Happy New Year! Last night, I finally watched Seabiscuit (typical underdog sports movie, but still fun) and I caught some of the Twilight Zone marathon. I horrified my nurse by being able to identify an episode within 3-5 seconds of its beginning. But it was the one with Burgess Meredith as the last bibliophile on Earth, my favorite. But I never understood why his character would have such a philistine for a wife. I also saw the one with William Shattner as a freaked-out passenger on a plane. I’m sorry, but the monster in that episode isn’t terribly scary. It looks like a refugee from a plushie convention.
My sister is leaving in a few days for Paris to study abroad for a semester. Any tips on what she should see/do while she is there? My goal is still to go there myself, but I don’t think I have the finances right now. Maybe after I get my first book deal.

Christopher Reeve annoys me. In fact, Christopher Reeve annoys a lot of people with disabilities. This essay critical of him made me laugh. It’s crude but honest and to-the-point. A few years ago, a local nonprofit rehabilitation center paid Reeve an ungodly amount to come to Minneapolis to accept one of its annual awards given to people with disabilities. This move caused quite an uproar within the disability community here because many felt that Reeve spent too much time advocating for increased research funding (more specifically, a cure for spinal cord injuries) rather than advocating for the services and supports that people with disabilities need in their daily lives. It’s safe to assume that Reeve’s philanthropy probably extends no further than his own self-interest. That doesn’t really bother me. What bothers me is that lots of people view him as a spokesman for all things disability-related. There are many people out there who are passionate and eloquent champions of disability rights, but Reeve gets all the attention because he’s an actor. And not even a terribly good one at that. I do hope Reeve finds the cure he’s looking for, but I also wish he’d be a little more honest about his motives and a little more open to dialog with the rest of the disability community.
Have you hidden your almanac yet? I committed mine to memory and then ate it. And someday, after every almanac has been burned, I’ll recount the whole thing to a new generation of knowledge-hungry subversives. It will be just like Fahrenheit 451, except really, really boring.

I will never say anything derogatory about the Arizona Cardinals or their fans ever again. For my beloved Packers to make the playoffs, the Minnesota Vikings had to lose to the Cardinals. An unlikely scenario at best. But somehow, the Cardinals pulled it off in the last seconds of the game. In all my years of watching football, I don’t remember a more unlikely finish. Right now, Vikings fans all across Minnesota are plotting elaborate revenge scenarios against the referees who ruled that the Cardinals receiver was forced out of bounds. The universe is a strange and quirky place.
I just watched Michael Jackson being interviewed on 60 Minutes. My favorite part: when he turned to his nurse/aide/whatever and whined in his best man-bitch tone “What time is it? I’m hurting.” My nurse and I must have laughed our asses off for the next ten minutes. I think that’s how I’ll start speaking to my staff.

Man, I love cheese and crackers. More specifically, I love Ritz crackers with Merkt’s cheese spread, the cheddar kind. Being from Wisconsin, I’m a bit of a cheese snob and I haven’t found a spreadable cheese product that beats Merkt’s for that salty-tangy bite. Anyway, I’ve eaten a lot of cheese and crackers in the past few days. Maybe I’m bulking up for winter, like a bear preparing for hibernation. My cholesterol has probably jumped ten points in the last week alone. Between that and mint-flavored Christmas M&M’s I’ve been munching on, I’m gonna be one fat-ass cripple by year’s end. Think Gimli-the-dwarf fat. Only in a wheelchair. And without a beard.

I finally get to see ROTK tonight. In approximately five hours, I’ll be sitting in a darkened theater, the ventilator struggling to keep up with my quickened breath. But what will I have to look forward to next holiday season? Or, for that matter, next month? Life will seem so empty after tonight!
You gotta feel for the farmer who owns one extremely unlucky cow. His/her business is probably finished. And I’d go easy on the roast beef this holiday season.
Wherever you are, I hope you’re enjoying your preferred holiday and that you’re doing it in the company of others. And if you are alone, I hope it’s only temporary. From all of us at The 19th Floor (well, me, basically), Happy Holidays!