Have you ever been completely mislead by a movie trailer?
The trailer makes the plot look clear, interesting and it has some very good actors in it. So you make the purchase and settle in. Afterwards you feel like that time was hijacked and you have that terrible knowledge that you’re out 5 bucks and 2 hours of your life.
That, my friends, is the movie “The Tree of Life.”
If you watch the trailer you’ll think it’s about a boy growing up in the 1950s in Texas. It’s not. Well random, fleeting parts of it are but without any plot and therefore no plot resolution. And when you’re expecting it to be about a Texas family in the 50s and a random Discovery Channel Planet Earth section cuts in with DINOSAURS you’re wondering if you accidentally sat on the remote. What the ?? If you’re like me, you’ll be a poor sap that clings to ever smaller shreds of hope that something will make the movie make sense.
I’m sure there are the few masochistic people who like this movie. However, here are the things I would rather be doing than watch this movie again.
Stare directly at the sun for a full minute.
Listen to a four hour lecture on the belly button.
Follow Carrot Top on a world tour.
Drive across the U.S. in a Smart Car with 2 other people.
Watch all 12 Land Before Time movies without a bathroom break.
Things I would rather do that watch “The Tree of Life” again November 15, 2011
Have you ever been completely mislead by a movie trailer?
To Mr. Bill Gates,
I’m really feeling the financial pinch right now as most are (about 99% to be exact). From what I see in the news, it sure seems like you have plenty of money. I would like you to send me a check to cover my holiday expenses this season. I’d also appreciate it if you would pay off my student loans and my house. I don’t plan to pay you back, or purchase any of your products for that matter. I just know you can afford it. I think it’s your responsibility to help.
Thank you for a quick response in the form of a check.
One of the 99%
More evidence that people are weird September 12, 2011
The dashboard of my blog tells me what search terms people entered and then ended up on my blog. Let me tell you, there are some weird ones. These are some of my favorite that have popped up on the report:
“The world’s smallest butt”
(They didn’t find what they were looking for on my blog)
(if they exist, I’m sure they’re in Wyoming)
“Snow raccoons chasing skiers”
(sounds like those rowdy cowboy raccoons to me)
“John Denver’s wedding”
(wasn’t there, sorry, he didn’t invite me…actually I don’t think I was even born yet)
“Knee biting photos”
(of all the pictures, I don’t think I have one of those)
“Garfield’s pet force”
(I have no idea what they were actually looking for and how Google thought my blog was relevant)
Mining for Gold July 12, 2011
Confession: when I was little, I was quite the nose picker.
My poor mother.
She had my little brother stealing her dish towels to use as blankeys while he sucked his fingers. And she had a daughter who was always knuckle deep in her nose.
I remember adults chuckling all the time and asking if I was mining for gold. I didn’t really get it. It seemed perfectly logical to me that if there are bats in the cave you should get them out.
When I was around 1st grade, my Mom put me in a fashion show at the Holiday Inn. I vaguely remember changing clothes very fast while being briefed on what to do on the runway. But I clearly remember my Mom saying, “don’t pick your nose.”
So what did I do? I was all the way to the end of the runway before I realized what all the old ladies in the audience were laughing about. Oops. I forgot the main rule.
With “mining” being a fascination from an early age, some friends and I went to Ouray this weekend to take a genuine gold mine tour.
The Bachelor-Syracuse Mine
With my hands safely inside the cart and out of my nose, we rode deep into Gold Hill.
Before the tour began, a very nice lady sitting behind me “apologized in advance” for her toddler. Well she foreshadowed the coming experience perfectly. As soon as we arrived at the cavern where the guide would be giving his schpeel, the toddler got antsy…then whiney…then extremely unhappy. A downright PO’d toddler when you’re deep inside a MOUNTAIN is the perfect recipe for the biggest headache your frontal lobe has ever experienced. It should be the proving ground for Advil and Tylenol. Forget “9 out of 10 doctors approve.” Their new tagline could be “tough enough to cure The Screaming-Child-a-Half mile-Under-the-Earth-With-No-Way-Out headache.”
This is the cavern. You can see a horizontal band of silver in the back wall.
One of my favorite moments on the tour: The guide was a real champ. He pretended that there was nothing out of the ordinary and yelled the mine’s history over the screaming and crying. Just as he explained that the piece of equipment next to him cranked out 120 decibels…almost as if on cue…the toddler let out an ear piercing screech that caused everyone to involuntarily wince and pull their hard hats over their ears. I guess we deserved a good 120 decibel demonstration.
Moral of the story: don’t bring a toddler into a mine. You’ll waste your $17 tour fee…and everyone else’s.
Also…these old mines are awesome. Take a tour if you have a chance, it’s good to be interested in history. And who knows, maybe all that mining I did as a child led the way to a healthy interest. Ok, it’s a stretch.
What’s a Turdish Doodle Hound? May 24, 2011
I don’t have any pets. Growing up we had great animals. There was Domino the cat who was my buddy and lived to be 20 years old. We had Claude (named after Jean Claude Killy, the ski racer), who was a hiking, biking, and garbage loving toy poodle. And most recently, the little Bonnie cat who disappeared to an unknown fate last time I was in Sheridan.
With my job keeping me away from the house for 12 hours each day, it’s really not practical for me to own a dog and my roommate is allergic to cats. So I settle just fine with my Rent-a-Pet.
Whenever I go hiking or biking, I take my trusty Rent-a-Pet. At just the cost of water, and perhaps having to clean my car more frequently, I get a very large and very goofy trail dog. Whether or not Carrie is joining me or the gang on an outing, the dog comes along. All it takes is leaving a simple note or text that reads, “I have your dog.” Hmmm…that sounds a little creepy actually.
When on the trail with the Rent-a-Pet, the consistent question from passers-by is, “What kind of dog is that?” Or simply, “What is that?” If I had a dollar for every time that question was asked, it could probably provide the gas money for all these trips. Carrie and I once counted the question being asked over 12 times while hiking up Greys Peak.
Answer: Golden Doodle
Her name is Trudy. She is also referred to as Doodle and Turder but her full distinguished name is Trudith B. Doodletin.
Leah (another friend who borrows Trudy for adventures) and I have decided to begin telling people that she is a Turdish Doodle Hound. What is that you say? Well…
Turdish Doodle Hounds hail from the Isle of Turd. This little-known nation breeds Doodle Hounds exclusively. Their purpose?
Turdish Doodle Hounds are made to seek and chase almost anything. Whether that be a bike, a skier or a lizard.
Unfortunately they’ll also chase things underground. The biggest issue is their love for fecal matter. They even have the ability to track this undesirable material subterranean.
Turdish Doodle Hounds have a tendency to think they are lap dogs.
Comfort is very important to these dogs. Once they select their “snuggle spot” they can be found snoozing there regularly, despite it being against the rules. For example, my reading chair.
If you’d like to know more about this special breed, let me know….or ask me on the trail.
Marathon Meetings March 24, 2011
Meetings, meetings, meetings.
That’s life in the business world. We talk, discuss, debate….and if you’re my team, chase rabbit trails. Actually I don’t mind meetings much. My team is usually very productive…we just take the scenic route when making decisions. When a shiny object presents itself, one or more of us will usually get distracted.
Yesterday we had a 4 hour meeting.
When you’ve been waist-deep in data, graphs, plans and budgets it’s easy to dream of a job where you just show up, punch the clock, work, then go home. I worked at a coal mine in Montana one summer. We used to take naps on the conveyor belts of the coal plant. Ahhhh the life.
But black boogers vs. powder days….that’s right, I DO love my job!