My hairbrained scheme

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

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.

Unmet Expectations

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

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.

What a bunch of crap

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!

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

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

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

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

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!

Gastronomical molestation

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

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!

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

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

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?

The White Death

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

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.

OMG

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.

The End of The Year

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.

Assorted Dining Encounters

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

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.