Adam J. Choit

I’m not sure if this is an LA thing, or just something that rich people do, but lately I’ve started to hear about more and more of these types of scenarios.  A celebrity (or any wealthy person) will call over a babysitter to take care of the kids…..while they are home!

In the old days it used to be, “Come on over for a few hours and watch my kids.  Me and my husband are going out to dinner and a movie.”  Now, it’s more like, “Come on over for a few hours, me and my husband will be chillin’ in the other room.”

I’m just not sure how to feel about all this.  I just feel like as a parent (I know everything about parenting btw), if I was in the same place as my young child, I’d constantly be concerned about them, and feel the need check up on them periodically.  On the other hand, if I was out of the house, and the kid is with a babysitter I trust, “out of sight, out of mind” comes into play and one might has well have a good time.

I finally saw Juno last week, and after my viewing, I really felt all the hype and accolades it received were well-deserved.  Some people felt that Juno (Ellen Page) spoke too maturely for her age.  Fair criticism.  I didn’t mind this, and it was more of the specific references she made that I felt were bothersome.  16 year old girls do not typically reference Soupy Sales.  Who gives a fuck about Soupy Sales?

But the film was fun, funny, interesting, and entertaining.  The best parts of the film were the moments where she acted like a real teenager.  When she was most vulnerable and not trying to be all smart and tough were the most moving moments for me.

Throughout the film, I found myself becoming more and more attracted to Ellen Page (dark hair, dark eyes, minimal makeup, pre-pregnant tight body).  I dug it all.  Of course, in film and tv often older actors will portray younger characters for the screen, but Page is/was quite young looking.

Before setting foot into the theater, I knew nothing about this actress.  So once I found out she was 20 (now 21), I felt like that much less of a scumbag.  I win.

Shit, I wish I could remember who I had this conversation with, but it has slipped my mind.  We were discussing the grinding ability of strippers, and the potential challenge of not “wetting” oneself.  Then this dude suggested wearing a condom to avoid any embarrassment.  This just seems strange to me.

First of all, how would this work?  You can’t put it on before entering the club over a flaccid penis.  “Excuse me Ms. Stripper, I’m hard now, I’m going to the bathroom, I’ll be right back.”  Sure.  If I was a stripper and saw some dude reaching into his pants (to put on a condom), I might be freaked out a little.  She might not know what’s going on, and just sees some weirdo sticking his hands down his pants.

Once in a while I will be alone somewhere in public.  It doesn’t really matter if it’s the mall, supermarket, or wherever, occasionally I’ll see somebody who’s sex is ambiguous.  I’ll ask myself, “hmmm, is that a male or a female?”  This is such a frustrating moment because I don’t have a friend to turn to for a second opinion.

I think it’s perfectly fine to then turn to a stranger and ask what they think.  I don’t think it’s rude or offensive at all to do so.  People who toe the line between male and female I’m going to have to assume that they’re aware of the ambiguity that they project.  It’s not that I’m necessarily making fun of the person (although on some level I suppose I am), but it’s really more just a fun game for me to play when I’m waiting on line at the supermarket.

In my room, I have an adjustable weight bench.  Not that I’m lifting hundreds of pounds, but I do like push it once in a while.  The thing is, when I’m flat on my back, doing a standard bench press using dumbells, I have no spotter. 

Once I get going I’m fine, but the biggest issue is actually picking the weights off of the ground, and setting em down.  It’s a weird maneuver, and I’ve tweaked my shoulder here and there because of it.  Now, I do own one milk crate to set one dumbell on in between sets, but have been seeking another.

I recently asked Ralphs (the supermarket) for one (to balance things out), but they refused to help me out.  Fuck them.  Those overpriced fucks.  What pieces of shit.  I give them so much business, and these assholes couldn’t spare me a fucking milk crate that is probably worth 50 cents to them. 

I think the term Internet stalker is used way too freely these days.  At first, I sort of felt a little creepy when I’d meet a person (a girl), and then later that day search for her on Myspace or Facebook.  Google-ing her gave me these same feelings too.

However, none of that is technically stalking in the least bit.  I’m being honest with you here.  I really consider it research.  For example, a lot of times when you apply for a job, it is not uncommon at all for employers to do RESEARCH on a particular candidate before deciding whether or not to hire him/her.  Yes, often part of that research includes glancing at a Myspace profile.

The point is, the real stalkers and creeps are the ones that go beyond the Internet to find out info on people.  They are the real dangerous ones.  Me sitting at my computer typing in somebody’s name and finding out they like Indie rock and Grey’s Anatomy is harmless fun.  It’s those motivated that types that actually leave their home that I’d be most worried about.

I think we’re all aware at this point Ryan Seacrest is everywhere.  I don’t know how the guy does it.  From American Idol to his radio show, from red carpet shit to whatever else he does for E!, this man is like  a superhero.

Let’s face it though.  The man is a little bland.  Perhaps you prefer vanilla, or dull.  I really don’t have anything against the guy.  C’mon, you know he seems like a very nice man, gregarious and charming with his mesmorizing pearly whites.

To continue from where I left off yesterday, I still contend that this supposedly recalled beef is probably perfectly fine to eat (other than being unhealthy fast-food grade meat in general).  Yesterday it was a major story, and today there are no headlines on the Internet at all about this.  Hmm.

I remember several weeks back when the Pats choked in the Superbowl vs. the Giants that they had previously manufactured all sorts of Patriots celebratory t-shirts and accessories before the game was even played. “World Champion New England Patriots” t-shirts were produced. “Perfect Season 19-0” sweatshirts were prepped for sale.

After the Giants won, what should have been done with these clothes?  Well, apparently Patriots victory clothing was donated to the needy.  This warms my heart.  All we have to do now is figure out how not to waste food.  Maybe I’m a little sick, but nothing would give me more pleasure than to see a poor African child wearing a 19-0 Patriots shirt eating some perfectly fine recalled beef.

I woke up this morning to a frightening Yahoo headline about there being a beef recall in the states of California and Washington (not sure what happened to Oregon there).  Anyway, some beef distrbutor was found to be abusing the animals.  Today, I wanted to get combination Chicken and Beef Chow Fun no veggies no onions, but I got scared and backed off.

On the local network news, I caught an image of a cow being dragged half alive in obvious pain against it’s will onto a truck.  Of course it was horrifying, repulsive, and overwhelmingly unjust.  But a recall?  At the very tail end of the report it was mentioned that there have been no reported sicknesses, deaths, or anything like that.

In other words, beating the shit out of a cow doesn’t necessarily affect the actual quality of the beef or it’s taste.  Obviously these are words spoken from a person that often craves red meat.  I can admit I do feel a little bit guilty about even suggesting this recalled beef is a “waste of food.”

A part of me is in denial about the whole beef industry in general, but as long as these companies adhere to whatever our current laws and regulations are, I will enjoy my cheeseburger every single time.

More specifically, the song “Girls Girls Girls.”  Not that I regularly frequent strip clubs, but I’m trying to think of what else makes up the regular stripper soundtrack.  AC/DC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long?”  ZZ Top’s “Legs?”  I just have a lot of sympathy for these poor strippers that have to endure the same songs every night.  I guess I feel bad that they have to take off their clothes for money too.