You Never Can Tell with Bees

"The Life" Online

2008-05-04T16:50:00.000-07:00

If you're interested, you can view "The Life" in three parts on my Facebook video page here.

(I didn't post it on You Tube, because that would've required breaking the movie into at least five parts, and that's just stupid.)

You may need a Facebook account to get to my videos, so (as with moving buddies) if you don't have one, get one!

Official "The Life" Trailer

2008-04-16T22:07:00.001-07:00

Here's the trailer for my upcoming movie. Now, finally, you can stop scouring the internet for all those unofficial, bootlegged "The Life" trailers.

Official "The Life" Poster

2008-03-26T21:07:00.000-07:00

Here's the poster for my upcoming movie. Now, finally, you can stop scouring the internet for all those unofficial, bootlegged "The Life" posters.

Happy Birthday, World

2008-03-16T15:45:00.001-07:00

Ray and Cyrus present, "The Rap of Global Domination."

A snippet from this will be appearing in my upcoming thesis film, "The Life."

(And a note for family audiences: Cyrus isn't actually cussing toward the end - Ray artificially added the censor bleeps in order to build their street cred.

Not that they needed it.)

This Post Gave Me Chills

2007-12-21T21:21:00.000-08:00

I can't believe you still check my blog.

By the way, I've decided to stop calling You Never Can Tell with Bees a "blog" on the grounds that blogs are stupid. From now on, I will replace the word "blog" with "Cool Reinman Awesome Page" -- as in, "Man, I hate posting to my Cool Reinman Awesome Page" and "There sure are a lot of crappy Cool Reinman Awesome Pages out there on the intranets."

Anyway, my return to the world of Cool Reinman Awesome Paging was prompted by a recent Lord of the Rings marathon with the Jilb. Watching three theatrical cuts over three nights (no awkward pacing and unintentionally hilarious costumed hijinks in Mordor for us!), I was pleased to discover that two automatic-chill scenes retained their power for me -- Gandalf leading the charge down the hill at the end of Two Towers, and the Rohirrim's arrival to the giant battle in Return of the King.

The power of Gandalf's scene in Two Towers is obvious -- the build-up with hopeless circumstances; the decision, against all odds, to ride out and meet the enemy; the sounding of the horn; and then, of course, the payoff, as Gandalf, in all his Christ-metaphorical glory, appears atop the hill to lead the victory.

As for the second one, in a movie with multiple potential chill scenes -- Sam carrying Frodo up the mountain, Aragorn whispering "for Frodo" before charging into a sea of Orcs, everyone bowing down to the four Hobbits during ending number three (of seventeen) -- it seems odd that the only time I get chills during The Return of the King is, once again, when the Rohirrim thunder into battle.

Maybe it's the horns.

It just goes to show that there is no accounting for chills. For instance, I love Lawrence of Arabia. The film stirs something in me that's difficult to describe in words. And yet, I never get chills watching it. The same goes for a number of other films I admire -- Raiders of the Lost Ark, Master and Commander, Starting Tomorrow -- nothing.

I am clearly, then, not liberal with my chills -- I only have three automatic-chill scenes -- which makes it all the more remarkable that two of those scenes are in Lord of the Rings. The third (and original) automatic-chill scene is Tevye shouting, "No Chava," while pulling the cart away in Fiddler on the Roof. Gets me every time.

Scenes That Have Chilled In The Past But Are Not Necessarily Automatic:

Jimmy Chitwood swishing the final shot.
Chingachgook rolling past Mugua and slamming his blade into Mugua's back.
Al Michaels' call as the out-of-focus puck wobbles to a halt on the ice.
The torpedoes, one after the other, entering the exhaust port.
The Ents marching to Isengard.

That's all.

And I know what you're thinking: "The Ents? Really, Reinman? Altogether, that's a pretty crummy list."

Yeah? You think so? Well, thank you for proving my point. (Jerk.)

You can't control chill scenes. They just happen.

Sometimes you don't expect to get chills -- like when you're watching Two Towers and your dad calls, and your XBox 360 tells you that Tenacious Drew is online, and the dog is barking, and the baby is digging her nails into your left ear -- but then you see Gandalf on his white horse and against all odds, you get chills anyway.

And then sometimes you try to still get chills, like during Aragorn's underwhelming speech at the Black Gate, but it just doesn't happen, so you move on with your life.

And then once, for some inexplicable reason, you get chills when the Ents start marching (hurrah, hurrah?).

Maybe it was cold in the room that night. (Actually, I blame it on Howard Shore.)

And that's why everyone's chill scenes are different.

So, friends of mine (I didn't really mean the "jerk" thing earlier), for the Comments Portion of this post, feel free to expand the chill list. What movie scenes give you the chills?

Remember, there are no wrong answers -- only wrong movies. Like The Princess Bride.

Must...

2007-11-30T23:59:00.000-08:00

Have...

2007-10-31T23:59:00.000-07:00

Complete Archive

2007-09-30T23:59:00.000-07:00

So Far So Good

2007-08-29T08:01:00.000-07:00

Thank you all for your kind words, prayers, and support. It's meant a lot to me.

Surgery went well, and except for a few House-like symptoms - including a limp, pill popping, inflated ego, and general scruffiness - I'm feeling pretty good.

Check out Jill's blog for a bit more info along with the cutest video ever.

You Never Can Tell with Nuts

2007-08-22T19:54:00.000-07:00

I have testicular cancer, which, on one hand, kind of sucks, but on the other hand, at least I have something new to blog about.

I discovered something was amiss a few days ago in the shower when I noticed the right fella had become a bit firm and enlarged. At first, I thought that was pretty neat -- growing an actual pair of enormous, manly, Paul Bunyan-esque stones. (I would never miss another clutch jump shot again, and maybe, just maybe, I would finally be man enough to carry two 24 packs of Coke and Emma from the van to the house at the same time -- as it stands, I'm close, though she definitely needs to learn to balance better.)

But the Jilb, God bless her, convinced me to see a doctor. I went to the clinic this morning, and they sent me to Fargo, and there I had an ultrasound, had some blood taken, ate at Arby's, bought a pair of blue jeans (excellent shopping in Fargo), and found out I had cancer -- which wasn't so neat. (You already know the severity of my reaction. I was so distraught I ate at Arby's.)

I have surgery on Tuesday. They're taking away the right fella. Prayers, of course, are welcome and appreciated.

Going to the waiting room and telling the Jilb was the hardest part.

"It's cancer," I said.

She cried. After a while she quietly exhaled, "Wow."

"Yeah," I said. "Wow."

We held hands for a moment, looking at each other, looking down again, looking at little Emma in the car seat and wondering what the future held. I grasped my wife's hand even tighter and caught her gaze.

"Can I get an X-Box 360?"

"No."

"Dang. Worth a shot."

After all, things aren't changing that much.

Bennie and Baby

2007-07-29T23:23:00.000-07:00

Jill: All right, baby’s sleeping, bottle’s in the fridge, I should be back in a couple hours.

Aaron: OK.

Bennie: Bark Bark!

Aaron: Shhhhhh!

Jill: You need anything from the store?

Aaron: I’m good.

Bennie: Bark!

Aaron: Shut up!

Jill: OK, have fun, bye.

(Jill dashes out, yet remains careful to close the door with only the slightest click.)

Bennie: You shut up.

Aaron: No, seriously, be quiet. You’re gonna wake the baby.

Bennie: Oh, boo hoo! Why’s everyone always so terrified of waking babies?

Aaron: Well, Ben…

Bennie: It’s not like we’re sitting in a freaking lion’s den here.

Aaron: No…

Bennie: I can understand being extra quiet around a lion. You wake up a lion, he bites your head off.

Aaron: Well, that’s true.

Bennie: And then he rips off your arms.

Aaron: I guess.

Bennie: And then your neck.

Aaron: I figured he would’ve gotten that with the head.

Bennie: But what’s a baby gonna do if you wake her, spit bubbles and fill her pants?

Aaron: For starters.

Bennie: I’ll take my chances with the baby.

Aaron: Then comes the wailing.

Bennie: One chomps on your head, the other emits a slight odor.

Aaron: Hey, yeah, by the way, that was a nice gift you left on the living room carpet this morning.

Bennie: Three gifts, actually. Thanks for noticing.

Aaron: What gives?

Bennie: Isn’t it obvious? It was a clever trick to get your attention. Ever since that baby’s come home, I’ve been woefully neglected.

Aaron: Oh yeah right.

Bennie: Yeah. Right.

Aaron: You really feel that way? You really, (bear) truly, (ball), honestly (frequent walks to Dairy Queen) feel neglected?

Bennie: I do. I have feelings, you know. Every time I see you holding the baby or talking to the baby or taking the baby for a car-ride, it’s like I’m getting punched in the stomach over and over…by a lion.

Aaron: What’s with lions today?

Bennie: It’s that toy, man. It’s freaking me out.

Aaron: Well don’t touch. It’s Baby’s First Lion.

(Aaron’s cell phone rings.)

Aaron: Haldo.

Jill: Hey, how’s baby doing?

Aaron: She’s fine, she’s just sleeping in her…BENNIE! DROP BABY'S FIRST LION!

Baby: a-heh…weh…grunt…

Bennie: BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK!

Aaron: Shut up! SHUT UP!

Baby: WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Jill: Is everything all right over there?

Aaron: Yep, we’re great, love you (click.)

Baby: WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Aaron: Bennie, you idiot!

Baby: Ehh!...aheh…aheh…aheh…WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Aaron: I’m gonna warm up a bottle. Stop chomping on that lion’s head.

Bennie: She’s not hungry.

Aaron: What makes you say that?

Bennie: I understand babies.

Baby: WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Aaron: Yeah? So you understand that barking like a maniac wakes babies up and makes them cry?

Bennie: Yes.

Baby: WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Aaron: Well, thanks, you’ve been a tremendous help.

Bennie: I also understand baby-speak.

Baby: WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Aaron: So that right there. That “wah,” you understood that.

Bennie: Yes.

Aaron: She's communicating to you through her crying.

Bennie: Yeah that’s right.

Baby: WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Aaron: Wow. You are 100% full of crap.

Bennie: The carpet disagrees.

Baby: WAHHHHH WAHHHHHH WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

Aaron: That’s gross, and she’s cranking up the volume, so I’m gonna go ahead and get her bottle now.

Bennie: Why don’t you pick her up first.

Baby: WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Aaron: I will after I get the bottle.

Baby: WAHHH WAHHHH WAHHHH WAHHHHH WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

Bennie: You should do it now.

Aaron: All right, all right, fine. Shhhhhhhhh, baby. Shhhhh…

Baby: WAHHHHhhhh…aheh…aheh…AGEE! (giggle).

Aaron: Good baby…shhhh baby……Hey, that’s awesome! How’d you know I needed to pick her up? Is that what she told you?

Bennie: No. Any idiot knows to pick up a crying baby. That’s what makes babies such cowards. You pick ‘em up and they shut their tiny, quivering yaps. Now if you tried to pick up a roaring lion, he’d kick you right in the crotch.

Aaron: Fascinating. So what did baby actually say?

Bennie: She said you should set out a bowl of dog treats and put in the Homeward Bound DVD.

Aaron: We don’t have Homeward Bound.

Bennie: You didn’t let me finish. She said you should put in the Homeward Bound DVD that you rent from Blockbuster, and also you should throw away our leash in case a dog wanted to have his own “incredible journey.” And she wants her diaper changed.

Aaron: Wow, she said all that, huh?

Bennie: Yeah, that last part is how you could tell it was really her.

Aaron: That’s a good point. I’ll get started on the diaper.

Bennie: And I’ll drive to Blockbuster. Give me your keys.

Aaron: Yeah, sure. Just as soon as you get your ball.

Bennie: Did you throw it?

Aaron: Yep.

Bennie: It didn’t look like you threw it.

Aaron: Well, as you can see, it’s not in my hands anymore.

Bennie: Is it behind the couch? I bet it’s behind the couch.

Aaron: Could be.

Bennie: Maybe it’s up on the rocking chair.

Aaron: Hard to say.

Bennie: Crap. All right, it’s gotta be somewhere in the bedroom.

Aaron: You never know.

Bennie: Are you sure you really threw it?

Big News

2007-06-14T18:38:00.000-07:00

On Wednesday, June 13, 2007, after an exhausting, difficult, yet ultimately beautiful struggle, we survived, we persevered, and we prevailed -- at 4:51 p.m. I led my troops into the heart of Xylvania, crushing Kaiser Vlad's forces and completing the final level of Battalion Wars on the Wii.

Then at 2:17 today, Jill had a baby.

Emma Lynn Reini is 6 pounds, 15 ounces and 19 3/4 inches long (tall?). She is healthy, cone-headed, and likes to spit bubbles.

Jill was amazing during labor and is now enjoying a much deserved rest.

And I couldn't be prouder.

Links

2007-05-23T07:18:00.000-07:00

I'm throwing up some links, otherwise there'd be no post for May -- a national emergency if ever I've heard one.

ESPN's Sports Guy Bill Simmons recently introduced me to Ronald Jenkees. Now Jenkees fever is sweeping the You Tube. Yeah!

More stuff I found on the You Tube. (Now you know why I never post, and when I do post, it's only stuff from the You Tube.) So far, I've asked the Ninja about the English language, Pirates of the Caribbean, and College.

Rainy Day/Double Deuce begins shooting the next movie today. "Guiding Mr. Jenkins" is a twenty minute short for a summer Digital Cinema class -- a class with a dozen people, which means a crew of a dozen people (up from our usual crew size of two).

Also, little baby Reini is due in 2-3 weeks. Speaking of which, I just found out in Baby Class that babies regularly need "changing." It looked pretty gross. Who knew?

Go Pats!

2007-04-29T10:57:00.000-07:00

And now I need a new jersey. (Not to be confused with New Jersey. I don't need one of those.)

Requiem for a Soda

2007-04-22T12:59:00.001-07:00

Video Post Extravaganza

2007-04-22T12:51:00.001-07:00

I just discovered this web site called You Tube where anyone can upload videos -- from music videos to commercials to old TV shows to sports highlights to home movies -- you name it, and it's probably on You Tube.

It's pretty cool, and I would encourage you all to go check it out sometime. I can easily see it becoming the next big thing on the World Wide Web.

I can tell you right now that I'm on board for sure. I've even started uploading some of my own movies. And the best part is, you can also post them to your blogs. Neat, huh? (If you didn't notice, that's what I did with "Requiem for a Soda" in the above post...)

For those of you wondering about the film fest results, "Requiem" won 1st place and the critics choice award at the Beaver Film Fest on Wednesday. And it won 2nd place at the Minnesota Regional Film Fest on Saturday. (You can see the winning video from Carleton here.)

Also at the Regional, "A.D.D.: A Dysfunctional Documentary" -- a fellow Bemidji film -- won the applause-o-meter critic's choice award, which is good because the film makes me giggle. Go watch it.

You can also see the latest Double Deuce flick on You Tube. I'm not sure if the Professor even knows this, but it was shown during the judging intermission at the Regional and earned a very favorable response. So go watch Seen as well.

Finally, I'm in the process of uploading a sizeable catalogue of Rainy Day and Video Boys productions to the You Tube. Here's what I have so far.

Enjoy.

"Requiem for a Soda" stills

2007-04-14T09:33:00.000-07:00

For the three of you who haven't had an advanced screening, here are some pictures from my latest movie (premiering at the Beaver Film Fest -- Wednesday, April 18, 7:00. / Red carpet party, 6:00).

Requiem for a Soda is heavily influenced by Salsa III -- from shots like this and this to the Rainy Day Pictures logo at the end. (By the way, go back and take a look at the first this. Isn't that ceiling gorgeous? What a great auditorium. Some day I'll go back and shoot there again.)

Same scene, different angle. (You've seen this photo before.)

This is my favorite sequence. Unfortunately, it had to be trimmed due to time restraints. The cutting doesn't hurt the story itself, but ideally some of these shots would be allowed to breathe a second or two longer. They're among my favorite in the movie. (And it helps that the professor exudes evil from every pore.)

Look to the far right, and you'll see DJ just beginning to appear out of nothingness. It's nice when the lighting actually does what it's supposed to (an extremely rare occurrence for Rainy Day/Double Deuce productions -- mostly because we're idiots).

Meanwhile, Andi does her best Nate Kirk impression from Violent Person.

The lighting didn't turn out so well here (curse you miniature black and white viewfinder), but I think Paul and DJ look pretty dapper here with their matching clothes and all.

Now that's acting.

And, as usual, Matt Brown steals the show.

See you on Wednesday.

"Requiem for a Soda" Photo Tour

2007-03-31T07:59:00.000-07:00

We got it all shot in one day, and I only had to call people back on two separate occasions (thanks for your cooperation and graciousness, DJ and Andi).

Here's the tour.

Most movies use large puffy blue mats for their stunts. Or at least a bed mattress. We used a single chair.

On rollers.

Drew and Paul celebrate no broken bones.

The lighting studio tended to encourage spontaneous posing.

Some day . . . real sets.

The script required Matt Brown to sit on a bench and drink from a can. It was a lot colder than it looks.

Drew did an admirable job protecting the camera with the patchwork umbrella he McGuyvered. (Look at the handle and the background directly behind him.)

Eric Nelson is the star. Plus, thanks to his FM-90 hook up, he got us free Papa John's. Hurray Eric!

Drew busts out his patented angry eyes.

Andi aptly imitates my round-faced, wide-eyed storyboard drawings. As for Eric, this is called, after all, "Requiem for a Soda."

Thanks to Andi, Paul, DJ and whoever else might've snapped the odd photo.

That Time of Year

2007-03-29T09:38:00.000-07:00

The Rainy Day Pictures / Double Deuce Studios juggernaut is back at it, which means exclusive film-related posts from now until about May.

(If you don't like posts about my movies, don't worry. At my current rate of posting, this will likely be the only one.)

Tomorrow we shoot "Requiem for a Soda" (tagline: "Good vs Evil, Love vs Hate, Coke vs Pepsi")

Who can I talk to about doing this for a living?

(And Happy 18th Birthday to the Hermit! Any and all garage-related dreams still live...)

I GOT IT!!!!!

2007-03-14T16:12:00.000-07:00

Ok, this might not be as monumental as George finally figuring out "the switch," but it's kind of a big deal for me.

I finally have a script ready to go for this year's film fest. (And no, BeckyMom, unfortunately it's not your documentary idea - which I loved, by the way. It just ended up being way too big for five minutes.)

My film is tentatively called "Requiem for a Soda."

I'm not giving much away at this time, but if you need a hint, think "Salsa III" meets "The Notebook" with a visual cue from "Violent Person" and the pacing of "Prelude."

Here are some pictures to help you visualize this unlikely concoction.

Oh, there's that movie script I wrote!

2007-03-10T14:09:00.000-08:00

I've finally hammered out a script for this year's film fest. I recently pitched it to the Professor in his office.

Me: The important thing is, it's got the perfect part for you. It's about a killer robot driving instructor who travels back in time for some reason.

The Professor: I'm listening.

Me: Okay, okay, well, you see . . . this robot, he's got a heartbreaking decision to make about whether his best friend lives . . . or dies.

The Professor: Eh.

Me: His best friend's a talking pie!

The Professor: Sold! Reinman, you've done it again!

* * *
Seriously, though, I've got nothing. It hasn't been for lack of trying. I've spent the past month scribbling on page after page in my notebook, and I've produced a lot of helpful material -- plenty of excellent shot descriptions and plot points, such as, "benches are new," "do something with a fridge," and my personal favorite "pick a scab?" Who needs rising action, an epiphany, or even a protagonist when you have new benches . . . somewhere . . . doing something.

All in all, my inability to come up with a decent script is a symptom of a larger, more serious problem -- my ongoing creative dry spell. Consider the facts. My blog is running on fumes. The last two stories I turned in for my fiction class were (1) a modified blog post and (2) a chapter from a story from a universe that the Colonel created.

I haven't produced anything original for over a year -- not even my films. "Prelude" was just a collection of old family games that the Colonel made up, and "Doing Anything" annoys me because the DVD isn't done, so it doesn't count.

In fact, the only truly original thing I've done over the past two years is the "Immigrant Song" video.

Man, that video rules.

And, watching it now for the first time in months, I feel the first, subtle hints of inspiration. I realize I do still have something left in the tank. In fact, an idea for this year's film fest is even now beginning to take shape in my mind. It's fast. It's clever. And most importantly, it's original.

I've even come up with a title.

On April 18, watch out for "Immigrant Song 2: Electric Boogaloo."

The Streak Lives

2007-02-28T23:59:00.000-08:00

This was published in February.

Prove it wasn't.

2:10

2007-01-23T12:10:00.000-08:00

What's up with your friend?

(It's been over a month since my last post, and that's the best I can do. I have to be honest with you - the energy I used to put into blogging is now being harnessed for bigger and better projects, such as maintaining a sizeable and varied paper boat fleet and becoming a 2,000 level pro on Wii Sports: tennis.

For instance, here's a recent argument I had with Michelle, while I was making a paper boat out of a page from TPE.

Michelle: Reinman, post more.

Me: No.

Then I left and played some Wii Sports by myself because your ranking doesn't go up if you play with friends. Or with Bennie.

I begin teaching again tomorrow. For the first assignment, I'm thinking of having my students each write a paragraph or two about something random - like Star Wars, or bees, or stupid conversations they've had about breakfast cereal.

In addition to assigning papers, it's also my job to talk about plagiarism. I'll start by saying that if they ever noticed one of their paragraphs online, say, on someone's blog, it's probably just a big coincidence and they should forget about it. Also they shouldn't be so nosy.

They also have to write a research paper. Most teachers let them choose just about any topic. I think I'm going to narrow it down a little, though. Actually I'm going to narrow it down quite a bit. In fact, they'll only be allowed to research one subject - potential blogging topics.

For me.

Because my blog is really important.

Also, you thought I'd forget about the closed parenthesis, didn't you?)

Shotgun Post

2006-12-16T13:19:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I turned in my term paper for Rhetorical Theory. It was eight pages long. The assignment called for fifteen. So on one hand, I only turned in about half of what I was supposed to, but on the other hand, at least they were eight poorly written pages.

Speaking of writing, the Colonel recently approached me about co-authoring a novel with him. I was really excited until I remembered that fiction writing isn't at all like blog writing, in that fiction writing requires actual skill. In other words, I won't be able to count on stupid pictures, links, or George Lucas jokes to bail me out of a crappy sentence.

I saw Apocolypto last weekend. Go out and see it right now. It's awesome because it's different than everything else out there. It's not like all those other wussy movies that don't have crazy people on top of enormous pyramids, punting severed heads down the steps.

I shaved off my little chin beard today, because I decided College Writing teachers don't have little chin beards - they have sprawling, gnarled, Jolly Ranchers-stuck-in-the-hair beards. I can't wait. (Although right now I look eerily like the Hermit.)

I got my Wii by the way. The Jilb and I broke down and ordered one off ebay a few days after the OdyssWii. It is, of course, the sole reason for my lack of posting. The main culprit has been the new Zelda game, which was almost the best game I've ever played, until - about 80% into it - I ran into a glitch that wouldn't let me continue past that point. After all that time and term paper-neglecting, I wasn't even allowed to finish the stupid game. I was so mad, I almost pulled a Doug Downs on my controller.

Oh, and for those of you who haven't found out yet, the Jilb and I are having a baby. The little tiny baby will be due right around the birthday of little tiny Penny. Some people have been asking what we're gonna name it. I thought I had a good one until I found out my uncle Dan already had dibs on the name "Bucket." So I'm back to square one.

The OdyssWii

2006-11-24T09:30:00.000-08:00

Sing in me, Dews, and through me tell the story of the Reinman, skilled in all ways of monkey-balling, the wanderer, harried for days on end, after deciding he wanted to purchase a Nintendo Wii.

Sunday, November 19

4:05 p.m. - After reading a Star Tribune article about the Nintendo Wii, the Jilb says that the Wii looks kind of fun, and maybe we could pick one up sometime. I don't need a whole lot of convincing to buy a new videogame system. The OdyssWii begins.

Wednesday, November 22

5:45 p.m. - Three days have passed - three days of wandering past the barren shelves of various department stores and not a single whiff of the Wii. Some employees were helpful, hinting as to when they expected their next shipment. Others were not so much. (When I asked the Pamida employee about the Wii, she responded in similar fashion to Mr. Burns when he was confronted with re*cy*cling?)

I now find myself cashiering at the grocery store on the night before Thanksgiving. While working on the busiest night of the year is stressful and exhausting, it holds one advantage - it keeps me from dwelling on my recent failures.

I see my friend, the Professor, in the next lane. I tell him about my hopeless quest. He tells me that Wal-Mart is supposed to get a new shipment for their five a.m. sale the day after Thanksgiving. Hope lives again.

Friday, November 24

1:25 a.m. - What really matters, anyway? My family came to visit, and we chatted, ate great food, and watched movies. It was fun, but what really matters? We also played games. I won the first game, but what if I was a jerk? What if, instead of winning, I could've helped someone else have a better time? Who cares who wins board games anyway? My family was here - they matter. The Jilb is here next to me - she matters. Who cares about all that other crap? Who cares about the stupid Wii?

4:19 a.m. - That's the alarm! Time to get the Wii!

4:29 a.m. - I fill my thermos with coffee - the same coffee that I forgot to make for my parents the night before. Now I remember what matters. Coffee matters.

4:35 a.m. - I do not observe the posted limits as I speed the Skylark toward Wal-Mart. I marvel at how empty the roads are at four-thirty in the morning.

4:37 a.m. - I take a left on 15th Street and see a couple of cars in front of me. I question the drivers' motives. They couldn't possibly be going to Wal-Mart. They probably work at the hospital or something. And even if they are going to Wal-Mart, they're probably old ladies looking for a sale on lima beans. There's no way they're going for the Wii.

Another car pulls in front of me at a stoplight. Oh no you don't, you Wii stealing jerk!

4:41 a.m. - I am now a dozen or so back in a line of cars headed toward Wal-Mart. The parking lot comes into view. It is jam-packed. Please be old ladies. Please be old ladies.

4:43 a.m. - I'm in the store, and it's not old ladies. It's everyone from moms and dads to kids to, most distressingly, college-aged guys.

The Wal-Mart greeters have a coffee and donut table set up, and they're handing out some sort of paper to everyone, but I can't be bothered with that kind of crap. I clutch my thermos and rocket toward the electronics department. Shopping carts are everywhere - recklessly flying back and forth, in and out of aisles. I deftly dodge them like Han Solo in the asteroid field. I would hum the music, but there's no time for that sort of nonsense.

4:44 a.m. - I weave through the electronics department toward the Nintendo section. I check the display case. It is packed full with Gamecubes and Gameboys, but no Wii. I stop to think. A group of guys wearing blaze orange stop in front of the same case. I overhear their conversation.

I told you they wouldn't be here. . .It doesn't hurt to check. . .What does your sheet say?. . .Oh, ok. Let's see. Uh, Ok, I know. This way.

I suddenly realize my tactical error. Of course the Wii wouldn't be in the display case - not if they were getting a large shipment. The key to finding the Wii is on those pieces of paper the greeters were passing out - treasure maps where "X" marks the Wii.

I don't have time to go back and get a map. But I do have a few blaze orange guides.

4:45 a.m. - I follow them a couple aisles down to a pallet covered in a large black tarp. The only marking on the tarp is a white sheet of paper with a hand-written "24."

I overhear the blaze orange crew again. Yeah, Nintendo's the way to go if you want to play any real games. No way I'm getting PlayStation.

This is it. I am in the right place at the right time. In fifteen minutes I will have a chance at the Wii. But what if they don't have enough? I am one of about seven or eight people at this pallet. And what does the "24" mean? Could there actually be twenty-four Wii's here?

4:52 a.m. - There are two Wal-Mart employees at the pallet. One is a lady with a watch and a clipboard. The other is a young man with a box-cutter. A shopper approaches the clipboard lady.

Are these the PSP's?

No. Gameboy Micros. PSP's are that way.

Gameboy Micros? I'm confused. I ask one of the blaze orange guys for his map. It's a list with different items corresponding to different numbers. PSP - 13; Magnovox TV - 17; Gameboy Micro - 24.

Twenty-four. I'm at the wrong place. I scan the list for the Wii. It's not on there.

4:59 a.m. - The pallets are about to be opened. I know the Wii is not here, but I have to see with my own eyes. Besides, I don't know where else it would be. An announcement is made, and the box-cutter guy rips into the tarp - revealing a pallet full of Gameboy Micros. The blaze orange guys lustily grab three or four a piece. I walk up to the clipboard lady.

Do you have the Nintendo Wii in stock?

Not anymore. They flew out of here.

Do you know when you'll get more?

No idea. You'll have to keep calling back.

5:08 a.m. - Plan B. I sit in my parked car in the empty Target parking lot. The store opens at six. At Target there will be no pallets, no lists, no confusion. It's simple - first one in the door gets first crack at the Wii. I sip my coffee and wait.

5:13 a.m. - Another car parks a couple spaces down. I consider getting out to wait by the door. What if that guy's here for the Wii too? What if Target only has one, and he gets out and waits at the door before me? Wait. Are you listening to yourself? Don't be insane. If you play it cool, we can both wait in our warm cars for the store to open.

5:14 a.m. - I'm waiting outside at the door. Moments later, the guy gets out and waits behind me. We nod to each other. He looks like Christopher Walken. I gotta fever. . .and the only prescription is Big Savings!

5:16 a.m. - Two look-a-likes in row! The spitting image of Kurt Russell's Wyatt Earp gets out of a truck and looks at a sign on the door. He mutters. Six O'clock. I got time to get some coffee. He gets in his truck and leaves. I continue to wait with Christopher Walken.

5:19 a.m. - Five more people join the line. I think I recognize one of the young ladies - she probably goes to BSU. She speaks up to break the silence. So, what's everyone here for?

An old lady with a cane answers. Oh, just deals in general. I hate Wal-Mart.

The BSU girl responds. I just picked up a memory stick from there. I'm getting a camera.

Christopher Walken speaks up. I'm here for one thing.

No one asks what that one thing is. But I know. . .I know.

5:25 a.m. - Now I'm glad I decided to get out of my car when I did, because I'm first in a line of about two dozen people, and it continues to grow. I see Wyatt Earp come back with his cup of coffee. He looks like he want to join me and Christopher in the front, but he grudgingly heads to the back of the line. Thank God for my thermos.

5:36 - a.m. - The line is now so long that it's curving along the side of the store to avoid blocking traffic. Two teenage girls walk up and join the mass of people by the doors. Wyatt Earp spots them. Hey, the end of the line is that way!

Christopher Walken also notices. He speaks to me for the first time. I'd be mad, too. Not that it matters where you are. I hear it's a free-for-all once you get inside. I don't think that's right. What if there's handicap people at the front of the line? They should number you off in the order you got here.

It's easy for him to say as number two in line, but as number one myself, it's hard to disagree. I answer. No kidding. Hey, earlier you said you were here for one thing. I was wondering what it was.

Oh, it's a Lego castle for my kid. It's normally a hundred dollars, but the ad says fifty today. Wal-Mart's out of them. What are you here for?

The Nintendo Wii.

Oh yeah, my son wants that. I've looked everywhere. No one's got it. Do they have it here now?

I don't know for sure, actually.

Now I feel pretty stupid. The other front-of-the-line dwellers are here because they want to beat everyone else to a certain item in the store. I'm first in line, and I don't even know if the store has what I'm looking for.

5:42 a.m. - BSU girl gets my attention. You look familiar. Do I know you? Are you friends with David Johns?

Yeah, I know DJ. I'm over at that house quite bit. Me and Drew are pretty good friends.

Yeah, I've probably seen you there before.

If you have, there's a good chance I was holding a camera.

She pushes me, Elaine Benes style. That's right. You're that guy.

Heh, yeah. Did I hear you were getting a camera?

Yes! You don't know how excited I am. What are you getting?

I'm still feeling self-conscious about waiting for something I'm not even sure is there. So I answer. Well, first I'll check to see if they've got that new Nintendo. Just for fun. Then I'm just gonna get some piddley crap.

She laughs. Who waits first in line for piddley crap? You are so funny!

I'm not sure if "funny" is the correct term.

5:46 a.m. - A few feet back I overhear a lady. Yes, I saw the deal on that castle too. You can't beat half-off.

I turn to Christopher Walken. It looks like you have some competition.

He answers in all seriousness. I hope my legs don't fail me.

For the first time, I'm actually thinking about the prospect of hundreds of people sprinting through the doors in a mad dash. I had assumed that everyone would be pretty orderly - a brisk power-walk through the store at most. But seeing the steel glint in Christopher's eyes makes me wonder how chaotic this might get.

5:56 a.m. - The old lady with the cane speaks up. It's almost time. Look that guy's ready. He's got his hand on the door handle. She's pointing at me. I look and realize that my hand is, in fact, on the handle. I hadn't even noticed. I tell myself that I had done it subconsciously for support. But now it's got me wondering.

5:58 a.m. - The Target employees are beginning to unlock the inner doors. I suddenly panic and realize that I'm between the automatic doors and the manual doors. If they unlock the automatic doors, I'll be able to squeeze through. But if they unlock the manual doors, I could get stuck behind the door and the endless flow of people.

The crowd is inching closer to the automatic door. I see BSU girl stick her foot in between two people for leverage. I look to see if it was a joke. She smiles a little, but she doesn't pull her foot out. I position my foot too.

5:59 a.m. - The Target employees, much to my relief, begin unlocking both the automatic and manual doors. Because I'm toward the side, I won't be first into the store, but I'll be among the first three or four. I ready my left arm for the inevitable box-out.

6:00 a.m. - The doors open. BSU girl walks quickly in, then begins sprinting down the floor toward the cameras. I slide my way inside and calmly walk. No big deal. She wants a camera, not a Wii.

I see more people jogging past me. Christopher Walken and I maintain a steady, brisk walk. Another lady runs by - the lady that wanted the Lego castle. Christopher breaks his composure and runs after her, passing her on the right.

I continue my power-walk. There are now almost a dozen people ahead of me. A couple college-aged guys jog past me on the left. They're heading toward electronics - toward the Wii. I will not let this happen. I've waited too long.

I begin to jog. Then I begin to run. I blow by old ladies and moms. Christopher Walken and his old-man legs fade behind on the left. The college-aged guys are still in front, but they're nerdy, un-athletic gamers. I kick into another gear and breeze by them as well.

Only one person beats me to the electronics department - the BSU girl - and she's busy with her camera. No threat to my Wii. I look around. There are no pallets to be found, no cryptic lists, only shelves and displays full of items - each exactly where they should be. And I know where the Wii should be.

I round a corner and look into the Nintendo display case. And. . .

And. . .

. . .And if I had a Wii, I probably wouldn't be writing this now, would I?

A Change of Heart

2006-11-21T13:28:00.000-08:00

Here I am, once again reporting from the dull, blunt edge of pop culture. (You may remember such past reports as my "discovery" of 'Lazy Sunday' three months after it aired, and my 2006 review of Signs.)

Today's subject is Lupe Fiasco's "Kick, Push" - a skateboarding themed, hip hop single released this summer. Click here for a sample. (It plays automatically after some stupid ad for cucumbers. Who eats cucumbers, anyway?)

I can hear the majority of my readers already...

MOMR: Um...I think I'll pass on this one. Really, Reinman. Hip hop?

Me: No, that's just it. When I first heard the song, I instinctively wanted to hate it because it combined two things I'm slightly hostile to at best - hip hop and skateboarding.

MOMR: But it grew on you, right?

Me: Well, yeah.

MOMR: Just because something grows on you, doesn't make it good. I've got earwax growing on me right now. Are you gonna review my earwax next?

Me: No. Shut up. You haven't even heard the song.

MOMR: Let me guess. It has interesting, clever lyrics which won you over because *gasp* they didn't contain any of the usual hip hop fare - namely, sex and violence. Just because something doesn't resort to the lowest common denominator doesn't make it good.

Me: But the music...

MOMR: Was catchy? Unique? More than just a thumping bass line?

Me: I would add a soothing, jazzy rhythm accompanied by rising horns and slight string crescendos reminiscent of countless 1960's film scores for exotic James Bond-type locales. But yeah.

MOMR: So why don't I just listen to a James Bond album? Or better yet, The Incredibles score? That way I get the delightful music without the annoying rapping.

Me: But you're missing the point. The rapping itself was actually another reason I grew to like the song.

MOMR: Sure. How many "Yee-ah's" and "Uh's" by the way? Fifteen? Twenty?

Me: Thirty-three. But there's more to it than that. Lupe tells...

MOMR: Lupe! So you're on a first-name basis with the young gentleman?

Me: Fine. Jerk. Mr. Fiasco tells an engaging, coherent story about a young man who gets a skateboard, learns to ride, and falls in love. And on top of that, the chorus seamlessly and efficiently translates an action (riding a skateboard) into the spoken word. No easy task.

MOMR: I like how you praise the story by calling it "coherent." I'm so impressed now. But you know, I tend to enjoy things that go beyond simply "not sucking."

Me: But it does go beyond! It's not just an anthem for skateboarding - it's a nostalgic look at adolescence. Though I've never touched a skateboard, it brought back memories of my own youth. And moreover, the song helped me to understand a skateboarding sub-culture that I had previously mocked and derided.

MOMR: Previously mocked and derided?

Me: Yes.

MOMR: Wait. So based on this apparent musical masterpiece, you've had a complete change of heart? You're going to give up mocking skateboarders forever? Are you insane?

Me: Woah. Easy there. It's just a song, man. Nobody's giving up anything. Say why don't we go drive by the skate-park for old time's sake.

MOMR: Yes! Just a sec. Let me grab my "skateboarding is a crime" shirt.

* * *
In conclusion: Me and Most of My Readers - 1, skateboarders and cucumbers - 0

Me vs Academic Integrity

2006-11-16T10:24:00.000-08:00

Last week I had to write a monologue for a scriptwriting class. I decided monologues were stupid, so I spent most of my time re-reading my Settlers board game instructions, wishing I had three friends.

About fifteen minutes before the assignment was due, I felt this sudden, inexplicable urge to not fail my class. So I wrote a monologue about fall. Or more accurately, I wrote - word for word - this monologue about fall.

I turned it in and got an 'A.'

I was so pumped after getting rewarded for plagiarizing that I launched straight into an argument so I wouldn't lose my "high."

Me: Take that, Academic Integrity!

AI: Allow me to quote from your College Writing I syllabus.

Me: No.

AI: Doesn't matter. I'm going to anyway. "Plagiarism will not be tolerated. Any student caught plagiarizing will receive an 'F' for the course."

Me: Boy, I'm glad I'm not taking my class.

AI: But shouldn't you hold yourself to the same - nay - a higher standard than your students?

Me: Hey, wait a second. You stole from my syllabus! You were just plagiarizing, hypocrite.

AI: No I wasn't. I used quote marks and gave you credit for the statement. You don't know anything about plagiarism, do you? How on earth did you get that teaching job?

Me: Hey, look over there!

* * *

In Conclusion: Me - 1, Academic Integrity and friends - 0

La La La La Lumps in my Oatmeal

2006-11-09T10:11:00.000-08:00

The Jilb ate the last of the Wheaties this morning. I remember picking out the box with her.

* * *
The Jilb: Oooo! Look, Steve Nash!

Me: Do you know who Steve Nash is?

The Jilb: No.

Steve Nash: But Wheaties are delicious. . .

The Jilb: He's right. Wheaties are delicious.

Me: Into the cart.

* * *
The Wheaties was our last box of cereal. And because we didn't have any more pop tarts, I resigned myself to starving this morning. I made sure the Jilb knew I was starving.

Me: I'm starving.

The Jilb: Make an egg.

Me: What's an "egg"?

The Jilb: Make some toast.

Me: Toast is gross.

The Jilb: Make some coffee.

Me: What's "make"?

Finally I remembered the box of oatmeal that's been sitting in the back of at least two unreachable cupboards for the past year, because the Jilb doesn't like to eat oatmeal, and I don't like to make things.

"Make something, moron!" (That was my stomach, not the Jilb.)

"Ok." (That was me.)

So I made oatmeal. And then I ate oatmeal. And then I argued with oatmeal.

Me: Oatmeal, you took about a million times longer to make than Cocoa Puffs.

Oatmeal: But I was warm and delicious.

Me: Wrong. You were too hot. Then you were too cold. Then you were too lumpy. Lumps are gross, man.

Oatmeal: You just don't know how to make me.

Me: Also, you don't turn into chocolate milk at the end. In fact, you don't do anything except get cold and lumpy.

Oatmeal: You can turn me a more darker brown with piles of brown sugar. That's something, right?

Me: Hey, does brown sugar go bad? I think I've had that little bag for, like, three years.

Oatmeal: Beats me.

Me: Also, if I don't clean up right away, you turn into little concrete specks and stick to the pot forever.

Oatmeal: At least I don't stick to your arteries. At least I'm healthy for you.

Me: Yeah, about that. Is there a way to make you less healthy and more awesome?

Oatmeal: Try chocolate chips.

Me: Done.

* * *

In conclusion: Me and Steve Nash - 1, Oatmeal - 0

I Also Considered "Argue or Die"

2006-11-03T07:10:00.000-08:00

I've been telling my writing class, "Have a thesis or fail." So they ask me what a thesis is, and I tell them it's essentially an argument. Then I tell them to stop asking questions because they cut into my precious talking time.

The problem with this blog is I never have a thesis.

So I've decided to fix that by arguing more. But I'm not going to make arguments. No, I'm going to have arguments...you know, with people. Bitter, hair-pulling, multiple feelings hurt sort of arguments. It's much more interesting that way. And, of course, these aren't going to be boring, nit-picky, everyday, "who left the toilet seat up" sort of arguments. We're going to argue about the issues that really matter.

First up - mechanical pencils.

Me: Mechanical Pencil, you don't work very well. Plus I hate you.

Mechanical Pencil: I work just fine. Plus I'm technological, which makes me awesome.

Me: No, no, your stupid lead stick is weaker than a million little babies, and it always breaks off at the worst time - like when I'm drawing a picture of myself - and then I push your eraser button a thousand times, and nothing comes out, then I hold the button down, and the whole stupid lead stick falls out, and then I grab it to put it back in, but it breaks into a bunch of stupid little pieces, and then I put the pieces back in - one by one - but now the lead stick is sticking out just a little too far - far enough, I find out, to break again at the even the slightest bit of contact. I hate you. I hate you so much.

MP: If I'm so crappy, how come astronauts use me? Are you better than an astronaut?

Me: No. Nobody's better than an astronaut. Do astronauts really use you?

MP: Ha, no. Fooled you!

Me: Jerk.

MP: But I have been to space.

Me: Really?

MP: No. Ha. Fooled you again.

Me: Why do you have to be such a jerk all the time?

MP: Because everybody treats me mean, and nobody likes me.

Me: Also you're really crappy at your one purpose in life.

MP: Yes, that too.

* * *

In conclusion: Me - 1, Mechanical Pencils and astronauts - 0

This Probably Isn't the Deal

2006-10-26T08:50:00.000-07:00

I opened up Blogger to post. Then I didn't feel like posting. So I turned on some music. As I listened to the selection (The piece was "Marital Rescue" from The Incredibles - which ends with the distinct James Bond flair as the jet fills the screen. What a great movie.), I began absently typing. I had no idea what I was writing.

This is what resulted.

* * *
I will do a deal that is good.

You will be a man that cannot do the thing.

When will you know?

* * *

What does that mean? What is my subconscious trying to tell me? Why the repetition of "will"? What all important message am I apparently missing? I don't know.

I do know one thing, though - my subconscious is a moron.

"You will be a man that cannot do the thing." Yeah, thanks Captain Vague. Next time you got a message for me, make it something I can use, like "Skip class and go to McDonald's" or "Make sure you Super-size it."

But Reinman, isn't it remarkable that your subconscious spelled, punctuated, and, er, syntaxed correctly?

Yeah, about as remarkable as Bennie the Wonderdog not crapping in his kennel. So Grammar housebroke me and turned me into its submissive, obedient slave. Big deal. What do you wanna give my subconscious, a cookie?

Or maybe a Big Mac. . .yeah, give it a Big Mac. And a Take-5 McFlurry - I think he would really like that.

I'm confused. What are you talking about? Am I giving the food to you or your subconscious? And who am I, anyway? What's going on here?

Who cares? I'm gonna go get some lunch.

Make a Decision

2006-10-19T12:59:00.000-07:00

Me: "Paper or plastic?"

Her: "Oh, um. . ."

Me: "Yes?"

Her: "Hold on a second."

(consulting with her friend)

Her: "Ok, um, paper. . . I guess."

Me (to bagger): "Paper."

Her: "Wait. No. Let's go with plastic."

Me (to bagger): "Plastic."

Her friend: "Actually, does your paper have handles?"

Me (begrudgingly): "Yes."

Her friend: "Really? (to Her) The paper has handles."

Her: "They do? (to Me) Oh, ok, Um. . . Let's see. . . Can you wait a minute?"

* * *

It doesn't matter -- we're going to crush your bread either way. Just make a decision and stick with it.

On a completely unrelated note, I can't decide which film clip to show my class tomorrow. We're now writing in response to literature. But books are boring, so we're gonna watch a movie instead.

(Actually, film and literature criticism have a lot in common. To use one example, shots in films are sentences in literature. You wouldn't study every single one -- unless the work is a masterpiece -- but you may study a handful that stick out. However, noticeable shots, like powerful sentences, run the risk of being so potent, or fancy, or stylish, that they focus the viewer's/reader's attention on the medium, rather than the message.)

There's your lecture for today. Now don't be a freeloader. Send the necessary tuition payments to H.S. 325 at Bemidji State University. Thank you.

Anyway, I need a guinea pig clip for tomorrow's class. It has to be long enough to enable a worthwhile analysis, yet short enough to show, discuss as groups, and reconvene all in 50 minutes. It has to have a "literary" feel -- in order to make a smooth transition to actual booky literature -- but it definitely cannot have a "literary" feel i.e. skull-crushingly boring. And above all else, it has to include a dancing, Jewish milkman, but the milkman can't have any sons. That just wouldn't work.

Like I said, I'm stumped.

Here's a few of the candidates. Feel free to make suggestions.

(Even though I know by the time you get around to commenting, the relevant class period will have long been over. I'm just giving us all an excuse to talk about our favorite movies. Don't make me beg.)

Fall

2006-10-16T10:17:00.000-07:00

What do you think about when you hear the word "fall"? Sky-diving? Cliff-jumping? Tripping on your laptop cord? Those are all wrong.

We're talking about the season. Autumn. Fall. Now what do you think about? A bountiful harvest? The leaves changing? No. You think about Gene Hackman driving through the Indiana countryside accompanied by Jerry Goldsmith's sublime score.

Because that's what fall is.

A lot of guys will tell you fall is football. They're wrong, because I once saw a shirt that said "Football is Life." Football can't be two things.

Others will tell you that fall represents aging and death. They're the sort of people who read books and have poetry blogs. Your best bet is to dangle a modifier in front of them. They'll bat it around for awhile until they get sleepy. Once they're out, turn on NPR at low volume, then go down to the basement and watch Hoosiers.

It's a good movie.

What's the Dealio

2006-10-09T20:00:00.000-07:00

Every now and again I'll catch a few minutes of NBC's gameshow "Deal or No Deal." The premise is some guy randomly picks a bunch of numbered briefcases, and if the briefcases have small monetary values inside them, Howie Mandel congratulates the guy with a fist-pound.

The show makes me so mad. First, everyone acts as though there's a skill to picking the briefcases. And it's worse when they ask their family members for advice.

Guy: "What number should I pick, mom?"

Mom: "Oh....Oh....."

Guy: "It's Ok, mom, you can do it! I believe in you!"

Mom: "Oh...18! Go with 18!"

Guy (clapping his hands): Yeah! Yeah!

Howie: "Oh no! 500,000 dollars. That's not good."

Guy: "Crap. Well, I still need another number."

Mom: "Why don't you try..."

Guy: "No no. Your numbers are worthless. What do you think, Dad?."

Dad: "How bout 19?"

Guy (clapping his hands): "Yeah...yeah...19! Great pick!"

* * *
It's random you moron. Stop acting smug when you do well and go apologize to your mom -- she feels like a failure.

I also hate when the guy eliminates large values, like $75,000, and then he acts all excited because it wasn't $1,000,000. Don't act excited. You chose a bad case -- randomly, of course.

The only time the guy will act really disappointed is if he eliminates the million dollar case -- as if he had a real chance of winning the million dollars in the first place. The whole point of the show is to get a good deal from "the banker," and the only way to do that is to not randomly select high values -- like $75,000.

So why do you act excited, guy, when you decrease your odds of winning lots of money? Either you're morally opposed to having money -- in which case you're wasting everyone's time by being on the show -- or you're a moron. (You know which one gets my vote.)

As I was watching the show, the Jilb caught me getting angry.

"Why are you getting angry?" she asked.

"Stupid people annoy me."

"There's a lot of stupid people in the world."

"And they all annoy me."

* * *
Do I think you're stupid? Yes. Don't worry, I am too.

I don't know anything about cars. Or chemistry (I let John do all the work during labs while I stole us extra supplies from other lab-stations). We're all stupid in some way.

Am I annoyed by you? Not most of the time. Just promise me you won't appear on any gameshows.

Don't Waste Your Time

2006-10-05T12:11:00.000-07:00

I saw the Fire-starters -- a band of talented musicians and dancers -- perform last weekend. "Restoring the arts" is their message. They sing, they play, they paint, they dance, and they encourage others to do the same.

Unless DDR or Fiddler on the Roof is somehow involved, dancing's not really my thing. But the large room, dim-lighting, and hypnotic blend of rock and tribal music all contributed to an ideal setting for experimentation.

I was on the right side of the room, a few rows back, clutching the chair in front of me and drumming my hands on it every so often. And then, slowly, I began to move with the chair. After a few moments, I stopped.

What a great metaphor, I thought. I'm using this chair in the same way that young children learning to ice skate often grasp onto little plastic chairs to keep their balance. Our first attempts are awkward and unsteady, but the chair offers support.

Then I thought, What a great thing to blog about later! Then I reprimanded myself. No. You've been over this before. These moments should be enjoyed now and reflected upon later. Idiot. Then I reconsidered. If I don't reflect and ponder now, what's to say I'll even remember this moment in a day or so?

And so I went, back and forth. By the time I finished my little internal argument, the night was half over.

I have a problem.

I've written on the issue of manipulating events before, but I think my problem goes beyond a mere desire for "blogable" material. After all, what causes that desire? Why do I blog at all?

Because the time I spend blogging is beneficial -- not wasted.

It's the same reason I haven't sat on the toilet in ten years without a book or newspaper to read -- or, at the very least, a handheld videogame to play. Without such "multitasking," time on the toilet it wasted.

It's the same reason I used to hate taking the dog outside. Sure, taking the time to make sure the dog didn't pee on the carpet was beneficial, but the extended prelude -- watching him trot around the yard, sniffing twigs and chasing leaves -- was a waste of my time. A waste until I began thinking about it productively. There's got to be a metaphor in all the leaf chasing. Something about innocence? No, too easy. I'll think of something though...

I have a problem.

And I'm finding that most of the activities I try to make "productive" are already beneficial in some regard. Without using the toilet, I would die. If I didn't take the dog outside, the carpet would smell, and the dog would die.

The problem is, most of the everyday, mundane activities don't serve the all important Larger Purpose a.k.a. the really good book or movie I intend to make someday that will make me really famous and be really cool for me.

Noble, I know.

Writing a lot serves that purpose. Reading on the toilet serves that purpose. Constantly searching for metaphors serves that purpose.

And I need that purpose, or life, once again, becomes boring and mundane.

But what of my different purpose -- a higher, infinitely less self-absorbed purpose?

Can my Larger Purpose supplement my Ultimate Purpose? Or does relentlessly pursuing one purpose necessarily forsake the other?

And, placing the big question aside for the moment, the most maddening thing about all this time-wasting stuff is, as worried as I often am about frittering away my precious time, I can just as easily partake in extended time-wasting binges. I can watch four episodes of House in a row and not think twice about it, but heaven forbid I eat a bowl of cereal without simultaneously reading a newspaper or staring at a computer screen.

I have a problem.

But I've wasted enough time on this post already.

Apples and Oranges

2006-09-27T07:00:00.000-07:00

I wrote the following essay, handed out copies to my class, and told them to turn it into an "A" paper.

I am not a nice person.

* * *
Apples and Oranges:
A Comparative Analysis

This paper is going to be about apples and oranges I believe why there so alike and nonalike. One reason I think that apples are more different then oranges is cause you probably herd someone say “an apple a day keeps the doctor away” but you don’t here somebody saying that about oragnes.

One other reason why those to are so different is that because one is named after a computer company and while the other one is named for a famous county on FOX.

If you take everything into consideration and stop to ponder for a moment (or two) u cant help but notice that the most important way that apples and oranges are different is that apple rhymes with hundreds of words grapple snapple and almost crackle are just some of the many words that rhyme together; while orange rhymes with nothing. not actually nothing though LOL

In conclusion one halloween night when the moon is almost half full I was 6 years old I got an apple for trick or treat, I brought it to are home to eat it. My mom seen me taking a bite so she says “you shouldn’t eat that apple”!!! Dumbfounded, the apple fell from my hand, I asked “why not”? My mom says “people put razer blades in them so that you will cut you’re gums and have to go to the dentist!”.

While she walked out of the room. I had seen where the apple laid on the floor, I picked it up from the floor and than I ate the hole thing. I was so scared when I ate that apple though so I never ate another apple again (I never ate another orange again cuz their gross and also orange juice smells like a pile of puke.

And so therefore that just goes to show you that an apple a day DOES NOT keep the dentist away. Fin.

Franklin Learns His ABCs

2006-09-26T09:00:00.000-07:00

(From "To Be Perfectly Frank")

Hey All, I've got a great Idea. I want to put together the Alphabet of Film, in which I choose one film for each letter of the alphabet. These should be the top twenty-six movies, even though our criteria are totally contrived and will necessarily exclude all the other great films that just happen to start with a duplicate letter.

* * *

It's a terrific post. Let's all go contribute.

A Conversation with George

2006-09-19T08:50:00.000-07:00

(In honor of my purchasing, for the first time, the Star Wars triology on DVD)

Reinman: Before we begin, I'd like to thank you for agreeing to participate in this chat. I'm sure you're a very busy man, what with all the preparations for Episodes VII, VIII, and IX.

George: Ha ha, no. There will be no more Star Wars movies. Always six, never nine. I'd check your source, son.

Reinman I am. And don't worry -- I'm eternally grateful that you're not making them.

George Ok. I don't have to put up with this, you know. I'm doing you a favor.

Reinman You're right. I apologize. But, to be honest, I think you want to put up with this.

George What do you mean?

Reinman I mean I think you leap at every chance to defend your prequels and abysmal "special editions."

George I don't consider them "special editions." Those are the movies I wanted to make -- and continue to make.

Reinman Continue?

George They may never be complete. There are always new and better ways to improve them. For instance, 3-D -- much like CG at the present -- is going to be the dominant film technology of the future, and Star Wars is going to lead the way. Imagine the final attack on the Death Star in 3-D. Imagine a trench that, instead of straight and narrow, dips and dives and curves and loops like a rollercoaster.

Reinman What!?

George Just kidding.

Reinman Oh.

George Maybe. But you really need to lighten up. These are just movies after all. My movies.

Reinman But they're not just your movies. They're movies millions of people fell in love with -- almost 30 years ago, I might add. If your movies aren't complete, what did all those people see?

George Drafts. Rough drafts.

Reinman You can't be serious.

George Why not? It's my creation. Why can't I decide when they're done? Why can't I be the one to say when they're perfect?

Reinman Because they'll never be perfect. And that was always part of the appeal. Those who loved the movies loved the flaws as well.

George But they don't have to be flawed. Eventually, they will be perfect.

Reinman Why? As if they were some great work of art to begin with. Star Wars is entertainment. The more you poke and prod and twist and distort, the less entertaining they become.

George I disagree.

Reinman I figured you might.

George Star Wars is successful and entertaining for two reasons 1) The universally relatable archetypal story and 2) Spectacular special effects. If I leave the first alone, and continue to make the second more spectacular, why wouldn't my newest version be more successful and entertaining?

Reinman You're right -- strong story and spectacular effects -- helped make it successful. But those weren't the only reasons. It's also successful because, on one hand, Star Wars is escapism and on the other hand, it's realism -- in that it looks almost like a place where we, the audience, could potentially live and work and have adventures. I'm referring to the well-doucmented "used" feel the Star Wars universe embodies -- a grimy, beat up, been around for many, many years "used" feel.

It's the same in the ultra-successful Lord of the Rings trilogy. They are successful for many of the same reasons that Star Wars is, and one of the major reasons is that "used, ancient" feel -- it's a place where people have lived and worked and died. It looks like a place where humanity has lived and the Star Wars universe -- the original Star Wars universe, at least -- looks like a place where humanity could live.

George The "special editons" don't change that.

Reinman They do, and they will continue to do so the more you tinker. Shiny, slick computer graphics don't look "used." And, much more importantly, a hyper-active moving, swooping camera doesn't make the action appear "grounded" or "used."

George Lord of the Rings used a "moving swooping" camera, and those movies -- according to your own admission -- didn't suffer for it.

Reinman But those movies were all made at the same time with a similar style. With Star Wars, you're trying to go back and fuse two different styles from two different eras of filmmaking. It would be like Peter Jackson, 20 years from now, incorporating 3-D elements into a handful of scenes here or there.

George That would be cool.

Reinman That would be stupid. And, I fear, that this road has no end. In your continuing drive to make your movies "perfect," you will continue to move them further and further away from what made them successful. In short, you're trying to make your original trilogy be like the prequels.

You're turning this:

Into this:

George Ouch.

Reinman Yeah. Ouch.

George What should I do?

Reinman Stop. Just stop. Leave the movies as they are. But, if you do have to change anything, please give the rancor an enormous spiked collar and dog-tags, so we know for sure that it's really someone's pet.

George That was a test, right?

Reinman Right.

George I have to admit, I was getting pretty excited about the rancor thing. This is gonna be tough.

Reinman Some would say impossible. But it's fun to imagine the possibility.

Because I don't have a projector of my own...

2006-09-14T09:41:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, in preparation for an upcoming assignment, I had my class compare and contrast two movie sequences. The first was the market place fight from Raiders of the Lost Ark (from Marion being thrown onto the hay cart to the Nazi truck blowing up) the second was the "100 mile dash" sequence from The Incredibles.

And no, the integrity of the exercise was not my primary consideration in choosing those particular clips.

But they ended up working pretty well anyway. The class picked up on just about everything I had hoped -- from movement (running to and running from), to the similarities of the "faceless" adversaries, to the setting (crowds of people and dense jungle both serving as obstacles), to music setting a similar tone for each -- sespensful yet light-hearted and fun.

You can compare and contrast anything.

(And for those of you who think I should have compared "100 mile dash" to the speeder bike chase in Return of the Jedi are forgetting that this is a college-level course, and the exercises are supposed to be challenging -- that, and I don't own Return of the Jedi on DVD yet.)

Books on the Right-Hand Shelf of My Computer Desk

2006-09-05T12:37:00.000-07:00

(From left to right)

Star Wars Treasury - A treasure indeed. Ms. Bandemer, my 10th grade English teacher, found the picture book collection in her mother's attic and gave it to me as a gift. I'm not sure how she knew I was such a big Star Wars fan. I must give off some sort of pheromone. That, or she noticed the space battles in the margins of every assignment.

World Atlas: notebook (Rand McNally) - Another gift (buying stuff is for suckers). I don't remember who it was from, but I got it in the seventh grade. I hang onto it because it remains relatively current, but I have to admit, I'm disappointed by the enormous blank spaces in the oceans. Those spaces should be filled with something useful, such as sketches of enormous sea-serpents, or continental values for additional armies.

Halo 2: The Official Guide - Came free with my special edition copy of the Halo 2 videogame. Let's move on.

NFL.com 2006 Fantasy Football Preview - It was left at my house by the Hermit during a not-so-recent visit. I am not playing in a fantasy football league this year, and, in fact, have come to despise fantasy football for detracting from my enjoyment of the actual teams in the NFL. So, naturally, I read the Fantasy Football Preview cover to cover.

The Incredibles: Supers to the Rescue - A coloring book the Jilb bought for me, because coloring it awesome. (The selling point was a cut-out of a bedroom door-knob hanger that read "Super Kid Inside." It continues to hang on the door to this room. I am a super kid.)

Jane Austen: Three Complete Novels - One of Jill's books. I've never read a Jane Austen novel, despite continual urgings from my friend Franklin (and I would imagine I'll be getting the same from a certain Thooft). I have, however, seen the film version of Sense and Sensibility and about ten minutes of Pride and Prejudice. But if the track record for current book-to-film adaptations is any indication, the movie versions are way better than the novels anyway. (Brace yourself, Reinman.)

Rabbits for Dummies - Rabbits are so Fall 2005.

Understanding Flying - From ages 10 to 14, I really wanted to be a pilot. Then, once I began ninth grade, I suddenly didn't want to be one anymore. Never quite figured that one out.

Fierce Pajamas: An Anthology of Humor Writing from The New Yorker - The ratio of funny essays to crappy essays is about one to four. But the good essays are about the best examples of humor writing you'll find.

Catch-22: I already posted about this book, so go reread that one. Anyway, once again, it's a terrific novel, and I encourage you all not to read it.

The Star Wars Trilogy - In seventh grade, I loaned my copy to John Greuling and never saw it again. So a couple years ago, I broke down and bought another copy from B. Dalton. I remember the cashier was sniggering at me as I bought it, so I got her back by reading an article about Randy Moss in Sports Illustrated without buying the magazine. Bwahaha! Then I burned down the store.

Anyway, of the three novelizations, Star Wars is the only one worth reading. It was also the only one written by George Lucas, which I considered to be a major accomplishment, until the Colonel informed me that he had used a ghost writer. Shame on you, George, for disappointing me once again. Shame on you and your multi-million dollar empire and your inane prequels and your infuriating special editions and your smug, bearded interviews. (I'm still going to buy your DVDs a week from now.)

Star Wars - The stand-alone copy of the same text I discussed above. It's worth having by itself because, as I said, it's head and shoulders above the other two crappy novelizations. And as a stand-alone piece, it can be considered legitimate literature. No, I am not a nerd.

The Empire Strikes Back - Ok, yes I am.

Peter Rabbit - This children's book was my first significant exposure to the world of literature. I'm thinking of making it the only required textbook for my writing class next semester. It's just the sort of thing a hip, young professor would do - using something simple and extracting every teachable moment from it. Also, it's a pain to prepare for class with the big, heavy textbook I'm using now. I keep forgetting that when I assign enormous, difficult readings, I should probably do them myself.

That, or I can blog.

Two Types of Baggers

2006-09-01T10:57:00.000-07:00

There are two types of baggers - those who see a mountain of groceries piling up at the end of a till and rush forward to help, and those who avoid that till like the plague.

Of course, there are also two other types of baggers - those who have a birthday in the month of August, and those who don't.

And then there are those who choose to bag with paper, and those who choose to bag with Emily - who's working in the express lane.

And let us not forget those who eat the food that someone leaves in the breakroom fridge, and those who need to be punched in the stomach.

And finally, there are those who purposely crush your bread because they're annoyed with you, and those that crush your bread because they're thinking about their next post.

Please don't get us confused.

Name-tags

2006-08-28T12:01:00.000-07:00

We got a puppy on Saturday. I taught College Writing this morning.

But I'm not here to talk about that.

I'm here to talk about name-tags.

The worst part about being for-sed to wear a name-tag at work is that people are constantly noticing it. I bag some guy's groceries, carry them out, drop them in his trunk, and then he hands me three dimes and says, "Thanks, Aaron."

That never ceases to freak me out.

I mean, that's just weird. I'd much rather take a single quarter over three dimes, just for convenience. After all, I can buy an enormous gum-ball out of the machine for a quarter; I can't buy anything for three dimes.

The "calling me by my name" thing is pretty weird too.

Whenever that happens, I look at the guy and ask, "How do you know my name, you strange, creepy man?"

I don't say it out loud, of course. I say it in my head. But I do say it loudly in my head.

Then I remember my name-tag. "Don't look at it!" I say - and I do say that one out loud. They often roll their windows up before they drive away.

Recently, to counteract the weirdness of strangers calling me by my name, I've taken to looking at their checkbooks or credit cards when they pay for their groceries.

"Thanks, Aaron," they say in the parking lot.

"No, problem, Henry James Pritchard, account number 4815-1623-4232-7421, exp. date 10/07. Have a good day!"

If they pay in cash, I memorize their license plate number, do a little research, and call them later that night.

It's all in the continuing name of great service.

Big-time Dilemma

2006-08-26T10:03:00.000-07:00

I was sitting in front of the TV, staring at a big-time dilemma. This particular TV was located in the breakroom at my grocery store (yes, my grocery store - I own it, but I still bag groceries on occasion, cause it's fun), and I was sitting in front of the TV because what else was I supposed to do on my break? Read?

I had been flipping through the channels and noticed that Star Trek: TNG was on. TNG (along with Sesame Street, Square One, and Ducktales) raised me as a child, and I really wanted to watch it, except that - DILEMMA - I knew that a male-teenaged bagger was coming to the breakroom shortly - a decidedly un-nerdy male-teenaged bagger. The sort of bagger raised on the M-TV.

Save for the near-supernatural uniting force of Minnesota Twins baseball, the M-TV is the programming of choice in the breakroom.

And I knew male-teenaged bagger would want to watch the M-TV. And, worse yet, I knew that male-teenaged bagger would definitely not want to watch ST:TNG.

So there I sat with my dilemma - keep the channel where it was and watch the show I wanted to, or give into not-quite-my-peer pressure and change it to the M-TV.

It was a difficult choice, but I had a couple variables on my side. First, I had arrived in the breakroom before male-teenaged bagger, which meant I had first-rights to the TV. And second, as assistant regional manager, I could fire him.

(Not really. But I could make him clean up the backroom - which is almost as bad.)

As I heard his footsteps approaching the breakroom, I weighed the pros and cons and came to a decision: I would hold my ground and watch my show.

Then, as his footsteps grew even closer to the breakroom, I changed my mind and turned the channel to the M-TV.

I am a coward.

(Mr. Hollom from Master and Commander is pictured at the top because he was the first coward that came to the top of my head. Discussion Question: Who are other notable movie or literature cowards?)

The Catch

2006-08-24T07:13:00.000-07:00

I don't go to blogs to read something good; I go to blogs to read something new. Each time I click on a blog-link and see the same old boring page, I've wasted two seconds of my life. And two seconds times a million adds up to a lot of seconds.

"Well, Reinman, you only post like, what, once every two weeks?"

Yeah. I know. Shut up. That's why I'm writing about this. I've decided, in the interest of blog readers everywhere, that instead of writing a medium-length good post once every week and a half or so, I'm going to write a short, crummy post every other day.

Except on weekends. And also not on days that I teach. Or on days that I'm too busy. Or on days that I have nothing to do but don't feel like blogging.

So basically, the posts will be just as infrequent as they are now, except instead of being long and good, they'll be short and crummy. Done and done.

* * *

The subject of this short, crummy post: Catch-22. Ever since I finished reading that book, I've been calling everything a catch-22, whether it is one or not.

For instance, for the past few weeks, a cereal box has sat in the cuboard with only a handful of crushed multi-colored crumbs sliding around the bottom. I couldn't throw the box away, because it still had cereal in it, but I couldn't finish it off, because it didn't have enough to fill a bowl. See, catch-22.

The Jilb found the box this morning.

"Why are we saving this?"

"Catch-22," I say.

She shakes the box.

"Oh, I see..." she says. I nod. Then she throws the box into the garbage can.

"Catch!" she instructs the can.

Fine. She wins this round. I just hope she doesn't find my stash of pens that are almost out of ink.

Thunder-ants

2006-08-15T17:13:00.000-07:00

It is now two weeks until I begin teaching College Writing, and I am becoming increasingly grateful for my 12th grade English teacher. The voice of Bergan continues to guide my writing, and I can only hope to imitate that voice in my own classroom - however cheap an imitation it might be.

"No THEE-sis . . ."

On a related note, I began my teaching-prep coursework today. Here's a little in-class writing assignment I did based on the prompt, "Describe what it's like when you're writing well."

* * *

I know I'm writing good poetry when I've got the rhyming dictionary open at my side. "Underpants and Thunder-ants. Brilliant!"

I know I'm writing a good essay when I've gone for more than five minutes without the MS Word red squiggly appearing under one of my words.

It doesn't happen very often.

The problem is, I'm a sucker for helpful writing maxims, such as "i" before "e" except after "c." But that doesn't work for words like efficient, or even ceramics. And MS Word doesn't really help matters, either. I spell "efficient" wrong, and it gives me all sorts of terrific suggestions, like "effeminating."

That's not even close. I'm pretty sure it's not even a real word.

But I put it in anyway, because that's what the MS Word talking paper clip tells me to do, and I don't want to get on that guy's bad side. He could totally screw up my carefully spaced margins, just out of spite.

Another way I know I'm writing well is if Blogger uploads my pictures right away. I mean, what's the point of writing something like, "Check out the mustache on that guy!" if there's no accompanying picture of said guy? More often than not, I'll just end up deleting the entire post. Stupid Blogger.

And finally, in the classroom, the quality of my notes is inversely proportional to the number of doodled TIE Fighters in the margin. Just something to keep in mind this week.

It's the 17th Annual Blurry Photo Caption Contest!!!

2006-08-12T19:33:00.000-07:00

Whip it good

2006-08-06T10:08:00.000-07:00

The theme at my grocery store this weekend was Country Fest . . . or maybe Country Jamboree . . . or Western Days . . . or even Western Daze. I don't really know for sure - I just work there.

Anyway, the point is that everyone had to dress up like a cowboy or, at the very least, a cowgirl. I chose cowboy.

Unfortunately, I don't own too many cowboy clothes. The closest thing I have is my special edition Tombstone DVD case, which I thought about duct taping to the front of my shirt, but decided against it because everyone would be so jealous of its awesomeness.

And so it was the Colonel and Beckymom to the rescue.

On the day they helped the Jilb and I move into our house (which one of us will post about, I promise, just as soon as we defeat the giant mutant spider invasion from hell) they dropped off a bag full of cowboy gear including:

1. A flannel shirt (I seriously didn't own a single one)
2. A toy gun belt (a bit scary that it still almost fit)
3. A hat (one of the colonel's - or general's - trademark hats)
4. Cowboy boots (the festivities lasted two days - my feet hurt so badly after stomping around in those boots the first day that I decided to wear them again the second day)

Toward the end of the first day, I received the highest compliment imaginable - namely, that I looked like Indiana Jones. I had been secretly hoping that someone would notice.

I mean, if you take away my glasses, little beard, red bandana, blue shirt, remove the grocery store setting, and wipe that silly grin off my face, the resemblance is uncanny.

I brought along a whip, too, and kept it coiled at my side for the entire second day. As night manager, I liked the message it sent to my crew. They knew that at the first sign of cap-gun related horseplay, I would unleash the whip and rent the air with a deafening CRACK!

There would be silence. Then they would begin shooting each other again, hoping that I would crack the whip one more time.

And I would.

I love Star Wars!

2006-08-03T15:03:00.000-07:00

You do too. Go watch this.

the reply

2006-07-22T18:05:00.000-07:00

Within hours I received a reply from Kissing Violet, the band responsible for The Way I Am (Belief of Unique).

I was a little anxious about their response. I had intended my e-mail to be read by the staff at Unique Screen Media, not by the band itself, and I wasn't positive that the artists had understood and appreciated my particular blend of humor, i.e. mean-spirtied sarcasm.

But I never would've dreamed it would come to this.

No, freak rock-launching lawnmower accidents aside, David Vaughn, a member of Kissing Violet and founder of V-Star Records, was very gracious and even offered to track down the master of The Way I Am and send me a copy on CD.

I think he plans on delivering it by lawnmower.

On a completely unrelated note, I just finished reading Catch-22 by Joseph Heller. It's a terrific book, and I strongly encourage you all not to read it.

I don't have too much time on my hands.

2006-07-15T20:12:00.000-07:00

It's just that my priorities are different. This was an actual e-mail I sent to the marketing representative at Unique Screen Media.

* * *

Hi,

I see movies quite often, and the experience always includes a healthy dose of Unique Screen Media advertising.

And while my reaction to most of the ads falls between indifference to bemusement, there is always one clip, one moment, that enraptures me, stimulates my senses, and requires my complete and undivided attention. I am referring, of course, to the Unique Screen Media theme song.

You know the one I'm talking about. It's the one where the young, defiant rocker girl hollers out to the world: "Welcome to me and my belief of unique, the way I am!"

I love that song. I dare say that the song is a part of who I am.

And I must own a copy of it. I have already searched online, but unfortunately, a version does not seem available for download.

This is where I was hoping you could help me out. If you know of a way to get a version of that song -- be it downloadable or in hard copy -- into my hands, I would be eternally grateful. Also, it does not necessarily have to be a free copy -- I am prepared to pay a reasonable amount.

Thank you for taking the time to read this. I am sure you get hundreds, nay thousands, of similar requests a day, and I look forward to a timely reply.

But mostly, I look forward to being able to hear the "Belief of Unique" song whenever my heart desires. It's a crime that such a masterful, sublime anthem is confined to dark and lonely theaters.

Sincerely,

-Aaron

A Debate for the Ages

2006-07-10T10:44:00.000-07:00

vs.

Who wins? The critics say Superman. The box office says Pirates. I guess everyone in the industry is too much of a coward to pick a definitive winner, and they need someone with the wisdom, the insight, and the intestinal fortitude to step up, be a man, and declare a champion.

And I'm sure not gonna do it.

So we'll let this arbitrary list of comparative points decide the victor.

1. The Hero's Introduction:

Superman - We first see Superman hunched over in the fetal position underneath a burning mass of something that's supposed to look like the wreckage from some sort of fantastic intergalactic spaceship, but looks more like a giant tire fire. Also he's naked.

Pirates - Jack Sparrow shoots a stupid bird in the face.

winner: Pirates

2. 1st Big Action Scene

Superman - An experimental space shuttle launch - in which a jumbo jet "carries" the shuttle into the upper atmosphere - goes awry when the two flight craft become locked together seconds before the shuttle's rockets fire.

Superman flies up, dislodges the shuttle and sends it soaring safely into space, then races back down toward the jet. He dodges a couple of flaming wings, gains control of the jet, and gently sets it down in the middle of a baseball field, much to the delight of the thousands of fans in attendance, not to mention the worldwide television audience.

Pirates - Jack Sparrow catches fruit on either end of a long bamboo pole, then swings the mangos back at his captors. Meanwhile, his shipmates roll around the jungle in giant bone-spheres.

winner: Superman

3. Movies that were clearly an inspiration aside from the previous iterations of their respective series (meaning the first Pirates and Superman movies don't count in this category, especially Supermans 3 and 4 which everyone has conveniently decided to forget for the sake of humanity).

Superman - Hmmm, let's see. Narnia, The Matrix, Shane, E.T., Star Wars, The Passion of the Christ.

Pirates - The giant squid, the deranged captain playing the pipe organ, even the cannibal-island chase - all homages to one of the greatest underwater adventures ever told: Finding Nemo.

winner: Pirates

4. The villain.

Superman - Kevin Spacey was a great choice as Lex Luthor, and he has some fun moments, but it almost seems as though the movie is constantly crying out, "Isn't Kevin Spacey great as Lex Luthor??? Don't you love him like you loved the Joker???" No.

Pirates - Davy Jones isn't a misstep of grievous proportions, but what's with the trend of giving all these badass-looking villains wussy little girl voices? Old nostril-less octopus-face Davy Jones ended up sounding like Gretchen from Recess. (Who, in turn, sounds like Clark Peters from King of the Hill, but I couldn't find a picture of him.)

winner: The Empire Strikes Back

Conclusion: And thus, the final tally is Pirates 2; Superman 1; Empire Strikes Back 1.

Therefore, the winner and champion of this summer's blockbuster season is . . . The Empire Strikes Back.

Seriously. It kicks the crap out of the other two.

Great Service

2006-06-19T08:43:00.000-07:00

I find it difficult to blog during the summer (Why blog when you can wiffle?). So, for the next few weeks (or months), instead of coming up with new material, I'm going to post stuff I've written for various classes.

"Great Service" was the last thing I wrote for the BFA writing program. And they still let me graduate.

* * *

I bag groceries for a living. Well, no. If this was my living, I would grab a plastic bag, throw it over my head, and tie the handles securely around my neck. Then the night manager would tell me to untie it and put it back, because each plastic bag costs a penny, which may not sound like a lot, but every single penny matters when competing against those Wal-Mart jerks.

But beating Wal-Mart isn’t only about saving penny bags and going on sabotage missions at three in the morning to rearrange their carefully shelved items. No, it’s about service.

That’s why I got into the grocery bagging business in the first place—I wanted to give great service. (That, and I have absolutely no useful skills, unless you call being a master at Hungry Hungry Hippos a skill. Unfortunately, most employers don’t, although I still list it on my applications.)

And so, every weekday evening between four and eleven, I give great service. How? Here’s a typical example.

A lady with gray hair full of curlers and a red shopping cart full of bread and cat food pulls up to the register. For me, great service always begins with a simple question—“Paper or plastic?” I don’t ask the lady, of course. I ask the cashier, because the cashier is trained to handle people. I am trained to handle jars of pickles.

“Paper or plastic?” the cashier asks.

“Paper in plastic,” responds the lady with the curlers.

“Paper in plastic,” the cashier tells me, emphasizing the “in,” because us baggers tend to be a little slow. That’s why we’re not cashiers.

“That wasn’t one of the options,” I say. But the cashier has already begun scanning items and must not risk breaking her intense concentration to acknowledge me.

Paper in plastic is the bane of baggers everywhere. It requires that large, blocky paper bags be opened and placed within tiny, amorphous plastic bags, which—according to every single law of physics—is impossible. If the good Lord had intended for paper to go inside of plastic, He would have pre-wrapped the world’s trees in giant black Hefty bags.

Well, last I checked, that wasn’t the case, and still, when old ladies hear the paper or plastic question, they seem taken aback. They look as if they had just been asked whether they wanted a peanut or butter sandwich.

Even so, every weekday evening between four and eleven, it’s my job—nay, my duty—to give great service. So I smile and nod and mash the two bags together, ripping and tearing and sweating and cursing until I end up with a conglomeration that looks akin to that one kid’s costume in the third grade play that clearly wasn’t made by his mother—the one with the cardboard tube-arm glued to the side of his head.

Monstrosity in hand, I break procedure and address the lady directly. “I’m only making one of these, so the bag might get a little heavy.”

Without glancing up from her pink-leather covered checkbook, she replies, “Yeah, whatever. Just don’t crush the bread.”

Bread is the one bit of leverage that baggers have. Bread is more precious than gold, and we control its fate. Be nice to the bagger, and the bread enjoys a safe, smash-free ride home. Be mean, and the bagger will take it upon himself to ensure that the bread ends up beneath a couple cases of beer and a bag of water-conditioner salt.

Emptying the counter, I pack the bag as densely as I can until it weighs about as much as a Buick.

“It’s not too heavy, is it?” curlers asks.

“Nope” I say while lifting the two handles. They immediately break off, while the bag itself remains firmly attached to the counter—which has began to creak and sag under the weight.

“It’s just one bag, you should be able to handle it,” I inform her.

She takes her receipt from the cashier. “Yeah, fine. But I don’t see the bread? You didn’t crush it in the bottom of the bag, did you?”

With complete and total sincerity I say, “No ma’am, your bread is fine.”

She grunts. Then, in a supernatural display of strength, she hoists up the bag with her non-pursed arm, and leaves the store. I smile, satisfied and content, knowing that I did everything I could to make sure the lady received great service—right down to keeping her bread safe. I wanted to keep the bread so safe, in fact, that I didn’t even bother packing it in the bag.

Let’s see Wal-Mart top that kind of service.

Big-Time Movie Guy

2006-06-02T11:19:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I was approached by a local media organization about doing some scriptwriting and video editing for a state-wide summer camp promotional campaign.

After a half-hour meeting on the phone, I took the job. (No, it's not full-time, meaning that I will faithfully continue my duties as Keeper of the bags and Defender of all manner of pickle jars, great and small.)

The good news is, taking the job means I'm one step closer to becoming a Big-Time Movie Guy - a goal which, as you will see, continues to go perfectly according to plan.

The Master Plan:

Steps to becoming a Big-Time Movie Guy

1. Spend the first 15 years of my life watching - in a continuous, VHS recorded loop - Ducktales, Tailspin, Star Wars, and The Tick. (check)

2. Make three short movies in high school about a bottle of salsa. (check)

3. Make three short movies in college not about a bottle of salsa. (check)

4. Take a break from all the silly little shorts to do a serious, documentary-style piece about the growing problem of modern-day vikings terrorizing college campuses. (check)

5. Help the professor make a feature-length movie that happens to be a bit light on typical film conventions, such as plot, but is heavy on the stuff that really matters, such as me crashing into things, the professor liberally administering single deuces, and Soda Popinski. (check)

6. Maintain my daily afternoon routine of playing with paper hats, paper boats, and my teddy bear, Rupert. Have the good fortune of the professor one day filming me unawares. (check)

7. Write a script about a young man with the extraordinary power to do anything. Then make the movie using exactly one special effect (that is, if you consider fishing line a "special effect"). (check)

8. Throw four Tombstone pizzas in a paper bag, cabbage and oranges in plastic with grapes on top, and leave the Deli meal out so you don't spill the gravy. (check)

9. Get paid to write a shooting script for a promo about nine Minnesota summer camps you've never heard of, let alone been to. (half-check)

10. Have Steven Spielberg show up at your door with an enormous sack full of money. "Here, take this and make a big-time movie." "Ok."

Almost there . . .

Things I love to do

2006-05-22T13:19:00.000-07:00

1. Make movies

2. Play wiffle ball

My dream job would be to make a movie about playing wiffle ball . . . starring Billy Dee Williams.

2006-05-22T13:17:00.000-07:00

Speechless

2006-05-16T08:08:00.000-07:00

John Corbett, you are amazing. Is there anything you can't do?

I'm a graduation guy (tomorrow)

2006-05-11T07:47:00.000-07:00

Alias: The Movie

2006-05-10T09:05:00.000-07:00

The Jilb and I saw Mission Impossible III the other day, even though some people are refusing to see it because Tom Cruise is a psycho.

But I decided that wasn't going to stop me from seeing a (potentially) good movie.

I mean, do I have to stop watching The Hunt for Red October just because Alec Baldwin turned out to be a red actor?

How many movies include only well-adjusted, emotionally-stable actors and actresses?

Eight. And I've already seen them all.

So we went. The verdict?

Good. Not as fresh or smart as the first Mission: Impossible, but about a trillion times better than M:I 2.

There were a lot of trademark J.J. Abrams /Alias-inspired moments (two agents "arguing" in public to create a distraction, pop-music blaring an unconventional time, and all sound fading at an emotionally-heightened moment save for a series of heartfelt piano chords) .

There were also a couple of nice homages to the first M:I (some not so subtle) along with a musical cue taken from the original series (the military-style theme, with the driving snare beat).

And there was a very mean - yet understated - Phillip Seymour Hoffman.

It's difficult for me to say (considering how increasingly sucky the show became), but the movie was at its best when Abrams unashamedly did his "Alias" thing. The Vatican heist mixed in a little of "the Embassy" from the first M:I along with a lot of Alias flavor, and the result was the movie's best sequence.

The movie was at its worst when Tom and Phillip had a manly-man wrestling match on the floor of some dumpy Chinese apartment. Yeah, great finale, guys. I was hoping instead, as all the trailers let me to believe, that they would try to shout each other to death.

It was pretty good, though. And if nothing else, it was nice to see that former Viking's head coach Mike Tice was able to find some new work. (see Davian's guard - and curse the internet for not having more screenshots up.)

Triple Feature

2006-05-04T06:08:00.000-07:00

The intramural softball championship game is tonight at 5:00. The team is excited. We're all physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually ready to defend our crown.

Oh yeah. And also...

@ 7:00

and

@ 8:00

Ed Arts 115. Be there.

Not to be greedy but...

2006-04-27T12:45:00.000-07:00

The voting for the Minnesota Regional Film Fest critic's choice award is being done online.

So if you liked "Prelude," you can vote for it here.

Official Site

2006-04-25T15:34:00.000-07:00

The Doing Anything Movie site is now officially up and running.

It's quite a bit different than the script site, and it's free of spoilers.

So go check it out.

2nd Win(d)

2006-04-23T12:34:00.000-07:00

We wrapped up shooting on Doing Anything yesterday with another trip to Gunderson's yard, a quiet shot by the lake, an exterior of Oak hall, and an hour or so of Halo in my apartment.

The colonel made the two hour drive yesterday to do about 15 minutes of shooting, then immediately made the two hour drive back. He was happy to do it (I think) and, of course, he has my gratitude.

And while I'm in the thanking mood, I want Andi and the Professor to know how much I appreciate all the time and hard work they put in.

The Professor was at my side for nearly every single minute of every shoot, and his assistance was invaluable. And Andi, who I know is an extremely busy person, sacrificed just about every Saturday for the past couple months to help me out - and she did a terrific job.

As for me, I decided to take a day off from editing. I'll begin again once I catch my second wind.

And speaking of which, the Professor gave me a call last night, informing me that "Prelude" went on to take 1st place at the Minnesota Regional Film Fest.

So Yay!

2006-04-20T11:02:00.000-07:00

If you attend BSU, you will begin to see these everywhere.

Musings on Mortality

2006-04-18T11:30:00.000-07:00

By now, most of you have heard about the film fest win for "Prelude," so I won't say too much more about it, other than that I was impressed by the overall quality of the entries.

This was my fourth Beaver Film Fest, and this year had, by far, the best batch of films yet. Watch them here.

Also, the presentation of the films was quick and streamlined, and the sound and video quality were superb. So kodos to all who were involved.

Those who attended also saw a brief teaser for Doing Anything, which I prepared specifically for the film fest.

It turned out pretty well (it will be available online shortly), but I would rather talk about the preparation of that teaser - specifically the bizarre, morbid thoughts I had while making it.

I was about two thirds done editing the thing, and I was taking a break to see the professor. While I was crossing the street, I couldn't get a series of nagging thoughts out of my mind.

If I got hit by a car right now, how would my teaser turn out? Would people know how to finish it? Have I left enough clues? Would it be dedicated to me? Would my death pretty much mean an automatic win for "Prelude"?

Then, the more I thought about it, the more I realized I've been having thoughts like that on a regular basis for the past four years, beginning around the time I was storyboarding "The Notebook." But, as I recall, the thinking at that time was practically based. If I die, are these storyboards clear enough to eventually make the movie?

It was a worthwhile question that produced detailed storyboards. But since then, the nature of the question has devolved into reverie at best and paranoia at worst.

Why do I have these death thoughts every time I'm working on a film?

Do they mean something?

Have I become too obsessed with my work?

And when are my iPods going to come?

2 films 2nite (and now my fingers are bleeding)

2006-04-12T06:40:00.000-07:00

Leave it to the annual film fest to end the posting drought. The Beaver Film Fest (formerly known by its Apple name, "Sundance") is tonight at 7:00 in the Beaux Arts Ballroom.

I will have two films playing.

The first is a promo for Doing Anything. After long hours of agonizing debate, I decided not to make a trailer on the grounds that trailers are tough to make. Rather, I selected two brief clips to show (much like the late night talk show movie promo format). The clips, obviously, are not part of the competition.

My second film, Prelude, is in the competition. Here's a screenshot from it. (It's the same one I used before because I'm too lazy to grab another one.)

Those who attend the film fest will see a few small similarities between the clips for Doing Anything and the Rupert short. (The title Prelude was no accident.)

I'm feeling good about Prelude's chances to win this year, but then again, I feel that way every year about every film I'm even the slightest bit involved with. (I was outraged last year that the Starting Tomorrow trailer didn't come away with at least eight awards.)

But then, most years, I walk away with all my hopes and dreams crushed. I sit in a bitter circle with my friends, and we talk about how much we hate film festivals, and how we're going to sabotage the next one by submitting a hundred crappy movies -- movies like a guy watching a bowl of soup in the microwave for five minutes -- and then we all go cry ourselves to sleep.

Well, this year is different. This year, in mental preparation for the film fest, I have set my hopes so incredibly high, that there is no possible way they can be crushed.

Would be crushers would need, like, a thousand little step ladders to reach my hopes.

I'll see (some of) you tonight.

Doing Anything Update

2006-04-02T15:10:00.000-07:00

The premiere of my 30 minute short film Doing Anything will be on Thursday, May 4 at 7:00 pm in EA 115 (the same theater that held the Starting Tomorrow premiere).

Here are some screenshots to hold you over.

I play Michael.

Andi plays Elaine.

The colonel plays Old Man Gunderson.

And Bob Fox reprises the role of "Robbo" from Starting Tomorrow.

Spoiler Alert

These screenshots were created for my online script as part of a class project. After every shoot, I post a picture from that scene. So if you would like to see screenshots from other scenes or are interested in how much progress we've made, you should go take a look.

But be warned, it is, in fact, an online script - which means that it's pretty much the ultimate spoiler. If you don't want to know much about the film before you see it, then don't click on the link.

But if the spoilerness doesn't bother you, then check out the online script here.

Enjoy.

Let's Make Some Memories!

2006-03-29T08:12:00.000-08:00

A running joke in the Reini household is that if you're trapped into doing some mind-numbingly boring thing, look on the bright side: at least it will give you something to blog about.

Stuck at the funeral-like office birthday party? Blog about it later!

Bagging groceries for hour after hour, day after day? Save up your stories for that killer post!

Blogging has even become a justification for willing participation in similarly craptastic activities.

In other words, now certain masochistic bloggers - myself included - don't merely suffer through chick flicks, we gleefully pop them into our DVD players, salivating at the chance to blog about their apparent crappiness. (This applies to other bad movies as well.)

And I don't really have a problem with this. If we wish to gleefully torment ourselves for the sake of our blogs, more power to us. After all, we're not really hurting anything but our own rapidly degenerating brain cells.

But what happens when we apply that same principle to things we would normally enjoy outright?

For instance, I recently blogged about my first live Timberwolves game. I had a blast. I even got to have a brief chat with one of my favorite players.

But as I stood there above the tunnel, watching the Maddog shuffle in my direction, I had one thought and one thought alone - this is going to make a great post.

And you know what? The meeting did, in fact, provide some pretty good material. But as I was standing there, waiting in the moment, should the blog have been foremost on my mind? Should great post-material be the subtext behind every fun, exciting moment? What if I had been thinking the same thing while standing at the altar at my wedding?

And furthermore, did thinking about the blog while waiting for the Maddog ultimately influence our conversation? In all honesty, it might have.

And that's where it all gets a little weird. Moments like that should first be enjoyed for what they are, and then later reflected upon - not consciously manipulated to provide good blog material.

But the weirdest thing of all is that I think this sort of practice applies beyond blogs - I know it was something I did long before I even knew what a "blog" was.

How often, for instance, have you heard someone say, "Let's make some memories!"? Ok, probably never. But I know you've thought it. We all have.

And wanting to make memories is fine - it's good and beneficial to remember and reflect and appreciate and learn.

But, again, what happens when we manipulate events strictly for the purpose of "creating" a memory?

The first time I kissed the young woman who became my wife, I had entertained the idea all evening. But I didn't act on it - at least not until I heard a song in the background that I knew I would remember. After all, I knew the moment was going to make an important memory, and so what better way to remember it forever and ever than to "tag" it with a song?

Silly? Of course.

But what does it mean? Was I manipulating life, or is such manipulation a natural part of life?

And, most importantly, what does the wise man have to say about the issue?

Birthday Weekend Extravaganza

2006-03-20T11:14:00.000-08:00

Birthday Weekend Extravaganza began with receiving a Tippmann A-5 paintball marker from my family, continued with a strong showing by the Jilb and I at Rustproof's DDR competition, and concluded with a surprise trip to the cities to see Sunday's T-Wolves / Kings game.

The Pregame

I had never been to a T-Wolves game before, so I wanted to be sure to experience everything - which meant it was crucial to arrive at the Target Center a full two hours before the game. I was glad we did, though, because Jill, myself, and about a dozen other fans were treated to watching the "Maddog" Mark Madsen take about 92,000 ten-foot jump shots (of which, he probably missed 91, 995). He didn't play in the game, by the way.

(Maddog tosses up another one)

Maddog was cool, though, because before heading back into locker room, he was the only player to sign everything that was handed to him from over the tunnel. I was there, over the tunnel, taking pictures but was lamenting that I had nothing for him to sign. Then the Jilb reminded me that the back of my e-ticket paper would work pretty well.

So she snapped some photos while I had the following intelligent conversation with Mr. Madsen.

Me (handing him my paper): "You're the man, Maddog."

Maddog (signing and giving the paper back): "No, you are."

Me (thinking for a split second about this, then finally): "No, you are."

Maddog (walking away down the tunnel): "No, you are, baby!"

Needless to say, he's remained, in recent years, one of my all time favorite players.

(The Maddog signed for everybody)

The Game

It was impeccable timing that my first live T-Wolves game also happened to be on the same day as, arguably, KG's most dominant performance of the year. He scored a season-high 37 points, and was involved in the highlight of the afternoon - running a fast break with Ricky Davis and throwing down the alley-oop with authority.

And, when the game was tight down the stretch, he made 5 of 6 pressure free-throws, along with a difficult 18 foot jumper to ice the game.

He was a joy to watch.

Other notes: With the Wolves struggling to score in the second quarter, rookie Rashad McCants made several timely jump shots to keep his team afloat. (He also was the last one out on the court shooting during the pregame shoot around.) And, with the Kings making a run in the fourth quarter, he took the ball on the wing, flew through the lane, and dropped in a ridiculous reverse lay-up, effectively breaking the Kings' momentum.

He only played about 20 minutes, but he made the most of his time on the floor. He'll be fun to watch in years to come.

Final Score: Timberwolves, 95 - Kings, 89

Thanks, the Jilb, for a great weekend.

Feeling All Right, Sir?

2006-03-16T12:05:00.000-08:00

I recently applied for a graduate assistantship (GA) in the English department at BSU. A GA would mean that my graduate credits for the next two years would be paid for, and I would receive an additional $4000 per semester for teaching a section of College Writing.

That would be, what is known as, "A good thing."

And on this, the day of my 22nd birthday, I received the reply.

The verdict...

Important Business

2006-03-08T22:33:00.000-08:00

I apologize for my lack of posting. I've been busy shooting this movie.

And editing this one.

The Jilb already posted some behind the scenes pictures of the latter. Here are some more.

It's a classic scene you'll find in just about every movie -- the old "standing on two chairs and singing into a broom handle" routine.

I have to give credit to the colonel and the rest of the clan for the inspiration for that scene -- a staple in the young Reini househould.

That scene too.

Proof that there was, in fact, a camera involved (although, I admit, I do occasionally wear the paper hat just for fun).

As always, the Professor was on board to shoot. Apparently he and Rupert weren't getting along very well.

Thanks, the Jilb, for taking the photos.

(Jill is in the short film too, but she couldn't take a picture of herself, and I was on important Coke business.)

Brilliant

2006-03-02T12:19:00.000-08:00

I was looking around one of those stupid quiz sites, when I noticed the teaser "Who is your arch-nemesis?"

I couldn't resist.

I typed in my name, and it came up with this.

Your arch-nemesis is: The Princess Bride

Take this quiz at QuizGalaxy.com

Brilliant.

I was all prepared to drop everything I was doing and travel across the Web, extolling the wisdom of QuizGalaxy

But, just to be sure, I went back and entered my name again.

It came up with Orson Welles.

Whatever.

2006-02-23T08:04:00.000-08:00

Going to a wedding...

Minnesotarctica

2006-02-19T16:47:00.000-08:00

The other night I watched the National Geographic documentary March of the Penguins.

This is what I learned.

Every year around March (the beginning of winter in Antarctica), a thousand emperor penguins jump out of the ocean onto the mainland and waddle 70 miles inland in order to breed (apparently these penguins are very shy).

As soon as the female lays her egg, she must balance it on her feet and cover it within seconds, or the egg will freeze, killing the chick inside.

Because there is no source of food or water in the mainland of Antarctica, the females have to eventually leave their eggs and return to the ocean. But because the egg cannot be exposed to the elements, they must pass it to the males without letting it touch the ground (they kind of roll it off from one set of feet to the other).

While the females make the long march back to the ocean, the males huddle together to protect the eggs from harshest days of winter, with temperatures that drop to 80 degrees below before factoring in the wind, which gusts up to 100 mph.

Well, after carting around a different variety of eggs back and forth across the Market Place parking lot on Friday night, all I can say is those penguins ain't got nothing on me.

Doing Anything's Magical Photo-Journey, Part II.V

2006-02-14T06:04:00.000-08:00

See? Still friends...

The colonel crazies it up for the camera

Here we are "behind the scene"

And, of course, Matt Brown was our "MVP"

(Also, check out the news story about our visit from the police.)

Doing Anything's Magical Photo-Journey, Part II

2006-02-13T12:51:00.000-08:00

My family came and stayed in Bemidji this weekend so that the colonel (and the hermit) could participate in the fifth day of shooting.

As you can see, I was pretty excited for the colonel to be here.

It was an all-day outdoor shoot, centered around a crazy man and his yard full of junk. Creating a yard full of junk was a problem in and of itself, but keeping the pile arranged just-so to avoid continuity errors proved to be one of the biggest headaches of the day.

I would occasionally have to reposition the junk when certain individuals took it upon themselves to arbitrarily move stuff around - though I'm not mentioning any names.

Though the hermit didn't have an acting part, his assistance was invaluable on Saturday.

He kept a constant eye on where we were in the storyboards (something that I struggle to do when I have to act) and he filled in admirably when we were short a cameraman.

Brian was also there to reprize his role of the nerd from Starting Tomorrow. A couple of times, the Professor snuck up behind Brian and hit him in the back of the head with a toaster. Amazingly, they're still friends (I think).

There would be a picture of that, but blogger isn't letting me upload any more right now. I'll try to put a few more up later.

The War Continues

2006-02-07T09:23:00.000-08:00

Part of the strategy for my on-going war against all things wiki is taking it down from the inside.

Thus, I've created a new wiki page.

It's called How to Write a Paper the Night Before It's Due

Doing Anything's Magical Photo-Journey, Part I

2006-02-05T12:38:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was the third full day of shooting for Doing Anything, but it was the first day I actually remembered to bring the still-camera along.

Here are some photos (along with an exclusive, behind-the-scenes look at one of the sets).

The scene required a pot of coffee in the background. Unfortunately, I have never made coffee before in my life. And the more I stared at the coffee maker, the more reasonable it seemed just to fill the pot with some muddy puddle water.

Fortunately, I had the professor along, who actually read the instructions while I sat in a corner and sobbed.

The coffee turned out great, and now I am hooked. I ran out with the Jilb today and bought some caramel/vanilla creamer.

Here is the set, as promised (complete with coffee pot). It was a good set, what with that sign and those windows -- plus the green table was a nice touch. But unfortunately for DJ and Andi, the set also happened to be located outside on, unquestionably, the coldest day of all time.

It wouldn't be a Double Deuce / Rainy Day film without the BKC. (Except, of course, for The Notebook, Fugly Couch, Unnoticeable, Violent Person, Fugly Couch 2: Electric Boogaloo, The Immigrant Song, and The Altar.)

There are a handful of times during every shoot when the Professor, for no apparent reason, spontaneously turns pure evil.

Three Bagging Stories

2006-01-30T15:30:00.000-08:00

1) The other night, I was five minutes into a seven hour shift, when I realized I had forgotten my wallet at home. That meant no money for dinner -- or even a snack, for that matter.

Of course, as soon as I realized this, I began feeling really hungry (my hunger pains were sticking like duct tape). So I quickly ran through my options.

Jill was at work, so she wouldn't be able to bring me money and/or food. And, well, that was it for my options.

Except for tips. But tips for a bagger are grossly unreliable at best. If I'm lucky, I'll make a couple bucks a night. Now don't get me wrong, a couple bucks would've been enough to grab a little snack, but I had no way of knowing when such a tip would come, or even if I would get one at all.

So, as I was bagging some old lady's groceries, I said a prayer. I asked for a little extra tip money a little sooner than normal, so I could have something to eat during my break.

After I dropped off the lady's groceries, she gave a fifty cents.

I was relieved. That would be enough to at least buy a can of pop or something. At least I wasn't going to die of thirst.

The next trip out, I got a dollar -- which would mean a bottle of pop and an apple. The very next trip I got another dollar -- a bottle, an apple, and a granola bar. Then someone gave me a wad of three ones -- enough for a meal at the fine Market Place deli (shameless plug).

All told, I received more than fifteen dollars -- all before my first break. As a bagger, I haven't even come close to matching that amount of tip money before or since.

2) I have progressed in my bagging to the point where it is no longer a strictly utilitarian procedure. It has become an art.

Meat-in-plastic, group-the-produce, don't-crush-the-bread and a myriad other immutable bagging laws still apply and, indeed, are necessary to provide the conventions of the medium.

But when the choices made within those confines are driven by creativity rather than the taskmasters of speed and efficiency, that is when bagging becomes an art.

That is not to say, however, that speed and efficiency are to be ignored. In fact, the epitome of bag-art is when speed, efficiency, and creative decision making all converge to form the Perfect Bag.

(It should also be noted that I am an exceptionally slow bagger.)

3) When the soda machines in the entry area "start up" (for lack of a better term), it sounds like an air-raid siren. The first time I heard the noise, I took a glance outside for any unusual commotion (unmarked planes, an arching ICMB, Covenant dropships).

I now realize the source, and yet every time I walk past those machines when they're "starting up," I still get the uncontrollable urge to flip my cart over and dive under for cover.

About Four Years Late, But Still...

2006-01-26T11:19:00.000-08:00

I finally saw Signs for the first time the other night. After the movie concluded, all I could think about was how that was the wussiest alien invasion in the history of the universe.

I mean, the aliens presumably spend all that time planning, travel thousands of light years, and the best invasion strategy they can come up with is:

1) Get dropped off around various Earth cities and towns.
2) Wander around for about a week.
3) a. Eventually, build up your courage and go slowly approach a human (without getting shot, stabbed, crushed, detonated, well, you get the idea). OR, b. Lock yourself in a closet.
4) If you approach the human, stand in front of him and grimace for about five minutes, while waggling your arms back and forth.
5) Once the human falls asleep from boredom, go spray poison in his face.
6) Repeat until someone accidentally dumps water on you. Then cry and go home.

I mean, c'mon.

(The movie itself was all right. I'm just getting annoyed with all the incompetent aliens, like the War of the Worlds dudes who forgot to take their meds and the Windows 95 users in Independence Day. Please leave the bumbling to the master.)

Lazy Monday (post)

2006-01-23T06:56:00.000-08:00

I fear I'm bringing up the tail end of this latest phenomena, and yet I would feel guilty if I did not give our local cadre of bloggers the opportunity to see this video.

(thanks professor)

My Morning Walk to Jerry's

2006-01-18T08:43:00.000-08:00

(After two picture posts in a row, I decided I had better slap some words together. So here is a really short story I wrote:)

Every morning at 6:30, I hike up my pants, drop a paper bag full of garbage into the can at the curb, and then take a walk to see my friend Jerry, who drives us to the diner for some coffee. Today was no different, except for a little bit.

At 6:30, I hiked up my pants and walked to the curb to drop my bag in the can. But the can was full. As I stood there wondering what to do, the bottom of my bag broke open, spilling orange peels, coffee grounds, and slimy wads of tissue all over the sidewalk. Relieved of my problem, I continued on to Jerry’s. As I walked down the sidewalk, I looked around for the usual suspects, but nobody was out today—not even that rotten paper boy.

I contend with one intersection on the way to Jerry’s, and today, for the first time since I can remember, the stoplight was green, allowing me to plow ahead into the street without breaking stride. But then, out of nowhere, this rusty black pick-up truck came barreling around the corner and charged right at me. I made my best effort to jump back, but I think I only made it as far as a slight lean when that truck flew by no less than a foot in front of me. Needless to say, I gave it a good fist-shaking as it roared down the street. Then, I hiked up my pants and continued on to Jerry’s.

About a block away from his house, I finally saw that good-for-nothing paper boy. He was running down the sidewalk, and from the way his head was tilted down, I could tell he couldn’t really see where he was going. I tried to move out of his way, but that crusty-booger-nosed punk crashed into me anyway, almost knocking me to the ground. The boy picked himself up, looked up at me, wiped his crusty nose, and kept right on running—all without saying a word. I gave him my best grumble as he ran off and then made my way up Jerry’s sidewalk to his door.

A couple of knocks on that old red door sent a deep rumbling through the house, and the odd thing was, the rumbling continued as I waited. Finally, Jerry answered the door.

“Where’s that rumbling coming from?” I asked.

“Hard to say,” he said. “Hard to say.”

The deep rumble grew louder.

“Jerry,” I said, “I think the world is doomed.”

“Huh. What makes you say that?”

“Well, it’s the people, Jerry. The people are downright rotten, and that means the world is doomed.”

“Hmm,” he said. “I don’t know.”

The rumbling was becoming unbearable. I looked up, and there, beyond Jerry’s rooftop, I found the source.

“Also,” I said, “there’s an enormous, moon-sized asteroid about to crash into our planet.”

Jerry thought about this.

“Yep,” he said, “that’ll do it.”

2006-01-13T07:25:00.000-08:00

Going to Chi Alpha's SALT retreat...

A Good Day

2006-01-12T16:15:00.000-08:00

Look what I did in college today:

(I'm serious.)

Mr. Bagging Pants

2006-01-05T07:26:00.000-08:00

When I'm not making movies, making songs, and fightin' 'round the world, I work at a grocery store. Specifically, I'm a bagger.

As a bagger, I am not required to do any deep thinking. In fact, only one persistent question has any relevance for me throughout the day, as is demonstrated in this ancient bagging haiku.

Paper or plastic?

Oh crap, paper in plastic.

Stupid old ladies.

If someone buys a lot of groceries, it is also my responsibility to place them in a cart and unload them into the customer's car. The back seat is a popular choice among customers, but at times these people demonstrate an astounding lack of spatial awareness regarding number of bags vs. back seat occupancy, as is demonstrated in this ancient grocery carting haiku.

Two carts, many bags.

Back seat packed with screaming kids.

Quote: "Don't crush my bread."

Recently, though, I have been shown a world beyond meat-in-plastic and double-bagging, beyond bread-crushing and two-door-specks, a world that requires deep thinking and challenging questions -- questions like, "Are sliced green beans and French-style green beans the same thing?" and "Will anyone care if they're side by side on the shelf?" (Answer: old ladies always care.)

But most importantly, here is the most irresistible picture of Puppy to date.

Maybe it's Plumpy

2005-12-30T08:33:00.000-08:00

I wish I could take credit for crafting that magnificent little dump, but that honor goes to the li'l penny and her cousin. I did take the picture though -- that's pretty good.

And by the way, rumors of my having played Dance Dance Revolution over Christmas break are greatly exaggerated.

Clearly, that is the colonel on the left dancing along with Randy Moss.

And finally, to my friend Brian -- doing missions work in South America over Christmas break -- remember to bring me back a souvenir.

Merry Christmas

2005-12-23T08:45:00.000-08:00

Haha, chew on that one for a week or so.

Quick, Speedy Thoughts

2005-12-21T10:34:00.000-08:00

Some quick thoughts on Kong during halftime of the PFL Bowl.

1. I never want to go to Skull Island -- everything there has ridiculously large teeth, including the giant evil bats from hell and the enormous Smeagol-sucking leeches. Yuck.

2. In the history of cinema, any character with the name "Jimmy" sucks. Period.

3. Any line addressed to any Jimmy that ends in comma Jimmy, such as, "It's not about being brave, Jimmy" and "You have to do what your heart tells you, Jimmy" sucks. Period.

4. The Empire State Building sequence is a testament to the effectiveness of not zooming the camera in and shaking it around during an action scene. The thrill of the sequence came from being able to see everything that was happening, and some of the long shots of the airplanes swooping down brought similar images to mind.

5. When Jack Black's conceited character concludes the movie by saying "it was beauty that killed the beast," he was talking about himself.

What is thy bidding?

2005-12-19T08:11:00.000-08:00

Finally, a new and powerful ally in my on-going war against all things wiki.

Sometimes I Make the Bed, Too

2005-12-15T19:02:00.000-08:00

Yesterday the Jilb told me she would be home from work at seven. Being the ultimate male I told her I would have dinner prepared for her when she came home.

And I did.

I never would have offered, though, had I not already won a free gift certificate from FM 90. The D Js were having a trivia contest, giving away a gift certificate for a large pizza for the first caller to correctly guess which college some Bemidji coach used to coach at.

That's all I really remember about the question. But I used my unparalleled logic and reasoning powers to come up with a probable response. Plus they started playing a song with some old timey guys crooning Hail to North Dakota! (The University Of!)...and so on.

After I guessed correctly, they asked who they should make the gift cert out to, and I said, "Turd Ferguson."

It's a funny name.

My Glorified Comment

2005-12-14T10:40:00.000-08:00

The majority of this post was originally a comment I left on the Colonel's excellent review of the new Narnia movie. But because I haven't posted in awhile (and inspiration hasn't been kicking me square in the butt), I decided the extended comment would make just as good a post as any.

Keep in mind, however, that it is not as full a review as the Colonel's. It's more a focused rant than anything. And some parts of it refer back to the original review, so you may want to start there.

I know, I'm really scraping the bottom of the barrel here, but one crummy post per week is better than one great post every week and a half, right?

Here's the comment with a few minor changes and additions. (Also keep in mind that, like the Colonel, I did, in fact, like the movie.)

I'm not one to nitpick about changes from book to movie (keep those elves a'comin to Helm's Deep). For the most part, such changes are necessary for the relatively brief time frame and quick pacing of visual media.

In that regard, most of the changes from book to movie were added to further character development in an efficient way, i.e. Edmund's meeting with Tumnus in the Witch's castle. I didn't mind that because it adds one more step to his development so his ultimate conversion is not in sudden Lucasian fashion.

There were some changes, however, that bothered me. For example, I think the movie hit the wrong note with the professor. He's such a likeable character in the book, but it seemed as though the movie did not know how to handle him.

Certainly he's somewhat mysterious in the book, but I think the movie overplayed that angle, giving him a constant aura of suppressed magic.

But where's the intelligence and the wit. Where's the scholarly lamentation over the current school system? (Oh, sure, the line was in there, but, like Isaac pointed out about the Aslan "not tame but good" line, it seemed in there only out of necessity - not as an extension of the character.)

And where is the Bergan-esque gruffness and impatience that mask a true fatherly fondness for the children.

Again, the movie made him too mysterious and magical, and in doing so, they missed out on the true "magic" of the character.

(On a side note, one of my favorite Peter moments of the book was left out at the end of the film. It's when, after telling the professor about their adventure in Narnia, Peter says the only reason he bothered to tell the professor in the first place was because he was worried about having lost the four coats.

That not only wonderfully characterizes an otherwise bland Peter, but it also furthers the disparity between Narnia time and "real" time. In Narnia, decades had gone by without even a thought for the coats, but minutes after they exit the wardrobe, they are foremost in his mind.)

Also, Peter should leave the stunts to the professionals.

You Never Can Tell with Blogs

2005-12-07T11:43:00.000-08:00

I better mention this in case some of you actually read and care about the Starting Tomorrow updates. The movie will NOT be shown tomorrow (Dec. 8) as I previously indicated. Furthermore, the DVD will not be available until after Christmas break.

Ha ha.

In other news, casting has begun for Doing Anything. If you're interested in having a part in the film, let me know. There are still a ton of roles up for grabs -- from simple, non-speaking parts to some pretty important characters. (If you don't know how to contact me, just leave a comment.)

Ugh. Suddenly I feel so dirty. (You've changed, man. It used to be about the bees.)

Well, at least I'm not the only one. I mean you've got the colonel (I Always Believe I'm a Moron, Kid) and the Jilb (bunnies bunnies bunnies bunnies bunnies bunnies bunnies!) and about a million other blog titles that just don't mean anything anymore. Even Twenty Something has to someday become Twenty Anything, right?

(Sorry. Moronic wordplay is a staple of the Doing Anything script. It's all still sloshing around in my brain, making me stupider -- more stupid? -- by the minute.)

About the only titles that have any hope of remaining relevant are the ones like Dangeresque Dan's, where all you can do is take his word for it.

Also the paintball blog.

Man, I could really go for some paintball right now.

This Is My Life (am I who you want to be?)

2005-11-30T17:27:00.000-08:00

For most of the semester, I've been biking to class. But now that the snow has fallen, I've been forced (pronounced for-SED) to walk.

That's not a picture of me walking to class, but I chose it because it's pretty similar - except that I normally go alone and it's a lot colder. Also I don't ride a camel.

Sometimes, after walking all that way, I get there and find out class is cancelled. When that happens, I give everybody a fearsome stare, like this:

I'm the guy in the middle. (You can tell because that's also how I dressed up in my profile pic.)

Ocassionally, when I get back to the apartment, the Jilb tells me she's bored and wants me to think of something to do.

When that happens, I call some friends over, and we entertain her with song and dance.

(This, my gracious and loyal readers, is what happens when you post just to post.)

About That Time

2005-11-22T14:27:00.000-08:00

My latest assignment was to redesign the Bemidji State University website. I started with the header.

Here is the original:

BSU's motto is "The Lake, The Learning, The Life." It's all very sweet.

So, naturally, I came up with this:

(Thank you, hermit, for your efforts in tracking down that image. For your loyalty, I will officially allow you to commit dubious pillaging-related acts against my Dr. Strangelove DVD.)

Speaking of which, here is an additional piece of promotional material I created for the site:

I think it's about time for me to graduate.

Wait a second...

2005-11-18T01:31:00.000-08:00

The last post felt like such a cop out, that I figured I'd better do something drastic -- lest I allow the loyal readers of YNCTwB to grow restless for even a second.

So I posted in comment graffiti.

Also I changed my template.

I changed it using the acclaimed method of staring at my template for a good hour, getting up to get a Coke, and then coming back to stare again. Occassionally, if I saw a random group of numbers that didn't make sense to me, I would delete them. I counted that as major progress.

And yet, despite my expert approach, I fear that my new template might possibly be a little buggy. It looks fine to me (but it also happens to be four in the morning, and I'm in the middle of a staring contest with Indy on the cover of my Raiders LP -- meaning I might not be the best of judges right now).

Mostly, I'm worried about the header. It should be moderately sized, with a yellowish color on the left half and an image on the right (ideally with just a hint of a balloon in the upper right half).

If you're looking at some bizarro page right now, let me know. (And if so, I appologize and will make every effort to un-delete the critical numbers.)

And last of all, it would be blasphemous for YNCTwB to have a landmark post without inviting the man.

Yar!

2005-11-17T19:09:00.000-08:00

Everyone else seems to be doing it, so here's a picture I took of the snow in Bemidji.

Also, in anticipation for the up-coming film, check out the ultra-condensed version of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe that I wrote.

Also, the other day I went out with my friend and bought a new bunny. Then I came home and sat on the old one. It's an interesting story, and maybe someday I'll tell it to you, along with lots of other good stories that happened to me.

Also, the Jilb was nice enough to take a picture of me finishing up my latest homework assignment.

Absolutely

2005-11-14T12:49:00.000-08:00

no question about it -- I am an idiot

Life on the Tour

2005-11-09T11:24:00.000-08:00

The Starting Tomorrow DVD promotional tour has officially begun.

On Monday, the Professor and I did a little radio interview for DJ and Big Wood on FM 90.

(Congratulations to Lisa, by the way, for winning a free copy of the two-disc special edition.)

The DVD will first be made available at the next showing of Starting Tomorrow on Thursday, December 8th (tentatively, once again, in EA 115).

In other Double Deuce / Rainy Day Pictures news, I am now half done with the script for my next short film / senior project -- Doing Anything, based loosely on my critically acclaimed short story of the same title. ("Critically acclaimed" meaning that it occasionally makes me giggle.)

I think a majority of my readers (meaning, oh, three of you) have actually read the story, but here's a little excerpt for those who haven't.

I can do anything. Well, that’s not completely true. I think I can do anything, but I’m not quite sure yet. There are a lot of things I can’t do, but I’m pretty sure I could do them if I really wanted to. I just don’t want to right now—there are a lot of things not worth doing. So I’m pretty sure I can do anything, but that doesn’t mean I can do everything. There’s a big difference. Doing everything requires not only an infinite amount of time, but also the uncommon inclination to do, in fact, everything. Time might not be a problem for me, but I sure know desire is. Who, for example, wants to spend a year living inside an elephant’s butt? Not me.

Should be fun.

the glory and the dream

2005-11-01T12:28:00.000-08:00

The first person to correctly guess the necessary title of this post will earn two gold stars (and, consequently, will ensure that George gets four demerits).

where is it now

2005-10-29T08:35:00.000-07:00

I apologize for my uncharacteristic absence due to studying. I realize that most of you, when you read the last post, immediately thought to yourselves, "Liar. the Reinman doesn't study. He's just making some half-baked excuse for being lazy again."

And most of time I would be standing right there with you, shaking my head at such shenanigans. But this week I did, in fact, have an unprecedented four midterms -- each worth half my grade in their respective classes.

But now they're over, and conceivably, I don't have to go back to campus until finals week.

Except to play intramural, Team Ramrod-style broomball -- I would go back for that.

Broomball, in case you're wondering, is kind of like boot hockey, but instead of a puck, you use a softball-sized rubber ball, and instead of hockey sticks, you smack the ball with a small pentagon-shaped rubber appendage at the end of a short pole. This device in no way, shape, or form remotely resembles a broom.

The game consists of eight guys slowly shuffling around the ice, poking their sticks at the ball, which rolls just fast enough to remain inches out of reach of the closest shuffler.

But as soon as that shuffler gets greedy and tries to catch up to the ball, he slips and falls -- every time, no exceptions. The shufflers behind him see the fall, of course, but they can't stop their slow, yet persistent, momentum -- which leads to some of the most agonizingly slow-paced pile-ups you'll ever see. Eight athletic young man will all be floundering around on the ice, while the ball continues to creep away. As I myself have been floundering, I swear I've seen that ball roll by my head and wink at me.

Occasionally the ball, on its own merit, will find its way into a net because the goalie was either A) extremely bored and looking around for a Coke machine or B) involved in a pile-up.

It's a great game.

the visionary gleam

2005-10-24T17:57:00.000-07:00

There's absolutely no way Lando would ever get suckered into taking midterms. I, however, am not such a smooth operator.

(no more posts until midterms are over)

You Never Can Tell with Bees

"The Life" Online

Official "The Life" Trailer

Official "The Life" Poster

Happy Birthday, World

This Post Gave Me Chills

Must...

Have...

Complete Archive

So Far So Good

You Never Can Tell with Nuts

Bennie and Baby

Big News

Links

Go Pats!

Requiem for a Soda

Video Post Extravaganza

"Requiem for a Soda" stills

"Requiem for a Soda" Photo Tour

That Time of Year

I GOT IT!!!!!

Oh, there's that movie script I wrote!

The Streak Lives

2:10

Shotgun Post

The OdyssWii

A Change of Heart

Me vs Academic Integrity

La La La La Lumps in my Oatmeal

I Also Considered "Argue or Die"

This Probably Isn't the Deal

Make a Decision

Fall

What's the Dealio

Don't Waste Your Time

Apples and Oranges

Franklin Learns His ABCs

A Conversation with George

Because I don't have a projector of my own...

Books on the Right-Hand Shelf of My Computer Desk

Two Types of Baggers

Name-tags

Big-time Dilemma

The Catch

Thunder-ants

It's the 17th Annual Blurry Photo Caption Contest!!!

Whip it good

I love Star Wars!

the reply

I don't have too much time on my hands.

A Debate for the Ages

Great Service

Big-Time Movie Guy

Things I love to do

Speechless

I'm a graduation guy (tomorrow)

Alias: The Movie

Triple Feature

Not to be greedy but...

Official Site

2nd Win(d)

Musings on Mortality

2 films 2nite (and now my fingers are bleeding)

Doing Anything Update

Let's Make Some Memories!

More Weekend Stories

Birthday Weekend Extravaganza

Feeling All Right, Sir?

Important Business

Brilliant

Minnesotarctica

Doing Anything's Magical Photo-Journey, Part II.V

Doing Anything's Magical Photo-Journey, Part II

The War Continues

Doing Anything's Magical Photo-Journey, Part I

Three Bagging Stories

About Four Years Late, But Still...

Lazy Monday (post)

My Morning Walk to Jerry's

A Good Day