Television has left me

I just realized something interesting: I don’t watch TV anymore. I go to work in the morning, come home in the evening, have dinner, spend time with friends, play on my computer for a bit, maybe go to the gym… and I don’t watch TV. I’ll glance at it when someone else is watching it, maybe sit down and enjoy a snippet of a movie before getting up and doing something else… but it is never planned, and never for very long, and it certainly is not a regular occurrence.

I’m trying to remember the last time I actually sat down to watch something… hmmm…. okay, I did create and premiere a video of a party my friends and I were at, but I don’t really think that counts as watching TV. It’s more like watching a home movie, which is fundamentally different. I’m looking at my planner now and trying to figure out where I have been over the past few weeks… aha! I remember the last time I really sat down to watch TV: the Pistons games! But other than that, I have gone almost TV-less for at least 3 weeks, maybe more.

No conclusions yet, folks. I’m still too much in shock to be able to stand back and draw objective conclusions from this. My God, I was practically glued to the TV all through my childhood, and frankly I watched waaaay more than I should have this year at law school too! (Having a TiVo will do that to you.) Now, though, I am always out and about, doing things, running errands, seeing friends…..

I guess sitting around collecting dust isn’t really a high priority for me anymore.

The Secret Life of Birds

* A Vignette *

I am living at home for the summer — despite the fact that I am 25 and supposedly self-sufficient — because of the free rent and close proximity to my summer job. But it’s not all fun and games. I have to put up with all the annoyances I thought I left behind in high school: overprotective parents, clutter ad infinitum, and a little sister with a penchant for violating my personal space by giving me kisses when I least expect them.

I am sitting on the floor in the family room, reading a paper or watching TV or setting up a chess board. My parrot, Winston, is standing on his cage a few feet to my right, going about his business. My sister, Elizabeth, is sitting in a chair a few feet to my left. My parents are on various couches throughout the room.

I am tired, I announce. I am going to bed.

“Give me a kiss!” says Elizabeth.

“No!” I respond. I try to get up quickly, but it is too late; Elizabeth bounds toward me, a goofy smile on her face, aiming for my cheek. I reach out a hand to defend myself. She is on all fours, forcing herself toward me, her head straining from her neck, trying to pierce my impenetrable defense, looking for an opening where she can plant a big one on my cheek.

“Get away!!” I yell. My face contorts as I push her away with my arms while moving my head as far away from her as possible. But it isn’t working. She is getting closer. There is little I can do. Finally, after countless interminable seconds of torture and dread, she breaks through my shield and kisses me noisily on the cheek.

“Aaaaaaaargh!” I yell.

Suddenly, I hear laughter from above me. It is not my sister. It is not my parents. I turn in the direction of the sound.

It is Winston, my parrot, laughing merrily. It sounds kind of like Alvin and the Chipmunks. “Hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee…” He is really laughing! He had been watching the entire scene, and at the enthralling climax to our sibling battle, Winston broke out in laughter.

It diffused the faux dread. My entire family was laughing with him now, for hearing a bird laugh is instantly compelling. First, a bird laugh is really freakin’ cute. It’s impossible to hear it and not start laughing yourself. But more than that, it is amazing to realize that our little parrot has a sense of humor. Winston has laughed before, of course, but this is the first time he has realized that a situation is humorous even though no one else was laughing. This is the first time we have heard him truly laugh on his own rather than joining in with someone else’s laughter.

It is official: Winston is a little person.

Just as I always suspected.

Just call me Tiger

In what has clearly become a trend, [name removed for Google purposes] yesterday took his virginal swing in yet another sport: softball. That’s right — yours truly played Designated Hitter for the law firm softball team, and went up to bat three times. The first time, I hit a fly to left field, which was caught. Next, I hit a hard shot “up the box” — which means it went straight down the middle but basically between everybody — and got to first base. Finally, I hit a grounder toward third, ran hard, and was safe at first!

I never got past first, but that wasn’t my fault. We were at two outs already, because the coach had put me 10th in a lineup of 11. That’s only because he had no idea if I could play. Truth is, neither did I. Now that I have proven my mettle, I anticipate being placed a little earlier in the lineup next time.

Next time?

Oh yes, there will be a next time. This was a lot of fun!
And I’m going golfing again this weekend for the third time in a row!
And on Sunday I’m even scheduled to go horseback riding!

Where has the old me gone?

Last I saw, he was sprawled out on the couch with potato chip crumbs on his chest.

Mr. and Mrs. Smith go to a Bad Movie

I saw Mr. and Mrs. Smith with my family the other day. It was actionpacked and pretty and PUTRID. The San Franscico Chronicle reviewer put it succinctly:

“Mr. & Mrs. Smith” is an awful movie with two very good-looking people in it. The charms of its stars are unmistakable — what with all the close-ups and smirking — but in the end, they provide no distraction. The tiny smidgen of cleverness on display here is contained entirely in the premise. The follow-through is nonexistent. The film is glossy, but awful. Frenetic, but awful. Expensive, but awful.

I couldn’t have said it better myself. Well, I could have, but it would have required effort, and frankly, why reinvent the wheel?

Che-ney

Okay, this is hilarious.

I may get it.

Mark and I

This is Mark Nabong (pronounced “Yellow Hat”). He is one of the first friends I made at G’town, the funniest mofo in the entire school, and an all-around swell guy. Highly recommended!

Just call me Tiger Schwartz

I went golfing for the first time ever* yesterday! It was “Evergreen Hills,” 9 hole course, par 34 or so.

I shot an 85.

Not bad for my first time out, I’d say.

The only problem is that I was gripping the clubs and hitting the ball way too hard, thus causing my delicate man hands to peel and chaffe like [insert witty simile here]. Next time I go, I will try to grip the clubs a bit more lightly. Who knew golf required so much finesse?

Sorry for not updating in a while, but I’ve been busy. My new computer comes in a few days… I will try to post some updates then.

* Maybe it’s not the first time ever. I seem to recall playing nine holes with my dad about ten years ago. But neither of us knew how to play, and we were both just having fun and not really trying, so I don’t count it.