I've Got A Time Bomb

2010 is coming to a close and it has been a big year for us at TT.TKO. Mattie and I started recording shows for our own entertainment a little over two years ago. We didn’t really start posting podcasts until September ’09. It seemed like once we got on iTunes things started taking off a little.

We opened the year with the GA-GA-GA-GA-GAUNTLET!!!! It seems we may be revisiting it in 2011. Shortly after the gauntlet we were also introduced to the fourth member of the TT.TKO crew, lil’ miss Amy. She is totally going to hit me for calling her “Lil’ Miss” but it is totally worth it.

The podcasts kept rolling and soon there after Mattie was engaged to the lovely Virginia. The jerk told me through a text message. A few weeks later we launched TTMainstage.com. Now we had more podcasts and blogs hitting the series of tubes that we know as the “internet”.

We rocked RT Philly by giving away shirts, yelling, letting the people put random words in a bucket (seriously there are only so many ways to write “dongs”), more yelling and meeting a lot of great people. TTMainstage.com became TTTKO.com thanks to a drunken night and a week of confusion.

Now we are back to producing podcasts, blogs, videos and comics. We aren’t done yet. We wouldn’t be doing this if you weren’t reading, listening and watching. We hope to keep you awesome mutha tinkers entertained well on through 2011.

Thanks and Merry New Year!

New Year's Revolution

I’m bad with dates. By that I don’t mean going out with cute boys-- I’m a fantastic date. No, I mean months, days, years. I always had the most trouble with remembering time periods and dates in history classes. They just all blend together-- did something happen in 1824 or 1928? Couldn’t tell you.

In the same vein, I have no idea what happened in 2010 vs. 2009 or even earlier. I can only be sure a given event didn’t take place in 2011 because I haven’t mastered the art of time travel (yet). So it’s hard for me to compile a list of the best movies, music, books, et cetera, from the past twelve months.

Instead I give you this: a list of some stuff I discovered or enjoyed this year, regardless of release date, in no particular order.

Top Chef All Stars
I’ve watched most every season of Top Chef, and this one is by far providing me with the most entertainment. Typically it takes several episodes to even learn the cheftestants’ (I love that word) names, but this time I’m familiar with all these folks and all this drama from day one.


Cougartown
The show no one will watch because it has a stupid name is actually really, really funny. I was hesitant at first, but now that I’ve caught up on it, it's one of my favorite comedies. Parks and Recreation almost makes the list for similar reasons-- check it out when it returns in the spring.

The month of January
It was a good one.

Harry Potter
I don’t think that the Deathly Hallows Part I tops my list of favorite Harry Potter movies, but it was still an exciting lead up to this upcoming summer's finale. And I'll never turn down a midnight showing, complete with nerdy t-shirts.

TT.TKO [The Podcast]
I can’t technically unbiasedly call TT.TKO my favorite podcast of the year, but I'm going to call it that anyway.

Anchovies
I’m on an adventurous eating kick, and I’d call whole anchovies at least reasonably adventurous. I’m a little bit obsessed with grilled Caesar salad anywhere I can find it.

Braves baseball
I’m slowly but surely getting over my irrational dislike of all Atlanta sports teams that stemmed from my own watered-down brand of teenage rebellion against my Braves-loving parents. I think my record was 6 for 8 in games I attended this year. With any luck next season will be even better.

Cute dresses
No one who knew me in my t-shirt-and-jeans high school days would believe my closet now, but I make this look good.

Running
I picked it up in June, ran my first 5K in July and now my foot hurts and I can’t run ‘til it stops or I bother to go see a doctor, but whatever. I still dig it.

Netflix
Best $10 a month you can spend.

40 Dogs (Romeo & Juliet) by Bob Schneider
I Shazaamed the song when it was on the radio in maybe January and kept it on repeat most of the spring. Now it's the song with the second highest playcount in my iTunes library, only two plays behind the Avett Brothers' Distraction #74. Check it out.

TT.TKO [The Blog]
Well we have fun with it.

2011 had better bring its A-game. Just sayin'.

Rock 'N Roll High School

MTV doesn’t play music anymore. They haven’t for a long time. VH1 held out a bit longer, but Celebrity Rehab sells more adspace than Wilson Phillips music videos ever could. So where are you supposed to get your fix of bands on TV these days? Reruns, that’s where.

Television has a long and storied history of writing plotlines around bands. I bet Fonzie was in a band at some point on Happy Days, but I’m far too busy to consult Wikipedia. In any case, you need look no further than syndicated reruns or your DVD collection to find your jam.

• The Beets
  These colorful rockers were the real deal, whether they were playing arena shows or outside the Honker Burger. Based on a variety of British invasion bands, these were Doug and Skeeter’s idols, deservedly so. “I Need Mo’ Allowance”? “Killer Tofu”? Come on. The Beets were the shit. Apparently when Doug transitioned from its Nickelodeon heyday to its Disney purgatory, the Beets broke up. In protest? I’d like to think so.
  
• Zack Attack
  Hot Sundae crashed and burned when Jessie couldn’t kick her addiction, but the Zack Attack were friends forever. Or were they? We all remember the Behind The Music-esque episode about the rise and more notably, fall, of the BFFs-turned-rock-band. Still, throughout Saved By The Bell’s run, the Zack Attack appeared in a number of episodes, providing a soundtrack for Zack and Kelly’s tearjerker of a breakup and allowing us all to wonder why AC Slater sounds like Peabo Bryson when he sings.
  
• California Dreams
  This lesser known part of the Peter Engel family didn’t just feature a band, it was about a band. The Dreams were a beachy-cool rock band full of teenagers who faced all the same problems the Saved By The Bell gang faced, only they were in California. Wait a second. In any case, I still get some of their songs stuck in my head, and am currently wondering why I’ve never tried to acquire the soundtrack.
  
• Dingoes Ate My Baby
  Every laconic, spike-haired high schooler in the late ‘90s was in a band, and Daniel “Oz” Osbourne was no exception. Dingoes Ate My Baby appeared on the Buffy The Vampire Slayer scene when Oz did, simultaneously developing his character and allowing some consistency to the music played every week at the Bronze. The music was really played by Four Star Mary, and the Dingoes provided a nice respite from the usual ‘90s-lesbian-chic music that plagued early Buffy. Above all else, they have a cool name.
  
• Crucifictorious
  Most recently, the band you’ve been missing out on from the show you’re not watching, Friday Night Lights. This Christian death metal band burst onto the small-town scene, rocking all of Texas, or at least like, four or five people. Landry Clark has up and graduated, but Crucifictorious lives on in my heart and, occasionally, my trivia team name. And what a name it is, amiright?

Sadly, all my favorite TV bands seem to have broken up or gotten canceled. I guess I'll just have to hold out hope for another appearance of Mouse Rat when Parks and Recreation returns in the spring. Rock N Roll 4 Life.

Flapjack!

So last night I saw Tron: Legacy with some friends. We went into the theater early and waited patiently for the trailers (which were disappointing). We had been talking, like people do, and messing around with our 3D glasses. At some point, my friend Megan turned to me, and did something. What did she do? She unknowingly sparked a revolution. The movie was okay, but a game was invented that we believe will change the world.

The name of the game is Flapjack.

We have big plans for Flapjack; we believe it will take over the nation. That it will be the Next Big Thing. We envision TV shows, movies, videogames, sports league, special edition Trivial Pursuit games.... all based on Flapjack.

So... how do you play? Simple. All it requires is a finger (preferably index) and another person. You orient yourself so that your finger is within distance of your friend's lips. When the moment is right, you reach out, and you strum your finger over their lips (a la Three Stooges or Looney Toons). This all works best if they have just finished talking or are just about to talk. And that's the Flapjack. Your friend has been Flapjacked, or FJ'd, if you will. Colloquially, it is acceptable to say you have given someone an FJ. An additional rule I'd like to add is that you yell "Flapjack!" once the Flapjack has been accomplished.

This game will change the world. Try it today! Flapjack your friends! Flapjack your family! Flapjack your pets!!

Happy Festivus!

I pretty much air my grievances all the time, on and off the blog, so let's just skip to the Feats of Strength.

I can't wait for you to pin me ;]

And somewhere there's a joke about a pole....



In all seriousness, TT.TKO hopes you had or will have a happy holiday, whatever your proclivity for celebration.

The Ballad of Love and Hate

Michael spoke in the past about things that have a bad reputation but deserve to be given a chance. Some I agreed with; some I did not (I mean, pro-wrestling? Really?). But there are a number of things that I have an unabashed fondness for that everyone else seems to hate.

1. Ugg Boots
I know, I know. Obviously not everyone hates them. They wouldn't be so popular if that were the case. But the majority of my demographic certainly seems to. And the Ugg corporation didn't do themselves any favors when naming their product. However, I think I look damn cute in my chocolate brown $20 Target knockoff Uggs. The closest to snowbunny chic a girl's ever going to get in sunny Georgia, barring last week's frigid temperatures. I'll wear these 'til they're pried from my cold, dead feet.

2. Black Olives
In this case, I have to wonder if other people simply don't have tastebuds. Black olives are and have always been one of my absolute favorites. They're incredible on pizza, amazing on sandwiches and delicious even eaten as a snack, one tasty pitted olive at a time. But it's like pulling teeth getting anyone to share a pizza with my favorite toppings. Whatever. At least this way, I get it all to myself.

3. Ke$ha (And Her Ilk)
Sometimes I feel like all I ever write about is my passion for pop music. Which is funny, because I honestly don't listen to this kind of sugary, Autotuned concoction all that often. It's just that the universal revile of an "artist" like Ke$ha makes her catchy pop treats all the more appealing to me. I'll be out on the dance floor; watch my beer.

4. Anchovies
I don't know that I'd call this a love quite yet. But I'm falling. It all began with the grilled Caesar salad at The Porter in Little 5 Points, and was exacerbated by the delicious chicken Caesar burgers my roommate and I made a few weeks back. It shouldn't come as any surprise that I've come to adore these salty, savory treats, what with my unending olive love. Our affair is just beginning, though, and I've yet to try them on pizza. I'm sure we'll be taking it to the next level shortly.

5. Dawson's Creek
Everyone most certainly didn't hate Dawson's Creek back in 1997, but it's one of my adolescent favorites that hasn't stood the test of time. Which to me, makes it all the better, since I'm working my way through it armed with only my snarky sense of humor on my other blog, Forehead Revisited. But I'll always have a love/hate relationship with this teen soap that edges towards the love side, and not just because Pacey's so dreamy. I grew up with this show, spending every Wednesday night from ages 12 to 17 glued to the TV. It's a nostalgic love, but I'll always feel a little protective of old favorite show. Even if I do love to make fun of it.

If you hate any of the above, that's fine. More for me. But just know you're missing out. Anchovies really do get a bad rap.

That's My Jam

The other day in the car during my long, lonely commute home, a pop song came on the radio. What song it was is unimportant; use your imagination. As the opening chords drifted through my car's admittedly mediocre speaker system, I said out loud to no one, "This is my jam!"

Instantly I was taken aback. When did I become this person who constantly refers to things she enjoys as her "jam"? Every now and then, one must carefully examine one's life, and this was one of those moments. I say this phrase far too often, I deduced, and must be stopped.

As a matter of full disclosure, here is an abridged list of things I have, of late, referred to as "my jam":

Neon Trees, "Animal"

Ke$ha, "Your Love Is My Drug"

Ke$ha, "Tik Tok," only to rescind my declaration upon the realization that the song was not, in fact, "Your Love Is My Drug"

Strawberry preserves purchased by me

Communication

Neon Trees, "Animal" again-- it really is my jam

I need a new expression of appreciation. I can only assume that "That's what I'm talking about" would be every bit as absurd and out of place as "That's my jam." I'm far too ridiculous to ever simply utter, "I enjoy this particular thing, person or song." So I'm out of ideas. If you come up with any replacement catchphrases for me, do let me know.

In the meantime I'll be rocking out to the new Taylor Swift. It's my jam.

The Economics of Film

Seeing movies is a pricey hobby. I mean, it’s not like owning a boat or anything, but those ticket stubs and giant Diet Cokes add up, and in an economy like this one, you can’t just shell out for each and every film that crosses your favorite theater’s threshold. You’ve got to have some kind of a system.

For instance. The latest Harry Potter movie comes out, and I’m willing to pay the full $8.50 to see it at the midnight show rather than waiting for the Saturday afternoon matinee. In fact, I’m even willing to pay the $15 or so it costs to see it in IMAX, if possible. To take it even further, a midnight showing of a film my friends and I are as excited about as we are Harry Potter is an event—we may wind up meeting for dinner beforehand, or at least filling our tankers a time or two at the Movie Tavern. This winds up being a $20-30+ evening.

Then take something like the just-out How Do You Know. I think this looks cute, and I’ll see anything with Paul Rudd’s name on it. It probably won’t warrant a nighttime viewing, however—what am I, made of money? I’ll save it for a matinee on a rainy weekend afternoon.

But then there are movies like The Green Lantern, which I said I’d probably see, but it might get relegated to the dollar theater a couple months after its release. Ryan Reynolds or no, you’ve gotta draw the line somewhere.

My scale goes something like this: IMAX movie event --> Full-price nighttime movie --> Weekend matinee --> $2 theater --> $1 theater --> Talk mom into taking me next time we hang out --> Impulse Redbox rental as I’m walking out of Kroger --> Wait for it to maybe come to Netflix streaming --> Read synopsis on Wikipedia --> Nod and smile when its mentioned in casual conversation.

Or with a movie like Yogi Bear, you go all the way down to the bottom of scale where I laugh derisively at anyone who suggests we go see it.

A girl's gotta have priorities.

COMIC #2!!!!

Here is my second shot at a comic. Click on it to make it bigger. THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID!!!

When The Morning Comes

I’ve never been much for mornings. In the same vein, I’ve never been much for morning shows, either. They’re typically overly-cheery and vapid, the audio equivalent of reading a Cosmo magazine or eating a powdered doughnut. Sugary but insubstantial.

But now that I have a grown-up job, I’ve also gained a grown-up commute. I’m held captive in my car for 40 minutes each way. There’s no means of escape. That’s 80 full minutes every day-- oftentimes more; this is Atlanta, after all—just me, alone with my thoughts and the radio.

At first, I listened to music on my iPod like I always have, but with two 30-45 minute drives a day coupled with our headphone-friendly work environment, I’m honestly all music-ed out. I have an arsenal of podcasts for the long afternoons, but for that drive into work, morning radio is almost unavoidable. Now nearly every morning, I find myself inexplicably tuned into The Bert Show on Q100.

I’ve written before about my questionable taste in music, but you should know that Q100 (“All the hits,” they promise joyfully) is not my radio station of choice. If it’s not Beiber, it’s Usher. If it’s not Usher, it’s that one Pink song where she drinks a lot. I really just don’t dig this stuff. So why do I find myself unable to touch that dial?

Something keeps me coming back. Some voodoo radio witchcraft has made me actively listen to this show. I know these peoples’ names. I am interested in what they have to say. Only I’m not! I can’t be! Why do I keep listening when I know all they’re going to talk about is the best Christmas present to buy for your “hubby” and listeners who have accidentally sexted their bosses and grandmothers? Why can’t I stop listening??

I know why. Stockholm syndrome. I’ve developed an emotional attachment to my captors, and it’s not pretty.

Is there some kind of 12-step program for this?

The TKO's

WHO PICK THE WINNERS???
WE PICK THE WINNERS!!!!
IN YO FACE!!!

Find us on iTunes or download here

'Tis The Season

The holidays are all about giving. Giving to friends, giving to family, giving to charity. I happen to love giving gifts, and I have it on good authority that I’m an excellent gift-giver.

But I don’t want to talk about giving. I want to talk about getting.

Mikey and Mattie covered their best gifts ever on a podcast episode, so if you want to know all about them, you can go ahead and fire up your iTunes and give that a listen.

In the meantime, what were my Christmases like?

One year I received Moon Shoes, Nickelodeon’s low-tech, plastic-and-rubber-bands attempt at simulating low gravity. These were the loudest, clunkiest contraptions ever created and so of course I spent my Christmas day afternoon galumphing around the cul-de-sac, disturbing the neighbors with the terrible sound of hard plastic on cold concrete. Surely my parents regretted this purchase right away.

Technically the best Christmas present I ever received was probably my DSLR. Two Christmases ago I got a Nikon D60 and a couple of lenses, and while I barely used it for the first year I had it out of sheer terror of breaking it with my clumsy recklessness, I use it a lot more now, and surely will well into the future. Unlike the camcorder I received Christmas of maybe 9th grade, when I was sure I was going to be an award-winning filmmaker, which sits in its case to this day, underneath some forgotten shelf in a dusty closet.

The worst gift ever? Probably pajamas picked out by grandparents. Don’t get me wrong; I love pajamas. But I sleep in t-shirts and cute comfy shorts. I don’t need a matching pair of long-sleeved shirts and pants with cartoon reindeer saying “Ho ho ho!” silk-screened onto the front. If you’re going to go that far, at least go all out for the grown-up footie pajamas. But I think I’ll stick to my standard shorts-and-t-shirts, thanks.

Footie pajamas aside, being a grown-up sucks in a lot of key ways, and I think Christmas is one of them. When you’re a kid, it's the best day ever, because you wake up in the morning to all these toys and then you have all day to play with them. As an adult, your Christmas list consists of clothes, and “necessities” like a new DVD player to replace one that broke, or an external hard drive. After the initial unwrapping, you’ve got the whole day ahead of you to... play with your brand-new Gap winter coat? That doesn't sound quite like the makings of the most wonderful day of the year.

This Christmas? Well, I'm hoping for some awesome boots. I still need a football to complete the sporting good store in my car's trunk. What else will be up to Santa. I'm just hoping it won't be coal. Or grandma pajamas. I've been good; I swear.

Well. I'm trying.

Finals Week

This week is finals week. So thousands of students around campus are like behaving total fucktards in preparation. Last minute cramming abounds, and it's a worthless technique.

This technique is more understandable during finals week, that I will grant. But the students in the class I TA seem to think it's TOTALLY AWESOME ALL THE TIME. I anticipate seeing students pretty much non-stop for 7 hours today, because their exam is tomorrow. Again, finals week is okay for that, in my mind.

But I get very annoyed with "my" students. They have a retarded sense of entitlement, like if they don't understand something, that it's not worth doing and someone should just tell them how to do it without producing a single individual thought on the matter. They don't understand that if the only time you put in work is the night before the test, you won't do well. They don't have any homework (it's a class of 300 people, so homework would be unfeasible), and so they think there's no incentive for actually.... trying to understand the material. I don't get it. I DON'T GET IT. WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE?

Then, when I make them do work during tutoring, they get frustrated with the professor, as if it's somehow his fault they don't understand. Granted, professors should get some blame for students not understanding, but I will side with the professor every time when students (frequently) tell me they don't go to class and don't do the work.

The other thing is that these students have MEMORIES LIKE GOLDFISH. For example, there is a mathematical quantity called expected gain, and these kids have been calculating expected gain since WEEK ONE of this fucking class. I will, without a damn doubt, go to tutoring today and have to re-explain expected gain AGAIN.
Out of all the students I tutor with any frequency (and by "frequency" I mean once a month around exam time), maybe three of them can calculate expected gain without help. Maybe. They have been figuring out this expected gain thing literally all semester long. How is it that you can do something hundreds of times over and not remember how to do it??? The answer: they're not really learning how to do it. It's not a deep concept, by any means, and they can't even be bothered to remember what it is, let alone learning what it is.

Anyway.

I also wanted to talk about football, but I'll be brief. You may remember that I've been making predictions on games the past weeks. Last week I went 13-3. So far this week I am 9-5, YIKES. There are still two games today (Holy cow, Metrodome!), so hopefully I'll hit double digit "wins."

But out of my 5 "losses," two of them are head scratchers in my opinion. (1) What the fuck happened to the Jets? They got humiliated on Monday Night Football, and I really thought they'd come out (at home, mind you!) fired up to bounce back from that. Nope. Instead they played a goddamn miserable game against the Dolphins. (2) Really Seahawks? I know you're not a great team. Hell, you're not really that good of a team. But the 49ers? They have been pretty awful lately, and you guys got trounced! Ugh.

Comic!!!

I have been debating for awhile about doing a comic. I did one about a year ago. I am trying a different style this go around.

You Don't Know Me, But I'm Famous

I used to have a dream.

Ever since probably high school, I've aspired to someday be a contestant on Jeopardy. I would watch it weekday evenings before primetime TV, sitting on my couch doing math homework and shouting answers in the form of questions at the television in between problem sets.

Freshman year of college, my roommate and I would videotape Jeopardy when we remembered-- that’s right, these were the olden days, pre-DVR-- and watch it at night, yelling answers at the television screen. This was the exciting season of Ken Jennings, the man who set the record for most consecutive wins on the show. But no matter how many answers good ol’ Ken got right, he couldn’t compete with our favorite week of the season-- College Jeopardy.

Eventually being on College Jeopardy became my goal. The questions tended to skew younger and had a bit more focus on pop culture than standard Jeopardy questions. Each episode usually featured at least one cute, smart boy. And you got to wear your college hoodie. What could be greater? It helped that in our play-along-at-home college dorm room, the record wasn’t Ken’s, or my roommate’s; it was mine.

However, laziness intervened. College Jeopardy week would sneak up on me, and I’d lament never having bothered to find out how you go about auditioning or testing. I’ve since met people who have gone through Jeopardy auditions, and it seems like a lengthy process. Well, maybe next time, I’d think, over and over, for the next four years.

Today, college has come and gone, and so have my chances of ever rocking College Jeopardy. Oh, sure, I could always try out for the regular version. But my utter lack of knowledge of local, US or global geography would surely thwart my efforts. In short, grown-up Jeopardy is just too damn hard.

So I have a new dream. It’s perfect. How can I simultaneously impress the world with my trivial knowledge AND not have to answer any really hard questions? That’s easy: Celebrity Jeopardy.

You’ve seen SNL. It’s not a far cry from the real version. These people are morons. I may not have any idea where the longest river in the world begins, nor do I know the capital of Tanzania. But I’m no moron. I would more or less dominate.

Now there is a little kink in my plan, and I think you may have figured it out. It’s not the aforementioned laziness-- I can fight that when necessary. No, it’s something a bit tougher to surmount-- I don’t know that I could technically be considered a celebrity.

But I’m no quitter. It’s Celebrity Jeopardy or bust. Now all I have to do is figure out how to get famous. You know that as much as I once wanted to, I probably won’t be doing it in the fields of figure skating or professional singing. It’s just not in the cards. So what else could I do? I have a few ideas.

• Reality TV star. It’s cheap; it’s easy; it’s lowest-common-denominator television. All we need is a video camera and I could be a star. I could trick an Atlanta Falcons player into marrying me and then I’ll be a Real Housewife. I’m not having a bunch of babies, so the Octo-mom idea is out. What about the Balloon Boy? I’m sure some Georgia Tech engineering student could make a contraption that I could fly away in.

• I'm practically locally famous for my unending devotion to Diet Coke. Think we could make that happen? I was born to be a Diet Coke spokesperson.
  
• Last ditch effort-- tell all your friends about the blog. Then they read it, love it, tell all their friends, and so on and so forth until the whole world falls madly in love with me and Alex Trebek books me as a professional blogger. Get on it.
  

Just give me a little time. Rome wasn't built in a day, and international superstars aren't created overnight. Look out, Trebek. I've got my eyes on the prize.

Top Gun vs The World

REVVIN' UP YOUR ENGINE
LISTEN TO HER HOWLIN' ROAR
METAL UNDER TENSION
BEGGIN' YOU TO TOUCH AND GO

HIGHWAY TO THE DANGER ZONE
RIGHT INTO THE DANGER ZOOOOOONE

HEADIN'G INTO TWILIGHT
SPREADIN' OUT HER WINGS TONIGHT
SHE GOT YOU JUMPIN' OFF THE TRACK
AND SHOVIN' INTO OVERDRIVE

HIGHWAY TO THE DANGER ZONE
(I'LL TAKE YOU)
RIGHT INTO THE DANGER ZOOOOOONE

YOU'LL NEVER SAY HELL TO YOU
UNTIL YOU GET IT ON THE RED LINE OVERLOAD
YOU'LL NEVER KNOW WHAT YOU CAN DO
UNTIL YOU GET IT UP AS HIGH AS YOU CAN GO

OUT ALONG THE EDGES
ALWAYS WHERE I BURN TO BE
THE FURTHER ON THE EDGE
THE HOTTER THE INTENSITY

HIGHWAY TO THE DANGER ZONE
(GONNA TAKE YOU)
RIGHT INTO THE DANGER ZOOOOOONE


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Short Post Monday

Today is Monday, and it's 5:23pm, and I haven't yet posted a blog. This means one of two things:

1. I've been busy.
2. I forgot.

Believe it or not, today has actually been a result of number 1. Admittedly, I'm a pretty forgetful person (YEP, MR. DUMBIDIOTFORGETSALOT IS WORKING ON HIS PHD LIKE A DUMB IDIOT WHO FORGETS A LOT.) But anyone else who is still in school knows that right now is crunch time. So today I just have a few things to offer.

• This is a prominence that is approximately 700,000 km across...
  
  
• Something I haven't mentioned here, but probably will bring up through the rest of the NFL season: a couple weeks ago I started predicting winners for all the games that week and tracking my record. Two weeks ago I was 12-4 (meaning I correctly predicted 12 winners, and incorrectly predicted 4 DUH DUH DUH). Last week I was 9-7. So far this week I am 12-3, and I'm calling the Pats to beat the Jets at home. More than anything I just hope it's a good game; I love rivalries. Here is the summary of my feelings for this week:
  
  Falcons :D
  Colts :C
  Saints >:C
  Raiders :|
  Steelers :/
  Jags :0
  
  
• And I just want to end by saying that this is how my schoolwork is making me feel (like the little kid in case DERP HERP DERP):
  

Milk, Eggs and Fabric Softener

You know you're old when you're watching Home Alone for the millionth time with a group of similarly-old friends, and all any of you can remark on is the irresponsibility of all the characters' actions.

You also know you're old when Home Alone came out twenty years ago. Dear god.

Check out the Home Alone Lunchtime Quiz Mental Floss did a couple weeks back to feel smart.

Nerf vs Legos

Which would you rather get hit in the face with?

Build or Shoot?

Mattie or Mikey????

Find us on iTunes or download here

Nothing to add... just watch this

It has been kind of crazy lately. Hopefully this video will hold you over until we get our podcast recorded and posted tonight.

A Christmas Memory

It’s officially December, marked by a chill in the air, tree lots outside every grocery store and the commencement of ABC Family’s 25 Days Of Mediocre Christmas Movies.

This is not a story about the kind of Christmas movies that you fold into your family’s holiday traditions, watching year after year with a nostalgic glint in your eye and a candy cane in your hand. This is not a story about the classics. I’m not here to preach to the choir about how awesome Home Alone, Scrooged and Elf are.

No, instead I want to talk about the Christmas movies I couldn’t get enough of as a child. They’re almost certainly terrible, but I’ll almost certainly never, ever watch any of them again, so they’ll live on, perfect and faint in my fading memory.

When I was very young, I had a VHS copy of Babes In Toyland, the made-for-TV version starring a young Drew Barrymore (and also, apparently, Keanu Reeves and Mr. Miyagi. Whoa). I practically wore this video out, and my parents hated it—perhaps only partially because of the repetition, as it can’t have been good. All I really remember about it now is wanting to live in Toyland, but then, what kid wouldn’t?

Or what about Prancer, the 1989 classic about a little girl who keeps a reindeer as a pet or something? I think it was sick and she nurses it back to life, only to discover it’s really one of Santa’s reindeer. Or maybe it’s a movie about a girl having a schizophrenic break, but either way. Who didn’t love movies about kids with weird pets? Andre, Free Willy, Monkey Trouble—as kids we’re suckers for the idea of having an exotic animal for our very own, or at the very least, as our BFF. Although I don’t think a reindeer would provide the kind of stimulating conversation I’ve come to expect in a BFF.

Next up was All I Want For Christmas, a family film about a pair of kids trying to reunite their divorced-or-maybe-just-separated-I-can’t-remember parents in time for the holidays. Ethan Embry played the boy, and I might have had a crush on him, but I’m not sure. IMDb tells me that the kids’ elaborate scheme involved “mice, telephone calls, and an ice-cream truck,” though none of that rings a bell. To be honest, all I really remember about this movie is that it exists. Which is probably how I’m going to keep it.

Later came Christmas Every Day, the made-for-TV movie that basically ripped off Groundhog’s Day with a kid instead of Bill Murray. The kid in question was Erik Von Detton, on whom I definitely had a crush (later making Brink a cinematic masterpiece in my household), and he has to learn to not be selfish or to be nice to his sister or to shoot a basketball or something. In any case, it’s like Groundhog’s Day with training wheels, and who doesn’t love Groundhog’s Day? Ergo, Christmas Every Day—probably every bit as awesome as I remember. Maybe.

This Christmas season, I’ll probably be watching Love Actually, maybe Home Alone 2 (though never 3), possibly a couple versions of Miracle on 34th Street, but I think I’ll leave these others to my memory. We grown-ups just can't appreciate quality Christmas movies.