To discuss a Weekend Update, visually speaking, and Feliz Navidad to all

This is going to be another busy week on Wild ARS, and I'm not just saying that to create a false sense of hope (I wait until Christmas for that).
If you read this post yesterday (in order for this week to make sense, un-"mark all as read" and read it. P.S. Thanks), then you should know this week is going to be a "Getting to Know Me" week. I've challenged you to each write a similar post and let me know about it so I can put together something with all the links...If you already said "yes," you're the best thing since slap bracelets.

Later today, I'll have a post that recalls one of my favorite high school stories. It involves hijinx, a car chase and mayhem. No, seriously. Tuesday, Southern Belle has something special for us, as she asks me some intimate questions, which I will blame on the liberal "gotcha" media. I hope she doesn't ask me about Russia or what newspapers I read. Later this week, there's some other good stuff cooking, and I'm not just talking turkey.

All I can say is there will be an "appearance" by a certain famous rapper, and an awards presentation...

On to the Weekend Update. This time, the Update is mostly visual, as Capricorn and I celebrated our faux-holiday, Feliz Navidad 2008, on Friday. Really, it was an excuse to drink margaritas at noon, trim my Christmas tree well before Thanksgiving and eat Mexican food. Jealous?

First, a few mostly context-free things I heard/saw/experienced this weekend:

• New Kids on the Block on the American Music Awards: I appreciated their singing of "Right Stuff." But I still have a hard time listening to them sing about hooking up at a club. Is that before or after they tuck their babies in for the night?
  
• Murder Mystery Dinner: Props to the people at my church for putting on an excellent program- my group solved the mystery, too. Murder mysteries should be done every weekend. I even know some people I'd like to have murdered.
• An empty table: At a busy restaurant on Saturday, Capricorn, myself and two friends stood beside an empty table for 30 minutes. Wouldn't you know it, that's the table they sat us at. Am I missing something here?
• The Office: I'm catching Capricorn up on this show; we're in the midst of Season 2. We just watched the episode when Michael grills his foot. I, too, like the smell of freshly cooked bacon in the morning.

On to the visuals...


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* Update on the Update: I would be remiss if I didn't tell you guys that, along with Feliz Navidad 2008, Capricorn and I also had our two-month anniversary this weekend. It seems like just yesterday I was at PetSmart with her.

To discuss hating Michael Phelps, a boy pimp and the Andy Shaw of the Month

Capricorn and I have been bf/gf for over a week now, which, if we were in middle school, would be, like, so awesome and practically marriage, but, since we're adults, doesn't mean much beyond the fact we've been together longer than Carmen Electra and Dennis Rodman.
In this time period, she's said several witty gems and other things that had me cracking up, most of which she'd kill me for blogging about.
But yesterday, I finally heard some stories that I told her must be shared...
And, because it's that time of the month just like your mother's period before your dad knocked her up with you, I'll be doing my Andy Shaw of the Month entry.
Everything ties together, I promise.
But first:
Capricorn texted me yesterday to tell me I better be on my guard. A guy asked for her number at a restaurant, and he was totally cute.
Except that guy was a seven-year-old boy. Evidently, he got into a conversation with her while they stood in line, and he asked "Can I have your number?" with the same cavalier, no-big-deal attitude you might use to ask for someone's favorite color, their place of employment or, if you're speaking with a Republican VP candidate, their knowledge of any Supreme Court cases- any of them. Like, name one. Nothing?....
Capricorn thought the boy was adorable. I told her she should have given the number to him. The kid's a pimp. I won't playa hate.
Another story:
Capricorn works with a woman who, because of misinformed religious beliefs, gets offended when people tell her "Bless You" after she sneezes. That's classic. Now, Capricorn could go the Seinfeld route and tell the woman "You are SOOO good looking" after a sneeze, but that could get awkward. I'd rather go with an insult, such as "Thanks for the germs, you olfactory blowhard," but that can be a mouthful.

On to today's topic:
Usually, the Andy Shaw of the Month is about another Andy/Andrew Shaw out there who likely is leading a much richer and better life than I am, with the same name.
This month, thanks to Capricorn's parents, we are going a slightly different route: the Andy Shaw Look-A-Like of the Month.
I've been told I look like a lot of people, from Ben Affleck to that redheaded kid in American Pie who lies about banging that girl, to "somebody I know. I can't place my finger on it." The last one is the best. It's basically saying, "You look familiar, like God may have run out of facial ideas by the time he got to you and went with the usual instead. You have no distinct features that will make you stick out. You look like an old friend, a former teacher, a boyfriend or Michael Clark Duncan."

So I'm on the phone with Capricorn. The following exchange took place, using rough paraphrases:
Cap: "So my parents finally decided on you."
Me: "Decided? Wait, what?!?"
Cap: "Yeah, they decided who you look like."
Me: (Now confused) "Um, who?
Cap: "Michael Phelps, except with better teeth."

This soon turned into a 10-minute conversation of Capricorn telling me why she hates the fact that Phelps is famous, thinks swimming is overrated and that she wouldn't mind if Phelps got murdered, only just kidding, only not really, only just kidding. Evidently, she really, really hates swimming, perhaps more than dead babies or starving orphans. Running is OK, though, she said; swimming is silly because pools are meant to cool off, not to swim fast. I made a mental note not to take her swimming ever, for fear of the children soon splashing around in a sea of red.

So here, for your comparison, are photos of myself and Phelps, plus a bonus one of myself and B.J. Novak, who plays Ryan Howard on The Office, another person I'm compared to lately.
Thoughts?

To discuss me being a potential trendsetter, plus a Weekend Update

It seems like I’m apologizing a lot lately on here, as per the previous post. Coincidentally, my apologies began right around the time I started dating Capricorn. I blame it all on her*...
That is, except for Bailey spilling tea on my laptop and causing the keyboard to spit out letters like a veritable word verification spam preventer. A sample of me trying to type:
SFLKNC. CVBMV. WERH?
(Translation: Bailey is an idiot. But he’s still cute. Can I really get mad at him?) Fortunately, I’m still got my work computer, but I can only write on this so much. I love you guys, but I'd rather not try to get fired, unless you can pay my rent (Wait, would you? That would be awesome. I’ll spot you next month, I promise. And by next month, I mean never. And by never, I mean there’s a better chance that the federal government would hand over nearly a trillion dollars to Wall Street moguls who already laid waste to billions of dollars, with no real way to make them pay it back. And by that, I mean that's a reality and we’re screwed. And by that, I mean I wonder if I can ask the federal government to bail me out since I’ve spent just as wrecklessly as Merrill Lynch. Help a brother out, Uncle Sam. You're my uncle. We're family.)

If my laptop doesn’t work again tonight, I’ll likely take two courses of action. One, cry the salty tears of hindsight. Two, bust out my typewriter. What’s that? A typewriter? You bet your ass I own a typewriter. Not one of those antique ones that weigh 50 pounds. An electronic one that has correction tape (which sort of works). The pitter-patter of the keys pounding the paper is a feast for the ears, its black-tongued keys striking white a festival for the eyes.
So, there's a good chance I will write a blog entry on my typewriter and scan it in tomorrow at work. That’s got to be a blogging first, right? I’m practically the Wright Brothers of blogging, sans the incredible handlebar mustaches and museum in my honor. Would you look forward to something like that? You don’t have to tell me. I can hear the heavy breathing now.

Just in case I don’t get to it, the Weekend Update:

Highs:

• Cooking dinner for Capricorn (chicken parmesan with sauteed mushrooms), and having it actually taste good.
• Catching up on the season premieres of Heroes (lots of good plot points developing), How I Met Your Mother (Barney never ceases to amaze me), The New Adventures of Old Christine (Julia Louis Dreyfus may actually be funnier now than on Seinfeld, and that’s saying something) and watching MTV’s The Island, in which Rachel Robinson, the same person I interviewed this week, gets kicked off.
• Winning my fantasy football game this week. I’m 4-0, baby. Capricorn didn’t seem to be as excited, although she's under the mistaken impression that I’m going to give all the winnings at the end of the season to her. Crazy girl.
• Getting an award from Diane, who is full of sunshine and moonbeams in my view. Considering how much I enjoy her blog-- she had a great post about Target recently-- it’s high praise, indeed. I’m going to give out the same award to five people later this week, as per tradition.

Lows:

• Catching up on the season premieres of Big Bang Theory (It was funny, but they are making Sheldon into an increasingly unlikeable and annoying person that nobody likes) and The Office (Yes, it’s still one of my favorites, but here’s the thing. I watched the original three episodes with Capricorn this weekend, and I remembered why I love the show- it was so irreverant and didn’t take itself seriously. Now, it’s almost like the characters are too aware and too involved, and some things felt a little forced. I would like Here Comes Treble to sing at my wedding, however).
  
• Visit to the post office. What a depressing place. Nobody smiles at the post office, perhaps because they all realize that the only reason they are there is because e-mail has failed them. And that they’ll have to pay to send something that would be free online.
• Going to Wal-Mart at midnight on Saturday and winning the Most Teeth title. That's not a stereotype. That quite literally happened. No gum was purchased that night, I am sure of it.
  

* Obviously, I don't. I've been smiling all week like an idiot. She makes me want to handwrite notes, fold them up and pass them to her during study hall...

To discuss a letter to TiVo

Dear TiVo:
Dude, you’re the best.
This week, all because of new girlfriend related time, I have missed the following premieres: Heroes, How I Met Your Mother, Big Bang Theory, Two and a Half Men, House, The Office and 30 Rock.
All of them are resting right now in your digital bosom. And when I go to watch a bunch of them in a marathon viewing tonight by myself, you won’t be resentful that I spent the past nights cuddling in the bosom of another woman. You won’t nag me about how I neglected you all week, even though you put your sexiest TV on and stayed up all night waiting for me.
Sure, we’ve had our rough times. There was the occasional misfire on your half, when you forgot to record a season finale or two and I threatened to go Office Space on you. But you’ve made up for it, by letting me rewind a touchdown play, fast forward through commercials for Oxiclean, or pause when a friend spots gratuitous cleavage unrelated to plot, also known as every episode of "Ghost Whisperer."
So tonight, TiVo, it’s all about you and that fun little “bloop” sound you make as I scroll through your brightly colored options. I know other DVRs will be jealous. But its just you and me, TiVo. I promise I’ll fast forward through Worst Week Ever after Two and a Half Men is through.

Andy

P.S. If you forgot to record The Office I will #%¢#% murder you.

Double Post Script: I'm sorry for making you record Sunset Tan every week. You know I'm addicted to it. Those Olly twins just never learn their lesson. And we all know Nick is going to come out of the closet any day now.