I'm doing something I almost never do: I'm watching Monday Night Football in real time. I'm doing that because it's the Colts vs. the Bengals, and they are my two favorite teams. Happily, the Colts have stepped out to a 10-3 lead, but there's still a lot of time left to play. That said, watching in real time (rather than DVR-delayed) shows me just how annoying the eleventy-seven commercials an hour on MNF are. (Blast! Former Wahoo Terrence Wilkins just muffed a punt to give the Bengals excellent field position after a 3 and out.)
Luckily for me, I have the Chronicles to take up that commercial time. Keeping with the holiday spirit theme we established last time out, I'm going to share a video that Lawton sent to me. It's the Scrubs cast doing voice-overs of A Charlie Brown Christmas, and it's good times. Enjoy. (And now the Bengals have tied it up. Dammit, Terrence!)
Monday, December 18, 2006
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
We Got Spirit, Yes We Do
I like Commercialmas as much as the next guy. At least, provided that the next guy is another guy who kind of likes the season but isn't crazy-gung-ho about it and definitely doesn't think carols and such should be heard until December. Once December rolls around, I'm fine with it, but my desire to never decorate (much less to put up temporary decorations that will require effort to take down in the near future) is often misconstrued as a general bah-humbugness. The midnight, December 1st (an not a minute earlier) was a rule that a college roomie and I imposed on an overly (from our perspective) enthusiastic third roomie back in the day, and it has always stuck with me. For that reason, unlike Jen, I don't load Christmas tunes on the AbsPod. But I digress.
Just to show you that I'm not really all Scrooged up, I will share something with you. The other night, the Girl came over having heard a song that was "just so ridiculously cute" that she wanted to hear it more and more. In fact, she was a little irked that she didn't grow up hearing that song all the time. A little Googling found it for me, and I have to admit that 1) I had also never heard it before and 2) on the cute scale, it registers somewhere around ridiculous. So for your listening (and perhaps list-making) and spirit-imbuing pleasure, I give you this song (despite the possible lack of research by the singer)
Merry Christmas. I wish peace, mirth, joy, and (tame, pleasant) hippos for all.
Just to show you that I'm not really all Scrooged up, I will share something with you. The other night, the Girl came over having heard a song that was "just so ridiculously cute" that she wanted to hear it more and more. In fact, she was a little irked that she didn't grow up hearing that song all the time. A little Googling found it for me, and I have to admit that 1) I had also never heard it before and 2) on the cute scale, it registers somewhere around ridiculous. So for your listening (and perhaps list-making) and spirit-imbuing pleasure, I give you this song (despite the possible lack of research by the singer)
Merry Christmas. I wish peace, mirth, joy, and (tame, pleasant) hippos for all.
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
Ticker Translation
The other night, the Girl and I were hanging out and watching some college hoops, when she asked me, all out of the blue like, "What's mnf?"
"Mnf?" I asked. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Yes, mnf. What is it?"
I was confused. She's quite good with words, and she's generally pretty good at using them. Plus, her diction is such that it wasn't likely a problem with her enunciation. After some probing and clever cross-examination, I found out that this "mnf" was something she had seen on TV. Thanks to the powers of the DVR (which, even though the Comcast version is a piss-poor imitation of the goodness that is a Tivo, did come in handy), I was able to see what she was talking about. The ticker on the bottom of the screen, where ESPN2 shows scores and such had a score category labeled "MNF."
"That's Monday Night Football, baby."
"It is? Why don't they just call it 'NFL?' Isn't it kind of obvious that it's the Monday Night kind?"
I think it has something to do with branding, or name recognition, or some damned fool marketing concept that sounds good on paper. But, to paraphrase Kenny Mayne, concepts aren't played out on paper; they're played on TV sets. And that one is a head-scratcher.
"Mnf?" I asked. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Yes, mnf. What is it?"
I was confused. She's quite good with words, and she's generally pretty good at using them. Plus, her diction is such that it wasn't likely a problem with her enunciation. After some probing and clever cross-examination, I found out that this "mnf" was something she had seen on TV. Thanks to the powers of the DVR (which, even though the Comcast version is a piss-poor imitation of the goodness that is a Tivo, did come in handy), I was able to see what she was talking about. The ticker on the bottom of the screen, where ESPN2 shows scores and such had a score category labeled "MNF."
"That's Monday Night Football, baby."
"It is? Why don't they just call it 'NFL?' Isn't it kind of obvious that it's the Monday Night kind?"
I think it has something to do with branding, or name recognition, or some damned fool marketing concept that sounds good on paper. But, to paraphrase Kenny Mayne, concepts aren't played out on paper; they're played on TV sets. And that one is a head-scratcher.
Another Straw on the Haystack
It was very odd to me when I received a request for my blog last week. First, someone was admitting out loud that he or she reads it, damn the aspersions that fact may cast on his or her character. Second, the request was specifically for "non-sports" content. Granted, my blog is not a sports blog. However, I do love the sports. And the college basketball. (Yes, I know it's a sport, but I feel it deserves its own mention.)
Still, never let it be said that the reader's voice goes unheard or unheeded. This is not at all a sports post. Instead, it is another small pebble in the mountain of evidence that I am an idiot.
I thought I managed my morning pretty well today. I got out of bed, showered, dressed, grabbed my computer, iPod, breakfast, and soda, and hit the road. I made it in in plenty of time for my morning meeting, did my part, and headed back to my desk. All good, right?
The only thing is that on the way back to my desk, another meeting attendant discreetly told me that there was a sticker on my pants. So I looked. No, on the other side, the informant told me. Sure enough, there was a sticker indicating the size of the trousers, which is helpful when there are many of them on a shelf, but not so helpful post-purchase. That is, it's not helpful unless one is looking for evidence that the wearer is somewhat clueless. Sigh.
The worst part is that I couldn't be completely certain whether I had worn these pants before. I'm hoping I hadn't.
Still, never let it be said that the reader's voice goes unheard or unheeded. This is not at all a sports post. Instead, it is another small pebble in the mountain of evidence that I am an idiot.
I thought I managed my morning pretty well today. I got out of bed, showered, dressed, grabbed my computer, iPod, breakfast, and soda, and hit the road. I made it in in plenty of time for my morning meeting, did my part, and headed back to my desk. All good, right?
The only thing is that on the way back to my desk, another meeting attendant discreetly told me that there was a sticker on my pants. So I looked. No, on the other side, the informant told me. Sure enough, there was a sticker indicating the size of the trousers, which is helpful when there are many of them on a shelf, but not so helpful post-purchase. That is, it's not helpful unless one is looking for evidence that the wearer is somewhat clueless. Sigh.
The worst part is that I couldn't be completely certain whether I had worn these pants before. I'm hoping I hadn't.
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