Swordfish

A couple years ago, I started password-protecting stories about my students so I wouldn’t get dooced, and occasionally I lock down a post about a boy and/or a dirty thing I do. My friends have the password. So does my dad, so he gets to read about the dirty things.

Awk-ward.

Anyway, I have a lot of friends, and I’ve made friends, friends who wanted the password, so I gave it to them. A person here, a person there, and it’s gotten a little unwieldy.

It’s not that I regret giving anyone the password—basically, I just need a list of who has the it, so in case somebody blabs, I’ll know whose bed to short-sheet. Or at least which 30 beds to start with.

So it’s time to reset. New password. Ready? And the password is—

Jk, you have to send me a message to get it.

(Dad, you can still have the password/read about the dirty things. Even though it’s awkward.)

Things I Find Highly Satisfying

1. My dogs.

Violet.
Redford.

2. My foster dog.

Tulip.

3.Other peoples’ dogs.

4. Neti pot. (I know I’m going to die from brain amoebae, but in the meantime, it’s really satisfying to go from not breathing to breathing with just a little bit of salt water.)

5. Pictures of dogs.

6. Roomba.

Magic cleaning robot.

7. When I drop by my sister’s house and one of the kids goes, “Nunu, could you stay for supper? Pleeeeeeaase?” like I’d be doing them a big favor.

8. Pictures of puppies.

9. iPhone.

 

Magic communication robot.

10. Hoodie-and-flip-flop weather.

11. A well-executed ally-oop.

12. A perfectly sharp #2 Ticonderoga.

Best writing implement ever.

13. The fact that my brother married the woman I chose for him.

14. My deck.

15. The picnic table my brother built me for my birthday a couple years ago. On my deck.

Aw. This fits #15 AND #8.

(I hope that stray puppy found a fur-ever home.)

16. The This American Life podcast.

17. Sunday brunch buffet at Geer Street Garden.

18. My sister’s cooking.

What about you?

Ask the AB: How to Tip Your Waitress

In this segment of our broadcast, I like to answer questions asked by the audience. Also questions asked by no one, as is the case in this one. This particular post is dedicated to waiters/waitresses/ waitrons/servers/people-who’ll-be-taking-care-of-you-tonight and contains a few brief lessons on how to tip them.

Step 1: Tip them.

That’s right. We live in America. I don’t care if you’re from another country, or your mama raised you thrifty, or in your American subculture “we don’t tip”. Tip the damn waitress.

Maybe you think you don’t need to. Waiting tables is not that hard, right? Well, other than being personable, remembering orders, entering them into a computer, dealing with kitchen staff (which can be a challenge, cain’t it, Margo?), delivering food and drinks, making sure the customers’ needs are met, and being on their feet all night, you’re right. Nothing to it.

Step 2: Tip them 20%. 

That’s right. We live in America. A standard tip is now 20%. If the service is truly shitty, talk to the manager. Otherwise, look at the total on your bill, shift the decimal one place to the left, and then double that amount.

Maybe you think you don’t need to. They get a paycheck after all. Yes. Guess how much the hourly wage for a server is in NC. Two dollars and thirteen cents an hour.

$2.13

Employers are allowed to do that because it’s assumed waitstaff will receive tips. (See Step #1.)

[If at your Sunday brunch you think, “It’s a buffet! They don’t have to do that much!”, remember they still have to be there, and they’re still getting paid $2.13 an hour.]

Step 3: Tip them cash.

I know, I know—we live in America. We like to pay with plastic. Pay the tip in cash.

Maybe you think you don’t need to. But sometimes, when the customers have been drunk and belligerent, and the kitchen has screwed up a couple orders, and the servers have had to bus and reset all their own tables the whole shift because the busboy got busted for having a pound of weed in his Tercel, that wad of cash is the only thing that’ll make them get out of bed and serve your ass again the next day.

There you go. You didn’t ask the Avid Bruxist, and I graciously answered.

The 521 Slim Taper

I’m a terrible market-ee. Sometimes people will post about the ads that are popping up on their Facebook page or whatever, and every time, I’m like, “There are ads on Facebook?” Swear to god, I never look at the sidebars. It’s like I have a special talent for blocking out advertising.

And yet. In the last week, I’ve noticed

this photo has popped up for me on a number of sites.

Now, why am I noticing this one?

Could be because they’re dudes’ jeans, and I’m wondering why they’re advertising men’s clothing to me?

Could be. But it’s probably because THEY’RE THE UGLIEST THINGS I’VE EVER SEEN.

I’m no fashion plate, clearly, but does anyone not think these are heinous?

The Movie Recap You’ve All Been Wayting For

My friend Matt does hilarious recaps and reviews of terrible movies over at head_of_fema. (My favorite: Sharktopus. And yes, it’s exactly what you think it is.) He invited me over to watch a terrible movie and do a little dueling blog action, and I decided to give it a shot.

We debated between Barbarella and Bloodrayne 3: Third Reich, and ended up choosing the latter because I felt like there might be another time in my life that I would have the opportunity to see Barbarella, but I couldn’t imagine any other circumstances under which I would see the third installment in the Bloodrayne series.

I let Matt know that I had not seen the first two movies, but he said that didn’t matter because turns out, the setting, character arc, and rules of vampirism are all completely different in each movie.

[UPDATE: After several reader complaints, I must amend this post to make you aware that it contains spoilers. A lot of ’em. All of ’em.]

We begin. In a gauzy opening sequence, Rayne’s voice-over explains her origin mythology: vampire dad raped mom who then gave birth to half-vampire baby Rayne. Didn’t know that could happen, but it totally can. Meanwhile, another monster—besides herself, I guess—is on the rise: HITLER. Yes.

Lots of scenes of Jews walking into warehouses, working, standing in boxcars when suddenly—

Head Nazi: “Why isn’t this fucking train moving?” You want to know why the train isn’t moving? Because a pair of giant tits with swords is ready to take issue with your treatment of those Jews. Rayne and her breasts pull some whirling, kicking Cuisinart action on those Nazis.

Slice!

Dice!

And machine guns!

Wait, what? Here’s what: Just when Rayne had decided to whoop some ass, a rebel group had the same idea. That’s where the machine guns came from. Serendipitous teamwork high-five!

Rayne impales an officer and bites the shit out of his neck. He will henceforth be referred to as NVC (Nazi Vampire Commandant), which is kind of a misnomer because I guess he doesn’t become a full-on vampire, more sort of a vamp-mestizo. Like, he can go out during the day as long as he’s wearing a leather hoodie.

Cut to a different officer who enters an operating room to find Ron Howard’s brother (Dr. RHB from now on) poking and prodding a tethered vampire and speaking in an accent that can only be described as half-The Brain/half-Cheech.

The officer and Dr. RHB go to see NVC, who beats the crap out of them both. Dr. RHB is spared only when he shouts, “I can help you with your transition!” (“Like a tranny,” Matt says.)

Rayne meanwhile is getting a sexy massage in a whorehouse. She takes a break to give a john who is beating up his lady of the night a taste of his own medicine. Then she goes back to her room and gets Appreciation Cunnilingus from another of the hookers.

An enterprising whore goes to ask NVC for help ousting the madame, whose position she’d like to usurp, in exchange offering information on Rayne’s whereabouts. NVC is looking for Rayne because he wants to inject her blood into Hitler to make him even more powerful. It’s unclear how the whore would know that, but that’s what’s up. NVC snacks on the prostitute’s neck, and Dr. RHB puts her in a cage and tells her, “Times, they are a-changing.” Oh yes he does.

This sentiment is echoed in the next scene when Rayne tells Nathaniel, leader of the insurgent group, “I’ve been hunting down the undead for a long time. It’s about to get seriously fucking complicated.”

Word. I got mad confused after that. I don’t know, a blond codebreaker kills an officer; NVC bites a different one and sends him to track Rayne; the codebreaker gets kidnapped; NVC makes a speech about tricking the gods.

Rayne says, “In war, emotions run high, and it should.” The high emotions must’ve caused the parallel structure problems in that line of dialogue.

Nathaniel and Rayne are captured and put in the back of a truck. So they have sex. Then when the truck crashes, they jump out, ’cause the door wasn’t locked. The rebel group comes down, guns a-blazin’. Rayne gets her swords back(?), and—slash—a Nazi’s guts come out like sausage links. Dr. RHB gets shot. NVC shouts, “I AM THE PRODIGAL SON OF THE THIRD REICH. I HAVE POWER INCARNATE,” so Rayne throws him to the ground and smashes his head with a big rock. I would have too because what did that even mean?

The rebels and Rayne go off in search of more Nazis. And when they find some, Rayne jumps out of the truck with a hearty “Guten tag, motherfuckers!”

The end.

I know I have a lot to learn from the head_of_fema, but for my first try, how’d I do?

Tell I What You Think

Wading through those muddy waters of grammar again….

Do you see anything wrong with the following sentences?

He wrote to Sarah and I to tell us he was OK.

They rode with Bob and I to the concert.

Everyone from my students to my peers to Our Esteemed President, Barack Obama, is a little confused about when to use the pronoun ‘I’. I think people over-use it because they think it sounds distinguished. But to me, it sounds wrong.

For example, I’ve heard Obama say things like, This has been a great experience for Michelle and I.

My friends even say, She came to Rob and I’s party.

(shiver)

But take the other person out of the equation for a second. Would you ever say, This has been a great experience for I or She came to I’s party?

No. You’d say “for me” and “to my party”. Thus, you should say, This has been a great experience for Michelle and me, and She came to Rob’s and my party.

When is it appropriate to use the pronoun ‘I’?

  • When it’s the subject of your sentence: Michelle and I had a great experience. 
  • …Even if the subject comes after the verb ‘to be’: It is I. 
  • After ‘than’: She is stronger than I. (This one could be confusing, but just think, She is stronger than I am. You wouldn’t say “stronger than me am”.)

This is I’s understanding of the rules. Am me right or wrong on this one?

My Apologies!

Sorry for all the password-protected posts of late.

Lots of business brewing in the world of the Great (or, Fair-to-Middling) and Powerful (or, Effective When It’s Absolutely Necessary and Not Too Difficult) Avid Bruxist. Work stuff. Things I had to get out of my head and into word form but things I don’t feel comfortable putting out to the whole world.

Yet.

I promise it’ll all be in the book. Which will be published when I figure out how to write a book and get an agent and a publisher.

Back to regular programming as soon as I think of something to write about.

(As I’ve mentioned, many of you can read the password-protected posts.)

Ask the AB: Van’s Gluten-Free Frozen Waffles

Let me be clear. I review food (“DELICIOUS!”) like I review art (“PRETTY!”). Regarding yesterday’s review, my friend/web ninja was like, “OK, everything you said in the second video needed to be in the first 30 seconds of the first video.” And he gave me a bunch of suggestions about who to watch and emulate. I’m gonna get on that.

Probably.

At some point.

Can’t I just say, “It’s YUMMY! You should BUY it and EAT it!”? Like I do here?

 

New Feature: Video Reviews!

You asked the Avid Bruxist! (No, you didn’t!) Here’s your first review: Mellow Mushroom Gluten-Free Pizza

For my video debut, I probably should’ve showered, or put on some make-up, or closed the window so you wouldn’t hear the traffic, but Redford makes an awesome cameo (of sorts) in this one, so I just had to post it.

I forgot one thing:

I not only have a blog; I have a vlog. I’m a vlogger. I vlog.

Amy, the Tech-Monkey

Dammit, why is WordPress not showing the categories at the bottom of my blog posts? I checked the boxes on the admin page!

It must be nice to be my ex or my former roommate. When something like this happens, they’re all, “Well, the configuration of the hyperplex is faulty; all you need is a DPN number. Just barrage the H7 code, and voila!”

Me, I’m all, “Maybe it’ll work if I click harder in the little square!”

(Bobby/Dan, help.)