Cheeky's Hideaway

Obama Said Knock You Out

*click refresh*

hmmm...nothin'

*click refresh*

huh.  Still nothin'

*click refresh*

Christ, when is there going to be some news on who won?

I've been watching the Democratic nomination contest it's like Sunday night during fantasy football season.  I got used to having a primary or caucus every freakin' day, and now I expect some delegate to switch or a juicy news story to pop every few seconds.  Throw a pass, Obama!  No not to Huckabee!  Nader intercepts!  GAH!

Mostly I just want it to end.  I need closure.

Doesn't it feel like everyone's been running for president since opening night of Genesis' Abacab tour?  Who did Nixon endorse?  Didn't I see a Clinton campaign rally at a local arcade?

As a life long Democrat, I was pretty psyched about the options this year.  Granted, anything would look good after John Kerry, but I'd have been happy with about any of them.  I was sorta pulling for Joe Biden at first, 'cause when is Delaware gonna have another chance to nominate a president?  But Clinton, Obama, Edwards, & Richardson all seemed just fine to me.  I figured Clinton was probably a lock, but it would be fun to watch the red shirts play along until she and her hubby dispatched them like a terrorists attacking Imaginationland.

Then along came Obama.

I've got to say, the guy has totally won me over.  It's not because of his policies or his speeches, although I like those, too.  It's because he refuses to engage in the posturing, pandering, and negativity that I've become acclimated to in presidential politics.  He just feels genuine, totally confident in what he believes in and how to get there.  Hillary is so studied, so obviously in control that the logic of what she says is overcome by how scripted and user-tested it is.  If people disagreed with Obama, I think he'd be frustrated but would passionately stick to his guns, hoping to convince them and find common ground.  If people disagreed with Hillary, I think she'd change her tune to appear like she's always agreed with them.  And that kinda bugs me.

As the "momentum" has built and the Clinton campaign obituaries started to surface I felt some relief, like this whole thing was almost blessedly over.  But it's NOT!  We have to wait until Tuesday, and then we might have to wait again if that's inconclusive.  It's like a never-ending game of Whac-a-Mole, and it's wearing me out.

So if you're reading this in Texas, Ohio, Vermont or Rhode Island, please IN THE NAME OF GOD pick a side and decisively END THIS THING so we can all move on with our lives..

Wait....the real election isn't until November? 

That's it.  We're moving to Canada.
 

Live-Blogging the Academy Awards

I'm obviously a huge movie buff.  In addition to obsessively quoting them and challenging anyone foolish enough to think they can top me at movie trivia, I also follow the weekend box office (cringing every time Nicholas Cage or Adam Sandler gets a #1 movie) and, of course, religiously watch the Oscars.

It's the only award show I can think of that actually does a passable job of honoring the best of the business (unlike, say, the Grammies) and get pumped up when my favorite movies win.  Sure, I'm a little bummed that my three favorite films from last year didn't get a Best Picture nod, but I have to acknowledge that maybe two hours of battle-porn isn't for everyone.  This could be the last year that my movie watching isn't dominated by crap like Alvin & the Chipmunks or The Game Plan, so I'd better milk this for whatever I can.

So tonight I'll TRY to live-blog the ceremony.  By the end I'll probably want to put a gun to my head (and the longer I have to listen to Regis interview blow-hard movie stars that may happen sooner) but hopefully Jon Stewart will keep me sane.  No promises, though...if it gets too long or too smug I may call it quits early.  Here we go:

8:21 - Holy god, how long does the damn red carpet ceremony last?  This is excruciating!  Why do I care if Hillary Swank is wearing Versace?  I may have to start drinking right now.

8:33 - Viggo Mortenson looks like Chewbacca

8:40 - Gaydolf Titler.  Heh.  The asteroid joke was better, though

8:41 - We're starting with costumes?  Zzzzzzzz.

8:52 - Why does Anne Hathaway's nose look like a ostrich beak straight on?  Is that an optical illusion?

8:59 - Why the fuck does Enchanted have three songs nominated?  Did no one see Into the Wild?  Those Disney songs are such treacle I want to wretch.  I'd take the Transformers soundtrack over that crap in a heartbeat.

9:11 - I usually try to predict the Oscars on Dadcentric, but I never got around to it this year.  I was too busy posting videos of animals cursing instead.  I've got to admit, though, that I've been dead wrong on almost all of my predictions so far. 

9:18 - Javier Bardem. Swish.  Thank god, too, because if he hadn't won he'd have eliminated the competition with a compressed-air gun.

9:31 - Remember when they inserted Beavis & Butthead into the Academy Awards?  That was funnier than Jerry Seinfeld's bee cameo.  A lot funnier.  And I don't remember laughing.  How stupid do they think we are?  By the way, how far back do they stick the guys who are nominated for this?  I think the winners had to walk around some popcorn vendors to get to the stage.

9:38 - I thought Tilda Swinton should have been nominated for Narnia.  Michael Clayton was awesome, too...good for her!

9:44 - How much fun do you think Jessica Alba had at the Scientific/Technical Awards after-party?  I'll bet lots of guys asked her to sign their Dark Angel figurines.

9:48 - Oodgie is bored out of her mind...she just bailed.  I've got to admit, so am I.

10:03 - Sound editing.  Uh, what?  At least I liked the Bourne Ultimatum.  It totally rocked...if you haven't seen it, rent it now.  Seriously, right now...it's probably more entertaining than this.

10:06 - Dude, they just showed a clip with the scorpion Transformer.  They need an award for the most bad-assed monster-thing of the year.  That would totally win.

10:12 - Man, my predictions SUCKED tonight.  Marion Cotillard?  Never saw that coming.  Then again I didn't see La Vie en Rose.  And neither did you, admit it.  It made less money than Pathfinder: Legend of the Ghost Warrior.

10:18 - If the song from Once doesn't win this award I'm going to puke.  Such a good movie...soundtrack of the year, in my opinion.  On a side note, doesn't that guy look like Dr. Cox?

10:27 - Could Renee Zellweger be the squintiest person alive?

10:31 - Hey, Nicole Kidman, I haven't seen that much bling since Mr. T.

10:44 - I love how they say, "This is the second award...for Austria"  As if the whole country got together with a bunch of camcorders to make it.

10:48 - Oodgie was begging me to make that last song from Enchanted stop.  It went on about 4 minutes too long.

10:49 - BTW, I used to like John Travolta.  Now I just want him to trip and fall head-first into a bear trap.

10:52 - Yeah!  Once!  And kudos to Stewart for letting the girl come back out to say thanks.

11:01 - It's obituary time.  Let's see who bums me out the most.  Yep, Heath Ledger.  No surprise there.

11:11 - For my money, I still think Tom Hanks peaked during the second season of Bosom Buddies.

11:23 - When the hell is Harrison Ford going to get his Oscar?  Come ON!  As for the award, I'm pulling hard for Juno.

11:25 - Ok, that's like the third one I've got right tonight.

11:34 - "Did you see what his wife was wearing?" Oodgie asks.  Daniel Day Lewis' date does have something rather...unique on.  Hey, she's there with DDL...she can wear bright red ribbon-straps and a plastic spaceship brooch if she wants.

11:38 - Definitely ready for this to end.  This is paced like a drive across Wyoming.

11:44 - Finally, the guys who brought you Fargo and the Big Lebowski get their due.  Now I can go to bed.

That's it (thankfully).  Next year I'll read someone else's blog.  Hope you all won your Oscar pools, 'cause I sure look like a moron right now.

Can't We Take Her to Springsteen Instead?

Before becoming a parent, nothing scared me more than the "activities."  Not diapers, not sleepless nights, not Upromise accounts...nothing.  Kids in crowds, chaotically running and screaming like spring breakers at Senor Frog's have as much appeal to me as sawing a linoleum knife between my toes.  I swore I would do everything in my power to avoid such events.

Two and a half years in and I have much the same opinion.  But that didn't stop us from buying Sesame Street Live tickets.

What the hell else were we gonna do on a cold Sunday morning?

Cheeky's love affair with Ernie and Elmo ain't what it used to be, but since I'd rather walk through the gates of hell than see Dora live Sesame Street seemed like a relatively benign way to kill a couple hours. 

Madison Square Garden--thrilled to be hosting anything but a Knicks game--was the venue.  We took our seats in a surprisingly empty section (a temporary thing, as dozens of harried parents arrived soon after it started) and I sipped my $4.50 Diet Coke (price gouging: alive and well).  As the lights dimmed Bert and Ernie took the stage to begin the sort of witty banter that appeals to six year olds and the mentally challenged.  I knew it was going to be a long couple hours.

Mind you, the whole thing wasn't bad.  The kids were relatively well-behaved, and the story, which revolved around Super Grover's lack of sleep and personal hygiene, did an admirable job of keeping Baby Bear off the stage.  But I couldn't help think that the cast would be frantically calling their agents after the show.  ("I said Susan Stroman, not Susan & Gordon!")  The music sounded like it came from a cheap boombox behind the curtains, and the periodic appearance of a random woman named Kay (you know, 'cause 'K' was the letter of the day) was an odd, undersized counterpoint to the rainbow of monsters on stage.  By intermission (!!!) my mind had slipped into a fugue in which the characters had blurred into psychedelic fractal screensaver. 

If Cheeky weren't jumping up and down on my legs I'd have slept for an hour.

We walked away a little spent, carrying one of 75,000 Elmo balloons and a heart-warming message about ....um...what was it?  Friendship?  Getting enough exercise?  Talking cheese?  I can't remember.  Cheeky had a good time, and although we felt like we'd lost an hour of our lives it was a small price to pay to see her happy.  Besides, it could have been much, much worse.

Story Time at Casa de Cheeky

"Daddy, will you tell me a story?"

The big blue eyes looked up at me, while the ketchup-stained lips continued to smack away at their chicken fingers.  Stories had recently become a part of meal time, and with Oodgie out of the room I was on the spot.

Oodgie usually deals with this by telling inane stories that sound remarkably like snippets of daily life.  "Once upon a time there was a little girl named Cheeky who went to Grandma's house and played with puzzles.  Then she had some mac and cheese and chased the cats, then she came home.  The end."  It works--Cheeky's into it--but our lives are so collectively boring that for me reliving them in a abridged toddler-speak is makes me dream of placing a shotgun between my teeth.

Faced with the prospect of fulfilling my darling daughter's request for entertainment--but unwilling to take the quicker, easier, more seductive route outlined above--I immediately rifled through the poorly organized cards in my mental rolodex looking for some nursery rhyme or fairy tale still loitering around from childhood. 

To my dismay, though, I found that despite a clear recollection of once knowing the Grimm cannon and other random folklore I could in no way compile a narrative thread that held any of them together.  I could name principle characters, and generally remembered the horrific things that happen to them (grandparents eaten by wolf, children locked in rooms, talking animals, etc.) but a story about giants or severed body parts would at best confuse Cheeky, and at worst send her running into the den to watch Dora and punish us with another hour of her incessant yelling.  (Dora's, not Cheeky's)

So I improvised.

"Once upon a time there was a cop named John McClane, who flew in a big airplane to see his wife in LA.  But when he got to Nakatomi Plaza he discovered the building was being robbed by a bad man named Hans, who tried very hard to stop Officer McClane.  But Officer McClaine was very resourceful, and after walking across glass and jumping off the roof, he eventually stopped Hans and save everybody.  Hooray!  The end!"

"What on earth are you doing in there?" piped Oodgie from another room.  "That's not a good story!"

"First of all, it IS a good story, and second it's what I know!  I can't just make up a story as good as that one!  Did you like the story, Cheeky?"

Pause

"Sure!"  She reached down to get another chicken finger.

An audible sigh can be heard through the wall.  I relaxed, knowing that once again I had overcome adversity and mastered a crucial talent of parenting...in my own way.

"Can you tell me another story, Daddy?"

"Of course, sweety.  Once upon a time a soldier named Dutch took his team of elite commandos into the jungle to extract an informant, but little did they know that there was an alien hunter in the treetops waiting to pick them off, one by one...."

The end.

Brady, meet Turf. Turf, this is Brady.

I sure didn't see that coming.

I squat right in the middle of Giant Nation, and across the board every Giant fan I talked to last week all had some variation on "we're just happy to be here" or "I just hope we don't lose by too much."  None of them had any expectation of winning the Super Bowl.

I guess someone forgot to mention that to the players.

I have to admit I was sorta hoping the Patriots would win because

1. They've had a hell of a year
2. I didn't want to deal with thousands of obnoxious Giants fans the next day
3. I wanted the '72 Dolphins to shut up, already

But despite it being, by all accounts, a pretty boring game (unless you're into reading defensive schemes, which my Madden '08 record clearly indicates I'm not) I have to admit I'm proud of what the Giants accomplished last night.  After all the crap Eli, Coughlin, Strahan, and the rest of the team dealt with from the fans and media this year, this must be such sweet redemption.

And I'm saying this despite having that dazed, hollowed-out feeling I always have after a Super Bowl, generally the result of miscalculation as to just how much gin my body is willing to tolerate.  That "loophole" I found in my diet was apparently big enough to drive a bus through, but with a little help from my body's retroperistalsis mechanism I actually managed to consume negative calories in the end.

(FYI, for those keeping score at home I'm down 10 lbs...not bad, eh?  Still not at my target, but a good start)

Anyway, congrats to all the Giant fans who erased the bitter memory of Super Bowl XXXV from their collective minds.  And my condolences to all the Patriots fans, who are allowed only a couple days to mourn before they have to shut up and remember they still have the Sox and the Celtics.