Friday, January 11, 2013

Queue Tips: James Bombed

I heard there were some good reviews of "Skyfall".  I've even heard it was the best James Bond film ever.  So far.  It starts in medias res with people dead and shot and the spy in hot pursuit of the all important McGuffin.

They chase through exotic locations, amidst crowds of foreign extras, colliding into their carts and wares and putting their lives in danger.  There are police standing by at the ready, and they join the race without a thought.  Not even a look at each other to say "WTF yo?"

And then Bond and the bad guy ride motorcycles through the rooftops of this village.  And it all goes smoothly.  They even crash into a packed market area, and everybody lines up to either side so they can pass through without hitting anyone.

Then, another agent stops traffic and causes accidents until there is a logjam.  She then gets out and watches the bad guy get away on top of a train.  And no one yells at her for the damage she's done.

And so Bond gets on the train as well, and we get the fighting on top of a moving train scene.  There is a Caterpillar digger thing on the train, and James gets on it.  The bad guy keeps shooting at the metal digger part of it as though he thinks it's going to make a difference.

And stuff like that.

I don't remember the rest of it.  I can't recall the female spy vixen agent's name.  It's probably Connie Lingers or something like that.  Sorry if I spoiled the film for you, but you've probably seen it anyway.  In other movies. 

Skyfall?  More like Skyfail, amirite?  LOLOLOL

Wednesday, January 9, 2013

Presents for the Future

I think Timeout Boy has been playing with the ribbon more than any of his Christmas toys.  He calls it his snake.  It was on the bed one morning, and he yelled at me when I sat on hit.  Meanwhile, I don't know where the rest of his presents are.

Four of them are in the closet.  Still in the box.  He was more into the opening presents part than the actual content.  He would rip the wrappings, throw the paper in the pile, and look for the next gift.  We had to keep stopping him to take pictures.

He didn't notice when I took his two Lego Duplo sets and put them back in the closet.  Just like he didn't notice last year when I took his Hess truck and stored it away.  So now he has two Hess trucks in the closet.  Next year, he gets to open them again, I guess.

Monday, January 7, 2013

Silly nut.

Conversation with Timeout Boy, 3 years old.

Him: I want to watch, Daddy.
Me: Okay, you can watch Daddy.
Him: No, I don't want to watch a people.  I want to watch a DVD.  You silly nut.

Saturday, January 5, 2013

Memory Gland: Itchy Feet

I've slept like a baby the past couple of nights.  That's because I hardly slept the past few nights before that.  I'm a light sleeper.  I usually wake up two or three times a night, and usually I'll go to the bathroom and go right back to sleep.  I have to keep my focus on sleep, or my night is ruined.  So if my wife is still awake - or when her cousin was living with us - I would have to ignore them and the rest of the world, or the sleep switch in my head would turn off and I'll be wide awake all night.

For some reason, sometimes when I wake up at night, my feet would itch.  Then I'll scratch them and go back to sleep.  But then they'll itch again and wake me.  And again and again until I get pissed off and can't sleep anymore.  This is what happened earlier this week.

I'm not sure why that is.  I'd put lotion on it.  I'd put anti-itch cream.  I would sit in the tub and scrub and scrub.  But in the middle of the night, it would still happen.

In the morning, while I was putting on my shoes getting ready for work, I remembered having itchy feet as a child.  I was eight years old or younger.  It was New Year's Day.  My mom and I were getting ready for church.  I have to idea where my dad was, or my two older brothers.

I didn't wear shoes often as a kid.  Like most kids in the Philippines, I always wore slippers, or flip flops, or tsinelas in Tagalog.  So when I put on shoes that day, I was uncomfortable and my big toe was itchy.

I was whining, even crying about it.  And my mother said that I shouldn't be crying on New Year's Day, because that means I'll be crying all year.  Since then, I always thought whatever you did that day, you'll be doing all year.  I don't remember how the rest of that day went, or the year, for that matter.

Anyways, I thought hard about my current situation.  I realized I had been having some terrible dreams before waking up.  Nothing nightmarish or anything.  More like worrysome.  About trivial things.  For example, I had been digitizing some video tapes into my hard drive, and I had a dream about that, where I was all confused in trying to organize the tapes.  Stuff like that.  I would be all anxious and wake up.  Then my feet would itch.

One of my dreams was a vague one about a saw cutting wood.  Like nothing else but that.  I wasn't even doing it, and I don't know who was doing it.

Anyways, I thought about it some more, and I realized I hadn't been so organized at work recently.  I haven't been keeping track of my projects.  So I made a list of my tasks and priorities, and that seemed to help clear my mind.

I slept very well the next couple of nights.  But my dreams were still weird.

In one of them, I was with another person, and we brought a live cow to this guy's house.  The live cow was to replace a dead cow in someone's living room.  That person opened his front door, and he was telling us that the one he had was fine or something.  He was an older man, and he had a distinct hook-shaped nose.  He kind of looked like maybe an actor from a Scorsese picture.  And then he was eating off an opening from the dead cow's body.

Later on, I was eating with a man and a woman at a small diner.  We were talking and there was some noise, and the woman casually said something like, "I wish you would close the bathroom door" across the room.  And then I looked over and realized that the open door in the corner was the bathroom door, and whoever were there closed it.  Suddenly we could hear ourselves clearly, and I remember thinking, so that's where that noise was coming from.  And then the woman somehow ended up sitting at another table at another corner of the place, and I noticed that she was overweight.  She hailed over a worker there, and I think she paid our bill.

Later on, the man I was with, who was an older man, but maybe not the same guy from before, was in our house.  He was kind of jumping on our bed and on my son's crib, just like my son would.  There are some other details that I've forgotten.

And then I woke up.