My personal trainer admitted that he probably gave me a harder workout than he should've after I went back to him and described the excruciating pain I was in. So at least I'm aware of what happened and have an explanation, and he knows not to push me too hard. Unfortunately, he also said it would take about two weeks for me to feel better, despite all the Ben-Gay that I've been slathering on -- I now smell like a retirement home thanks to this stuff. I have a greater appreciation now for people with chronic pain, especially those with arthritis or MS or spinal cord injuries. I wonder how these people can withstand the aggravation and discomfort and difficulty with which they do regular tasks on a daily basis. I mean, everything's been affected. I can't answer the phone without pain shooting up and down my arms, or put on my seatbelt, or dress myself, or brush my teeth, or shave, or wash my hair, or eat, or drink... hell, I can't even sleep much anymore because I can't position my arms in such a way that I won't feel pain -- I've been getting about 5 fitful hours of sleep a night because I can't find a position to fall asleep in that's not painful, and then once I finally do fall asleep, I'll eventually move and the pain will wake me up. I mean, it's gotten to the point where I wonder if putting a power drill through my arms would make me feel better. It's remarkable how people deal with this stuff on a daily basis and still manage to live their lives, and it's not even something they did to themselves -- it's something debilitating that they didn't even ask for but have to deal with constantly. We hold bad actors and singers in high regard as celebrities, when these people are the real heroes -- and all they're trying to do is be as active and functional as the rest of us.

Here's an Easter egg for all those of you who haven't seen The Matrix Reloaded yet. When you're watching the infamous car chase scene, pay attention to the callsign they use to address the police and direct them to where Morpheus and Trinity are. You might be surprised to hear the words "Adam 12" somewhere in there... And now, today's FAQ -- Frequently Asked Question. Today's FAQ is brought to you by Fresca, that refreshing lemon-lime soda that you can't find anywhere unless you have your special source for this highly addictive carbonated juice. Daaaaaaamn straight, yo. Q: Keith, why do you say that you only want to date Jewish women? A: It's a bit of a complicated answer. Basically, I'd like to have a good base of commonality to build things on in a relationship. It makes it easier to share experiences, and despite the fact that I don't practice much anymore, I was raised Jewish and it's a part of who I am. So it's in my humor a bit and in my cultural appreciation of things and my opinions as well -- and it works to the relationship's advantage should we both come from that same background and understanding. Also, in case anything ever gets serious, I don't want to suffer the anguish of breaking things off. If I started dating someone and it just naturally got serious, I could see things drifting to that point of either getting married or breaking up, and I'm not one who enjoys the bad emotional issues related to a breakup. And, on top of all that, if we did decide to get married, even if she claimed to be non-religious, I could see my future wife suddenly finding religion after kids were born, and it would kill me if my kids were raised believing in Christ as Lord. I've seen a number of relationships break up over the religion issue, and I've seen a few marriages completely fracture because of it, and I don't want to go down that road. It's safer this way in the long run, despite my relative troubles in finding Jewish women to date. So be it. Coming soon, why Keith firmly believes that UHF was a brilliant film. In the meantime, please enjoy the website of Heeb Magazine: The New Jew Review.

The Meatspace last night was cool -- got to see some people I hadn't seen in a while (and some I'd seen only hours earlier), got to meet some new people, got to enjoy some cool tunes from the excellent Gotham Hall... until the damned DJ came on and started playing some really bad music loudly, to which Yvonne started shaking her groove thang. Pictures at Eve's and Fran's. So, I went for my second session today with my personal trainer. Thanks to the miracle of Ben-Gay, I can once again lift my arms up to my face -- though not easily. I'm still in several metric assloads of pain... and yes, that really is a real unit of measure; the metric assload, that is. On a side note, might I say that while I love Pier 1 Imports, their commercials with Kirstie Alley are almost enough to keep me from shopping there ever again. Once again, it's time for that wonderful feature, the Song O' The Week. Since The Matrix Reloaded has been on my mind, here're the lyrics to the song they play in the first fight sequence. They use the instrumental version in the movie, but the song kicks ass and the lyrics... the lyrics... they're incredible and the imagery is just stunning. So here goes. "Furious Angels" - Rob Dougan Like a sentence to death I've got no options left I've got nothing to show now I'm down on the ground I've got seconds to live And you can't go now 'Cause love, like an invisible bullet, has shot me down And I'm bleeding -- yeah, I'm bleeding And if you go, furious angels will bring you back to me Will bring you back to me... You're a dirty needle You're in my blood and there's no curing me And I want to run Like the blood from a wound to a place you can't see me 'Cause love, like a blow to the head, has left me stunned And I'm reeling - yeah, I'm reeling And if you go, furious angels will bring you back to me You're a cold piece of steel between my ribs and there's no saving me And I can't get up from this wet crimson bed that you made for me That you made for me 'Cause love, like a knife in the back, has cut me down And I'm bleeding -- yeah, I'm bleeding And if you go, angels will run to defend me To defend me 'Cause I can't get up I'm as cold as a stone I can feel the life fade from me I'm down on the ground I've got seconds to live Then what's there that waits for me? 'Cause love, like a sentence of death, has left me stunned And I'm reeling -- yeah, I'm reeling And if you go, furious angels will bring you back to me Will bring you back to me...

I don't usually just post links, and even though this one is untimely since Easter has already passed, I couldn't help myself. Peeps Go to the Library. (Blatantly pilfered from Pop Culture Junk Mail.) Go now, before they get stale or before your co-workers eat them all.

The night was fun. Besides getting to see the three of them again (which is always fun, and we're going to do it again tonight... I wonder if I can have too much exposure to Eve, Wendy & Fran?), we had some interesting experiences. First, we waited on line for over an hour with a bunch of other people -- in an area that has free WiFi access, and some guy there actually had his Powerbook. I was tempted to ask him if we could borrow it for a few minutes so we could blog a quick entry. I'll put my reflections on the movie in the "more" section, that way I won't spoil it for anyone. After the film, we went to Jerry's Famous Deli, where Eve and Wendy were approached by someone apparently in a cult, who asked them to sing "We Are the World." I'm not quite sure how this cult thing works, but apparently, Eve says they keep you out all night and don't let you sleep and they take all your money for these "classes," which is what the guy said he had to do this for. And quite frankly, I didn't know if the others at the table noticed, but this guy reeked... like he hadn't showered in several days. When Eve told us what they do in the cult, Wendy and I both agreed we'd never make it there because after they kept giving us assignments late at night, when we got tired, we'd both say in our best Eric Cartman voices, "Screw you guys, I'm goin' hooooooome." Okay, so The Matrix: Reflections... WARNING: Spoilers ahead. I can't tell if my expectations were too high for this film and that's what ruined it for me. Although Wendy had similar thoughts as I did, so I'm guessing it wasn't just me. I really thought that the first Matrix was mind-shattering. The storyline, the effects, the whole concept of the film... just plain brilliant. This one... not so much. This one had a lot more ephemeral stuff going on that really distracted me from the actual concept of what was going on. Morpheus' speech. That whole sex/dancing scene. The gratuitous fight scenes that weren't necessary. The love drama thing because Locke, Niobe and Morpheus. The annoying kid in Zion who was supposed to make up for the loss of Mouse. The religious overtones that were pounded into your head over and over and over -- yes, Morpheus, we know it's three ships and three captains and surprise! the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost are also the Holy Trinity, and Trinity is standing right next to you. This whole thing with rogue programs running through the Matrix. Neo being able to "feel" the machines while outside the Matrix... or is he? Wendy commented that she didn't like the rug being pulled out from under her as far as the Oracle being a program in the Matrix and the Prophecy not being true. That, I disagree with. That I think was an intricate part of the movie, though it was de-emphasized a lot by the fact that as soon as you're dealt that blow, 100,000 Agent Smiths come running in and you don't have time to digest it. The fact that the Prophecy may be wrong and that this is, in fact, the sixth Matrix, is a good twist to the plotline, though I have problems with the whole deal of the One having to choose 14 people to rebuild humanity -- wouldn't they realize what's going on and educate their younger generations so as not to go through the cycle all over again and again? Plus, here are my two burning questions at the moment: 1. How are the Matrix designers/protectors going to explain the immense amount of damage done by Neo while he was doing his warp-speed run through the city to save Trinity? 2. How can a computer program infect a human mind?

Back after a night of debauchery with Wendy, Fran and Eve, all of whom I will see again in about 14 hours. We went to see The Matrix Reloaded, and I'm sad to say that... [shudder] I was disappointed. More in the morning when I've had a chance to sleep and process the film some more.

Okay, so I had my first session tonight with a personal trainer at the gym. OW OW OW PAIN PAIN PAIN OW PAIN OW PAIN. Let's just say that in order to take my glasses off so I could get in the shower, I had to lower my head to my hands because I couldn't even raise my arms up to my head. This poses a significant problem given the fact that when I sleep, I sleep with an arm straight up under the pillow with my head resting on it. How the hell am I supposed to sleep tonight if I can't put my arms up at all? And how the hell am I supposed to be able to reach up to hold onto the steering wheel to drive myself to work tomorrow? (And before you ask, I've got my laptop in my lap so my arms are just resting at my sides on the keyboard.) I'm going to watch some TV before I crawl into bed and pray for a merciful death... because if I don't die, I have to go back to the gym and do it again on Sunday afternoon. And the worst part of it all is that I paid to have this done to me.

I can't tell if people have just been ruder recently, or if I'm more sensitive to it, or I'm being edgy and reacting more harshly to people than I ought to be. But there are just some days -- like today -- when I really wish my car was equipped with TOW-2 anti-tank missiles to take out the dumbasses on the road and that I carried a Taser to just shock the hell out of people when they're being rude.

That gawdawful pina colada song by Rupert Holmes is stuck in my head. I don't know why. I haven't even heard it recently, and by recently, I mean in weeks if not months. I have two theories on this: 1. Some mad scientist (or a scientist working on a government project) has kidnapped a select few of us for an experiment in psychological warfare, and he's implanted a small device in our heads that -- every so often -- starts playing old and annoying songs over and over and over in an attempt to see if we can withstand the mental attack or if it'll make us go crazy. 2. Rupert Holmes is a transvestite Scientologist alien, and he's sold his soul to the devil for immortality via his song about fruity alcoholic beverages. And yes, I know that by talking about it here, I will now infect all of your brains with that gawdawful song and you'll not be able to get it out of your heads. Since TV writers seem to be lacking in ideas and aren't able to write scripts that aren't based on events that happened in real life, I figure I'll borrow a page from a popular recent film (which you'll recognize if you've seen the film) in an attempt to free my own mind. Don't be hatin', just pass along the coladaness to someone else...

So, that group I auditioned for a little while back? They'd like me to come back to sing with them again for callbacks. (That's when they decide who they really want to join the group.) That's good. They want me to learn the words to Warrant's "Cherry Pie," since I guess the guy I'd be replacing sang the lead on that song. The fact that the lead singer of Warrant sang with that gawdawful hair band high-pitched voice that may be out of my range notwithstanding... it's Warrant. Warrant, I tells ya. And I still haven't found anyone dumb -- I mean devoted -- enough to go see The Matrix Reloaded with me tomorrow night at the 10pm preview.

In light of the recent suits against companies like McDonald's and Burger King (and one filed recently against Kraft Foods because Oreos apparently are bad for you and are marketed towards children), I think it's time to hop on the bandwagon and get a piece of this passing-the-buck action. Suit #191-864-32D filed in Los Angeles Superior Court: Keith vs. God Whereas Keith believes it to be beyond his control that he is not able to digest fatty and caloric foods as well as those he has seen, such as his college roommate who ate cheeseburgers daily and who was so skinny you could count his ribs, Keith feels it to be within his rights to sue his Creator, who made Keith in such a way that he can gain five pounds just from being within 10 feet of food containing an excessive amount of fat or calories, and he must work exceptionally hard to lose any weight he gains from eating said foods. Whereas Keith feels that he is not as good-looking as some of these guys he sees on the street, on TV and in the movies, Keith feels that he is owed certain dispensations from his Creator, who made him not as attractive as these vastly-admired hunks o' burnin' loooooove. He may not be Ben Affleck or Paul Walker or Keanu Reeves, but he should be able to look as good as them. If it should be so proven that Keith does not believe in God, Keith reserves the right to redirect his suit to focus on the U.S. Government, who did not allow Keith's parents to selectively manipulate his genes in order to make him turn out as skinny and muscular and good-looking as he ought to be. Keith urges God and/or the Government to respond; otherwise, he will see them in court. He gettin' Johnnie Cochran, too. Ain't nobody who can beat Johnnie Cochran.

What I Did This Weekend by Keith - I drove 1,500 miles. - I got a healthy reminder as to why my parents are more than 500 miles away. - I finally tried P.F. Chang's. I don't see what the fuss is about. - I saw a lot of old military planes. My dad thought it was great. - I finally got some information that I could use to rub the noses of all those high-and-mighty late-night TV watchers in dirt. Check this out: Cartoon Network's "Adult Swim" lineup, anchored by Futurama and Family Guy, is pulling in more viewers and is beating Letterman, Leno, Kilborn, Jimmy Kimmel and The Biggest Tool In Entertainment (Carson Daly) in its target demo. Isn't FOX kicking itself for dumping these shows? - I saw X2. It was a good distraction, but I'm still holding my breath for The Matrix Reloaded. - I learned there is nothing quite as beautiful as the cover of the June 2003 issue of Esquire. Carrie-Anne Moss. Mmmm... - I re-learned that there are some really stupid and rude drivers out there. If you're in the left lane of a two-lane highway, you're doing 10 miles below the speed limit on a flat road and you're pacing a tractor-trailer, making it impossible to pass, I'm going to flash my highbeams at you after a few minutes. Don't give me the finger when I pass you -- you deserved it, you loser.

Riddle me this: 1. Wal-Mart has banned FHM, Maxim and Stuff magazines from its shelves based on their "racy" content, but continues to carry Cosmopolitan and Glamour. A quick look at this month's Cosmo reveals it to contain stories like "Naked Chefs: Hot Nude Men Who Can Cook," "Our Sexiest Bed Game: Play it with your guy tonight; he'll think he died and went to pleasure heaven" and "75 Sex Secrets of Couples Who Don't Know the Meaning of Ho-Hum." Umm... 'scuse much, double standard or something? If Wal-Mart is going to force its conservative Christian ethics on the country, it should do so across all gender lines, not just the men. Not that I condone forcing conservative Christian ethics on anyone, I'm just sayin'. 2. Two studies have found dangerously high levels of perchlorate in lettuce grown in California. Perchlorate, which is used in the manufacturing of rocket fuel, flares and munitions, has apparently gotten into the local water table and the Colorado River from area defense factories, and high enough levels can cause problems in developing fetuses. Now, here's the kicker: Read down to the bottom of that article, and you'll see a short paragraph about how the Bush administration has put before Congress a bill exempting the military and defense contractors from cleaning up their own toxic waste because it would "hinder military readiness." Now, let me take a moment to get this straight... our government wants to run off to other countries to defend our way of life, but they don't care about us back here on American soil eating food contaminated by waste created by these weapons used to defend us. And you're asking me to say our Fearless Leader is smart?

Takin' a break... leaving town for a few days. Driving out to Tucson after work tomorrow to spend a couple of days with the parental units. I'm bringing my laptop though...

It is 5am... and you are listening to Los Angeles. -- "Screenwriter's Blues," Soul Coughing I remember when Los Angeles seemed like a distant fantasyland... a place only existing on television and in movies. A shining jewel, where you drive into town and magical things happen. Beautiful people are everywhere. Major deals are conceived over breakfast and signed over lunch. Crossing the county line makes you entitled to a $40,000+ car. Just going to a club could get you "spotted" and a major career would ensue. The young determined writer from Peoria will get his script bought for millions of dollars and the beautiful naive actress from Duluth will finally get her starring role if they're just willing to hold on long enough until the required climactic moment occurs. Every day is a gorgeous day where everyone is invited to go down to Venice Beach and rollerblade and surf, and everyone there is good-looking and wearing next to nothing. They never show the other 80% of things. They never show the people bagging groceries and stocking shelves in the 24-hour supermarkets. They never tell you that if you want your kids to get a decent education in a safe place, you need to send them to private K-12 schools costing just as much annually as colleges do. They never show you the parts of Hollywood Boulevard where the buildings are rundown and the hookers really do walk -- and they're not as glamorous as the movies make them out to be -- where you're just as likely to get propositioned by a whore as a drug dealer or an addict looking for a hit... or your wallet. They never tell you that within 5 miles of you at any time are at least 5,000 waiters and waitresses, secretaries, personal assistants, Starbucks baristas and temp-job-fillers, because hardly anyone gets their starring role or their script bought and the market is flooded with talent to the point of extreme overcrowding and your chances of being "discovered" are worse than winning the lottery on the same day you get hit by lightning. They never tell you that the employment market is fickle, and there really are people who are vindictive enough to make good on the threat that you'll never work in this town again. They never tell you that Swimming With Sharks was real and that most people "in the industry" will scream and yell at you and belittle you and make you their personal slaves because they can, and because they can dangle that golden opportunity in front of you... but you'll never know if or when it'll ever come to pass. They never show the beat-up rusting 1983 Datsun pickups and Toyota Tercels. They never show you the lines of homeless people sleeping on the pier in Santa Monica. Welcome to Los Angeles... is it a diamond, or is it cubic zirconia? You'll have to come here to find out.