Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 608

An observation about ducks, deer and old people

I see Duck Crossing and and Deer Crossing signs all the time, but rarely do I see any ducks or deer.

It's almost a tease.

After all, who wouldn't want to see a duck and a bunch of ducklings waddling across the street?

In terms of crossing signs, it seems to me that the Elderly Crossing signs are the ones that hold the most promise in terms of actually seeing the fauna that they describe.  

There's an Elderly Crossing sign down the street, and there's always a good chance of catching sight of an elderly person in the wild. 

Not always in the crosswalk, which is frustrating, but then again, the few ducks and deer that I have seen haven't always used the crosswalk, either. 

An observation

I see Duck Crossing and and Deer Crossing signs all the time, but rarely do I see any ducks or deer.

It's almost a tease.

After all, who wouldn't want to see a duck and a bunch of ducklings waddling across the street?

In terms of crossing signs, it seems to me that the Elderly Crossing signs are the ones that hold the most promise in terms of actually seeing the fauna that they describe.  

There's an Elderly Crossing sign down the street, and there's always a good chance of catching sight of an elderly person in the wild. 

Not always in the crosswalk, which is frustrating, but then again, the few ducks and deer that I have seen haven't always used the crosswalk, either. 

An awkward moment involving a teenage girl, a Dixie cup, pee and me

I was at the pediatrician's office with my wife and daughter. 

After waiting more than fifteen minutes for the doctor, I left the examination room to use the rest room. 

It was locked.  I leaned against the wall adjacent to the door in order to wait my turn.  A minute later the door opened and a young girl, probably about thirteen years old, emerged.  She was holding a Dixie cup in her outstretched hand. 

She took a hard right upon exiting, did not see me standing there, and nearly ran into me. 

I saw the cup.  My mind said, "Apple juice?" In the bathroom?"

Then it corrected itself. 

"Pee?  Really?"

She brought the cup to an abrupt halt in front of my chest.  

I looked down into the cup.

She looked down. 

We watched the pee slosh around in the paper cylinder. 

Then our eyes met.  We did not speak aloud, but here is what we said with our eyes:

Girl:  I can't believe I almost ran into you with my pee.

Me:  I can't believe the doctor asked you to fill up a Dixie cup with pee and then just walk it down the hallway like this.

Girl:  My God. I am standing in front of a strange man with a warm cup of pee between us.

Me:  My God. Couldn't they have at least given you a cup with a lid?

Girl:  If I don't move in a second, this is going to get even more embarrassing than it already is.

Me:  Did the doctor give you a lid for that cup?  Maybe you left it behind in the bathroom?

Girl:  Who stands right next to a bathroom door anyway? 

Me:  Are plain old Dixie cups even sanitary?

Girl:  Why am I not moving yet?

Me:  And did you have the fill the cup almost to the top? I can't imagine the doctor needs that much pee.

Girl:  Still not moving!

Me:  I have to find a way to never let this happen to my daughter.

A baby began crying in an adjacent room, snapping us out of our trance and ending our conversation.  "Excuse me," I said, stepping to the side to allow the pee and its teenage pall bearer to pass safely.

As I turned and entered the restroom, I saw a stack of Dixie cups over the toilet. 

Is this really the best system for these doctors to obtain a urine sample?

Three movies in three days

In  the past week, I saw three movies. One with my wife and two with friends. 

Here are my thoughts, minus any spoilers:

Bridesmaids:  Extremely funny movie.  My only issue with the film is one I often have with films like this:

Am I really expected to believe that the best looking, smartest and funniest woman in the film can't find a decent guy to date? 

I have the same problem with the television comedy 30 Rock.  Tina Fey's character, Liz Lemon, is supposed to be unattractive, but Tina Fey is actually the best looking woman in the cast.  So every joke or sight gag made to further exploit Liz Lemon's supposed unattractiveness falls flat for me. 

I don't buy it.

If you want your female characters to be unattractive, and you want the audience to believe that  they are having difficulty finding good men, stop choosing beautiful, funny, smart women to play the parts.

I actually had a couple other issues with the film, but as we were walking from the theater to the car, my wife said, "I don't want to hear what you thought was wrong with that movie.  Don't ruin it for me."

I've been known to do this from time to time, so I'll abide by her request and remain silent.

The Hangover II:  I saw the first Hangover at the drive-in with my wife while my infant daughter was sleeping in the backseat, so perhaps this influenced my opinion of the movie, but I thought the first film was funny but not as incredibly funny as so many others thought.

By contrast, I saw The Hangover II with three friends, two of whom were drunk, at a midnight showing and thought the movie was absolutely hilarious.

It was clear that a story line involving the bride's brother was cut out during the editing process, which left a gaping hole in the center of the film, but it was still funny as hell and more than made up for the dangling story line.  

X Men: First Class: I saw the first two X-Men films and thought that were good.  I have never been a comic book guy, but I thought the movies were entertaining enough.

Not entertaining enough, mind you, to see the third and fourth installments of the franchise.  But good enough to not hate myself for seeing them. 

X-Men: First Class was also good, but it read more like a documentary than an actual film.  Seeking to fill in the backstory of more than a half a dozen characters, there was no central character in the film, and so there was no one to whom audiences could attach their loyalties.  As a result, scenes were especially short throughout the movie and there was little depth to any specific storyline.   

I also thought there were elements of the film, including a bad guy's submarine, that reminded me more of something from an Austin Powers film.  The story is set in the 1960's, so this makes sense on one level, but I thought it was overdone and slightly outrageous.  This works in a comedy like Austin Powers but less so in a serious superhero movie about the Cuban missile crisis.   

It was weird.

Too cool for school

My daughter had a fever, so she stayed home from school last week. My wife sent me these photos from her day off.

She looks terribly sick.  Huh? 

I think she might have been playing hooky for the first time. 

   

Sarah Palin teaches 5 important life lessons

First, if you haven't heard Sarah Palin's account of Paul Revere's ride and her subsequent defense of it, please watch. 

You be the judge.

Five important life lessons to learn from this latest debacle:

1. There is nothing wrong with not knowing something.  Even something as ubiquitous as the historical account of Paul Revere's ride. 

2. There is nothing wrong with admitting that you do not know something.

2. There is something very wrong with pretending to know something, and doing so will almost always make you look like a fool.

4. There is nothing wrong with admitting that you were wrong.

5. There is something very wrong with covering up your mistakes with inarticulate lies and fabrications.

Mind is playing tricks on me. On purpose.

Earlier in the night, I had a dream about one of those toy guns that shoots a flag on a stick that says BANG!

In my dream, someone had given my daughter the gun, and I found myself embroiled in an argument with a friend over the appropriateness of such a gift.

I thought the gift was fine, making the point that even if I were to concede that toy guns promote violence (which I do not believe), the frequency with which women are associated with gun violence is so low that there really is no danger in giving a girl a gun.

"In fact, if I were a toy gun manufacturer, I'd be marketing pink and yellow guns to girls under the slogan:

GIVE A GIRL A GUN. SHE'LL NEVER SHOOT YOU IN REAL LIFE."

Naturally, I won the argument, and even though it admittedly occurred in my dream, I still feel good about my victory. 

Much later in the night, after having been awakened by first by the cat and later by a serious muscle cramp, I had a dream abou a man threatening suicide with a gun.  When the man placed the barrel of the gun in his mouth and fired, he found his mouth suddenly filled with a red flag with the word BANG on it.

I was relieved. The transition from a suicide attempt to an amusing sight gag is always a good one. 

But I was genuinely surprised by the introduction of the toy gun to an otherwise highly intensity, pulse-pounding scenario.  I had thought the gun was real, and I fully expected to watch the man die. 

And this is where I become fascinated by the brain.

How is it possible for my mind to create a scenario that  genuinely surprises me without me becoming aware of the surprise?

In short, how does a brain keep secrets from its owner?

Genius or insanity

This is real. 

Don't ask me how you breathe.  I still don't know how. 

And I don't nap, nor do I abide by naps, so this isn't exactly a product designed for me. 

But it's ingenious, I think. 

Or crazy. 

A serious lack of air pressure

Clara's grandfather taught her how to blow on dandelion fluff.

She was not very good at it yet, but it made for an adorable photo.

The Moth: Help me tell my story

Regular readers of this blog may be aware my list of 2011 New Year's resolutions. 

Resolution #14 reads:

Participate in The Moth as a storyteller, at a live show or on their radio broadcast. 

More than a New Year's resolution, this has been a dream for me for past three years, and yesterday I got one step closer to that dream when The Moth decided to post my recent story pitch online for voting.  If I receive enough votes, I will have the opportunity to tell my story onstage or for The Moth's national radio hour. 

The Moth is a New York City based live storytelling organization which has recently expanded to several cities throughout the United States.  In addition to their live shows Moth stories are available on CDs and through their free, weekly podcast.  They are also frequently featured on radio shows and podcasts like This American Life and RadioLab.  

The opportunity to tell a story for The Moth is a big deal to me.  So if you have a moment, please click over to The Moth's website and vote for my story (if you think it worthy) by clicking on the stars beside the story itself.  Rating my story pitch will also register one vote for me.

My story is currently on the top of the first page, but as other story pitches are accepted, it will slowly climb down the list.

The story's title is The Day I Died Was The Worst Day In My Mother's Life. 

Thanks so very much for your support.