Musings of the Mammoth

My hairbrained scheme

2009-07-10T14:10:00.006-04:00

In Alaska we frequently encountered paticipants in the Iditarod, amateur mushers, or others associated with the sport (it is the official state sport afterall). Having two Saint Bernards holding the floor down at home, I couldn't help but wonder how well they'd do in the race. Sure it's 1000+ miles and rather cold (-60 and frequent blizzards), but Saints were built for alpine conditions, and what's a 1000+ miles?

Saints were bred to rescue people in the alps, and one Saint, Barry, was reported to rescue over 2000 people trapped in blizzards, buirried by avolanches, or otherwise fucked over my mother nature. Having two Saints at home who are at home on the coldest of snow (-12 this year) validates the whole built for the cold aspect, but ours don't seem to be able to rescue too much before wanting to take a break (perhaps they're unionized Saints). Supposedly a Saint can pull as much as 2900KG, so maybe a few could pull a bunch more who are resting and then take turns?

Let's say I have some underachievers who can "only" pull 2500KG (over 5,500 pounds), that means a 200lb dog (a big Saint), could pull 27+ of his pals! Since this isn't easy to do for distances let's lighten the load and give him 10 buddies to pull, so he's only working about 9% of the time. To break the monotony, give him nine buddies, so 10 Saints pull another 100 and a musher (on a big ass sled). Wouldn't that be more impressive than a bunch of gnarly huskies? It would be like the Budweiser Clydesdales of the north. Maybe we could get a sponsorship gig?

Sure we'd need huge mounds of food for the 110 dogs, and there would be a bunch of big piles of shit everywhere, but imagine the possiblities. That beer deal would be the tip of the iceberg. Books, movies, video games, etc... It would be like Beethoven meets Snow Dogs meets Cool Runnings!

I got tired of copying and pasting sleeping dogs, but you get the point

Planes, trains, and boats

2009-07-07T11:31:00.020-04:00

In the past weeks, Liz and I flew on 6 planes, strolled through 7 airports, rode 4 trains, cruised on 3 boats, and rode on countless buses. We stayed in 3 lodges, visited 3 ports, traversed numerous biomes, and wandered through 2 Canadian provinces and one big ass state.

And this doesn't even sum up our journey!

Alaska was our primary destination, and we started off with two days in Fairbanks at the Princess Lodge (we booked our tour through Princess). There we embarked to excursions on the Riverboat Discovery III and the El Dorado Mine (both tourist traps, complete with gift shops everywhere--including the boat). The boat ride was particularly fun (we even saw a genuine red nosed reindeer!), and we really loved the folks in Fairbanks.

Next we boarded the Alaska Railroad (special 2-story panoramic cars for us) and headed down to "Glitter Gulch", the gateway to the Denali National Park. We stayed in another Princess Lodge, this one looking more the part, but also featuring that motel charm. There we sampled the hot tubs, enjoyed great food, and waited out the somewhat dreary weather. That afternoon of overcast skies gave way to a gorgeous morning, which was a fortuitous start to a wonderful day (ignoring the 75 minute late start). Denali is the name of the park and the mountain (well some debate the mountain's name), but most see more of the former and less of the latter. Denali being such a huge snowball of a mountain creates its own weather and usually is veiled in clouds, but our first glimpse of the mountain was nearly complete, with just a hint of a cloud. This was 12 miles or so into our 60 mile (120 roundtrip) journey. Before that glimpse, we saw moose, and shortly thereafter we saw Grizzly Bears, caribou, marmots, and a fox. Later still we saw squirrels, more caribou, more bears, and Dall Sheep. All along our journey, we were surrounded by beautiful vistas, clear skies, and lots of biodiversity.

By now we'd already gotten to know the larger than life nature of Alaska, Alaskans, and their heroes. It seems everyone had climbed Denali, raced the Iditarod, or both! Even the kids joined in, as they're expected to do recess outside until it's colder than -20f! Imagine being hit by a dodgeball at -20! School stays open no matter the weather, but parents can keep their kids at home at -50f. In Alaska, Paul Bunyon would be a smurf.

All of this and we were only 1/3 of the way through our trip! Another rail encounter delivered us to another lodge, the Mt. McKinley Princess Lodge. We ate more great food, wandered through a swarm of mosquitos, and stared at the clouds wondering which one the mountain was hiding behind. We also drove by Wal-Mikes in Trapper Creek (think Wal-Mart meets Sanford and Son with an Alaskan flair) and saw another moose. Before long it was another time for train ride, this time all the way to the boat, but we caught a last glimpse of the mountain before our next trek.

This was our longest trip by rail, including some of the best views. We traveled along side some beautiful views of rivers, mountains, and swamps. We saw more Dall Sheep, quite a few out houses, and even Wasilla. We ended up our journey with a one lane/one rail tunnel to Whittier. Cars and trains take turns going through the 2.5 mile tunnel, and the two directions of traffic must wait as well--only in Alaska! Once we exited our tunnel, the big boat came in sight.

We've never cruised before, and I'm pretty sure Liz hasn't been on too many boats of any kind. After our cattle call boarding procedure we were introduced to Purell and lots of it. It seems you can't do anything on the boat without sanitizing before, after, or most likely both. Before long we found our room, met our steward, and tried on our life vests. Then we started exploring the ship. Our boat, the Diamond Princess, is a newer vessel, and a biggish (too big for the Panama Canal) one at that. Despite all this size it really seamed you couldn't go anywhere without either traversing the casino or the art gallery. Later we discovered you could also go anywhere you wanted if you were willing to wander across the pool laden deck, which was the preferred route, as it also housed the pizza, ice cream, buffet, and chocolate buffet.

We soon settled in, and the next two days were relaxing journeys through fjords gazing at glaciers and keeping an eye out for wildlife. I half expected to see whales and eagles, but certainly not as abundant as we saw. We also saw seals and porpoises. We even found the rare seagull that found the sea (as opposed to some Wal-Mart parking lot in Ohio or a landfill). As impressive as the sights were, the sounds were also noteworthy, especially the sounds of glaciers calving and crashing into the sea. In between the natural sights and sounds, we strolled into the casino, learned our lesson, and eat away our disappointment in one of the many four course (or more) meals.

The following days saw us arrive at Skagway, Juneau, and Ketchikan (all down south and far removed from the tundra we saw before). We previously arranged for activities in Juneau and Ketchikan, but Skagway was pretty much unplanned. We wandered through town, became bored of all of the jewelry stores (no matter how much the Princess infomercials hype the diamond deals, you're still in the US!), and wandered into a tour operator looking for adventure. We signed up for and got a Yukon Adventure. While Princess offered tours that go just enough into Canada to bring about the annoyance of passports and shit, they don't really go anywhere besides the edge of British Columbia (which isn't at all like Colombia btw). Notions of heading to the Yukon somehow seemed more entertaining, and the price was right.

After all the excitement of Skagway and our 100 mile trek into the Yukon, Juneau was a bit more subdued. Juneau, the capital (almost as big as Rhode Island and Delaware--combined!), is a small town (all that area and like 25,000 people), and it was a small town overrun by 7 big ass boats. Sadly it was foggy, so we didn't get to see much besides tourists, but we hear it can be pretty. We did get to see a one-eyed eagle, listen to Christian music, and almost give into the sight of a McDonalds and smell of Subway. Ketchikan was almost as uneventful, but the Coastal Wilderness Tour we booked brought us eagles, seals, and bears.

Soon time had flown so fast that it was all over, and we began to pack our bags, eat our last meals, and begin planning our next adventure. Many many more pics can be found here.

Liz and Shane's Christmas Adventure

2009-01-12T08:20:00.017-05:00

Somewhere between trend and tradition lies our habit of celebrating Christmas with our families on alternating years. Christmas 2006 saw my parents (and much to their disappointment their mild Florida weather) visit us in Columbus; in 2007 Liz and I make the trek to Sacramento; and now this Christmas past, Liz and I flew down to Jacksonville to spend Christmas (and Kwanzaa) with my parents. Much to my mom's disappointment, it was even warmer than usual (mid 70s, so no cranking up the AC just to be able to light a fire). It was however, a very nice experience, as we hadn't had the chance to see my folks since our wedding.

I won't bore you with flight details this time, and Christmas itself was pleasant, but not blog worthy, so we'll just start from 26th, the first day of Kwanzaa. We headed off to Anastasia state park, where we wandered on the beach, taking in the salt air, scouring for shells, and taking snap shots of the scenery (where else does one find pickup trucks and pirate ships?). We continued on to Vilano Beach for more of the same. We began our seafood smorgasborg (like grizly bears we load up for a week and have to make do for months--due to Ohio's shitty seafood selection--without) in the afternoon, and for dinner we chowed down on 2lbs and 3.5lbs of crab legs respectively.

A couple days later we began our central Floirda sojourn by heading down to Kennedy Space Center. Most Floridians are ambivelent to the space center, but I always enjoyed it (despite to too numerous field trips there), and Liz has never had the chance to go. Fortuitously we thought enough to plan ahead (a day ahead) and reserve our tour, which in case the fortuitously comment didn't imply that they were sold out when we got there, lets just say they were. Beyond that the place was fuckin packed, but we managed to make the most of it all. I even surprised some Aussie tourists by squeezing in a Mercury space capsule, maybe Shaq has a chance to star in the remake of the Right Stuff. After that we went on our tour with the overly passionate tour guide. Dude really cared about his shit, and nothing quite riled him up like the differences between Kennedy Space Center and Cape Canaveral.

We then proceeded to cruise on over to Orlando, where we had one of the worst hotel experiences at the Rosen Shingle Creek Resort. Beyond being snooty, snobby, and pretentious, they were rude, inconsiderate, and downright dirty (FYI, I wouldn't recommend it to others). That being said, we went to Orlando for Disney, and the hotel realy didn't matter. In an attempt to get away from our "resort", we headed to Downtown Disney. A friend of mine warned me that the week between Christmas and New Years is the most crowded week at Disney, and she wasn't kidding (Kwanzaa must be gaining in popularity). The parking lots at Downtown Disney were full--all of them! We managed to cut through some cones and luck into finding a departing car. Somehow it never seems as crowded within the friendly confines of your (even if just a loaner or rental) car, and it was almost overwealming on foot. Having spent the better part of a week in the Downtown Disney area, we knew our way around, and we managed to make the most of it, even if it meant being a couple minutes late with the Magic Kingdom fireworks (as seen from the Polynesian's beach).

After dealing with the huddled masses the night before, it was no surprise that the parks were packed the next day. We started off by parking at the Magic Kingdom, and hopping on the bus to the Animal Kingdom (the Magic Kingdom was open to 2am and the Animal Kingdom closed at 8pm), and after catching a fast pass for Expedition Everest, we hiked to the safari ride. There we enjoyed our first stay in line. After that we headed over to the Bugs Life 3d movie thing, which was fun, and afterwards we took on Epedition Everest, which ended our time at the Animal Kingdom (we had seen almost everything in our previous visit--we'll do Nemo next time Liz!). Craving Norwegian food, we hopped on a bus and headed for EPCOT.

Since we were planning on returning to the Magic Kingdom to close off our day and squeeze in the Hollywood Studios (no longer MGM) for Fantasmic and the christmas lights, we were essentially deciding to do all four parks on a day where it was so crowded at the Magic Kingdom and EPCOT that they stopped allowing more new guests in. What the hell, we're young and crazy, so why not! Once we got to EPCOT, we wandered over to Norway, where there was a bit of a queue of people with reservations (many books 6 months prior), so we were gonna have to dine standby. Unlike other Disney restaurants, Norway (a princess dining experience), seats in waves, and just about everyone has a reservation. Stanby guests can get in when someone doesn't show up, and after a 40 minute wait, we got in. We followed the line through, and got our picture taken with Belle, and then we were able to finally eat lunch. As we ate many princesses (and non princesses, as Alice from Alice in Wonderland crashed the party) stopped by for photos and such, but somehow I still missed the old Norway experience: empty restaurant, buffet laden with stews, reindeer, and odd bits of pickled and smoked fish. Oh well, the kids enjoyed themselves, and I was able to chow on salmon--a true win win. After lunch, we went on the revised Spaceship Earth, and then headed over to the Hollywood Studios.

We had two goals in mind for our trip the the Hollywood Studios: Fantasmic and the Christmas lights, but alas we needed to wait for night for both. We ended up getting in line for Fantasmic about an hour and a half before the show, but at least we were able to sit for most of it. While waiting, the crowd started busting out waves, fast waves, slow waves, and other nonsense. The show was delayed for a bit, and we got even more waves--wahoo! Eventually the show went on, and afterwards we saw the Christmas lights. Had we not been supremely underwealmed with the light show at the Columbus Zoo's Wild Lights, I may have expected more. There were lights--lots of them. Thats it. We then headed to the Magic Kingdom, by way of the Polynesian. We barely missed the last train at the Magic Kingdom, so we had to brave the hoard of people waiting for the fireworks just to get to our intended destination, and before we got there we got to watch the fireworks. Afterward we enjoyed fries, a sundae, and a trip to Pirates of the Caribbean. Before long we were starting to get puckered out, so we made our way to the exit. The damn parade was going on, but they waived people through to cross the parade during a break in the action. Liz and I started across, I was waved forward, but she was held back, we were together holding hands, but so much for Disney family values. Desperately wanting to leave, we pleaded, were waved on, before I was clubbed, ney clotheslined by some Disney employee asshole, who felt that we somehow were going to endanger the dude in the wolf suit twenty feet away--there wasn't even a vehicle coming! Could he have quickly escourted us across, yup. Could he have not waived us through a second before, yup. Could he have told us to hurry, yup. He'd rather clothesline me, and no he didn't even apologize. I guess the show must go on. Don't think I'll forget that one Disney.

All in all it was a blast, and we were able to sneak in a trip to a fish camp (hard to explain, but I've only seen such things in Florida). I managed to eat bacon every day there, and we returned home to our wonderful furry family. Who could ask for more?

Unmet Expectations

2008-11-25T11:50:00.004-05:00

I've discoved that I expect too much from this world, and I'm slowly coming to terms with that sad reality. When I drive in a car with "automatic climate control", I expect it to know you're appoaching a dead polecat (skunk; not some stripper cat) and put the AC on recirculate. I also expect to be able to fast forward a DVR to points well into the future (I keep trying just to see if they slip that feature in). Isn't a 8:00pm football game on the East coast aired at 5:00pm on the west coast? Can't we keep going around the world so that I can finish March Madness in say February, with enough time to procrastinate and still get the winning picks to my bookie?

It should come to no surprise that my latest disappointment was so ... well disappointing. The culprit, Chocolate Lucky Charms. You see Lucky Charms was always a favorite of mine as a kid (it's why I grew so tall--kinda ironic since the leprechaun stays so small), and the notion of replacing those bland oaty bits with something like Cocoa Puffs or Cocoa Pebbles, well that's a match made in heaven--sorta a Count Chocula with all the magical Irishness of Lucky Charms. So why is it my hell?

The chocolate bits aren't chocolatey, rather they're just brown. Brown in color, but worse yet, brown in taste. You see when I close my eyes and think of the color red, I can taste Hawaiian Punch (Fruit Juicy Red), and when I do the same with orange, I taste McDonalds Orange drink. With brown, well I picture shit and a taste those oddly shiny crap nuggets that someone must have randsomed a leprechaun into putting in the box (better than giving up the pot of gold I suppose).

NIN

2008-11-18T08:56:00.006-05:00

The opening act started off with a gong; it might as well ended with it. Few opening acts ever really entertain me, maybe one or two more are memorable, and whoever they were last night, well they've been forgotten already. I must be getting old, as I appreciate shows that start as early as a school talant show (especially if there's less talant) . Fortunately the opening act started early, and even more fortunately they ended early.

Looking at all the lighting and electronic gear on the stage, things looked like this was going to be as much of a light show as a concert. After a not too long intermission, NIN hit the stage. NIN is Trent, plus whoever he drags along with him on that particular tour. For this tour, Trent employed out of work Cenobites (not cinnabites) as his guitarist and basist. One sported a boufant/mullet, and the other looked like a long lost member of the Hair Bear Bunch. Is Trent Pinhead in disguise?

Things really didn't get going until several songs in, and with the overly nice (this is a NIN show--where's the angst) subdued crowd, they never really got to the usual rolling boil. Before long, the screens decended, the lights got all weird, and the brown note montage began. Experimental music and crap share a common thread, and there's a fine line betwix the two. All in all it was kinda cool (thus it's experimental, not crap), but I thing I needed some payote or shrooms to appreciate it fully. The giant touch screen Ableton setup was real cool however.

Once thing finnaly got rocking, Trent and co decended back to hell. After the requisite pause, they returned--Hellraiser II! All in all it was a great show, mostly because I got reunited with my old posse, which was a pleasant surprise. Getting to see the redneck hobbits, now that was a bonus.

I'm a PC

2008-11-14T07:28:00.004-05:00

I've always been a PC, though before that I was a Commodore 64. I was the computer geek you made fun of in school, and also the one who helped fix your computer when it became cool to have one. I didn't mind either role, and I kinda appreciated the latter, as it signified the accepance of PCs in our world. I was becoming a bit more cool.

I've used Macs for 25 years, but I never felt at home with one. I missed the second mouse button, an eject button on disc drives (they likely were before your time), and more than anything, I missed the ability to do stuff. Underpowered and under-gamed, there wasn't much a Mac could do before it crashed. Even when Steve Jobs came back iMacs and iPods gained conciousness, they were still underpowered and overpriced, but then things changed, almost as if the Mac went through puberty and grew a pair. People began to see iPods as cool, and they opened up to Apple. Apple finally had an operating system that didn't crash, and before long they became pretty PCs that could even run Windows. Then they started to get cocky. The Mac started taunting me with an endles stream of commercials, mocking me. No matter what I watched, it was there, not quite as bad as those damned "Saved by Zero" commercials. Couldn't the Dell Dude stand in for the I'm a PC guy? Maybe they could just smoke a bowl and get along together, and not mock me?

This was all still rather trite and silly, as no one I knew and respected used a Mac. Sure some people dabbled with one, a dirty weekend fling or something, but they showered up and returned to their true love, the PC. That all changed this week, when my homie decided to take his Mac envy to the next level. He looked, he touched, and he bought into the hype. Couldn't there be a Cheaters style show for these circumstances? Couldn't we just Punk him and shame him into getting a PC instead? All would be forgiven, and maybe we could just down a beer and laugh about it.

You see it's not that he's a lame poser, wooed by style and marketing schtick. No, he's genuinely cool. Ladies like him, guys like him; he sings, he writes; and he can make a mean homemade jalapeno popper. What's worse is that he's molding young minds, so we haven't just lost one to the cause, but maybe four! Now whenever I come over, the Mac will be there, staring me down and saying, he's mine bitch. I'll have to keep an eye out for a Bang & Olufsen catelog or Scientology's dreaded E-Meter. I don't even know if I can stop myself from slashing the tires on the Prius that he'll inevitably be crusing around in.

I'm a PC, and I'm just not cool enough for a Mac. I'm off to take a long shower to wash away my shame.

What a bunch of crap

2008-11-13T08:53:00.005-05:00

Every day I drive by and hear commercials for Big and Tall stores or departments in stores. Being both big and tall myself, I should be delighted that our crazy world cares so much for me, but no there is no delight here. Why? Well there are no such things as Big and Tall clothes. Like the moon landing and those odd one horned goats that Ringling Brothers tried to pass as unicorns, it's a fraud. What is it . . . really? A front for fat people, plain and simple. 95% of what they sell is designed for enormous sumo wrestling folks who can pull of Jabba the Hut any Halloween they're too lazy to try to dress up like old Marlon Brando. The other 5%, well that's just in case the circus is in town and some skinny stilt walker needs a new pair of pants. I suppose it could be a Big or Tall store.

I'm not alone. I imagine most seventeen year old gals are rather bored by Seventeen Magazine, and I know that the folks I see in Forever 21 aren't, and I also there's nothing innately American about American cheese. Don't even get me started with Waterbeds and Stuff, which should be called Bongs and Stuff, with the stuff being old dusty and moldy tobacco to go in all those water pipes. What happened to the truth? At least The Dollar Tree, still has stuff that costs a dollar (no trees however).

hypermilers, damn you!

2008-11-12T09:14:00.004-05:00

Ever be cruising along at a speed that actually gets you somewhere in a limited amount of time (unless you get pulled over) and have some jackass who's on the cruise control and putzing along slowly to use less gas get in your way? Those bastards are hypermiling, which is the lowest form of dorkiness--yes WoW geeks, you just moved up a notch, but don't let it get to your head, and no you didn't just level up. Anyway, those morons drive slow, tailgate, occasionally run red lights/stop signs, or even turn the engine off and cruise! All to save a few ounces of gas. Oh, they usually have a bunch of annoying bumper stickers all over the back of their cars (often none are on the actual bumper, aparantly they didn't understand the concept). If I'm going to be stuck beind some 1984 VW Golf diesel, I expect to see black sooty porn and not black sooty propaganda.

What's worse is that the nerds who write the OED, who are one notch above WoW players and two above hypermilers--unless they happen also to be in those other groups, decided that hypermiling is the word of the year. Kinda jumping the gun in mid November, eh? Anyway I was rooting for schadenfreude, which is my favorite word. I suppose it's not the end of the world, as I know sooner or later I'll be hypomiling (my word of 2009) and I'll get to watch some hypermiling jackass rear end a semi they're tailgating while their engine is off and their power brakes aren't so powered. Then I'll roll down the windows (keeping my AC on) and yell, SCHADENFREUDE! Don't think they make any hybrid hearses, nor have I ever seen any with any bumper stickers.

My knight in slobbery fur

2008-10-28T13:23:00.003-04:00

I haven't dropped off the edge of the Earth--there is one ya know! I've just been busy, lazy, and sore. I could write about being busy, but that's no fun, besides most of its work stuff, and I don't want to get fired. Writing about being lazy seems oddly hypocritical, and well that leaves us with sore. You see a few weeks back, my back, decided that it wasn't really my turn to load the dishwasher, and I was hammered with the lovely reminder that you're alive that is deathly pain. That and an inability to move (even more than that brought on by lazyness), and I was in need of help. For centuries we've all had the reliable, loyal, and slobbery rescuer available at a beacons call--no not that Life Call I've fallen and can't get up shit. You see most of us are beyond earshot, but some of us gluttons have them on the premises for moments like this!

Kuma, my knight in slobbery fur!

Before I knew it, I was being attended to, and for once not leaned upon, as Kuma was there for me to lean on him! He was like a big lumbering walker, which is more than I can say for myself, as I was just big and lumbering. Kuma led me to a more modern lifeline, my Blackberry, which brought Liz and then the wonders of Columbus' wonderful ER experience. I just wish Kuma had his barrel, as I could have just drank my way to good health and bypassed the ER. Or I could have just went to his vet, which could have been cheaper and offered a less feral waiting room. Good to know in case this ever happens again, and I hope it doesn't.

I'm fine now btw

Feeding giraffes, rhinos, and mammoths

2008-09-24T23:11:00.009-04:00

Day five of our epic California safari

It almost never got this far, as we arrived for our "10am" flight at 8:30--too bad it really was a 9am flight! Amazingly we ran, breezed through security, and luckily all was well. Despite a few minor calamities at rental car counters, over aggressive valets, and bum fights, we made it! Sadly these delays made us too late for the zoo, but we did get to go on a hippi safari in Balboa park.

We sought adventure on our first full day in San Diego, and we went to the San Diego Wild Animal Park. Being on vacation we spluged on a African Photo Safari, where we got to drive amongst the gazelles, antelopes, rhinos, and giraffes. We actually got to feed giraffes, but the cutest thing was watching the rhino rub his itchy back on the truck we were in. Almost as amusing as the rhinos was watching the people and their interactions with the animals. Sadly we really wanted to feed the rhino, and that was another tour. We had a blast nonetheless.

Afterward we got to chill with Liz's peeps, eat great mexican food, and watch a shitty movie on an awesome TV.

Another day, another adventure. This time the San Diego Zoo was open, and the place is huge! We trek through the humble Columbus Zoo often, but this place is off the hook. The rate paths for novices, intermediate, and experts--some have warnings for those with wheelchairs. We hiked and hiked, and finally, we fould the pandas! Damn things don't do much. They're sleepy pacifists (the speghetti monster gave them the digestive system of a carnivore but they eat bamboo). During our journey, we passed three different meerkat enclosures, and a whole lotta pigs. We've never seen so many pigs (or types of pigs) in our life.

We still wanted to feed the rhinos, and that's where our next day would take us (back to the Wild Animal Park). The rhinos are absolutely adorable, and they just sit there and chow apples. Well, first we had to track one down, and after some coaxing, we were chucking apples into their huge heads. They're a bit bashful at first, and once they're full, its time for a bath (ever see a rhino roll on his back--we have!). The rhinos actually reminded us a lot of our big dogs.

All in all I took thousands of shots (see below), and he had a blast. We did everything we could have wanted to do, plus a bunch of fun work stuff (dinners, conference, and a hokey conferment ceremony). After all was said and done, we began our trek north. Along the way, we stopped at a favorite restaurant of Liz's, and I got a t-shirt for winning the Gamblers Challenge (eat a 35oz sirloin). Kinda sad a rhino gets some apples and I get a sirloin the size of a cat!

PMPin Ain't Easy

2008-09-16T08:30:00.003-04:00

Last week I decided to make an honest pimp of myself. Well I decided a while back, but I made it happen last week. You see a pimp friend of mine--names will remain anonymous to protect the guilty--joined me in a crash training course for the pmp exam. Little did we know that meant a crash diet for some, a crash course in mathematics for others, and a crash head first into boredom.

It all seemed nice from afar, a course provider promising a success on the test with the added carrot of a week away from the office. Well sometimes the cheetah catches its prey because its just lame or retarded, and that doesn't make for much of a chase. I went to a cheetah course and it was lame, retarded, and more gulag than gitmo, but that's hardly reason to bust out the sparklers and champagne. Oh, and then there's the preechy no caffeine or carbs bs. Are you kidding me!?! That's how I graduated college in two years and have enough hokey financial services certifications to do a decent game of scrabble with the letters behind my name.

Sadly those letters don't matter, as afterall who's a better merchant than a pimp. At least I got to study under the tutelege of a savant who even tried to pimp me! Pimpin a pimp, who would havr thunk it?

So anyway I was trapped in Stalag 17 for a week and all I got was this blog. At least you got Hilton Rewards points at the Hanoi Hilton, let alone the bones miles doled out for suffering through "1 Night in Paris". Oh fyi. They could have called it five minutes in Paris.

I'm 17 years ahead of the world

2008-08-25T12:32:00.003-04:00

Liz and I saw Hamlet 2 this weekend, and it was everything I'd hope it would be (among other things in included a sequel to Hamlet involving a time machine and Jesus--sexy Jesus in fact). Watching the clever sequel to the Bard's masterpiece seemed oddly familiar, like deja vu. It took a few moments for it to all make sense, but it wasn't long before it hit me in the face. This notion of a time machine to fix Shakespeare's tragic endings wasn't new, I had thought it up in 8th grade! No it wasn't Hamlet, we didn't have to read it until high school, and to be honest after seeing Kennith Branagh's version in a foolish moment masochism in college, I'd wish them all a horrible death. No need to go back in time to save anyone. Anyway, it was "Romeo and Juliet", which has a similar story to Tromeo and Juliet.

We read the play, watched the movie (yeah the one with the chick with nice hooters), and afterward we had to do some lame creative project. Dioramas, mobiles, scrapbooks, and other shit were heaved upon our teacher. Not being one to be outdone, I decided to fight fire with fire, and do a bit of writing--a new ending to "Romeo and Juliet". Sure it's rather adolescant, but for a good reason. I was like 13 or 14, and I was heavily influenced by what I saw on TV.

One day MacGyver and his boss Pete were out fishing. They caught marlin on MacGyver's homemade line. Pete was sea sick and he had already puked three times on "Phoenix I," the corporate boat, so MacGyver drove him home. MacGyver wasn't tired, so he decided to read the book he got this month. The book was a Shakespearean play, "Romeo and Juliet," to be exact.

LATER

After reading the play, MacGyver dozed off. He was saddened by the tragic ending. He wished he could do something. "WAIT," he thought, "Maybe I could build a time machine." He thought about what he would need.
He decided to call Dr. Bruce Banner a buddy of his; the good doctor was an expert on many time traveling theories. The doctor could warn him of any dangers. The doctor was not as smart as MacGyver; nobody is.
MacGyver knew he needed to travel to modern day Verona so he called the "A-Team." They could get him a plane and help fly it. The A-Team could build anything, but not with as few resources as MacGyver. MacGyver needed their help due to the little amount of time in a 60 minute episode.
Face, Murdock, B.A., Hannibal, and Bruce arrived. MacGyver acquainted them of his plan. The "A-Team," will build the plane and MacGyver will build the time machine.
B.A. quickly pulled the van up to the garage. Hannibal told Face and Murdock to unload the welding equipment. They did so. B.A. congregated the spare sheet-metal and steel tubing that MacGyver has lying around. Face detached the engine from MacGyver's truck. Murdock went up to MacGyver's attic to get the excess carbon fiber MacGyver has up there. B.A. welded a large frame. Face bent the sheet metal to form a fuel tank. Murdock modified MacGyver's truck's engine. He made it into a jet engine. Hannibal and B.A. weaved the carbon fiber around the frame B.A. made. Face took the glass from MacGyver's truck to form a windscreen for the plane. Murdock took the gauges from MacGyver's truck and put them in the plane. B.A. welded the engine on. Face welded on the fuel tank. Murdock connected the fuel tank to the engine. Hannibal cut a door in the plane's body.
MacGyver gathered ten coathangers, a potato, and a touch-tone phone. First he stretched out all the coathangers. Second he tied all of them together forming a loop. Next he separated one connection, putting the potato between the ends. Finally he wired the phone up to the potato. The machine would get its power from the potato. The date would be entered into the phone's keypad. The coathanger loop would be the gate between now and then. Bruce warned MacGyver of the ramifications of altering history. The group went out to the plane.
B.A. said "Good-bye," to the others. B.A. got into the van. Before he could start the van, face gave B.A. a shot that put B.A. to sleep. They boarded the plane. Murdock moved into the pilot's seat. B.A. was dumped on the floor. The plane whizzed down the street. Eventually it became airborne. The plane would just barely make to Italy.
During the flight MacGyver sewed some period appropriate clothing. The plane made it to Italy, but the plane did not make it to Verona. They had to ditch the plane in the middle of an open field. They did not know that Rambo IV was be filmed on that location. Explosions were occurring to the plane's right. B.A. woke up. Then Rambo came running towards them. He did not know that the plane was not supposed to be there. He sprayed lead into the plane. Fortunately all of Rambo's bullets were blanks.
"Cut," said the director, "I said cut dammit." Rambo ceased fire. The director approached the plane. MacGyver went to Rambo, while Hannibal tried to make up an excuse for the director.
"We have supplies for the Pope," said Hannibal.
"The Pope you say; what supplies do you have," said the director.
"Parts for the Popemobile," replied Hannibal. Meanwhile MacGyver persuaded Rambo to divert the director while the A-team fixes the plane.
"YO, Direcduh," said Rambo. The director went to Rambo. The A-team took all that was worth keeping. All was loaded on three Jeeps. The A-team, the doctor, and MacGyver boarded the Jeeps. Rambo jumped in one of the Jeeps. MacGyver grudgingly let Rambo come along. After three tense hours they arrived in modern day Verona.
MacGyver set up the time machine. Dr. Banner warned MacGyver once again. B.A. did not want to have anything to do with a time machine, so he suggested that he stay back, I mean forward, to guard the machine. Murdock called B.A. a coward. B.A. decided to go along. The group walked into the loop. Upon arriving in the past, they noticed that their hair was standing up. B.A. was not affected, as his hair stands up anyway. They were 100 ft. from the gates to the city. As expected, they arrived on Thursday, Juliet's second wedding day. MacGyver suggested that they all wait by the gateway, while he went to Friar Lawrence's cell.
Rambo had another idea; he grabbed as many weapons as he could. He raided the gates of the city. He sprayed lead into the guards that tried to stop him. He then ran into the first building he saw, and then he set a bomb to blow up five minutes from then. He ran out of the building carelessly mowing down anyone he could find, enjoying it. Meanwhile, Dr. Banner could not stand the violence. He got bigger, greener, and meaner. He became the "Incredible Hulk." He ran into the city randomly taking care of anyone Rambo hasn't killed. Rambo stormed the Montegue's home. He did not shoot anyone; he instead pulled out his trusty survival knife. He began gashing people with it. He cut into people, then pulled up with all of his strength. One by on he killed all the Montegues, but one, Romeo. He then pulled out three grenades, and then ran out of the house throwing the grenades on his way out.
B.A. encouraged the A-team to do the same. Hannibal instructed B.A. to retrieve a cart. B.A. did so. Hannibal told Murdock and face to gather wood. They did so. Within ten minutes the cart and the wood became a wooden tank. Hannibal retrieved a nearby horse and hitched it up to the cart-tank. The A-team boarded the tank. Murdock controlled the horses. The tank stormed the town.
Meanwhile, Hulk stormed the Home of Paris. He sought out anyone. First he picked up a servant, then he threw him 20 feet. Next he saw Paris; he then picked him up and crushed him. Hulk continued.
Concurrently, MacGyver arrived at Friar Lawrence's cell. He told him that Romeo will not be informed of the Friar's plan. At first the Friar did not believe MacGyver, but finally MacGyver convinced him. The Friar then went immediately to Capulet's tomb. MacGyver, believing his job was done, returned to the porthole.
As this was going on, Rambo stormed Capulet's place. He did not know that the A-team was attacking from the back of Capulet's place. The A-team fired at servants, and at Rambo. Rambo was hit by a bullet.
He turned and ran into the building spraying lead all over the place. Rambo had lost touch with reality. He no longer had full control of his body; primal instincts took over. He became the ultimate killing machine. He shot and killed all the A-team. He killed Capulet, Lady Capulet, Nurse, and anyone else he could see. He set bombs all over the complex. He stormed out of there. He ran into neighboring homes doing the same. He no longer knew why he was killing, he just knew he liked it.
Rambo saw Hulk; he immediately shot twenty, thirty, forty times. Hulk did not fall; he attacked Rambo. They fought hand to hand for minutes. Then Rambo pulled out his knife and stabbed Hulk with inconceivable power. He drove the knife upward. Hulk had a twelve inch gash stretching from his lower chest to his neck. Hulk then bit into Rambo with his last strength. Hulk fell.
Rambo, wounded, stopped for a minute. He stuck his knife in the hole from the bullet. He cleaned out the wound by twisting the knife. He then pulled out the bullet and the knife. He opened a bullet. He poured the powder in the wound. He then lit it. The ferocious heat sealed his flesh shut.
While this was going on, MacGyver arrived at the porthole. Only Colonel Decker and his merry men were there. "Where's Smith and the A-team?" asked Decker.
"Good question," returned MacGyver.
"Cut the crap kid, where is Smith?" yelled Decker irately.
"Colonel, I brought them here, and then they left. They refused to listen to me. Good luck finding them," said MacGyver.
"Put Mr. Angus MacGyver in cuffs," yelled Decker violently. "Damn you Smith," whispered Decker. "C'mon boys lets go after them," cried Decker. The group spread and searched for the A-team. MacGyver stayed behind handcuffed to a tree.
Rambo began his onslaught again. He attacked people, animals, even trees. He threw grenades everywhere. After destroying every building in town, he returned to the porthole. On the way he ran into a few of Decker's men. He slaughtered them with rapid bullet fire.
Back at the porthole, MacGyver used some lint in his pocket to unlock his handcuffs. He then waited for the rest to return. MacGyver saw Balthesar. He ran to him rapidly. "Balthesar! wait!" he yelled. "Juliet is still alive," he blared.
"What be you sayith," responds Balthesar. "I saw the fair Juliet put in her final resting place, she be as dead as Elvis," he replied angrily. "Do you hath say my dear eyes lie to thy?" questioned Balthesar.
"No, and you are right Juliet is as dead as Elvis," MacGyver stated with authority. MacGyver explained what happened to Juliet. Balthesar finally understood it all. MacGyver sent Balthesar on his way. Rambo returned. Upon seeing a familiar face Rambo got back in touch with reality. MacGyver and Rambo exited the past and entered the present.
Romeo talked with Balthesar. He then returned to what was Verona. The town and its residents were gone; only corpses remained. The only people left were Romeo, Balthesar, Friar Lawrence, and Juliet. Together with new residents, new town was built. Romeo ruled the town. Everyone who lived, lived happily ever after.

LATER

MacGyver woke up. He looked around. He realized that he was dreaming and that none of this really happened. He still felt dejected by the tragic ending.

Ok, the ending is a cop out. Throw out everything after that last "LATER", and it's so much better than the real thing. Still tragic, but kinda happy--right? The Tivo of life is 17 years behind me. Time to fast forward through commercials!

High School was a bunch of crap

2008-08-16T15:34:00.004-04:00

Today I couldn't help but think back to a day back in high school. I sat in economics class, hearing some liberal propaganda about how we should be guilt as Americans, as capitalists, for the plight of workers in developing nations who made our shoes, who sew our clothes, who allow us to lead the life of luxury we enjoy. Before long, the bell rang, and I walked to Recreation Class.

Yeah that's right, I took a class in recreation. We "studied" volleyball, badminton, tether ball, and ping pong. Anyway, I suppose I should have felt guilty that as Americans we not only have such luxuries and time to enjoy them, but also that folks in China slave away just to make those toys for us. Whatever, I didn't care, and I enjoyed the fruits of their labor and kicked ass in badminton.

Why do I think about this day back in high school? Well today I saw the Chinese win gold and silver in badminton, watching the winner drop to her knees in tears afterward. Yesterday I saw the Chinese dominate in ping pong, in the only purpose built ping pong stadium. The day before--you guessed it volleyball. Damn! What a load of crap, they're not slaving away. They're just sitting around playing recreation sports. Is Napoleon Dynamite's tether ball prowess all that's left for America to be proud of? Time to get out the croquet set!

Tom Jones, Niel Diamond, and Magnus

2008-08-15T14:31:00.003-04:00

Ever wonder what it's like being Tom Jones' tour manager or maybe Niel Diamond's roadie? Whew, I though I was the odd one. Anyway, besides being trampled by over exuberant ladies and maybe some confused dudes, I'm sure it's got its charms. You never get bored or are at a loss for good people watching. The closest any mortal will ever get to this insanity is taking Magnus out in public, as like the lure of Mr Jones and Mr Diamond, he's irresistible. Actually, his draw is much much stronger.

I suppose it makes sense, animal attraction to of all things an animal, but Magnus is so much more than an animal. I imagine maybe the Dalai Llama or some other quasi deity strolling through Tibet may get as much attention as our dear Magnus, maybe on a good day, but I doubt it. You don't believe me? Mom's abandon babies in shopping carts, cashiers leave their tills, and grown men become as sappy as a little girl with their first little pony. Even people used to being around puppies are compulsed to touch him, to dote over him, to merely be near him. Other dogs feel the lure too. Everyone wants to be near the Magnus, though ironically enough, Magnus just wants to lie by my (or Liz') feet and lay low.

I suppose he's a bit like a fluffy (1980s) Michael Jackson. Gosh, I hope his fur doesn't turn all white. He does has a high pitched bark, and I've seen him playing with my gloves. Hmmmm

Intervention time!

Emulation is the sincerest form of flattery

2008-08-14T06:16:00.002-04:00

Well if that's the case, our Wii has really boosted the self esteem of old NES, Genesis, SNES, and even Saturn consoles that line landfills across the world. What the hell is Shane blabbering about this time? We'll get there.

You know how guys facing various facets of aging take on long forgotten aspects of their youth such as buying that sports car (or pimped out minivan) of his childhood dreams or reliving the memories of scoring four touchdowns in a game playing for Polk High School. For me, its more geeky. Since I've been banned from watching Jeopardy, I've taken on other pursuits. Yesterday I liberated our Wii, itself a flashback to a mispent youth. Now I can take on Bionic Commando, Pro Wrestling, and even Contra! That's right:

"Congratulations! You've destroyed the vile Red Falcon and saved the universe. Consider yourself a hero."

How's that for a pat on the back! Plus all those years where I remembered ↑ ↑ ↓ ↓ ← → ← → B A and was led to believe those brain cells had a greater purpose, well look who's typing now---byatch! It's great to be alive!

The End is Near

2008-08-04T14:17:00.003-04:00

On Sunday August 3rd 2008, the Advantium became self aware.

Liz and I both like to cook, but we love kitchen gadgets. You name it, we've owned it, and with no one holding us back for sanity's sake, its a miracle we're not smothered in gadgets. With a solid household income, Amazon Prime, and infomercials, it's really only space that's holding us back. It really was an issue when her gadget collection united with mine, and until recently we were hovering at that rather restrictive ceiling.

We decided to kick things up a notch by building a new wall of cabinets to house gadgets plus a counter top to display our prized possessions. Out came the breadmaker and the blender, Cuisinart, and KitchenAid had proper homes. We really shouldn't get more, lest we go back to shuttling stuff to/from the garage, but there just had to be a better option. We need more stuff!!!

Like most folks, we have a microwave (two actually), and I'm not sure if this is normal, but we NEVER used it--err either of them. Our solution? Get a new (third) microwave. A cry for help? Not really, as this one can go over the stove. We needed a new vent anyway, and this hardly cost much more, and it's a gadget!

Oh boy, is it a gadget. You see it's a microwave, a vent, and a light ... but wait there's more: it's also a convection oven! But if you order in the next 20 minutes, we'll throw in the ability to cook with halogen lights! Geesh, how could we resist (especially on clearance). We couldn't, and the next thing you know, we're tearing out cabinets, running wires through walls, and rebuilding cabinets to make room for ... The Advantium.

The geniuses at GE (the company that brought us Lexan, Borazon, and ALF!) created this triumverate of cooking, and the halogen bulbs are the real advancement (seems a lot like a heat lamp at Mickie D's to me). The real kicker is how the thing thinks. It knows what you want to do, and then outsmarts you. It's more human than human, and all to scary. The end is near.

Now I just need to figure it out.

Gastronomical molestation

2008-07-29T14:39:00.003-04:00

Say that three times. Better yet try to erase those words from your mind.

Let's step back a second while you're cleansing your mind. Every day I swing by the Laake casa to fatten up our little warrior Magnus. Magnus gains about a pound a day in lean muscle mass (well bones too), so squeezing 5-6 meals in is a must (as he poops out 95% of what goes in). While he does his Eukanuba Dyson routine, I scavenge the DVR and channel guide for something ... anything to watch.

Thus we end up watching Hurl! Do I need to describe Hurl!? Well since I suffered through it, let's go into detail. For starters they eat food that looks like barf. Pot Pie innards do the trick. They get measured on quantity consumed, in pounds. The top performers move on to the next round, where they are spun around until one spews. Then more food, more vomit, and lots and lots of slow motion replay. Oh boy! Oh, the title of this blog, that's how G4 promotes this drivel.

What are they competing for? $1000!

My little Fight Club

2008-07-22T13:33:00.006-04:00

For whatever reason, Fight Club, both in it's book and movie forms resonated with me. I'm not sure if it's being stuck in a corporate America morass, a fondness for Ikea, or just a taste for violence. Whatever, it's cool, I'm cool, and I'm doing my part--well if you ignore those first two rules.

Do I show up to work with shiners, spit out needless extra teeth in meetings, or try to pick fights at work? Maybe, but that's beside the point. Fight Club is bigger than Tyler Durden, it was an institution--a way of life. That's what I'm on to. While the soap making has yet to kick into full gear, the ass kicking is alive and well. I guess my fight club started when I had two eager disciples who weren't separated by bars, but bloodlines tended to quash matters more than steel bars. Fresh blood, new blood, hungry blood really livened things up.

Michael Vick really got into a quagmire with his whole operation, but he had it all wrong. Rather than train animals to be aggressive, violent, and hungry, one can just adopt ones who have that potential. Then all you have to do is feed, nurture, and support them. In time it all takes care of itself; all you need is a camera. Leo and Adler (above) sometimes have epic cat fights, but they are nothing compared to the earth shaking chaos that is a Kuma and Stuart bout. Kuma is sorta like an Emo Andre the Giant. Big, strong, but somehow not that menacing. Stuart is rather like X-Pac, little, greasy, and really really really hard to root for. At first Stuart defied logic and all reason, by whipping up on Kuma. Poor Kuma wasn't getting enough calories to have the energy to fight back. A hearty diet, some encouragement, and maybe a little goading, and Kuma the Giant found himself. Stuart was never the same.

Things got worse for Stuart, as little Magnus is fast becoming the Kimbo Slice of Columbus. He's never ran from a fight, and I've never seen fear in his eye. The little warrior tears toys from Kuma's mouth, makes Stuart run like a coward, and has even tried to gnaw his daddy into submission. His training has just began, and he's gaining a pound a day. We may have to bring in Godzilla to give him a good workout or fly him to Spain to run with the bulls. Until then, Kuma and Stuart will have to do. Poor Stuart!

Time to light a cigar

2008-07-16T11:10:00.007-04:00

Like most newlyweds, one of our first concerns is family planning. Each of us had several children out of wedlock, and we had a few more while dating. Since there's no greater responsibility than parenthood, we took this seriously (we didn't want to be Madonna and just pick up some orphan on a whim).

At first our new child was just a glimmer in our eyes, but through lots of planning and consideration, we found the perfect addition. It wasn't quick, nor was it easy, and it certainly didn't keep us close to home, but it was well worth it. Cuter than Knut, almost as strong as Tim Tebow, and built like a tank, I give you Magnus.

Magnus was 25lbs and just under 10 weeks when we picked him up for the first time. He's a big boy, with paws and shoulder bigger than most dogs (even bigger than our fat 70lb bassett hound), but he's all puppy on the inside. If his 200lb+ daddy (serrogate--not me) has anythig to do with it, he'll be huge. Heck if I have anything to do with it, he'll be huge too! He's already holding his own with Stuart (the bassett hound), and Kuma (our 174lb St Bernard) will soon have his paws full too.

Putting the cart before the horse (part 4)

2008-07-15T09:39:00.015-04:00

Our journey continued when we reached Dingle following the fool hearty trip through Connor Pass. Dingle, a quaint seaside town now brimming with tourists (we saw more tour buses in Dingle than we saw tourists elsewhere), still possess ample charm. Liz came in search of the legendary Murphey's Ice Cream, and I searched for the eponymous berries. At least one of us came away with the prize. Beyond foodstuff, Dingle offers a host of interesting characters, from the sharp witted dude in the ice cream shop to the tour guide turned B&B proprietor, the people were more interesting than the cows and sheep (which says a lot--really).

After strolling through town, and buying some umbrellas (Guinness of course--too bad it wasn't raining Guinness), we made our first journey around the Dingle Peninsula. While I was unsuccessful in my berry quest, we did rind roadside shrines, beehive structures, stone forts, and lots and lots of sheep in our first go round. We didn't stop for too much, as we were killing time (ouch bad pun, you'll see) while our B&B proprietor was attending a funeral. It was unfortunate, as when we met her, we discovered she had quite the attack plan for seeing all there is to see in the peninsula (and saving a few bucks with local knowledge and tricks). We also began our strategy for the next day's mission, the Ring of Kerry.

The Ring of Kerry, is a route around the Iveragh Peninsula, which has a spine of mountains, glorious valleys, and beautiful lakes. Oh, it overlooks the ocean too. We initially decided to follow the advice of the B&B proprietor and bypass the full blown ring, focusing on the Gap of Dunloe and a few other chunks of the ring without going whole hog on the 170 kilometer (105 mile) journey. On our way to the Gap of Dunloe, we saw goats (sadly the only two we saw in all of Ireland) on the roadside and followed signs to a nearby castle. We should have known that having goats lead us to a castle might make the castle a bit more WT than average, and the doublewide trailer, broken cars, and the "Villa Roma" sign indicated either we were in some long lost (very lost) Roman Villa, or in the land of Irish Rednecks with a sense of ironic humor. I'm not sure which would have been the better option.

The Gap of Dunloe is a valley that's composed of grazing land for sheep and a narrow road that's closed to traffic, unless its hoofing it. When we say hoofing it, we mean allowing an animal with a hoof to do the dirty work, in this case a horsee names Beauty. Bueaty was driven by a dude with a heavy Kerry accent, lots of stories to tell, and aparantly a cell phone with awesome coverage. We rode into the valley and back, passing folks who really didn't understand "hoofing it", running into horse traffic, and watching silly Americans develop saddle sores that will make them walk like the survived Deliverance.

After our horsee trek, we had plenty of time left, so we decided to throw caution to the wind and take on the ring. Along the way we had pancakes, visited some forts (being cheapskates and not paying), snapped a lot of pics of sheep, and enjoyed the breathtaking scenery. One of the most vivid moments was watching a bunch of tourists who were congregated in an incredibly windy break in the mountains try to take a picture. It must have been a sustained 50mph+ wind with stronger gusts--it was rather funny. Beside that we saw more trailers, surfers, lots of big ass buses, and more sheep. We made it through the ring in good enough time to make it home to Dingle for dinner, and another journey (remember it stays light until 10:30pm!).

After tapas, you know the traditional Irish dinner, we decided to re-do the Dingle Peninsula. I had the brilliant idea to go the opposite direction that we were given directions in, which likely would have just been novel had the map been more accurate than One-Eyed Willy's treasure map. Despite our wanderings, we visited an oratory that was 1400 years old (ie not built in 1400AD, rather 600AD) and still holding up well, some ruins that were ruined, and caught a glimpse of the Sleeping Giant. By then we were actually seeing the sun set, and it was soon time to retire. Our two days in Dingle, along with our journeys in County Kerry were wonderful. Sadly we only had one more night in Ireland.

Our last night was in Bunratty, which is conveniently (and I doubt not coincidentally) close to the airport. We made decent time, including another visit to Limerick, but alas when we left the charming company of our B&B there, we were too late to visit the local castle. Having already heard Sinead, or gracious host fail to get us a reservation at the castle for dinner, this was a rather crushing disappointment. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and damnit it was our honeymoon. In a land where divorce has been only legalized in my lifetime and where having kids out of wedlock is still tantamount to being shunned, I knew the power of marriage and being on a honeymoon had to have some traction. Fortunately our efforts to fly standy at the catsle paid off, and we were able to feast on soup, ribs, capons, and other medieval fare. Ironically enough, we were seated accross a family from Powell. Before you know it, the night was over, as was our Irish honeymoon. The memories will last forever, and we'll likely find ourselves back in Ireland someday.

Putting the cart before the horse (part 3)

2008-07-14T09:05:00.008-04:00

You wanted more? I sure hope so, as here it is:

One thing that was omnipresent from our time in Connemara through the rest of the trip belies visualization, as relies moreso on other senses--notably smell. Ireland has a unique way of fueling fire, almost as creative as Cleveland's use of flaming rivers, they burn the dirt. You read that right, they dig up peat in bogs, slice it into bricks, and dry the lot. The dried bricks of peat can be burned. You can even buy peat briquettes in grocery stores. The sweet smell of peat permeates the landscape, and homesick Irishmen can even buy incense that smells like peat.

So we drove south from Connemara, smelling peat, and enjoying the countryside. Friday was a disappointing day, as everywhere we ventured seemed to be closed, off limits, or a secret place to park and fornicate. We spent an hour looking for the legendary Castle Mattrix, but we were unsuccessful in finding a way there.

Putting Friday's disappointments behind us, we set off from Adare and headed toward Dingle. The last words of the gentleman at the B&B were to warn us to avoid a certain town (Castlegregory) if it was cloudy. It was cloudy--Ireland and all, and we decided to head there. It wasn't that bad--how bad could it be? Well Castlegregory was fine, though the clouds and rain tempered the view quite a bit. We were able to see surf shops, surfing school, and lots of tourists. It was almost like Florida--well not really. Anyway, we had survived Castlegregory. We then set out to get to our final destination, Dingle. We had no idea what we were getting into.

There's only one vaguely direct route between Castlegregory and Dingle--the ~~Donner~~ Connor Pass. The clouds and rain hindered our view of the pass, but we clearly saw the "Turn Back Now" signs--both sets. We trekked on. The road, like most we encountered in Ireland, typically accommodated 1.5 normal sized cars, which is about the size of one US highway lane. Unlike that highway lane, which is meant for one car going one way, the roads in Ireland are meant for two going opposite ways. The road to Connor Pass started as 1.5 cars wide, with occasional moments that allowed for two, but it degenerated to barely accommodating one car passed the second "Turn Back Now" sign. This would be problematic with two way traffic on a cliff side, which was the case, but throw in one more variable, and it became rather crazy: fog. Aha, that's what we were warned about. The fog in the pass made it impossible to see more than feet in front of your car, which together with the blind corners, made it insane. To make a long story short, I f'ed up and backed into the mountain trying to find a way to let 10 cars coming head on pass us. Good thing we had that damage waiver! We finally made it through the worst part, and when we saw the "Turn Back Now" signs in our rear view mirror, we knew we were done with it.

We then made it to Dingle, and were ready for the final days of honeymoon. To be continued...

Putting the cart before the horse (part 2)

2008-07-11T09:07:00.009-04:00

I told you there would be more!

In Doolin we noticed a lot of hokey Irish souvenirs playing up the sheep as an iconic symbol of Ireland. They were cute and all, but gosh, we saw 100x more cows than sheep. Maybe after one too many Guinness the sheep and cows start to blur together.

After the two joyful days in Doolin and the surrounding area, we trekked to Connemara. The region is divided by several mountain ranges (yes Liz they're mountains, not hills :p) and dotted, nee blanketed with sheep. Sheep on either side of the rode and on the rode. Fences seem to be more a suggestion of a boundary than a real indifference, and the sheep's brazen attitude toward oncoming traffic made Canadian Geese look timid. Maybe it's the punk rock inspired spray-painted doos? Regardless, they really are the most striking memory of our journey--well that is if you ignore the bizarre inhospitable manor house we stayed in (imagine the hotel from the Shining with a Frenchmen pretending to be Irish running the show).

The Zetland Country House really was in the country, which we found out when the only available lunch offerings was their own (based on their 60 Euro dinner prices and the readily apparent creepiness, we passed). Our wanderings led us on a 10 kilometer trek to a marginally less isolated place which featured a gift shop/pub/restaurant. Given that was our only option, we begrudgingly took them up on their lackluster dining options and watched an Irish soap featuring chlamydia and statutory rape as the main story line. Sadly the TV show was better than the food.

After this lackluster beginning to our Connemara stay (which we drove forever from Doolin to get to), we saddled up our mighty Getzy and drove on. We barely made it to the gorgeous Kylemore Abbey before closing time, but alas the gardens that interested us more than the abbey were already closed. The abbey itself is now home to an exclusive girls school--you know the type that you see in horror movies. We took pictures (and a passer by was kind enough to take our picture) and moved on (to the gift shop).

We also had to pass on the nearby national park. Irishmen take note: if it's daylight until fucking 10:30pm, don't close your outdoor activities at 6pm--that's lunacy! We enjoyed the the rest of our journey by driving through the countryside, taking in the beautiful vistas, and driving on the stunning Sky Road near Clifden. We finished our day by enjoying a delightful dinner on the patio of a pub.

Even more to come ...

Putting the cart before the horse

2008-07-10T14:43:00.009-04:00

Before I start some long rambling blog or series of blogs about our honeymoon, I should write about our beautiful wedding. Well I should, but I won't (not today). Anyway, our honeymoon. I suppose our honeymoon began when we left the reception, but to avoid writing some torrid romance, I'll start with our flight to Ireland. Ireland is surprisingly close to the US, and our flight to New York and our layover there was almost as long as our trip to Ireland. In that layover, Liz and I had the opportunity to see the Ukrainian Special Olympics team. I never met an Olympian, but it likely was best that we didn't ask for autographs or photos. In hindsight, I wish I asked for both. Before long we were on our flight to Shannon, Ireland (no where near Kathy). After a bit of shock at the cost of the more or less required insurance (it will pay off later), we were rewarded when the kind unassuming lady behind the counter blurted out chuckling "drive it like we stole it". If we ever stole a car, it would not be a golden Hyundai Getz.

After whirling through two dozen or so roundabouts (and a few roads not on our Garmin) we arrived weary and jet-lagged in Doolin, a seaside town known for its music scene. A uber power-nap revived us for a trek to the Cliffs of ~~Insanity~~ Moher, which in true Irish fashion was cast in an overcast sky and on-again / off-again drizzle. The cliffs were a sight to behold, and you really need to be there. The fact that they had a suicide hotline # posted was a real clue that nothing good comes from getting too close to the edge. Seeking a better way to get near the salty spray, we went to the docks in Doolin. A quick glance revealed why there were no boats departing, but it sure was a great sight to see, let alone sound to hear. All of this is a whirlwind that was just day one.

I had been not so much persuaded but rather goaded into the Irish Breakfast, which is likely what the wicked witch fed Hansel and Gretal. It's huge, but I suppose you gathered that already, but it's also heart and well ... fatty. Irish folks love bacon (well they call it that, they like our confused friends to the north--and I don't mean Michigan-- call this odd hammy stuff bacon), and they love sausage (bangers in Gaelic) just as much. A few clogged arteries later, and we were off on our journey to the Burren. Ever wonder what the moon would be like with lichen and sheep? Well we were there, and we took pictures. Its really hard to describe, but its really amazing. What's sad is it's really just some giant ad for conservation efforts, as cave men (and cave women--time for you cave gals to stand up and take the blame as well) apparently damned themselves by felling a few too many trees. One thing led to another and everything lighter than boulders blew off into the sunset. Oddly enough conversationalists had to stop yuppies from boosting these rocks for zen gardens.

More to come ...

I'm grabbing the bottled water and heading the the basement

2008-05-15T13:04:00.003-04:00

There end is near!!!!

There will be a Cornhole game for the Wii! I've written about this exercise in laminess and idiocy, before. What is the world coming to! I'm still waiting for a decent curling game for the Wii. Now that's a sport worth promoting.

My Dream

2008-05-15T12:22:00.005-04:00

You know I actually write a gazillion cryptoblogs, but many never really become tangible, thus the dearth of blogs lately. This got me thinking about my lifelong ambition, my manifestation of the "American Dream" (btw isn't it rather ethnocentric of us Americans to assume such aspirations are exclusively American? What's the Canadian dream? never mind, that was expressed in Strange Brew). Anyway, I was was thinking about not writing a blog about writing a blog about something I dream of that I always wanted to do but never have--kinda like the blog I wasn't writing ...

Gosh, no wonder I get headaches, it's like some tangle of wires thrown in a drawer! Still with me? Ok, my dream, the Cryptozoo! Duwha? We've all been to zoos, and most of us live to tell (those jackasses who harrass innocent and rather bored tigers excluded), and well they're big expensive, and the market is rather saturated. Yeah, elephants are adorable, Sun Bears are cute, and we've all seen monkey masturbate. Been there done that. My dream is so much grander, a zoo for animals that don't really exist! A cryptozooological paradise!

Who needs an orangutan when you can have a sasquatch? Who needs goats in a petting zoo when you can have the goat sucker! Who needs a zebra when you can have a unicorn! This is stuff P.T. Barnum can only dream of, and now I can only dream of! The beauty of my innovation isn't the wonderous nature of the critters, as others have already made them up (moonshine, marijuana, and other vices may have played a role as well--is it a coincidence that big foot gets sighted in forrests with shrooms or Nessie gets spotted by drunken fishermen?), rather it is the limited overhead. Yes this is a business (I suppose that's the American aspect of the "American Dream"), and there are costs and consumables.

The costs, next to none. It's a cryptozoo, so once the animal actually exists, well then it belongs in a real zoo. As long as it's a zoo for make believe animals, there only needs to be make believe exibits. A fenced in area with trees, large foot prints, maybe a nice pile of poo (readily available thanks to owning a Saint Bernard) and voila! an exhibit of a sasquatch. Set up some interesting sound effects, pay a cryptozookeeper to stand there and talk about seeing the sasquatch a little bit ago (heck there are whack jobs who would do it for free--and not even know how full of shit they are!). Next to that a pond, with a smoke machine running full tilt, maybe a few odd shaped logs floating around (and a beer cart selling concessions to boost "sightings"), and you have a Loch Ness Monster display. A few gnawed up goat carcased, a stand selling souvineer barf bags, and you have a chupacabra lair. The list goes on and on ... Oh, and don't forget the nightly alien light show!

As for the consumables, well that's the souvineer stand. Who would want to go to the worlds only crytozoo and not come home with a cute plush Abominal Snowman or the even more Abominal Snowwoman? How about souvineer sasquatch poo (time to turn Kuma into a cash cow)? T-shirts, lunch boxes, goat meat, the list goes on and on.

Any investors?

A flame is extinguished, but never will be forgotten

2008-05-07T07:22:00.008-04:00

Of all of the girls in my life (and there really aren't that many), none have been there longer than my Sophie. From the first time we exchanged twinkles in our eyes, until our last caress this morning, she's always been my girl. Sweet, sassy, spunky, and not at all shy at the dinner table, Sophie was always true to herself and me.

Every morning I'd go check on her, and like clock work, she'd check on me. I guess this ritual goes back to when she was pregnant and I'd check on her every morning (well every afternoon, evening and night too). They weren't my babies, but she was, and I helped raise them like they were my own. She didn't need much help, as she managed to sneak out little Boris, Natasha, Ewa, and Felix on one of the nights I wasn't by her side--I guess a gal needs her privacy. What's more amazing is that despite having an extra 50% of body mass, she managed to hold on to her bladder for astonishing periods of time while I had her on my lap massaging her sore joints and back. She was my little girl.

As her pretty daughters (they got their good looks and cute cow-lick from their mommy) grew up, a bit of jealousy and a bit of "grow up already and move out" set in, but I think she just wanted her daddy all to herself. Heck, she'd sometimes nip at or give golden showers to others, but not her daddy. Even in her old age, outliving even the most optimistic of expectations, and half of her own offspring, she remained true. This morning when I checked on my little girl, she was there waiting for me, eating her food, but no longer in this world. My little Sophie was gone.

Sophie entered my world on October 28th 2003, and left it today, May 7th, 2008. She was a little guinea pig, but her heart was bigger than a capybara. I'll always love you Sophie.

The White Death

2008-03-23T14:59:00.007-04:00

Columbus, OH doesn't tend to get a whole lot of snow (compared to Cleveland or Buffalo), and until debacles in recent years, the city lacked any kind of adequate capacity to clear the streets to allow life to go on. Now this doesn't stop forecasters, reporters, and the average Joe from spreading frightful tales of the coming "white death" every time there is a chance for snow. The only thing more comical is watching reporters with little else to do but stand near a mound of stored up rock salt and and point cameras at the sky to watch little flurries fall.

So when these accounts began again on March 6th, foretelling a snowstorm like none other this year--one with 4-6 inches of snow on Friday March 7th, well Liz and I dismissed it, and we expected the usual weather Cheerio to save Columbus. Weather Cheerio: Liz's term to describe the phenomena where bad weather--notably rain and snow, tends to encircle Columbus, but not inflict its wrath on Columbus itself. Anyway, we both went to work and expected little if any drama. We even made plans to join my friend/coworker Shawn at a hockey game Friday night. In short, we heard the boy cry wolf before.

By mid morning, it appeared that they were underestimating the amount of snow, but it likely was just coming down sooner rather than later. After lunch rumors of my employer sending non essential workers home spread, and outlying school districts closed early. Then roadways began to get all jacked up, as folks couldn't see due to the whiteout, and the snow and ice were piling up faster than any plows could address. I dare not mention the overall incompetence of Columbus drivers. It was getting ugly. I let for work early, and Liz did too. This was before they declared a Blizzard warning.

We finally realized that they weren't crying wolf, but they were still wrong. We got the predicted amount of snow well before the worse was to be unleashed. Now they were forecasting 14 inches! Not being one to look a gift hockey ticket in the mouth, Shane persuaded Liz into braving the blizzard. Oddly enough, while 99% of all businesses were closed and the county recommended staying at home, it was clear and sunny--the calm before the storm.

After the game and for another 18 hours it snowed, and it typically was heavy. At times it was hard to see through the blowing driving snow, but the boys and I found some time to play in the snow and take pictures. I even ventured out to score some pizza, but that proved rather irrational.

In the end we got about 20 inches of snow, watched a whole lot of shitty movies, and suffered from cabin fever. While I got a bit of exercise shoveling snow, we were saved with some dudes and a truck plowing our driveway to freedom. Thank god for Mr Plow!

Our Bustrip to Florida

2008-03-23T09:37:00.009-04:00

Being the starving artists we are, Liz and I opted to take the 'bus to Florida. Well we're not exactly starving, but the nuances of no longer living in sin tend to be pricey, and we didn't really take a bus. We took Skybus, which is an apt name. I suppose Rickshaw Airways was already taken.

Things started out ominously as the impending "white death" led even the nickel-and-diming Skybus to offer free rebooking. Not wanting to forgo our $20 seats or worse yet face the wrath of my mother, We sucked it up and took on the elements. This seemed rather foolhardy when we faced a couple inches of snow while dropping our pups off at their home away from home, but we managed to make it out roughly on time.

After a couple hours of being in the concession stand of the skies, we landed at an airport I up until a year ago didn't know existed. My ignorance was vindicated with seeing what looked like a recently inflated terminal followed by seeing a novel new way to pick up baggage (just walk up to a train of baggage cars and grab whatever looks nice).

After these scary discoveries, we proceeded to go to the zoo, which as you know is a pastime of ours. Before long one day let to another, and our three day stay was over. At least Liz got to enjoy the wonders of cracker life through a meal at a fish camp, as well as the haunted happenings of St Augustine through shopping for a ghost tour (there were 9 or so being pawned off on passers by). We didn't get to take any of these tours, though we doubtlessly will one day.

This was all back in February (getting caught up with my backlog of blogs), and we've since actually enjoyed a "white death", which actually had more bite than bark, but that's another blog.

Don't Call it a Comeback

2008-03-23T09:32:00.003-04:00

I never left, but I sure fell into a pit of apathy, and lo and behold there haven't been any blogs in ages. I've wanted to write, but as each week passed, I had more things I wanted to write about, and I couldn't write about C until wrote about B, and then there was the matter of A.

Oh well, enough of this nonsense, time to get started on my ABCs!

Return of an Old Friend

2008-01-24T13:01:00.000-05:00

In times like these, with turmoil all over the world, soldiers off fighting wars, and people having to say hard goodbyes--sometime forever, it often seems so unreal.

Sadly for me it was all too real. It's so hard seeing a friend disappear for so long; harder still seeing him come back in a box; and worst of all opening the box and seeing someone else. It's all so fucked up.

At least there was something in the box, as it led to closure, and ultimately new beginnings, but dammit there was a part of me that left, and while I looked for it in the box it was gone.

My consolation prize, one month of X-Box Live Gold membership. Well I can at least use it on the replacement unit they sent me, and I can go fight in wars online. God Bless America!

OMG

2008-01-24T12:47:00.000-05:00

Today I had a craving for a sandwich, and I wanted to get as close to satisfying that craving as I could without breaking the bank, so I went to Subway. A month or so ago I made the mistake of trying the Subway Feast, which was there best attempt to shy away from the wussy Jared image they created. Big mistake.

My strategy at Subway has degenerated to trying to disguise the taste of the meat type stuff as well as I can with jalapenos, banana peppers, and other fixin's. The Feast defeats this tactic by inundating one's taste buds with huge quantities of mediocre meat of various ilks. It all kinda mixes and mashes to form some dreadful ubermeat that likely will outlive us all (I really shouldn't anger it, should I?). Anyway, it was far too much work to try to pretend it was good. I vowed to never try that again.

OK, back to today. There was a huge line, filled with all of the usual Dublin cube-monkey cliche looks and styles, and lots of Bluetooth all around. I patiently waited my turn, and when I was second in line, the gal in front of me, a smallish seemingly human entity, ordered a double Feast. To which the "Sandwich Artist" gasped: "Oh My God" and offered a look of sheer disgust with a touch of terror. Other "artists" couldn't help but gawk at the meat-like monstrosity that she created. I merely tried to avoid vomiting.

I'd be dead without my pets

2008-01-11T17:55:00.000-05:00

I sit here somewhat winded, dealing with a scratchy throat, runny nose, and general not-wellness, and I'm 100% better than I was earlier in the week. OK, enough bitching, I have a point. Check this out:

Pets: Good for Your Health?

So with 10 pets (two guinea pigs, three kitty cats, a bunny, two dogs, a turtle, and a chinchilla), I should be getting the full effect, for my physical well-being AND MY SANITY!!!!

Good Lord! I'd be schizophrenic or worse without them. I'd be comatose too. Time to get more pets. No wonder Jack Hanna always looks so healthy (Steve Irwin did too, but I digress).

Get yourself a pet! Stop by and help with mine!

Let it Snow

2007-12-10T08:18:00.000-05:00

Last week it snowed here--it snowed quite a bit by Columbus, Ohio standards. Anyway, being the first snow of the year, the boys were rather excited about it all. Not wanting to pass this opportunity up, I grabbed the camera.

Stuart and 'Kuma ran around, played with each other, and ate snow (fortunately not the yellow stuff). The didn't seem to mind it at all, which is no surprise for 'Kuma, who is a St Bernard after all.

If you haven't noticed, I'm running out of things to say, so I'll just post a link to the rest of the pics and leave you with an image of Stuart barely keeping his junk above the snow.

The End of The Year

2007-12-10T07:46:00.000-05:00

Well, it's that time of year again. but I will spare you the monotony of a year end recap (well, for today at least). Last weekend, well weekend before last, as I've procrastinated a bit, Liz and I attended the year end party for her employer (rhymes with Yolanda). Now I've been to a couple of events from my employer (rhymes with Haitian Pride), though I kinda expected something much nicer, as Liz's coworkers have described this party as a prom of sorts. Anyway, enough of the buildup.

The party was at the Arena Grand, which is a newish mid-sized downtown theater. The Arena Grand has 8 screens, a large central lobby, and a couple of mezzanines above that. I half wondered how a company party could occupy all of this space, but the invite mentioned quite a few destinations (it had a New York City theme), each complete with food and activities. As we approached the garage, it was obvious that only company employees were welcome, and as we walked toward the theater, we were greeted with covered and heated walkways instead of a cold windy sidewalk. We get to the theater, and most people are dressed rather nicely, with many guys in suits and tuxes and many ladies in dresses and gowns. Some took it to the next level, with dress kilts, kimonos, and full cowboy regalia. We quickly got over our people watching, and sought out the food.

Our quest was brief, as we were bombarded with salmon hor'dourves and butternut squash shooters (yeah, there may be a NYC theme, but we're still in Ohio). We walked past a huge spread of meats and cheeses, as we were on a quest for sushi. We came, we ate, and we conquered. Damn there was a shitload of sushi there, and since we were unfashionably early, we could chow down. Afterwards, we sought out dinner. Yes, there were hor'dourves, sushi, and dinner. Dinner included all kinds of meats and mashed potatoes in martini glasses.

After dinner, came desert (chocolate fountain), and then pictures, a movie (Fred Claus), a comedy showed (we ducked out), video games (Wii), and karaoke (of course). There was a jazz band at dinner, which like the sushi was outside of the theater. Back to the video games, watching a couple in a suit and gown play Wii Tennis is a hoot. I never used a Wii before, but I got quite a workout bowling. On our way out we scored cotton candy and a Coney Island hot dog.

Needless to say it was very grand, larger than I expected, and blast. Next year I'm bringing a doggy bag.

I am a Rock God

2007-12-02T16:32:00.000-05:00

There are many things a lady can say to a man to make him all giddy, for for the purposes of this entry, I'll focus on one of them in particular "we should get Guitar Hero for Christmas".

After reaching a critical mass with whole episodes of South Park devoted to it (still awaiting the Heroine Hero game), it would be hard to resist. In fact, I've had lengthy discussions with a host of coworkers, all adults as I am--many even older than I, about Guitar Hero. Some even ponied up for Rock Band, and tackle the drums and guitar in an attempt to live out their dreams. Well for now, lets real it back in. Yes, Guitar Hero 3. Owning a 360, we opted for the easier to find Sams Club bundle (comes with the wired Guitar Hero 2 controller), and upon unwrapping it, the madness began.

At first it was pretty ugly. Getting booed off the stage sucks ass, even if it's just a game. Hell, it's even worse when it's a game, as you paid for the damn thing. Not one to get shown up, I persevered. Picking the right songs and finding my rhythm, I survived playing "Talk Dirty to Me", "Barracuda", and "School's Out"--all relatively easy for folks not in the know. I appeared to plateau, and soon I'd be washed up. Liz started to play, and she experienced the same blues, but then too she got better. I began to resign myself to musical parity or perhaps a parody of music. Then it happened.

My untapped potential got tapped, and then it was neither untapped nor potential. I was a rock god. Songs like "One", "The Number of the Beast", or even "The Devil Went Down to Georgia", bowed before me and my greatness. Now on to medium difficulty!

I'm a happy boy

2007-11-21T09:28:00.000-05:00

As I alluded to in the end of my last blog, things really ended on an up note on our vacation. The prospect of a free trip to San Diego notwithstanding, having Liz say yes to a question I've been pondering how to ask for a while really made it all so special.

No it wasn't a successful resolution of the question I asked previously, rather something a bit more substantial. I wish I could spin a yarn of some wonderfully romantic approach to that age old question, but alas I was thwarted with a bunch of circumstances that really forced me to make the most of the situation (I suppose I could have slipped the ring on her finger while she was asleep and explained that she must have forgotten about the wonderfully romantic way I asked her the night before). Anyway, Liz said yes, and I'm a happy boy.

Our First Vacation

2007-11-21T08:22:00.000-05:00

My employer (rhymes with Haitian Pride) was kind enough to send Liz and I on a trip to Walt Disney World last week, so I could officially receive a couple of professional designations (CLU, ChFC, and CASL for those non-existent people who care). To be honest the free trip was a huge part of my motivation for getting this motley assortment of letters to append at the end of my name and stamp out some of the white space on my business cards. While it would have been nice to spend all of my time with Liz and my parents (who joined us for a couple days, as they are still Floridians), I had to be fettered and tethered to the conference that went on (for IRS reasons--this is a "business" trip after all). Liz did manage to spend a lot of time at the theme parks, and oddly enough I did too (a real pimp can be at two places at once).

For the past few weeks, we both were very excited about the trip, as we haven't had a real vacation yet, and well who wouldn't be excited to go to "The Happiest Place on Earth"? All of that anticipation seemed in vane, as Liz informed me that Disneyland is "The Happiest Place on Earth", and Walt Disney World is merely "Where All of Your Dreams Come True". Damnit! If I want to dream that Disney World is the "Happiest Place on Earth", well then IT IS! I was going to be fucking happy! After being reminded that Disney World is a whole lot more expensive as an Ohioan (they have all sorts of Florida discounts that I've exploited over the years--next time I'm getting a fake Florida ID beforehand), we placed our fingers on the biometric turnstiles (EPCOT technology at work) and got happy--err had productive dreams.

We spent the better part of the first two days at EPCOT, which is dork heaven complete with animitronic dinosaurs, purple dragons, and lots of simulated culture. Liz even got to ride Test Track, which is kinda like a French chef touring a McDonalds kitchen. Oh speaking of smelly hairy types, one of the many fanciful meals we enjoyed was Liz's first encounter with es cargo. We also got to dine with the princesses in Norway, though I thought it would have been cooler to dine with the trolls, provided we weren't the main course. We also got to chow with Pooh, Tigger, and Eeyore in the Crystal Palace and some fellow dorks at the hotel (who knew there was another financial services nerd/engineer couple?) Crazy world indeed. Oh speaking of hotel, if you don't mind power outages (for "homeland security reasons") or intermittent construction that sounded like a moose getting unwanted dental work done, give Hilton a call.

Beyond EPCOT, we went to the Animal Kingdom, where we conquered Everest (really cool ride btw), brought elicit dinosaur contraband back from the past, and got to see many animals (which would seem obvious, but the first time I went there I saw more vultures eating a skunk carcass than anything I wanted to see). Too bad we missed the "Blackhawk Down" parade through Little Mogadishu. The following day we overcame Liz's dislike for free fall rides and being trapped in an Aerosmith themed roller coaster at MGM Studios. Lastly, we wrapped it all up in the Magic Kingdom, where we learned that it pays to complain to Disney employees. In between we got to witness my mom's amazing ability to use her Jedi mind tricks on the greater at the Polynesian meat feast (previously Disney Dining said they were booked full all week and suggested we try a night 180 days in advance!--that's not making my fucking dreams come true!)

Speaking of dreams coming true, I found out that it will be easy to add some more letters after my name and get a free trip to San Diego next September and something else which I'll save for my next blog.

Assorted Dining Encounters

2007-10-20T14:23:00.001-04:00

Friday, being the date night that it is, had Liz and I trekking to two different pet for stores to procure food and treats for nine of our ten pets (poor Pablo the turtle got left out). We're not content to have ten pets, rather we strive to have ten spoiled pets who all get the best. Anyway, betwixt our two pet store encounters, we dined at the finest restaurant that has all you can eat pizza for $5--CiCi's.

Liz feared the worst when she saw the full parking lot, and despite my best efforts to convince her that there were so many better places to eat there that CiCi's could be packed, she didn't believe me. She was right, as we had to wait to pay for our food, wait to find a place to sit, and wait to get anything that resembled pizza. That wasn't the worst of it, as everyone had kids--lots of kids--lots of ill behaved kids. They might as well tear up that pathetic arcade room and place a planned parenthood in there. I'm sure they'd have a line there too!

Not sated with the paltry offerings off a picked through CiCi's and the monotony of the experience, we sojourned to Culver's. Culver's is like the Valhalla for Ohioans--featuring butter burgers, milk shakes, frozen custard, and anything else to make a cardiologist's bank account swell. I like hamburgers, and cheeseburgers are even better, but do we really need to lather the buns in butter before frying them? What next buttered and fried tomatoes? Lettuce? We passed on the "hearty" burgers and focused on the frozen custard. For those of you who don't know, frozen custard is like ice cream, but it is even fattier. It's so creamy and fatty that it slides off of your tongue. It's good, but you feel like you just had a Crisco sundae (tastes much better though).

Lastly, this morning we had our usual trip to the zoo. While it was a beautiful day and the exercise is always needed, we were most excited about the "Boo at the Zoo" event. This takes the usual zoo experience and adds "animal enrichment", which means pumpkins filled with treats. For some animals that means trail mix, for others like the lion, we saw some odd furry thing getting gnawed on.

A Scary Sight

2007-09-20T18:45:00.001-04:00

Today as I was driving home I saw a city bus, all decked out in one of those hokey ads that envelop the entire bus. While the usual ads are for insurance carriers, collision center, or even the godforsaken Buckeyes, this one was a tad more alarming.

It had an ad for the local VA hospital, which apparently is in need of some psychiatrists. Yes, they have resorted to the side of a bus to diagnose and treat shell shocked soldiers who have seen god knows what, done stuff I don't want to know about, and maybe had some really fucked up shit happen to them. Oh yeah, some of these guys may have re-enlisted and had even worse shit happen the 2nd time around. I feel bad for these guys, and I suppose they should have good treatment, but more importantly, if they're in bad shape, perhaps violent, or in some post traumatic stress induced stupor, well they should really be taken care of. I'm not sure that whoever is wandering around, in need of a job, desiring nothing better than shitty government pay, and responding to this bus ad is up to the task.

Sometimes things just aren't as the seem

2007-09-07T07:12:00.000-04:00

As a kid, I watched my share of cartoons, and the amalgamation of Loony Toons creations was a part of this educational experience. Among the cartoons was the tale of Speedy Gonzales, which always seemed a little wrong. Was it the fact that Speedy was supposedly the same species as Mickey Mouse and looked nothing like him? No, it wasn't that--Pluto and Goofy as well and Daffy and Donald have prepared me for that. Was it the fact that over the top ethnic stereotypes was a part of overall premise? No Bugs Nips the Nips took that concept to new lows. Was it the depiction of Speedy's stoner cousin Slowpoke Rodriguez? Nope. I just didn't know what seemed so off--Until now!

Now it all makes sense. Speedy wasn't a Mexican mouse, rather he was a Chilean chinchilla! Sure he wore the sombrero and lived in Mexico, but he likely made a wrong turn Santiago or something, and well--maybe he just liked the look that a sombrero helped him pull off. You see, mice aren't that fast, nor are they that cute. Basically they're just snake food (I can't wait until Mickey's copyright finally lapses and some of that stuff gets animated). A clever speedy rodent with big ears and a long tail, well that's a chinchilla. I know that now that we've adopted one. Yes the old homestead has gotten more crowded. Now there are two guinea pigs, three kitty cats, a bunny, two dogs, a turtle, and a chinchilla.

Pedro is his name, and we adopted him last Saturday. He's a nocturnal fella, and well he's a bit different (who else bathes in dust?). He's started to fall for our bunny Petra, who I suppose is as close of a critter as we have in our petting zoo, but I'm old fashioned about inter species romance. I suppose the times are a changing. Now we just need to get the little fella a sombrero to round out his wardrobe.

The Dark Side of Food

2007-08-13T12:52:00.000-04:00

Lately I've been eating more than blogging--well, I tend to always eat more than blog, as it would be rather boring and my fingers would bleed down to the bone otherwise--where were we? Ah food. Well, I've had a few odd encounters and more than a few wise non-encounters with bizarre creations.

Living in Ohio, home to all things fried (including Pepsi), I'm used to encountering fried pickles, fried, Twinkies, and my favorite (really they're delicious) fried snickers, so I suppose it shouldn't be alarming that a recent commercial for Steak n' Shake mentioned its lighter healthier fare, including a sandwich with not one but two fried pieces of what they described as chicken. Speaking of Steak n' Shake, well more so speaking of having the shits, the documentation that comes with Alli mentions bringing extra undies with you everywhere just in case something leaks out:

"You may feel an urgent need to go to the bathroom. Until you have a sense of any treatment effects, it's probably a smart idea to wear dark pants, and bring a change of clothes with you to work"
"You may not usually get gassy, but it's a possibility when you take Alli. The bathroom is really the best place to go when that happens."

Now if that's not enough to help you loose a few pounds, I dunno what is. Oh, speaking of leaking out, recently they've been showing these macho older dudes riding on Harley's and shit and talking about pissing oneself. I can't recall what the things were called, but I joking call the dude diapers Hoggies.

Gosh, where is this going? Who knows--back to food. While wandering through the various midways and exhibit halls at the state fair I saw a poster advertising a roast beef sunday. Yeah, you read that correctly. Who needs, fudge, caramel, nuts, and that lone cherry when you can have mashed potatoes, gravy, meat that's claims to be beef, and cheese glorious cheese!. Maybe that have cans of whipped sour cream to spray on the top.Perhaps the only thing scarier than this is a poster I saw last week. While wandering the halls of my workplace I saw an advertisement for a lunch special for today (8/13/07--the day that will live in infamy). It mentioned that there will be sushi in the cafeteria. Next to McSushi, Nationwide cafeteria sushi is about as dubious as it gets. Oddly enough, my girlfriend designs ATVs or something like that at Honda, and they don't have sushi in the cafe--maybe that should be a damn good sign that we shouldn't have it here? Well I wandered down to check it out, and thankfully they veered clear of raw fish, but they did manage to create many combinations that should never ever be made again. Just because you can make some odd rice dish, it doesn't mean you should roll it in seaweed. They had some form of rice pilaf rolled up like sushi. WTF? At least the lady behind the counter looked passably oriental, not that that means much--some of the best sushi I've had was made by Mexicans. She probably got her degree in the sushi arts at Devry or ITT tech or OSU--they all blend into one school in my mind.

Maybe I should get my appetite back by ogling at a root beer float cupcake.

Stuart and Kuma's Big Adventure

2007-07-26T08:00:00.000-04:00

Probably the most consistent part of our lives is the existence of our two largest pets: Kuma the bovine like St Bernard and Stuart the goat in a Bassett Hound's body. Both have their charms, and I suppose we love them equally (I'll never say that under oath though), but we definitely like Kuma more. His unassuming self deprecating manner (much better than a dog with a self defecating manner) and overall need to please us makes him so much easier to deal with. Anyway, this isn't an ode to our dogs, though I suppose it could have turned up that way.

You see this past Sunday, which started like most Sundays--well except for the fact the weather was beautiful and we opted to not go to the zoo. We were just too doggone tired to do so. I had a wild and crazy night out with my friends who seemed to need to get away from it all. Being young and crazy we ended up parting ways and going home around 11:30pm. I returned home to see Liz immersed in the world of Harry Potter (I had finished earlier that afternoon). I ended up staying up with her past 3am (two nights in a row after 3am--what's next--hosting a Harry Potter rave?). Ok, back to Sunday, we pretty much lounged around the house, finding one sound reason after another not to exert ourselves. Once dinner time approached, I fired up the grill and braced myself for what was to come (having a 170lb St Bernard jump on you is never easy, but bracing oneself can keep your head above your feet). Oddly enough what was to come never did.

Hmmmmm. Where's Kuma (oddly enough I wasn't that worried Stuart was no where to be seen, as I know he is our cross to bear and will always be there)? I called for the big beast, and still I couldn't see or hear him. I looked in nearby yards for a confused pony sized dog (he probably could somehow step over the fence (not much of a leaper, but he is THAT tall). I even called for Stuart against my better judgment. Sadly it all was for not. Desperate I looked over to the gate, which was not closed!

I half expected to see an exhausted St Bernard laying under the tree in the front yard panting like crazy and a Bassett Hound head deep in our trash can, but neither was seen. After alerting Liz, I began my hunt. Knowing that a dog the size of a growing buffalo is not something that disappears stealthily I stopped the first car that roamed by our house. After trying to not look like a car jacker, I got them to roll down the window. Before I could finish asking they nodded rapidly and pointed to the corner not far away. They weren't much for words, but after seeing a giant dog a giant human likely wasn't what they wanted to see next. The hunt continued.

I ran ahead to the corner they pointed to, and there was someone watering their lawn. Only in Ohio do people stand in their front yard with a hose and manually water the grass--quite a bizarre practice, but they smiled and said you own that big thing and pointed to the next corner (which wasn't that far away, but I still couldn't see them). I ran ahead (well maybe I walked fast), and just at the next corner was some kid doing something--can't recall, but he likely thought he looked cooler than he really did. Anyway, he said what's his name and asked which dog was mine. At this point I realized I had only asked folks about Kuma, but I'm not 100% sure I was acting on my greater affection for him or my knowledge that Stuart is a curse that we must bear--most likely it was just the logical reasoning that it's 100x times easier to see a dog that's closer to the size of Mr Ed than Lassie. In any event, it wasn't long before I rounded this corner to see a happier than he should be St Bernard bounding about and a dutiful Bassett Hound sniffing a trail to god knows where.

That pretty much ended Kuma and Stuart's big adventure. I wasn't smart enough to bring collars let alone leashes, so I had to verbally wrangle them--easier said than done, but it didn't need to last for too long, as Liz appeared in her trusty CRV to serve as animal control. Thus their moments of unbridled freedom ended safely. Stuart continues to hound about the gate, and I'm sure he won't forget the endless world of smells out there. Kuma quickly became beyond exhausted after he not only walked farther than he's used to but did so jumping and galloping like a horse with hemorrhoids.

Friday Freak Show

2007-07-25T15:17:00.000-04:00

Last Friday was a day many people have been looking forward to for some time--myself included. You see many of us dorks, especially those of us who have read books bigger than Myspace for Dummies, have been waiting for the last Harry Potter book to be read--well what for now will be the last Harry Potter book--my money is on a god awful septology prequal, with a whiny Voldebrat and Jar-Jar Wizard. Let's hope I'm wrong. Anyway, the book came out; lots of people pre-ordered books; and there were huge masses of people waiting to get their book--kinda like the iPhone launch but with costumes and people getting their money's worth.

While I do enjoy a good book every now and then, and I find the Harry Potter books to be worthwhile reading material (a one way ticket to hell would be reason enough), I mostly put aside my usual wild and crazy Friday nightlife aside for a week to freak watch at Borders, and I looked forward to it. I had some pre-work to do, as one needed to get their line position during the day, and when I showed up at 9:30am (they open at 9:00am) and saw a line of people who looked a little too much like they called the sidewalks there home, I was a tad bit scared. We (Liz was just as eager, but for reading every bit as much as people watchin--perhaps even more so) got place #116 in line, which altogether didn't sound bad. We planned on showing up around 11 to claim our place in line, gawk, and get out.

We got there around our planned arrival time, but to be honest I don't know when, and the parking lot was packed. Ugghhh! The store not surprisingly was packed too. It was loud, crowded, and there were more than a few annoying people. People can be annoying due to their loudness, their tone of voice, their sense of self importance, their smell, or sometimes for just being too ugly. We experiences all of those kinds of annoyances--sometimes in just one person! It wasn't all bad, as we got to see would be Quidditch players (complete with brooms), wannabe witches and wizards in their Hogwarts garb, wannabe Malfoys and other specific characters (including someone WAY too old to pull off Tonks), and lastly folks who thought their gear for the renaissance festival needed to be wore twice this year (what no theme weddings to go to?). beyond the annoying folks and those dressed up, we encountered people who obviously haven't left home in a while (I suppose when the last Harry Potter book came out), and they were overwhelmed by it all. Some of these folks were shaking (then again they could have been that pumped about Harry Potter). Anyway it all was good fun, but we were very happy to get the hell out of there.

Of course after all that fun there's nothing else to do but head home and start reading, which we did.

I'm a Genius

2007-07-20T12:03:00.000-04:00

Few things survive through the millenniums as pyramids, and few things can be guaranteed to succeed as those that have made it through the millenniums. These two facts are relatively benign on their own, but when a genius puts them together, well you have brilliance. Bask in my glow.

While others have built pyramids in recent years, they have made them into various trivialities as casinos, arenas, or entrances to museums. These aren't structures for the ages, and all in all, they are just rubbish. Greatness demands more, form must follow function. Pyramids, the structures people visit, the things on the dollar bills (which is what it is all about--money that is), and the structures one can see from space--they were the final resting place for royalty--ney gods who walked the Earth. What made them gods? The fact that they were buried in pyramids! We all want to be divine (that's why there are so many Mormons), and we all want to walk among the gods (that's why Zeus was such a mack-daddy--no real answer why no one wants to invite Mormons into their homes), so why not sell divinity?

Sell divinity? Yeah, that is my ~~scheme~~ dream. I need some help from investors, but why not take some abandoned land, scare off the hobos and shit, and build a giant pyramid. We could use prison labor (to make it authentic, we kinda made slavery illegal, but it seems to be a good compromise) to get it done, and when done it would be a giant mausoleum. If people pay thousands to be hacked up and frozen, why wouldn't they want to be hacked up and put in Canopic jars? Want to kick it old school and take it with you? We can offer treasure rooms, space for your loyal servants (you'll have to make arrangements to kill them, as I'm not a murderer--a scoundrel yes, murderer no), and even a fancy curse if you pay enough. Given that it would be quite an addition to the cityscape, I know I could get taxpayer funding for most of it, and hell it would be quite an urban revitalization. We could open up a Valley of the Kings shopping mall, a Nile River waterpark (crocs optional), and a Cleopatra's beauty school (she wasn't really that pretty, but we all have room to improve).

Once this works, I can sell franchises in other cities. Soon there will be pyramids everywhere and a whole prison system of really buff and rather tired inmates. Gosh watching COPs has become much more practical, as it is a form of job fair. I need to get to work! Anyone want to be my HR manager?

I guess I like Craig more than that dude Tom

2007-07-18T14:10:00.000-04:00

As y'all know, I'm an avid photographer, and some might say a good one (my philosophy: if you take enough pictures, one has to be good). For the past 3+ years, I've enjoyed my trusty Panasonic FZ10, which somehow came to be known as the "Fluzi" among its owners. Now, it wasn't some cheap fluzy--it cost most of my bonus a few years ago, but it certainly paid for itself through not having to buy/develop film. It also made the film camera I got just a few months before rather unnecessary. Anyway, I got a new camera a few weeks ago, one camera to rule them all!!!

Believe it or not, this blog isn't so much about getting a new camera as it is about an odd phenomena--Craig's List. While I got my new camera along with a lens, the combination is best for nearer subjects, not the distant critters one sees at the zoo and other places I wander. I knew this getting into the whole affair planning on using the proceeds from selling my two cameras to buy an uberlens. That's where Craig's List comes in. I had sold things via the company classified ads (they're online), but I knew the bigger net I cast, the higher price I could get. I really didn't want to mess with eBay, so I instead posted a few ads on Craig's List. at first it seemed too easy, offers started pouring in, then I realized that when you filtered out morons who thought a 35mm camera was digital, scams involving mailing it to Nigeria as a wedding gift in exchange for some dubious money order, or people who got cold feet and suddenly needed to tend to sick puppies (heard that a few times), it wasn't as easy as it seemed. In the process I mentioned Craig's list to a coworker who sold a boat in a manner of hours. Frustration set in, but in the end I got rid of both cameras and a PS2. Not bad.

All in all the place really seems like quite the active marketplace, and I suppose I'll use it again (you can't beat the price). I'm still amazed how close to the price of a new item someone will pay for a used one. Geesh. Oh, for you camera buffs out there, I got a Nikon D70s (refurb--yeah I'm a cheap German bastard), 18mm - 135mm f/3.5-5.6G ED-IF AF-S lens, and a 70-300mm f/4.5 - 5.6G ED-IF AF-S VR lens.

All of my newer pics can be found here.

Where the Buffalo Roam

2007-06-20T09:53:00.000-04:00

Liz's folks decided to pay us a visit, and having seen many of the sights in California earlier this year, we didn't want Ohio to disappoint. To that end we tried to show off all that Ohio had to offer, which is well, not a whole lot, but what can you do? Anyway, among our various travels we went to The Wilds, a 10,000+ acre wildlife refuge.

Ten thousand acres of wildlife almost sounds like OSU's campus, but it's much bigger, and it even smells better. After driving the hour and a half to get there, we learned how 10,000 acres were just sitting there for giraffes, rhinos, and buffalo to move in: it was a former strip mine. Ah, the natural beauty of Ohio. Actually, you really couldn't tell the origins of it all, and it was quite relaxing to be away from it all.

We also discovered that our promised half off admission for being Columbus Zoo members was about as full of shit as the piles the rhinos left behind, but it was still worthwhile. Enough bitching, well, maybe after a smart ass remark about starting the tour by gazing upon wild asses. Perhaps giraffes would make a more dramatic kickoff to it all. Who knows.

Not quite as exotic, though still rather cool were the buffalo. I must say baby buffalo look almost cute. Almost cute enough to make me regret eating buffalo short ribs a couple days earlier (not to mention all those wings). Anyway, they like everything else really didn't mind us, and considering they were about as big as the chopped up school bus we were riding, I can't blame them for their confidence. Hell, I hardly fear a Mini approaching me as I'm strolling through a crosswalk.

We also saw rhinos and cheetahs, but we didn't really get close enough to get good pics--not that I'm complaining. I tend to have a high level of respect for things that are a lot bigger than me, especially things that are a lot bigger than buffalo. Maybe that's why I don't eat rhino. You have to draw the line somewhere you know. We did get to see some warring Sichuan Takin. I didn't get any pictures of the dominance ritual, which most dog owners call "humping". I don't know what they call it in prison, but I suppose I don't want to find out either.

Were you expecting this blog to have a point? My bad, I basically just wanted to post a bunch of pics. You can see all of them here. See ya next time!

Life's Great Mystery

2007-06-12T13:30:00.000-04:00

Sometimes I'm left with a great question that demands an answer, and now is such a time. Recently we've taken to watching the Lord of the Rings trilogy as an attempt to help us sleep. Watching these movies, in there extended versions can really lead one into a tired stupor and eventually a restful slumber. We also have been listening to the Harry Potter books on our iPods, and I always think about Star Wars. The question, if you were to want one man to have your back in a gang fight, who would it be? Gandolf, Dumbledore, or Yoda?

Yoda is a badass, like no other in that galaxy far far away way back when. He's so full of those MIDI accordions that he could start a techno polka band. When you see past all of that Jedi Jive, it's hard not to see him as the star of Little People Big World Degobah Edition. I could also see him getting tossed around by some drunk wookies in a cantina on Kashyyyk. I suppose that's better than dealing with that whiney farm boy Skywalker.

Dumbledore is pretty tough, the only dude that ~~Vol~~ He Who Must Not Be Named, is afraid of. He can take on loads of aurors without a scratch on his back, and he can have a bit of a smart ass streak to boot. Then again, he is the brother of a guy who does god knows what to goats, plus he puts up with Harry's thick skulled nature far too much.

Now Gandolf, he fought death and won. He can manipulate rulers, use wicked magic, and even whack someone on the head as needed. He is wise beyond anyone's imagination, and he isn't afraid to get down and dirty. Moreover, he also can shave that beard and bust out that groovy purple helmet and bend metal and shit. He could have gotten Luke's X-wing out of the swamp; he could make car's fly; and he could kick some serious ass. Gandolf is who I'd want to have my back.

I'm a dork.

The Irony of all Ironies

2007-06-12T13:15:00.000-04:00

I can't believe I haven't written about this before, but i suppose it was out of a bit of kindness that I refrained from telling this tale. Looking back, it's really just a good laugh.

Last year, in an attempt to not appear to be the old man I am, I relented to Liz's persuasion to get around to reading those Harry Potter books that are so popular with the younger folks these days. I had managed to work my way through five of the books, with only one left to go (there were only six written at the time), and I knew that it wouldn't be too long until I managed to finish that one as well. Liz was at her PC, doing what she often does, perusing through the wonderful web of Harry Potter sites, forums, blogs, and other stuff crafted by folks with way too much free time. I sat, amusing myself with her quest, likely with thoughts wandering about my mind about god knows what. Anyway, I sat there and heard Liz giving an account of some jerk posting a spoiler about the end of book six on a person's blog, hours after the book was released. This person was a jerk because, few people could have read the whole book by then, and they should have knew better.

The irony was that Liz revealed the spoiler in her account, complaining about this dude's insensitivity, she told me Dumbledore was dead, knowing I hadn't read book 6. She inadvertently did the same thing the jerk did, but unlike him, she didn't mean any harm, and I laughed then as I do now. It was just too funny.

Ahoy Matee

2007-06-06T13:16:00.000-04:00

I have written in times past about my odd liking for less than popular sports, whether curling, Formula 1, World Cup, and America's Cup, and now after enjoying the mundane strategy of Curling in 2006 and the thrilling excitement of World Cup later that year I have the good fortune of looking forward to another America's Cup.

The America's Cup is the oldest trophy in sports, and I've enjoyed watching the feats of strategy, seamanship, and awesome bits of engineering that goes into building these multi-million dollar dollar vessels (one team spent $200,000,000 in a losing effort this year) for over twenty years. I know few people know about the America's Cup, fewer still even know its going on, or what channel to watch it on, and I imagine more than a few folks would argue that yachting isn't a sport. I guess I have a foreign soul that longs for things forgotten by most Americans, after all, a billion people, few of which are Americans, watch the America's Cup races.

Gateway to the West and the Beginnings of a Jihad

2007-05-30T13:38:00.000-04:00

This past weekend, Memorial Day weekend for those of you who may have missed out on it, was an occasion where Liz and I packed our bags and headed west. Not as far west as we had done for MLK weekend, but certainly enough to provide a pleasant change of scenery. The destination this time was St Louis, where our friend Michelle calls home.

Our journey out there was rather uneventful at first, with our driving past a 198 foot tall monstrosity of a cross in F'ingham being the only thing of note. Sadly it wouldn't remain that way for long, as we drove past two cows getting it on (well a cow and a bull). It's not as cool as it sounds, rather disturbing. Besides that, we pretty much could have forgotten the trip (dealing with the idiocy of Indiana gas stations is another matter).

So we get there, make our greetings, relaxed, hung out, and enjoyed one-another's company. We enjoyed their hospitality as well as the chance to meet Michelle's husband and sister. Being Memorial Day weekend, there was plenty of stuff to do, including a Greek Festival at an Orthodox Church, which also offered tours. Being that we all like learning new things and looking at different things, we took the tour. It started well enough, with an Orthodox Church architecture 101 as a beginning. We then we tricked into going church proper and grabbing a seat. The friendly approachable deacon type fella was replaced by an incredibly passionate priest, who thought we should pray as much as we breath. Finally, they brought in a recent convert to seal the deal, a former Lutheran minister no less. It didn't take long for him to basically say the world, with exception of the Orthodox Church, was going to hell in a hand basket. He proceeded to get into a spat with those who had the misfortune to sit behind us (ironically a former Orthodox Christian turned Lutheran--who could have asked for more?). We found a way to sneak out and make our exit. Good people watching, but the baklava was better.

Knowing us, it shouldn't be a shocker that we went to the zoo in St Louis (if nothing else the pictures should have been a clue). The zoo there is huge and free. Ironically enough, even given the free nature of it all, it seemed less crowded than the zoo here in Columbus. It was nice to see different animals and different environments. The zoo was in a large park, which also had an art museum and some space for festivals and performances. Both were used, with an interesting mash-up of a Shakespeare festival and a African Art show.. I'll let you picture it all.

Musings of a Peoplewatcher

2007-05-20T10:11:00.000-04:00

One of the rules I tend to live by is thou shall not blog about work, and fortunately I have not only been able to live by it (save for a few bring your brats to work days), but I also still have a job. Anyway with a lead in like this, you know where we're going.

Well the other day my boss' boss' boss took me and a few others to lunch. She was also kind enough to drive, and her vehicle likely was the only one equipped to handle us five folks. Being taller than tall, I tend to be given the option to ride up front, which past experiences have always led me to take advantage of. I quickly hop in the front seat while four people, three with newborn babies and the fourth with young grandkids, tried to remove a child seat--you know, the kind that claim to be easy to remove. It took a good five plus minutes, and all along I couldn't help but think to myself, gee I could probably figure it out in five seconds and remove it in five more. the pleasure of watching it was so much more fun than any instant gratification of accomplishing the task.

We Live in a Sick Twisted World

2007-05-09T16:23:00.000-04:00

Ok, that's nothing new. Really, we all kinda already knew this, but there are some times when it becomes painfully obvious. Never is it more clear to me than when I see something suggesting that I eat it or worse yet, watching it eat it's own. Suicide and cannibalism, two disturbing words, and two even more disturbing concepts.

What am I talking about? M&Ms suggesting you eat M&Ms or watching them eat their own. Worse yet, a trip to the annual rib festival is loaded with imagery of pigs, often angry or deranged, eating their own and suggesting that you do the same.

Apparently I'm not the only one bothered by this, as their is a blog devoted to circumstances like this.

Now those Chick-fil-A cows have it right. They are what's right with this world.

Day of the (almost) Dead

2007-05-01T15:03:00.000-04:00

Today I decided to be a good boy and do a bit of grocery shopping on my lunch break, so I could cook a nice dinner for my boo tonight. Being a bit of a meat snob, I tend to frequent only a couple of places to get ground up bits of cow and other critters, so I decided to go to The Andersons. The Andersons is a general store, kinda like one would find in the old west, but modernized to be more like a less Ozarky version of Walmart. Anyway they have good meat, and I could grab everything else I needed.

As I pulled in the parking lot, I noticed something was odd. No it wasn't the giant tent in the parking lot (some tool sale rather than Cirque de Soleil), rather the odd ratio of Cadillacs to other hoopties jumped to my mind. Being ever the optimist, I assumed there must have been some sale on pimp canes or purple velvet hats. Much to my horror, the store was packed with old people. Slow moving, wandering, almost zombified old people. Women in silly hats and men in shorts filled my eyes while a static hum of the feedback hearing aids filled my ears. Dudes wearing prescription socks (lord knows you're up shit's creek when the best tool a doctor has to treat your heart are socks) and lots of chick who needed prescription bras (an old lady might bruise their knees with those sad sagging not-so-fun bags) filled the aisles, as I tried to cut through traffic to get to the butcher. When I got their I saw more of the Geritol set holding lists, and it occurred to me that it was not only the first of the month, but also Tuesday--senior day. It was a perfect storm, and the shit was coming down on me.

My well intentioned trip to the store sucked ass, and it only got worse when I realized that they wheel out their chronologically gifted employees to work the registers on days like this. Fuck they should have given me a 20% discount for being young. When I get old I'm not going to be some slow moving zombie who clogs the aisles, even if I have to smoke crack to give me that added bit of pick-me-up I need. This will never happen to me!

Bob Barker is a Prophet

2007-04-26T08:59:00.000-04:00

Everyone should be spayed and/or neutered. If you guessed today is take your brat to work day, give yourself a pat on the back. I'm no marketing guru, but Trojan man should make appearances all over the country today, at workplaces inundated with bright-eyed, sometimes bushy-tailed little tykes, running around, getting in my way, and otherwise making it hard to do my job.

Now don't get me wrong, it's not so much them stopping me from working that makes it a living hell, rather the fact that they stop me from working AND make it hard to enjoy it. Nothing bugs a slacker more than not getting any satisfaction from loitering.

What's odd is I had forgotten that today was the day, despite dreading it all week, but subconsciously I was really dreading heading in today. I had chalked it up to dreary weather and a desire to crawl back into bed, but now I know better, and I should have just followed my instincts, as last year was no better.

Oh well, at least yesterday was a good day, and maybe I'll survive to tomorrow. If not, it has been a good life--until today.

I don't really have much to write about, but ...

2007-04-23T12:26:00.000-04:00

I'll ramble on anyway. Recently the most prevalent matter for discussion in my life has been work, and I know better than to write about that. I suppose I could do the typical Ohio thing and write about the weather, but I suppose I could only do when I have reason to complain, and that ain't now. I did discover today that I could listen to one song in the time it takes to pull out of my garage, drive to work, and make my way upstairs and to my desk--the song is appropriately named Autobahn (if you've ever driven with me you'd know why it can be appropriate). Speaking of driving, last week my girl Ashley got banged up Old Testament style, she was stoned. Fortunately not to death, but it still sucks.

Liz and I have been hitting the theaters, with movies ranging from borderline suckdom to downright brilliant (Hot Fuzz). We've also discovered a pretty decent place to grab some chow, BJ's Brewhouse (where ironically enough they don't brew anything). Their signature dish, the Pizzookie, implies it's a mashing of pizza and a cookie, but it's not quite as good as that. Don't get me wrong it's delicious, but it's like when a dude describes a chick as a goddess, unless she's truly divine, and I mean able to shoot lightning bolts out of her fingers and all that omnipotent shit (none of that weak-ass demigod BS either), it's all hyperbole. Anyway, the Pizzookie is real good, just not pizza * cookie good. I guess that's it. I told you I didn't have much to write about.

Peace Out Homies!

Time to get that can of whoop-ass back off the shelf

2007-04-02T16:51:00.000-04:00

Well, once again it is time for those nutty Buckeyes to face a reality check, and sadly once again it will have to come from my Florida Gators. Looking back to December, there was a lot of talk on the TV, the radio, and most annoyingly everywhere else up here about how Ohio State was gonna kick Florida's ass in basketball, then again for the national championship in football. For the record Florida won by 26 points in basketball. Well, that didn't really put a damper on all the talk that they'd kick Florida's ass in football for the championship. For the record Florida won by 27 points in football.

Well tonight Florida an Ohio State will meet again for a national championship, and they will meet again in basketball, as it is the basketball championship. Will the Gators win by 28 tonight? Who knows, and they may even lose--I seriously doubt that, but I won't be as arrogant as Bubba Buckeye, who incidentally seems very quiet today. That swagger was absent all day at work, and I think that a bit of humble pie has been consumed. I hope it stays that way, and worst case scenario, I know any Buckeye fan would trade 10 basketball championships for one in football. We already won that one.

Go Gators!

I hate you fat--sweaty dude with the lawnmower

2007-04-02T16:40:00.001-04:00

This afternoon while cruising home, I had the unfortunate experience of seeing some big fat dude with his gratuitous plumber butt transitioning to his sweaty hairy back. While this was horrifying, it wasn't for the aforementioned reasons, ney it was what he was doing. Mowing his fucking lawn.

Goddamn Ohioans love their lawns too damn much, and they seem to love all of the crap that makes having a lawn suck more than anything. They love to mow; they love to fertilize; the love to weed. For a city with so many Mexicans, you'll fine nothing more futile than looking for a Mexican gardener, as there are none. Everyone loves to garden too much to pay someone a few pesos to do it for them.

Granted, Liz has suggested that we hire someone to mow the lawn, but somehow I'd feel ashamed to do it. Not so much because no one here does it, as I'm growing tired of some of the neuroses of Ohioan,s no, I'd have a hard time dealing with the fact that my mother or father mows the yard in the Florida heat with twice the yard. Until I can put them in a home somewhere, I will just do my duties and mow my lawn, but I'll be damned if I will do it just because I can. You Ohioans are sick--sick lawn mowing bastards!

I hate you fat sweaty dude with the lawnmower

2007-04-02T16:40:00.000-04:00

Me and my furry friends

2007-03-25T14:51:00.000-04:00

After a few months of talking about it, Liz and I finally took the plunge and became members of the Columbus Zoo last weekend. Basically it means we can go to the zoo whenever we want, which is quite a luxury to have. For those of you outside of Columbus and those here who haven't gotten around to going, the zoo here is very nice, and it definitely gives us a good reason to get some exercise and get out of our zoo.

I've written about our trip there last summer, but it really is a much better experience when it isn't so crowded. Sadly our first two visits saw the sparsity extend to the animal population, but our visit yesterday had many critters out and about. It really is quite nice to just stand and watch a bear lay on a log, a weird, but really cool looking goat thing stand like the bad--ass he is, or even partake in the fun that is the petting zoo (the creepy inbred sheep with scary overbite excluded--someone with a sense of humor called that clan of sheep the Romanovs).

At this point I've kinda ran out of things to say (about the zoo at least), and I'm rambling on so I can put another picture in. BTW, there are many more pictures on our online photo archive (over 7000 pictures and growing).

A Sheep in Wolf's Clothing Part II

2007-03-22T15:09:00.000-04:00

Last week or whenever it was I commented about the hidden menace of Christian radio in disguise. Well this week I found out that there is an even more popular sheep in wolf's clothing on none other than American Idol. You see Chris Sligh, the nerdy mop headed dude is more deacon than dork. He's a former student at none other than Bob Jones University. Yes THAT Bob Jones university, the one even Billy Graham and President Bush (neither known for liberal views) distanced themselves from. Well Graham was practically disowned by Bob Jones because he actually had the nerve to talk with Catholics. You see Bob Jones Jr thinks this of Catholicism:

"not another Christian denomination. It is a satanic counterfeit, an ecclesiastic tyranny over the souls of men....It is the old harlot of the book of the Revelation—'the Mother of Harlots.'"

Well things are getting a bit more reasonable at Bob Jones, as they will allow interracial couples since 2000. Yes folks, it wasn't until 2000 that it was OK. Blacks weren't welcome at all until the 70's, and that was only due to tax implications (well money does come before bigotry).

Here are some of their enlightened rules:

Freshman and sophomore residence hall students must sign out before leaving campus; students with junior and senior privileges may leave without signing out between 7 a.m. and 7 p.m.. Curfew is at 10:25 p.m., and residence hall students must be in their own rooms and quiet at 11 p.m. Lights must be out by midnight.
Each student is provided with a filtered e-mail account. Using unfiltered Internet access via computer, mobile phone, or satellite phone is prohibited for residence hall students. The university provides content-filtered Internet access for student use that blocks pornography, "lurid violence," racial hate, and other "objectionable content."
DVD/VCRs are not allowed in residence halls; DVD players on computers cannot be used for watching films. Televisions may be used only as monitors to play video games.
Students are forbidden to attend movie theaters or, when visiting local homes, to watch any films with a rating higher than a G rating. Residence hall students are not permitted to play, use, or own video games that are rated T, M, or Ao or that include profanity, sensual or suggestive dress, rock music, graphic violence, or demonic themes.
Students may not listen to country, jazz, New Age, rock, rap, or contemporary Christian music.
Residence hall students are permitted to work off-campus only until 10:25 p.m. on weekdays and midnight on weekends, and students may not solicit door-to-door without a retail license or permission from the dean of students.
The University will not allow anything displaying the logos of Abercrombie & Fitch or its subsidiary Hollister to be "worn, carried, or displayed" on campus even if the logos are covered because these companies have "shown an unusual degree of antagonism to the name of Christ and an unusual display of wickedness in their promotions."

I am an Enabler

2007-03-22T14:52:00.000-04:00

For those of you who don't know, Liz is straight edge, and I was raised as a German Catholic. Needless to say there is a pretty big difference in certain aspects of our lives, but all in all we get along pretty well. When we first met, I had my two kids who pretty much would get wasted on whatever I'd give them, including one who was pretty much a stoner. She had her two kids, who had never done any illicit substances (they had their vices, mostly a punk-like tendency for destruction).

We'd never talked about our parenting views, but I supposed all was well. Being inspired by Bradgelina we adopted an orphan of our own. He followed in his mother's straight edge life, and all was well. My two kids had their stashes, but our latest addition really seamed to have made a choice to abstain.

Well a few days ago we were at the store, and Liz saw something to help get our little druggies their fix (kinda like a bong, only it involved a modest amount of activity). We bought it, and I loaded it up with some of the finest green goodness. Little did I know that within the next few days, not only did my two life long users and abusers get their fix, but our latest addition as well. He's fallen to the dark side, with his distant glazed over look and general lethargy. I hope his mommy can forgive me and continue to love him. Poor kitty just couldn't say no.

Scary--ney, scarier than scary

2007-03-19T10:22:00.000-04:00

What's scarier than a schizophrenic, a schizophrenic who's been brainwashed into being well through the power of Jesus.

Longtime readers recall I've written about the said state of schizophrenics before, and BTW, let me just pat myself on the back for being able to spell it correctly the first time!!!! More recent readers have read about the Jesusification of the FM dial. Well, imagine being schizophrenic, bipolar, severely depressed, or worse and pulling into Walgreens to get you happy pills or whatnot. As you pull in, you drive by the Jesus Outreach Center with a scrolling marquee, telling you that they can treat your mental ailments, which they listed in detail. Why pay good money for medicine, when you can just stop by and pray away your mental illness.

Let me tell you my deranged friends, listen to your neighbors dog, the voices in your head, even the advice Jerry Springer gives at the end of his show--anything instead of the marquee at the outreach center. There are enough crazy Christians out there--we don't need any more.

If All Else Fails, There's Always Starbucks

2007-03-17T16:36:00.000-04:00

If I recall correctly that was the motto of the Department of History at the University of Florida, and if it wasn't, well it should have been. Worry not, things are going well at work, so well we even got a bonus--not too much, otherwise I'd be writing about far cooler stuff--say maybe a new digital SLR.

Anyway, this is going somewhere ... yeah, with my bonus, I got Liz and I a new friend. No I didn't buy some slave on the internet, though having someone to clean the house, shovel the driveway, and amuse the dogs would be nice, but I did get a helper. His name is Frank. Unlike the somewhat creepy bunny dude in Donnie Darko, he's rather friendly looking and has a clear purpose.

Well, here's Frank, why is he called Frank, well he's the FrancisFrancis X5, and I'm not calling anything Francis, so we decided on Frank. I'm pretty much fueled on caffeine, hell I already had four different coffee making apparatuses (including another espresso machine), and I've been wanting a real espresso machine for a while. Deciding that I should get something fun with my bonus I decided I should splurge on an espresso machine. Given that Liz and I have started to amass a small collection of handsome appliances (and the great deal Illy has on these things), I decided to get an extra perdy machine.

So, in the days that have passed since Frank has stormed into our life, I've done what I do best, and learned everything there is to know about him and making espresso (lattes, cappuccinos, and other drinks too). There are quite a few interesting resources, ranging from geeks to champion baristas and everything in between. Now i just need a home still to help me unwind at the end of the day.

A Sheep in Wolf's Clothing

2007-03-12T13:50:00.000-04:00

Feeling deceived is about the worst feeling in the world (well that and realizing that you really shouldn't have drank that water and Montezuma will be inflicting his revenge). Anyway, I and many other central Ohioans (those who say "pop" instead of "soda" and "mmmmmmmmmbye" instead of "goodbye" or simply "bye"), and it's the worst kind of deception. Far worse than a wolf in sheep's clothing (for after all the poor wolf must eat) is the sheep in wolf's clothing. The Christian guerrillas of the world, damn you to hell!

The story starts like many others, Liz and I were driving in my humble steed, Ashley, and we were surfing the radio dial for something to listen to (someone tends to tire of my iPod selections), and we stumbled upon 88.7, an odd frequency for anything other than NPR, college radio, or Christian radio. What we heard wasn't NPR, nor was it Christian radio. We didn't seem to hear any DJs or commercials, and the music was kinda good. Nothing was familiar and nothing was great, but it always seemed like there could be something good coming up, and neither one of us were playing too close of attention. Over the coming days we each listened separately for clues to the stations origins, and I heard them call themselves Radio U. Well, there we had it--a college station. Cool. We were a little skeptical still, as we were expecting an eclectic mix of formats and DJs, which is more typical of smaller college stations.

No, it was not cool. Liz listened a bit, and she seemed to here themes that were very Christian, and she was getting suspicious. I checked out their website, which revealed that they were owned by Spirit Communications, and they were all about anti-drug and anti-violence music (not all that bad in and of itself). Reading further I saw that they work with a local prayer line. Well damnit, they're Christians in hiding, pretending to be cool. Listening further, we heard one of the DJs bust out into a sermon.

Afterward I felt dirty--dirty and used.

Spring Has Sprung

2007-03-12T13:24:00.000-04:00

The days are getting longer, the snow has melted, the clocks have sprung forward, and I see 70 degrees on the forecast! I know the warmth will be short lived (the longer days and daylight savings are here to stay though), and soon I'll be able to see living ground hogs (I've seen one, but he appears to be terminally asleep in the middle of an onramp). More than anything, the ruffling sound of paper brackets with everyone's picks for the tournament reassures me that spring is right around the corner. Tonight we'll fire up the barbecue, and it won't be long before we can start going to the zoo (not just the one at home).

It's that time of year

2007-02-26T09:20:00.000-05:00

I suppose there are a few THAT time of the years, but I digress. Now is the time of the Lenten fish fry, crowded seafood restaurants (only on Fridays), and mysterious 'fish' offerings at places like Arby's, Wendy's, and even KFC. BTW, KFC is so worried about how bad those things are, that they're seeking a blessing by the Pope. Maybe they should have tried Mother Teresa, as it would take a miracle to make such a sandwich edible. I suppose this phenomenon occurs everywhere, but it is much more pronounced in Ohio than it ever was in Florida.

Growing up Catholic in Florida, Lent wasn't anything real special, heck I think I've observed Lent more than my folks, even in recent years. I suppose the prevailing availability of seafood made it kinda moot, but here in Ohio, it's practically an event. Bingo halls are being cleared out, and beer battered fish is being consumed hand over fist, then it's bingo time (hey Jesus didn't give up bingo, did he?). Anyway, I find it all amusing (unless it's frightening, such as the KFC 'fish'). Speaking of fish, even my junk yard cat, who would eat just about anything, won't touch a Fillet o' Fish, which oddly enough isn't a fillet, and perhaps is not fish.

I always ponder why others don't jump in. Come on PETA, quit handing out brochures with tortured animals and showing videos of cruel slaughters at gallery hop, all they ever do is get sickos off. Meat eaters will always eat meat. That's why steakhouses aren't even afraid to put big old cow or buffalo heads on the wall. They could put mounted dog heads up, and we'd still eat meat. Why not sponsor some low key veggie nights or hand out some decent recipes for those of us who don't like hummus or tofu? Bring a truck of corn up from Mexico or maybe fry some zucchini. Oh, while you're at it, make sure everyone involved bathes--with real soap. Also, NO PATCHOULI!!!

Thawing out

2007-02-20T17:36:00.000-05:00

Now that the snow has begun melting, the abominable snowman has retreated, and the thermometer has stabilized in the positive realm, I feel its safe the reflect upon the days that have passed. They've brought two debilitating snow storms, about a foot of snow, lots of ice, and way too much local weather coverage. They've brought images of silly Ohioans mowing their snow with snow blowers (folks here love to mow their yards WAY too much), memories of snow plows trapped in the snow, and visions of puppies playing in the snow.

Perhaps one of the most memorable moments was on Valentines Day, where upon returning home from a romantic meal at Smokey Bones (nothing says love like ribs and chicken), we were slowly getting trapped in the snow that inundated our driveway. Being the chivalrous fella I am, I hopped out to shovel snow out of the way, but before I could realize how futile that effort would be, I was greeted by two of our friends from the south (Mexico, not Kentucky), who appeared out of nowhere. We quickly got past the language barrier, and upon some negotiation, which involved converting prices into Pesos, so they could determine if it was worth their while, we agreed upon a price. What was almost as remarkable as their sudden appearance was the arrival of two more helpers. In less than five minutes, they cleared all of the snow and more importantly ice, from the way of the garage, helped push the car in, and began work on the rest of the driveway. When I looked out the window ten minutes later, they were gone, as was the snow and ice on the driveway--six inches of snow and about an inch of ice, all for less than the price my coworkers paid to replace their broken snow shovels from their failed efforts. Rome wasn't built in a day, but I'm damn sure Mexico City was.

Bring the llama pelt

2007-02-05T09:49:00.000-05:00

Those four words, "bring the llama pelt" were the last four words in an email I just reread, and as usual there is a story to be told. You see back in my younger days, I often frequented a variety of thrift stores, and I would often come upon some rather interesting items (I wouldn't necessarily rely upon these places for my usual wardrobe, but every now and then you need something special). Well, once I found just that, and it came in the form of a llama pelt fashioned into a vest. Now, I'm no Jim Tressel, but even he'd be cool with a llama fur vest, and once day I decided to liven things up at College Bowl practice. The team often needed an added bit of energy by Wednesday night, and a good conversation piece (to break the monotony of endless arguments over Brian Boitano's sexuality), and showing up wearing a llama vest (bare chested below) seemed like a sound idea.

Well, it worked, and the stroll from the parking lot to the union (and through the union) was quite an event. My favorite part was being stopped by a Latin American lady, who immediately recognized it as being llama and informed me that it was very good quality. I was rather proud of my purchase. Sadly it's been lost over the years, and now I must troll ebay for a replacement.

Fuck it's cold

2007-02-05T09:07:00.000-05:00

For all of you outside the metro C-bus area, I just wanted to let you know it's fucking cold here. I never thought one could get brain freeze from it being so cold outside, but believe me, it happens. Last night I had to stand outside to encourage our pups to pea (thanks 'Kuma), and I didn't feel right until this morning, then I had to go back outside to go to work. My car said -20, which sounds horrible, but it really was "only" -4 (and it's a dry cold), since it only tells you the temp in Celsius, which actually lets me impress the ladies with my multiple by nine, divide by five, and add thirty-two skillz. The friendly neighborhood video billboard just said N/A for the temp. I guess fucking cold would be too many characters.

The Curse of Thai Beef

2007-01-29T13:37:00.000-05:00

On Friday, I made a commitment to stave off an impending epidemic, so Saturday Liz and I were set to order take out from our favorite Chinese restaurant. We were rather horrified to find that they were closed for a vacation, so suddenly we were faced with the dilemma of not knowing where our next meal would come from. Trying to be a savior, I suggested the Thai place we've tried going to before only to find it closed at the time (between lunch and dinner). Having found a solution, I felt rather good about myself.

When we got there, we were pleasantly surprised with the decor, and the menu seemed to be equally delightful. We decided on some items to dine upon, including an appetizer. The appetizer was excellent, complete with perfectly cooked spring rolls (everything was fried just right). We also enjoyed the Thai iced tea and Thai iced coffee. All seemed to be going rather well, until...the SMELL!!!

The waiter brought the food out, and something smelled bad, real bad. I couldn't figure out where the smell came from, but it reeked of stinky nasty unhealthy feet. I imagine boots worn by a hobo for a month or two straight might be close to that smell. Note that people typically don't dine within close proximity to a bum's feet. This fact hit Liz hardest, as it was her entree that smelled so bad; more specifically, the beef in her entree. I suppose the hodge podge of interesting sounding one syllable words she uttered as a part of her order must have translated to Foot Stink Beef. She eventually needed to request a box, just to seal in the stank as she ate some rice and a part of my entree, which was very good. I guess we can not relate to that old woman who lived in a shoe.

I'm doing my part

2007-01-26T13:53:00.000-05:00

Today at work I noticed a poster by the elevator from the Mid-Ohio food bank, which said (among other things):

Over 1.8 million Ohioans don't know where their next meal will come from

I re-read that trying to figure out its significance, as well as understand how food can collect interest at a bank (I tend to only get mold, which isn't exactly the kind of returns I look for). Anyway, these bankers seem rather concerned at the lack of planning, so I emailed Liz to verify what we will be eating. Based on that and the restaurant we discussed last night, I think I know where we will be eating tonight.

Fuck they have THREE locations! Where will we go? Where will OUR next meal come from. Damnit!!!! Over 1,200,002 Ohioans won't know where their next meal will come from. We need to get on top of this people. We'll get our act together, you too! Make plans!!!

No need to compete for 2007 Nobel Prizes

2007-01-26T13:48:00.000-05:00

Every once in a while you bask in the glory of pure genius (usually someone else genius, but bask nonetheless), anyway, today is such a day:

Scientist develops caffeinated doughnuts

I could develop cold fusion, room temperature superconductors, or figure out how to cleanse Lindsey Lohan's liver, but it would pale in comparison to this moment of brilliance. Hell, I'm sure the great minds who will accomplish those feats will do so using the power of caffeinated doughnuts (or even donuts), as will the person who cures cancer, solves world hunger, and unravels the mysteries of SPAM.

Perhaps only Guinness (beer that is a meal) can match this achievement.

Help our friends out west

2007-01-25T09:31:00.000-05:00

This morning while I was disbursing salt on the driveway and sidewalks as snow floated down, I thought, as I often do, about the less fortunate (being an ordained minister it's my calling to be compassionate and concerned, that's why I watch so much COPs). Anyway, thinking back to my last entry, I couldn't help wondering if there was anything I could do to help the people of California with their snow/ice mitigating technology. You see we Ohioans have discovered that salt dramatically lowers the melting point of water, thus making less snow and ice (snow and ice are in fact water). Unfortunately, California seems to be close the technology (relying upon sand), but the real solution is beyond their grasp.

This is where we can come in. Remember after Katrina when we forgot that most of Louisiana and Mississippi is full of inbreds and other backward folks and held food drives and shit (I think a liquor drive would have been better received though)? Well we should have a salt drive. We can collect a bunch of the salty goodness and ship it out west. Maybe in time they'll understand how to use it, and all will be well (they'll have to figure out what to do with all that fucking sand). So is everyone ready to pitch in?

We came, we saw, we took pictures (finally over)

2007-01-22T10:16:00.000-05:00

Before long it was time to depart SoCal and head back to Sacramento. We decided to take a detour via San Francisco to make our trip all that much more interesting. Mother nature almost made us make a detour of her own, but we were able to go as planned via I-5--unfortunately all was not well there. You see they had quite a bit of snow (a few inches, which might as well be a few feet in Southern California). Folks there just don't know how to handle snow. When I say that, I'm not just speaking of the average Joe, as the folks taking care of the roads appear clueless too. Rather than use something sensible, such as salt (likely plentiful too--they have that big ass ocean to get some from) , they used the only thing that is more plentiful--sand! While salt and sand may appear similar at first, only one of the two helps melt ice/snow, and they chose the wrong one! So to make things safer (both from the snow/ice and the man made obstacle: that stupid sand), they insist on escorting the cars at a ridiculously slow speed to make it all safe and retarded. I officially started to miss Ohio.

Spending an afternoon in San Francisco certainly falls short of seeing it all, but we packed quite a bit in. I got to see the Golden Gate Bridge, Alcatraz, and we ate at Fisherman's Wharf. My quest for Rice A Roni went unfulfilled, but we enjoyed some great seafood with nice views.

Speaking of views, we got to spend a while admiring the wonderful characters that were at Pier 39. These included so many interesting people that Liz had to refrain from commenting to keep her voice in check, and there were the sea lions too. Even if I did get some Rice a Roni, the highlight still would have been the Sea Lions. They were huddled onto a few floating docks--packed almost like refugees (they likely smelled better though). These big fellas seemed to enjoy the sun and the tourists. Whenever a boat would pass, they would stand at attention and great the guests with a loud chorus and many waves. Every once in a while one of the sea lions would want to crawl on top of the others, which would create quite the ruckus.

The only other memorable moment of note after returning from San Francisco was flipper boy, a dude who wore a tank top that would qualify as long sleeves, since his hands were attached to his shoulder. Miraculously, we were able to watch him eat ice cream and watch others watch him eat ice cream (which was even more entertaining). Sadly no pictures.

California was interesting, enjoyable, and a nice diversion from our day to day life, but we were very glad to be going home after a week. Thankfully everyone was safe and sound when we got home. We're definitely going back (Liz's parents newfound liking of me would cease if we never went back), and hopefully we can spend more time towards to top half of the state, perhaps touring wine country as well.

We came, we saw, we took pictures (continued again)

2007-01-22T09:11:00.000-05:00

After our in Monterey, we departed on our journey to the southern part of the state, driving near and occasionally on the Pacific coast. Our destination was Valencia, and we were gonna chill with Liz's friend, who had us parading around in a police car in our last encounter. This encounter would lack a police element, but it still was quite entertaining.

The highlight of the stay in SoCal was to be whale watching off of the Channel Islands, but people watching stole the show. While on a late night quest for food, which was rather fruitless in sleepy Valencia, we stopped to fuel up Erika's Saab. Liz and I waited in the car, admiring the Saabyness of Erika's ride while she fueled up. Before long the overhead lights were eclipsed from our view and shadows fell upon us. All we could see out the passenger side was this giant monstrosity of a truck. Someone had put four or five foot tall tires on their shiny new Toyota truck. Growing up in the land of Skynard, I've seen my share of jacked up trucks, but this one may be the only foreign truck I've seen with such, uhhh...redneckenss. The irony is that when the truck opened, out came this midget dude trying to look all hard core and tough. He had this stern and absolutely ridiculous tough guy look on his face as he hopped out. The dude went in to get something (extra small condoms perhaps), and his chick pumped gas. She was no giant either, and she held the gas nozzle over her head to fill the truck with gas. At this point Erika was done fueling, but we all wanted to watch the dude get in, so we pulled out of the station but remained nearby. The dude reached high over his head, opened the door, grasped the door and the seat, and pulled himself up and in like a gymnast. I don't know how his shorty got in, but I'm guessing it wasn't very lady like.

The whale watching was awesome too, but perhaps not as memorable as watching midget dude hop into his truck. We got to see seals, dolphins, and yes whales. Like Gilligan's Island the three hour tour was extended a bit, but fortunately only to four hours. The scenery was awesome too: water, islands, the views of the coast. Oddly enough big lumbering gray whales can be hard to photograph, but we got to see them, which was cool. For me the highlight was the dolphins, as they were so playful and at ease with the boat, often jumping in and out of the wake of the vessel. The numbers were quite impressive too.

We did have some fun people watching on the boat, as there were the usual 'bow dorks' riding up front in the breeze and waves of an impending storm. Each dude had to be as macho as the other and tough it out, despite the fact that the 40 degree weather, high winds, and the vessel going into the wind doubtlessly had their junk freezing to the point of damage. There were also quite a few green faced travelers queasy from the choppy seas. A few people prayed, and the rest just took pills. We were unaffected (no prayers or pills needed), and we went up the coast to Santa Barbara for great seafood and awesome (and highly unusual) sushi.

We came, we saw, we took pictures (continued)

2007-01-21T17:49:00.000-05:00

Well, the first sights of Sacramento and California left something to be desired. We arrived in the quaint older part of the airport and I think the walk from the gate to the baggage to the car was about 250 feet total. It all was rather convenient, but odd just the same. After we left the airport, we drove through Rio Linda, which seemed to lack a river or anything that one would call pretty. Perhaps my understanding of Spanish needs to grow a bit. Anyway, it could have been called Trailer Park Vista or Mucho Trasho Blanco. Fortunately, we drove through it (Liz's parents aren't white trash. I dunno what I'd do if they were).

The next day brought a trip to Big Sur, which is right on the Pacific, south of Monterey. The journey brought to my attention that California is rather brown--so much so that Crayola could make a box, a big ass box, of just shades of California brown. Now I'm not referring to the Mexicans, rather the vegetation, which seemed to be clinging to the faintest semblances of life. En route, we past the Casa de Fruita, a lovely tourist trap near Gilroy, the 'Garlic Capital of the World'. After gawking at the hokeyness, we continued on to see the elephant seals.

Every year elephant seals, which are more seal than elephant, return to the same beaches (there are two in California) to gawk at tourists. Trying to do my part, I made myself into quite the camera toting tourist, so the seals could enjoy themselves. The mamas had their babies, which they protect and mentor, and the papas ... well they want to make more babies. The mamas resort to burping and covering themselves with dirt to send the message to the soon to be blue-balled boys. Quite an effective strategy.

Big Sur was nice, especially the drive along the coast, which is unlike anything in Ohio or even Florida. The sunset was awesome (I'm told that the smog helps produce surreal results). We went to the aquarium in Monterey the next day, and it was everything I'd hope it would be.

Pics of the whole trip can be found here.

We came, we saw, we took pictures

2007-01-21T14:31:00.000-05:00

In my last post, I wrote about our upcoming trip to California, and what was once the future now is the past. A week of California Dreamin will take much more than a single blog entry--well, I can write and write ... and write, but alas few can read that much, so this likely will have a "to be continued" somewhere before too long.

Fearing the outcome of the Donner Party, we decided to fly to California, and the cheapest airfare led us to fly United. Soon we discovered that United was divided. Like most airlines, there is the fru-fru first class, divided by a curtain to keep the riff raff of coach away from their brie and crumpets, but there was a more sinister division among the ranks of coach. We noticed this when we along with our comrades all filed into the back of coach, with no one sitting towards the front. The imbalance was almost so dramatic that a wheelie wasn't out of the question. Folks crowded well within the realm of one another's personal space sought to stretch out in their own row, but they were thwarted by the forces of evil. You see those empty seats towards the front of coach were in fact Economy Plus, complete with a humane amount of legroom (enough to make an average person feel like a midget). To enjoy such comforts, one had to pay an extra $40. What a shakedown.

Anyway, we managed to make it to Sacramento, and I met Liz's parents. They pretty much were what I expected, and besides being deathly tired, all was well.

To be continued ...

California, here I come

2007-01-11T15:16:00.000-05:00

After completing a successful first encounter of the parental kind with Liz and my folks, soon I will be embarking upon a cross country journey to do the same with the parental unit of my boo. I'm not too nervous based on Liz's accounts of her parents, and I do have the ability to turn the charm on as needed. I'm actually excited to be meeting them, and I've always wanted to go to California.

Until recently my enthusiasm has been tempered by some of the uncertainty of the situation of those we'll be leaving behind--our furry children. Fortunately, a kind soul has come forward, and that seems to be under control. It's hard to find a solution for nine pets. Nine pets seems bonkers, but my two cats, three guinea pigs, and a bunny is relatively easy to tend to, and Liz's two dogs (we added a mutually acquired cat) are a handful, but nothing extra ordinary. When all nine join in to form a four-legged version of Voltron, it takes a special person.

What's really cool, is that I'll be able to go to the same aquarium as Star Trek IV (the Voyage Home). We'll also get to see whales, if not save a few, and maybe we'll break a few laws with Liz's fun and wacky friend.

At least they still have that darn band

2007-01-09T13:52:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I wrote about the upcoming match-up between good and evil; right and wrong; culture and hillbilliness ... The battle was waged, and despite a bad beginning, all went well (kinda like the Rebel Alliance loosing Alderan, but winning the war). What made it all so much sweeter was enjoying it with my comrades (that and the free food).

Leading up to the game, all we heard were tales of how unworthy Florida is and how great the Buckeyes. What is a buckeye? A nut--a poisonous nut. I'm not Steve Irwin, so I'll take my chances with a nut any day over a Gator. I think a few more people realize that today. Anyway, before the games meat markets had 'gator meat', which was advertised as tasting like chicken, as that's what it really was. I haven't seen any cock fighting, but I've seen an alligator tear apart a dear. There must be a difference. A local pizza chain had a special 'Block O' pizza, which was really a clever scam to sell a pepperoni pizza with less pepperoni (up until recently Ohio State didn't have any admission standards, so this was like taking candy from a baby). When I wasn't being oppressed within the economy, I was being badgered at work (now a badger can be kinda scary, kinda like a wolverine, but I still would rather take on both than a Gator--silly Buckeyes just didn't know what they were up against).

The Local chapter of the ~~Rebel Alliance~~ Gator Club hosted a viewing party, so we figured we had to join in the fun. Liz was a trooper and joined me in our early attempt to case the joint and establish a foothold on some prime real estate. Our efforts quickly paid off with rather good free food and various beverages. Soon we were joined by Steve, Malachi, and Darlene, who brought us good luck by rubbing her Gator-to-be belly. Soon all was left was to graze the free food and wait and wait.

Imperial spies penetrated our stronghold, but they were outnumbered (not to mention outclassed), and when the game began, they were delighted with the early happenings. They were short lived, as good prevailed over evil, and freedom reigned over the formerly oppressed. For one night, the evil clutches of Buckeyedom were crushed and obliterated. Through it all, alcohol helped keep the agents of evil in denial, even prompting them to play the ~~Imperial March~~ Hang on Sloopy. Undaunted the rebels just danced away, and low and behold, that slutty crackwhore bitch sloopy let go. In the end, the distraught, beaten, and humiliated couldn't bear to make eye contact. When I could catch a glimpse of their expressions, it almost seemed like they lost a piece of their soul.

As you can see in the picture above, even the modestly named "The Best Damn Band in the Land" (Ohio State is also good at Synchronized Swimming--football is really the only weak link. Shit, they lost in basketball too).

Well today is a new day. The skies over Columbus are Buckeye gray, and there many eyes scarlet from a night of tears. I know down in Florida, it is warm, sunny, and folks are happier for the win, but they're not obsessed. They have the beach, nice weather, and so much more, and football is just a game. Maybe one day the deranged Buckeyes up here will get that. Buckeyes really are poisonous--they lead to an unhealthy obsession with all things scarlet and gray.

Today is the day

2007-01-08T09:24:00.000-05:00

After a month of anticipation, weeks of badgering and teasing, and the dread of dealing with sore winners (or more likely sore LOSERS), the day is upon us. The mighty Florida Gators, my alma matter and all around great school will face off against the hellions, hoodlums and hicks of THE Ohio State University. Unfortunately, I live in Columbus, home to all the aforementioned hellions, hoodlums, and hicks (fortunately many can't read and many more lack computers to read this).

Tonight I will join my brothers and sisters of the Gator Nation attending a viewing party at a friendly night spot, which hopefully will be safe if only through the strengths in numbers of concentrating all of us easy going pacifists in one place. Regardless, a fire extinguisher and bullet proof vest can always come in handy (this is Columbus mind you). Liz, my brave and too good for me girlfriend, who has no football disposition (though a hatred of all things Buckeye obsessed does brew within) will join me, which is rather kind of her. I hope she doesn't have to be a shoulder to cry on or worse, someone to bail me out.

I'm a Horrible Person

2007-01-04T13:40:00.000-05:00

Every now and then I head home from work a little earlier than normal (because I went to work early, I'm no slacker ;-). This sometimes leads to an encounter with the ultimate roadblock: the short bus. Yes, I mean THAT short bus. For a variety of reasons, there are so many short bus worthy folks living nearby that you'll see a long 'short' bus. I know that sounds confusing, but bear with me.

Anyway, these buses make frequent stops, and it can take FOREVER. I know I should take the time to be thankful that neither I nor anyone I care about is differently abled, but come on, it takes FOREVER. You see these folks tend to need constant supervision, so someone has to come out from the house to meet the bus. The bus needs to lower its lift, and then the person on the lift needs to slowly descend. This all takes a while, then it repeats, as these homes must be halfway houses for handifolks (or someone didn't realize their genes weren't were the jiz they travel in). Oh, btw, these folks aren't just physically gimpy, they're also 'tards, so it can take a while for them to navigate their chairs on and off the lift.

So I wait 5-10 minutes behind the short bus, sometimes behind short bus A who is stopped waiting for short bus B to unload, which sadly means than once one unloads, I can only proceed a block or two before short bus A begins the process. Fortunately this second trip is a bit shorter, as that bus has biped 'tards. These folks wear helmets, and let me tell you, they need them. I've seen folks just fall flat on their face mask (thus saving their face) for no reason. Note I didn't say they tripped, as any normal person will trip on occasion (I'll do so more often than most)--these people will just fall, like they forgot that they wanted to stay upright. It's sad, but somehow I'm such as ass that I can laugh (hell it's better than crying, though sometimes my laughter brings me to the brink of that).

So in short, I'm a horrible person. I don't appreciate my good fortune; I curse the less fortunate; and I laugh at those whose lives must suck. I'm going to hell; join me if you like.

A modern take on the birds and the bees

2007-01-04T09:06:00.000-05:00

Fortunately I never had to undergo that conversation with my dad (or mom), but I think I have it down. Anyway, in a seemingly unrelated note, Liz and I got an Xbox 360, which is an awesome little gizmo if you know how to use it right (many folks don't know they can stream music, videos, pictures, and even TV from their PC), and our favorite game for it is Viva Pinata. So where am I going with this?

Well Viva Pinata is a game, intended for all ages (complete with its own cartoon on TV) where one raises pinatas (knowing their cute side, I don't think I could ever smash one any more). These pinatas come in 60+ varieties ranging from worms to elephants (and yes, there are bids and bees), eat, drink, sleep, cause a ruckus and breed. Oh, there is a point to this blog, isn't there?

Yes breeding, the pinatas breed, and you have to do so to succeed in the game. You first have to have a pair (lesson 1: it takes two to tango); next you need to get them a crib (no sleeping in the bushes); then you need to make sure they both are in the mood (only consensual pinata sex here); and lastly you need to play matchmaker (you did see Fiddler on the Roof, didn't you?). The act of nookie is preceded by a minigame, where you must lead one gallant member of the breeding pair to the other. Note there are no set genders, so it's all very progressive. On the way, you collect coins (lesson 2: "Now I aint sayin she a gold digger, But she aint messin wit no broke niggas"). After the quest, which has various pitfalls (lesson 3: don't mess with her friends, as they can ruin any chance at romance), you get the prize. A few moments later, the game breaks into a cut scene; this is where the magic happens. These animations range from cute, to outright National Geographic grade animal porn--some even are too bizarre for words.

After all of this, an egg appears (all pinatas, even mammals, spawn from eggs), and you must wait it out for the youngin'. Oh and once it hatches, all bets are off in terms of Oedipus issues. These issues aside, it sure is nice that parents can just give their kids a game to accomplish what hokey videos and awkward talks used to. You also can learn how to be a pimp, run a puppy mill, or even a sweatshop. Basically, if replaces the need for most schooling. $50 never seemed like such a good investment. Those Leapster gizmos seem like a ripoff in comparison.

Put a fork in it, it's done

2007-01-03T08:59:00.000-05:00

Well 2006 has come and went, beginning and ending with uneventful New Years' Eves at home. Don't get me wrong, sitting at home and watching morons with those hokey glasses with the middle 0s as lenses can be a hoot (Liz posed a ponderous question, what will they do in 2010?). Plus the more recent eve was one of contentment rather than apathy.

A lot has happened this past year, mostly good, highlighted with meeting Liz, my boo. New additions include two dogs (one a goat-like basset hound, and the other a cross between a pony and a cow, otherwise known as a St Bernard) and a new kitty, and sadly I lost a piggy and my old dog my parents held onto. The greatest loss was my old friend Kevin, who wasn't at all old--far too young to die. I still feel bad for not keeping in touch more.

All in all, many of the things that I struggled with have become distant memories. No longer do I worry about selling the house, paying bills, or figuring out where I should go with my life, as the path has shown itself. To put it simply every aspect of my life has changed for the better.

What will 2007 bring? Well, likely a week or so of mistakenly writing 2006 instead of 2007, trips to Cali and Florida, and hopefully a national championship in football (who woulda thought 2006 was the year for Gator basketball?).

Well, We Survived

2006-12-30T10:11:00.000-05:00

Since I last posted, Darth Gudrun came and left, and Liz realized I was kinda kidding when I called her that. All in all things went well, and we took in quite the haul from Santa Clause, who seemed to find Liz in Ohio. Early gifts to ourselves, which included our Xbox 360 and our little kitty, who has proven to be quite the furry bully have proven quite nice, and recently we managed to score a Bosch dishwasher, which is a huge upgrade over none at all. It did provide a suitable challenge for our wits and even our brawn, but that's over with. Really it's been a great week.

Liz discovered the game of rummy; my folks discovered two lovable beasts; two lovable beasts went on lots of walks; and everyone played nice. I hope everyone has a wonderful new year, and Go Gators!!!

It's that time of year--damnit!!!

2006-12-22T18:17:00.000-05:00

So it's Christmas in Ohio--yeah me. This will be my 2nd Christmases here in Ohio, and I've done a pretty good job of picking the best years to be gone (that 2004 week without power sucked royally, well it sucked for those who were here). This year has the added stress of the impending arrival or Darth Gudrun, my ~~Sith~~ German, mom. The weeks of planning have descended into a frantic week of buying gifts, cleaning house, and getting everything that would be needed to avoid this being a disappointment for her. Adding to the event is that this will be the first time Liz has met her. Oh, I'm also busy loading my dad's new PC for him (well my mom, as it will be her gift to him). He has never used a PC, so it will be a challenge.

Anyway, I've managed to flick numerous people off, curse many more, and stare down a few, and they all deserved far worse (I couldn't afford the missile launcher option on my Mazda), oh and I've found myself grabbing shopping carts, purely for there potential use as weapons if shopping gets outta hand. Speaking of which, I decided to put off buying the standing rib roast until today. Bad move. I've pretty much decided to get all my meat at a local Italian market/butcher shop, which is a relic to a bygone era, and their meats are amazing. I really can't go back to supermarket meat, and their prices make it hard to do so as well. Well, I get there right after they open at 10am, and their lot is full, neighboring office lots is full, and the roadway is littered with cars parked on the right of way--oh shit. I decide that I really don't have a choice, and suck it up and go in. I grab a number, a pink one labeled 98. Ok, so I check the board to see what the current # was, 19. Fuck. Now if you're gonna brave the madness just to get your number, you're likely gonna stick it out, and you're gonna buy a shitload of meat. Oh, and everyone there is an Italian housewife or a grandma. They all have carts, and they mean business. Knowing that I can't wait it out and hold on to my sanity, I decide to take my number and run.

I run home; I do laundry; I go to Weilands (another local market) to check out their meat and buy some booze for Darth; I got to Giant Eagle and spend 30 minutes and $30 there; then I returned. 84. Not too bad, but I still had to wait, elbow to elbow with a lot of blue hair in my grill. As I wait, I see they are giving out yellow numbers, not too surprising as the pink ones were almost done when I grabbed mine, but then I realized that most people had blue numbers. The new #s were over 100 back in line from what was being called--shit, it sucked to be them. Before long I ordered my meat, and braved the line to checkout, which too 45 minutes or so.

Well, back to cleaning. Merry Christmas to all.

Yeah, I'm a hater

2006-12-21T13:52:00.000-05:00

I usually want the best for everyone, and don't spend too much energy wishing ill upon others, but I've had it. I don't want that fucking bitch to get the goddamned hippo! It's not he overwhelming impracticality, as I've been known to see past those issues when it comes to animals, nor is it the likelihood that a hippo would rather go about being a hippo, though I suppose most hippos don't dream of being Christmas gifts--no it's purely because I hate that fucking song. If grandma got ran over by a reindeer, why can't that brat get sat on by a hippo. There's no surviving that.

What's odd is that up until recently I was immune to this plague, and now I'm all to aware. This is worse than the bird flu, far worse. I'm no expert, but folks living among nasty ass birds should get sick. Who would expect anything else, but this hippo song is a plague upon a far wider and seemingly more innocent populous. I first heard about it from Liz, and even then I didn't know the extent of the annoyingness--mostly from my complete ignorance despite my being well versed in Christmas songs. Now I'm plagues by it, and I don't know how much longer I have--I don't know how much more time we have.

It's maddening!

All Hail the King

2006-12-18T14:37:00.000-05:00

As you likely know, I was a history major in college, and it remains an avid interest of mine (as opposed to political science which I also majored in and thoroughly hated), but I never really had much of an interest in American history. For all of its niceties, democracy and all that will of the people crap really is lame. It all but eliminates opportunities for real whack jobs and remarkable characters (I know most folks are wondering how our current situation doesn't qualify, but all in all it's still tame by real autocrat standards, and it has become too sad to laugh at). Anyway, kings (and queens), emperors (and empresses), Czars (I bet you didn't think I could spell czarina), and various princes, dukes, and misc monarch makes studying history amusing and fulfilling. So where am I going with this, well not anywhere I can tell.

A hunka hunka tacky lamp

So where was I? Well with all due respect to that creepy Burger King, the king of beers, and the Dairy Queen (who's attempts to annex the kingdom of burgers has been an udder failure--bad pun, but worse food), there is one king in American culture: Elvis. Yeah, he's not much of a musician, and he totally stole his whole gig from lesser known African American artists, but he's an unmistakable cultural icon and national treasure--kinda like Kylie Minogue is for Australia and Lars Ulrich is for Denmark. So why this sudden fondness for Elvis? Well, I'm not a fan, never was, and I doubt I will be, but this story has a point, well a general direction ...

His wonky facial expression is why some have called him 'Downs Elvis'

Last Friday we had our late fall gift exchange event (gotta be PC) at work, which involved a 'white elephant' exchange. In a nutshell (for all you Buckeye fans), one brings in crap from home, and draws a number. #1 goes first, unwraps someone else's crap, and pouts. #2 can take the shit #1 would otherwise be stuck with or take a chance that they will get something even worse through unwrapping another persons garbage. If #2 (or any subsequent person) takes #1's gift, then #1 gets the same options as if it were his turn (including stealing someone else's unwrapped rubbish). So ... I went 13th, and I brought in some crap from the basement (sweetened in part with lotto tickets), and I opted to steal a gift card (for Starbucks) unwrapped by someone else. #20 (the last person) stole my gift card, so I went ahead and stole #1's Elvis lamp.

Let me tell you, it's big, gaudy, and an antique. I'd say 95% of the people on earth would describe it as hideous, and it may have ended a few marriages, but I think it's got some charm. More importantly, I knew it had to be worth more than the $10 average of these gifts. Sure enough, when the exchange was complete, I was presented with a printed eBay screenshot with a similar lamp selling for $225 (plus $25 S&H)! For now he's keeping the guest bedroom looking retro. See, I told you this was going somewhere.

May the force be with me

2006-12-15T16:38:00.001-05:00

Remember in the beginning of The Return of the Jedi, when Darth Vader is checking out the 2nd Death Star's construction, and folks are more than a little intimidated and eager to please him while he's there for an inspection, and he scares the shit out of everyone when he says the emperor is coming soon. Well my mom is coming to visit.

I'm the black sheep of the family, which is odd as I'm rather white and I'm not a sheep (though my fur is getting rather woolly), due to my less than cleanliness. I'm no slob--nothing real gross here, just a bit of clutter and a good cleaning needed, but Liz has noticed that I'm a bit on edge. She's never met my mom, and I'm not too worried about that, but I would like to make sure everything goes alright, as well the Death Star blew up, and I just don't want to have to move.

Where are my monkeys?

2006-12-14T16:34:00.000-05:00

You know those Career Builder ads with the dude and his monkey coworkers? I wish I could have his coworkers. That would be a step up.

Such an improvement over my current comrades

What's this world coming to?

2006-12-14T16:33:00.000-05:00

I know things were getting weird when my cats each had Myspace profiles (I suppose they get bored during the day), now I see that our X-box 360 has started to blog!

I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, as my neutered cats get emailed offers for Viagra. I think they need more help than the little blue pill can offer.

Cruisin' with the Po-Po

2006-12-13T08:51:00.000-05:00

I sit here groggy, tired, sore, and wondering what exactly led to me riding in a cop car last night. While I've watched more than my fair share of COPS, I can honestly say it's a bit different when you're riding in the car--mostly the smell, with a bouquet of puke, piss, and other fluids masked by an overwhelming fragrance of industrial sanitizer--basically like bowling alley shoes, only worse.

So how did I end up smelling these unique odors and enjoying the real life COPS experience? Well fear not it didn't start with a crack pipe and a wife beater. It all started innocently enough with a car ride to Cincinnati to visit Liz's friend, who was there on business travel. We got there early and discovered how the elite live and travel, and decided upon a nearby place to dine. We walked there only to discover that the Thai place we decided upon was no longer open, so we sauntered about to another Asian place, then another. All closed. Determined to keep going, her friend decided to ask the on the spot food critic: the fuzz.

I suppose it was a sound idea, but a tad unconventional--the kind of thinking I usually exhibit. He pulled his cruiser over and asked what kind of food we were looking for and processed the query. After a few results sputtered out, he thought of a Chinese place his Asian friend ate at. He then offered to give us a ride there. How could we refuse? So next thing you know, he's opening the back doors, the ladies slide in and I somehow got shotgun (though ironically enough there was no shotgun in the front seat, which was rather common in Florida). I suppose I haven't watched enough COPS, as I looked around for a while for the seat belt, which was no where to be found--five-0 gotta get in and out quickly. As we cruised around, we were like animals in a zoo exhibit, as everyone glanced in, often practically sticking their heads in, Not wanting to disappoint us further the cop called his Asian friend to see if the place would be open at that 'late' hour (like 8pm), and his friend seemed shocked that he would be riding around with strangers. Making our experience complete, he pulled up to a red light and asked if we wanted to run a red light; he then proceeded to do so and asked if we get pissed when cops do that. Before long our trip was over, but the journey continued ...

We got to the place, which was the cliche Chinese place with lots of red and green, a few terracotta soldiers, and the ubiquitous dragons. We sat down, and before long our conversations scared the family sitting nearby into a hasty exit, and we were greeted with a remarkably entertaining waiter, who warned us of what not to eat, advised us on the best values, and humored our general playfulness. The food was good, but the amusing interactions kept making sure we 'enjoys' everything.

After that we walked back to the hotel, sadly no ride in the police car, but we did see a bunch of blue lights while we were walking past the Hustler store. We walked over to see if our buddy was there, but alas we didn't see him. All in all it was the best experience I've had with the the law. It also was cool meeting Liz's cool friend. I wonder what kind of adventures we'll go on when our paths cross again.

A New Edition!

2006-12-04T14:00:00.000-05:00

Sometimes when a girl and a guy love one another as much as Liz and I do, some unexpected things may happen. These additions are blessings, even if they're not what one plans. We tried to be careful, and we took lots of precautions. Apparently we took one risk too many, and somehow a new boy named Leo(pold) has joined our family. We love him, as we do all of our kids, and we're very excited about everything he'll add to our family. He's everything we both were looking for, and he loves us both. Welcome to the family!

No Messin Wit Da 614

2006-12-01T10:09:00.000-05:00

I've been home ill the past few days, with an added touch of foot pain likely induced by being stepped upon by the enormous puppy. In my boredom, I've watched a few movies (including some that I knew would suck, thus enhancing the potential for sleep--didn't work) and surfed the net a bit. In my travels, I read up on some underground DVDs (well I guess that cats out of the bag) containing fights from 'the 614'. Wanting to see if these videos are just lame (think Vanilla Ice on Celebrity Boxing), amusing (think bum fights), or hardcore (don't think I've really seen that yet), I check them out via YouTube.

The first clip is rather subdued, even boring (don't think I'll want to front that I represent the 614 after that):

The second has a cool sound track (representing the 614) and is a bit more chaotic and violent (probably just a tad worse than COPs):

The last one has a good ole fashioned cat fight:

All in all, more disappointing than amusing. I guess we always OSU riot footage:

Oh, btw, there is an OSURiots.com webpage. Perhaps it's reach problematic status when people start buying URLs.

Nirvana

2006-11-29T11:18:00.000-05:00

I suppose everyone is looking for nirvana in one way or another (perhaps with the exception of Courtney Love who is content with Nirvana's money)--we even watched a film that may have been about that (not exactly sure what it was trying to accomplish). Anyway, recently I've noticed people who seemed to have reached the lofty state. Who are these people? Monks, philanthropists, pimps? None of the above. No the folks who seem oddly content and satisfied with this world (besides the mentally retarded--my cat included) are Blockbuster employees. Recently I've become quite the (ab)user of Blockbuster Online and their cool provision for returning discs to the store for more rentals, and I've interacted quite a bit (usually unwillingly) with the dudes who work there, and they're always so happy, content, outgoing, and more than anything--weird. I try to play nice, but perhaps I'm just not on their plane of existence.

So now I confront the issue confronting me: what about working there has them so happy, and how can I get there myself. Well first off working there is simply impossible, as I tend to enjoy the fruits of a decent job, and Liz likely doesn't want to be with a video store clerk. Perhaps there is a component of their existence I can replicate in a more financially rewarding job. It can't be free movies, as even if it were a benefit, we're hemorrhaging with movies and TV shows on DVD. Sometimes my biggest chore for the day is to keep pace with the influx of discs. It can't be the people who shop there, as I tend to feel the urge to vomit more often than smile when amongst the huddled masses that infiltrate the store. The work environment is laid back, but without internet access, I'd be paralyzed. Sadly they can't even decide which DVDs are playing on the TVs. So all I'm left with is the complete lack of responsibility.

I suppose this shouldn't be a surprise, as American Beauty seemed to hit that point, and I suppose Fight Club too (I did mention that I watch a lot of movies). Care free freeloaders, such as K-Fed, Paris Hilton, and perhaps the most freeloading freeloader--Kato Kaelin (I wonder if he's helping OJ find the real killer?) all seem happy as well. Maybe I'm just wired differently, as I kinda like responsibility, and I tend to waste away when there's nothing to do--unless I have a movie to watch. I suppose being trapped surrounded by movies but not being able to watch them (or at least choose what's on) is hell--movies movies everywhere but not a one to watch! Nirvana my ass, it must be hell. They must simply be stoners, retards (subtle distinction at times), or alien spies.

Unleashing the Beast

2006-11-28T09:31:00.000-05:00

'Kuma trying to look serious--or just about ready to burb and/or fart.

This morning, while I was cheering our big baby on to completing breakfast, which can be a chore when eight cups on food is the norm, I was watching how they scare away bears with dogs. As a kid I watched Grizzley Adams, which was somewhat tainted when I saw him on Cathouse--anyway, I always marveled how he controlled the big beast. Now I wonder how I control the big beast, as even bears are afraid of dogs, and our boy is quite big. He may be the youngest (or perhaps the 2nd youngest) member of the family, but he's 85x the mass of the eldest. This all has been put to the test lately, as we've tried taking the boys out for a little exercise, so that grandma and grandpa can walk their grandpups when they comes to visit.

Stuart is our little dog. His bark is worse than his bite (but not his breath)

Let's just say it's easier said than done. Being that I'm enormous myself, I kinda inherited the big boy (a St Bernard btw), while Liz, being a petite gal, gets the petite pup (no easy chore being a snooty basset hound). It all went well, save for a yelping dog who the gentle giant may have stepped on (the dog may have just shit himself when he realized how big 'Kuma is up close), then again I yelp when I can't get my feet out of the way of his mammoth paws. I suppose the big bubba is more of a suitable fit for me than my little yorkie I used to walk around campus in Gainesville.

Our Recent Dining Encounters

2006-11-27T12:02:00.000-05:00

Unlike most folks who gorge on Thanksgiving and feast on the leftovers thereafter, we had a relatively modest meal with no real leftovers. So how better to balance things off than a weekend of buffets? I sure can't think of anything. Saturday seemed like a great day for the wonders of the Super Seafood Buffet, as Liz was thinking Chinese, and I was thinking of crab legs (I tend to do that often). While the buffet isn't quite as nice looking as the web site (which is oddly slick for what seems to be a family owned restaurant), the selection is very diverse (including real sushi, a Mongolian BBQ no one seems to ever want to take advantage of--I certainly don't wish to be the first, and the aforementioned crab legs). I'm glad they appear to have removed the chicken feat, which tend to make my taste buds sour a bit. Anyway, we got there, were greeted like anxiously awaited VIPs, and began our meal. I loaded up on the first of four plates of crab legs, and I was as happy as a clam (well happier than the clams on the buffet!). After a while I half expected to be approached by ownership with a buy-out offer to get me to leave the crab legs alone, but I started to notice how bad the Muzak was. It was heinous (think instrumental Richard Marx and Jackson 5 numbers), and Liz and I determined that it must have been a form of encouragement to leave, and it worked.

This isn't unprecedented, as I recall Disney World playing a non-stop ever changing rendition of 'It's a Small World' complete with transitions to Hip-Hop, Jazz, Ragtime, and Rae-Gae versions of the annoying diddy. It's far worse than it sounds, and I'm sure there are subliminal messages to buy shit and get the fuck out.

Back to our fine dining encounters, we made a visit to the gourmet pizza shop, also known as Cicis. They not only make a selection of original creations (such as mac n' cheese pizza), they offer it all for $5.75 with all you can drink fountain drinks. Due to some somewhat undesirable types of folks that frequent the establishment, we tend to visit only one location that has proven to be relatively trash-free, but this has led us to become regulars of a sort at this locale. Upon our last visit, one of the employees, who we call Dante (he once proclaimed that he wasn't even supposed to be working that day--and he looks a bit like Brian O'Halloran as well), started to call us out and recall that I always ask for a mac n' cheese pizza, which I don't enjoy, but Liz loves it (kinda odd for a grown up who's not a stoner). He was there again for our most recent encounter, and sure enough he was all buddy-buddy with us. I've learned to be more people friendly, but I'm kinda weirded out by complete strangers who I run into multiple times acting like they know me. I do feel bad, as I kinda imagine he has no real friends, and his mom likely doesn't even talk to him much, as he refuses to move out. I'm hoping he doesn't spring a request that I be his best man or something on me--then again, he doesn't strike me as being the ideal catch for the ladies. Anyway, between Cici's, the Dollar Theater, and a trip to Wal Mart (topped by an evening of COPS), we had the ultimate white trash date. I'm such a good boyfriend.

It's almost over

2006-11-17T08:37:00.000-05:00

After a year of what could tamely be described as hype and perhaps more accurately hysteria, the end is near--for this year. Once every year representatives of the fine institution up in Ann Arbor play the hoodlums from Columbus in a football game, and the hooligans who idolize the process and invest their lives and sanity into the silly rivalry allow the irrational enthusiasm to reach a crescendo--typically leading to fires, flipped cars, pepper spray, rubber bullets--you know the usual riot stuff. Time to make sure the insurance is paid up, the fire extinguishers are full, and I need to see if I can borrow Maurice's kevlar outfit. Weeks of incessant murmuring, boisterous remarks, and blinding amounts of red are converging upon tomorrow, with quite a bit of turmoil today, mostly in the form of nausea inducing potlucks (my office reeks of sour kraut). What's sad is that it's all so devoid of pageantry or anything truly positive. It makes me miss the simplicity of the hokey homecoming parade of Gainesville (local schools close--as do many businesses) along with the mediocre comedy of the always over hyped Gator Growl.

I hope we make it through this weekend--if this is my last blog, adieu.

I'm Not Really White Trash

2006-11-14T09:15:00.000-05:00

Lately I have been reacquainting myself with my white trash roots, and nothing exemplifies that more than watching COPS and WWE wrestling. COPS is especially nostalgic, as many locals I've frequented or had occasion to travel through are subjects of the fine show (worry not, I never was a crack head or tweaker). I've watched enough COPs lately that I can tell what city they're in without reading obvious clues (such as decals on the side of police cars or badges). I've learned how to make crystal meth, how to shop lift, and how cheap a ho really can be. I've had many meals that cost less than a romp in the bushes with some of those nasty girls, and by the looks of some of the men, I'd want much more money just to spend 5 minutes in their presence, let alone--eeeeeewwwweee. WWE is somewhat less nostalgic, as many familiar faces are older, fatter, and less entertaining. Rowdy Roddy Piper looks bad, the undertaker looks older than my now retired dad, and Ric Flair looks absolutely horrible. He's aged more in the past two years than Charo has in the past twenty--ney forty years. I don't recall wrestlers wearing french maid outfits (complete with tiger print g-string), and I'm not talking about a chic! Totally unnecessary. Oh, the Boogeyman is a sigh to behold--homeboy runs out with live worms in his mouth. He wrestles quickly to avoid chocking on them, then spits them out on his opponents upon defeating them. He carries a few extra in his cargo pants, just in case he wants to go fishing afterwards. The Flava-Flav clock he smashes on his head is cool though. Eddy Guerrero has been replaced with his wife, who looks worse than he would in drag (well while he was still alive at least). At least she continues his tradition of sporting a mullet. Only in WWE and the NHL does the mullet thrive. I blame Canada, the homeland for white trash. All this talk of white trash makes me want some Waffle House---mmmmm yum!

Who's Watching Us?

2006-11-13T09:16:00.000-05:00

For those of you in the dark, I love to eat. It's fitting, as I also love to cook, and I have the pleasure of enjoying all of the wonderful cooking that Liz has to offer as well, but every once in a while we venture out to let someone else do the cooking. Yesterday was such a day. Armed with a coupon and an appetite, we ventured for breakfast at Scramblers, an establishment that fancies itself as a breakfast bistro, and they tend to deliver on one's expectations. The wait was modest, affording a modest people watching opportunity, which makes the journey that much more worthwhile. When we were sat, we were surprised to see a couple crowded in a table adjacent to us with newspaper and coupons sprawled out upon the table, discussing the weeks deals and the various deals in front of them. They obviously were a couple, likewise apparently cohabitating, but they seemed to know very little of what each other liked, which would have been the most surprising aspect of the situation, were it not for the fact that it occurred in a pact establishment with a wait for tables. A truly bizarre situation. Dinner also was rewarding, as the wonders of loads of sausage and other German fare are hard to resist (well, being the lousy German I am, I can easily resist sour kraut), but all I can remember was seeing Liberace reincarnated, complete with a silvery reflective shirt--more than mere sequins, rather nickel sized bits of reflective plastic.

So the question is, who's watching us? I enjoy people watching, but I'm not so sure about being watched.

Finally!

2006-11-07T08:27:00.000-05:00

It is finally election day, and I couldn't be happier (well if it weren't raining, the old farts knew how to operate the voting machines and there were likable candidates, I could be happier). I've grown tired of hokey signs littering the landscape (shouldn't they subtract the # of signs remaining on the roadside the day after election day from official vote totals? Wouldn't that be interesting? I've also grown sore from lugging reams of junk mail, typically duplicated for my girlfriend (isn't there a candidate smart enough to run a filter on their database for duplicates? are candidates that well funded that they could care less?). Perhaps most annoying are the ridiculous attack ads, often focusing on bizarre connections, peripheral issues, or things that happened decades ago. I don't know about you, but if the worst thing you can say about a candidate is that someone who supports them is wacko or they once voted for something silly 20 years ago, I'm kinda inclined to think there not that bad. Lastly, and perhaps most annoying, is the return of deceptively worded and far to easy to pass constitutional amendments. The whole point of adopting a constitution, a higher law, is to protect the minority (those in the majority do have an odd tendency to always have their rights protected), so why should a simple majority allow for such fundamental change? Why should the masses be entrusted to read cryptic legislation and make a split decision (wait, those 'yes on x' and 'no on y' signs explain it all so well). Anyway, given my lack of faith in people, my jaded views on politics, and my general dislike of crowds organized by elderly volunteers, election day is no thrill for me.