Harmony is Too Pretty A Word. Try “Ballswelloquent”.

NOTE:  the below post includes references to a masturbating holy figure.  Please discontinue reading if this will offend rather than amuse.

This is one of those mornings (not Those Mornings).  One where you get up, feel pretty good, have a cup of coffee, get to the gym, and then get to work, and everything is kinda humming right along.  You feel good.  You feel like you’re in sync with the rhythm of the world, like you’re circadian rhythm is lined up right next to the sine wave of the universe… like you’re in your car, and the rest of the world is in the car next to you as you both hit the red light at the same time, and you, very cockily, rev your engine.  Like you can outgun the cosmos.

That, my friends, is what I call a Good Friday.  Not to be confused with Jesus’ Good Friday… which I’m still confused about – was it the day they all decided they couldn’t abstain from whatever they had just given up for forty days?  (First, who chooses 40 days?  That’s not a clean number at all, so I don’t think it was a choice.  King James was a bit of a censorship nut, so no one knows the real story:  I think Jesus & his Lenten posse made a bet to see who could give up stroking it the longest… like that episode of Seinfeld.  I’ll bet Paul came back within 7 minutes & said “I’m out!”, but the rest of them made it forty days, and probably could’ve kept going except Jesus called it off because he rubbed one out during an especially enlightening prayer session… on a Friday, and they all went “Good!” and immediately sowed some orthodox oats.)

It’s April 1st.  It’s snowing in NJ, and I’m spending 3 hours of my day on a conference call – yes, just ONE conference call for THREE hours.  But I’m okay with that.  I’m revving my engine, toeing the line, ready to sprint.  The only word I could reasonably come up with for this feeling of “all is right with the world” is harmony… but that’s too pretty.  It lacks machismo.  It lacks bravado.  It lacks braggadocio.  It gives no sense of the up-fuckery sentiment – like it’s so good that you feel you could easily do anything, even things you’ve never done before, and it’ll all work out, and you’ll have added your own little dose of oats (orthodox or otherwise) into the mix.  You’re doing what you’re meant to be doing, and it’s changing the world.

… maybe that’s a little too far.  But harmony is too pretty a word.  We need something braver, bolder, faster, stronger.  Something with more balls.

I submit the following recommendations as terms that could be defined, loosely, as “the feeling that you can beat the world”:

Sevenpotato

Extralifery

Ballswelloquent

MichaelCeragance

Feel free to vote or contribute your own candidate in the comments.  My personal favorite is Ballswelloquent.

What the WHAT!?!?

I’m a DAD!

Her name is Kathryn Olivia Hansen, born 5/2/09 in San Francisco at a healthy almost-a-bowling-ball weight of 7lbs 15oz and a roomy 20″.  She’s got a full head of brown hair & eyes that are a deep blue (at least so far).  And yes, she’s my new favorite person. :)

No, you can't get this on Etsy.

No, you can't get this on Etsy.

Here’s what I wrote about this whole experience last Sunday, May 2nd, right after Renee was officially admitted into the hospital & we made ourselves at home in the big sterile hotel room.  Unfortunately I didn’t have time (surprise!) to cover the whole experience in this entry, and while I’m tempted to try now, a week later, to re-capture all the feelings & events that transpired afterwards, I can’t possibly do them justice.  So the labor experience, the cutting of the cord, the smell of my daughter’s head right before they put her in the Cap of Androgeny (the little cotton hat that’s equal parts pink & blue that all hospitals use so they can prevent the correct gender identification of all babies)… none of that is written in the below, and my only salvo to replace it is to tell you that, if possible, you should experience it for yourself, like most things that are amazing.

While this blog will still mainly be for my forays into acting & comedy & for memorializing oblique pop culture references, there’s really nothing more amazing than becoming a parent, and it will undoubtedly affect every single fiber of who I am for the next 80 years (yes, I’ll live until I’m 109), so this is a fitting place for something a little different.

What we have below is a piece I will refer to as:

I Need To Sit Down, or The Day When Literally Everything Changed Forever

We are officially in the hospital, about to become parents to what
will surely be one of those girls who is cute until 7, looks way
awkward between 7 & 13, and (hopefully) grows into the nose she got
from her Dad and long limbs she got from her Mom.

I am… I don’t know what I am. If a word exists to express it, it’s
something like
HOLYSHITHAPPYSCAREDWHATTHEHELLJUSTHAPPENEDWHOAREYOUSAVETHEPRINCESS1UPGAMEOVERCONTINUE?
DAMMITIDONTKNOWWHATIAMDOINGSTOPTHESCREAMINGTOOMUCHPOOP.

Ahem.

Now with composure…

I have a feeling today is going to be the next Best Day of My Life.
And I imagine none will be its equal until she grows up and maybe
chooses to take a similar path and makes me a Grandpa.

I can honestly say I have never had so many conflicting emotions
running through me at once. Remember the show Herman’s Head? It’s
like THAT, but louder and the fat guy in charge of the “fun stuff”
has way more gas, and all the opinions are bouncing around like
Drop Dead Fred. (Daniel Tosh isn’t the only one who can adroitly
reference that movie!)

Maybe that explains why, when I fast-forward to the part in this movie
where I meet this liitle treasure for the first time, I smile like a
loon and get a little weepy. (Weepy in a manly sense.) I also can get
VERY upset when I think about anyone ever hurting her. VERY UPSET.
Like turn-green-and-rip-my-jean-shorts upset. And then I get laughy.
Because I know R and I are about to embark on our very own comedy of
errors, complete with spit-takes, prat falls and fart sounds, and I
believe I’m about to truly learn what comedy is.

So you see, children, today is a Big Day. If ever I was going to
question my own masculinity, that question has been answered, as I’ve done the most masculine thing a guy can ever do… enter the realm of fatherhood. This stuff takes BALLS.

Review: The Dark Knight

See my review on CliquePick & join my clique. I’m on there as handee9.

RATING: 4 out of 5 Thumbs.

Yes, only four thumbs – I figure my first movie review can’t be all five, or people won’t see my reviews as credible. That being said, I generally won’t bother reviewing a movie unless it’s a) Awesome; b) Awful; c) Getting Critical Reviews I Disagree With. In the case of ‘The Dark Knight’, see option a).

The Short Version: As a movie, it’s awesome; as the second of Nolan’s Batmans, it’s definitely the better one, but it could’ve been even better.

The Long Version:
Those of you that have seen it may not think it’s credible to only give four thumbs. Touché, dear reader. Yes, this movie is awesome for many, many reasons. I have now seen it thrice – twice on the normal screen, and most recently on IMAX – wouldn’t have bothered if it weren’t awesome. But here are three short, potentially minor, reasons it’s not a full-blown hand o’ thumbs:

1) Alfred & Bruce/Batman banter. The scenes where Bale interacts with the world’s best Alfred (Michael Caine) do NOT come off well. Personally I blame this on bad dialogue choice (since when does Alfred have stories about burning down forests & hunting bandits?) and a mediocre Bruce Wayne that Bale delivers. A respectable Batman, a refusable Bruce Wayne – I actually liked Bale as Bruce better in Batman Begins.

2) Rachel Dawes. I was actually disappointed that they brought Rachel Dawes back, but in all fairness, I never read many of the Dark Knight graphic novels, and am not invested in her arc AT ALL, so if you are, you can stop reading this part. I just think the whole Rachel/Bruce dynamic sucked a particularly large quantity of ass in this one. SPOILER ALERT: I am glad she’s dead. Yes, sad for Harvey & Bruce & Alfred, but good for the next – I’m not longing for a Vicki Vale reprise or anything, but Rachel Dawes’ character is crap. Yes, Maggie’s way better than Katie Holmes. But so is a ham on rye.

3) The 1UP Mushroom Factor. This is potentially the most important reason for withholding the fifth thumb, though also probably the most debatable. After such AWESOME performances by Heath Ledger & Aaron Eckhart & Gary Oldman, combined with the altogether awesome story arc we’re on, I’m concerned for my future as a Batman fan. What the F are the Nolans going to write next? And who the hell are they going to cast? SPOILER AGAIN: Neither The Joker OR Two-Face actually die at the end of this movie, but there’s NO WAY they could sub in anyone to replace Heath’s Joker. Even if they tried, just on principle alone (especially if he doesn’t get the Oscar he deserves) I will be against it. Sidebar Insult: If you see/saw this and don’t think Heath deserves a posthumous Oscar, kill yourself because you are an IDIOT. And Eckhart makes a great Two-Face, but he can’t carry a whole on his own. So, to 1UP Dark Knight, Nolan has to pull in … what? An awesome Penguin? A Catwoman that doesn’t suck balls as bad as Halle Berry? or a Robin that isn’t as effeminate as Chris O’Donnell? All three? He & his bro have set the bar high, & I’m just worried about their ability to man up. (My op: he’ll find a Catwoman – remember the line Lucius delivers when he gives Bruce the new dog-proof batsuit? “We talking Rottweilers or chihuahuas? It should do fine against cats.” I just don’t know what woman is up for it – and if anyone even thinks of the Jessicas (Alba/Biel), go join the No-Oscar-for-Heath crowd at the bottom of the bay. They do not belong in cinematic adventures.)

Hopefully you get why I withheld one thumb. (That’s what she said.) But my call? GO SEE THIS MOVIE. Heath’s performance alone is worth it. And I recommend the IMAX if you haven’t seen it – see it there first. If you’ve already seen it in standard format, it’s still great to see the sweeping city scenes & the bank robbery scene on an 80 foot screen. Worth the $15, anyway. I’m not the only one who thinks so – IMAX in SF has been sold out at least one showing EVERY DAY since it opened 3 weeks ago.

What are you still doing here? Go see this movie. Again.