Despite my initial reluctance to spend the evening enjoying the musical stylings of "Oklahoma!" I was genuinely disappointed when we found out the show was canceled. At first I felt guilt, like I had somehow canceled the show with my mind.

Upon realizing I did not possess awesome psychic powers, I felt regret; I had surrendered to the idea that we were going to a musical and was almost looking forward to it, if for no other reason than to say I've actually sat through one. When it comes to watching musicals I usually do something drastic, like change the chanel or throw out the tape.

Aside from the cancellation, Thanksgiving weekend has been uneventful and even relaxing. We've traveled to Jen's place in CT and she did a remarkable job of preparing An Official Thanksgiving Feast, with only a minimum of coaching.

Travel has, thus far, been better than anyone had thought. We hit virtually no traffic on the way South by leaving Thursday morning. Whether our luck holds for the ride back home tomorrow remains to be seen.

One final note; I saw and fully enjoyed The Incredibles today. My apologies to Chris, because I know we were going to see that on Sunday; but I was given the choice of going shopping with my mom and sister or go see a movie with my dad. I love them all equally, but it was really not a tough choice.

Chairman: Alright people, it’s that time again. We’ve got to plan another episode of Fear Factor. Let’s take it from the top. What should our first challenge be?

Board members:
“French kiss a SARS patient!”
“Hopscotch on subway tracks!”
“Stab yourself!”
“Spend time with Doctor Phil!”

Chairman: Good good, I’m glad to see you’re all bringing you’re A-game.

Jimmy the intern: Walk a high wire!

Silence

Chairman: Oh yea, I almost forgot. Everyone, this is our new intern, Jimmy. What Jimmy doesn’t know is that we did “Walk a high wire,” in season one. Season one was for pussies, Jimmy. This season is going to be for real men. Which are you Jimmy?

Jimmy: I’m… a real… man?

Chairman: That’s right, Jimmy. You’re playing with the big boys now. Anyway, “Hopscotch on subway tracks,” let’s run with that one.

Board member: We can set it up on the tracks at the downtown station. Rounds can last anywhere between 5 and 10 minutes, depending on the train schedule.

Chairman: Hmm, good. How many tracks are electrified?

Board member: Um, only one I think.

Chairman: Can we make it two?

Board member: I think so. It may require a portable generator.

Chairman: Do it. What about rats?

Board member: There can be rats

Chairman: I want lots of rats!

Board member: Big rats?

Chairman: Huge rats. Fly them in if you have to. I won’t settle for anything less than two crates of skanky rats. And make sure they haven’t eaten. I want two crates of large, skanky, hungry rats. I want them crawling on the contestants. We’ll cover the contestants with cheese.

Board member: Do rats really go for cheese?

Chairman: Good point. Meat! They’ll wear helmets of rotten meat. The rats will go crazy.

Excellent, now for round 2, or, as we like to call it, “the vomit round.” Give me some ideas.

Board members:
“Drink blood”
“Eat your own foot”
“Cover yourself in poop”
“Cover yourself in tarantulas”
“Cover yourself in tarantula poop”

Chairman: That’s using your head, Earl! Wait, do tarantulas poop?

Board member: They must. All living things poop, right?

Silence fills the room

Chairman: Gentlemen, I consider this to be a professional environment. I expect 110% from all my employees and I reward that kind of performance. Now you’re telling me that of all the people in this room, no one can tell me whether or not tarantulas poop?

Silence

Chairman: Never mind then, we’ll have to put that one on the back burner for now. Let’s backtrack. I heard “Eat your own foot.” How can we make that work?

Board member: It could be a contest to see who could do it fastest.

Chairman: Hmm, not bad, but not enough fear. We need more fear.

Board member: We can cover their feet in maggots.

Chairman: Hmm, you’re getting somewhere, but not quite there. Hit me with some more ideas.

Other board member: After eating their foot they would have to run away from hungry bears.

Earl: Hungry bears covered in maggots!

Chairman: BINGO! Earl, you're on fire today! That’s round two! Now, onto the big stunt. What’s gonna happen in round three?

Board Members:
“Drive a car off a building.”
“Catch a car falling off a building.”
“Take a long walk off a short pier.”
“Run with scissors.”

Jimmy (frustrated by the madness around him): Well, hell. If they’ve survived this long why not just shoot them in the head?

Chairman: Jimmy! You’ve got it! It’s clean and easy, and people will have to overcome the greatest fear of all to do it! Fear of death! You’re going to do well in this business, Jimmy.

Jimmy smiles, despite the feeling that he's surrounded by very dangerous, very crazy people.

For the longest time, I was on the lookout for an oft-mentioned horror movie called The Beyond. No video rental store ever seemed to have it, and the only version I could find in the stores was the Extra Special Super Duper Edition, which cost far too much for a movie I didn’t know if I’d like or not.

As if in answer to my predicament, a bare-bones $9.99 edition was recently released. I decided to pick it up and give it a shot.

Now, I consider myself a horror movie fan, I go out of my way to watch these movies, which normally end up being absolute crap. I’ve seen a lot of bad horror movies in my time, and while this is not the worst, it’s pretty high on the list of movies that aren’t just a waste of money, but a waste of time. I not only demand my $9.99 be returned, I also want those 90 minutes of my life back.

Each part is over-acted or under-acted, leading to slow, dream-like scenes which are only laced with tension if you have any idea what is going on. We, the average viewer, do not. Apparently the overall plot and character stories are none of our business. Allegedly, the gate to hell, located under a hotel, has been accidentally opened (by Joe the Plumber), and dead people are coming back to life. People die gruesome deaths, but no one seems to pay attention to them for the first half of the movie. This in itself is surreal. The bodies are piling up and it’s just business as usual at the hotel. “ Joe’s face was clawed off when he was in the basement. Hmm, must be rats. I’m going to bring him to the morgue then I’ll continue painting the kitchen.”

I’m at a loss for words when it comes to describing the rest. There’s a blind girl who can somehow run down stairs without tripping, a warlock who had the key to hell but was covered in boiling plaster before he could use it, a book about hell that keeps appearing and disappearing, and a six shooter that fires ten bullets.

And what kind of sick fetish does that Fulci guy have with eyeball trauma? I’ve seen two of his movies for a grand total of four kills involving gratuitous eyeball damage, and three of them where in this movie. I never thought I’d say this about a horror movie, but “Stop it, it’s just gross.”

All the effects in the movie like that; uselessly excessive. Every cut, scrape, and bodily fluid is rendered in so much detail that you not only feel like you’re looking at a car crash, but you’re also involved in one. The camera lingers as we watch gallons of fluid pumped out through every natural orifice, and plenty of new ones, during meaningless scenes that stoutly refuse to end. I’m not against this kind of craziness, they did it right in movies like Dead Alive, but damn! Dead Alive was meant to be excessive. This movie is excessive in order to cover up the rotting stench of the writing and acting.

This movie is probably so fondly remembered by some because it is an avid student of, if not the founder of, the school of “If you can’t do it well, do it gratuitously.”

Beyond, you suck. Thumbs down.

Alright, let’s see here, I’ve done 20 minutes on the treadmill and 25 crunches. Well, that’s pretty much the gamut of exercises I know how to do. Let’s take a look at one of these weightlifting contraptions here.

Hmm, Lats, Delts, Pecs… Oooh, Biceps! I wanna work on my biceps.

I sit down on the machine and read the instructions, which begin by telling me I’m sitting on the machine backwards.

OK, now I’m sitting the right way… extend arms, rest elbows on pad, blah blah blah. OK, here we go… UNG! Hmm, too much weight, let’s see… it’s at sixty pounds… how about forty. UHG! Still too much. How about thirty? UNG! Oh come on. How about… hey, it goes from thirty to ten! What the hell? Alright, ten pounds.

I do one rep.

Ha! This isn’t so bad. I can already feel the burn. Woo hoo! Two… three… four… fi… fi… UNG!... four and a half… fi… fiv… five!

I all but let go of the handle bars and it drops back into the start position with a loud clank. I cringe at the sound.

OK, it’s OK. I’m alright, the machine’s not broken, and I doubt anyone heard… um… they’re all looking at me…

Well, great workout session, Jon. Time to hit the showers.

ZOOM

I like getting that "fresh from the dentist" feeling at home; so every night I jab sharp metal objects into my gums.

I know it's just my opinion, but I think "Scrubs" really is the best show on television right now. Tuesdays at 9:30 on NBC. Do yourself a favor and watch it.

For lack of anything better to do, I joined a gym.

It had been a long time coming. To say the least, it’s taken these many years just to get over my passionate hatred of “gym class.” Now that I’ve finally put aside my animosity for volleyball, dodgeball, and running the mile after my lunch period, I think I can now walk into a weight room and not break down crying.

The second reason for the delay is also the same reason that I need to join a gym in the first place. I’m a lazy ass. There’s a conundrum for you.

Exercise has always seemed to be the answer to all my problems; low energy, low self confidence, general depression, getting chicks. The only thing holding me back has been… well… the gym’s way over there.

I weighed myself at home yesterday. I think if any one thing influenced my flight to the gym it was that. I stepped on the scale and, once again, was convinced it was broken. I weighed myself twice, and then proceeded to weigh household objects just to be sure the scale was right. I fully expected the scale to tell me that the gallon of milk I put on it was 30 pounds overweight. Oddly enough, it wasn’t.

It appears that those ten pushups I do every other month aren’t doing the trick. Go figure. I had to think; since I can’t commit to a regular exercise program on my own, how am I going to get in shape? Of course, spend money on it! Knowing I have cash invested in something would certainly spur me to get my money’s worth.

Believe me, if I paid for all the bullets in the gun, you better keep shooting me until it’s empty. You know what I mean?

So I selected a gym, went in, and paid a surprisingly high startup fee, and a surprisingly low monthly fee and I now have access to over 50 exercise machines that I have no idea how to use.

I asked the good looking girl at the front desk if there were any classes for someone… let’s say a friend of mine… who doesn’t know anything at all about reps, target heart rate, or exercise in general. She kindly told me I could sign up, or my friend could sign up (wink wink, nudge nudge, know what I mean?) for an introduction class.

So, when all was said and done, I was a member of a gym. I got a membership card, workout record sheet, and a free t-shirt. When I got home I tried the t-shirt on. It was a great fit. I hadn’t done any exercise, but I was already looking more muscular, more manly, and… wait… are my nipples showing through?

During lunch with one of my co-workers, he inquired how things went on my “hot date,” that I had mentioned the other day. I gave him the honest truth; that I thought it went well, but nonetheless, the girl never returned my e-mails or phone calls.

He said something along the lines of “When you fall off the horse you just gotta get up and try again.”

At the time I simply nodded and said things like, “That’s sound advice.”

In reality I wanted to say

You know what? I already did that, I already got back on the horse. And then the horse threw me off again, so I got again. And he threw me off again, and I got back on again. Now the horse has thrown me off, like, 20 god damned times and now I’m starting to think, “You know what, fuck the horse!”

But I just kept my mouth shut and went on eating my balogna sandwich.