Juggling

For those of you who have never seen Scott juggle, even though he says he can, here is the proof...twice. I missed him riding the unicycle and juggling (seriously) - I think that would have been more exciting.

The Marine

Wow...shades of Reagan-era Rambo. I had no ideas that when my friend Dan'l was in the Marines he was learning all these cool fighting maneuvers and having sexy women just drop their panties for him. Well...maybe in the Phillipines, but I bet they weren't sexy in quite the same way.

Pooteewheet snorted at the last lines, "What happened?" "The Marines showed up, that's what." and then made a diddling joke. She's funny.

Speaking of Dan'l, I have to apologize to Cookie Queen for handing her off to Pooteewheet last night when she was talking to me about important things. I was NOT trying to get rid of her and the phone to do something else, I was just fairly certain that Pooteewheet is a much more verbally empathic individual than me and would want to know all the details. That means I'd have to have all the details, and I'm not always a good question asker. Usually I get information and miss the questions and fret and worry while I slowly learn all the details over the next x days/weeks. Pooteewheet, on the other hand, asks questions for a living, and I know how to interrogate her for details (and did). So in the Scooter household, very important information should generally go through her, to me. Saves everyone a lot of follow up phone calls and a very nervous Scooter. Hope it's all just a bit of fretting for no reason whatsoever, CQ.

Underpants

I had no idea when I bought Eryn the whole Captain Underpants series that I was doing my part to prepare for the ALA Banned Books Week (this week!). I have to admit - a little violent, a little gross - but it has been revealed that I let her play Zombies! the boardgame, so in light of that, rather mild. You can't talk your way through everything with your children - some things just aren't age appropriate - but you can talk your way through the mature themes of a Captain Underpants novel.

• ALA Banned Books Week, September 23-30, 2006.
• Yahoo lists the most searched for banned books.
• Captain Underpants, banned! (the short version)
• Captain Underpants, banned! (the Washington Post)
• Captain Underpants and the Perilous Plot of Professor Poopypants, banned! (Wikipedia)
• List of banned books (Wikipedia - maybe this is where I should be getting my new reading material rather than the company library and the Scifi top 100 list)
• ALA 100 Most Frequently Challenged (1990-2000)
• ALA Most Challenged, 2005

Who the Hell is Calliope

I was commenting on my sister's blog today about her television line up, and made note of the fact that Lost, with all it's pseudo-scientific/semi-supernatural happenings is no different than Days of Our Lives when Q and Calliope were on the show when you really think about it (I try not to, as I watch Lost).

For those of you who may not have spent the summer farming with your grandparents in Montana over twenty years ago, when the only things to do were listen to the Twins on the tractor radio while you plowed and picked rock, or hang with your grandma at the trailer home watching Days of Our Lives and eating vienna sausages (honestly, they turn my stomach now), there was a time when John de Lancie (better known as Q on Star Trek TNG) was a regular named Eugene Bradford with a thing for Calliope Jones.

What does that have to do with supernaturalism and science fiction...I offer some excerpts...

"After Roman moved in he figured out that the ghosts Eugene was seeing was actually a computer hologram that Stefano DiMera had rigged to make Eugene
crazy, Stefano was after Eugene's family Talisman."

...

"In 1984 Eugene and Bo learned about three prisms designed by Larry Welches father. Stefano wanted these prisms to heal an inoperable brain tumor he had. One prism was in the belly of an alligator, another in a necklace owned by Daphne DiMera which fell into Calliope Jones' hands, and the third in Russia."

And most importantly...

"In 1986, shortly after their marriage, Eugene disappeared along with a time machine he was working on. Eugene returned in 1989 and hid in Kimberly Donovan's basement. Eugene had traveled into the future and built an android version of Calliope, which he brought back to the present. Eugene and Calliope were finally reunited, but men from the future came seeking Eugene's Calliope android and inadvertently took the real Calliope captive by mistake. Eugene managed to free Calliope and the two settled back down. Eugene went downstairs with the Baka, and presumably disappeared in his time machine."

One post I read out there commented that the time machine must have been how de Lancie made it to Star Trek TNG.

Semi-Goth Chick

So, Mean Mr. Mustard immediately asked me after he read a previous post (see the last part), "So, who is the semi-goth chick?" I believe he expected me to point her out in the halls. But you have to understand goth, where I work, is less goth than it would be anywhere else. Corporate culture has diluted its gothiness until it is only a pale immitation of what it is to be goth. Not that you can't be hot with just a bit of goth (I think that's the only way to be goth and hot - but that's my personal opinion. Don't be offended if you're gothy - I really mean that you must be one of the hot ones because your gothicity is just this side of the goth line you would cross where I'd find your gothiness overriding your natural youness)...but I don't think any real goth would consider you goth. Hell - working where I work alone would disqualify you.

With that knowledge firmly in hand, Mr. Mustard and I were crossing the skyway for coffee, him walking in front with Ming where he can't see me, and semi-goth chick walks past. Mr. Mustard immediately turns around, almost bounces, wiggles his eyebrows just the smallest bit and gives me the universal body language equivalent for "Her?"

Indeed.

So, either my language is so poetic as to elicit the exact picture of the person in question amongst 6000+ coworkers, or my friends are exactly in tune with what goth would look like in our corporate domain. The later I think.

Speaking of coworkers, Tall Brad now calls me on his cell just so I can't laugh when my spy phone identifies him as B.J. He sucks.

Poll Results

Well, it seems the Chilifest 2006 poll results regarding the Pearly Gates of St. Peter don't really have a big enough sampling to come to any conclusions. Two people correctly answered that it was a Catholic thing, but twice as many confessed to being dumb or ignorant. After writing off Mean Mr. Mustard's probable vote for that item, the one he cast to assuage the guilt of calling a friend's wife the exact same thing, it's almost a dead heat. Oh well. The poll comes down - I hate it when my page waits for it to render. Too bad it didn't generate any data of lasting value to the St. Peter Chamber of Commerce.

Link This

There were two cool cycling links out on Boing Boing recently. One for steam-powered bicycles (isn't that what sweat is?), and another for furniture (at bikefurniture.com) made out of old cycling parts. The later is excellent - makes me feel happy about all those old rims lying around the garage.

On an unrelated topic, Luke Francl has a great post up comparing O/R mapping to Vietnam. Presumably the metaphor could now be updated to Iraq. Luke gives pointers to Ted Neward's blog post, Jim Murphy's blog post, and Jeff Atwood's Coding Horror. Good stuff for late-night geeking.

Ty Barnett

So, after a 3:30 a.m. wake up call to smoke test one of my applications/servers, with another 5:00 a.m. (or so) wake up call on schedule to smoke test a new cluster installation, I still managed to go to see Ty Barnett at the Acme comedy club with Pooteewheet on Friday. I have to say that the prospect of beer, on top of allergies and a serious lack of sleep, threatened to fully knock me out, but I managed to drink a Sierra Nevada and Anchor and still stay awake. Normally, I'd drink two Sieraa Nevadas, but I forgot how horrible the taps are at Acme - nasty. Stick to bottles.

So...Ty Barnett? He was the runner up in this year's Last Comic Standing. He was my personal favorite because his material always seemed to be somewhat new, and last night wasn't a disappointment. There was some material from Last Comic Standing, but just a ton of new stuff, and in person he doesn't stick to the FCC-friendly language he uses on television. Pooteewheet was very amused at his use of the phrase "coinpurse", as the prostitutes (sort of ex-s, but with a high level of relapse) she used to counsel always used that phrase. But his material wasn't just about sex - he was all over the map and talked politics, kids, race, money, the works. Very funny and he powered through an increasingly obvious loss of voice as the set went on. After the show, he even hit the entry way for pictures with fans (Pooteewheet and I are not that sort of fan of anyone except each other) - nice guy.

There were actually four comedians. The host, who had a whole riff on Ken Barlow getting a stiffy every time a snow storm came into town (so they'd only shoot him above the waist); a guest comedian named Mr. Mookie, who was funny, but a bit strange; and a female comedian who had sort of this funnier Rosanne Barr take on things (i.e. I don't like mothers who respond to their kids grunting for cookies by saying, "Use your words, now honey." Just once, I wish the kid would respond, "All right, I want a fucking cookie.") Mr. Mookie came out to sit next to Pooteewheet and me after his set so he could watch Ty Barnett and was obviously enjoying himself on every joke except the religion-related ones (everyone's got their not-funny zones - Pooteewheet and I once walked out on a comedian at Acme. He heckled her on the way out, and me as I paid the bill so I could get out. He actually looked like he felt bad that his set was upsetting someone, but once you're committed up there, you better just go with it I suppose). Strangely, he kept watching Pooteewheet and I to see if we were laughing at certain jokes. Not sure what that was about. Maybe he was just surprised at what white suburbanites would find funny from a black commedian.

Speaking of Pooteewheet and white guy, suburban behavior, I almost forget to tell her about my pathetic-ness, so I should take some time to point it out (transparency in your relationship is very important so you know when it's ok to laugh at each other). On Friday I found myself straightening up (i.e. basically sucking in my stomach w/o the actual sucking in) twice in response to being examined by strange women. Once at work by the semi-goth chick with the high shoes and once at Jake's by a Korean woman with sunbleached (or a facsimile) hair. The automatic reaction to straighten up frightens me - it could at least wait until after my fourtieth birthday to kick in, particuarly as they were probably just noticing an open fly, unhooked button, or thing hanging from my nose (or that after so little sleep, I looked like a stoner). After all, it's not like I'm going to go buy a muscle car or convertible, start wearing gold chains and rings, and talk loudly on my cell phone about all the important things I'm doing - I'm just not that guy. My mid-life crisis will probably just involve a shift from a development path to a management path, too many bottles of scotch and a hybrid bike that indicates I've given up on the idea of offroading as a young man's hobby. Straightening up, for the purposes of those goals, is just wasted energy.

$32,000 Breasts

This is why I started fondling Pooteewheet's breasts so long ago, you have to make sure you get appropriate depreciation on your investment (in finance parlance, I consider them capital, not expense).

HELSINKI (Reuters) - A fee of 25,500 euros ($32,000) is way too much for a woman to charge a man for fondling her bosom, a Finnish district court ruled. (Yahoo)

And as for this story (also Yahoo) about a prostitute pretending to be an undercover cop, I don't consider it so strange. There was a whole movie made about a serial killer who thought it was easier just to kill her johns rather than service them. That must mean there are quite a few situations between those two anchors on the prostitution chain where one can creatively enhance the process, increase the income, and decrease the time on one's back/knees.

Smaller

Seems there are coworkers who have smaller cubes than mine. It's good to know we all share a love of coffee, regardless of the location of the subsidiary.

A word of warning that that's not a very exciting video - I was just amused to see that plugging my company's name into YouTube garnered a result or two.

Speaking of small cubes, one of my coworkers sent an email the other day noting that the treat list treats had been left on the filing cabinets by my cube. Addresses for cubes generally follow the designation Floor-CubeGridLocation. However, my area shares an extra designation for our cubes, so it's actually Floor-MailStop-CubeGridLocation. TreatGuy mocked our setup by noting that the treats could be found near something that had an address vaguely like E4-33B-62995-88F-PQ#S3-222222, stressing the difference between my little 6x6 foot abode, and the domains of other developers. Actually, that new address made my cube seem very big. After all, how small could it be with that many characters? You have to at least be able to fit the address on a sign on the outer wall.

Now, this brings up the issue of why do I have a mailstop address in my cube address while others do not? Well, that's because unlike other areas, when I was moved to a smaller cube, there was no central mailbox area. So instead, mail was dropped into a big, plastic bucket and we had to sort through it to find our mail amongst all the old eWeeks that people would leave sitting in there for months. Now there are mailboxes, and the process is different. We sort through the big bucket, and put the mail in the boxes, and then take them out again when we feel they've been appropriately delivered to us by ourselves (at least you can get the eWeeks out of the way). So, you might ask, where's the box? It has its own cube. Yes...I am exactly as important, space wise, as a plastic U.S. Postal box full of junk mail. At least I'm better off than the printers, they have to share a cube.

Quiet

People told me I was being unnaturally quiet yesterday, and maybe a bit today. I wasn't convinced, until Eryn asked me, "Dad, why are you being so quiet?" I must be one noisy bastard most of the time. Maybe I got some noise out of my system while I was at Old Chicago on Tuesday with some co-workers. I hit the bar for a wide variety of beer with Skippy, Tall Brad, Pete Ryan, Scott H and Erik the Hairy Swede. It wasn't a happy hour or anything - just an excuse to get together with developers (or at least people who used to develop) all over work and talk shop, beer, etc. I got a little wild at the end talking line of sight - the lack of structure in training developers to achieve, and making sure there's space for them to achieve, and be rewarded for achievement, is a button issue for me. The whole "throw 'em all into the cubicular wild and see who floats into the biggest cube" is of questionable validity as far as I'm concerned and costs a company a lot of skills. It was probably that last Mojo that really got me going.

Hope you found a replacement car, Pete.

Speaking of talking shop, Boing Boing notes that O'Reilly has all their code samples on line in a searchable database. That is sweet.

Negativity

Unblague notes that the Webb v. Allen race in Virginia has gone negative. Well, we're turning some new corners of our own here in the Wetterling v. Bachmann race.

With regard to 2000 and 2002, the NRCC statement strongly implies that Wetterling didn't vote at all, which is misleading. But with reference to 2004, Wetterling voted in both the primary and the general elections. NRCC spokesman Jonathan Collegio says Wetterling didn't vote in the 2004 "presidential preference ballot."

There was no presidential primary in Minnesota. But, as DFLers entered their precinct caucuses in March, they were offered a chance to express a preference for a presidential candidate, although it had no effect on delegates to the nominating convention.

Chilifest 2006

You blog a couple of things, and people actually complain when you don't blog about something right away. I am not a public service and you can't tell me what to do unless you're my wife, and the only two people I've proposed to are Pooteewheet and Tall Brad. It was Tall Brad's Chilifest, so I guess he might have the right...oh well.

Note the new, but temporary, poll on the right hand side of the blog. This is a direct result of the Chilifest. Klund's wife, who lives in St. Peter, noted to Mean Mr. Mustard during the later part of the evening that "some people" don't know why there are Pearly Gates in St. Peter, Minnesota. Mean Mr. Mustard noted that those people were dumb. Klund, not fully aware of the conversation added that Ms. Klund hadn't known why there were pearly gates. So, Mr. Mustard had just called her dumb. He may have called her ignorant. He was still backpedaling hours later, and the last thing I heard that evening was him still apologizing on the sidewalk one more time as everyone was leaving.

Otherwise, there's not much I can add that hasn't happened at a chilifest before. There was peeing in the backyard (maybe that hasn't happened before...but it's really suprising it hasn't - it was really rather cherubic, like an Italian fountain), lots of chili (no third place for Pooteewheet this year, her bucket of tequila-flavored meat only garnered a first place vote from one drunken chilifester), some impressive thunderstorms and search lights that skirted the fest on the three sides, and the annual win by someone from another state (North Dakota - they all just vote for each other. It doesn't help Brad uses Diebold to record and tally the votes).

I'm posting just a smattering of pictures. If anyone needs copies of any of them, or a picture of anyone in particular, I can shake an original up from the drive. Flat Monica gave me her copies and I have my own, and I'll be giving Brad copies of what I have so he can post them on whatever super-sweet mondo site he has courtesy of Mac.

Here's Christy and "Squirrel". This is not the closest Squirrel got to someone this fine Chilifest 2006 afternoon. She and her husband were a little late to the party, which got many nudges and winks, particularly as they showed up an hour and half after another couple who had been at the same pre-party events. Christy showed up so late she missed getting her chili voted on...who knows where she was. But if she was three times as late, it must have been three times as racy. Note that there are no pictures and no mention of The Boss, who was going to come, but couldn't. In the past, Chilifest has conflicted with his Sexy Duluth Weekend with his wife. This year it moved and he could go, but cancelled for a date night with her at the last moment - after all these years, he's like Pavlov's Dog, or like the wife in Tristram Shandy, the mere idea of Chilifest puts him in a sexy mood. Obviously, that's the truth for a wide swath of attendees - you just have to fit it in.


Christy and Ty. Monica loves the posed photo. Usually you can tell if a photo is mine because if it's posed, the person doing the posing is acting like an idiot (and is usually me). There is simply no way to tell that Christy is at a chilifest, just posed in a previous picture with somone who may have been seeing some skyrockets in flight, or is thinking crabby thoughts at me for taking candid photos...it just doesn't come across. Chilifest is simply not about wholesome family fun...it's about children peeing in your walking space, calling your friend's wife ignorant, and burnt children...really, just keep following the photo trail.



Daryl and wife. I think I posted a picture two years ago where he looked stoned and drunk all at once. I figure I owe him a nice one.


Squirrel, Pooteewheet, Eryn and Ms. Klund all hanging out around the firepit.


Ming and Logan sharing some chili.


Ming tries to get Logan to eat a "taffy" skeleton.


Mean Mr. Mustard two fisting it. One has beer, the other was used by a cherubic, peeing child...guess which is which Mr. M!


Eryn flashing gang signs. That's a "C" for chill-ay.


Scooter trying to feed Eryn a "taffy" skelton. Scooter's pop trying to pretend like he doesn't want any chili although the real issue is he's not allowed to have any. He was nice enough to take Eryn home for bed so Pooteewheet and I could hang out until the party closed sometime after 11:00. Both he and Mr. Mustard are sporting Bike Classic shirts - appropriately, my father's is older, though I've only ever referred to Mr. Mustard with an elderly honorific. I took off my Bike Classic shirt right before I came to chilifest...a wise move. I think being Mr. Mustard's twinkie for the evening might have garnered a few comments.


Tall Brad distributing the prizes. You can see he likes to wear Structure.


Monica titled this "guy eating chili". It sums up Chilifest nicely.


Klund wondering who Carl Zeiss is.


Eryn recovering from a great big blister she got when reaching for a peanut butter cookie and brushing Pooteewheet's chili crockpot with the broken leg. The thing was working on having a meltdown - I mean Eryn...and the crockpot. A few Cars (tm) bandaids and some aloe vera stopped the pain, but after the blister, Eryn was pretty much done for the evening.

Bionic Manager

I was in the company bathroom today (there's more than one...but pick one, it's close enough) and washing up my hands when a guy walks in and saddles up to the urinal. Moments later, his Blackberry starts buzzing and my first thought is, "Bet his wife appreciates that."

I wonder if anyone's Blackberry has ever startled them while they were taking a whiz, causing them to miss? That would be embarrassing.

Sexy Vampire Squid

I followed PZ Meyer's link to watch a cool view about a vampire squid. But it was a little unnerving that there was a big advertisement for sexual compatability and finding my soul mate right next to it. Given his obsession with cephalopods and that he was the referrer, it was probably targeted advertising.

The Menstruation Bureau or Alberto Gonzales and Your Vagina

PZ Meyers has a very funny YouTube post up about "Your Vagina: Gateway to Information". I knew Gonzales was worried about your hoo hoo, I just didn't realize he micromanaged quite so carefully.

Congratulations to Mean Mr. Mustard. He knows what for and whether they're really due. Or maybe he doesn't...not yet. But by Monday.

I watched a video on Red Gate's ANTS Profiler (tm) today. Memory profiling in itself isn't naturally funny, but when they got to the part in the video about their "powerful griding technology", I snorted a serious geek/programmer snort. It's a grid. They've f-ing been around since the early days of VB (at least). Albeit, the grids in .NET 1.1 were seriously weak, but if that's your point of comparison,you're not aiming very high. And it's still an f-ing grid.

I learned the phrase "zone the disk" today. Sounds like "tripping the rift/wave" or maybe "riding the lightning". It certainly sounds like it could have multiple meanings:

• Scooter, what were you doing today when you disappeared for an hour?


• Me? Oh, I was zoning the disk.


• You mean you have a SAN upgrade in your pants?


• What? No...I'm just happy to see you.

Finally, in the geek trifecta, I learned today that servers, just like people, need Sharpie (tm) marker X's on them so someone doesn't remove the wrong kidney, operate on the wrong knee, or pull the plug on the wrong person. Poor bastard.

Hot Asian Rubs Big Blue Porpoise!

Well, to be specific, she was (of) Korean (ancestry), but She Says might not have read further if I'd have been that specific, and my sister would have just gotten a big(ger) head. And, I guess it was more like a dolphin, but then my porpoise audience might not have been interested. I am in NO way comparing Koreans to porpoises, or Asians to dolphins. I'd like to make that absolutely clear. Though I do think all of them that were at the Skyland kids' park might have benefitted from a big bottle of slippery baby oil. Not saying I was picturing it. Just saying...

What mostly confused me was that she was there with two little curly haired, blonde, pasty children who looked very much like the guy that was with her, who seemed to be her boyfriend or husband. I'm hoping that they were the result of a previous mating experience on his part, as there is absolutely no point in dating/mating with an extremely attractive, dolphin-rubbing, should be oiled up, woman of Korean ancestry unless some of that hotness sticks to the children. I thank genetics almost every day that Eryn picked up a little bit of my Native American ancestors' skin tone, because Pooteewheet brought absolutely no pigment to the equation.

I bet "Hot Asian" plus "oiled" drives my traffic up almost as much as cuckold fetishicist. Won't they all be disappointed at the lack of pictures.

Steve's sand pile is still in the street after three days. The Boss (a co-worker) wondered at lunch today how people manage a pile of dirt in the street in the dark if they have any speed at all. That's a hell of a question and perhaps explains some of the flatness the kitty litter pile has undergone, because they certainly don't seem to be taking the dirt toward the landscaping in the back yard.

Crooks And Liars has a Daily Show clip up where they discuss the use of the question mark on news shows. Funny stuff.

And Eryn made me a cookie yesterday. It was actually for Pooteewheet and me, and we didn't have to share with her, because she made herself one all covered with frosting that was gone before I even picked her up from daycare. I was in charge of the arm and leg - I felt like the bad Duke in Shrek.

Ninjas!

I have a few minutes before I leave the house to go have a cup of coffee and do some reading and writing at the local coffee shop on my half day off. Just me. No wife in my space. No daughter in my space. No to-do list. Sometimes, particularly when I have a half day off, or come in late after breakfast, I feel as though I'm somehow being lazy, as I could be doing something productive. But then I'm at work, like I was the first half of today, and I hear over the wall of a cubical I'm walking past, "What IS that? Is that some sort of assassin ninja?" and I feel all super productive again.

Big Ass Pile of Kitty Litter

Did I ever mention I love Log Parser 2.2? Yeah yeah, I know, for people too lazy to learn PERL. But the fact that it capitalizes on SQL experience I already have and it's free, makes me feel all warm in the pit of my stomach, like I just had a good glass of scotch.

I have become possessive of the books I read to Eryn. I no longer allow Pooteewheet to read the "next chapter" of the book I was reading before she got there. I carefully book mark it and set it in my own pile in Eryn's room so I can resume the next evening. We read Judy Moody this way, although only I belong to the T.P. Club.

I've come to understand Eryn very well. The other day I found an orange icey in the bottom of the new chest freezer and thought it had just fallen out of the holder for the freezer Eryn can reach with her step stool (the freezer is counterweighted so she can't get stuck - don't freak out). So I put it back. Two days later, it was on the bottom of the freezer again. So when I came upstairs, I asked Eryn, "Did you throw the orange icey on the bottom of the freezer because it has a bend in it?" Eryn, "Mmm hmmm."

So, finally, on to the Big Ass Pile of Kitty Litter. My neighbor Steve, who used to be married to my coworker Christy, who has family who reads my blog...well, he has a big pile of kitty litter in front of his house. But it's not just in his yard in front of his house, but rather firmly in the street, taking up one full side of the road. Cars slow way down and drive around it, and I'm scared to think what will happen when the bus comes by in the morning. I'll probably be out there with several boards, a shovel, and six pounds of catnip. I tried to grab a video of a car worrying about running over it for YouTube, but failed. But here's a good picture - you can see where children have been playing in the road and kids on bikes have been jumping through it. Here comes a kid now! And is that a blue Lego on the right? Steve has created an attractive nuisance that serves to make kids play in the road...good one, Steve.

Star Trek

This is the most inspired mashup of old Star Trek footage and Nine Inch Nails I've seen since...well, ever...though I think it would be appropriate for NIN to do something riffing on Amok Time (nsfw w/o headphones - via Boing Boing).

Kum Gang San

I have to say, Kum Gang San sounds absolutely repulsive. I believe this is an instance of Korean words not syncing with English vernacular. I'm sure the reverse is true in circumstances. For those of you who would accuse me of picking on foreign cuisine without having experienced it, I have experienced foreign cuisine (not this particular dish) at this very restaurant. My food was delicious. However, Pooteewheet won't let me go back as the cockroach upset her.

Christian Rapping Pirates

I know some of my friends don't read P.Z. Myers, so here's a link to the Rapping Christian Pirates at Ooblog, just for you. I don't like it that the one pirate looks like he's stroking something.

Ooblog comments on P.Z.'s post that: "If y'all enjoyed that, you may want to search Youtube for "Captain Hook Christian pirate". They also have a segment where kids have to walk the plank for their sins."

Here...I did the work for you. Is he actually threatening children with a knife?

Bike Classic 2006

First off, this is the weirdest thing we saw today at the 2006 St. Paul Bike Classic. I'm sure Planet Dan will appreciate it - he has a thing for Elaine-esque dancing.


With that out of the way, we can move on to other things. It was a bad day for bike riding, it misted almost the full three hours we were on the road, and the temperature kept dropping from when we got up (54 degrees), to what felt colder than 54 degrees four hours later. But it could have been worse, it could have rained. And it didn't, not quite... It was a little more work this year (for me) as I haven't been biking in a month, and before that ride, I hadn't been biking in a month, but I finished all 30 miles without a post-ride nap (and even moved furniture and a canoe), so it also wasn't so bad. Group-wise, it was spectacular. Sandy had to bail on us for the Little Falls Craft Show this year (we're looking forward to her new shirt/jacket - last time it had moveable felt animals on it), but 12 people showed up to ride, and that's if you don't count Mean Mr. Mustard's family, or my family (plus in-laws, and family of in-laws), who rode separate. Nine of us went out for the annual breakfast at the St. Clair Broiler afterward where we debated how long we've been riding. Erik thought it was four years, until I pointed out that our first ride had been before his girlfriend was in charge of the ride, so that extended it to five years for the group. It seems to me that I rode one alone and one with my friend Mike before that, so I've been going for 7 of the 11 years. That's a lot of riding. I still remember how tired I was after the first one as I'd just started biking again after ten years of not really touching a bike.

On to the pictures. Here we are getting ready in the morning in front of Mean Mr. Mustard's house. I was the problem individual this year as I didn't hear my alarm go off and slept in. Christy and Scott wouldn't ring the doorbell because they were afraid they'd wake up Eryn. So instead, they wandered around the neighborhood, looking in people's windows - seriously. Well, her ex-husband's windows - that sounds way creepier than it really is. I told them they should have rung the doorbell and been standing there with a camera so they could catch me at the door just out of bed in a pair of boxers and no shirt. Sexy. I don't know what Ming and Gail are looking at on the ground, or if Brady is looking at Gail's backside...I just take the pictures.


Mean Mr. Mustard with a donut, or apple, or something. Why does his helmet sit so high on his head? It's unnatural. And why does he wear a fanny pack? And why if you accuse him of wearing a fanny pack does he get all defensive and claim it's just a shirt pocket and then tell you to "shut up"? What's he hiding in his faux fanny pack he doesn't want us to know about?


The Boss with helmet hair. That's Phil over his right shoulder (your left). Erik and I were discussing the Scouting association that works with cops (Explorer Scouts) and that some of them were volunteers that day. I pointed out that I knew some of those Scouts when I was a Scout, and that the individuals who were just in the Explorer Scout cop division and not regular Scouting never became cops, while those that did both Explorers and regular Scouting became cops. I ventured that perhaps those other ones became serial killers. Phil noted that he had been in the Explorer Scouts (cop division) but not regular Scouting. He had indeed not become a cop, and he assured us he was also not a serial killer. Then again, that's what a serial killer is likely to say.


Ming giving a friendly wave. He didn't stick around for breakfast as he had a Twins game. He's always bailing on breakfast. I don't think he feels comfortable being so close to the site of his first date with his wife without her along - especially after I talked about Heath Ledger's performance in Brokeback Mountain at him for a while and mentioned that if his wife and my wife liked the burbs, and we both liked the city, maybe we should find a condo and live a bachelor's life and just visit the women on the weekend. That's Mean Mr. Mustard to his left (your right), thinking about ditching us so he can get a head start with Gail.


Christy and Julie scheming or commiserating or something. Probably discussing Lisa who bailed on the 30 miler and breakfast for the 15 miler and a warm car. Lisa was riding a killer bike, so I'm not sure why she bailed - the bike should have been doing 90% of the work. Maybe they're just cold and conserving body warmth.


Mean Mr. Mustard's friend Tom, who came all the way from California to ride the ride (or maybe that was coincidence). I probably insulted him when I asked if he was Mean Mr. Mustard's father or Mean Mr. Mustard's wife's father. Glad he's not my boss or something. More importantly, I forgot to ask him about Mean Mr. Mustard dating Miss San Diego Harbor 1962, as he might know the real details and not just the bravado we hear every day at work. That's Gail to the right (your right). She was new this year too - a coworker. She's pondering how to get Mean Mr. Mustard to ditch us as she was all about moving. That rest stop business made her twitchy. She wanted to get to breakfast and a warm cup of something that wasn't coffee.


Erik looking all pleased about whatever he's eating, though he did claim he was a bit loggy five minutes later when he was back on his bike. Notice he doesn't have a cup of coffee. Notice that no one in any of the last several pictures has a cup of coffee. The Como stop had coffee. But the first stop (Indian Mound Park) did not. I, for one, needed a cup, given that it was 54 and misting. If you're from the Bike Classic Committee, take note, that's my only big complaint - no coffee at the Indian Mound Park rest stop. I heard me complain several times over the next several hours about just that fact.


Brady and Alan on their first year of the ride. I suspect Ming made them go with threats about project estimates and how they can be padded a bit for good behavior, or made intolerable for people he doesn't trust to be go-to guys. Julie, in the lower right (your right) is watching the dancers in the video at the beginning of the post. They had several actual dances - most of them curiously similar. They didn't have helmets, so we were pretty sure that ruled them out as Classic riders. Maybe homeless people who lived in the park and can't afford dance classes?


Christy and Julie - all good rides involve a lot of hugging. Erik suggested we ride a bike in the future that would support all of us.


This isn't that bike. He was suggesting a more circular sort of thing.


Ah....here it is, the Conference Bike. Very weird that the picture I found was actually a picture of a bunch of Italians riding one on Nicollet Avenue in Minneapolis. Anyway, I think both pictures imply what Mean Mr. Mustard was suggesting, that it might be a little more intimate than a hug. That thing in the center looks very useful as a place to put some plastic and ice to store a few Summits.


This almost looks like we have a mash-up to ride, but it's really just several of the bikes strapped together with many locks while we go in for breakfast at the St. Clair Broiler. The theory is to make it so confusing that a thief wouldn't know what to cut in order to make off with a bike.


Mean Mr. Mustard, Tom, Gail, Phil, Christy and Julie having breakfast. Tom and Gail had the vegetarian omelet. Phil had the Club breakfast with a side of bacon. Christy had the muffin/biscuit with gravy thing. And Julie had french toast, ala cart. Mean Mr. Mustard also had an omelet - looked like it had meat. Just in case you need the gritty details.


Julie, Scott and Erik. Check out Erik's new Tech Lead do. Damn that's short and professional. He's such a corporate suck-up now. Also note that we have coffee. Lots of coffee. All the coffee they didn't give me at the Indian Mound Park rest stop.


Me. Do I look like I haven't had a bath and just rode 30 miles in the mist so that I'm sitting around in a damp pull over? Naw...I'm very happy. Biking with friends is just good times.

Erin Murphy

One of my old bosses from my nursing days is running for Minnesota SD64. I was never a nurse myself - I just have nurses in my family, and for a while I did their database work, Word Perfect work, printer wrangling, newsletter writing, general cleaning, food preparation and bulk mailing (among other things). It was only last weekend that I moved the old Third District Nurses (Erin is Executive Director of the Minnesota Nurses Association, their parent association) board room table from my kitchen to the garage.

I was helping Dan'l and Cookie Queen with their computer yesterday when Erin's canvassing team stopped by. Cookie Queen said, "Hey, didn't you used to work with her?" And indeed I had. You can find her political stance on health care, women, seniors, and the environment (among other things) here. It was amusing to see her signs everywhere on the way to the Bike Classic ride today (which rolled through SD64).

Anal Wink?

Should I be worried that Pooteewheet is wiki-ing entries on a page that say to see also Reflex Anal Dilatation and Anal Wink?

Video Potpourri

Pooteewheet showed me this one. I feel bad for this kid - he looks generally scared to death that he's going to fall off the ride. However, his mother makes it eerily funny because she is a freaking psycho. Maybe if I just act giddy about his possible death and terror, he'll calm down?

Which brings up the point that Ming once sent me this one with a kid and a computer, which turns up on the same search and is the same sort of humor. Another kid I feel bad for - his parents are f-ing evil.

So...for something else amusing/frightening, Klund sent me this trail for the upcoming film Jesus Camp. WTF (not to be confused with WTFWJD).

And...if you've still NOT seen the Keith Olbermann video, go watch it (courtesy of She Says). It may be over a week old by now, but Bush's stupid speeches (and et al.) about how those who oppose the war are appeasers aren't going away any time soon.

Oh heck, go watch Olbermann riff on Katherine Harris while you're at it.

Still not enough? The Colbert Report is Crumbelievable.

DSL II and LissyJo

Ming told me today he knew I had DSL because I was uploading videos to YouTube. I had to break it to him that no, I had not yet uploaded a video to YouTube while in possession of DSL and that, in fact, all videos on YouTube that belong to me had been uploaded using 50K dial up, even those videos several minutes long that would seem to have involved several hours of uploading...and did.

So, I shall now upload videos in a fraction of the time I previously forced upon my machine. My DSL YouTube virginity shall be spent on uploading videos to annoy my sister.

Video #1, my nephew, Arty, playing with the toy my sister probably likes least.


Video #2, LissyJo dancing with Eryn at the Scooter/LissyJo family Christmas party at my brother's house.

DSL

DSL has been running at my house on the wireless network for a few minutes. My home phone is now free for the first time in what seems like forever. So of course, we got our first post-DSL installation call from a telemarketer. Bastards.

Squirrel

I saw this story on Yahoo, "Squirrel in spokes floors cycling opera singer"...shocking! It is a well-traveled joke in my work/friend circle about how Erik ran over a squirrel during the TCBC Bike Classic, the squirrel flying into the air, landing on him, and then ricocheting off to parts unknown. Unlike this story, we can't be certain of the ending for Erik's squirrel, "The squirrel died in the accident." Erik, we know, unlike the opera singer, was fine. Possibly the squirrel was fine. Not all squirrel-biker accidents end in tragedy.

Cuckold Fetishist or, I Will Never Call My Wife "Hot" Again

I was reading Savage Love today and Dan Savage used the phrase "cuckold fetishist". That was a new one on me, so I did some research, just to make my self more knowledgable. Wikipedia provides the best definition via the general cuckold entry.

The term has acquired additional meanings among sexual fetishists, referring to couples where a dominant female takes on additional partners, while a submissive male is either monogamous to her, denied sex altogether, or only allowed to perform a restricted range of sex acts with her and in extreme cuckoldry also her lover.

Cuckolding among female-dominant couples differs from the original definition of cuckolding in that many of these men are voluntarily "cuckolded" by their wives, as part of the husband's sexual fantasy of gaining sexual pleasure from being humiliated by his wife, and in extreme cuckoldry also by her lover; indeed, the husband may even be the instigator of this practice, raising questions about who is truly the dominant partner. This is a common theme in letters to erotica magazines.

In the fantasy realm, the wife of a cuckold is sometimes referred to as a hotwife. In a broader context, the contrast between a cuckold and bull is sometimes used to summarize an individual's personality or behaviour; the male third party, or bull
representing an aggressive alpha male and the cuckold suggesting weakness, fear and vulnerability. There some who consider the use of the term "bull" to be offensive, and this term is not commonly used in the BDSM community.

In cuckoldry the cuck can submit to humiliation, called serving with common themes including: feminization and oral sex with the hotwife or bull following their intercourse, called a creampie or cleaning up.

If you need topically related material, you can read further about candualism (nsfw) and being a humiliatrix (sorry, I couldn't figure out the plural - humiliatrices?) at Wikipedia as well.

And, if you've linked over to find a how-to rather than a what-is-it, there's " The Cuckold's and Cuckolder's Guide", which I myself am just not interested enough to read. There are limits to my research.

Steve Irwin is Dead!

Steve Irwin was killed by a stingray at 44. That's very sad. One of Eryn's favorite videos is The Wiggles: Wiggly Safari with Steve Irwin. The very first song is "Steve Irwin, Crocodile Hunter..."
The coverage seems to focus quite heavily on how horrible it is to get a saw blade in your heart, and in places seems a bit inappropriate. I think the Reuters story was using the word as a section header, but it seems wrong to state:

"They have these deep serrations which tear and render the flesh as it comes out," he said.

"CRIKEY"

And the AFP story:

His outspoken persona became so popular that he won a cameo role in a Hollywood movie, "Dr Dolittle 2," starring US comic actor Eddie Murphy.

without listing credits for his own movie, Crocodile Hunter, Collision Course, or for The Wiggles Safari, which probably outsold Dr. Doolittle II in the DVD market. When you consider his show was watched by 200 million people, he way outclasses Dr. Doolittle.

Our family's condolences to Bindi, Robert and Terri. Your father/husband made many in my extended family very happy over the years.

Whatever...

If you haven't put down your bid for TomKitten's baby's bronze casted dump, the bid is currently only at $41. That's a steal. And you can probably write it off.

If a rainbow (alt - wiki) appears where there are no Christians to see it, does it still imply a covenant? And did you know if you put Muslim and Rainbow into a Google search, you get back primarily hits about gay Muslims?

Do tall people have a natural advantage in selecting mates in a cube-heavy environment because they can see each other over the walls? (a topic of discussion on the way to lunch with TallBrad yesterday - who made me laugh when he noted that my seeing "B.J." whenever he calls my spy phone "sucks"). Not only can they see each other over taller walls, but they stick up a little more in their cubes, so you can see them in cases where you might not be able to see someone else. Based on some personal observation, at 6'2", I can't see someone under about 5'10" in their cube without having to move into "looking like you want to start a discussion" space. If the cube-dweller were several inches taller, I could see them without any awkwardness. Conversely, if I were taller, same deal. If we're both tall, we could rule each other out from opposite sides of the building. A company truly dedicated to maximizing employee space would reduce cube walls to just a foot or two high so that the upward height trend of employees artifically created as a product of an unnatural environment would be diluted. It would also save money by negating any "ergonomic studies" necessary to procure larger office chairs. I think I need to get an average height at my company, convince them to lop a foot off the walls, and then take an average height again a generation later. I wonder how that translates for a 1% cost-savings bonus.

And if you don't read The Straight Dope online, you should. Reading about voluntary urine retention can save you the painful reality of a ruptured bladder, should you be in a car accident. Yesterday, Pooteewheet upped the ante on Eryn and bought her pull ups (they're not diapers, Dad!) that give her a freezing crotch if she pees in them. So, while Eryn was sitting next to me by the computer, I read her this part, "I mentioned voiding dysfunction, which sometimes develops in children who refuse to go to the bathroom for extended periods, leading to incontinence...". She immediately grabbed her bits and looked very worried.

Laugh...just now, from upstairs in her bedroom, "Brrrrrrrr!"

Which is probably why she enjoys this new book Pooteewheet bought her so much. I personally think it's just a bit passive aggressive to give Eryn a copy of The Day I Swapped My Dad for Two Goldfish, but Eryn really likes it, particularly the fact that it comes with a CD of Neil Gaiman reading the story so she can follow along. LissyJo should note that, per the comments on Amazon, at least one person feels it denigrates adoption.

And if you need more of an Eryn fix, help yourself to a video or two. This one is very strange. Eryn is singing, "Freakin Baby, you turned down my radio." We're not quite sure why. She also looks a bit like Steve Erwin (the Croc Hunter) in this video. This was from the same day that she named every necklace in the box of necklaces her great grandmother (maternal) gave her - things like Erbert and Peerflat and Sertert and Rosert (at least that one had flowers on it). I'm not going to post that, but if Grandpa or Grandma want it, Nomi would probably appreciate the video.

If her hanging-around video wasn't working for you before, it finally processed over at YouTube.