Long ago, I resigned myself to the fact that Google will eventually take over the world. As of today, Google has the final piece of the puzzle.

My blog.

That’s right. I’m moving my blog to the Google-owned Bloogle, or whatever it’s called. It’s “blogspot” in the url. The new address: http://jameystegmaier.blogspot.com Please join me there for today’s entry, part of which will explain the real reasons behind the move.

Farewell, LiveJournal. You’ve been like a third mother to me.

The Caroline Vault #2: The Yawn Destroyer

I don’t remember when it started, but a while back, I was in the midst of an extremely gratifying, 5 second + yawn when, just as it was coming to an end, I realized Jamey had put his finger in my mouth. He has since made a habit out of this. He doesn’t do it every time I yawn; maybe 1 out of every 10 when he’s nearby. It’s one of the most unnerving things a person can do to you, because the yawn is a very personal, relaxing, oxygen-acquiring experience. To have a finger in your mouth ruins the vibe of the entire thing, and the cruelest part is that you don’t even realize it’s there until you’re wrapping up the grand finale. The finger in the mouth prevents you for being about to finish the yawn, which has made me come to realize the importance of the last second of the yawn.

Jamey gets a maniacal satisfaction out of this that is comprehendible only to someone equally disturbed. The moral of the story is, if you’re trying to engage in a fulfilling yawn, be wary if Jamey is around. I’m at 23 ruined yawns and counting.

Point/Counterpoint

I don’t really have a good counterpoint to what Caroline has revealed above; it’s all true. I think it stems from a morbid curiosity of mine to see what happens when a natural motion like a yawn is disrupted by an outside force. In the same way, I’d love to find a way to keep someone’s eyes open when they sneeze.

Just this past weekend, I read a book review that discussed yawns. Apparently yawning is only contagious to about 50% of the population. Research shows that the half that yawns when they see someone else yawn or even just read the word yawn is more self-aware and empathetic. After I read this, I walked up to Caroline and yawned. I wanted to see her reaction. Unfazed, she blinked back at me. No yawn. I smuggly informed her that she has no self-awareness or empathy and went about my business.

In response, she sucker-punched me in the back of my neck.

Survivor/The Wire

With the last episode of Survivor: China airing on Sunday and the last DVD of The Wire: Season 4 in my possession, I finished both shows that day. I’ve watched most seasons of Survivor, and I think it’s pretty much the best a reality show can be. I like it when the good guys win and when people don’t stick to tribal alliances; this season didn’t meet either of those requirements, but it was still entertaining. Next season they’re pitting “super-fans” against previous Survivors, which should be interesting. With no dramas or sitcoms on the air, I bet it’ll be one of the top-rated shows on TV.

As for The Wire, you’ve already read my glowing reviews of this show. Season 4 is just as good as any of the other seasons, if not better. It’s also probably the saddest of the four seasons, mainly because some of the main characters are kids (this season delves into the inner-city school system). It’s pretty amazing to me that the show has maintained a high level of intimacy with the characters despite its ever-expanding cast. If you have some time over the winter break, watch this show. I guarantee that you’ll finally feel like you know how the ghetto works.

The Other Irruminations

As Bob pointed out on a recent post, there’s another Irruminations blog out there (http://irruminations.blogspot.com/). The similarities between our lives are remarkable: We both recently changed jobs, we both thought we were unique and special in thinking of the word “irruminations,” and we’re both retired Filipino actors and singers living in Boston and loving it. Actually, the main difference is that the other Irruminations blogger is a woman (so, “actress” would be more appropriate). In truth, it seems to be a well-written blog, much more of a journal or diary than mine. However, she managed to beat me to the punch with several excellent YouTube videos; I’m about three years behind on all popular videos and songs.

The Last Post of 2007: Operation Flaming Streets

When I moved into my condo, I was fully prepared to be a man-about-town in this rejuvenated neighborhood. I was going to go to all the meetings, be best friends with the district representative, and know the names of all of the police officers in St. Louis City (there are only three of them, so it’s not that hard to remember). Two and a half years later, I’m the least active community member here. I’m ashamed of it, but not quite ashamed enough to cancel plans to sell my condo is six months and get out of here.

However, back when I was doe-eyed and optimistic, I had an idea for improving the safety of the residents in my neighborhood. I called it Operation Flaming Streets. The idea was simple: Better sidewalk and street lighting. The streets of Pershing are dotted by these dim lights that were probably installed in the ‘70s and haven’t been cleaned since then. They give off very little light, particularly in the spring and summer when there are leaves on the trees. The streets here are very dark, and darkness gives the perception of uncertainty, which makes nighttime pedestrians feel unsafe.

My plan was to call the district representative and tell her about my idea, and a few days later the lights would be installed. Needless to say, I never made the call, so nothing ever happened.

But I have a new idea, a reigniting of Operation Flaming Streets, if you will. In Clayton, the posh, wide sidewalks are spruced up with little trees with tiny fences around them (I think they’re dog parks for teensy dogs). The trees are entwined with white Christmas lights that shine year-round. Although they don’t add much actual light to the sidewalks, the make the street look fancy, and that seems to attract fancy people to the area. So why can’t this work on Pershing? All I have to do is call the district representative after Christmas and suggest that we ask people to donate one string of white Christmas lights to the cause. Staple-gun those lights to the trees and plug them in to the numerous electrical outlets that line the sidewalks (I haven’t checked, but I can only assume they’re there), and ask for the city to foot the electric bill. It’s glitch-proof.

Seriously, I’d like for something like this to work, even though I know it won’t. Maybe Obama will do something about it in ’08.

Speaking of ’08, I’ll see you then with a bunch of lists (my favorite songs, movies, and books of 2007). Safe travels to all of you, and I wish you and your families the best.

--Jamey

The Caroline Vault

Alas, Caroline didn’t meet her deadline today. I tried to get Ole’ Crusty to fill in, but he’s working the runway tonight (at the airport—he’s an air-traffic controller on odd Tuesdays). The Vault will be back tomorrow.

Just In: Japanese Conquer Fear

Reading that, I’m sure you think, “I didn’t know the Japanese feared anything.” You’d almost be right. The Japanese, a people who rose from the ashes of World War II, have managed to build a technologically advanced empire on an island the size of California in the span of a mere 60 years, a feat that some countries haven’t been able to come close to achieving in tens of thousands of years. Needless to say, the Japanese have very little to fear.

Except for one thing.

Cats.

That’s right, the Japanese harbor a secret fear of cats. During the three different times I spent in Japan, it wasn’t uncommon for me to see schoolgirls running from cats, screaming for help. I once saw an aging business man ditch his bike and jump off a bridge when a cat jumped out in front of him. And unless my eyes deceived me, I saw a small tabby hold up an izakaya with little more than a pocketknife and a well-timed hairball.

But a new day has dawned in Japan. After decades of research, the Japanese have isolated the gene that promotes fear of cats. See the following article: http://news.wired.com/dynamic/stories/J/JAPAN_FEARLESS_MOUSE?SITE=WIRE&SECTION=HOME&TEMPLATE=DEFAULT&CTIME=2007-12-13-04-57-43

"Mice, like Japanese people, are naturally terrified of cats, and usually panic or flee at the smell of one. But mice with certain nasal cells removed through genetic engineering didn't display any fear," said researcher Ko Kobayakawa. “So we applied the same technique to 18-24 year-old Japanese people.” In his experiment, the genetically altered Japanese approached cats, even snuggled up to them and played with them. Kobayakawa said he chose domesticated cats that were docile and thus less likely to pounce.

“Those wild city cats,” he said, his hands shaking, “will kill you and eat your brain.”

Kobayakawa expects his discovery to result in a nationwide genetic re-engineering that will lead to a happy coexistence with cats.

“The day will soon come when I can walk down the street without fear of being mauled by a gang of kittens,” Kobayakawa asserted. “I will probably still be mauled. But at least I won’t be afraid anymore.”

The Golden Compass Box Office Update for Those Who Care (Probably Just Me)

Partially due to the Christian response (which I think is completely unnecessary…there’s hardly anything religious about The Golden Compass movie), TGC has not performed well in domestic theaters. After two weeks, this $180 million dollar budget movie has grossed only $41 million in the States (in stark contrast to the $90 million abroad). This doesn’t bode well for the sequels. I’m hoping they still get made, but it’s going to have to come on strong in the holiday season to get up to a respectable $80 mil. I guess it’s not a good idea to release a movie that’s perceived as anti-Christian in the month of Christmas.

Holiday Gift Guide

Here’s my guide to holiday gifts: Buy less stuff. And encourage the buying of less stuff. Below are a few ideas on how to do that.

Netflix

Several years ago, I was buying a lot of DVDs. I thought it was important for me to own my favorite movies. But then I realized that I hardly ever watched the DVDs I owned. I still went to the theater. I still watched movies on TV. Sure, every once in a while I’d pull out a DVD, but not nearly often enough to justify the purchases of 100 DVDs. The solution is simple: Give Netflix (or Blockbuster, but I’m loyal to the ‘flix for no real reason). Give the gift of less clutter. Hopefully there will be cost-effective options like this for books in the future.

iTunes

Pat will disagree with me, but I love iTunes for one simple reason: I don’t have to buy whole albums. I can sample songs and pick the ones I like, or the ones other people recommend. Give the gift of specificity—there’s no waste if people pick only the songs they like (Pat will counter that you miss the experience of listening to an entire album by picking and choosing your songs, but you still have that option if you want it).

TiVo

TiVo speaks for itself. Give the gift of efficiency and social flexibility. You can maximize your time with TiVo, but you can still watch everything you want to watch. Plus, if the receiver of the gift ever let a show prevent them from hanging out with you, now they have no excuse.

ING

If you have extra money that you’re not investing in a house or a mutual fund or an IRA or a 401k, it should be in an ING account making 4.10% interest. Put $30 in a new account for a friend this holiday season (there’s no minimum balance)—give the gift of dividends.

Moon Property

I just read today that private entities can buy property on the moon (per UN restrictions, nations cannot): http://www.reuters.com/article/oddlyEnoughNews/idUSEIC76452320071217?feedType=RSS&feedName=oddlyEnoughNews&rpc=69 . At $22/acre, this is a steal. Seriously, I don’t think that moon colonies will ever make sense at all, but someone’s going to try to do it someday. Why not get in on the action now when the prices are low? I’m sure that Phoenix, Arizona used to be as deserted as the moon—an acre of land bought there for a mere twopence several decades ago is worth thousands now.

Tomorrow:

The Caroline Vault

Survivor/The Wire

The Other Irruminations

2007 Playlist

The Top 10 Festivus Grievances of 2007

Without further adieu, here are the top grievances of 2007, as presented at my Festivus party. They were selected by me and ranked by a person who wishes to remain nameless (this person thinks that people will be able to guess who he/she is by his/her comments, which are in brackets. Also, that person added grievances 7a and 4a). That person guessed 72 peanuts on my balcony, which was the closest guess to the actual number of peanuts: 90 (and yes, I swept them up the day after Festivus).

The list:

10. The Travelocity Roaming Gnome—his antics are giving other garden porcelain a bad name

9. Dane Cook—for telling us over and over that there is only one Actober! [It took about a year, but finally everyone realizes that Dane Cook sucks.]

8. Hips that lie

7. Delilah After Dark—for many reasons, including her poor taste in music when people ask her to pick a song and when she refers to diamonds as “bling.”

7a. Pat's Mom

6.   People who use phrases like “anywho” and “what can I do you for?”

5.   Popped collars

4.   The decline of the adverb.  Ex. I feel bad vs. I feel badly.    

4a. The fact that pimping isn’t easy. [We all know slutty girls; it seems like wasted money.]

3. My dog was neutered and he’s still licking his balls in pleasure (and humping me occasionally)

2. Urinal cakes—not as tasty as other pastries

1. Girls who can’t take a punch (written by a girl) [In memory of Ike Turner.]

It’s a really solid list. I have to say, this past summer I popped the collar of a polo shirt to see how it looked, and it’s just a bad call. It’s like you’re converting your three-button shirt into a shortsleeve turtleneck. Does this look cool?

Nope.

Why Won’t I Stop Grieving?

It seems like half of this blog (in general, not just this entry) is me lamenting various pet peeves and grievances. The thing is, I’m not really much of a complainer. I’m just infatuated with the Seinfeld style of conversation that allows you to talk about nothing for half an hour, prompting discussions of why salmon got the shaft with the naming of “salmonella” and how “Don’t Walk on the Grass” signs get in the middle of fields if you can’t stroll out there (you need a helicopter and a harpoon). So I often think of grievances, and I’m fascinated—and delighted—by the annual Festivus list. However, the list never ends, and I have a few quick hits to add.

Why Doesn’t One Pound of Chocolate Equal One Pound of Me?

This question is better posed by someone who is concerned about their weight, but regardless, it’s a valid question (one that cannot be answered by so-called “dieticians” or “scientists”). If I ate a one-pound weight, I would immediately be one pound heavier, and if/when it came out the other end, I’d be one pound lighter. Why doesn’t this work with food?

That Damn Voicemail “V” for Voicemails That Aren’t There

This past Monday, I deleted the last of my voicemails, but the little “V” icon didn’t go away. Nor did it go away Tuesday, or Wednesday, or Thursday, during which time I had to intermittently check my voicemail to see if someone had left a message, even though I knew deep down that no one had. It finally went away on its own accord on Friday. Why does this glitch exist? Have you ever had this happen? That little V drives me crazy, sitting there on my screen, mocking me, taunting me. I’m sure the iPod has a solution for this problem with a cool codename like “Tortoise Erection.”

Wedding Registry Shipping Fees

Simply put, it doesn’t make sense for customers to pay full price for the shipping of gifts through a wedding registry. The idea of a wedding registry in itself is collective, so why shouldn’t the cost of shipping the gifts be collective? For all gifts purchased up until a week before the wedding, the company can ship them all together, therefore saving themselves—and the buyer—shipping fees. I just bought a meat thermometer for a friend of mine who’s getting married in a few weeks (my gift message: Congratulations! Now you two won’t get salmonella.), and I had to pay $9 in shipping!?

Singers Who Talk Instead of Sing

A friend of mine recently recommended a band called The Hold Steady, so I sampled a few of their songs on iTunes. I like the sound of their music, but they don’t have a lead singer. Well, they have someone who claims to be their lead singer, but he doesn’t sing. He talks. And yells a little. This annoys me to no end. Anyone can talk. Some people have better speaking voices than others (i.e., James Earl Jones vs. Stephen Hawking), but anyone can do it. I buy music to listen to people who are more talented than me sing (pretty much everyone). For this same reason, I loathe the Sheryl Crow song “All I Wanna Do” and I can’t even listen to Vanessa Carlton’s Piano Song. I’m sure there are plenty of others, but those two stand out in particular.

One Non-Grievance

I want to end on a happy note, so here is one of the little things that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside: Finding and watching a Seinfeld episode that I’ve never seen. It’s like discovering an episode you’ve never seen of a show that you really love. Despite all the Seinfeld I’ve watched, this happened twice this weekend. The episodes were “The Beard” (George wears a toupee and dates a bald woman, Elaine is a token date for a gay guy, Jerry takes a lie detector test to prove he doesn’t watch Melrose Place) and “The Mom and Pop Store” (George buys John Voight’s car, Jerry isn’t invited to a dentist friend’s party, Elaine’s trophy pops the Woody Woodpecker float in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade).

Tomorrow:

The Caroline Vault

Just In: Japanese Conquer Fear

The Golden Compass Box Office Update for Those Who Care (Probably Just Me)

Holiday Gift Guide

The Lunch Thief

So, I work at a Catholic Student Center. The same Catholics that are supposed to abide by a little commandment called “Thou shall not steal.” However, I’ve discovered that there are exceptions to that rule when it comes to the main fridge at the CSC.

The other day, I put a tuna casserole in the fridge for lunch. I ate half for lunch that day and then put it back in the fridge. Now, to be fair, I had been cautioned that if I didn’t label the food I put in the fridge, someone would eat. But I figured that no one was going to eat food that’s clearly not theirs.

I figured wrong.

By lunchtime the next day, my food was gone. To add insult to injury, the person had left the Tupperware in the sink, so I had to wipe the last of my dignity off with a sponge myself. I learned my lesson, but I’m genuinely surprised that someone ate it. A lot of people put food in the CSC fridge with post-its that say “anyone can eat this,” but if a dish doesn’t have that label, why would someone think it’s up for grabs? I also understand that there’s always food in shared fridge that gets pushed to the back until it looks nothing like itself (Exhibit A: All leftovers from Caroline’s meals), but you can solve that by putting a date on the food. If it’s been in the fridge for a couple weeks, throw it away. I guess even that wastes food in the end, while if someone—if not the owner of the food, someone else—had eaten it already, it would have at least gone to good use.

Okay, I just sold myself on the idea. Unless I label my food, the CSC tenants are free to eat it. The ate^th commandment is safe.

Tier Two

A quick reminder about the contest: I’ve received four entries so far, so it’s wide open. The honor of ranking the Top 10 is considered sacrosanct in most countries.

Unemployed men who have 10 children by 8 different women.

Paris Hilton’s vagina (and Britney Spears’)

Ron Mexico—clean as a thistle!/Michael Vick—giving Virginia a bad name!

Dick Vitale

Women’s sizing—Really, what does size 8 mean? Just give it to me in inches.

Local news stations—Where are the hot girls? That’s the real reason nobody watches local news.

Hemorrhoids!

Men with breasts.

Bats and the associated diseases.

Eric Silverstein and his insatiable sex drive.

People who begin any phrase with “No offense, but…,” “No judgment, but….,” “I’m no doctor, but…,” or “I’m no scientist, but….”

The surge of interest in presidential candidates’ religiosity.

Facebook wall posts in lieu of real e-mails.

Itchy Sweaters.  Why are they still made?

Cop cars stationed on highway turns where you can't see them.  

Bookflix

This really should be titled “Netbooks.” But Bookflix sounds cooler.

Pat (aquavator) asked in a recent comment to my blog if I would pay a weekly fee—like Netflix—to subscribe to a service that would deliver books to my door. The short answer: yes. The long answer: no.

The longer version of the short answer is that I like the idea of this service. There are companies out there that do this—Booksfree, Bookswim, and the more recent Paperspine (which, as this article discusses [http://seattlepi.nwsource.com/business/342386_paperspine06.html], is trying to take a hold of the industry by using a supplier that pretty much guarantees that you can get the book you want when it comes out or much later down the road). The cost ranges from $15 (there’s actually a $10 option, but you have to pay for the shipping for each book, which, in a Netflix world, no one is ever going to want to do. You want to feel like you’re getting something free every time you request a movie/book from these services) to $25.

The cost leads me into why my long answer is no. The cost is too much. I read a fair amount—I organize a book club that meets every month and a half, and I read about a book a month casually. In the past year, I read 18 books (and just ordered another from Amazon). I got the vast majority of those books from the library, which, although not completely convenient, is free. I eagerly await the day—probably the last day of his second term—that Bush decides to liquidate all library funds and pump that money into research to train sharks with friggin’ laser beams on their heads to scout the Iraqi coastline for Bin Ladin. Regardless, I spent just under $70 this year on books. The $15/mo Paperspine service would have me pay $180 for that same time period. It’s just not worth it. Also, Paperspine doesn’t seem to offer one of Netflix’s best features: the ability to search for and queue movies/books that have yet to be released. On Netflix, this is huge, as I often read about a movie that sounds pretty cool, but I’m not compelled to spend $8.50 on a ticket. Lest I forget about the film, I go to Netflix and queue it up. This easily equates to books as well—I often hear about a book that just came out for which I don’t want to buy the hardcopy, but I might be interested when the paperback is released (with Paperspine, I guess I wouldn’t have to wait that long). Regardless, Irruminations officially does not support Paperspine or other similar services at their current prices.

Tier 3

Let’s start off today with the Tier 3 grievances, again in no particular order:

Stringent NFL touchdown celebration rules.

The word “irregardless!”

Bad bosses! (four people echoed this sentiment)

People who take the drinks I bring to a party.

People who say “warsh.”

The “Delila” song/any Fergie song.

John “Can’t Find My Own House/Pants/Children/etc” Madden

Dr. Meredith Grey survived 6 episodes without a heartbeat and a body temperature of 86 degrees? Wouldn’t the show be so much better if she had just drowned like any normal person?

Ole’ Crusty Haters.

When my landlord failed to replace the doorknob on my front door for one week…after it had fallen off.

The entire sports community in Massachusetts—could there be a cockier bunch of bastards?

The New England Patriots—It’s not a state, it’s not even a city, it’s a friggin’ geographical region!

That fact that Bear Grylls isn’t naked all the time.

Wearing ties with short-sleeve shirts.

Commentary: I agree with the vast majority of these grievances (not that I need to, or you need to, but I’m just saying…), but I think one of them is mistaken: “People who take the drinks I bring to a party.” Okay. I understand that. People have eclectic tastes, and generally you bring something to a party that you want to drink. However, once you bring something to a party, it’s in the public domain. Your drinks are a contribution to the greater pool of drinks. There is a loophole, though, that Trevor knows well: If you want to drink the alcohol you brought to the party, you have to hide it. Spread it throughout the fridge. The vegetable and cheese drawers are excellent locations for beer bottles. Every fridge has clutter—just hide your drink behind other stuff. And if someone finds it, they’ve won your beer.

The Caroline Vault

This is a new weekly column on my blog, similar to “Ole’ Crusty Sez,” except it’s written by Caroline, who is considerably more attractive and better smelling than Ole’ Crusty. The idea behind this is based in my oft-lamented Disney Vault (see my June 27 entry about this). This column will deal with The Caroline Vault, which basically contains all of the things that Caroline should have told me a long time ago—things that would alert me to some strange, abnormal, offensive, or downright feminine behaviors of mine—but that she chose not to tell me because she had a good laugh about them. She’s like the friend who knows that you have a piece of basil stuck between your front teeth, but she doesn’t tell you until it’s much too late. Thanks to this article, Caroline will finally start revealing these things to me (although, truth be told, she has told me about some things already). Without further adieu, I present to you the first edition of The Caroline Vault (and yes, Caroline actually wrote this).

The Caroline Vault #1: Girl Gloves

So awhile back I noticed that the winter gloves Jamey was wearing looked suspiciously familiar. Tight, blue, with tiny rubber grip dots along the fingers and on the palms. The it dawned on me: I owned those gloves—when I was 12. Also, I’m a girl.

Whenever we get in Jamey’s car when the temperature dips below a frigid 60 degrees, Jamey proudly puts on these gloves with a satisfying elastic snap and merrily drives along. After 3 years of letting him do this, I opened the vault and let him know that there’s something amiss about his winter handwear of choice. (Unsurprisingly, he didn’t make that discovery on his own during that time.) This happened a few days ago. We were driving through Forest Park when I turned to him and said, “You do realize that you’re wearing middle school girl’s gloves, right?”

I don’t think the fact that he has this tidbit of knowledge will deter him from wearing the gloves (those of you who know him will agree). So next time you see Jamey outside in the winter, take a look at his hands.

Classic Seinfeld Quotes

Caroline posted a few great Seinfeld quotes around the condo during the Festivus party. I think they’re worth reading:

“But within the basic framework there are many subtle variations, only discernable to an acute observer, that reflect the many moods, the many shades, the many sides of George Costanza…. This is morning mist.”  --George Costanza

“These pretzels are making me thirsty!”  --Kramer

Tobacco Executive: “I disagree. In fact, I feel Mr. Kramer projects a rugged masculinity.” [Re: Kramer’s excessive smoking.]

Jackie Chiles: “Rugged? The man’s a goblin! He’s only been exposed to smoke for 4 days. By the time this case goes to trial, he’ll be nothing more than a shrunken head.”

Kramer: “Is there a tree?”

Frank: “No, a pole. It requires no decoration. I find tinsel distracting.”

Kramer: “Frank, this new holiday of yours is scratching me right where I itch.”

Serious Topic: Christmas Commercialization

The last post, the one regarding Festivus, scratches me where I itch too. In a recent comment to my blog, Bob (chistl) pointed out that I rarely address “serious” issues on my blog. It’s true. I like to keep it light here. But I’ll try to work one serious issue into my blog every week, just to see how it goes.

Every year, I get a little more disgusted with Christmas commercialism. And yes, I mean Christmas, not Hanukkah or Kwanza or “holiday.” That’s not a holiday tree sitting in your living room. Let’s call this what it is.

I’m Catholic, so I celebrate the birth of Christ once a year. I really truly think that millions and millions of Christians have forgotten that’s why we celebrate Christmas. And whether or not you’re Christian, you’ve got to acknowledge that Christ’s birth (even if you don’t believe in Him, or think He was just a prophet) is the reason Christians traditionally celebrate Christmas on December 25.

Now, I’m not taking a holier-than-thou stance. I enjoy the “holiday season” feel of wreathes and snowflakes and evergreens just as much as anyone else. I enjoy the gift giving and receiving, during which I fully acknowledge that I’m not thinking about Christ—I’m thinking about whether or not I have any pants to match the socks I just got. I think that Jesus would actually enjoy that people all around the world spend Dec. 25 giving gifts to one another.

What irks me, though, are the companies that profit from the Christmas season and the people that buy into it. It’s hard to realize if you’ve bought into it or not. Walk through your home right now. I bet you’ll find some ornaments, maybe some evergreenery, perhaps a porcelain Santa Claus figurine. It feels right to have these things in our homes during this time of year. But walk through a holiday store and try to tell me that your stomach doesn’t turn when instead of seeing one Santa Claus figurine on the shelf, you see thousands. And this isn’t just at the holiday stores. It’s at any store this time of year. These stores aren’t promoting the birth of Christ or the spirit of giving—they’re promoting their own profit margins.

I understand people’s desire to live in a Christmastime world. But that world can exist without us spending money to dress it up.

Tomorrow:

Tier 2

The Lunch Thief

Bookflix

The Other Irruminations

And remember, just two more days to make your guesses about the peanuts!

This week’s blog entries are devoted to Festivus, both the holiday itself and the party I held this past Saturday. Today I’ll hit on the main topics, and I’ll branch out tomorrow and Wednesday.

The Party

First, I want to say that I really appreciate everyone who came out to my fourth annual Festivus party. I know a lot of people had exams and whatnot, but you came anyway, and it made for a great time. I was recovering from a cold and barely had anything to drink, but other people went through a tremendous amount of alcohol, including about 50 jello shots (Caroline claims to have taken down at least half of them). As you can see from the photos below (all of these were taken around 1:30, when the party was dying down), I cleaned the condo while Caroline took pictures of Mark doing what Mark does best—inappropriately touching my cat. Despite only having four flights of stairs to get to his girlfriend’s condo, Mark spent most of the night on my living room floor.

The photos: http://www.kodakgallery.com/Slideshow.jsp?Uc=14347gnh.clmqbh4h&Uy=tcp640&Upost_signin=Slideshow.jsp%3Fmode%3Dfromshare&Ux=0&mode=fromshare&conn_speed=1

The Aluminum Pole

As usual, people were disappointed by my aluminum pole, which is, truth be told, an aluminum lamp adorned in Christmas lights (in strict violation of Festivus tradition, which is anti-commercialization). I agree—I could have gone to this website (http://www.festivuspoles.com/pages/Festivuspoles.htm) and actually bought a Festivus pole, but that too would go against Festivus tradition! So I stuck with the least-expensive and most attractive option.

The Feat of Strength

The Seinfeld Festivus episode ends with George and his father wrestling for their annual feat of strength (you can catch this episode, entitled “The Strike,” on TBS at 8:00 CST this Thursday). I actually had a leg-wrestling feat of strength a few years ago, but I like to change it up every year. This year, Trevor and I came up with the low-maintenance feat of strength that involved throwing unshelled peanuts from one of my balconies to targets on my other balcony. This was considerably harder than it sounds. For one, the balconies are about 20 feet away (you can see this on the last photo at the link above), and the objects were very small—measuring cups and coffee cups and the like. And the wind was blowing. And it was dark and cold and raining. Needless to say, it was a feat just to hit the other balcony, not to mention a target. But it turned out to be a really good feat of strength, one I may consider repeating in the future. There’s a contest at the end of this blog entry regarding these peanuts—a feat of strength part 2, if you will.

The Grievances

Ah, the grievances. One of my favorite parts of Festivus isn’t the party itself, but the next day when I sit down with the sheets of paper that contain the grievances (these were scattered around my living room during the party) and read over them. There was a high level of variety in this year’s grievances—some are quite specific, most are funny, and many are quite true. I’m going to post most of the grievances in this week’s blog. I say “most,” because I’ve divided the grievances into four tiers, and I’m going to post one tier a day for three days this week. That leaves one tier, the final tier, the Top 10.

I’m not going to rank the Top 10 this year. I’ve decided what my Top 10 favorite grievances are, but that’s as far as I’ll go. The winner of the contest will receive the unranked Top 10 list five days before the rest of the world, and he or she will rank them and submit them to me for next week’s Monday entry. Don’t worry, the contest is easy. See below.

The Contest

The winner of the contest will be the person who most accurately guesses—without going over—the number of peanut shells left on my balcony this morning after the Festivus feat of strength. Submit your guess to jamey.stegmaier@gmail.com by this Wednesday evening at 10:00 CST, and I will contact the winner with the unranked Top 10 list later that evening (that person will then have until Sunday to rank them). You have a huge hint to help you—the photo below—but keep in mind that there may be peanuts that were not included in this frame. You may only submit one guess. Good luck!

Tier 4

Keep in mind that these grievances, although in the lowest tier, are still very good. I’ve listed them below in no particular order:

Super-adhesive parking violation stickers.

Any bar that allows smoking.

The HD-DVD/Blu-Ray war—just pick one!

2008 Presidential Campaigning—enough already!

The button-down collared shirt—can’t us guys get more options?

Brett Favre pretending to be the working man’s QB.

Jobs that ignore the cost of the degree required to obtain them.

St. Louis drivers (several people agreed)

Having to stay in New York so that people could yell at my for two days instead of coming to Festivus.

Cock blocks.

Parties with no seating (countered by “people sitting at parties”)

People moving away from St. Louis—we’re hemorrhaging quality people and it needs to stop!

Snakes of all varieties.

Wooden pencils at work. Why?

Tomorrow:

Tier 3

Classic Quotes

Caroline’s Vault

The Lunch Thief

The Tortoise and the Hair

A few days ago, I was pulling on my boxers when I noticed a light hair wavering on my hip. Figuring it to be a loose hair that had settled there, I brushed it away. It didn’t move. I tugged on it, and realized that it was attached to me. This is odd because (a) the hair was over two inches long, and (b) it was perfectly straight, and jutted out from my hip like it was pointing at someone.

I’m sure you’ve all had hairs like these. Hairs that grow to unnatural lengths, hairs that break free from the expectations of all the other hairs and reach for the stars. It always seems like these hairs grow overnight, because surely we’d notice a two-inch hair sticking out from our hip? Right? But this guy got past my radar.

Of course, I plucked the hair and placed it in my display case of rogue hairs. I’ll show it to you at Festivus.

Otherworldly

Above the Chronicles of Narnia, The Lord of the Rings, and even Harry Potter, I’m of the opinion that the His Dark Materials trilogy is the best young adult fantasy series ever (yes, I purposely didn’t include the Dark Tower series, The Earthsea Cycle, or The Wrinkle in Time books in that shortlist…still very good, though). If you’re not familiar with His Dark Materials, you may have heard of The Golden Compass, the film version of which will be released next Friday. However, there were preview screenings across the country the past Saturday.

There’s nothing I like more than a preview screening.

So Caroline and I went to see the movie. I have to say, it was great. Not a perfect movie, but it pulls off the difficult task of whisking you away into another universe for 2 hours. The acting is serviceable, as is the direction, and the CGI is mostly fantastic. The fight scenes and battles are particularly beautiful, and the computer-generated polar bears have a real weight to them, a characteristic missing in other movies. Also, I really love that the main character is smart enough to figure her way out of troublesome situations; only 2 deus ex machina were needed to save her (opposed to the 12,765 that pulled Harry Potter from certain doom). I’m crossing my fingers that the film makes enough money to spurn two sequels; if not, I’ll always have the books.

Next week: I discover a two-foot long pubic hair growing out of my forehead.

Does Money Grow on Plastic Trees?

After my dumpster-crawling experience on Friday, I helped decorate the Center for Christmas. I spent a fair amount of time adorning a large plastic deciduous tree with white bows (it now looks like an overdressed poodle). While I was working on this project, I got to wondering, who designs plastic trees? Who devotes their time and their trade to making artificial plants look real, etching tiny imperfections and irregularities into their pliable surfaces? I’m not insulting the trade…I’m just genuinely wondering who does this job.

To get answers to my questions, I found an artificial plant website, www.earthflora.com, and contacted their design team with the following query. I haven’t heard back from them yet, but when I do, I’ll post the interview here.

Hi. I've always been an avid gardener and a lover of both flora and fauna alike. I'm looking to take my career in a new direction, and I was wondering if I could request an informational interview with one of your artificial plant designers so I can learn how to get into that field.

Thanks for your help, and I look forward to your response.

Sincerely,

Jamey Stegmaier

Biblio-Thru

I had to return a library book the other day. For such a simple task, it took a lot of time. I had to drive into Clayton, park the car, walk up to the building, drop off the book, and then drive back home. I would have much preferred if the librarian came to my house to pick up the book, but I borrowed the book from them, so that seems unfair.

I got to thinking—what could make returning a library book faster? As I drove past fast-food restaurants with drive-thrus, banks with drive-thru tellers, and even a drive-thru Starbucks, the answer hit me: The library needs to serve mocha frappacinos.

Just kidding. You get what I’m saying—libraries should have drive-thrus! You can use them to drop off a book or pick up a reserved item. Perhaps the ease of using a drive-thru would encourage more people to read. It’s so easy to get a McDonald’s hamburger. You don’t even have to leave your car. But would you like a side order of Summa Theologica with that?

If you’ve ever been to North Carolina and seen the drive-thru liquor store chain called Brew-Thru, you know that any store can have a drive-thru. Libraries are merely the next step to a drive-thru world.

Tomorrow:

The Tortoise and the Hair

Otherworldly

Rookie Mistakes

Thirty minutes into the fourth day at my new job as Director of Operations at the Catholic Student Center, I found myself sifting through the contents of a dumpster.

Let me back up. The new job—it’s a newly created position, and my only boss is the extremely busy Father Gary, so I basically have no guidance at all. I basically spent my first four days trying to figure out what to do. Under the surface, there is managing and administering to be done, but nothing immediate. I’m just there as the manager and administer. I’m not there to drastically change anything. And my specific tasks—things like the Center’s finances and development initiatives—are currently managed by two part-time employees who are rarely in the office. So on Thursday, with neither of those employees in the office and Gary off doing who knows what, I decided to organize my office, which was left in complete disarray by the previous occupant.  There were a number of piles of outdated documents that I threw away or recycled.

Then, in a moment of what my lawyer can only describe as “temporary insanity,” I stepped out of the bounds of my office and started throwing other people’s stuff away.

You’d think that I’d be smart enough not to do this. I would like to think the same thing. The only reason I can provide for why I did this is that I was thrown into this new environment and told, in a very abstract way, to clean it up and organize it. However, I know better than to throw away someone else’s stuff, even if it’s quite outdated.

Thus, when my mistake was discovered on Friday morning, I had to find a stack of papers that I had thrown away. I found myself leafing through the big recycling bin and then the dumpster itself, which smells not the least bit holy.

And I didn’t even find the papers.

Moral of the story: Don’t throw away stuff that’s not yours. Even if you’re bored.

Festivus 2007

I’m really excited about the upcoming Festivus celebration this weekend. I’m still searching for the feats of strength, so if you have any ideas, please let me know. The party should be a ton of fun, and I’m looking forward to reading all of the grievances people will get off their backs. Last year’s Top 10 Grievances, complete with an utter lack of decisiveness on my part, is as follows:

10. None of my 2005 grievances made Jamey’s “Top Ten”-list.

9. Your Mom [to which someone else incorrectly grieved, “People who can’t spell “you’re.”]

8. Michael Jordan and Scottie Pippen: For overshadowing Horace Grant during those championship years.

7. The abbreviation “Xmas” for Christmas.  How does “Christ” possibly equal X?!

6. Lil’ Bow Wow dropping the “Lil’”

5. Panty lines! [complete with explanatory illustration]

Top 4 Festivus Grievances of 2006 (Feel free to grieve my indecisiveness, but I equally liked the following four grievances.)

The Lesser Antilles.  Why can’t you be more like the Greater Antilles?

Spinach—Thanks for crapping out on us this year and leaving us with nothing but arugula.

Belly-button lint!

Pluto—not a planet? You let me down!

If you can’t make it to Festivus, feel free to send me your grievances from afar. I’ll put them in contention for this year’s Top 10 list.

Tomorrow:

Does Money Grow on Plastic Trees?

Biblio-Thru