It’s funny because it’s true.

Go watch this.* Go ahead. I’ll wait.

You back? Good.

Now, let’s just be clear about one thing here: I have nothing against Macs. (Well, that’s not quite true. Macs do have some features that I think are completely stupid. But, then, so do PCs. So there you go.) I do, however, have something against the certain type of Mac Person that those Mac commercials portray. The — how did he put it? — “passively-agressive, we-are-better-than-you” Mac person who is of the firm opinion that Mac Can Do No Wrong. I have encountered people like this in my life, and what I’ve wanted to do more than anything once the Mac Praising began was hit the Mac Praiser in the face.

Now, after watching that video, whenever I find myself being talked at about how superior Mac is, I simply retreat to my happy place — a place where I never leave home without a Guy Who Likes to Hit People by my side.

*Thanks for sharing, Tim!

The one where I write about New Year’s Eve.

I’ve been so busy being in love with my Zune* that I’m just now getting around to the post that’s been in the back of my mind since the very beginning of the year.

No, I’m not going to sit here and tell you about my resolutions for ’07. They’re either entirely unintersting or they’re related to parts of my life that I don’t write about here.

Instead of discussing resolutions, I’d like to talk to you about that big sparkly ball that ever-so-slowly drops in Times Square every year.

Are Tim and I the only people in the world who think that’s one of the stupidest things ever?

The first time I watched the ball drop, I think I was in high school or something. After all the hype that I’d heard about it (and, honestly, I don’t think my reaction would have been that different even with less hype), my very first thought of the new year was, “That’s it?”

First of all, the ball is kinda ugly. But then again, I think most gaudy things are ugly, and that ball is the epitome of gaudy. (Waste of money? I think so.)

Second of all, I was really expecting something more dramatic than an agonizingly slow sixty-second meander down some pole. I thought it would do something that was actually exciting, like suddenly drop really quick in the last second of the year with fireworks shooting out of it at the stroke of midnight. Why doesn’t it do that?
In fact, why does the ball drop at all? Why not raise it?* I know we’re counting down to the new year, but maybe we could be looking ahead/forward/upward towards the year to come. And when the newly-designed, rapid-moving, non-hideous ball reaches the top to announce the beginning of a new year, fireworks should definitely shoot out of it. As in, a ton of fireworks. Fireworks like nobody’s business. Fireworks like, I don’t know, it’s the end of a year or something.

None of this measley handful of pathetically small fireworks shooting out of the “2007” sign bullshit. Seriously, NYC, what was that about?

What can I say? I enjoy fireworks, and would very much like to see more of them (and less boring ball-drops) involved in ringing in the new year.

*Seriously. So much love.

**If Tim’s stories are true (which I assume they are, because why would he lie?), the folks down in Pueblo have the right idea with their New Year’s Eve raising of the chili pepper. And only about 12 people gather in the town square to see that. If Pueblo can lift a giant chili pepper for 12 people, surely New York can raise a ball for a couple million people.

Gloss rhymes with hair!

You know that song that’s called something like “The Way You Love Me” and it’s by someone like Faith Hill or something?

Yeah, I hate that song.

Do you know why I hate that song? Because it’s stupid. But, more specifically, because the first line irritates the hell out of me.

The first line goes like this: “If I could grant you one wish, I wish you could see the way you kiss.”

Does anyone else see the problem with this line? She starts out seeming like she wants to grant this guy his wish (“If I could grant you one wish”), but then she proceeds to make her own wish (“I wish”). Why even dangle the opportunity to have a wish granted in front of this poor guy if you’re just going to steal it away half a second later? It doesn’t make any sense and she comes off as a selfish little bitch and I hate it.

Just like I hate the name of this movie I saw a preview for today called The Pursuit of Happyness. Why in the name of all that is holy would you spell it like that? It doesn’t change the meaning of the word, and it doesn’t appear to apply to the theme of the movie or anything clever like that. It just makes the producers look like stupid, illiterate assholes.

The end.

Secret Note to Gary: I did it! I gave you a whole week — seven days straight — of posts titled with Ani lyrics! Do I get a gold star now?

I say out here on the prairie any speed is to slow

Question: What in the world happened to the “thank you” wave?

I’ve been noticing lately as I sit in an obscene amount of traffic — on my way to work, on my way home, on the interstate today — that if you happen to be a courteous driver and let someone merge out of their parking lot of a lane into your parking lot of a lane, you rarely get a “thank you” wave from the driver you have so graciously allowed to occupy the space in front of you. Why is that?

The way I see it, I didn’t have to let you in. But when I saw your blinker and decided to practice good driving karma in hopes that someday soon I might get to drive above 2mph, I was doing you a favor. Is it really too much to break out of your self-absorbed little bubble for the miniscule amount of time it takes to wave your hand to let me know you appreciate what I’ve done for you? As soon as you’ve waved, feel free to dive right back into the depths of your own self importance. But just do me a favor and take half a second to notice the favor I’ve done for you. I’m really not asking for much here, people.

Somebody say someting, anything soon. I know I can’t be the only whatever I am in the room.

The results are trickling in from yesterday’s election, and, well, you win some, you lose some, I suppose … I’m happy about our new governor, not so happy that the two ballot issues I felt most strongly about didn’t go the right way. It was probably silly of me to hope that the majority of voters in this Red State (where the word “liberal” is commonly thrown around as if it were the worst insult ever — in many of the shit-slinging campaign ads that were all too prevalent this year [both sides went way overboard on the shit-slinging, by the way — it was digusting], the Dem. candidate was often referred to as “Liberal so-and-so wants to blah, blah, blah, some progressive thing, blah, blah” in a tone which suggested a translation of “Whore so-and-so wants to send us all straight to hell.” They would practially spit the word “liberal” as if they could barely stand to utter such a vile word.*) would share my views, but I really did think that at least one of those issues had a shot. I guess I can take comfort in the fact that it was a pretty close race in both cases, but that doesn’t change the end result. And I’m really not thrilled about the results of the 4th congressional district race. I don’t live in that district anymore, so those candidates weren’t on my ballot, but, dman it**, I really wish the people who do live there had voted differently.

Anyway, enough bitching about politics. Here’s a story involving somebody else’s bitching. (World’s best transition, I know.)

When I voted yesterday, there was this lady in line ahead of me who had apparently moved not too long ago, but had registered with her new address prior to the cut-off deadline. However, there had been some mix up, and she wasn’t on The List of registered voters in that precinct. From what I overheard, though, it didn’t seem like this was a big deal. The woman had to vote on a Provisional ballot, which, from what I understand, shouldn’t have limited the ballot issues for which her vote would count as long as she was indeed voting in the correct precinct, as she said she was. But this lady was pissed. There were a lot of heavy, frustrated sighs, and she informed the election judges that they were not on her “good list” for the day. And all the while I stood in line, observed this grumpy little exchange, and thought to myself, “Pay attention — this could be good blog material.”

I don’t really see what the big deal was. I mean, sure it’s annoying to have to fill out a little extra paperwork and what not. But it’s not like she was being told she had to go drive 30 minutes across town and vote in her old precinct. She just had to walk 20 feet across the room to the provisional voting table. And, most importantly, she still got to vote. So stop with the indignant, heavy sighing already, get over it, and go vote. What’s the problem?

And, whether you’re a grumpy person who had to vote on a provisional ballot, unhappy about the election results, or if you just like things that are funny, this is bound to cheer you up.

*Have I ever mentioned how happy I am to live in a country where I can put the world’s longest parenthetical smack-dab in the middle of a sentence and it’s A-OK? Because I don’t know what I would do without my Freedom of Excessive Parentheticals.

**That’s all for you, Jess.

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