone has got into the habit of writing 2007…except for me. I just found that all the photos I’ve taken this year were happily filed away in my 2006 folder, and even tagged as such.

In other news, I’ve been keeping pretty busy. It’s been a nice weekend with lots of sleeping, a kite festival, and a BBQ, and I’ll be seeing Blades of Glory with the Sunday Night Film Club this evening. I can’t complain.