"…#2"

"What color were you thinking here? Tangerine? Burnt umber?"

I'd heard that was a half-truth

Not directly relevant, but reminds me of one of my favorite lines in The Grinder, when Rob Lowe's old flame from high school sees him again: "Wow, you look exactly the same! Like… kind of creepy the same…"

Everybody was kung fu mee- ting!
Nazi fucks took well-earned bea- tings!

Good lord, how many times in these last 7 months have I muttered something like, "If this were a fiction story I'd tell the person to rewrite it, because it's so lazy and obvious."

I don't know what it is about his delivery, but JJ's "OH MY FUCKING GOD!" when he finds out there's a goofy "camp reunion" shirt for him, too, just keeps cracking me up.

I have a 4-year-old and a 2-year-old, and I say to myself almost daily, "Someday, as sure as I've ever known anything, they are going to ask me what I did during this time. What actions did I take, where did I speak out. And I better have a good god damn answer."

We have reached a reality where all caps is the only reasonable response.

Bill Murray once said something like, "If you want to be rich and famous, try rich. See if that doesn't take care of most of your needs."

Hopefully he can't enter the code because he gets distracted mid-code and ends up trying to enter something like, "Password123 you know I really have amazing passwords just really believe me unbelievable my the electoral votes everyone said I couldn't win but I did bigly Mexicans are scary the best passwords they…

1. What was the name of your first childhood monster.
2. What was your monster-in-law's maiden name?
3. On what street did your monster live as a child?

"Omigod, can I just tell you—"
"IT'S 9:30 AND I HAVEN'T HAD COFFEE. MY FUCKING HEAD FEELS LIKE IT'S FULL OF RADIOACTIVE COTTON. MAKE MY FUCKING LATTE. Sorry. I'm sorry. You were saying something?"
"…nothing…"

I remember reading something - possibly on this very site - about Paul McCartney, and it started by positing what it must be like: if you go get a latte, the barista is going to talk about that exchange for years and years. Such opportunity, and such burden.

They're not big on the selling end. I loved their description when they were starting The Man Who Wasn't There : "It's about a barber who wants to be a launderer."

Soon it will only be one thing.

Yeah, but then you're up all night. With streaming, it freezes up, then buffers for long enough that you just give up and go to bed. It does wonders for getting sufficient sleep!

WHAMtech! BAMtech! I am! I MANtech!

I live in the town that's the designated evacuation/emergency HQ if there's ever a massive disaster in Portland, Oregon. I feel nervous and I feel ashamed that occasionally I think things like, "Well, Seattle, SF, and LA are all certainly bigger targets…"

I'm currently struggling with some pretty severe depression, and my wife, unfortunately, was firmly raised in the "just work through it"/"Why are you being so self-centered?" school of thought. It does not make it any easier.