The Powers That Be at work were kind enough to take everyone to go see it today. I’ll hold off publishing my full review until tomorrow when my wife and in-laws see it. But in the meantime, I’ll just mention that I give it 2.5 stars out of 4, and the half a star extra is only because it’s an Indiana Jones movie.
I’m doing a little research for a commercial we’re shooting on Thursday that involves a bunch of sci-fi nerds standing in a line waiting for the premier of their new movie. (Although the commercial has nothing to do with sci-fi nor movies.)
As I tweaked the script, I remembered the red guards from the original Star Wars Trilogy (I think they were first seen in Empire Strikes Back). Wanting to learn a little more about them, I jumped on Wikipedia. From the ‘pedia:
[Imperial Royal Guardsman] are the best and most loyal of the Imperial stormtroopers, solely responsible to Palpatine…. A mere 4% of all trainees would survive the rigors that awaited them to become Royal Guards; during a year-long training program, recruits sparred against each other continuously perfecting their combat skills. …In their final test, each fought his training partner to the death…
Seriously impressive, right? And then there’s this guy who’s in charge of guarding the Palpatine’s 10-speed:
The Emporer can be such a jerk sometimes.
Image courtesy of here.
I home teach a family, the Whites. They’re nice people and my wife and I have become pretty good friends with them. How good of friends are we? Good enough friends that we feel comfortable farting in front of each other without feeling the need to blame it on our kids. Enough said.
A while back, their son Cole (pictured here in all his majesty) decided that I was the home teacher with the teeth. This is an odd distinction to make since my home teaching companion isn’t missing any teeth of which I’m aware. I was fine with the name because I’d rather be known as the home teacher with teeth than the home teacher without teeth.
But “home teacher with teeth” isn’t my new nickname.
This past Sunday while I was over I asked Cole what my name was. I expected one of two answers: something about teeth, or Jake’s dad. (For whatever reason he has no problem remembering my son’s name.) What came out of his mouth shocked us all:
“Groin.”
Huh?
“Groin.”
Pardon?
“Groin.”
Come again?
“Groin.”
There was no mistaking it. The kid was calling me Groin.
So the whole thing was a bit odd. But what has me more worried is that the name may have stuck. My wife answered the phone, “Yes, Groin?” when I called her a few days ago, and Cole called me Groin again tonight.
Despite its anatomical references, I’m sure “Groin” isn’t the worst nickname ever. So I think I’m going to have a little contest: leave word in the comments about the worst nickname you’ve ever heard (you must have known the person who had it). I’ll pick the top three or so for everyone to vote on. The person who submitted the worst nickname gets a prize. Seriously. I’m going to mail something to the winner. I’m not sure what it is yet, but I don’t think it will be offensive.
No, your eyes doth not deceive you. My Fruit of the Loom® socks not only stay black, and are the ultimate for fit and comfort (debatable), but the folks at The Loom have taken sock packaging to an entirely new level by providing a resealable bag. Yes, resealable. Like something your salad would come in. But without the croutons and dressing.
I’m not sure why I’d need to reseal my socks in their original packaging. To my knowledge they don’t have a shelf life and don’t need to remain fresh. In fact, we’d like the socks to be a little less fresh as, frankly, they reeked. Horribly. Like something that I can’t name because I’m not sure what it is. All I know is that it smells bad and is probably ugly. Like this guy. Imagine the scent this little guy would put out when in heat. That’s what my socks smelled like. But worse.
Anyhoo, the socks are OK. We’ve washed them a couple of times now and only a little stench remains. Unfortunately, it was enough for one of these little critters to find me and start trying to make more little critters with my foot. It was awkward. I’m looking forward to summer when I can stop wearing the romantic socks and sart wearing flip-flops.
Smelly animal pic from here.
This brilliant list was pulled from the ShoeboxBlog (you know, Shoebox, that tiny little division of Hallmark).
The Top Five Reasons February Doesn’t Suck:
1. The weather. No, that’s wrong.
2. Summer vacation is just around…no it’s not.
3. You can start wearing…wait. No you can’t.
4. Valentine’s Day was happy. If you were already happy.
5. It’s two days shorter than the other months. But not this year.
*sigh* At least in March Daylight Saving Time begins and we can start enjoying longer days.
