You may recall, back in March, a journal entry regarding the tragic loss of a close family member. Since then I’ve been (politely) pestering my remaining uncle for his account of what happened immediately afterward. With his permission, it is now online.
While this may only be of interest to close friends and family, I’m sharing it with everyone anyway. My reasons are my own.
Goodbye, George Kerezman.
The George Diaries
A few quickies for the day, in lieu of actual content. (One could argue that all of my entries are “in lieu of actual content,” I suppose.)
Off to the left, down where the other buttons live, is my GeoURL link. Yes, you can find me (or people near me) by physical location. Isn’t technology grand? Just more proof that I’m probably not as paranoid as I ought to be, or something.
Off to the right, below the daily email address link, are my instant messaging system nicknames. The AOL Instant Messenger one is also a link to send me a quick message. As AIM’s the system I’m almost always on, I figure that’s the only one I’ll bother putting a link for.
In other news, Intellectual Orgy can be traded on BlogShares. I leave the value of this fact as an intellectual exercise for the reader, given that I’m not really that vigorous about “playing” the BlogShares game.
Uncle Pete will be sending me a copy of his write-up of the story of Uncle George’s passing at some point in the (relatively) near future. Shortly afterward it will become a permanent part of this website. If you’re so inclined, please think positive thoughts in the direction of southern Texas. Pete can use all the love and joy he can get right about now.
That’s all for tonight, folks. Maybe I’ll do some photography for next time. What do you think?
It all started Friday evening, as most weekends do. My grandfather and his wife took the kids to a concert, so Wendi and I took advantage of the opportunity for a quick dinner date. Have I mentioned that I love NoHo’s teriyaki chicken? I have? Good.
We hurried through dinner, hurried back to the house… and waited until 10:30 for the kids to be returned. See, they decided to visit the conveniently-located Burgerville for a bite. Oh well. This just meant that the kids would be really tired once we got home from…
X2: X-Men United. We dragged the kids to an 11:00pm showing on Friday night. The short review? I liked it. The longer review looks something like this.
Saturday dawned far too early for our sleepy bodies. Wendi had to work, and before work she had to run around doing errands. Luckily for her she had a trainee along to help lug things, and doubly lucky for her the gig ended early. Afterward came some unpleasantness between her and I, but it was all sorted out by morning to the betterment of all involved.
Let’s just say that communication, caring and honesty are incredibly vital things in any loving relationship.
Sunday was Bebop Movie Day for my friends and I. First, however, I had to do my usual email maintenance and AS/400 tape backup routine. I won’t go into the problems with corporate email, since it’ll only ruin a perfectly cheerful mood. Suffice to say that eventually I got the hell out of there and out to the theater, where I met…
Mari, with Angst and Anxiety (Lilith’s “demonspawn”) in tow. We bought our tickets and headed for the front of the balcony, where I’ve sat for nearly every movie I’ve seen at Cinema 21. (Let me tell you, back in the day I saw movies there all the damned time, too.) Eventually Mari was able to find and retrieve Lilith and Geoffrey, but couldn’t spot Celina and Wade. Oh well.
Short version of my Bebop review: Eh, it was okay. The details are available if you want the full discourse.
I’d like to break for a rant, here. What is it with anime moviemakers? Is there some cultural thing that decrees, “thou shalt include random philosophical mumbo-jumbo in all action/adventure fare”? Escaflowne has it, the X movie was drowning in it, and even the Bebop movie couldn’t escape the curse. (Don’t get me started on Gundam Wing, an entire TV series built around the concept of “philosophical discourse during battle.”) The movie is chirping along just fine, and WHAM, we get two or three solid minutes of pointless rambling about fate or the nature of the universe or reality versus fantasy or some-such. I don’t mind a bit of deeper meaning, but I don’t want to be preached at. Repeatedly. Is anyone listening? Anyone? Bueller?
Okay then. The movie (that Mari slept partly through) ended, and surprise! We found Celina and Wade, who’d gotten to the theater just a bit too late to meet up with Mari. Ah well. This was the first time Mari or I had met Celina, though we’d chatted with her on and off for quite a while from back in the old #KNRK days. (She was Mononoke.) Celina’s a cutie, and Wade’s a helluva lucky guy.
We all went out for chinese food, had a pretty good time, and went more-or-less on our seperate ways. There are worse ways to spend a Sunday afternoon than taking in a movie and then dinner with friends. Far, far worse.
The remainder of my evening was spent killing time over at Lil’ and Geoffrey’s place. We made fun of Red Planet, we made fun of the demonspawn, we made fun of Sometimes They Come Back, we made fun of each other. In short, we all had fun.
I’m sure that everything I forgot or left out will appear elsewhere, eventually. In the meantime, suffice to say that I had a fulfilling and happy weekend, all told. I’ve never had so many good friends at one time before, and it’s a great feeling.
Thank you, my friends, for making my weekend fabulous.
My X2 Review
My Bebop Review
All kinds of folk are dropping by our place lately. Just yesterday, my “long-lost” cousin Angela brought her husband and one of her children to visit with Wendi for a while. I’m told everyone had a nice time, and Angie wants my help writing a book about her early life. Too bad I don’t remember much from those days…
Last night Geoffrey came over for a couple hours’ worth of gamer-geek fun, starring aliens and predators. I will say this: The Marines in AvP2 get some really nifty hardware. The Aliens hide very, very well. The Predators… well, I haven’t tried them very much yet. I’ll find out and get back to you, if you’re really curious.
Tonight, Mari’s due over for a couple hours of Cowboy Bebop so she knows what’s going on before seeing the movie. She’ll meet Spike, Jet, Ein and Faye, but sadly not Edward. Such is life. She’ll at least be ready for the movie on Sunday.
I think I like being host to friends and family. Yeah. So who wants to come over next?
We almost didn’t have a babysitter, but in the end things worked out so Wendi and I could go on our “dinner and a movie” date.
Dinner was Chang’s, but before we went to the restaurant I suggested stopping in at Jantzen Beach “mall” (boy, has that place dried up) to track down the game-trading store that Qwest’s website insisted was present. Nope, but there’s a very neat hobby store that Wendi and I strolled through very, very slowly… yum.
After we gorged ourselves at Chang’s (again, yum) we decided that since neither of us had any better ideas we’d just head for the theater and see what we could find. Of the three movies Wendi wanted to see, the only one I found appealing was Bulletproof Monk.
Here’s the short review, since it’s not worth the full treatment: Overall a light, fun little movie, doesn’t take itself too seriously, but plays it straight and cool except for the really campy bits (mainly anything involving the Nazis), but when it’s over you’ve had a good time. This one’s a rental, not one to own.
I’ll close with a silly phrase I came up with while wandering around Jantzen Beach “Mall.”
Much like there is no ‘I’ in ‘team,’ there is also no ‘Y’ in ‘love.’
Pithy, wot?
I wrote up a large-ish posting for one of the 3WA forums, then realized it would be perfect journal fodder. So here you go:
I’ve always been your basic easily-amused borderline-immature type. Why, just the other day I scored 69% pure on a 500-question purity test. Oh, the irony!
Spoonerisms (“scooter crew,” mwahahaha!) have always been part of my stock in trade, as are cheap puns and sex-based humor. Making fun of road signs and reader boards is a hobby. (On the side of a U-Haul building, where an “H” had gone missing: “Custom Itches.” Priceless.)
And then I became a father. And my children learned to speak. And life became ever so much more amusing!
We call them chipmunks, by the way, not farts. No, I don’t remember how that started.
I honestly, truly believe that my ability to act silly with my kids and bring out the silliness in them is my strongest parental skill. Let’s face it, my wife and I are both scarred survivors of childhood, having been unpopular introverted types. It’s painfully obvious that our son is a true child of ours, and so we are doing everything in our power to give him the confidence (and sense of humor) to help him survive what will unquestionably be his toughest years. Encouraging the responsible use of his remarkable powers of comedy is part of that preparation.
(In the past six months, I don’t think I’ve gotten the last word in. Not once. He’s ten years old and already funnier than his dad. I try to contain my jealousy…)
As for the little girl… we don’t know where she came from or how. She’s one of those instant charmers, a naturally gifted social goddess who has almost no enemies but creates enemies among those who vie for her favors. She’s nine going on fifteen. Whee.
This has wandered wildly OT, but let me try to get back to the point.
Among the dozens of silly names and games are Meep and Koosh, being a finger to the tip of the nose and a flat hand on the top of the head respectively. Random meeps and kooshes are part of the repertoire of affection in our household.
And then one day my daughter, the one who had never before shown signs of incipient comedic chops, got her hands on the Nerf “baseball bat,” bopped me on the top of the head with it and announced, “I am the Exe-Koosh-ener!”
I couldn’t see for the tears in my eyes after that one. Ah, was ever a father more proud of his progeny?
You’re so Immature!
