Yesterday, in my new cube without the pole, I found myself staring at the clouds, lost in contemplation of one that looked like a scotty dog, and another that looked like the world's largest crayfish.
On a more productive note, Scott Hanselman has blogged his 2007 list of developer tools and power tools. I've used quite a few of them - but there's always something new and unexpected.
I can't go because I'll be driving my grandmother to Tucson, but Minnedemo 3 is October 11 at O'Gara's (via Luke Francl). Two free beers for the first 200 attendees. So far they're up to about 75.
Grady Booch is talking about "The Promise, The Limits, and the Beauty of Software" on September 26th, 12:45-2:30, at the U of MN. If you're at that one - say "howdy". A big thanks to Ming for telling me about Grady's talk. Grady blogs here, and at Booch.com (the blog is mirrored).
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Hi 5
Logan loaned Eryn some videos to watch, in return for her loan of Cars. He really likes a singing group called Hi 5, and Eryn hasn't watched one yet, but the back of Hi 5 Series 3 is a little disconcerting:
"Doctor Kathleen is in shop. She has three toys who need medical help, and she is there to help them. Jup Jup isn't feeling well either. For each of them, Kathleen prescribes a drink of water, a cuddle, and a rest. Jup Jup wants his prescription too, and hides himself in some towels so he can have a cuddle. However, when Kathleen says that she is putting the towels in the wash, he escapes in the nick of time, feeling much better."
It sounds ominously like the plot from The Fugitive. I bet Jup Jup will be searching for the one-armed puppet who killed Charli.
"Doctor Kathleen is in shop. She has three toys who need medical help, and she is there to help them. Jup Jup isn't feeling well either. For each of them, Kathleen prescribes a drink of water, a cuddle, and a rest. Jup Jup wants his prescription too, and hides himself in some towels so he can have a cuddle. However, when Kathleen says that she is putting the towels in the wash, he escapes in the nick of time, feeling much better."
It sounds ominously like the plot from The Fugitive. I bet Jup Jup will be searching for the one-armed puppet who killed Charli.
Monday, September 10, 2007
Funniest Thing I've Heard in a While
Two guys over the cube wall at the office, discussing work on a new user interface:
"I heard there were two skins."
"There are only four skins."
"I heard there were two skins."
"There are only four skins."
Sunday, September 09, 2007
St. Paul Bike Classic 2007
Once again, it was time for the St. Paul Bike Classic. I've been blogging about it for four years (2006, 2005, 2004) now. Ming actually looks older than the first ride I blogged. That's just plain weird.
It threatened to be cold and wet again this year, like last year - and the temperature felt in the 50s when we started. You could see the exhaust on idling cars. Not as cold as the first few years I went myself, one of which pretty much had frost on the ground - but not a comfortable riding temperature either. It stayed cold until after Indian Mound park when I was finally able to ditch my pull over. We had nine riders this year: me, Mean Mr. Mustard, Ming, Erik, Sandy (who bailed on us for a craft fair last year), Tom (the joke last year was that he was Mean Mr. Mustard's father, but he's really just his friend from California), Alan, Kurt - who was a new rider this year, you can catch him playing accordion at Half Time Rec with the Cajun Hot Soles, I have - and Ryan, also on his first year with us. Gail bailed on us to ride with her boyfriend (I think that qualifies as cheating on us), Christy bailed on us for a run, Lisa doesn't go anywhere without Christy, Phil has a new baby and volunteer fire fighter gig, and Boss doubled booked and went to play poker until the wee hours of the morning and make obscene breast gestures at the next door neighbors. He probably wasn't doing that, but I'm going to accuse him, because he wasn't on the ride, and because he was accused by his inlaws' cabin neighbors of doing just that, which is really funny. He should have skipped poker and gone riding, as he'll have to subtract the entry fee from his poker winnings, and that's no way to play poker.
Highlights included Ryan injuring himself. The first injury in the group that I'm aware of. None of us saw it, but he took a tumble somewhere and hit the ground. His hand was all scraped up and I gave him my water bottle at Indian Mound to clean up at the porta potty washing station. I hope he used my water bottle and not the porta potty water - who knows where the hell that comes from.
We also got to enjoy riding behind a nice young lady who was paranoid enough about bike thieves, while surrounded by hundreds of unlocked bikes, that she popped her front tire off at the rest stop while she went to find a snack. Oh yeah....and she was wearing a thong. Sandy and I were talking during the ride, and Mean Mr. Mustard looked like he was just ready to burst. He finally blurted out, "That can't be comfortable!" To me. Not to her. I agreed. A few moments later two bikers rode past discussing Victoria Secret shopping - obviously the thong was a topic of discussion beyond our group. I just couldn't bring myself to take a picture of her riding with the thong sticking out - one, because it seemed rude, despite the thong hanging out there in a bike ride with thousands of people, and two, I don't want a million viewers on my blog just to see a biking thong. At least if I did, I'd want them to be here to think about how itchy and uncomfortable it looked, not whether it was sexy. As a PSA, I'd like to point out that biking shorts are made so you don't have to concern yourself with the thong v. panties issue (just to nip this in the bud, I'm referring in general to women, not to myself), you go commando.
Unfortunately, Mean Mr. Mustard didn't get the memo. Here he is adjusting his thong before using the facilities. Told you they were itchy.
There were a couple of riders this year who went above and beyond. Mean Mr. Mustard saw a turkey bike, and there was also a buffalo bike (What did the mother buffalo say as her child left to join another herd? Bi-son.)...
A bee or wasp bike...
And a narwhal bike (Mean Mr. Mustard made a rude joke about the narwhal and the stilt lady)...
Ming, Erik and Sandy getting ready for the ride. I should have
Wait...that last one was a bad picture because you can't see Sandy's socks. She actually pulled them down at Indian Mound park because she thought people were staring. I can't imagine why. Maybe you can figure it out in this photo of her riding with Tom.
Alan, Ryan and Ming discussing something near the Como rest stop, maybe the thong. Alan's making a gesture suspiciously like someone snapping an exposed waistband. Maybe they're discussing the bell on my bike. I ding it at Ming all the time when we're riding. I expect if I ever leave my bike alone in his vicinity, it might disappear. The ride out of Como was interesting as we rode right through where some of the tree damage from the storm had been.
Alan, shortly after ripping out the heart of another Bike Classic biker and preparing to consume it in an attempt to steal their strength and finish the ride. I know, I know...I should have done a video so you could see that it was so fresh it was still beating. He did finish the ride, so there must be some truth to the practice and the fact that heart goes best with lemonade.
Como rest stop. I don't know why there are so many porta potties in my pictures. I blame it on good organization skills by the Bike Classic folks who really don't want you to leave a dump anywhere inappropriate. I showed them. I appreciate that they took my advice from last year and had a different billboard up on the last leg, one without the giant spray-painted penis on it for all the kiddies to see - way to go!
Kurt enjoying the music at the Como Pavilion.
Afterward, we all went out for breakfast at the St. Clair Broiler, newly remodeled since last year. Breakfast of consensus, despite Mean Mr. Mustard's irritation about grain in an omelet, was the Iron Lake omelet. Four (4) eggs, ham, swiss cheese, wild rice, hash browns, and choice of toast. Yum. The wild rice mixed surprisingly well with the swiss and eggs.
Music at the end of the ride. I think the song was called Single Male looking for Single Female.
2007 Picture Set on Flickr.
It threatened to be cold and wet again this year, like last year - and the temperature felt in the 50s when we started. You could see the exhaust on idling cars. Not as cold as the first few years I went myself, one of which pretty much had frost on the ground - but not a comfortable riding temperature either. It stayed cold until after Indian Mound park when I was finally able to ditch my pull over. We had nine riders this year: me, Mean Mr. Mustard, Ming, Erik, Sandy (who bailed on us for a craft fair last year), Tom (the joke last year was that he was Mean Mr. Mustard's father, but he's really just his friend from California), Alan, Kurt - who was a new rider this year, you can catch him playing accordion at Half Time Rec with the Cajun Hot Soles, I have - and Ryan, also on his first year with us. Gail bailed on us to ride with her boyfriend (I think that qualifies as cheating on us), Christy bailed on us for a run, Lisa doesn't go anywhere without Christy, Phil has a new baby and volunteer fire fighter gig, and Boss doubled booked and went to play poker until the wee hours of the morning and make obscene breast gestures at the next door neighbors. He probably wasn't doing that, but I'm going to accuse him, because he wasn't on the ride, and because he was accused by his inlaws' cabin neighbors of doing just that, which is really funny. He should have skipped poker and gone riding, as he'll have to subtract the entry fee from his poker winnings, and that's no way to play poker.
Highlights included Ryan injuring himself. The first injury in the group that I'm aware of. None of us saw it, but he took a tumble somewhere and hit the ground. His hand was all scraped up and I gave him my water bottle at Indian Mound to clean up at the porta potty washing station. I hope he used my water bottle and not the porta potty water - who knows where the hell that comes from.
We also got to enjoy riding behind a nice young lady who was paranoid enough about bike thieves, while surrounded by hundreds of unlocked bikes, that she popped her front tire off at the rest stop while she went to find a snack. Oh yeah....and she was wearing a thong. Sandy and I were talking during the ride, and Mean Mr. Mustard looked like he was just ready to burst. He finally blurted out, "That can't be comfortable!" To me. Not to her. I agreed. A few moments later two bikers rode past discussing Victoria Secret shopping - obviously the thong was a topic of discussion beyond our group. I just couldn't bring myself to take a picture of her riding with the thong sticking out - one, because it seemed rude, despite the thong hanging out there in a bike ride with thousands of people, and two, I don't want a million viewers on my blog just to see a biking thong. At least if I did, I'd want them to be here to think about how itchy and uncomfortable it looked, not whether it was sexy. As a PSA, I'd like to point out that biking shorts are made so you don't have to concern yourself with the thong v. panties issue (just to nip this in the bud, I'm referring in general to women, not to myself), you go commando.
Unfortunately, Mean Mr. Mustard didn't get the memo. Here he is adjusting his thong before using the facilities. Told you they were itchy.
There were a couple of riders this year who went above and beyond. Mean Mr. Mustard saw a turkey bike, and there was also a buffalo bike (What did the mother buffalo say as her child left to join another herd? Bi-son.)...
A bee or wasp bike...
And a narwhal bike (Mean Mr. Mustard made a rude joke about the narwhal and the stilt lady)...
Ming, Erik and Sandy getting ready for the ride. I should have
Wait...that last one was a bad picture because you can't see Sandy's socks. She actually pulled them down at Indian Mound park because she thought people were staring. I can't imagine why. Maybe you can figure it out in this photo of her riding with Tom.
Alan, Ryan and Ming discussing something near the Como rest stop, maybe the thong. Alan's making a gesture suspiciously like someone snapping an exposed waistband. Maybe they're discussing the bell on my bike. I ding it at Ming all the time when we're riding. I expect if I ever leave my bike alone in his vicinity, it might disappear. The ride out of Como was interesting as we rode right through where some of the tree damage from the storm had been.
Alan, shortly after ripping out the heart of another Bike Classic biker and preparing to consume it in an attempt to steal their strength and finish the ride. I know, I know...I should have done a video so you could see that it was so fresh it was still beating. He did finish the ride, so there must be some truth to the practice and the fact that heart goes best with lemonade.
Como rest stop. I don't know why there are so many porta potties in my pictures. I blame it on good organization skills by the Bike Classic folks who really don't want you to leave a dump anywhere inappropriate. I showed them. I appreciate that they took my advice from last year and had a different billboard up on the last leg, one without the giant spray-painted penis on it for all the kiddies to see - way to go!
Kurt enjoying the music at the Como Pavilion.
Afterward, we all went out for breakfast at the St. Clair Broiler, newly remodeled since last year. Breakfast of consensus, despite Mean Mr. Mustard's irritation about grain in an omelet, was the Iron Lake omelet. Four (4) eggs, ham, swiss cheese, wild rice, hash browns, and choice of toast. Yum. The wild rice mixed surprisingly well with the swiss and eggs.
Music at the end of the ride. I think the song was called Single Male looking for Single Female.
2007 Picture Set on Flickr.
Thursday, September 06, 2007
Gifted
My mother sent me a link to a good article on gifted children from Time Magazine called "Are We Failing Our Geniuses?" Probably because a.) she knows I was bored through most of my schooling, and b.) Eryn seems smarter than either Pooteewheet or I, so we're going to have to keep on top of it, even if she's not gifted across the board.
She probably read this bit and thought of Eryn...
"Max is Gael's only child, so when he taught himself to read at 3 she says she hadn't even taught him the alphabet she wasn't sure it was so unusual. Then around age 4, he read aloud from a medical book in the doctor's office, and the doctor recommended intelligence testing. At 4, Max had the verbal skills of a 13-year-old. He skipped kindergarten, but he was still bored, and his mother despaired. No system is going to be able to keep up, she thought."
As Eryn could read at 3, and currently reads better than any of the Garlough grade schoolers I ever worked with in the reading program, you could substitute "read her father's MSDN (computer programming) magazine", and it might be almost verbatim - except we haven't skipped her over kindergarten, we've just found her a private school instead of daycare.
Anyway, the thrust of the article is that gifted kids drop out of school at about the same rate as the severely challenged, and that the answer is often to pair them up with the challenged, or let them float, hoping they find their own way: "We tend to assume that the highly gifted will eventually find their way--they're smart, right?" Both of which are invalid responses. It's surprising they're considered valid at all, because this quote: "As Columbia education professor Abraham Tannenbaum has written, 'Giftedness requires social context that enables it.' Like a muscle, raw intelligence can't build if it's not exercised," is obvious to any tech lead. Your developers, if you leave them on trackers and stupid things where they don't stretch their imagination and their skills, stagnate. You have to challenge them to make them better, and good programmers thrive when challenged. I'm not saying all programmers are geniuses, I'm just drawing the comparison that using and improving your brain is an active skill.
If you have a genius around, and you don't mind sending them to school under a couple of Republicans in Reno, Nevada, Davidson Academy sounds exceptional. I like it that they've been accused of being elitest. Of course they're elitest. It's a school for smart kids. But the idea of setting the kids loose to study at their own pace and challenge each other sounds like it works. It would be interesting to meet some of them after they've grown up to see how their socialization went.
She probably read this bit and thought of Eryn...
"Max is Gael's only child, so when he taught himself to read at 3 she says she hadn't even taught him the alphabet she wasn't sure it was so unusual. Then around age 4, he read aloud from a medical book in the doctor's office, and the doctor recommended intelligence testing. At 4, Max had the verbal skills of a 13-year-old. He skipped kindergarten, but he was still bored, and his mother despaired. No system is going to be able to keep up, she thought."
As Eryn could read at 3, and currently reads better than any of the Garlough grade schoolers I ever worked with in the reading program, you could substitute "read her father's MSDN (computer programming) magazine", and it might be almost verbatim - except we haven't skipped her over kindergarten, we've just found her a private school instead of daycare.
Anyway, the thrust of the article is that gifted kids drop out of school at about the same rate as the severely challenged, and that the answer is often to pair them up with the challenged, or let them float, hoping they find their own way: "We tend to assume that the highly gifted will eventually find their way--they're smart, right?" Both of which are invalid responses. It's surprising they're considered valid at all, because this quote: "As Columbia education professor Abraham Tannenbaum has written, 'Giftedness requires social context that enables it.' Like a muscle, raw intelligence can't build if it's not exercised," is obvious to any tech lead. Your developers, if you leave them on trackers and stupid things where they don't stretch their imagination and their skills, stagnate. You have to challenge them to make them better, and good programmers thrive when challenged. I'm not saying all programmers are geniuses, I'm just drawing the comparison that using and improving your brain is an active skill.
If you have a genius around, and you don't mind sending them to school under a couple of Republicans in Reno, Nevada, Davidson Academy sounds exceptional. I like it that they've been accused of being elitest. Of course they're elitest. It's a school for smart kids. But the idea of setting the kids loose to study at their own pace and challenge each other sounds like it works. It would be interesting to meet some of them after they've grown up to see how their socialization went.
Magnetic Meme
She Says, mother to be (congrats on the nookie with a purpose SM! Complain that sex for the sake of procreation feels mechanic and rote and unromantic and see if she does something "different". Consider it a strange, but useful, bargaining chip.), has a meme on her blog that involves detailing many of the things on your fridge. As Pooteewheet's laptop is currently awaiting a new power cord, I will now run up and down the stairs trying to remember what I see. Like one of those games where there's a whole bunch of shit under a blanket, and it's lifted for a few seconds, and you have to write down everything you see? Never done that? Then you've never been to a Boy Scout demo at a Mall. Those were the days...crap under a blanket, fake indoor fires, pinewood demo races, and giant bow and drill method fire lighting in the parking lot.
But I digress! On to the fridge! And I lied, I'm not running up and down. Since I've cleaned the computer room (70% complete - still waiting on a few things to move out of house) I've found the Post-Its (c) so I can record. Moving from the left, to the front, to the right:
But I digress! On to the fridge! And I lied, I'm not running up and down. Since I've cleaned the computer room (70% complete - still waiting on a few things to move out of house) I've found the Post-Its (c) so I can record. Moving from the left, to the front, to the right:
- Four (4) Wallace and Grommit magnets
- Eryn's duck ear ring (magnetic)
- "Come the Rapture, Can I have your car" bumper sticker - the one that got a woman to harrass Pooteewheet in the Home Depot parking lot
- MN Rollergirls schedule
- Letter J magnet - one of those colored kid's magnetic letters
- Frog magnet
- Ladies Sewing Circle and Terrorist Society magnet
- Coupon for Chuck and Don's Pet Food, free item worth $3 or less - won at the fair on the wheel of fortune in the pet surgery area
- Miya Kunin's String Studio brochure - violin for toddlers (not to be confused with the woman from "That 70's Show").
- Christy and Ty Christmas card featuring them pictured with Penn and Teller
- RenFest coupon
- Three pictures of Eryn - halloween, snowman, Chuck E. Cheese
- September lunch schedule for Tesseract
- Postcard from Grandpa and Grandma - Hubbell Trading Post National Historic Site in Arizona
- Postcard from Grandpa and Grandma with writing - Hubbell Trading Post Rug Room
- Two Frank Lloyd Wright magnets
- 2 little magnetic bendy men
- On top of the fridge - breadmaker, 12 pastic containers (destined for school, an empty egg carton (likewise) and an empty photo album (ditto)
- Picture of the kids of the Gulf War soldier we sent books, candy, cards, etc. to at the beginning of Gulf II.
- Lots of magnetic poetry words including, "her forest after worship" and "power will show men"
- Art from Eryn: 1 armed guy from just yesterday (guess she reads Hedy too), My Little Pony, Butterfly, etc.
- Lyrics to "My Little Baby Loves Shortnin' Bread"
- Big South Park magnet
- "It's hard to convince people you're killing them for their own good" bumper sticker
- Instructions to help Eryn get past her constipation, including use of a Fleet enema
- Tsuki sushi magnet from Chicago
- Dentist magnet
- Picture of Eryn at Charie's watching a friend play guitar
- Picture of Christy I was given by Scott and encouraged to "use in a creative way" (yet to be done)
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
Eyetastic
I was out at Hedy's blog today (sorry, she's private - lawyer ethics or stalkers or something) hoping she'd posted something new about her one-armed escapades in SE Asia (she has both arms - but not necessarily the boys she meets). The page loaded slow, and I dragged too fast, and this is what I got. I don't think having one arm is creepy, but having twenty-six eyes is definitely a little offputting. Think of the offspring! It is kind of artsy when you look a it long enough - almost hypnotic.
Child Rearing
These things may constitute inappropriate child rearing. I hope they help you in raising your own child:
1.) do not scare her while she's brushing her teeth, you'll get a lecture when she spits toothpaste all over her arm.
2.) do not, after she watches Hercules and gets spooked by Hercules diving into Death's river and turning old and almost dying, roll your lips over your teeth like an old man and ask for a kiss.
3.) do not let your friends trick her into believing that when she's forgotten to brush her teeth, that she might not be allowed into the State Fair. She'll hide her mouth and turn her head away from the ticket takers before proclaiming she knew it was all made up.
On the other hand, her first day of five-day-a-week school where they teach math, science and Spanish seemed to go very well.
1.) do not scare her while she's brushing her teeth, you'll get a lecture when she spits toothpaste all over her arm.
2.) do not, after she watches Hercules and gets spooked by Hercules diving into Death's river and turning old and almost dying, roll your lips over your teeth like an old man and ask for a kiss.
3.) do not let your friends trick her into believing that when she's forgotten to brush her teeth, that she might not be allowed into the State Fair. She'll hide her mouth and turn her head away from the ticket takers before proclaiming she knew it was all made up.
On the other hand, her first day of five-day-a-week school where they teach math, science and Spanish seemed to go very well.
Trepination
That last post seemed to garner a little more commentary than my usual ramblings. I admit - it was a bit more obtuse than most of my posts, and some of you seemed concerned that I was drinking myself into a spot where diefic trepanation was an inebriated fantasy, but it's not. I cut the heads off of Mary, Joseph and Jesus and mailed them. While this might seem sacriligious, it was entirely justified given the circumstances, and my new appreciation of Jacobson's Organ, and ye who shall receive, shall understand why. My only regret is not taking a picture first so that there was proof of my crime.
And yes, I was involved in sending squashed clams and itty-bitty peanut butter sandwiches to a .NET publisher, fermenting sushi and macarconi to a future high-school teacher (although it was intercepted by the U.S. Postal Service and those of us involved were served a cease and desist regarding transporting unsafe substances in the mail), and troikas of Morman girls to unsuspecting friends ill prepared to resist the tempations of the spirit. These things were necessary in their time and place. As the good book says, there's a season to dance, a season to sing, and a season to mail shit to your friends and call the Mormon hotline on them.
P.S. I don't need tongs. I have many. I'm just too lazy to get them when another instrument is nearby, regardless of how inadequate that instrument seems.
And yes, I was involved in sending squashed clams and itty-bitty peanut butter sandwiches to a .NET publisher, fermenting sushi and macarconi to a future high-school teacher (although it was intercepted by the U.S. Postal Service and those of us involved were served a cease and desist regarding transporting unsafe substances in the mail), and troikas of Morman girls to unsuspecting friends ill prepared to resist the tempations of the spirit. These things were necessary in their time and place. As the good book says, there's a season to dance, a season to sing, and a season to mail shit to your friends and call the Mormon hotline on them.
P.S. I don't need tongs. I have many. I'm just too lazy to get them when another instrument is nearby, regardless of how inadequate that instrument seems.
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
Memories of Murder
Pooteewheet and I watched Salinui chueok or Memories of Murder over the last two days. It purports to be a South Korean movie based on the investigation of South Korea's first serial killer who killed 10 women in six years. While this might seem tragic and disturbing...and it is...it's also funny in a keystone cops way, as the local cops beat the crap out of anyone that might possibly be a suspect, trying to force them to fit the mold, and the knowledgeable cop from Seoul spends his time doing something closer to real investigation. In the end, the local cop learns a few thing about real investigation, and the Seoul cop learns how to kick the crap out of perps. Uplifting. I offer a few choice scenes and comments. There's a bit of paraphrasing because I can't be troubled to write things down verbatim, I can only impart the spirit of what I see. That said...I'm damn close to spot on.
"We don't have the technology in Korea. It must be sent to America." (Cops all look really dejected. Regarding DNA testing, but they seem to be making a larger point.)
A note: apparently, as long as I show up at the hospital with someone in semi-rural Korea, I can authorize surgery, up to and including amputating below the knee. This is good to know if I hate someone and can get them anywhere near Korea. In this particular case, the cop in question was using his leg below the knee to don a sporty hand-sewn booty he used to kick the crap out of perps, making it somewhat ironic. But that irony was probably lost on his partner. I could find funnier uses. "Damn straight I'm sure. My brother-in-law has been talking about being a woman for the last six years."
My favorite - local cop, who's just finished a rousing round of karaoke where he harasses and physically annoys patrons, and Seoul cop, both drunk and arguing, local cop's buddy (the booty perp kicker) mauling what seems to be a prostitute behind the booth, the police chief getting ready to hurl and make another possible prostitute haul it away. Local cop opines, "You know what they have in the United States? The F.B.I. And their heads are always spinning, like tops. Because you know what they have in the United States? Lots of land. So they always have to be thinking because they have so much ground to cover. If they're weren't thinking first, they'd never get done. But Korea. Korea's only as big as my dick. You can walk across the whole country. That's why they say Korean cops investigate with their feet."
Needless to say, that local cop seemed to be smaller than me. So if he's average, I'm going to assume my dick is actually bigger than Korea. You can argue with me if you like, but I have Korean cinema to back me up on this. You'll just have to blame Netflix for letting me anywhere near another culture.
"We don't have the technology in Korea. It must be sent to America." (Cops all look really dejected. Regarding DNA testing, but they seem to be making a larger point.)
A note: apparently, as long as I show up at the hospital with someone in semi-rural Korea, I can authorize surgery, up to and including amputating below the knee. This is good to know if I hate someone and can get them anywhere near Korea. In this particular case, the cop in question was using his leg below the knee to don a sporty hand-sewn booty he used to kick the crap out of perps, making it somewhat ironic. But that irony was probably lost on his partner. I could find funnier uses. "Damn straight I'm sure. My brother-in-law has been talking about being a woman for the last six years."
My favorite - local cop, who's just finished a rousing round of karaoke where he harasses and physically annoys patrons, and Seoul cop, both drunk and arguing, local cop's buddy (the booty perp kicker) mauling what seems to be a prostitute behind the booth, the police chief getting ready to hurl and make another possible prostitute haul it away. Local cop opines, "You know what they have in the United States? The F.B.I. And their heads are always spinning, like tops. Because you know what they have in the United States? Lots of land. So they always have to be thinking because they have so much ground to cover. If they're weren't thinking first, they'd never get done. But Korea. Korea's only as big as my dick. You can walk across the whole country. That's why they say Korean cops investigate with their feet."
Needless to say, that local cop seemed to be smaller than me. So if he's average, I'm going to assume my dick is actually bigger than Korea. You can argue with me if you like, but I have Korean cinema to back me up on this. You'll just have to blame Netflix for letting me anywhere near another culture.
The Wisdom of Scooter
If you chop the heads off Jesus, the Virgin Mary and Joseph, it will cost you $4.68 to mail them, Godfather style. This is really expensive compared to first class mail, like if you were to mail retro drug company swag in a ziploc baggy box. If I had to do it again, I'd take a grinder to everyone's brain first, shearing off the back 1/3-2/3 of each head, that way they'd fit in the reduced price slot at the company post office. Remember, Jesus helps those who help themselves.
If you carry a dozen donuts and three baby books through the halls at work, you're likely to be a bit paranoid that people think you're celebrating another child. When I say "people", I mean everyone except the guy who can't figure out that the donut with the tan frosting is maple. He's got other problems.
When confronted with a flat head screwdriver and a rolling brat, do not try to "control" the brat with the screwdriver. This doesn't work. Rather, you should just stab it and hope that your screwdriver is long enough to protect you from grease and injected cheese. Trying to stop it from rolling off the grill but haphazardly poking at it is a fool's errand and likely to end in tragedy.
If you carry a dozen donuts and three baby books through the halls at work, you're likely to be a bit paranoid that people think you're celebrating another child. When I say "people", I mean everyone except the guy who can't figure out that the donut with the tan frosting is maple. He's got other problems.
When confronted with a flat head screwdriver and a rolling brat, do not try to "control" the brat with the screwdriver. This doesn't work. Rather, you should just stab it and hope that your screwdriver is long enough to protect you from grease and injected cheese. Trying to stop it from rolling off the grill but haphazardly poking at it is a fool's errand and likely to end in tragedy.
Sunday, September 02, 2007
Do You Have Anything Swollen
"Do you have anything swollen?" This was the very uncomfortable question Ming asked me, sort of out of the blue, during our bike ride on the Luce Line Trail today. I don't think that's a question you should ask a friend, not without a lot of ground work. Of course, if Lance Armstrong's friends had asked him that question more often, he might still have two testicles.
Still...perhaps that's a less embarrassing question than the idea of trying to explain to your wife that you and your friends are just going out for a bike ride. A ride you like to call Spokeback Mountain. "Really honey, it's nothing. It's just a ride we do every year. Just us guys. We bike to the most remote parts of the trail and bond. What? No, I don't know why he keeps calling and reminding me to bring my spoke protector and chain tool."
So here's Kyle, at about mile 37 of our approximately 52-mile journey, looking all Spokeback. You can't see them, but there are a million immature box elder bugs in the grass and rocks and leaf litter and bench and on us in this picture. I'm not sure if it was them biting, or something else - but it was really annoying. I got some bug down my shirt later that stung me three times. I checked for welts when I got home because I was paranoid it was some wasp-related insect that was going to put me into anaphylactic shock.
A close up of the picture - carefully rendered so you know where Columbus, Ohio is in relation to the bench, and you can appreciate the riderless bicycles crossing the American alps to reach whatever is represented by a question mark and a rusty bolt.
Ming and Kyle. The Luce Line isn't as nice as some of the other trails we've been on. Gravel, for starters. And it looks more like a road than a trail in parts, particularly once you get past Watertown and head toward Winstead. The loose gravel makes for a much more tiring ride. I don't usually ache at all from a 50 mile ride, and I was feeling this one when I got home.
We had a very nice lunch at R&B in Watertown. They serve breakfast all day long on weekends, and it was very tasty and not too far off the trail (if you see the Watertown town hall, get off there and bike down main street a bit. That's also where you'll find the grocery store if you need water or snacks). Eating a three-egg ham and cheese omelet with hash browns and toast with coffee may have been overdoing it a bit. My stomach was rumbling for hours. I do think I fared better than Kyle who ate chicken-fried steak. That seemed like some serious food to digest during a long ride.
There are a few more pictures out on Flickr.
Still...perhaps that's a less embarrassing question than the idea of trying to explain to your wife that you and your friends are just going out for a bike ride. A ride you like to call Spokeback Mountain. "Really honey, it's nothing. It's just a ride we do every year. Just us guys. We bike to the most remote parts of the trail and bond. What? No, I don't know why he keeps calling and reminding me to bring my spoke protector and chain tool."
So here's Kyle, at about mile 37 of our approximately 52-mile journey, looking all Spokeback. You can't see them, but there are a million immature box elder bugs in the grass and rocks and leaf litter and bench and on us in this picture. I'm not sure if it was them biting, or something else - but it was really annoying. I got some bug down my shirt later that stung me three times. I checked for welts when I got home because I was paranoid it was some wasp-related insect that was going to put me into anaphylactic shock.
A close up of the picture - carefully rendered so you know where Columbus, Ohio is in relation to the bench, and you can appreciate the riderless bicycles crossing the American alps to reach whatever is represented by a question mark and a rusty bolt.
Ming and Kyle. The Luce Line isn't as nice as some of the other trails we've been on. Gravel, for starters. And it looks more like a road than a trail in parts, particularly once you get past Watertown and head toward Winstead. The loose gravel makes for a much more tiring ride. I don't usually ache at all from a 50 mile ride, and I was feeling this one when I got home.
We had a very nice lunch at R&B in Watertown. They serve breakfast all day long on weekends, and it was very tasty and not too far off the trail (if you see the Watertown town hall, get off there and bike down main street a bit. That's also where you'll find the grocery store if you need water or snacks). Eating a three-egg ham and cheese omelet with hash browns and toast with coffee may have been overdoing it a bit. My stomach was rumbling for hours. I do think I fared better than Kyle who ate chicken-fried steak. That seemed like some serious food to digest during a long ride.
There are a few more pictures out on Flickr.
Saturday, September 01, 2007
A Lesson
If you shoot your dog in the butt with a Nerf pistol (I've been hit with the Nerf pistol, it's not that bad), your dog may pee all over the carpet. These are things the Humane Society does not tell you.
Note: the dog pees on the carpet for other reasons, like "because", but this one you can't get mad about, after all, it's your fault.
Note: the dog pees on the carpet for other reasons, like "because", but this one you can't get mad about, after all, it's your fault.
Battle of the Computer Room
Faced with a field of battle designed in all ways to work against me, I took my fight to the plain nonetheless - scrounging, scraping, tossing, fighting a Sherman-esque campaign of slash and burn meant to ensure that the enemy could not regroup behind me. I disposed of two broken computer desks (sort of - they're in little pieces destined for the dump), two computers (sort of - they're bundled up, one for my parents' cabin, one for whomever I can donate it to, if they'll take a Centrino with Windows 98), a bag of trash packed to overflowing that I could barely lift plus a full box and another box-sized pile of junk, and I'm pondering how to adequately dispose of all the retro video games that were in here and need a home, not to mention the extensive collection of cables and cords. If I find the time, I'll top it all off by finding a flat screen for my desk so I can move the big screen to my parents' cabin and donate the other screen with the Win98 machine. By then, hopefully I'll have disposed of over 400# of junk and left myself with a computer room that could, theoretically, host a futon. I'm not saying I'm a futon kind of guy, but I'd like the option to be that kind of guy, or maybe the kind of guy with a large t.v. on the wall if I ever come into a figurative "shitpot" of money. I'm not saying I'm done. I've got a broken guitar, a recliner that doesn't really belong in here, an ironing board, a picture frame, and a variety of misplaced junk - but I'm one day closer to ideal.
If only there weren't half a dozen other rooms, not including the garage, that aren't in need of the exact same attention to detail. Which reminds me: need baby stuff? board games? old video games? computers? I may be the go-to guy. I should have a garage sale - but I'm likely to donate it all, so if you're interested in anything in particular, I might be willing to trade it for beer.
If only there weren't half a dozen other rooms, not including the garage, that aren't in need of the exact same attention to detail. Which reminds me: need baby stuff? board games? old video games? computers? I may be the go-to guy. I should have a garage sale - but I'm likely to donate it all, so if you're interested in anything in particular, I might be willing to trade it for beer.
Friday, August 31, 2007
Games
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.
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.
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
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