So I was cleaning this weekend, and I got all my magazines sorted into stacks. And even though I’ve been plowing through them at the gym, the stacks were still huge.

Just today, I finished August’s Sports Illustrateds…August of 2005. I’m a year behind in Entertainment Weekly, a year and two months in Newsweek.

I did the math, and when I get to a point that I am a year behind in all three, it will take me four and a half months (assuming I go at my current rate of 3 per gym visit 3x weekly) to get through that year. And then I’ll still be four and a half months behind!

And you know what I did last year? Renewed all three magazines.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I think I set a new world record for clumsiness this afternoon.

I was out doing some errands for the production company’s office (I officially work for one of the production companies that produces the show, and they have an office off-lot), and I managed the most fractious display of my clumsiness ever.

First, I was at Ralph’s stocking up on drinks, and as a guy cut me off with his cart, I crashed my cart into a display, which in turn crashed into a big stack of jars of Gefilte fish, which in turn crashed to the ground.

I managed to get out of Ralph’s without breaking anything else, and went over to Staples to stock up on various office supplies. I thought I was safe, because there’s not much glass at Staples.

Except for the two-pack of big-ass fluorescent light bulbs that crashed to the ground when I was trying to get out a wedged-in box of extra large trash bags. That was a pretty spectacular sound, too.

I’m staying away from anything made of glass for the rest of the weekend.

I have a busy enough weekend planned. I’m going to the tax accountant. I’m having an Oscar party. I’m going to attempt to wall-mount my TV (though if that fails spectacularly enough, I will not be having an Oscar party).

So, with all that on my plate, you’d think I wouldn’t be stupid enough to decide that this is the weekend to buy an expensive new router, attach my hard drive to it, and try and get the ports forwarded in a way that doesn’t expose all my data to the interwebs.

Apparently, you’d be wrong. I am exactly that stupid.

When I was looking for an apartment, I was super-excited when I found mine. The main thing it was missing was a hookup for the icemaker in my fridge.

This is a ridiculous convenience, but one I’d gotten very, very used to. The ability to have a giant pile of ice just sitting there, awaiting my next drink? Quality.

I asked, if I get the kit for it to be installed, could you guys install it? “Sure, no problem!” was the answer I received from the building manager and her bosses at the leasing company.

As the weeks went by and the leaves…well, here in SoCal, they don’t fall. They just turn sort of a dark green color and look tired.

Anyway, a considerable amount of time passed, and after an enormous amount of hectoring from both the building manager (who’s been a fucking saint about all this) and myself, guys finally came and hooked up my icemaker earlier this week.

I’m so very excited. Just in time for my Oscar party, too. Martinis for all!

Elisa and Ray are having a sequel, and I congratulate them and wish them much success with Laird Baby 2: The Lairdening.

Wow, I’ve lived in L.A. for too long.

They ask the tough questions, and they use entirely non-suggestive illustrations:

I don’t know how many of you have been following the story of John Amaechi, the first former NBA player to officially come out.

However, if you have, you will thoroughly enjoy the Onion’s merciless take on the story:

John Amaechi Comes Out As Former NBA Player

STOCKPORT, ENGLAND—British homosexual John Amaechi sent shockwaves throughout the sporting world last week when he announced, much to the surprise of his family and friends—in addition to NBA players and fans—that he lived a…

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Apparently, someone is almost as big a fan of hilariously awful made-for-TV movies as I am: A double-feature of 10.5 and Category 6: Day of Destruction is now available on DVD.

And as you’ll note at the bottom, you can buy that DVD and the DVD of 10.5: Apocalypse for under $25.

That may be, dollar for dollar, the best entertainment value you will see all year.

Thanks to Dave for the heads -up.

As you may have noticed, blogging has died down a bit recently. It’s not because I have nothing to say, it’s just because I have nothing interesting to say.

The weeks are all the same: Mr. Cranky Ankle gets better, then gets worse. I go to work. I come home. I watch television on my Gigantic Damn TV. I get cranky about doing PT at 7am because it means I have to get up at 6. Lather, rinse, repeat.

On the weekends, I watch more television and movies because Mr. Cranky Ankle seems to have something against me leaving the house and participating in life, because every time I try, I end up taking several painful steps backwards in my efforts towards recovery.

I could bore you all to tears with repeated dissections of my various recurring activities, or possibly a diatribe or two about my near-constant lack of sleep because of either the ankle, the cat, or some combination of the two (like when Chaplin slept on my bad ankle and I didn’t wake up until he’d clearly been there for a couple hours).

Instead, I’ll simply post this one whining rant, and you can reload it over and over again, and it’ll be just like having me there.

Technology. Ain’t it grand?

Turner Classic Movies is doing their 31 Days of Oscar marathon, an event that generally causes me to fill up my TiVo and have to work through the backlog for several months.

However, I did watch 30 Seconds over Tokyo today. It’s a fantastic movie about Doolittle’s raids on Tokyo in early 1942, but it gave me an unexpected laugh at one point.

The bombers, after refueling, were supposed to go to Chunking, where everything was extremely expensive. So one of the pilots gets the bright idea on the boat to stock up on cigarettes to sell to the military men in Chunking.

Pilot: I’ll have 12 cartons of cigarettes.
Cashier: That’ll be…$7.40.

I had a good, long laugh about that one.