I've been reading Yehuda's blog lately, subtitle, "Gaming and Blogging in the Holy Land." I found him via Flak Mag (there's a new podcast on Flak Radio today), and have been enjoying his commentary and enthusiasm for some of the same board games I enjoy. I did find this link in his post today disturbing, but only because Adam and I had the exact same discussion with a gamer last weekend who was telling us all about the new D&D rules, while we reminisced about playing with 3x5" cards and very loose DM-ing to keep the players happy. MtG/D&D humor...ouch.
I've been playing some of Kloonigames ten less-than-a-week games again (see the sidebar). Crayon Physics frustrates the hell out of me. I find some satisfaction playing a mini-George Bush in Oval Office, but emasculating him so thoroughly deprives me of the joy of finding all that crayon-rendered WMD evidence. I think he needs super powers, like misdirection and lying.
I was jealous of the XBox360 folks who could play Settlers of Catan, but I found this 2004 version I can play on my PC. But it doesn't have a competing AI. And I can't play it versus the web (just hot seat and local network). And I can't hotseat versus my wife, because two-player Settlers is lame, and if I had three or four other people here, I'd just play the board version. Argh! They have a number of links to other games you can play on line, including Tikal, which I think is extremely fun. An aside for Sean - I know you listed the reasons Ticket to Ride Europe is superior to plain old Ticket to Ride, and I agree with all of them. But apparently, Ticket to Ride (not Europe) comes with young, pink-shorted groupies.
Finally, I received my first birthday present 2.5 months early. Pooteewheet and Eryn went shopping at Phoenix Games because they were having a moving sale and selling off a bunch of their stock, so they were able to pick up a game I'd been after for 40% off the normal price (it was an $80 game, so that's $32 off - sort of like a double present, because one of the only things I like almost as much as gaming is game thriftiness). I think Tide of Iron (by Fantasy Flight Games, right here in the Twin Cities) could rightly be considered Squad Leader for gamers who are a.) too lazy to read all the rules for Squad Leader (or have friends who won't read them, and are left to find their way on their own and don't want to play with strangers on the internets [that's for you, Povert]), b.) think Squad Leader is just too much work for a short game (Tide of Iron supposedly takes 1-2 hours), and c.) like little plastic pieces more than cardboard squares - i.e. Axis and Allies Syndrome. So I own it, and I've read the rules - but I have no one to play with this week and it's driving me crazy. I know if I start a game, my pager is going to go off.
Friday, August 31, 2007
Thursday, August 30, 2007
A Message For Kyle
Kyle, I could have posted gratuitous pictures of Joanne Whalley in the Willow postpourri post (I don't believe she was Whalley-Kilmer until after Willow), but if I do things like that, then I'm tempted to do bad things to mess with you. It's my nature. Like when you worried about Alton Brown's hair on Cate Blanchett and I tried to cut it from this picture of Alton and paste it on this picture of Cate.
But I'm too lazy to learn to use a real photo editor, so nothing got done other than giving myself a severe case of the the willies while making the attempt. But in some cases, you don't have to try very hard to make it work, and you can resort to the Ming School of Photo Editing - five minutes and you too can have a certificate of achievement - to obtain the desired affect. So here you are...a gratuitous photo of Joanne Whalley, just for you. Sweet dreams.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Postpourri - Multimedia, MOA observations, Willow
Ah...postpourri. Been a while.
These top 10 bizarre recordings (via Rex at Fimoculous) live up to their hype. Just plain weird. My sister and mother might like to hear Florence Nightingale talking. And while I don't think the sounds of hell or exorcism are particularly exciting, the last 40 minutes or so of Jonestown are downright creepy, and Pooteewheet might enjoy the Jonestowner who begins, "I used to be a therapist…” I think Kyle will appreciate the super high note, I'm just sorry that there was no recording of Le Pétomane for him.
If you enjoy the bizarre recordings, these video links from Listverse are amusing as well:
http://listverse.com/bizarre/top-10-most-bizarre-videos/ http://listverse.com/bizarre/10-more-bizarre-videos/ http://listverse.com/bizarre/another-10-bizarre-videos/
I think I saw someone with goiter at the Mall of America. I've never seen anyone with goiter except in 3rd grade nutrition studies. I always figured it was just something people caught a hundred years ago, like rickets.
The population of Eagan is/was 65,337 people. This doesn't seem like a lot, until you realize that 65,337 bears wandering around an area the size of Eagan would be a freaky number of bears. 65,337 alligators...same deal. Good nutrition has blinded me to the plight of others.
At the Mall, they were selling an ultimate collector Lego Millennium Falcon for $499.99, pre-order for delivery on October 1, no more than five per person. "Not eligible for loyalty stamps at time of pre-order." What?! If I buy $2500.00 worth of Legos, my frequent-buyer club is no good? But that's the definition of loyalty. At least where Legos are concerned. If I was super rich, and not of a mind to fund scholarships rather than waste money, I'd find it amusing to buy five Millennium Falcon Lego sets and build anything but Millennium Falcons out of them.
Our neighborhood took another hit from another storm the other night (the 28th). Pooteewheet and I both woke up around 3:00 a.m. to a window display that made it look like our house was in a carwash. A carwash with strobing disco lights. Seemed worse than the storms that had done so much tree damage in the weeks before, but when I looked out the window at 6:00 a.m., I didn't see any obvious damage. On the way to work I saw some in adjoining neighborhoods, however. And then Pooteewheet called me at 7:00 a.m. to ask if I'd seen the neighbor's tree immediately to the back right of our house. I can't tell if it fell down in the hour I was gone because the ground is saturated, or if I'm just blind as a bat. Missed the neighbor's house, so that's good. And with three (point five - that willow on the right in the picture isn't doing so hot) willows down behind our house, we're likely to see fewer fronds in our yard. Of course, then we have to see more of our neighbors. I'm hoping none of them likes to walk past the windows naked like the old neighbors directly behind us liked to before they sold. You can see the rest of the pictures in this set.
These top 10 bizarre recordings (via Rex at Fimoculous) live up to their hype. Just plain weird. My sister and mother might like to hear Florence Nightingale talking. And while I don't think the sounds of hell or exorcism are particularly exciting, the last 40 minutes or so of Jonestown are downright creepy, and Pooteewheet might enjoy the Jonestowner who begins, "I used to be a therapist…” I think Kyle will appreciate the super high note, I'm just sorry that there was no recording of Le Pétomane for him.
If you enjoy the bizarre recordings, these video links from Listverse are amusing as well:
http://listverse.com/bizarre/top-10-most-bizarre-videos/ http://listverse.com/bizarre/10-more-bizarre-videos/ http://listverse.com/bizarre/another-10-bizarre-videos/
I think I saw someone with goiter at the Mall of America. I've never seen anyone with goiter except in 3rd grade nutrition studies. I always figured it was just something people caught a hundred years ago, like rickets.
The population of Eagan is/was 65,337 people. This doesn't seem like a lot, until you realize that 65,337 bears wandering around an area the size of Eagan would be a freaky number of bears. 65,337 alligators...same deal. Good nutrition has blinded me to the plight of others.
At the Mall, they were selling an ultimate collector Lego Millennium Falcon for $499.99, pre-order for delivery on October 1, no more than five per person. "Not eligible for loyalty stamps at time of pre-order." What?! If I buy $2500.00 worth of Legos, my frequent-buyer club is no good? But that's the definition of loyalty. At least where Legos are concerned. If I was super rich, and not of a mind to fund scholarships rather than waste money, I'd find it amusing to buy five Millennium Falcon Lego sets and build anything but Millennium Falcons out of them.
Our neighborhood took another hit from another storm the other night (the 28th). Pooteewheet and I both woke up around 3:00 a.m. to a window display that made it look like our house was in a carwash. A carwash with strobing disco lights. Seemed worse than the storms that had done so much tree damage in the weeks before, but when I looked out the window at 6:00 a.m., I didn't see any obvious damage. On the way to work I saw some in adjoining neighborhoods, however. And then Pooteewheet called me at 7:00 a.m. to ask if I'd seen the neighbor's tree immediately to the back right of our house. I can't tell if it fell down in the hour I was gone because the ground is saturated, or if I'm just blind as a bat. Missed the neighbor's house, so that's good. And with three (point five - that willow on the right in the picture isn't doing so hot) willows down behind our house, we're likely to see fewer fronds in our yard. Of course, then we have to see more of our neighbors. I'm hoping none of them likes to walk past the windows naked like the old neighbors directly behind us liked to before they sold. You can see the rest of the pictures in this set.
Monday, August 27, 2007
Business Speak
I was subjected to a bit of business speak in a meeting today. I thought I should share, in case you want to impress coworkers with your way with the words. They're nothing fancy, which is good, because that way they're easy to pull out at a moment's notice:
- "take the window” - to go with what’s available while waiting for what you want/require. Sometimes used even when it seems like you’re building a complete house and there aren’t even any doors. If your house is in danger of burning down, taking the window is the wise course of action. Can refer to using legacy functionality while awaiting development resources and/or hardware for a new feature.
- “box of chocolates list” - fairly self explanatory. A questionable metaphor since the movie Forrest Gump because, as the Gump pointed out, you get what you get when you root around in a box of chocolates. You might fill your box of chocolates with all the things you'd like to have that are extras, but when you do, you might not get to pick which ones come back out for eating.
- “we’ll wear it” - that item is one that we will take direct ownership of – we are responsible for it, as though it were a pair of old underwear with a streak in them – i.e. even we may not want to confess to ownership, but certainly no one else does, and it looks like our Mom has sewn our name on the elastic.
Minnesota State Fair 2007
Friday, I took the day off, and went to the Minnesota State Fair with Pooteewheet, Eryn and Kyle. Eryn was forward-looking enough to win us tickets this year, so our entrance was free - just not the food. We also started the latest we've ever started, which made parking a challenge as we drove around to find a park and ride lot because the south Fair lot was closed.
Pooteewheet has a nice series that shows Eryn standing in front of the same sign for five years in a row. All the pictures are out at a Flickr set. And I offer commentary on a random selection below.
Eryn goes for the rides. Not the food, because there's no way she was savoring that corn dog with the speed it disappeared, but the rides. Here she is on some new-fangled thing we hadn't seen before. I was only requested to go on one ride - a sailboat that swung back and forth - and it made me a little queasy, although that was probably more the deep-friend Snickers covered in batter and powdered sugar than the ride.
Nice view from up high. Eryn doesn't quite have this ride figured out and took ran around like a chicken as we were getting on, and then took a bit of a header as we hopped off. I think the pressure of "GET ON NOW! GET ON NOW! GET ON NOW!" seriously flusters her. I don't think I'll take her sky diving any time soon.
I thought the wooden bear was far too happy about the tractors. That, and he's pretty much shouting "Look at my missing genitalia!" Lost them in a tractor accident, no doubt.
Freaky corn that looked more like Cthulu than corn, with those things hanging off his head. Pretty cushy job as it wasn't broiling - he seemed to just wander around with the words "Poet" on his butt and hug lots of young women for photo ops.
"Do Not Board". It was a safety notice, because to board, I'd obviously have to break both my legs at bare minimum.
This was strange product placement. It could only be targeted at people on the skyway (or whatever the ski lift is called at the fair), but you couldn't exactly hop off and go get a Gizmo. In addition - if you were headed to the opposite side of the fair, it was a long way back to a Gizmo, and they didn't sell it enough to make it worth a $3 return trip.
Eryn on a $44,000+ lawn mower. This could help my neighbor, Steve, who was mowing in the dark last night while I watched Grandma's Boy. If you're going to mow in the dark, getting done as fast as possible is the right way not to lose a toe or foot.
A very pretty sheep. Many of them were wearing these strange warmers that hearkened back to the '80's and John Travolta and Jamie Lee Curtis in Perfect, or Olivia Newton John's "Physical" video. This sheep is channeling the '80s and starting to do some dance moves.
One of the dairy owners (related family, really) hugging a cow. His friends clapped...cheered...took many photos. And he just snuggled up to his cow and mugged for everyone. Probably the only time I'll ever talk about "hugging the cow" when it isn't a euphemism.
When you've run out of money to ride the midway, you can ride the big wooden giraffe. Also a euphemism. It looked difficult to get up there, and then not very exciting once you were. I think it would give me flashbacks to Wall Drug.
Eryn was into milking this year. She milked a fake cow at the kiddie barn, which had an udder full of water, milked another fake cow with a milking machine, and compared udders at the dairy barn. Really what she was fascinated by was not the milking, but the udders. She says "udder" like it's super funny, and had us walk up and down the rows of cows so she could see a few dozen. She's also a big fan of watching sheep get shaved, and was keen on the police dogs. Her favorite swag from the fair was a K-9 unit stuffed dog she named "Dog" and a Fleet Farm key chain that she likes because I keep trying to steal it (not that I want it - I prefer my Marvin the Martian key chain Pooteewheet got me).
Eryn riding the world's largest diaphragm. Could have been left behind by Paul Bunyan's girlfriend - because I saw his shoe last year, but not him. Maybe she'll be at the miracle of birth display in the future, because there's a rather obvious flaw in this birth control device.
Eryn and Kyle scoring root beer. The day was beautiful. First day we've been in years where it wasn't either 95+ degrees, or raining. That did result in a lot of people at the Fair as it was supposedly going to be the only nice day during the last week and the week to come. Although the whole weekend turned out to be pretty nice. In addition to root beer, we had the aforementioned fried Snickers. Fried Oreos. Little donuts. Teriyaki ostrich (overdone and too salty). Corn dogs. A blackberry malt (yum). Kyle had a caramel sundae. A chocolate Kiwanis malt. And much, much more.
A picture for the Lawschool folk, because you haven't seen her in a while. That's her new baby. I ran into all sorts of ex-coworkers at the fair. Nathan the intern, who's going back to Morris, and I crossed paths four times. Kyle spotted the parents of our friend from high school, Mark, but they blended into the crowd before we could say "hello". We're pretty sure we spotted their big, white, three-wheeled motortrike in the motorcycle parking area. They rode it in parades and around town throughout my high-school years, so it's easy to recognize.
We also saw Erik the Hairy Swede's wife at the eco building. She was telling us about the nice man who had stopped right before we got there and was showing her pictures of his girlfriends: pole dancer girlfriend, car show girlfriend, etc. When it was posited that she might show up on his cell phone as eco-car girlfriend, she admitted that he had wanted to take a few photos. She also noted that working with an eco-friendly car display was painful when forced to argue with individuals who would come up and announce that global-warming wasn't real. As if it's the only reason why you shouldn't drive a huge gas-guzzling car.
Pooteewheet has a nice series that shows Eryn standing in front of the same sign for five years in a row. All the pictures are out at a Flickr set. And I offer commentary on a random selection below.
Eryn goes for the rides. Not the food, because there's no way she was savoring that corn dog with the speed it disappeared, but the rides. Here she is on some new-fangled thing we hadn't seen before. I was only requested to go on one ride - a sailboat that swung back and forth - and it made me a little queasy, although that was probably more the deep-friend Snickers covered in batter and powdered sugar than the ride.
Nice view from up high. Eryn doesn't quite have this ride figured out and took ran around like a chicken as we were getting on, and then took a bit of a header as we hopped off. I think the pressure of "GET ON NOW! GET ON NOW! GET ON NOW!" seriously flusters her. I don't think I'll take her sky diving any time soon.
I thought the wooden bear was far too happy about the tractors. That, and he's pretty much shouting "Look at my missing genitalia!" Lost them in a tractor accident, no doubt.
Freaky corn that looked more like Cthulu than corn, with those things hanging off his head. Pretty cushy job as it wasn't broiling - he seemed to just wander around with the words "Poet" on his butt and hug lots of young women for photo ops.
"Do Not Board". It was a safety notice, because to board, I'd obviously have to break both my legs at bare minimum.
This was strange product placement. It could only be targeted at people on the skyway (or whatever the ski lift is called at the fair), but you couldn't exactly hop off and go get a Gizmo. In addition - if you were headed to the opposite side of the fair, it was a long way back to a Gizmo, and they didn't sell it enough to make it worth a $3 return trip.
Eryn on a $44,000+ lawn mower. This could help my neighbor, Steve, who was mowing in the dark last night while I watched Grandma's Boy. If you're going to mow in the dark, getting done as fast as possible is the right way not to lose a toe or foot.
A very pretty sheep. Many of them were wearing these strange warmers that hearkened back to the '80's and John Travolta and Jamie Lee Curtis in Perfect, or Olivia Newton John's "Physical" video. This sheep is channeling the '80s and starting to do some dance moves.
One of the dairy owners (related family, really) hugging a cow. His friends clapped...cheered...took many photos. And he just snuggled up to his cow and mugged for everyone. Probably the only time I'll ever talk about "hugging the cow" when it isn't a euphemism.
When you've run out of money to ride the midway, you can ride the big wooden giraffe. Also a euphemism. It looked difficult to get up there, and then not very exciting once you were. I think it would give me flashbacks to Wall Drug.
Eryn was into milking this year. She milked a fake cow at the kiddie barn, which had an udder full of water, milked another fake cow with a milking machine, and compared udders at the dairy barn. Really what she was fascinated by was not the milking, but the udders. She says "udder" like it's super funny, and had us walk up and down the rows of cows so she could see a few dozen. She's also a big fan of watching sheep get shaved, and was keen on the police dogs. Her favorite swag from the fair was a K-9 unit stuffed dog she named "Dog" and a Fleet Farm key chain that she likes because I keep trying to steal it (not that I want it - I prefer my Marvin the Martian key chain Pooteewheet got me).
Eryn riding the world's largest diaphragm. Could have been left behind by Paul Bunyan's girlfriend - because I saw his shoe last year, but not him. Maybe she'll be at the miracle of birth display in the future, because there's a rather obvious flaw in this birth control device.
Eryn and Kyle scoring root beer. The day was beautiful. First day we've been in years where it wasn't either 95+ degrees, or raining. That did result in a lot of people at the Fair as it was supposedly going to be the only nice day during the last week and the week to come. Although the whole weekend turned out to be pretty nice. In addition to root beer, we had the aforementioned fried Snickers. Fried Oreos. Little donuts. Teriyaki ostrich (overdone and too salty). Corn dogs. A blackberry malt (yum). Kyle had a caramel sundae. A chocolate Kiwanis malt. And much, much more.
A picture for the Lawschool folk, because you haven't seen her in a while. That's her new baby. I ran into all sorts of ex-coworkers at the fair. Nathan the intern, who's going back to Morris, and I crossed paths four times. Kyle spotted the parents of our friend from high school, Mark, but they blended into the crowd before we could say "hello". We're pretty sure we spotted their big, white, three-wheeled motortrike in the motorcycle parking area. They rode it in parades and around town throughout my high-school years, so it's easy to recognize.
We also saw Erik the Hairy Swede's wife at the eco building. She was telling us about the nice man who had stopped right before we got there and was showing her pictures of his girlfriends: pole dancer girlfriend, car show girlfriend, etc. When it was posited that she might show up on his cell phone as eco-car girlfriend, she admitted that he had wanted to take a few photos. She also noted that working with an eco-friendly car display was painful when forced to argue with individuals who would come up and announce that global-warming wasn't real. As if it's the only reason why you shouldn't drive a huge gas-guzzling car.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Sadly, Not Much Has Changed in 1000 Years
“McVay also had the tendancy [sic] after a battle to let go a loud breakage of wind with a smell so strong one receiver described it as 'a putrid death of ages'.”
From Wikipedia, The First McVay
From Wikipedia, The First McVay
Given Two Choices, Where I'd Go to Pick Up Women
The last two days have found me in Bloomington working the kid-friendly habitats. Eryn starts school five days a week in just two weeks, and I'm feeling a little guilty about her losing some of her at-home time because she enjoys it so much. To compensate, and to get her away from the television in all this rain, I offered her an evening at Ikea and an evening at the Mall of America. One day at each has underlined a very important piece of information for me - if I'm ever single again, I will be trying to pick up women at Ikea, not the Mall. Now, it could just be that I was at the amusement park, and I might have noticed more eye candy at Sak's Fifth, but that doesn't change the fact that if you venture toward the center of the Mall, everyone just looks sort of skanky. I know - I was there, so what does that say about me? I untucked my shirt to fit in a little more as I seemed out of place in my semi-dress shoes and no tank top (excuse me..."tag"), so having to purposefully dress down probably underlines how out of place I feel there. Eryn, however, had a cotton candy Kemp's ice cream cone, and a blast, despite sitting in the administrative office for 35 minutes trying to get her season pass (thanks, Uncle Andrew!) fixed because it had inexplicably expired.
Ikea, on the other hand, was sixty minutes of Eryn playing all by herself in the ball pit/Smaland area - meaning without me, there were other kids, while I wandered off to think about getting Pooteewheet a present, followed by 45 minutes on a comfortable couch editing some creative writing (although I could have read a book just as easily) and drinking a soda. The whole time, attractive twenty-year old women and their not-so-unattractive mothers swirled around, purchasing college dorm paraphernalia. Afterwards, we had a perfectly pleasant dinner of kid's macaroni and blueberry pie. Perhaps it's the reality that most people who are at Ikea are there to buy $100+ worth of shelving that upscales the place compared to the Mall. I just know it's much more pleasant, although the Mall does have a better cup of coffee.
Ikea, on the other hand, was sixty minutes of Eryn playing all by herself in the ball pit/Smaland area - meaning without me, there were other kids, while I wandered off to think about getting Pooteewheet a present, followed by 45 minutes on a comfortable couch editing some creative writing (although I could have read a book just as easily) and drinking a soda. The whole time, attractive twenty-year old women and their not-so-unattractive mothers swirled around, purchasing college dorm paraphernalia. Afterwards, we had a perfectly pleasant dinner of kid's macaroni and blueberry pie. Perhaps it's the reality that most people who are at Ikea are there to buy $100+ worth of shelving that upscales the place compared to the Mall. I just know it's much more pleasant, although the Mall does have a better cup of coffee.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
More Recent?
A more recent version of IE...to work with your own tools/formats? Really...? How much more recent do I have to be? And how the hell am I supposed to run it if it's optimized for future versions?
Agnes Moorehead
Reading a post at Out of the Jungle convinced me that I should finally go look at this wikiscanner thing the nets have been discussing. I input my employer (who has many associated affiliates) and found out that they're not scrubbing their own entries, so much as someone at one affiliate is spending a lot of time updating things like the personal life of Agnes Moorehead. And people sometimes suspect that I have a lot of free time at work - ha! I did learn that Agnes died of uterine cancer in my state (down in Rochester - presumably at Mayo), and that she was a conservative kook in her later days, giving most of her stuff to Bob Jones University. And she lived on Moorehead Manor - doesn't Bob Jones University have to decline Moorehead? You know, for Biblical reasons.
Monday, August 20, 2007
He's a Liar
Sighted at work, a manager's office with a "Dull Moments Log" on his white board. Underneath it - nothing. He's a damn liar.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Star Trek Poker Primer
I'm worried that my work friends may not be eating lunch together any more because they don't like each other's hobbies. TallBrad talks poker. Mr. Mustard talks sci fi. Me...I like both, so I'm square in the middle. What to do? I think what's required is a way to get us on a common page so we can go back to clogging our arteries at Culver's and distending our stomaches at Chipotle. In that spirit, I offer a Star Trek Poker Primer:
Phil Hellmuth, Jr., in his book "Play Poker Like the Pros" breaks down poker players into several animal types to describe their styles of play. There is the:
Eagle - the expert, reads other players, knows the statistics, has more experience than you. Play against him if you want to take second, but learn a few things.
Mouse - a conservative player who sticks to the top 10 hands, AA, AK, KK, AQ, QQ...etc. Tight is right works quite often, but if you never take a chance, you'll usually lose more than you win.
Elephant - a player who is fairly loose, never believes you if you're bluffing, never believes you if you're not bluffing, and calls it all. In a game of Bullshit or Liar's Dice, they'd just give you that look every time that says, "Why even ask?"
Jackal - is loose, wild and crazy. Who knows what they're doing or why they do it. Who knows why they're at the game in the first place if they never pay attention to how anyone else plays. Most likely to splash a bet. Most likely to talk about their hands or offer unpolite commentary on the cards in the middle of the table.
Lion - a lion bluffs, but isn't tight - somewhere between an elephant and a mouse. They could be on their way to becoming an eagle, but may be content to rely upon the skills they already have to get by with a better than 50/50 season, which is really all anyone needs to make money.
Aarghh...you might write on a cave wall. This is poker - and it's god-awful boring. Next you'll be talking statistics and dissecting why your pair of snowmen with just one out in a heads up match was a good call given the pot stake and your carnal knowledge of your opponent. Not to fear...I shall know provide you with the Star Trek part.
Scooter's Guide to Star Trek player types (and a few other things) - with a tendency to adhere to the original series, and for good reason, because if you have to play poker against a type Wesley Crusher, you should just slap the fucktard and head home:
James T. Kirk - loose cannon, calls anything - because he believes he always wins. It doesn't matter that others help him win in other arenas of his life. He believes he's always going to come out on top, and that includes coming out on top despite his own merits in a game of poker. He only has for the Green Woman at the end of the game, and so he shows no restraint. If you challenge him and he feels it's personal, he'll call. If you raise, and he thinks your chip stack belittles his manhood, he'll call. He's not calling your bluff because he doesn't believe you. He's calling your bluff because that's....what...a man...would...do.
Evil Alternate Universe Kirk - far more dangerous than Kirk. He's exactly like Kirk - he's not alternate at all. Except when he takes it personally, he guns for you. He's not calling every challenge to his manhood at the table, he's challenging you. You, personally, bother him, and he could care less if he goes down, as long as he takes you with him.
Spock - a player who knows the stats and plays them. This player is tight and emotionless, except for the occasional raised eyebrow when you do something particularly questionable. But being half Vulcan, this is enough to give them away - they do show the slightest tell. There are full Vulcans out there who are cold-blooded, non-emotional, poker machines. He (or she) has memorized out percentages for the turn and the river (4th and 5th cards in the center) and can quote them to you. When they lose a game, they can tell you why, given the odds, they should have won. They may be able to tell you everyone's tell, but only if they learned the tell from a book they read. Dangerous to red-shirted newbies.
Leonard "Bones" McCoy - I'm a doctor, Jim, not a... Bone's isn't good with the statistics, but he is a good reader of people. He sits squarely between the Kirks and the Spocks and tries to take advantage of their weaknesses by declaring them both unfit to be captain. He can tell you what you did wrong, but generally doesn't. He may show a little bit of frustration, but you're never entirely sure why. You just know your poker prospects aren't as healthy as they should be. He plays flawlessly with his normal crew, and reads their chip and hand health in ways that would surprise you, but may be a little disconcerted when a new player joins the fray, particularly a Vulcan, as his experience is with the half Vulcan who lives next door.
Scotty - if I just had a spanner. A player who seems amazingly competent, despite assertions to the contrary. They seem incredibly disorganized, but somewhere under all that mess is a ticking machine that is analyzing everything and trying to find an edge. They're trying to learn the game as they go - and if they see it played right, they might just learn the angles you don't want them to have. Scotty-s play well. But a good player knows a Scotty is smart, but inexperienced and looking for new skills, and can take advantage of that by handing them a few hands of fizzbin.
Uhuru - sexist or not, there are players who wear short skirts, talk a lot, and are overtly distracting - for calculated effect. They're more likely to have a name that implies "Bend Me Over" than "Freedom". Worry about them - they have a mind unlike yours, and this makes them a tough nut to crack when you're trying to stare at their cleavage. An Uhuru can be a slash character, to borrow from D&D parlance. Uhuru/Spock. Uhuru/Scotty. Seldom Uhuru/Kirk. There are male equivalents - but there are more men playing poker than women, so it's not as noticeable.
Sulu/Chekov - Sulu and Chekov where the helmsmans and navigator, respectively. These are players who know their way around the table and have some experience, but haven't quite found their own style yet. What they really are is just one step above a...
Red Shirt - thank a beneficent universe for red shirts. Fresh meat that has to consult a hand chart to know that a flush beats a straight. Old meat that's too stupid to realize giving away $40 every week adds up to over $2000 a year. The pot wouldn't be as tantalizing without all of their money bulking out the chips.
Khan - the player who knows you. They don't know poker. They know you. You went to school with them, maybe elementary, maybe high school, maybe college, maybe all three. Perhaps they were your roommate. They probably know with whom you lost your virginity and where you had your first blackout. Khan is your uber-nemesis in poker, despite being a good friend, because s/he knows every single thing about you, right down to how you scratch your ring finger knuckle below your wedding ring when Uhuru gives you wood. This f*cker is relentless, despite being your best friend. They will use their knowledge of your entire life against you. On a positive note: you are probably their Khan.
The Enterprise - the ship. This is really what you want to be - a machine that isn't the sum of its mechanical parts, but the sum of its crew. You want to be a bit psychotic, my manhood/womanhood is being questioned, emotional, Kirk. Coupled with Spock's knowledge of the statistical game. Married to McCoy's experience with people and tells. Backed up by a brain working like Scotty's to learn everything there is to see. Hell, you want a little bit of Uhuru, the distractor, and even a little bit of everyone-thinks-I'm-going-to-die red shirt in your game to make everything solid. Pick the crew member appropriate to the situation and play to the strengths, and you'll be facing down Doomsday machines by feeding up other captains when you see those bad beats looming on the universal horizon.
Some odds and ends:
Amok Time - in poker, this is called "Heads Up". You and someone else are the last two left at the table and go mano-a-mano in some pon farr, with no Bones to pull your ass out of the fire. You might as well hum the theme in your head, because second place is for losers. Talk about your second place win for the next year - you still didn't get T'Pring, you just had to run home crying to T'Pau. This is where you want to be. And there's always theme music, even if the bitch across the table is humming Wilco.
Tribbles - as in, The Trouble With... Focusing on so much on the details that you aren't paying attention to the game. This can happen if you read a lot of poker books. You start counting all the outs. You start thinking about your out odds and pot odds. You look for tells that don't exist. Tribbles everywhere and, like Spock, they're making really annoying noises. Best recourse - talk to a Romulan or Klingon - they're good bouncing boards and will help you see that some of it just doesn't matter.
Devil in the Dark - some screwed up, completely not understandable event that causes you to lose. A bad beat. A silicon surprise in your darkest tunnel. You pull an A-A and an A on the flop, and some numbnut pulls down A through 10 suited at the same time. If the metaphor doesn't work for you, then picture instead waking up and finding your brain in a glass bubble, or some blue woman scamming on you until you find yourself in a dalek-esque wheelchair...it's just going to be a bad day.
Phil Hellmuth, Jr., in his book "Play Poker Like the Pros" breaks down poker players into several animal types to describe their styles of play. There is the:
Eagle - the expert, reads other players, knows the statistics, has more experience than you. Play against him if you want to take second, but learn a few things.
Mouse - a conservative player who sticks to the top 10 hands, AA, AK, KK, AQ, QQ...etc. Tight is right works quite often, but if you never take a chance, you'll usually lose more than you win.
Elephant - a player who is fairly loose, never believes you if you're bluffing, never believes you if you're not bluffing, and calls it all. In a game of Bullshit or Liar's Dice, they'd just give you that look every time that says, "Why even ask?"
Jackal - is loose, wild and crazy. Who knows what they're doing or why they do it. Who knows why they're at the game in the first place if they never pay attention to how anyone else plays. Most likely to splash a bet. Most likely to talk about their hands or offer unpolite commentary on the cards in the middle of the table.
Lion - a lion bluffs, but isn't tight - somewhere between an elephant and a mouse. They could be on their way to becoming an eagle, but may be content to rely upon the skills they already have to get by with a better than 50/50 season, which is really all anyone needs to make money.
Aarghh...you might write on a cave wall. This is poker - and it's god-awful boring. Next you'll be talking statistics and dissecting why your pair of snowmen with just one out in a heads up match was a good call given the pot stake and your carnal knowledge of your opponent. Not to fear...I shall know provide you with the Star Trek part.
Scooter's Guide to Star Trek player types (and a few other things) - with a tendency to adhere to the original series, and for good reason, because if you have to play poker against a type Wesley Crusher, you should just slap the fucktard and head home:
James T. Kirk - loose cannon, calls anything - because he believes he always wins. It doesn't matter that others help him win in other arenas of his life. He believes he's always going to come out on top, and that includes coming out on top despite his own merits in a game of poker. He only has for the Green Woman at the end of the game, and so he shows no restraint. If you challenge him and he feels it's personal, he'll call. If you raise, and he thinks your chip stack belittles his manhood, he'll call. He's not calling your bluff because he doesn't believe you. He's calling your bluff because that's....what...a man...would...do.
Evil Alternate Universe Kirk - far more dangerous than Kirk. He's exactly like Kirk - he's not alternate at all. Except when he takes it personally, he guns for you. He's not calling every challenge to his manhood at the table, he's challenging you. You, personally, bother him, and he could care less if he goes down, as long as he takes you with him.
Spock - a player who knows the stats and plays them. This player is tight and emotionless, except for the occasional raised eyebrow when you do something particularly questionable. But being half Vulcan, this is enough to give them away - they do show the slightest tell. There are full Vulcans out there who are cold-blooded, non-emotional, poker machines. He (or she) has memorized out percentages for the turn and the river (4th and 5th cards in the center) and can quote them to you. When they lose a game, they can tell you why, given the odds, they should have won. They may be able to tell you everyone's tell, but only if they learned the tell from a book they read. Dangerous to red-shirted newbies.
Leonard "Bones" McCoy - I'm a doctor, Jim, not a... Bone's isn't good with the statistics, but he is a good reader of people. He sits squarely between the Kirks and the Spocks and tries to take advantage of their weaknesses by declaring them both unfit to be captain. He can tell you what you did wrong, but generally doesn't. He may show a little bit of frustration, but you're never entirely sure why. You just know your poker prospects aren't as healthy as they should be. He plays flawlessly with his normal crew, and reads their chip and hand health in ways that would surprise you, but may be a little disconcerted when a new player joins the fray, particularly a Vulcan, as his experience is with the half Vulcan who lives next door.
Scotty - if I just had a spanner. A player who seems amazingly competent, despite assertions to the contrary. They seem incredibly disorganized, but somewhere under all that mess is a ticking machine that is analyzing everything and trying to find an edge. They're trying to learn the game as they go - and if they see it played right, they might just learn the angles you don't want them to have. Scotty-s play well. But a good player knows a Scotty is smart, but inexperienced and looking for new skills, and can take advantage of that by handing them a few hands of fizzbin.
Uhuru - sexist or not, there are players who wear short skirts, talk a lot, and are overtly distracting - for calculated effect. They're more likely to have a name that implies "Bend Me Over" than "Freedom". Worry about them - they have a mind unlike yours, and this makes them a tough nut to crack when you're trying to stare at their cleavage. An Uhuru can be a slash character, to borrow from D&D parlance. Uhuru/Spock. Uhuru/Scotty. Seldom Uhuru/Kirk. There are male equivalents - but there are more men playing poker than women, so it's not as noticeable.
Sulu/Chekov - Sulu and Chekov where the helmsmans and navigator, respectively. These are players who know their way around the table and have some experience, but haven't quite found their own style yet. What they really are is just one step above a...
Red Shirt - thank a beneficent universe for red shirts. Fresh meat that has to consult a hand chart to know that a flush beats a straight. Old meat that's too stupid to realize giving away $40 every week adds up to over $2000 a year. The pot wouldn't be as tantalizing without all of their money bulking out the chips.
Khan - the player who knows you. They don't know poker. They know you. You went to school with them, maybe elementary, maybe high school, maybe college, maybe all three. Perhaps they were your roommate. They probably know with whom you lost your virginity and where you had your first blackout. Khan is your uber-nemesis in poker, despite being a good friend, because s/he knows every single thing about you, right down to how you scratch your ring finger knuckle below your wedding ring when Uhuru gives you wood. This f*cker is relentless, despite being your best friend. They will use their knowledge of your entire life against you. On a positive note: you are probably their Khan.
The Enterprise - the ship. This is really what you want to be - a machine that isn't the sum of its mechanical parts, but the sum of its crew. You want to be a bit psychotic, my manhood/womanhood is being questioned, emotional, Kirk. Coupled with Spock's knowledge of the statistical game. Married to McCoy's experience with people and tells. Backed up by a brain working like Scotty's to learn everything there is to see. Hell, you want a little bit of Uhuru, the distractor, and even a little bit of everyone-thinks-I'm-going-to-die red shirt in your game to make everything solid. Pick the crew member appropriate to the situation and play to the strengths, and you'll be facing down Doomsday machines by feeding up other captains when you see those bad beats looming on the universal horizon.
Some odds and ends:
Amok Time - in poker, this is called "Heads Up". You and someone else are the last two left at the table and go mano-a-mano in some pon farr, with no Bones to pull your ass out of the fire. You might as well hum the theme in your head, because second place is for losers. Talk about your second place win for the next year - you still didn't get T'Pring, you just had to run home crying to T'Pau. This is where you want to be. And there's always theme music, even if the bitch across the table is humming Wilco.
Tribbles - as in, The Trouble With... Focusing on so much on the details that you aren't paying attention to the game. This can happen if you read a lot of poker books. You start counting all the outs. You start thinking about your out odds and pot odds. You look for tells that don't exist. Tribbles everywhere and, like Spock, they're making really annoying noises. Best recourse - talk to a Romulan or Klingon - they're good bouncing boards and will help you see that some of it just doesn't matter.
Devil in the Dark - some screwed up, completely not understandable event that causes you to lose. A bad beat. A silicon surprise in your darkest tunnel. You pull an A-A and an A on the flop, and some numbnut pulls down A through 10 suited at the same time. If the metaphor doesn't work for you, then picture instead waking up and finding your brain in a glass bubble, or some blue woman scamming on you until you find yourself in a dalek-esque wheelchair...it's just going to be a bad day.
NowThen Threshing Show 2007
As a second annual tradition - Kyle, Eryn and I went to the NowThen Threshing Show. This year Kyle added his brother Matthew and nephew Jonny and our friend Dan'l and his son, Conner. The huge breakfast at Kyle's house was the same, with the exception of me bubbling over the coffee maker and getting grounds everywhere, but that's where the similarities ended. Unlike last year, when it was scathingly hot outside, this year it was pouring. Pouring enough to cancel rides on the little train. Enough to cancel the hayrides behind the horse. Enough to cancel the tractor pull. Enough to cancel the farmer garage sale. Enough to cancel the Parade of Power. Enough to encourage the purchasing of hot chocolate instead of pop. It was crazy wet. Dan'l seemed to think everyone was crazy for sticking around for a while - but I always figure as long as the kids are running around and looking at things, or willing to get up from where they are and run around to look at things when you give them a little kick, it's not that bad. There are extensive pictures here - but I'll offer commentary on a few of the highlights.
If I win the 1957 John Deere drawing, you'll know I wasn't crazy to go - although I suspect I'll take the optional $1500 in cash.
First of all - the rain. This was before it got muddy. Right to the left of this picture is a tractor pulling support vehicle with a big "Mycogen" sign on it. That was personally funny, as I worked for Mycogen as a contractor creating seed database incentive programs before they were bought out and ripped apart for their seed patents and all the employees except the scientists dumped. Several of them work at my current company now.
Per Kyle - parking was indeed easy. No problems finding it afterwards, although you had to stay out of the way of the ambulance that was supposed to be coming. Someone in the kitchen had suffered a threshing mishap.
Dan and I saw this guy at the metalsmith shed. Dan wanted to know why he was shearing a cat. I was similarly concerned until I finally saw the eye blink and realized it wasn't a cat ear, but a bunny eye. When we left the building, we got about ten feet from the shed and Eryn asked Dan and I, "What was that guy doing to that cat?" We got a good chuckle out of that. Eryn and Conner talked to one of the smiths for a while - he was pretty happy to have an attentive audience to witness his dutch elm bannister creation and encouraged their participation in deciding whether the fire was hot enough.
Who says tractor shows aren't funny. THIS is funny. Don't think so - if you're at work scream it loudly, and when someone asks what the hell is wrong with you, tell them you really like tractors. Then you'll know it's funny.
Eryn, waiting for her hot chocolate to cool off so she can warm up.
Conner - grimacing for the camera. The tractor trailer rides were about the only thing running - so we did a few turns on them. They were also extremely useful for finding lost members of your party.
Eryn and Jonny - probably gives you an idea of how much rain there was. Kyle and Matthew didn't have umbrellas, even with the extra we toted along - so they were pretty wet after the first salvo.
Kyle's picture that he entitled "WITNESS THE PARADE OF POWER!!!" It would be a good page for their 2008 Threshing Show calendar.
There's always a way to warm up.
If you still don't feel immersed in the wettest Threshing Show ever, I offer you a NodToNothing exclusive - a virtual tractor trailer ride...
In one area, a guy was running a carousel and swing driven by some belts. He had used various stuffed animals to populate the rides, and they were looking seriously ratty after being hauled through the rain and mud. When we got there, it was starting to look less like an idyllic "It's a Small World" scene, and more like a nightmare out of a Gaiman book. The carousel:
And the swings:
If I win the 1957 John Deere drawing, you'll know I wasn't crazy to go - although I suspect I'll take the optional $1500 in cash.
First of all - the rain. This was before it got muddy. Right to the left of this picture is a tractor pulling support vehicle with a big "Mycogen" sign on it. That was personally funny, as I worked for Mycogen as a contractor creating seed database incentive programs before they were bought out and ripped apart for their seed patents and all the employees except the scientists dumped. Several of them work at my current company now.
Per Kyle - parking was indeed easy. No problems finding it afterwards, although you had to stay out of the way of the ambulance that was supposed to be coming. Someone in the kitchen had suffered a threshing mishap.
Dan and I saw this guy at the metalsmith shed. Dan wanted to know why he was shearing a cat. I was similarly concerned until I finally saw the eye blink and realized it wasn't a cat ear, but a bunny eye. When we left the building, we got about ten feet from the shed and Eryn asked Dan and I, "What was that guy doing to that cat?" We got a good chuckle out of that. Eryn and Conner talked to one of the smiths for a while - he was pretty happy to have an attentive audience to witness his dutch elm bannister creation and encouraged their participation in deciding whether the fire was hot enough.
Who says tractor shows aren't funny. THIS is funny. Don't think so - if you're at work scream it loudly, and when someone asks what the hell is wrong with you, tell them you really like tractors. Then you'll know it's funny.
Eryn, waiting for her hot chocolate to cool off so she can warm up.
Conner - grimacing for the camera. The tractor trailer rides were about the only thing running - so we did a few turns on them. They were also extremely useful for finding lost members of your party.
Eryn and Jonny - probably gives you an idea of how much rain there was. Kyle and Matthew didn't have umbrellas, even with the extra we toted along - so they were pretty wet after the first salvo.
Kyle's picture that he entitled "WITNESS THE PARADE OF POWER!!!" It would be a good page for their 2008 Threshing Show calendar.
There's always a way to warm up.
If you still don't feel immersed in the wettest Threshing Show ever, I offer you a NodToNothing exclusive - a virtual tractor trailer ride...
In one area, a guy was running a carousel and swing driven by some belts. He had used various stuffed animals to populate the rides, and they were looking seriously ratty after being hauled through the rain and mud. When we got there, it was starting to look less like an idyllic "It's a Small World" scene, and more like a nightmare out of a Gaiman book. The carousel:
And the swings:
Work Quote
Some days you walk past a lot of cubes and overhear a lot of peculiar phone conversations...
"Men are going to notice you more. Lots more. Your husband is going to appreciate that."
I bet she made it into the management preparation program.
"Men are going to notice you more. Lots more. Your husband is going to appreciate that."
I bet she made it into the management preparation program.
Friday, August 17, 2007
Pet Peeve
I have a pet peeve. See if you can guess what it is.
So last night, I found myself extremely sick, the kind of illness with copious, clothes-soaking sweating, and simultaneously muscle-rending chills. The sort of experience I only expect to have when I quit drinking for more than 24 hours, or lose my dealer in a drive by. By 1:30 a.m. it seemed the perfect storm of symptoms, leaving me miserable and close to non-functioning. But by 7:00 a.m., having told Pooteewheet that I was not going to be out of office for both her sickness and my own, and certainly not on only my second day in my new, pole-free cube, I willed the little bugs into submission with a perfect storm of mental acrobatics and hoofed it into work, a bit late, but earlier than most, and suffering from only enough sweating that it could be controlled with a bootlegged Chipotle napkin. Or four. One might question why I have several dozen Chipotle napkins in my cube, to which I must say, a love of burritos, a well-paying job as a sort-of developer slash business analyst, and recycled napkins equals a perfect storm. I was going to park in the back lot, but the perfect storm of coincidences that led to my sickness and pseudo-recuperation, with just enough lateness to be further out than normal, plus extra people in early hoping to leave early -to take advantage of the end of summer led me to the front lot. Do you think I had to park way out in the third lot? Hell no. There was an opening in the second lot, square in the middle of a number of cars that had parked thirty minutes earlier. A perfect f*cking parking storm. On the way in, I didn't bump into anyone I knew which, given the perfect storm circumstances surrounding my inlaws giving me the flu by passing it to my wife and daughter, was in itself a perfect storm, because I was able to keep my contagion away from everyone except Mean Mr. Mustard, who was only concerned that any perfect storms, even perfect storms within perfect storms, be just imperfect enough to allow the delivery of a few thermos of coffee. I was happy to see him, because his trip to California was the coincidence he needed to pick up the drug company swag from his youth that he knew I coveted to give to my friend the Hamline professor who collects such things. Retro drug paraphernalia - classic. Intersections necessary to put it in the hands of my master's thesis prof - a g*ddamn, motherf*cking perfect storm.
So last night, I found myself extremely sick, the kind of illness with copious, clothes-soaking sweating, and simultaneously muscle-rending chills. The sort of experience I only expect to have when I quit drinking for more than 24 hours, or lose my dealer in a drive by. By 1:30 a.m. it seemed the perfect storm of symptoms, leaving me miserable and close to non-functioning. But by 7:00 a.m., having told Pooteewheet that I was not going to be out of office for both her sickness and my own, and certainly not on only my second day in my new, pole-free cube, I willed the little bugs into submission with a perfect storm of mental acrobatics and hoofed it into work, a bit late, but earlier than most, and suffering from only enough sweating that it could be controlled with a bootlegged Chipotle napkin. Or four. One might question why I have several dozen Chipotle napkins in my cube, to which I must say, a love of burritos, a well-paying job as a sort-of developer slash business analyst, and recycled napkins equals a perfect storm. I was going to park in the back lot, but the perfect storm of coincidences that led to my sickness and pseudo-recuperation, with just enough lateness to be further out than normal, plus extra people in early hoping to leave early -to take advantage of the end of summer led me to the front lot. Do you think I had to park way out in the third lot? Hell no. There was an opening in the second lot, square in the middle of a number of cars that had parked thirty minutes earlier. A perfect f*cking parking storm. On the way in, I didn't bump into anyone I knew which, given the perfect storm circumstances surrounding my inlaws giving me the flu by passing it to my wife and daughter, was in itself a perfect storm, because I was able to keep my contagion away from everyone except Mean Mr. Mustard, who was only concerned that any perfect storms, even perfect storms within perfect storms, be just imperfect enough to allow the delivery of a few thermos of coffee. I was happy to see him, because his trip to California was the coincidence he needed to pick up the drug company swag from his youth that he knew I coveted to give to my friend the Hamline professor who collects such things. Retro drug paraphernalia - classic. Intersections necessary to put it in the hands of my master's thesis prof - a g*ddamn, motherf*cking perfect storm.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
There's a Lesson...
There's a lesson to be learned here. That lesson is, Gulf War I Vets shouldn't throw tampons out the window at a friend, unless that friend is seriously injured.
Claim: Tampon used to stanch deadly wound saves Marine's life.
Claim: Tampon used to stanch deadly wound saves Marine's life.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Cooties!
The Scooter household machine was down for the last 24 hours while I determined the best way to eliminate an outbreak of Vundo. Norton Antivirus - didn't work so well. VundoFix - worked much better. Of course, once you have some sort of infection on your machine, there's always the mandatory, update all virus definitions, and then check and update the other machine, until you're sick of the things scanning 650,000 files each (iTunes and photos take forever).
I lose my pole tonight. Seriously...it's gone. I shall no longer be like Mr. Incredible of The Incredibles with a huge pole dominating my cube. I'm moving to some cushy windows digs. I was whistling as I rolled my chair and computer peripherals over there today.
Eryn isn't quite so lucky. Her "Sarge" die cast toy from Cars was one of those recalled for lead-based paint. Guess sending her to the local private school isn't going to work out after all. She was very sad. And if you know me, you know I couldn't resist pointing out that perhaps all of her die cast cars from Cars were suspect. She went into what looked like immediate methhead withdrawal/get-a-fix mode, eyes wide, and bargaining to keep them around. She looked a little irritated with me when I said I was kidding.
My best of Loverboy CD came in the mail today - used, approximately $6.50 with shipping and handling. If there were any doubts as to my geek credentials on various fronts, that should seal it.
I finished the last Harry Potter book. Usually I don't get them until after the first year or two has passed - but I had access to a copy and burned through it while waiting for the virus scans to complete. That way I could get back to my book on programming and Domain Specific Languages. I'm going to post about that - I think it's cool, but it'll probably put some of you to sleep.
I think everyone's done being sick here. By everyone, I mean everyone but me. Which is good, because it might mean I don't have to sleep on the couch anymore to avoid infection. Yep - computer infected, daughter infected, wife infected. A pretty serious Trojan.
I lose my pole tonight. Seriously...it's gone. I shall no longer be like Mr. Incredible of The Incredibles with a huge pole dominating my cube. I'm moving to some cushy windows digs. I was whistling as I rolled my chair and computer peripherals over there today.
Eryn isn't quite so lucky. Her "Sarge" die cast toy from Cars was one of those recalled for lead-based paint. Guess sending her to the local private school isn't going to work out after all. She was very sad. And if you know me, you know I couldn't resist pointing out that perhaps all of her die cast cars from Cars were suspect. She went into what looked like immediate methhead withdrawal/get-a-fix mode, eyes wide, and bargaining to keep them around. She looked a little irritated with me when I said I was kidding.
My best of Loverboy CD came in the mail today - used, approximately $6.50 with shipping and handling. If there were any doubts as to my geek credentials on various fronts, that should seal it.
I finished the last Harry Potter book. Usually I don't get them until after the first year or two has passed - but I had access to a copy and burned through it while waiting for the virus scans to complete. That way I could get back to my book on programming and Domain Specific Languages. I'm going to post about that - I think it's cool, but it'll probably put some of you to sleep.
I think everyone's done being sick here. By everyone, I mean everyone but me. Which is good, because it might mean I don't have to sleep on the couch anymore to avoid infection. Yep - computer infected, daughter infected, wife infected. A pretty serious Trojan.
Monday, August 13, 2007
Storm
Eryn and I spent part of the last two days riding around the neighborhood checking out the storm damage. I promised her when I got back from RAGBRAI we'd try the tagalong, and she loves it. We rode a little more than eight miles yesterday and another six today, and only stopped because I said I was worn out from the exercise and heat. Grandpa has the pictures - set 1, set 2, set 3.
During our ride, we saw a lot of downed trees, though none as big as the willow section that went down directly behind us, a tipped over porta toilet, and one extremely large branch that had landed square on the hood, windshield and roof of a new pickup that had been parked in a driveway. Our only damage was a great big willow branch landing on Pooteewheet's green peppers. They seem to have survived, and I turned the willow into a number of pieces of firewood for fall marshmallow roasts.
One of our two immediate neighbors, however, lost some nice fruit trees because the dead trees he hadn't cut down yet topped during the storm and the large chunks landed on top of the smaller fruit trees. Doh! I thought it was cool that I had before and after pictures, but only because I had a weird post about a Bhodi Tree from three years ago. Pooteewheet graciously tried to replicate the angle for me.
Before:
After:
On our way to the carousel at Como today to see Grandpa (yep - I was home on Monday, but only because Grandpa and Grandma gave my wife a killer case of something that looks like Norwalk, although that diagnosis came from my sister, who's Norwalk paranoid since she and my niece came down with it...I think she just needs to believe other people are as careless with their poop as she is), Eryn and I stopped by Mean Mr. Mustard's house to make sure everything looks o.k. We couldn't get a good angle on the complete yard, but it looked whole, and so did the neighbors' houses - so that's probably a good sign. Como Park, not so far away, did not fare nearly as well. It's amazing that none of the structures up there were damaged. MNSpeak has a good series of links to some pictures. We did see one house under several blue drops that had been clobbered, not too far from the park - but given that all the trees in the park look like they had exploded, that seemed minimal.
This is the far side of the picnic area where all the bark had been ripped from the trees.
They were already clearing away lots of the wood and had sections sealed off as dangerous. This is near where my company has their corporate picnic each year. Next year there will be a lot less shade - many of the big trees were gone, or shredded and being taken down, and just the little, bendable trees were left.
In the same area. You can see what I mean about the bendable trees.
The general picnic area (as opposed to the sort of huge corporate area with baseball diamonds) seemed to get hit the worst. The picture below was typical of much of the area, and in the picture above if you look deeper into the picture you can see more trees down in the background.
During our ride, we saw a lot of downed trees, though none as big as the willow section that went down directly behind us, a tipped over porta toilet, and one extremely large branch that had landed square on the hood, windshield and roof of a new pickup that had been parked in a driveway. Our only damage was a great big willow branch landing on Pooteewheet's green peppers. They seem to have survived, and I turned the willow into a number of pieces of firewood for fall marshmallow roasts.
One of our two immediate neighbors, however, lost some nice fruit trees because the dead trees he hadn't cut down yet topped during the storm and the large chunks landed on top of the smaller fruit trees. Doh! I thought it was cool that I had before and after pictures, but only because I had a weird post about a Bhodi Tree from three years ago. Pooteewheet graciously tried to replicate the angle for me.
Before:
After:
On our way to the carousel at Como today to see Grandpa (yep - I was home on Monday, but only because Grandpa and Grandma gave my wife a killer case of something that looks like Norwalk, although that diagnosis came from my sister, who's Norwalk paranoid since she and my niece came down with it...I think she just needs to believe other people are as careless with their poop as she is), Eryn and I stopped by Mean Mr. Mustard's house to make sure everything looks o.k. We couldn't get a good angle on the complete yard, but it looked whole, and so did the neighbors' houses - so that's probably a good sign. Como Park, not so far away, did not fare nearly as well. It's amazing that none of the structures up there were damaged. MNSpeak has a good series of links to some pictures. We did see one house under several blue drops that had been clobbered, not too far from the park - but given that all the trees in the park look like they had exploded, that seemed minimal.
This is the far side of the picnic area where all the bark had been ripped from the trees.
They were already clearing away lots of the wood and had sections sealed off as dangerous. This is near where my company has their corporate picnic each year. Next year there will be a lot less shade - many of the big trees were gone, or shredded and being taken down, and just the little, bendable trees were left.
In the same area. You can see what I mean about the bendable trees.
The general picnic area (as opposed to the sort of huge corporate area with baseball diamonds) seemed to get hit the worst. The picture below was typical of much of the area, and in the picture above if you look deeper into the picture you can see more trees down in the background.
Medicine
I was watching a commercial today that touted a drug that was good for "your heart and prostrate" and I had the unfortunate idea that it involves administering your heart medicine by suppository twice an hour.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Tubes
So, there was that little issue of the tube that should have had a schrader valve, that instead had a presta value, that Freewheel bicycle gave my dad for his ride across Iowa, even though he told them he was bike illiterate and they had his bicycle sitting in front of them - i.e. he was buying it from them at that time.
After RAGBRAI, he went back to complain, and they comped him three tubes for his one presta tube. Except today, I pulled my Trek 7300, same Trek as his, different color, off the back of the car as it had come back from Freewheel, and noticed the flat tire was still flat. No big deal - they might have just assumed it had deflated over the week - it had a very slow leak. I yanked the back wheel, pried the tube off, grabbed one of the two tubes Dad had left with me...and it was the wrong size. Way too wide. Surprised, I went over to his bike - still in my garage until it can be shipped south - and, as suspected, it had the same size wheel as mine. They replaced his one inaccurate presta tube, with three inaccurate schrader tubes.
I went to Freewheel because I've always liked their competence, particularly compared to Erik's and the Penn in my neighborhood - but I'm starting to suspect that it was a very bad idea.
After RAGBRAI, he went back to complain, and they comped him three tubes for his one presta tube. Except today, I pulled my Trek 7300, same Trek as his, different color, off the back of the car as it had come back from Freewheel, and noticed the flat tire was still flat. No big deal - they might have just assumed it had deflated over the week - it had a very slow leak. I yanked the back wheel, pried the tube off, grabbed one of the two tubes Dad had left with me...and it was the wrong size. Way too wide. Surprised, I went over to his bike - still in my garage until it can be shipped south - and, as suspected, it had the same size wheel as mine. They replaced his one inaccurate presta tube, with three inaccurate schrader tubes.
I went to Freewheel because I've always liked their competence, particularly compared to Erik's and the Penn in my neighborhood - but I'm starting to suspect that it was a very bad idea.
Thursday, August 09, 2007
Busy Week - Juventas, Spam, UnWilcoing, Pre-My Little Ponying
I think I'm getting cultural overload. On Sunday, we met up with Ming's family to see Circus Juventas (galleries) perform "Atlanticus". Don't worry if you don't know who they are - you'd have to live here in Minnesota. Circus Juventas is a collection of approximately 7th grade through college junior kids who get together and practice for who knows how long so they can put on the equivalent of Cirque du Soleil: lots of costumes, trapeze, three-person contortionist sculptures that look incredibly hard to hold, flipping around on ribbons and rings and chandeliers 30-50' off the ground, teeter totter bouncing tricks, the Russian swing (not a sex act - but a platform that you can ride in a 360 degree circle), juggling, the German wheel (also not a sex act), ladder tricks, jump rope tricks, etc. All of it wrapped with dancing and a rather haphazard story about a giant pearl found by some explorers, desired by a bad octopus guy, and eventually returned to the king of Atlanticus. Personally, I was impressed that Ming's wife was willing to let Eryn sit on her through a chunk of the circus - that shows almost as much physical prowess as the contortionists. Although I don't think their legs fell asleep like hers did.
There was popcorn.
Then last night, we went to Spamalot at the Ordway. It was funny, and there were definitely some Monty-Pythonish pieces to it, but in some ways it reminded me more of a Mel Brooks production than Monty Python. I think it was the self-referential Broadway show humor - just a bit too The Producers - and the Jewish bits. Although those were also some of the best bits. It was the banter at the end, more than anything, that was Monty Python, and the reenactment of the French knights taunting Arthur, as they added some gestures and gymnastics with the crenelations that weren't in the movie. I saw the coworker who sits closest to me at work there (with her son) and my boss. I guess that's what happens when you buy your tickets from the company store. Although when I bought them, a year ago, I wasn't with my current group, so I didn't even know them then. I think it bodes well that I ended up at a Monty Python event with these coworkers, because I certainly didn't see any of my old coworkers there.
To keep the cultural process moving, I was supposed to go to Wilco next Tuesday in Duluth on tickets I'd won from City Pages, but Tall Brad has to go see the doctor (he's the Wilco fan, and the reason I signed up for the contest), Kyle initially declined, Linzy was already back from Duluth, and Eryn (yes, I was going to take my 4 year old to an outdoor concert in Duluth at 7:30 p.m., 150 miles from home) snubbed me so she could do a birthday party (which I'm taking her to, so I'm sort of snubbing myself). Fortunately for me J.R. Norton, who along with Taylor interviewed me on the podcast at Flak Radio, had played a Wilco song on his "songs that remind me of how so many summers have passed that I'm now old" solocast (I joke - he's young...I'm old - my summer song list includes cuts from Depeche Mode - i.e. "Pipeline" and Thorogood's "One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Beer"), and I suspected he might be as appreciative of the tickets as I was of the Reyka and podcasting experience. He was game, so as of today, there are two Wilco tickets on the way to his house. I bet it will be much more exciting than a fourth birthday party.
Icing on the cake...are you ready? I also picked up two tickets to My Little Pony Live: The World's Biggest Tea Party. Oh yeah...you WISH you were so lucky. Pooteewheet's not. I bought two tickets...not three. Call me passive-aggressive. It's going to be a daddy-daughter bonding experience with Minty, Pinkie Pie and Rarity the Unicorn. I'm hoping a brush with a unicorn keeps her celibate into her 20s. But don't feel bad for me, because I'm just going to be sitting in the audience, all outward signs pointing to how much I'm enjoying the show and music, but in my head will be looping "Fuck Yeah" from the Team America soundtrack.
By the way, they're accepting audition tapes (how to). I'd give a bit of my mojo to be the reviewer on that project. Those have to be some of the funniest damn things ever: "If you are over 18 and are interested in a performer position, we accept video demonstrations. For more information about this process, select below." Select below includes directions like "Take 4 beats and then state your name clearly." I bet they include that just so they can immediately eliminate the idiots who can't count to four or keep and beat. And there's favorite instructions, " YOUR FULL BODY COSTUME ROLE VIDEOTAPE SHOULD INCLUDE:". J-Money, if that whole WXII thing doesn't work out, I think with a little modification you could just reuse your existing video.
There was popcorn.
Then last night, we went to Spamalot at the Ordway. It was funny, and there were definitely some Monty-Pythonish pieces to it, but in some ways it reminded me more of a Mel Brooks production than Monty Python. I think it was the self-referential Broadway show humor - just a bit too The Producers - and the Jewish bits. Although those were also some of the best bits. It was the banter at the end, more than anything, that was Monty Python, and the reenactment of the French knights taunting Arthur, as they added some gestures and gymnastics with the crenelations that weren't in the movie. I saw the coworker who sits closest to me at work there (with her son) and my boss. I guess that's what happens when you buy your tickets from the company store. Although when I bought them, a year ago, I wasn't with my current group, so I didn't even know them then. I think it bodes well that I ended up at a Monty Python event with these coworkers, because I certainly didn't see any of my old coworkers there.
To keep the cultural process moving, I was supposed to go to Wilco next Tuesday in Duluth on tickets I'd won from City Pages, but Tall Brad has to go see the doctor (he's the Wilco fan, and the reason I signed up for the contest), Kyle initially declined, Linzy was already back from Duluth, and Eryn (yes, I was going to take my 4 year old to an outdoor concert in Duluth at 7:30 p.m., 150 miles from home) snubbed me so she could do a birthday party (which I'm taking her to, so I'm sort of snubbing myself). Fortunately for me J.R. Norton, who along with Taylor interviewed me on the podcast at Flak Radio, had played a Wilco song on his "songs that remind me of how so many summers have passed that I'm now old" solocast (I joke - he's young...I'm old - my summer song list includes cuts from Depeche Mode - i.e. "Pipeline" and Thorogood's "One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Beer"), and I suspected he might be as appreciative of the tickets as I was of the Reyka and podcasting experience. He was game, so as of today, there are two Wilco tickets on the way to his house. I bet it will be much more exciting than a fourth birthday party.
Icing on the cake...are you ready? I also picked up two tickets to My Little Pony Live: The World's Biggest Tea Party. Oh yeah...you WISH you were so lucky. Pooteewheet's not. I bought two tickets...not three. Call me passive-aggressive. It's going to be a daddy-daughter bonding experience with Minty, Pinkie Pie and Rarity the Unicorn. I'm hoping a brush with a unicorn keeps her celibate into her 20s. But don't feel bad for me, because I'm just going to be sitting in the audience, all outward signs pointing to how much I'm enjoying the show and music, but in my head will be looping "Fuck Yeah" from the Team America soundtrack.
By the way, they're accepting audition tapes (how to). I'd give a bit of my mojo to be the reviewer on that project. Those have to be some of the funniest damn things ever: "If you are over 18 and are interested in a performer position, we accept video demonstrations. For more information about this process, select below." Select below includes directions like "Take 4 beats and then state your name clearly." I bet they include that just so they can immediately eliminate the idiots who can't count to four or keep and beat. And there's favorite instructions, " YOUR FULL BODY COSTUME ROLE VIDEOTAPE SHOULD INCLUDE:". J-Money, if that whole WXII thing doesn't work out, I think with a little modification you could just reuse your existing video.
Lil' Chub II
Kyle...I can't believe I forgot to show you the lil' chub I had for you yesterday. I meant to put it in my pocket so when we went out for dinner, I could feel around for it, but I forgot. So I have still have the lil' chub I got for you while I was on RAGBRAI. Don't worry, it hasn't gone away. It'll probably still be there in a week. Or two. However long it takes. It's not like someone is going to eat it. Everyone knows it's yours.
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
Blogoversary
In a sort of general way, within a week or so, it's the third year since I started Nod To Nothing. An anniversary. That's a lot of writing. I think the positives are generally that it forces me to think about what it is I've done in the past and change my modus operandi a bit from year to year. While that's not the only reason I do things like RAGBRAI, it contributes. And I meet some fun people who talk to me and trade ideas and interests, even if they don't invite me to their housewarming barbeques. Ahem. You know who you are. And I get to keep up on the day-to-day, or maybe week-to-week is more accurate, happenings of my friends and family, which is a vast improvement over the old snail mail days. And my daughter will have rock solid proof of the things I did as her parent, evidence I sadly lack on my own parents who made me play in cabinets, gave me old pipes and spools as playthings, encouraged me to swim in the ditch at backwater duplexes, and engaged in slave labor by making me glean potatoes and/or tomatoes. All I really have visual proof of is that they dressed me up as a clown.
2007:
1,312 posts since I started, 117,400 hits since the beginning (about 80,000 in 2007) - and I still have blogger friends I talk to on a regular basis. A few more than before, even. I think my hits will drop off a bit though as I transition some of my photos from my old ISP to Flickr. Google images searches hitting my blog accounted for quite a few hits. Easter Penis alone (bottom of the post) seems to account for 17 hits a day. And cuckolding generates quite a bit of interest, even though it really has nothing to do with me other than my penchant to comment on Dan Savage.
Snip from 2006:
"902 posts, over 36,000 hits since I started counting (18,000 in 2005, a little overy 16,000 so far this year and averaging about 2400 a month), and a bunch of blogger friends I like to talk to on a semi-regular basis. Seems respectable, though I obviously don't rate as much over two years as a clever picture on Worth rates in a day. But my value isn't as obvious as the picture - I'm more of an acquired habit."
2007:
1,312 posts since I started, 117,400 hits since the beginning (about 80,000 in 2007) - and I still have blogger friends I talk to on a regular basis. A few more than before, even. I think my hits will drop off a bit though as I transition some of my photos from my old ISP to Flickr. Google images searches hitting my blog accounted for quite a few hits. Easter Penis alone (bottom of the post) seems to account for 17 hits a day. And cuckolding generates quite a bit of interest, even though it really has nothing to do with me other than my penchant to comment on Dan Savage.
Snip from 2006:
"902 posts, over 36,000 hits since I started counting (18,000 in 2005, a little overy 16,000 so far this year and averaging about 2400 a month), and a bunch of blogger friends I like to talk to on a semi-regular basis. Seems respectable, though I obviously don't rate as much over two years as a clever picture on Worth rates in a day. But my value isn't as obvious as the picture - I'm more of an acquired habit."
Reaming
I was trailing behind two women at work, and one noted to the other that she generally respected elders, but that one of them was giving her trouble. At which point she opined, "I wish my father in law was around. He'd ream her ass."
I'm glad I don't work with her father in law. I have enough problems just having a pole in my cube.
I'm glad I don't work with her father in law. I have enough problems just having a pole in my cube.
One Hit Wonder
This is for Tall Brad, because I don't know who else would appreciate a Wilco story.
I was telling a coworker about having tickets to the Wilco concert, but having never listened to Wilco. The coworker pondered whether Wilco was a one hit wonder. I replied that I couldn't even name one hit, because I had only heard the odd Wilco song here and there. Said coworker replied, in all seriousness, "Didn't they do 'Rock Me Amadeus'?"
I had to quit laughing before I responded, "No...that was Falco."
I was telling a coworker about having tickets to the Wilco concert, but having never listened to Wilco. The coworker pondered whether Wilco was a one hit wonder. I replied that I couldn't even name one hit, because I had only heard the odd Wilco song here and there. Said coworker replied, in all seriousness, "Didn't they do 'Rock Me Amadeus'?"
I had to quit laughing before I responded, "No...that was Falco."
Monday, August 06, 2007
35W
These are for Mean Mr. Mustard, because if you're on vacation, bridge collapses don't seem as real unless one of your friends snaps a few pictures. They're pretty far away, because I don't have a fancy camera, so I can only zoom a few times normal, and they have the whole area sealed off, even the bridges nearby. There were cops all over the place, and construction guys acting like cops, and so much police tape it was hard to believe. I had to walk through some tape to take pictures, but there was "police" tape and "caution" tape, so I selected "caution" tape, even though it seemed obvious they'd run out of police tape and had to resort to whatever was left. I can't imagine you can get in trouble for walking past caution tape. That's just a warning, not notification that you're breaking a law.
So...from the parking ramp by Town Hall. The wide version:
And the tall version:
Seriously creepy, with the cars still sitting on the slope of the collapsed bridge, and the cop cars blocking access to the bridge beyond 3rd street. You can't see where it's collapsed if you're on the highway or Washington, you can just see it angling up past cop cars and barricades, and you know it disappears beyond that point, its just not obvious where the collapse begins.
Here's the closeup from cropping the picture:
So...from the parking ramp by Town Hall. The wide version:
And the tall version:
Seriously creepy, with the cars still sitting on the slope of the collapsed bridge, and the cop cars blocking access to the bridge beyond 3rd street. You can't see where it's collapsed if you're on the highway or Washington, you can just see it angling up past cop cars and barricades, and you know it disappears beyond that point, its just not obvious where the collapse begins.
Here's the closeup from cropping the picture:
Eryn's New Skill
Somewhat paraphrased, but close:
Dad: "Eryn, I left you a note this morning, did you finish the questions?"
Eryn: "No."
Dad: "What's 1+1+1?"
Eryn: (pause) "3."
Dad: "Then you answered the first question."
Ming: "That's pretty good, did she memorize it?"
Dad: "What's 2+2+2?"
Eryn: (pause) "6."
Ming: "I don't think she memorized it."
My daughter the creepy math whiz.
Dad: "Eryn, I left you a note this morning, did you finish the questions?"
Eryn: "No."
Dad: "What's 1+1+1?"
Eryn: (pause) "3."
Dad: "Then you answered the first question."
Ming: "That's pretty good, did she memorize it?"
Dad: "What's 2+2+2?"
Eryn: (pause) "6."
Ming: "I don't think she memorized it."
My daughter the creepy math whiz.
Bee Car
When Ming and I came back from a lunchtime burrito, we parked in an empty spot very close to the building. After parking, it seemed like perhaps no one had parked there because they were afraid of the bee car. Kitty Corner (Catty Corner if you're a hick from WV) to Ming's car was a blue car that was covered in bees. Bees on the hood. Bees on the doors. Bees on the roof. Bees crawling in and out of the grill. It seemed like there was actually a hive somewhere in the car. How does that happen and you don't notice? How does that happen and you don't get the crap stung out of you? There were literally 40-80 bees just sitting on the car. I was pondering how that works from a honey gathering perspective: "Hey...dudes. Don't fly. We'll be there in 35 minutes." "Does that mean we have to listen to the Barrack Obama ebook on the way to the pollen?" "Better than Management in 5 minutes!" "Barely." That's probably why they looked so mad...disagreement about ebooks.
Saturday, August 04, 2007
Two Places I Didn't Go On RAGBRAI
1.) Dan Gable's International Wrestling Institute and Museum in Waterloo, Iowa - because attractions like "Abe Lincoln, the Wrestler", "Civil War Era Wrestling", and "Jacob wrestling the angel" just don't appeal to me. Although his wiki page certainly is interesting, with details about his sister being murdered in the family home (in Waterloo), Tom Cruise idolizing him, John Irving writing about him, and his on-and-off candidacy for Republican office in Iowa. If you're in Iowa this weekend, don't miss, the "Live reenactment of the legendary wrestling match between Abe Lincoln and Jack Armstrong in New Salem, Illinois. The event will start at 9:30 a.m. both days and have live matches throughout the day until 4 p.m."
2.) Dubuque's Old Jail Museum - because this just doesn't seem like entertaining history to me...
"The Hanging of Patrick O'Connor Light and Sound Show - this entertaining story captivates audiences with the use of actual artifacts, historically accurate timelines and an appearance by the ghost of Patrick O'Connor. O'Connor was condemned and hanged for muder in 1834 just 20 yards from the jail." Remember, "Don't skip the dungeon in the basement."
Sound and light show? For a hanging? I hope that's more tasteful in person than it is in print. I wonder if you can get one of those historical stamp cards like you can in Minnesota - where you tour half a dozen Minnesota historical sites and they stamp your card so you can get a prize pack. Maybe you could tour the hanging of Patrick O'Connor light and sound show, the electrocution of Willie Francis tesla extravaganza, and the lethal injection of Angel Nieves Diaz laser phantasm.
2.) Dubuque's Old Jail Museum - because this just doesn't seem like entertaining history to me...
"The Hanging of Patrick O'Connor Light and Sound Show - this entertaining story captivates audiences with the use of actual artifacts, historically accurate timelines and an appearance by the ghost of Patrick O'Connor. O'Connor was condemned and hanged for muder in 1834 just 20 yards from the jail." Remember, "Don't skip the dungeon in the basement."
Sound and light show? For a hanging? I hope that's more tasteful in person than it is in print. I wonder if you can get one of those historical stamp cards like you can in Minnesota - where you tour half a dozen Minnesota historical sites and they stamp your card so you can get a prize pack. Maybe you could tour the hanging of Patrick O'Connor light and sound show, the electrocution of Willie Francis tesla extravaganza, and the lethal injection of Angel Nieves Diaz laser phantasm.
Thursday, August 02, 2007
Flak Radio Podcast Guest
Last night, not too long after the Minneapolis bridge came falling down, I was on my way down 35W to be the guest on a local podcast. I dropped off not too far from Lake, which was far from the tragedy, but it was surreal seeing cars just driving along normally knowing that downtown the whole interstate dropped into the river, some of it on top of cars containing fellow Minnesotans. I expected a traffic jam, or no traffic at all. Not business as usual. My deepest condolences go out to those who were on the bridge and those who lost loved ones.
The podcast I was on was Jim's and Taylor's Flak Radio, recorded in a cat-free room in south Minneapolis. I was their guest as official winner of the "name the nasal sex spray" contest they held a few weeks ago. Specifically, I won a bottle of Reyka Vodka, pictured below in a nice bow they applied, and positioned in front of the only gold picture frame in my house, peripherally, I got to be guest on my first podcast and partake of a very good vodka tonic with lime and a delicious lemon bar. You can listen to the whole podcast at Flak Magazine and appreciate how Jim and Taylor seem to make me not sound as nervous as I felt while I was sitting there with the headphones on trying to remember that the appropriate proximity to the microphone was to be frenching it - for sound purposes. They comforted me by insisting they wash the microphone between guests - but we all know someone who lies about washing their hands in the bathroom, so who's to say.
I hope I wasn't too quiet or flustered, although when Jim asks me about what the kids are doing, I'm at a loss - after all, the "kids" in my life are 4, not 24. When I picture what they're up to (24 year olds, not 4 year olds), I imagine them all dressing up for the night and wandering around Uptown trying to score a few free drinks. Being so much older, I take advantage of not dressing up (because I'm not trying to attract anyone), sitting down at a restaurant in Uptown so I don't have to be on my feet, and buying my own drinks because they pay white collar ex-developers enough to drink the memory of our cube-confined days away.
Very good vodka, filtered through lava rocks as it is - you can even see a slight gray tint to the liquid from the filtering. If you know me and you're over, remind me to get it down and share a glass. And a big thanks to Jim (and family) and Taylor for having me on the show.
The podcast I was on was Jim's and Taylor's Flak Radio, recorded in a cat-free room in south Minneapolis. I was their guest as official winner of the "name the nasal sex spray" contest they held a few weeks ago. Specifically, I won a bottle of Reyka Vodka, pictured below in a nice bow they applied, and positioned in front of the only gold picture frame in my house, peripherally, I got to be guest on my first podcast and partake of a very good vodka tonic with lime and a delicious lemon bar. You can listen to the whole podcast at Flak Magazine and appreciate how Jim and Taylor seem to make me not sound as nervous as I felt while I was sitting there with the headphones on trying to remember that the appropriate proximity to the microphone was to be frenching it - for sound purposes. They comforted me by insisting they wash the microphone between guests - but we all know someone who lies about washing their hands in the bathroom, so who's to say.
I hope I wasn't too quiet or flustered, although when Jim asks me about what the kids are doing, I'm at a loss - after all, the "kids" in my life are 4, not 24. When I picture what they're up to (24 year olds, not 4 year olds), I imagine them all dressing up for the night and wandering around Uptown trying to score a few free drinks. Being so much older, I take advantage of not dressing up (because I'm not trying to attract anyone), sitting down at a restaurant in Uptown so I don't have to be on my feet, and buying my own drinks because they pay white collar ex-developers enough to drink the memory of our cube-confined days away.
Very good vodka, filtered through lava rocks as it is - you can even see a slight gray tint to the liquid from the filtering. If you know me and you're over, remind me to get it down and share a glass. And a big thanks to Jim (and family) and Taylor for having me on the show.
Lil Chub
I have a Lil' Chub for Kyle. I got it on my way to RAGBRAI, and I haven't been able to get rid of it since then. When he comes over, it will be ready for him. Mmm.....meaty.
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