Enter your email address below to subscribe to Eric's Page of Stuff!

powered by Bloglet

Contact me at eluper@hotmail.com

Monday, July 28, 2003

Head over heels.

Head over heels is a ridiculous saying. As in, “I fell head over heels for that girl.”

Think about it. Think about a guy just standing there minding his own business. Maybe he is waiting at the curb for a green light so he can cross the street to return a book to the library. He’s wearing rumpled corduroys and a checkered shirt with a button missing. Maybe his name is Jim and he can’t remember whether overdue charges are a dime or a quarter a day.

This guy is possibly the most mundane, everyday guy anyone can think of. Now, think about where his head is relative to his heels.

His head is directly over his heels.

So, what is the saying “head over heels” all about? Is Jim excited? Is Jim all akimbo? Quite simply, no.

Even if you were to argue that Jim is “falling head over heels” so there is a component of falling involved, it is still a weak saying. Jim might fall down the stairway at the library, but if his head remains over his heels, he will invariably land on his feet.

It’s still a poor saying.

I would understand if the saying were “heels over head”. That would make sense. Jim would be flipping and flopping all around with no idea which end is up. That would make some real sense. However, in this saying Jim is a boring nerd. After that fall though, maybe he’s got a good lawsuit.

I suppose this in some way is linked to my frustration regarding the song “The Wind Beneath My Wings”. If the songwriter picked up a book or remembered anything about high-school physics, he/she would have known that it is the wind that travels above the wing that is important. A wing is fashioned in such a way to cause more air to travel over it than under it. This creates lift. Wind beneath the wing causes the airplane to drop like the hunk of metal it actually is.

That song should have been entitled, “The Wind Rushing Over My Wings”. Perhaps a bit less poetic, but at least it would make sense. It’s simple physics.

Saturday, July 26, 2003

I must issue a formal apology.

I have not updated my web page in almost two weeks.

There are many reasons for that, but I shant bore you with the details. The truth is that I have a responsibility to you, the reader, to post the truth as I see it. I have not done that, and for that I am sorry...

Okay, I can't resist boring you with the details after all.

Most of you know I have written a few young adult and children's books. Well, one of my novels has gotten the attention of some people in the publishing industry. I have two agents nibbling right now and I am scrambling to get my manuscript in tip-top shape. It is nigh impossible to get an agent to represent an unpublished author. As such, this is very encouraging.

It's not an issue of not having the time in the day. It's more an issue of spending most of my time thinking about the novel, how to improve it, and what to do with all the gazillions that are going to roll in once The Saga of the Smallest Giant gets published. A bit unrealistic? Sure, but it's fun to occupy myself with it.

I have also been golfing, going to the track, raising my son, and trying to think of the slimiest thing ever.

Golf has been good. My game is in the mid-nineties this season which is a big improvement over last season.

The track was fun. We had a box courtesy of one of my patients and we got to go up into the press box as a friend of mine writes a horse column for the Troy Record. Elaine won about $100 for the day and I took home about $50 more than I came with. My first big hit at the track was for $97 that day.

Ethan has been getting up earlier and earlier now that he know how to get out of his crib. Last night he woke us up at 3am with a peek-a-boo and a tap on the shoulder. If anyone knows where to buy those Frankenstein table straps, let me know. He also went poopie on the potty once. That will be a wondrous day when we no longer have to change diapers.

The slimiest thing ever. I know you have been waiting for this moment. The best I could come up with was: two slugs having sex in a bucket of snot.

I hope to update more frequently in the coming weeks! Until later.

Friday, July 11, 2003

Has anyone out there ever heard of the "Fat Guy Trot?" I doubt it, because I made it up. But, it is a phenomenon that certainly exists and should be prohibited, logged into the laws where the jaywalking, loitering, and lollygagging laws exist.

Picture this. You are driving along the front of the supermarket to find a spot in the sea of minivans. A guy walks out in front of your rolling car and you, against all urges to stomp on the gas, stop. He realizes he didn't look both ways before crossing and does the "Fat Guy Trot".

Maybe you are getting the picture already. If not, I shall illustrate. The guy lifts both fists to the sides of his chest and starts pumping them like he's a bad mime running against the wind. His legs start bobbling his body up and down in a motion that has way too much vertical and not enough horizontal. Trot, trot, trot. The result looks like footage of a 1920's baseball player running the bases, but in real slow motion, slower than it already appears. Such slow motion that the guy is actually going slower than if he had simply continued to walk.

Now don't get me wrong. Skinny guys do this maneuver too, but they usually more skip and saunter than trot. But, they go no faster.

You know you have seen this guy.

This is the guy I want to run over.

The question is, "why do guys do this?". I think I have the answer. Men, inherent problem solvers, try to provide a solution to someone else's problems (ie having to wait for you to clear out of the damn' way after walking out in front of my moving vehicle). Or at least posture as though they are making a darn good attempt. Hence, the Fat Guy Trot. The Fat Guy Trot says, "Hey, look at me. I'm making a concerted effort to get out of your way even though I'm the cause of your irritation in the first place! Oh, and by the way, doesn't my solution suck?"

Women do not do the Fat Guy Trot. For some reason, they are not prone to trotting across the parking lot feigning concern for your time. On the other hand, there are two types of women in the parking lot:

1) The ones who truly are afraid that a sick bastard like me might actually step on the gas and injure them so they look both ways or move their asses appropriately.
2) The ones who are so incredibly indifferent that they simply strut across as though my 2000 pound car is not there.

For some reason, the womens' solutions don't bother me. Some might say it's the miniskirts that sway my opinion. However, I think it's the "feigning" that really rubs me the wrong way. Don't tell me you are going to do something and then make some half-assed effort. Shoot straight. Either move it, or don't move it, but follow through on your promise.

People have told me that I am the sort who can handle big issues well, but dwell on little idiosyncracies. This may be true, but you will never see me do the Fat Guy Trot.

Wednesday, July 02, 2003

Law and Order is the bane of my existence.

I can't turn on the television without coming upon an airing of Law and Order (or one of its ridiculous mutations). I would be willing to bet that that show is on the air 18 of 24 hours in any given day.

We have the old tried and true Law and Order. Then, we have Law and Order: Special Victims Unit, Homicide: Life on the Streets, Law and Order: Criminal Intent, and Law and Order: Official Bikini Inspectors (that's on the Spice Channel). I wouldn't mind if these shows aired once per week, over and done. However, there is a constant kaleidoscope of reruns on any of 20+ other cable channels which leaves me feeling like I have the bedspins (please make it stop, I'll do anything!)

Every episode is the same, an evil formula carefully engineered to drive me insane. Some unsuspecting blue-collar worker comes along talking with some other blue-collar worker about some banal topic (i.e. last night's ball game, his crazy wife, whether he wipes front to back or vice versa). The hapless duo come upon, lo and behold, a dead body. It goes from there. The first half of the show is about the cops' investigation. The second half of the show is the prosecution. It's so formulaic that the show should be called Order and Law since that's the order it comes at us each and every time.

And that noise. You know what noise I'm talking about. That "BONG" between scenes that sounds like a mixture of hitting a high tension wire with an aluminum bat, and a cell door slamming. That sound sits me bolt upright like I'm in a cage in Guantanamo Bay undergoing sleep deprivation torture by the CIA.

And call me crazy, but can't the director find a few other actors to play parts? I see the same people over and over! One week the woman is a defense attorney when the last week she murdered her husband. The next week she's a freaking waitress! Aren't there enough struggling actors to fill these roles without hitting us over the head with the same faces again and again?

I'm sure you're wondering why I watch this show enough to see patterns and formulae if I despise it so much. It's not my fault. It's my wife's. She loves the show. She watches it prime time and then puts it on upstairs when we are going to sleep. As soon as the first BONG sounds, I'm awake. She, of course, drifts off to la-la land and I am stuck watching Law and Order. If I change the channel she, awakens, and tells me she was resting her eyes listening. If I turn down the volume, her fingernails claw my remote hand like a pouncing puma. So, I watch the episode and she doesn't. When the same one airs a few weeks later, she insists we never saw it. I, on the other hand, can rattle off all the twists and turns and the verdict. She must think I watch Law and Order in the closet somewhere.

So you don't think I am a chronic complainer, I will offer a solution.

SOLUTION: Consolidate all Law and Order to one channel and make it a premium, paid channel. If you want the Law and Order option, it's an extra 2 dollars a month. Or, offer a Law and Order filter to screen out the show completely. I would gladly pay a service charge to filter it out. Except for that Law and Order: Official Bikini Inspectors; I happen to like that one.

In the criminal justice system there are three separate yet equally important groups: the police, who investigate crime; the district attorneys, who prosecute the offenders; and me: forced to watch against my will like Alex in A Clockwork Orange. These are our stories.


This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?