So the other day I was at my new favorite cafe/office, The Fresh Pot, clacking away on my laptop and enjoying a tasty mug of hot white chocolate, when a man approached me and said, “Can I ask you about your laptop? Is that a new design?”

Now, I had noticed the man before, sitting at an adjacent table and clacking away on his own laptop, the very latest model from Apple. My computer, on the other hand, was an Apple iBook in the classic “clamshell” style, purchased in January 2001 and now fast approaching the end of its life. (Don’t worry, I have a lovely desktop model at home that I use for most of my computing. The laptop is only for when I’m at the office.)

I told the guy, “No, actually, it’s quite old. I bought it five years ago. I don’t think they even make these anymore.” (Subsequent research confirmed that they discontinued the product about six months after I bought mine.)

He was quite taken with the nifty design, though, and I realized my computer is so old, it’s “retro.” Maybe people will start buying these old iBooks in thrift stores and the Salvation Army and carry them around with their “vintage” clothes and ironic old slogan-bearing T-shirts.

In other words, maybe my crappy old laptop is so old, it’s cool again. Hooray for me!

Just wanted to let you know that I’m dying again. I came home Friday night from an evening of frivolity with my friend Rob, and I was feeling just a tickle of a sore throat. I said, “Hmm. I hope I’m not coming down with something.”

Well, coming down with something I most certainly was. It hit me like a ton of crap while I was sleeping Friday night: sore throat, headache, fever, chills, despair, sense of impending doom, freaky dreams you only have when you’re sick, the whole nine yards.

I spent most of the weekend in bed, though I was able to get up now and then to shuffle around the house and perform a few non-labor-intensive tasks like checking my e-mail and watching TV. Today (Monday) I believe I am on the mend, and I have been tended to by my friend Luscious Malone, who brought me some of that magic soup where you just microwave the little can it comes in and sip it, no spoon required.

Do you find that no matter how old you are, or how far away you live, your first instinct when you get sick is to call your mom? Mine is. I usually don’t call, though, because then she’ll just feel sorry for me and worry about me, and who needs that? But if we lived in the same city, I can assure you, I’d be at her house, lying on her couch, making her wait on me hand and foot until I was better.

I thought I had spent my last New Year’s Eve in Provo, Utah, but somehow I was there again this year. And by “somehow” I mean “they paid me.”

Provo is one of many cities to hold a big celebration on New Year’s Eve called First Night. (Why “First Night” when it’s actually the last night of the year? Shouldn’t it be called “First Morning”?) The intersection of Center Street and University Avenue — the exact center of town — is closed off, and so are the streets one block in each direction. A fair-like atmosphere is created, with booths, food, games, and live entertainment. The businesses in that sector offer discounts to First Night revelers.

I was honored to be invited as one of five performers on the mainstage. Before and after me were your customary rock, pop and swing bands — and then there was me, playing the piano and singing funny songs.

The weather was cold and rainy, as you’d expect it to be on New Year’s Eve in Utah, but still there were many families out and about. I was given a very warm reception by the large-ish group of First Nighters who stood in front of the stage to watch me, and it was all around an enjoyable (not to mention lucrative) experience.

Only one thing marred the event for me. Every day that week, Provo’s newspaper, The Daily Herald — where I was a writer from 1996-2003 — ran a full-page ad listing the performers scheduled for First Night. Here is the ad:

You will notice, as I did, that my name is misspelled. In big letters. In a full-page ad. That ran every day for a week. In a newspaper I worked at for seven years.

Here’s to you, Daily Herald! Keep stupiding your way to the top!

Today marks the second anniversary of this blog, a project I began on a whim at the behest of some readers. Blogs were just becoming the rage in those days, and since I was no longer writing a weekly column, it seemed like a good outlet for my thoughts that didn’t fit in movie reviews.

In February 2004, however, I began writing “Snide Remarks” again, publishing it online for subscribers only. I immediately became wary of the blog: Why write something funny and put it in the blog for free when I could save it for “Snide Remarks” and get paid for it? Blog entries became sparse as I was less and less inclined to “waste” my efforts on it. I mean, I only get a few good ideas a month. If they’re all going into the blog, what’s left for the column?

To alleviate this problem, I briefly toyed with making the blog a perk for “Snide Remarks” subscribers, available only to them. With the blog viewed as an extension of the “Snide Remarks” experience, there was no longer a dilemma over where to publish whatever humorous content I managed to come up with. In the blog or in the column, it was now essentially the same thing.

However, the response to this move was so negative that I feared I would be pursued by townspeople bearing torches and pitchforks. I expected the non-subscribers to hate it, of course, and I didn’t really care what they thought. But even some of the subscribers were opposed. Some felt it was presumptuous to think anyone would pay to access a blog. I countered that they were paying for “Snide Remarks” and the blog was simply a freebie that came along with it, and that besides, it’s kinda presumptuous to think anyone would want to read your blog anyway, free or not.

But I got the sense that I had taken the name of “blog” in vain, that a blog, by definition, must be free, open and accessible to all, and viva la blog! I considered changing it from a “blog” to a “web journal,” to see if the name really did make such a difference, but the damage was already done. I made the blog public again and went back to my previous policy of simply never posting in it for fear of squandering my few “Snide Remarks”-worthy good ideas on it.

Eventually, as I settled into a comfortable rhythm with “Snide Remarks,” I was able to easily discern which items should be saved for that feature and which I could put in the blog without stealing from myself. The blog has also been a useful place to post my daily entries from the Sundance Film Festival, to make announcements about upcoming shows, to talk about new TV series, and to publish angry letters and e-mail exchanges with illiterate people.

Sometimes people ask what blogs I read. The answer is that I really only read those written by people I know. I’m sure that many strangers write blogs that would also amuse me, but I’m afraid of finding any more ways of spending time on the Internet than I already have. (It’s why I’ve avoided watching “Commander-in-Chief”: I hear it’s good, and the last thing I need is another TV show to watch.)

Hypocritically, then, here are some blogs of people you don’t know, but who I know, that I find very entertaining. It’s possible that if you don’t know them, you won’t find their writings funny. But maybe you will. Anyway, here are a few of the ones that are updated frequently and have a lot of good general, not-just-for-friends content.

The Jolly Porter, written by my friend Chris (aka Monty, father of notorious “Snide Remarks” characters Miles and Owen). Chris is well-known in some circles for being a master storyteller. And because the gods of comedy respect his talent, they are always seeing to it that things happen to him that will make good stories. Some event will befall him, and we’ll think, “Of course that would happen to Chris. It would be wasted on someone else.” Anyway, he’s also a good writer, and his blog’s archives are full of amusing anecdotes and observations.

The Craig Report, by my friend Ken Craig, known in “Snide Remarks” as Pants. (I don’t know why.) For October, he has shared several spooky stories of things that happened to him. Like Chris, he is great with a story and has several classics in his repertoire. I’ve known Ken longer than anyone else I’m currently friends with, going back to my freshman year at BYU, when he was in the original Garrens Comedy Troupe cast with me. When we get together, we usually talk about movies for a while, and then we remind each other of Garrens stories, like the time we were all at church together and Jason fell asleep and slumped over and looked really funny. (You had to be there.)

Downstage Left comes from California and my friend Emmie, who is such a close friend that I don’t even remember what her last name is now that she’s married. Perhaps I am in denial of the fact. She is a fine actress, and she also writes exceptionally well, as her blog demonstrates.

Hailey Track, by my friend Hailey Smith. Like Emmie, she is a lovely, talented and married actress, and also a fun blog-writer. It is also lots of fun to watch “Lost” and “Alias” with Hailey and Brett over at Lisa’s house on Wednesday nights, especially if you have a box of little chocolate donuts from Wal-Mart on hand. Then I moved to Portland, and “Alias” moved to Thursdays, and now life isn’t the same. So sad.

My birthday, Aug. 26, falls on a Friday this year. A Friday birthday means your big day coincides with new movies being released. A Friday birthday in August usually means the movies being released are bad ones.

August is the dumping-ground month. It’s when they toss out movies that are too dumb to be autumn, Oscar-bait releases, and not entertaining enough to be summer blockbusters (else they’d have released them earlier in the summer).

Some recent August releases include “Coyote Ugly,” “Hollow Man,” “Original Sin,” “Rush Hour 2,” “Captain Corelli’s Mandolin,” “Bubble Boy,” “Ghosts of Mars,” “Summer Catch,” “The Master of Disguise,” “Serving Sara,” “FearDotCom,” “Gigli,” “Uptown Girls,” “My Boss’s Daughter,” “Exorcist: The Beginning,” “Without a Paddle,” “Anacondas: The Hunt for the Blood Orchid,” and “Superbabies: Baby Geniuses 2.” (The last three all came out the same DAY in August, last year. Yeesh.)

There are exceptions, of course. “Bring It On,” “Space Cowboys,” “The Others,” “Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back,” “Signs” and “Freaky Friday” were all August releases in the past few years.

Anyway, back to my point, Aug. 26. This year my birthday movies are:

“The Cave,” in which people go into a very deep cave and are killed by monsters/aliens/something. The quintessential late-August crapfest, by the looks of it.

“The Brothers Grimm,” Terry Gilliam’s latest fairy tale, about two con artists who protect villages from magical creatures that don’t exist — and then are called upon to save the day when some REAL monsters appear. Could go either way; the fact that its release date was pushed back from last fall makes me nervous.

“Undiscovered,” about a group of young performers trying to make it big in L.A. Yawn.

Curious, I looked to see what films were released on my birthday in 1994, which is the last time it fell on a Friday. They include:

“It’s Pat.” Yes, the movie about Pat from “Saturday Night Live.” Surely among the worst movies of the 1990s.

“Natural Born Killers.” Oliver Stone’s controversial anti-violence (or perhaps pro-violence), anti-media (or perhaps pro-media) screed. You love it or you hate it, but it’s at least worth talking about.

“Police Academy: Mission to Moscow.” May heaven help us all.

“Wagons East.” John Candy’s last film. Universally loathed.

Here’s hoping my birthday movies this year are better than the last ones.

A few months ago my friend Luscious Malone and I were visiting our friends Pants and Mrs. Pants at their home in Las Vegas. For some reason, Luscious wanted to know what I would leave everyone in the event of my death. And so my tentative Last Will & Testament was made out, with the following items left to the following people:

Smacky: Satellite and TiVo
Luscious: The Laotion children who work in my sweatshop; the Bic four-color pens that I carry with me at all times
The Clarks: My churchy books, DVDs of “Six Feet Under” and “24″
The Pantses: Tapes of “Simpsons” and “Seinfeld”
My parents: My fake plastic dog Junko, all my credit card debt
My brothers and sisters: ??
The Eric D. Snider Foundation for the Performing Arts: All original works and compositions

It was also noted that the funeral luncheon would include chocolate fudge Pop-Tarts, because Luscious Malone believes that to be my favorite food.

I’ve posted two new articles: “The Best and Worst Movies of 2004″ and “Eric’s Media Inventory: What I Watched and Read in 2004″.

This is the sixth year I’ve done a “Best and Worst Movies” list. I started in 1999, when I hadn’t even written reviews of a lot of the movies that made the list. (To this day, it irks me that I often make reference to “The Sixth Sense” yet cannot include a link to my review when I do, because I didn’t write one.)

The other article, “Eric’s Media Inventory,” is something that may be of only mild interest to people who are not me. It’s simply an account of the movies, plays and TV shows I watched, and the books I read, in 2004. I had never kept such careful track before, and I found it both interesting and rewarding to do so. You see where your time goes; you become more selective about how you spend it; you start managing your time better.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the articles. Further discussion or arguments regarding them are always welcome over on the message board.

Today I learned that if you get a speeding ticket, and when you mail in the check you sign it “Up Yours” instead of your actual name, a few weeks later you’ll get a letter from the court saying they can’t process the check due to an “invalid maker’s signature” and you’ll need to send another check. Good to know.

I voted today. My local polling place is the activities room at a retirement center a block and a half from my apartment. The smell of old people and death permeated the place, but it did not overpower the musky scent of democracy in action.

I think it’s funny that people stand around on busy streets with signs telling you who to vote for. “You know, I was driving to the polling place without a CLUE who I was going to vote for, and now I know! Thank you, random stranger who holds signs. Thank you for pointing the way.”

Whoever wins the election, I just hope he wins by enough that everyone else will shut up about it. George W. Bush was hobbled right out of the starting gate with the 2000 election fiasco, with some people doubting his legitimacy as a leader even before he took office. Even if he’d been a fantastic, brilliant leader, I don’t know if he’d have ever gotten over that initial setback. Of course, if he wins today, then apparently he DID get over that initial setback. Time, and Newsweek, and CNN, and everyone else, will tell.

It’s official: Maroon 5 is now big enough for me to be tired of them.

It’s a shame, because I really like the group. If you’re not familiar, they’re a funky modern-rock/pop band whose album, “Songs About Jane,” recently went platinum. Their songs “Harder to Breathe” and “This Love” have had massive radio airplay — especially the latter, hence my getting tired of them — and the band recently performed on “Saturday Night Live,” postponing a show in Utah in order to do so (not that I blame them).

The reason any of this matters is that the guitarist, James Valentine, is someone I know. His sister is Lisa Valentine Clark, who is one of my best friends. She sings “A Whole New Ward” with me on my CD and was in the Garrens Comedy Troupe for a long time. In “Snide Remarks,” she is known as Claire, notably in the column where I talked about visiting her and her family in England (they’re the ones with a son who acts like he has bees in his head, and the bees are crazy).

So I’ve met James a few times, and he even dated another friend of mine for a while, sort of, though she has subsequently married someone else. (Just as well, really. I think the marriage between a grad student and a Pier 1 employee has a much greater chance of success than the one between a grad student and a rock star.) James is a fun guy, very nice and cool and stuff. Maybe he’ll become a jerk when he becomes a millionaire, but he hasn’t so far.

Anyway, “This Love” is a great song, but man, am I sick of it now. Local station 107.5 The End has taken a particular liking to it, and so every time I tune that station in, I hear that song. Drives me crazy. The End used to be my No. 1 radio station, but now it’s my No. 2, with X96 in the No. 1 spot, even though a lot of X96 material is too hard and heavy for my tastes. I told myself I would move The End back to No. 1 if they could go 24 hours without playing “Dead Man’s Party” by Oingo Boingo, but they are apparently unwilling to meet those terms.

So anyway, congratulations, Maroon 5. You’ve really hit the big-time when you’re ubiquitous enough to be tiresome. A dubious honor, for sure, but an honor nonetheless.