So I've been thinking a lot about proper blogging over the last few days and being entirely too lazy to actually write anything. That's not going to change in any material way tonight, but I did want to mention that I survived the weekend.
I've been really tired for some reason all weekend long, starting on Thursday. Weird. My Birthday was pretty good - I didn't do much, but had a really nice dinner with Casey, then drinks with some friends at the Dime. Saturday was supposed to be sleeping in and relaxing, but somehow it wasn't. I did manage to leave the house with Christopher to go to some beach thing in the evening that was pretty fun, then met Casey and some folks at Michael's house (my former temporary place of residence). Came home 'round 1. Survived my first Sunday School in more than a decade, too. I'd like to think I'll go another decade without doing it again, too.
I don't want to, but I have to talk about the Eagles. I would like to just turn in my fan card right now. I know I can't do it, but jesus fucking christ, could they have looked more inept? Remember the thing I said about the offensive line at the start of the season? Fuck. Remember all those things about glass-jaw McNabb not being the same after his multiple injuries? One good game against a shitty team does not excuse an absurd game against a shittier team. And given that we have yet to play an important game in the six weeks so far of the season, losing three starters (last I looked - it's probably more by now) means that the season, already in jeopardy, is gone before the halfway point. Anyway, I certainly won't be going out of my way to watch the birds for the rest of the season. Oh, it'll still hurt when we lose to the goddamn Cowboys, but what the hell, right? A team of a collapse this epic... geh.
Lastly, on a slightly-happier note, I didn't hate Where The Wild Things Are. I didn't love it. The source material is seven sentences long, so there's a little trouble with making a feature-length story and not losing too much of the magic. Brevity is the soul of children's fiction, afterall. I mean, look at Jim Carrey's Grinch movie. I mean, don't, but you know what I mean. Also, Dave Eggers is a douchebag. More properly, A Heartbreaking Work Of Staggering Genius couldn't have been written by anyone but a giant, dripping, splooshy douchebag, and, well, yeah. WTWTA did look amazing, and the puppetry was spectacular. I liked the monsters' characters (minus the Silent Bob moment at the end, I think the Bull might have been my favorite), and I liked Max a lot. I want that wolf costume to wear when I'm having a bad day. I think I'd be wearing it a lot lately, and it's time to change that.
On that note, I'm off to bed. Maybe I'll write more tomorrow, but likely, I'll be too caught up in work and mowing the lawn. Maybe I'll also build something, too. We'll see. Thanks for reading all this shit.
