Oscar Roundup ’09
For the first time in eight years, I watched the Academy Awards live from a vantage point away from the Kodak Theatre. And now I remember why so many attendees spend most of the night at the bar– that is one boring show. Some thoughts on the Oscars:
– Judging by Reese Witherspoon’s black eyes and ragged dress, it appears that Chris Brown already has a new girlfriend.
–I wonder who wore the sheet with the higher thread count: Jessica Biel or Tilda Swinton. I hope they were smart enough to bring along the matching pillows to use during the terminally long telecast.
–Halle Berry, on the other hand, knows the Oscars is not a time for comfort and, as always, was the best dressed.
–Jennifer Aniston gets her big moment in the spotlight at the Academy Awards introducing a clip and the camera cuts to Angelina Jolie. I’m starting to wonder if Aniston gave everybody in Hollywood Herpes and that’s why they all seem to hate her so much.
–I loved it when Steve Martin stopped in the middle of introducing a clip and randomly said to Tina Fey, “DON’T…fall in love with me.”
–I also got a kick out of Ben Stiller’s impersonation of Joaquin Phoenix’s recent whackjob appearance on David Letterman. I was a little surprised there weren’t any Christian Bale references.
–The Japanese Oscar recipients gave the most entertaining acceptance speeches of the night. It’s about time somebody gave Mr. Roboto his props.
–After hearing so many winners talk about growing up in foreign countries never imagining they’d one day come to the United States and win an Oscar, I wondered if any American kids will one day realize their dream of answering tech support calls in India.
–Let me get this straight, Sean Penn can joke, “”You commie, homo-loving, sons of guns,” and not get bleeped but if somebody utters a friendly “Fuckin’ A this rules,” 10 guys are jumping for the censor button? Not that I have a problem with Penn’s comment, I’ll just never understand our society’s stupid animosity toward four letter words. I was bummed to miss the Mickey Rourke freak show but I liked Penn’s speech. There’s something particularly hot about a straight man speaking passionately in support of gay rights.
I.D.iots
Tonight I went to get a gift certificate for someone at his favorite hangout, Ye Rustic Inn. I wasn’t carrying my usual bag and consequently didn’t have my wallet with me. When I approached the front door, the bouncer asked for my ID and I explained that I didn’t have it and he told me he couldn’t let me in. I said, “Come on, I’m obviously over 21″ and he said, “I can’t, it’s Susan’s policy.” I tried protesting for a few minutes, probably rolling my eyes 50 times in the process but he wouldn’t budge.
I completely understand that a bar has to protect itself from minors getting in and I certainly would never have argued the point in my early 20′s but some places take it to ridiculous lengths. A 95-year-old almost-blind man could tell I’m old enough to enter, so I shouldn’t even be asked for my ID in the first place. It’s an invasion of privacy that I obliged when I was younger but why should I have to allow a stranger to know my full name, birth date, weight (well, the supermodel weight I admitted to) and address when it serves no purpose? Having been a victim of identity theft- an incredibly annoying situation to rectify- I’m a bit cautious about sharing too much information. In fact, I still use my parents’ address on my license for that reason (plus, if I ever piss off someone with access to my license and they decide to kill me in my sleep, they’ll get my parents instead. I’m always thinking ahead). 
At this point, I really didn’t want to give the bar any business but since it was a gift, I said, “Fine, I want to buy a $75 gift certificate. Can you get it for me? If you could have Susan do it, I’d like to speak with her about her policy.” So he went inside to check on it, during which time four girls who were probably about 19 just strolled inside the door. Clearly, security is a top priority at Ye Rustic Inn. That’s when I realized I’d stumbled on a brilliant ploy for getting underage friends into bars- it could possibly be as effective as the old “There are two cute girls kissing each other in the parking lot” ploy. Unfortunately, it’s about 10 years past the point when I actually knew anybody underage but it would make me proud if somebody else successfully implemented this plan.
The bouncer came back several minutes later and said, “Susan said for you to return in the daytime, we’re busy right now.” I was flabbergasted. This is not an upscale Hollywood bar, it’s an $8-a-pitcher joint. I thought about all the assholes I had to be nice to over the years for their $6 purchases but then when I’m the customer, they can’t even take three minutes to accept an easy $75 that requires no immediate expense on their part. If Susan had half a brain she could have let me in and taken 30 minutes to get the gift certificate, meanwhile squeezing a few more bucks out of me for a cocktail or two while I waited.
I have no intention of purchasing that gift certificate from Ye Rustic Inn but I think I will return because I want to speak to Susan. I worked for plenty of “Susans” over the years: total idiots who had no business running a business. But as an employee, I couldn’t tell those people what I thought of them (at least, not until after they fired me). Will politely telling her she’s a shitty manager make her a better one? Probably not. But it will give me a sense of satisfaction and if I actually get around to doing it, I’ll post how it goes. I think I’ll even try to get my hands on a 22-year-old’s ID for the occasion.
The Harder The Better
Here’s a doozy to start off the new year:
A man who has a history of smashing windows to indulge his fetish for female mannequins could draw a long prison term for his latest arrest. Ronald A. Dotson, 39, of Detroit faces up to life in prison if convicted of a charge of attempted breaking and entering at a cleaning-supply company in the Detroit suburb of Ferndale. (Full story)
I don’t know what’s more disturbing: the fact that this guy has the hots for mannequins or the fact that his repeat offenses could land him in prison for life while guys who rape actual women and children only get a few years.
I think I understand his arousal having recently seen this mannequin in a store. I love that the maker apparently thought the best way to make it look realistic was to give it hard nipples rather than something like, oh… a head.
A Family That Smokes Together, Stays Together (Until The Kids Rat ‘Em Out)
Finally, an answer to the age-old question, “which came first- the good behavior or the joint?”
A mother and father accused of providing their preteen sons with marijuana as a reward for good behavior have been arrested by Chandler police. Toni Lynn Carlson, 31, and Aaron Virgil Carlson, 23, were booked on suspicion of possessing marijuana and drug paraphernalia, possessing marijuana for sale, contributing to the delinquency of minors and endangerment.
They were taken into custody Thursday evening after detectives served a search warrant at the Carlsons’ home in the 400 block of West Aloe Place.
A court document states a quarter-pound of marijuana was found in the home.
Police said the boys, ages 12 and 11, and a 4-year-old girl, are in the care and custody of a family member.
The investigation began after authorities received tips from a neighbor about the possible usage and sale of drugs at the home, police spokesman Sgt. Rick Griner said.
Detectives didn’t know about the family possibly smoking marijuana together until the parents and children were interviewed, Griner added.
Also under investigation is the possibility the Carlsons supplied drugs to other children. (Source)
I think we’ve found Nicky “No Seeds” Randle’s supplier. I’m curious about the fact that 23-year-old Carlson isn’t referred to as “the stepfather.”
Sticky Buns
A 20-year-old was found by a Wal-Mart employee in the bathroom Sunday night after he sat down and was glued to the toilet seat.
Where do I start with this one? I guess with the lesson every parent should teach their kids: Don’t put your bare ass on a public toilet. If the guy had placed the paper cover on the seat, he would have noticed that it didn’t fall right into the bowl as seat covers are prone to do thus bringing to his attention that something was amiss. But apparently he felt confident that people looking to save an extra nickel on Top Ramen have the sort of defecation habits that don’t necessitate the use of protective covers. Or perhaps he’d just eaten some Wal-Mart delectables and had to run to the restroom so fast he didn’t have time to put one down. While I don’t condone vandalizing property, I do see the prank as a sort of “Idiot Identification System” and I encourage all discount shopping chains to add the sticky seat to their bathrooms. And I mean sticky-stuck seats instead of the sticky-yuck seats they currently have.
Just Give Him Two Tylenol
An Oregon man who went to a hospital complaining of a headache was found to have 12 nails embedded in his skull from a suicide attempt with a nail gun, doctors say. (Full story)
Twelve nails to the noggin’ and this guy complains of a headache. Makes me wonder how long it took for the doctor to discover the real problem:
Doctor: So, what brings you here today?
Nailboy: I’ve got a headache I can’t quite shake.
Doctor: Would you describe it as throbbing or pounding?
Nailboy: More like piercing.
Doctor: Do you get these headaches often?
Nailboy: No, this is the first time.
Doctor: Have you been under any stress at work?
Nailboy: Nope.
Doctor: Home?
Nailboy: Nope.
Doctor: Any major bumps to the head?
Nailboy: Nope.
Doctor: I think I’ve covered just about everything. Oh wait, have you hammered any nails into your skull recently?
Nailboy: Come to think of it, I did shoot 12 nails into my head last night. Think that might be the problem?
Full Moon Freaks
Back when I waited tables, I’d notice some nights when customers were especially weird and think, “It must be a full moon.” I was right about 90% of the time. And the 10% error rate was probably due to people who are freaks ALL the time. I don’t know what the moon does but there’s no question in my mind that it somehow makes people behave erratically.
Yesterday was just one of those days when it only took a 30 minute excursion to realize it was a full moon. It started the moment I left my apartment and saw a queen-sized mattress right in the middle of the building’s courtyard. There was nobody around, no signs of somebody moving, no indication of an impromptu slumber party about to begin. Naturally, I was curious why it was there and how it got there. I can understand dropping a sock on the way back from the laundry and not realizing it, but a dropped mattress is one of those things you’d expect someone to notice. Perhaps that’s giving people too much credit.
I drove to the store and saw a homeless guy dancing in the middle of an interesection, which I thought was hilarious. Five minutes later some folks dressed in Mardi Gras costumes (in March) danced in the cross walk in front of my car and all I wanted to do was run them all down. Dancing in the street is fun as long as it doesn’t impede my progress.
I arrived at the Staples parking lot to find only one open spot but it was blocked by a guy sitting in his car talking on the phone. I gave a little beep and he rolled down his window. I asked if he could please move forward a bit so I could pull into the spot. He said, “I’m taking that spot.” I was annoyed since he’d shown no signs he was moving in any direction, least of all in a miraculous perpendicular one. With no other choice, I moved ahead to loop around again. That’s when I saw the guy drive off the lot! It’s as if he was angry at me for honking at his rude behavior and decided to punish me by claiming he was taking the spot.
I finished shopping at Staples then stood in line between TWO people with dogs. It’s bad enough I have to stumble over people’s rugrats in stores, now I have to worry about their pets? Though, I have to admit, if I had my choice between dogs and kids in the store, I’d pick dogs. But I don’t have that choice so let’s eliminate what we can. What particularly bothered me was that when I left, I saw the first guy loading his packages into his car, which was 20 feet from the store entrance. For the life of me, I can’t figure out why he couldn’t leave his dog in the car. For Christ’s sake, it was a 60 pound German Shepherd. It’s not like anybody was going to steal it. For that matter, nobody was going to steal the other guy’s 5 pound mangy poodle either. I’ll make a deal with local dog owners: I won’t set up my desk on the path at Runyan Canyon, you don’t bring your dog into Staples.
The one mile drive home involved at least three “fucking idiot”‘s on my part, but that’s actually standard driving procedure in Hollywood and can’t be blamed on the moon.
I returned home to discover the mattress still there, where it stayed until later that evening. It was probably moved when a full moon afflictee settled in for bed and realized his new mattress wasn’t very soft then remembered that “thud” he’d heard earlier just as his load lightened significantly.
Anybody know a good full moon reminder service? I really need to stay on top of this so I can just lock myself away one day a month.
It’s Alive!
Some people may have noticed that my site’s been down for almost two days. Or maybe nobody noticed. But please don’t tell me that so I can continue with my grand delusion that people went into panic mode when they couldn’t access my blog.
I was in the middle of writing a post when suddenly the download manager popped up asking me if I wanted to download pages instead of viewing them. I sent my piece-of-crap web hosting company (not to be confused with the piece-of-crap web hosting company I ditched just two months ago) about seven help tickets marked “urgent” over the course of 24 hours and couldn’t get even a reply! It took until the fifth ticket before I included my first angry “fuck,” which I think showed a lot of restraint considering my site and email weren’t working.
Their website claims, “You can speak to us 24 hours a day, seven days a week, 365 days a year.” What they don’t mention is that you can speak to them 24 hours a day, but they probably won’t be listening and they certainly won’t be responding. Being ignored aggravates me to no end. They could have said they were working on the problem or they could have said they didn’t know what the problem was. They could have even blamed it all on me. But they should have said SOMETHING. I finally had to switch to a new web host and wait for the DNS servers to switch over. Let me tell you, once you switch from html to php and SQL, you want to find a good host and stay there forever. Figuring out how to configure that stuff is a bitch.
So now 36 hours has passed since I first wrote them and still nothing. My chances of getting a refund of the balance paid don’t look good. Where’s that Virtual Bullet when you need it?
Bushit
bu’shit (b
sh
t
)
n.
1.The crap that comes out of our president’s mouth.
Today in Afghanistan, George Dubya asserted that when it comes to Osama Bin Laden and Taliban leader Mullah Omar, “It’s not a matter of if they’re captured and brought to justice. It’s when they’re brought to justice.”
I’m curious what calendar Dubya lives by. My calendar is just an Outlook freebie but according to it, it’s been four and a half years since he vowed Bin Laden would be taken “dead or alive.” Since then, his “resolve” in finding Bin Laden has mysteriously gone all the way to Iraq where there’s as much chance of finding Nicole Brown Simpson’s killer as Osama. Heck, Dick Cheney has had more success in nabbing rich guys in hiding than Bush has.
I guess Dubya remembers the thunderous applause he received to his inital promise and thought that by restating it, he’d hear the cheers again and bump up his dismal 34% approval rating. It’s kind of like when a comic tells a joke that gets a great response so he tells the punchline again with slightly different wording but this time, the audience sits there in silence thinking, “What the hell? Does he really think we’re so stupid to fall for that again?”
I’ve never understood the tactic of making grand declarations you don’t know for certain you can live up to. It’s a testosterone-filled competitive behavior that only succeeds in making you look like a jackass when you fail. Whatever happened to “Actions speak louder than words?” I really do hope Osama’s caught and brought to justice but in the meantime, Bush should take a note from his own actions immediately following the 9/11 attacks and just sit tight and keep his mouth shut.
Wise Guy’s Wise Move
Authorities in Florida are trying to determine whether or not actor Joe Pesci should be charged with misdemeanor battery for punching a fan. According to the 24-year-old “victim’s” own testimony:
After encountering Pesci, 62, he shook the actor’s hand and told him he was a big fan. He then purchased a camera, walked toward Pesci and asked for a picture, but the actor refused, he said.
He kept asking to take a picture, and when Pesci turned, he took the photograph. Pesci then punched him with his right fist, the report said.
Good for Pesci!
Taking someone’s picture is by no means deserving of a right hook but being an asshole is. Why did he even bother to ask Pesci if he was going to do it anyway? And why was it so necessary for him to take that picture? I’m sure there are plenty of pictures of Joe Pesci available on the Internet and I can’t imagine he needed it as proof for his friends. Just like in the Robbie Knievel situation, there’s no reason to think someone’s lying when they claim to have met Joe Pesci.
It must be sweet to be in Pesci’s position. What’s the worst that can happen as a result of his actions? They can slap him with a fine he can pay without even flinching. Or they could send him to jail for a few days, which might actually be fun for him. Everybody loves Joe Pesci- nobody’s gonna hassle him in the slammer.
While I’ve frequently expressed my support for The Golden Rule, I’m also a strong proponent of The Golden Rule’s follow-up policy: Payback Is A Bitch. I can only fantasize about some of the retaliatory measures I’d take if I didn’t have to worry about the consequences:
Ah, to dream…
Calling Out Idiots
There seems to be some confusion as to the nature of this blog. It’s called “People are Idiots” because I primarily discuss the idiotic behaviors I encounter on a regular basis. But judging by a few of the comments to my posts, some people seem to think this blog is “People for Idiots,” like it’s some sort of group that supports idiots. While I would be happy to accept any donations on behalf of Jessica Simpson, Anna Nicole Smith and George Bush, they won’t receive the money and sending such a donation will only add you to their ranks.
I appreciate people taking the time to leave their comments, I really do, so I think I should clear up some things. The first being that I am not an idiot. Sure, I have my moments but they’re far enough apart for me to not qualify as being an idiot. If I say something in my blog that seems totally absurd or if a solution is painfully obvious, trust me, I know about it. Sometimes I take a little poetic or comedic license when I write. Including a bunch of disclaimers or explanations would take away what little humor I have to offer. That’s not to say that I never get things wrong, just that if the average moron on the street knows what’s correct, then I do too. Ask if you’re not sure.
If I claim ignorance on a topic like, oh, say, Mesothelioma, it’s not because I don’t know how to learn more about it. I’m sure that the 20 or so people who offered explanations of Mesothelioma through comments were trying to be helpful. But since the mere mention of the word caused a dozen or so “Learn More About Mesothelioma” ads to pop up on that page, I wasn’t lacking for convenient, expert resources- even if I wasn’t already well versed in the workings of a Google search. Then again, maybe the comments weren’t attempts at being helpful but rather a “screw you” to me after I said I didn’t want to know more about it.
That all said, I’ve deleted most of the recent offenders to save some embarrassment but from now on, I’m calling people out. If someone wants to point out the obvious, I’m going to respond with the simplest, yet most effective retort ever: “Duh.” Now, I don’t want to scare people away from leaving comments, so I’ve added a little “Duh” semi-immunity: I’ll limit my abuse toward those who use the simplest, yet most effective excuse ever: “I was drunk.” Just preface your comment with ***DRUNK COMMENT*** and I’ll cut you some slack. Notice I said “some” slack because there are certain levels of idiocy that go beyond mere drunkenness.
You Get What You Pay For
Happy new year and all that good stuff. I’ve been slacking big time on my blog. My usual ranting and raving just seemed out of place over the holidays. I had planned to vent during my family’s first official Festivus celebration (I even got the pole, which I’m sure my sister’s wondering what the hell she’s going to do with right about now), but somehow I missed my turn to speak during the “airing of grievances.” At least it left me with a few pent up aggravations to blog about.
So my first attack of 2006 shall be against my piece of crap web hosting company who likes to periodically screw with my email. First they removed my email catch-all a few months ago without notifying me, causing me to lose a lot of letters. Basically, what the catch-all does is forward all email sent to my domain to my main email account. The problem for me is that I make up new email addresses all the time. For instance, if I go to a company’s website and have to submit a valid email address I’ll put in the company’s name followed by “@jenee.net” so that I can keep track of who’s whoring my address. For three days, I had to keep filling out support tickets to get the stupid customer service reps to understand that I don’t need their assistance in blocking spam if it means I’m missing important emails. My letters started out very cordial, with “please” and “thank you” and eventually degenerated to “DON’T FUCK WITH MY MAIL EVER AGAIN.” Sadly it was the latter approach which finally worked and my catch-all was reinstated.
Then recently, I noticed I was receiving drastically fewer emails. It went from about 80 pieces per day to about 10. I couldn’t figure it out. I spent way too much time adjusting my Outlook settings and sending myself emails trying to determine where all the mail had gone but I was stumped. Then an incident occurred where I had to write to my poker site about a problem and didn’t receive a response. They’re always awesome about replying quickly so I sent them a few more letters over the next few days (no degeneration this time because they’re very cool). They made a couple of bonus deposits to my account, which was great, but I still wanted an answer to my inquiry. I finally got one when I accidentally wrote to them from a different email address and they told me that they’d done some investigating and learned my web host had added Spam Cop to my site. It blocks certain content and IP addresses that it has determined sends spam. But neither I nor the sender is notified the mail isn’t being delivered.
I was absolutely furious when I learned this. I couldn’t believe my hosting company implemented something like this without telling me. Was I not clear when I wrote, “DON’T FUCK WITH MY MAIL EVER AGAIN?” The support tickets started again and I didn’t even attempt to be polite. In their responses, they insisted that Spam Cop is necessary (though I really don’t understand how it affects them). I explained that receiving my email is necessary and that I’ve got all kinds of junk mail filters in place. I even directed them to their own terms of service which essentially says that they don’t touch customers’ email. I got nowhere. These bastards refuse to remove their little spam nazi.
The most frustrating aspect of the whole situation is that they’re a pretty cheap company so when problems occur, I’ve got no leverage. I can’t threaten to take my business elsewhere because they’ll just say, “Oh no! Guess we’ll have to order a medium pizza instead of a large for the next company party.” They probably giggle about their “99.9% uptime guarantee” knowing that even though they’re closer to 85%, what are the customers going to do about it? I only have two paid months left and I considered staying with them just because they promised me another two free months for all the emails I lost when they removed the catch-all. The stubborn side of me wants to get everything they owe me but then I realized sticking it to them for $6-8 won’t exactly sting.
In the process of writing this post I got so annoyed that I moved my domain over to the reseller account I just purchased where I’m the boss and can host as many domains as I want. Unfortunately, I screwed something up and now my homepage doesn’t work properly. And the worst part is, now I’ve got nobody I can complain to!
Great start for the new year.
Honk If You Don’t Like Getting Bumped
Tonight, I came around the corner in a parking lot and saw the car ahead of me slowly backing up so I stopped. When he was about six feet from my car, I gave a little beep. He kept going. So I gave a full honk. He kept going. I blared my horn since there was a car behind me and I had nowhere to go. But apparently I was behind the fucking Energizer Bunny who kept going and going until he bumped right into me.
A security guard who saw it all immediately walked over. I figured it was a good sign he’d seen the incident because there’s never any damage when witnesses are around. It’s only when there’s $2,000 worth of destruction that it’s your word against the other person’s. I quickly inspected the bumper and everything looked fine. The young guy apologized and said that his music was up high, which is why he didn’t hear me honk. I said, “If you can’t pay attention, you should turn your music down” (yeah, I’m turning into Cranky Lecture Woman).
At the time, I was concerned about the fact that I was holding up the person behind me so I got in my car and left. But I should have stuck around a bit and grilled the idiot. It wasn’t like either of us made any quick moves that resulted in the collision. Easily 10 seconds passed between my first honk and the bump. When I started driving, I learned this crazy backing technique where you LOOK at what’s behind you as you move. Maybe I could understand taking your eyes away for a second but 10 seconds? What in the world could he have been looking at? I didn’t see any pretty girls up ahead or any flashing billboards. Perhaps his cd got to the part in the song with his favorite riff and, like most guys, he couldn’t resist playing along with his air guitar. It made me realize how easy it is for criminals to pull that maneuver where two cars block in a victim and if you don’t move quickly, you have nowhere to go.
I’m fairly tolerant of the little mistakes anybody can make but this was just complete carelessness on his part. Luckily nothing was damaged and nobody was hurt- this time- but now I wish I’d harrassed him enough that he’d focus a little more in the future. It probably wouldn’t make a difference, but maybe he’d at least turn his music down a notch.
