More please.

After spending a remarkable weekend in Lake Tahoe with my sister and (most of) her family, I’m happy to report that I can still ski, and troubled to report that I want to do it again as soon as possible.  While I didn’t think I’d forgotten how to ski in the last twenty years, I was surprised at how easy it was to remember –– I skied a black diamond on Saturday, and given a few more days I probably would ski one without having my sister talk me into it.

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More please.

songs about robots

March has finally arrived, and I’m beginning the month right by flying out to California tomorrow to see my sister and her family.  We’re also going skiing this weekend at Lake Tahoe, which will be interesting considering I haven’t skied in about twenty years.  It’s like riding a bike, right?  Right.  Even if I do break my neck, it will be nice to get some distance from my present life, look at it from a relative distance, all that.  When I return to Brooklyn next week, I damn well better have a newfound sense of perspective, in addition to a nearly completed script and a non-broken neck.

It appears as if I got 14 of my 22 Oscar picks right, which is 64%, or my average test score in most of my undergraduate French courses (C’est vray!).  My picks were foolish, however, as they didn’t account for the bullshit politicking that goes on (particularly by the Weinsteins).  “Social Network” (which should have won) was the frontrunner several months ago, until the insane campaign for “The King’s Speech” was launched, which effectively crushed the competition.  Don’t get me wrong, “The King’s Speech” was a good film, but it wouldn’t have been a good film without the performances –– Colin Firth was remarkable, and deserved to win, but Best Film and Best Directing?  Really?  Seems I was overly optimistic after “The Hurt Locker” won last year, but apparently it’s back to benign for the Oscars.

My mom retired from her job at American Greetings today, which is amazing and all good.  She’s worked there for… well, more than thirty years, and if anyone is deserving of an extended vacation it’s my mother.  My dad surprised her with a limo, along with my aunts and uncles, in which they drank champagne en route to a nice restaurant.  My mom called me from the limo after two glasses of champagne, and––yeah––I hope nobody got arrested, and I look forward to seeing the photographs.

I was considering including an update on the delinquent freelance payment situation (which would, incidentally, be a horrible name for a band: “The Delinquent Freelance Payment Situation”, although I’d probably go see them play anyway), but I need to try and sleep, and there’s no need to end this post on such a negative note.

It’s March 2011, which could be a good name for a band:  “March 2011”.  They write songs about robots.