Isn't this
Why did the dead monkey fall out of the tree? Because he was dead. Why did the second monkey fall out of the tree? Monkey see, monkey do.

funnier than this
Why did the dead monkey fall out of the tree? Because he was dead. Why did the second monkey fall out of the tree? Peer pressure.

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I have to comment on two of the lamest commercials I've seen lately.

The first commercial I've only seen at the movies (which is a whole other topic - who thought it would be a good idea to add another 15 minutes to the previews?). The commercial starts with some sappy music and then zooms in on two pre-adult girls driving in an old blue car down the freeway. The passenger girl realizes that the arm she's been sticking out the window is now sunburned. The driver girl (ah-ha!) suddenly realizes that the arm she's been sticking out the window is also sunburned. So what do these two ingenious girls decide to do?? I know, I know, you've all seen this, but for those of you who haven't, let me tell you the exciting climax ---- they pull over and change seats!! So now they can get skin cancer on both arms!! Isn't that great?? And the whopper is that this no-dialogue commercial is for IKEA! What about watching what I've described is going to make me what to go furniture shopping?

The other commercial is pretty much a rip-off of the first with a male contingent thrown in for good measure. It is pretty much dialogue-free with some different sappy song blaring in the background and has a car full of pre-adult teens driving in a convertible. The main focus is on a girl and guy in the backseat who have some sort of vibe going on between them. Blah, blah, blah...the commercial (which I swear was at least 5 minutes long and aired during Sunday football?!?!) ends with the guy having to scoot over right next to the girl - which leads to him pulling a flower petal out of her hair and her putting it into her pocket - which leads to their knees touching through the holes in their jeans - is it love? Is it a commercial for Aeropostale? - which is what is emblazoned across the smitten guy's chest. Oh, it is! How did I not get that? I am SO in the mood now to go buy lots and lots of clothes, especially those really expensive ones that come with the knees already ripped out and the holes in the elbows. And maybe if I'm lucky, a long-haired scruffy guy will find a pencil stub behind my ear and proceed to write me a nice little love letter. (I bet it'll be because he fell for the jeans!)

This is prime TV viewing week. Although some shows have started their new seasons, my two shows begin this week - one in 10 minutes to be exact. Gilmore Girls on the WB and Friends on NBC. And that's not counting the horribly addicting Las Vegas Real World that I swore I wouldn't watch (but the first episode was just sooo good!). I hate being one of those people that schedules their life and extracurricular activities around the TV, but sometimes it's worth it. How can you resist Lorelai and Rory ordering in Chinese to sulk over Dean or Rachel falling back in love with Ross (which I predict is going to happen). It's good stuff and I am glad that I have a VCR so that I can also have a life.

Work dinners are the best. You get to go out to expensive restaurants that you wouldn't normally go to and then you basically get to order whatever you want - for free. It doesn't get much better than that. And when you try not to drink the wine because in some weird way you think you're saving the company money, they go ahead and give you a glass anyway. After three glasses of wine, your colleagues start to show some of their true colors and you spend the rest of the dinner cracking up because you were once intimidated by the tipsy, loud woman sitting across from you. If your company is ever in need of a place to have dinner, I recommend 231 Ellsworth in San Mateo. Try to ignore the well-dressed, 80-year-olds that make up most of the clientele and order some wine, preferably two bottles of white. You'll be in for good times.

Open containers in the car - Gourmet Veggie pizza - Markie's strip-tease on lane 29 - photo booths - Katie's ode to Bon Jovi - too much fog - Ti Couz - proposal stories - godparents - football - yoga - Jamba Juice - the Emmys - clean sheets. What a weekend.

Downward Facing Dog, Tadasana, Iyengar...huh? I had trouble just trying to remember what position my right pinkie toe was supposed to be in. One yoga class down, who knows how many to go.

What in a person's nature leads them to think it's perfectly normal to call someone and then spend the next fifteen minutes looking for a folder instead of talking to the person they called?

I didn't learn the art of four-square until I was a fifth grade teacher. I'm not sure what I played as a kid, but I know that I didn't play four-square. At the school where I taught, recess games went in and out as quickly as the various fads, but every year four-square maintained its dominance. And once I was introduced, I was hooked. The cool thing was that I could always do "teacher cuts," though I tried not to abuse the privilege. Once in the game, I tried my best to make it to the King spot, but man those kids could kick my butt. Maybe one of these nights, we should all go find a playground and bust out some of our old-school moves in the four-square box. Bring it.

Katie has signed me up for four free issues of The Week, which is a new magazine that is basically the Cliffs Notes of all reputable newspapers rolled into one. I was reading my current issue last night and came upon this disturbing quote from a security spokesman at Heathrow airport. "We're concerned these items were apparently taken through our security, but items deliberately concealed can be difficult to detect." The items spoken of were various weapons (e.g. a meat cleaver, a dagger. etc.) that a number of British reporters and journalists had smuggled onto flights to demonstrate the lax in security at Heathrow. Is that not one of the most bone-headed quotes you've ever heard? I think I'm still in shock over it.

As I raced out the door this morning, I couldn't help but think of my elementary school days when, if I remember correctly, I had hours of play time before having to head off to school. My brothers and I would shower, dress, pour ourselves a bowl of cereal and plop down in front of the TV. We would rotate through our favorite shows - Land of the Lost (which I just found out originally aired in the mid-70's so we must have been watching reruns), Jem (is truly outrageous!), and Transformers to name a few. It was heaven. There was no rush. When it was time to leave, we turned the TV off, placed our bowls in the sink, and left. Nowadays, I wake up and am out the door without any sort of down-time in between. No breakfast, no TV, no social interaction. I'm lucky if my clothes are intact, shoes buckled, and hair dry. Ah - to be ten again.

I donated blood for the first time today. Aside from the nausea, the cold compresses, the scolding for not having had a hearty enough breakfast, it didn't go so badly. And I left with the knowledge that I might have just saved a life. Powerful stuff.

One great thing about living in California is the no-smoking rule in restaurants and bars. Yesterday, Katie and I had to take a breathing break from the pollution inside the sports bar we were hanging out in (this was in Portland, Oregon). What a sad state of affairs it is when we have to go outside just to breathe.

Drinking games sunk to a new level last night. With only three people, Tropical Blend fruit juice, Sprite, Smirnoff vodka, and a pile of magazines, we were able to entertain ourselves for hours. Starting innocently enough with picking our top five hottest celebrities, the game soon progressed to Who Would You Most Like to...uh, Kiss. The game consisted of two people guessing who the third person was going to choose. If you got it wrong, you rolled the die and drank (unless you got a six, which then passed the drinking back to the chooser). The magazine selections provided us with some great "never-to-forget" nights and some definite "what-was-I-thinking?" nights. And then we passed out.

[special thanks to Katie for getting us ice]

I just found out that you're not allowed to eat soft cheeses (e.g. feta, brie, etc.) when you're pregnant because of the possibility of bacteria. "Another reason not to get pregnant," I said to myself as I delved into my feta-covered mini pizza.

One thing I find fascinating about working for a large company is the impact of the "finally-putting-a-face-to-a-name" moment. I probably email or call thirty people on a regular basis that I have never met in person. But when I finally do meet them, I know it will be interesting. In the past, the experience has always shown the person to be older/younger/nicer/meaner/whiter/ethnic-er than I expected them to be and who knows what they're thinking about me! This isn't even counting the dozens of professors I'm in contact with on a daily basis. They all just think I'm related to Carlos Santana (which I am...two of them to be exact...just not THAT Carlos Santana).

What is it about computer games (or video games, for that matter) that turn adult men into sloppy, brainless globs of nothing? And men out there, I don't want to hear about how it's the exact same thing for women when they go shopping...shopping requires constant brain activity (e.g. prior knowledge-"Do I already own one of these?", reflection-"This is much cuter than the one I saw so-and-so wearing.", judgement-"I'll have to wait until these are on sale.", etc.) Though it hasn't been studied yet, I would even say shopping might actually make us smarter - and definitely cuter! Can you say the same for your Warcraft/Madden200?/EmpireEarth/(put appropriate geeky title in here) games? I didn't think so.

I just noticed that someone tampered with my emailLabs pen. It now reads emailbabes (with changes made in a dark, permanent marker). Which leads me to ask - are my co-workers really that bored?

In case you were wondering-

i.e. translates to "that is"
e.g. translates to "for example"

This past Friday, Adrian and I went to see 'One Hour Photo,' starring Robin Williams. Contrary to Anderson's belief that we would not like it because it was "a character study," we both found it to be quite a fascinating film. I was particular impressed by how well it was put together and how colors were used throughout. I was also happy that it didn't take long to forget Robin Williams was playing the lonely, creepy man.

In other news, we rented 'The Rookie' last night, starring Dennis (not Randy!) Quaid. Adrian had been shying away from this film for a long time because it was both G-rated and a Disney film (though he went on to tell me 'The Little Mermaid' is one of his favorite movies, so go figure). I had heard nothing but good things about the film so I assumed it couldn't be that bad (bad equaling cheesy). Well, I was wrong. Halfway through, I had to admit that not only was the movie slow and unexciting, but that it was bad. Plain and simple, bad and cheesy. The only saving grace was that we rented the DVD version and were able to see interviews with the real Jim Morris and his family. Those 10 minutes made up for the rest of the film.