joke of the day #3

Q: Which herbivorous marsupial, native to forested regions in Australia and other parts of Oceania, ironically carries its young in its uterus for an abbreviated gestation period lasting just 26-28 days, after which the young continue to develop in the mother's pouch as is common for most if not all marsupials?

A: The womb-at.

roosting

So, if you're one of those people who automatically checks the time when a blog entry is written, you'll see that I'm writing this at 5 am. (Is that what it says? I think this Blogspot site is on Singapore time or something. Just take my word for it: it's 5 am.) And I am not an early riser! Not at all! So, how did this happen?

Roosting. It's a term I've coined to describe falling asleep on your couch without intending to, then waking up in the middle of the night and stumbling to your actual bed. Except, sometimes when I roost, I have a hard time getting to sleep again. In fact, I'm totally wired right now. I feel more alive than I ever have before! But I just want to feel sleepy, so I don't end up snoozing until the afternoon tomorrow.

I don't roost often, maybe once every 3-4 months. And it's usually by accident. Here's what happened to me today: dropped my car off this morning to get snow tires, since it's winter now in Mad City but they don't maintain the roads worth a damn. (My street is a sheet of ice! Literally! Maybe I'll post a photo tomorrow.) Took the bus to work. Worked all day. Went to the gym after work. Tried to take the bus home, which was not as easy as taking the bus to work since it was about 8 pm and the Mad City buses don't run as frequently then. It ended up taking me an hour to get home, and it was freezing. I basically huddled and shivered within my coat for an hour. I felt wiped out. Then I ate a bunch of leftover, tryptophan-laden Thanksgiving turkey, since it's now over a week since T'giving and I'm trying to finish those leftovers off. Then I sat on the couch to relax a little and get ready to watch "The Prestige" on DVD. Then I stretched out on the couch. Then, the next thing I knew, it was 3:30 am.

If I had gone straight from the couch to bed, I might have been groggy enough still to fall back asleep right away. But I had a bunch of turkey stuck in my teeth, so I felt obligated to brush and floss first.

And FYI, roosters aren't the only things that roost. Bats do, too. Also, more noble birds like the great horned owl and the golden eagle, and other lethal raptors. So yes, you can think of me as a "rooster" right now. But please keep in mind that birds-of-prey roost, too. Often, with pieces of prey stuck in their teeth ...

i'm in

As everyone knows, the most magical shopping season of the year is now underway. And in honor of that occasion, I would like to offer a special deal: become a member of the National Bone Marrow Registry. Only $52! Ethnic minorities may be able to join for free! And sometimes they even offer special discounts for white folks, too.

Now, I know what a lot of you are thinking: "Is he blogging about the NBMR again? Haven't we heard enough about this already? How about a Joke of the Day instead?" True, I have advocated for the registry before. But this time there's a catch: you get a chance to be my sponsor.

You see, ever since the triathlon here in Mad City a few months ago (see my 9/13 entry), I've been kicking around the idea of attempting one of those nightmarish endurance events. As I mentioned before, registration for the 2009 triathlon here filled up quicker than you can say "Mad City," and I was left out in the cold. (Probably for the best, though. I would perish if I tried a regulation, bona fide triathlon. I wouldn't stand a chance. Game over, man.)

So, what I've been doing instead is writing random numbers on the side of my leg with a Sharpie before my daily jog. For a while it actually made me feel like a real triathlete. But lately the thrill has worn off, and I decided it was time to bite the bullet. So, I am now registered for the Ironman 70.3 Boise next June. The 70.3 stands for the length of the race, which is half a full-length triathlon. I guess that means I won't be a real Ironman. (Iron Baby? Iron Tween?) But it's more than enough triathlon for me. Trust me.

So here's the deal: I am looking for supporters. To be a member of Team Trevor, all you need to do is sign up for the NBMR. No need to send me cash and wonder what I'll do with it, like that debacle with the 5K race back in 2002. And if you're already signed up for the NBMR ... well, you're hosed. I'm only taking new signees. (No, just kidding. Just donate $50 or more to the NBMR, or the Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center, or some other organization involved in bone marrow transplant work, and you're in! A two-dollar savings on the regular cost! What a deal! Woo woo!) Just sign up, or donate, and then let me know so I can add you to the list. My goal: 100 sponsors. I'll keep a "running" tally here.

So, what was the inspiration for this? Well, there's actually several factors. People who read this blog are probably also familiar by now with Steve Rider's blog, and are cheering him on as he prepares for his stem cell transplant. But that's not the whole story. Would I swim 1.2 miles for Steve? Absolutely. Would I then bike 56 miles for Steve? Ummm ... all right. Sure, yeah. He's a David Cronenberg fan, after all. Would I then run 13.1 miles for Steve? Are you insane??? I just met him a few months ago! I wouldn't even do that for his sister! Although, I would be happy to hand off the baton to one of Steve's friends, if it was like a relay effort and they were prepared to take over after the bike stage (or better yet, the swim stage).

But in all seriousness, Steve is a very decent and well-liked guy, and it's awesome that they found a good match for him on the NBMR. But there are also a couple other motivating factors for me:

1. As an oncologist-to-be, I order a lot of palliative chemotherapy to help people live a few months or maybe a few years longer. It's an honor to be able to do this for patients. But at the same time, an allogeneic stem cell transplant is potentially curative for a variety of hematologic diseases, and that's a very appealing thing.

2. My mother passed away about 6 months ago from primary myelofibrosis, a rare hematologic malignancy. She wasn't a candidate for a stem cell transplant (the usual age limit is 60-65 years), but it could be a treatment option for others with this disease.

3. It just seemed like a good thing to do.

All right, enough talk. Let's start recruiting! Really, what better Xmas present can you give a loved one, than joining the NBMR? Put it to them this way: "Look, I know you really wanted that iPod Nano. But if you ever get really sick and need a bone marrow transplant ... I've already got you covered."

the best movie named "crash"

I like to pride myself on my knowledge of the cinema, but sometimes I don't see movies as promptly as I should. When possible, I try to rectify that via DVD. So last night I watched "Crash," winner of the Academy Award for Best Picture in 2005.

My thoughts: well, my first thought was, "How did this thing win Best Picture?" Director/screenwriter Paul Haggis certainly meant well, aiming to expose the cultural and racial stereotypes that prevail in daily life in LA, and their sometimes tragic consequences. Also, I'm a big fan of Don Cheadle, so it was good to see him. And watching the tandem of Terrence Howard and Ludacris, it was easy to see why they'd work so well together later in "Hustle and Flow."

But sweet Jesus, how did this thing win Best Picture? It's only been out a few years, and already it feels incredibly dated. Like someone's delayed response to the Rodney King trial and the LA riots, made with the earnest conviction that it would actually create lasting racial harmony in LA. Here's kind of how the scenes went: Asian woman and Hispanic woman insult each other. White man and black man insult each other. White man and Asian woman talk about Jewish people. Jewish man and Aboriginal woman make love. Aboriginal man, black man, and white woman have a 3-way argument. Asian teen and Latino grandmother reconcile. Black cop shoots mixed-race pedestrian. Multi-ethnic group hug. And repeat.

(I'm sorry. It just felt very contrived and unrealistic to me. I'm sorry if you're someone who liked the movie. Feel free to make fun of one of my favorite movies, like "Scorpion King II: Rise of a Warrior.")

But you know what's really sad about "Crash?" The fact that it stole the title from a much better movie. I'm referring to David Cronenberg's 1996 adaptation of the J.G. Ballard book about people who are sexually aroused by car crashes. Do you remember all the controversy when that movie came out? Probably not. Because when you think of movies named "Crash" now, you probably think first of the Paul Haggis one.

But as with many movies that provoke controversy and outrage among people who never actually see said movie, there was so much to like about the other "Crash." To begin with, you've got David Cronenberg directing and James Spader in the lead role. Come on! That's awesome. They were both in their primes, too. Deborah Kara Unger proved to be one of the sexiest beasts to ever grace the silver screen; and Holly Hunter, Rosanna Arquette, and Elias Koteas also turn in strong performances. The creepy soundtrack by Howard Shore is absolutely riveting, the perfect counterpart to the dark psychodrama that unfolds.

I don't even know how to characterize this dang movie! Was it science fiction? Film noir? A dark psychodrama? A foreign film? (It's set in Toronto.) Auto erotica? I just don't know. If I was a video store clerk, I don't know where I would put this movie. All I know is, it was creepy and beautiful and ultimately ... uplifting. If you're the kind of person who's only uplifted by "Beaches," maybe it's not for you. But as for me, I was strangely uplifted.

P.S. I don't really like "Scorpion King II: Rise of a Warrior."

million dollar baby

I don't know if I've mentioned my old friend and roommate Chris Volinsky before ... but I will be mentioning him a lot more often now. Because the dude went and got himself profiled in the NY Times over the weekend! Boo yah!

It seems that Chris, who is also known as CTV and who works as some type of smart employee for AT&T in New Jersey, has been competing in a contest sponsored by Netflix. The challenge is to improve Netflix's "recommendation engine," which is a computer program designed to read your mind and figure out what other movies you might like when you choose one. All manner of computer scientists and tech wizards and so forth have been competing at this thing, and for a good reason: the grand prize is a cool $1 million. Chris hasn't said what he's going to do with the money if he wins, but I do hope that part of his plans will be helping a brother out.

Chris and his ad hoc team from AT&T were in 1st place for a while, but apparently they got thrown off track by "Miss Congeniality." Is it a crime thriller? Comedy? Chick flick? They couldn't figure it out, in spite of their combined Ph.D brain wattage. So now they're playing catch-up, I guess.

I would like to wish them well, except there's just one problem: I am viscerally opposed to what they're doing! Remember the movie "Terminator?" Remember how they made the computers so smart that they finally figured out that mankind was obsolete, and declared war on mankind? And sent Arnold Schwarzenegger back in time to knock off Linda Hamilton? Well, I am totally against anything that's going to bring us closer to that point. Oh, and "War Games." Remember that movie? Matthew Broderick? Same type of scenario. It could happen so easily.

And also, should we really be strengthening the hand of these upstart Internet companies like Netflix, that only deal with customers through the mail? What's going to happen to the small neighborhood businesses that keep our communities glued together, like Blockbuster and Hollywood Video? Did you think about that before unleashing your nefarious talents, Chris?

I just realized something: now Chris knows that I like "Terminator." Great, just great! Why should I even bother picking out my own DVD's anymore? He's probably already compiled a list of all my potential favorites ...

joke of the day #2

Who came up with these library fines? What's up with that? You mean you're going to take my money for not returning books, CD's, videos, and other borrowed library materials before their due date? Well I'm not "fine" with that at all!

facebook

Some months ago, people, I started getting random "friend requests" in my email, from people I'd already considered to be my friends. It took me a while to figure out what was going on: Facebook. Now, if you're technically and culturally savvy enough to be reading this blog, I probably don't need to explain Facebook to you. But for those who somehow accidentally blundered their way aboard here, Facebook is a social networking site that's now enjoyed by millions of people. And not just in the US: Canada too! It's published in the English language, and you can put photos and videos on there, and it's cool. I'm not sure how it's different from Myspace - I just know it is. And I think Facebook is cooler, because I don't have a Myspace account.

I guess I have a little confession to make: I've become a Facebook addict. In a way it's not much different than email, but I've suddenly found myself in touch with people who never would return my emails before. Well, maybe "in touch" is not the most accurate term. I can still write to them, but also now I can look through their personal online photos, and try to become friends with their friends, and post ribald comments on their profiles, and so forth. It's awesome.

On the down side, messing around on Facebook makes me feel like a 12-year-old girl. But on the plus side, messing around on Facebook makes me feel like a beautiful, popular 12-year-old girl. Oh, how I wish I could do junior high school all over again! I would rule that place like Vanessa Hudgens on Ritalin.

I not only had a confession to make tonight, but a little boasting to make as well. The last time I checked, I had nearly 85 Facebook friends. I've calculated that I'll reach 100 friends by the end of 2008 (provided there's a little extra holiday cheer in people's hearts this year).

That's right - triple digits.

You know, people, there's a word for someone who has more than 100 friends on Facebook. And that word is "winner." And my list includes 5 ethnicities! I've got people from 5 different ethnic groups on my friends list, and that doesn't even count white people. I guess you could say I am rich with ethnic diversity.

And yes, I know there are others out there who count 5 or 6 or even 7 hundred people on their friends lists. But believe me when I say that my list is legit. I didn't pay anyone to enlist. And while I have begrudgingly permitted a few stragglers and vagabonds to set up temporary residence there (just where the heck did you come from, "Ellen Dennie-Beausang"???), by and large these are people who know me well and vice versa. I've broken bread with them, shared stories with them, babysat their kids, stroked their hair and murmured soothing words as they vomited in the gutter, and just generally been there for them. I've never slept with anyone just to get them to sign up for my friends list, and I rarely use the "People You may Know" feature.

It's legit, I tell you. And if you're reading this, and you're not one of my Facebook friends yet, you should know that I'm offering a special prize to the individual who becomes my 100th friend. The winner will be announced at 12:01 am on Jan. 1 ... on Facebook.