Fuckity

I swear. A lot. This is not news to anyone who has read this blog, ever. But in professional settings, it's pretty much not cool.

So I really have to keep an eye on my cursing at work, and I've been doing pretty well with it so far, reducing my cursing level by at least 90% when I'm there.

Problem being, all the curse words build up throughout the day, and the ones I don't get rid of in traffic ("Hey DICKWEED! Try fucking using your fucking goddamn turn signal, you SHITHEAD!") still need to get out.

Shouting curse words at the wall will probably lead my neighbors to a) call the cops b) have me committed or c) both, so that option's not so good.

So now as soon as I leave work, whether in written or oral conversation, I tend to speak in a manner such as:

"Aw, fuck. I can't fucking believe those fucking fucks fucked up again. Shit. Goddamn idiots. They couldn't tell their ass from a hole in the ground with a motherfucking pair of binoculars. Buncha fucknuts..."

...and so forth. I'm just waiting for someone to threaten to wash my mouth out with soap.

And I'd tell them, "Frankly, madam, I prefer the fucking toothpaste."

Tee Vee

There's something profoundly weird about watching the product of your entire day's work (and in most cases at the show, significantly more work) go over the TV airwaves.

I realized that there's a big difference between working on a TV show, and realizing you're working on a TV show when you actually see the finished product on the air.

Example: I've been working for a few days with the girls that were brought in for our "Let's Pimp Out Our P.A.!" Dating Game-type segment (more tactfully called "Jeff's Search For Love" on the show).

It's actually been quite fun, the girls have all been extremely nice and pretty chill about everything, which has obviously made my life and those of the segment producers much easier.

But despite the fact that I work with all these people and know that they go out to the stage and I have to run around trying to wrangle things and I've watched the video feed of the taping, somehow, it doesn't seem like it really happens.

That is, until I watch the stuff I tape onto TiVo of each afternoon's broadcast. Somehow, when commercials are inserted, it all seems a lot more real, and you realize that millions of people have just watched what you, in some small way, helped create.

It's very surrealistic, especially because the show airs a day after we tape it, so it's like watching some weird replay of two days ago by the time I finally watch it.

I'm sure after a couple more weeks, I'll laugh that this has given me something of an existential dilemma. Until then, however, I'm still gonna be pondering the oddity of it all.

Fun With Flash

Proof you don't have to have artistic talent to be amusing:

Europe Vs. Italy

The End Of The World

edited to add: Oops! Forgot to credit Other Ellen with introducing me to these. A thousand apologies.

Rhetorical Question

Does something called The Sunday Night Sex Show really need an explicit dialogue warning, or shouldn't its title be sufficient?

Little Help?

Any tech nerds out there able to tell me why Fark has been loading the same homepage for the last 3 days in my IE browser, but loads fine (or as fine as anything will) in Netscape?

No other website seems to have this problem on my computer, and the site loaded fine when I was using IE at work today.

I mean seriously, what the fucking fuck?

My Hope For The Future

Someday, I hope that I will be able to prevent myself from watching movies/TV shows with actresses I think are hot, no matter how shitty said movies are.

I'm pretty decent at staying out of theaters for these movies, simply because they're too expensive (Tomb Raider 2 being a notable exception), but when they're on TV, I can't not watch.

Thankfully, to make up for Angelina Jolie's recent streak of really, really abominable movies, Clea DuVall (if you saw But I'm A Cheerleader, she's the super-hot badass chick) has found herself in a pretty damn good TV show called Carnivàle.

I wasn't quite sure if it would make up for her involvement in the atrocity that was Ghosts of Mars, but then I watched the mini-marathon HBO ran today, and discovered her character has Major Lesbian Subtext going on, and all was forgiven.

I will also admit that my inner film nerd appreciates the fact that the show is fucked up without veering off into Lynchian territory, but that statement will only make sense to film geeks.

Basically, the show's just fucked up enough to be really, really entertaining.

Even if you're not drooling over one of the leads.

You Know You're Fucked When...

You're compared unfavorably with Stalin (the key quote's at the end of the third paragraph).