From the Internet that Brought You Kaptain Kvetch

Advertisements for the new movie The Town boast that the film is "From the studio that brought you The Departed."

Really, Hollywood?

I mean, I know you think Americans are brainless idiots. Why shouldn't you, after the box office numbers for Transformers 2? But do you really think for one second that anyone will go see a movie based on it being made by the same studio as another movie?

That's like saying you think we'll watch Mike & Molly because the same network put Cheers on the air 20 years ago. Or that we'll eat lasagna because it's from the same country that brought you spaghetti bolognese.

Actually, Italy does have a pretty good culinary track record. That's a poor example. But you see my point: you can't cast too wide a net when it comes to taking credit. Black people shouldn't say "From the race that brought you LeBron," plants shouldn't claim "From the flora that brought you roses," and Earth shouldn't boast "From the planet that brought you air."

Give your audience a shtickle credit to understand that just because you sell M&M's doesn't make you Willy Wonka.

It's Getting Old

I find it annoying that we, as a society, find it inappropriate to ask a woman her age.

What kind of insecurity is that? It's going to come out eventually, isn't it? What difference does it make if it's within the first five minutes of meeting someone, or on your seventh date? Do you really think you're going to keep up this ageless facade forever?

Look, I'm a stats guy. I value information. When I watch baseball, I like to know how many RBIs the batter has. And when I meet someone, it's not long before I start wondering how old they are. To have to censor myself from asking, then go through the whole song and dance of guessing (with the obligatory lowball) before finally getting to the truth is just a silly timesuck.

When you stop and pet a complete stranger's dog on the street, you immediately ask three questions: what's his or her name, what kind of dog is it, and how old is he or she. Don't tell me we're all more interested in the ages of the dogs we meet than the people.

Time waits for no man. That being said, since men don't generally get offended when asked their age, let me make it clear that the same axiom also applies to women. We're all getting older. If you're really that uncomfortable fessing up to your age, then just lie.

Sorry, We're Gonna Have to Do This Kvetch Next Thursday

It must be unofficial Los Angeles dogma that whatever you schedule with somebody must then be rescheduled. Multiple times, in many cases. Drinks with friends, dates, business meetings, religious holidays - it doesn't really matter. If you make arrangements to see another human being on any given day in any given capacity, you can usually figure on being home watching TV at that time, because you're going to be rescheduled.

This week alone, I've had separate friends cancel plans on consecutive nights because they had to "work late." I had a meeting set for Friday, then rescheduled for Wednesday, then asked to be rescheduled for two weeks from Tuesday. When I asked if there was a time we could possibly do it sooner, they asked about doing it two weeks from Thursday.

Maybe it's me. Maybe I should lower my expectations of people. Or maybe I just need to switch deodorants.

KFC: Epilogue

I couldn't resist. After passing by the art-deco KFC twice a week for the past month, I finally had to stop and check it out. The fact that I had a hankering for some delicious chicken only made it all the more impossible to pass up.

So here's the upstairs from the interior, as well as me and the Colonel. The two of us, along with the sad Asian woman in the foreground, made three people in the entire restaurant (two real). Where have all the architectural enthusiasts gone?

PS - The potato wedges were especially crispy today.