I have a pretty good life. I really can’t complain about much, but I will anyway. We have a nice house. We don’t have to scrimp and save for food or other basic needs. We get to take nice, but not extravagant, vacations. But things could be so much better.
I blame my wife. Well, not her personally, but her generosity and kind heart. They’re bringing me down.
I don’t always trust people to do the right thing. If people could make the right decisions, we wouldn’t know about Ty Pennington, Britney Spears or Fitness Made Simple” by John Basedow. I feel a heavy burden because this is one of those times where I know people won’t do the right thing. I can already see the evidence.
“Fever Pitch” will be a huge hit at the box office. We can’t let that happen.
They say that England and America are two countries separated by a common language. Apparently that’s true because they don’t understand the old adage that size doesn’t matter. Kentucky Fried Chicken has had a commercial banned in Britain because government officials say the ad misled people about the size of a chicken sandwich.
You are supposed to be reading a column about Easter, but my computer is jealous. At least that’s the only explanation I came come up with why my laptop died the other day.
I wrote while I ate lunch at work and everything seemed fine. An hour later, I popped open the lid of my two-year-old workhorse so I could listen to some of the music I had stored on there.
I will spend hours upon hours Friday night looking over documents. I will pore over reams of documents searching for the perfect solution to my problems. Taxes? Nope. It’s time for my fantasy baseball draft.
This is serious business. Sure, there is money at stake, but I’m not as worried about that as I am about undoing the past two years.
I love sleep. Nothing feels better than curling up in a warm bed and drifting off. But something has changed about sleep as I get older. I generally wake up four or five times a night. I glance at the clock, figure out how much longer I have until I need to wake up, then fall right back asleep. I get a lot of sleep, but it is broken into smaller segments.
I probably should be more worried about my sleeping habits, but I don’t feel overly tired so I just let it slide. I actually should be mad because I have never had sleeping problems in the past.
I took my daughter over to a friend’s house the other day for a “play day.” We can’t say “playdate” in our house. Bridget had decided that the proper term is “play day” and doesn’t like when someone says “playdate.” That’s fine with me because I think the term is overused.
But that’s not the point. She didn’t just get to have a good time with a classmate that day. I came down with a bad case of basement envy.
I recently read a story about some inventor who has taken drastic steps to try and live forever.
He takes 250 supplements every day. He drinks 8 to 10 glasses of water each day and just as many cups of green tea. He does batteries of tests to check how he is doing and makes diet adjustments accordingly.
All of this, Ray Kurzwell says, will hopefully help him live long enough to see human immortality become a reality.
While I admire scientific minds that dream of the impossible – I would rather he would put his efforts toward improvements in television technology though – I have just one question for the man who wants to live forever.
Where do you plan to put all your stuff?
I really like the fact that so much controversy surrounds Chris Rock hosting tonight’s Academy Awards ceremony. While people gossip over whether the comedian respects the Oscars, the Brians have had the opportunity to sail under the radar.
Yes, it’s that time of year again when I give away awards for the best in film … that I saw the previous year.
We have six films eligible, the same as the last two years. Voters – and there is a change there – had to choose from “Dodgeball,” “Starsky & Hutch,” “Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgandy,” “The Aviator,” “Ocean’s Twelve,” and “Home on the Range,” the first animated film nominated for a Brian.
I changed the voting a little at the behest of a friend named, coincidentally, Brian. He didn’t see why he should be disqualified from voting since, in the spirit of Jeff Spicoli, these are our awards.
If you don’t get that joke, go rent “Fast Times at Ridgemont High.”
Anyway, without any further ado, the 2005 Brians.
I have never visited Central Park in New York. But if I ever had, I don’t think I would look up the sky and think, “They should put some sheets up there.” Yet that’s exactly what performance “artists” Christo and Jeanne-Claude have done.
Their “exhibit “Gates” opened this week and a million bored people have visited the park to walk underneath huge saffron banners. They have spread 7,500 gates across 23 miles of pathways.
I’m sorry, but if that’s art, I’m getting into this racket.