netflix scores

I came across Dead Like Me while browsing through my suggestions. The premise sounded funny and reminded me of Christopher Moore's Dirty Job.

The show centers on a motley crew of grim reapers headed by a droll boss and anchored by the group's college-age newcomer, who doesn't quite know what she's doing or even why she was chosen for the job in the first place. But soon, she grows to recognize the poetry in her purpose.

I watched half of the pilot at home and the rest at work during my meal break. It was smart, funny, and somehow very familiar. The few kids sitting with me (and I do mean kids, all under 18) enjoyed the parts they caught.

This past weekend I sat through the next nine episodes and once again had a nagging feeling about how familiar the show was. I pulled up good ol' IMDB and while reading the credits, realized that Bryan Fuller is one of the creators and producer. You may remember him from my favorite show of the new millennium, Wonderfalls, which lasted all of four episodes on FOX.

Let's compare ...
Both have the female lead doing the voice overs
Both girls were college dropouts in search of themselves
Both girls have very dry wit
Both have disconnected family members
Both have "job" encounters that also have significant meanings in their personal life

I love the opening credits which features Reapers doing everyday things; clocking in; at the water cooler; eating lunch; doing laundry; and at the gym. It's official, when I die, I want to be a Reaper. I'll finally have a job where I don't have to wear a nametag.

reading

I'm not sure what took over me, but April was non-fiction reading month.

Susie visited a month ago and, as usual, one of our stops was the local Borders. We hit the "Buy 2 Get 1 Free" table and I picked up Anna Seierstad's The Bookseller of Kabul. The book chronicles a period in the life of a well off (in comparison to everyone else in their town) Afghanistani family post 9/11 after the Taliban were driven away. I didn't know much about that part of the world and after reading this book it made me appreciate the freedoms we enjoy in this country even more. The chapters that focused on Sultan's younger sister and his son were the most moving.

I finished the Bookseller of Kabul mid-commute so I dropped in Kramers and perused their non-fiction trade paperback table. I remember Tim Harford's The Undercover Economist selling well so I decided to give it a try (if I didn't like I could always return it as long as I didn't dog ear the pages.) It was Economics 101 in book form. Now I know why Starbucks charges what they charge for a cup of coffee; why so many countries grow coffee; why some countries have improved the countries' financial stability while others continue to have the lowest GNPs; why supermarkets charge different prices in different locations for the same item; and how Amazon targeted their prices to individual shoppers.

There were many mentions of globalization which led me to read Franklin Foer's How Soccer Explains The World. Chris, my BFF, is a hard core soccer fan ... hardcore. I've heard him talk at length about AC Milan, Arsenal, and Chelsea. Foer's book delves into their inceptions, how they compare to other teams, and how their successes or failures depended on their countries government policies, religious fervor, and cultural differences. Now when Chris babbles about Ronoldo, Shevchenko, and Baros, I'll know which hottie he's referring to, what country they're from, and who they play for.

name that baby follow-up

My co-worker gave birth to a beautiful boy and gave him a very ethnic name ... Thomas Michael.

rock the house yall

Last night, we were tooling about the apartment and none of the usual distractions were capturing our attention. Internet … naw … iTunes … nope … TiVo … maybe tomorrow ... books … not feeling it … good-looking men … hell yeah!

It was 80’s night at JR’s and we were treated to the musical stylings of Seal, Madonna, Howard Jones, Living In a Box, and others I didn’t remember. They even played Lisa Lisa and Cult Jam's “Let the Beat Hit ‘Em." Yup, I sang and bopped along. My favorite good-looking bartender was working so I placed myself across from his station and watched him work his charm on the men. Apparently he’s a favorite to many because of the four stations, his was never free.

Chaos was our second stop, a place we hadn’t been to in over eighteen months. The normally rude manager didn't disappoint (why does he work in the service industry when he’s such a pill?) He was standing outside smoking and barely acknowledged our presence although we frequented Chaos almost every Thursday for two years. There was an extremely good-looking man working the door. I pulled out my ID but he also asked me to pull out my cell phone and keys. He waved a metal detection wand all over me, then he patted me down, and then he asked me to turn around and repeated the same steps.

I looked over at My Honey while this was happening and told him, “I don’t want to spend our money in a place that treats us like criminals or terrorists.” He said it was up to me. I turned to the very good-looking doorman and told him, “Sorry, I think we’ll go somewhere else.”

I have never been patted down at an average “white” gay bar in DC, so why put up with it at a Latino gay bar? I didn’t like the implication that we’re thugs and that we carry concealed weapons when we decide to get our groove on. Someone at the next bar said they frisk because there was a knifing there. So because of one isolated event, a whole race is stereotyped into hooligans. I wish there were other Latino alternatives to Chaos and then, maybe, just maybe, they would start treating their Latino based clientele with more respect. Come on Latinos, we can, and must do better. This bar is officially dead to me. I will never go back even though the patrons always made me fell tall.

We walked up to Cobalt and were ID-ed by yet another good-looking doorman who smiled us on up. The place was packed and there were many cuties on both bar floors. I saw some of the old Chaos regulars there and in my mind I knew that were also boycotting Chaos for their door practices. We had a few beers, chatted with a few friends and then headed out as soon as the underwear contest began. I could have stayed out all night but My Honey had an early day today.

survivor, latin style

mmmm ... jesus

calvin, feed me

Ran across the Carson Daly's Show while surfing last night. What the hell happened to him? He scared the bejeezus out of me and made me jump right out of bed. He reminded me of the NYCity bus posters featuring Kate Moss for Calvin Klein. Someone please buy him a pint of Chunky Monkey.

name that baby

Speaking of names, one of the ladies at work is about three weeks out from birthing a brand spanking new baby boy and she and her husband are nowhere near selecting a name for him. She put out feelers to the staff and I think I'm the only one that gave her suggestions.

They're thinking ethnic so I proudly suggested the following: Adan, Alejandro, Andres, Caleb, Ceferino, Emanuel, Gabriel, Domingo, Jacobo, Jonas, Jorge, Martin, Mateo, Mauricio, Pascual, Ramiro, Santiago, Sebastian, Silas, & Tomas.

They both have three syllable latin last names so it was hard coming up with something that didn't end up being a mouthful. Only a few more weeks until we know ... they'll probably end choosing Brandon.

reading

Didn’t have much to do on Friday so I went to see Jhumpa Lahiri’s Namesake at the E Street Landmark Theater. You know that feeling you get when you’ve made a wrong turn? That’s the feeling I got as I entered death’s waiting room … er … theater 3 … old everywhere ... and all of them in the best seats. Rats.

I enjoyed reading the Namesake last year and only recently found out that a movie was being released in March with my favorite stoner Kal Penn in the role of Gogol. Namesake was one of my favorite reads of 2006 (I miss Advanced Readers Copies).

I related with many of the book/movie’s themes; the culture clashes, first generation Americans, and returning to your family roots. I would have liked to see more of Gogol’s parent first years in America as they assimilated to life in a strange country and embraced Bengali strangers to form an extended family unit (Aunties galore).

I was very moved by the scene where Gogol has his head shaved in respect for his father. Thankfully, I sat toward the back and everyone was spared the flowing tears. I’ve written before, I am very moved by rites and rituals.

I went to the B&N on the corner to see if they had any books on Indian rituals but, they didn’t have much to offer. Actually, their history section lacked “breadth” (another point for Borders.) I picked up and am breezing through Lahiri’s Pulitzer Prize winning collection of short stories, Interpreter of Maladies.

for no particular reason at all

A cipher,
wrapped in a conundrum,
smothered in secret sauce.