We bought a converter box yesterday. The national government is requiring a switch to digital TV, which I think means that if you use bunny ears, you have to use a converter box to watch anything. Then they tried to help poor folks like me out by issuing a $40 coupon over the internet to offset the cost.
We have cable right now that costs us $20 a month. It's actually been climbing recently. In the fall, we downgraded to basic cable which reduced our cost from $45 to $19. Every month now it seems to be going up 30 cents or so, and our last bill topped $22. Anyways, the idea that we could watch most of the same channels for a one-time $10 cost sounds pretty good to me. At least it did.
First off, getting it was an adventure. We walked to Wal-Mart and had to search the store for it, and then the cashier, with limited English, didn't understand what to do with our coupon, that admittedly looks and feels like a credit card. In the end though, we walked out only spending the 10 dollars.
So then we hooked it up. I should say that I bypassed the instructions, figuring you attach all the cables to where they look like they belong, but I'm pretty sure that I did it all correctly. I turned it on and went through the set-up menu choosing autoscan, and waited ten minutes as it searched for channels.
The moment of truth came next, and I eagerly pressed the channel up button and was greeted by a digitally broken image of the weather channel. That was okay, it was just the weather channel... I've got the internet, no need for the weather channel. I pressed channel up again, and... a digitally broken infomercial on ABC.
Hmmm... I tried again, and success! We got, in crystal-clear technicolor, MHZnet2, which was currently showing what looked like India's equivalent to the Gospel hour on your community channel. Hey, I thought, at least it was something. I tried again, MHZnet3 came next showing -
I think - a Japanese documentary on Japanese maids. You know the kind all dolled up and taking tiny steps as they serve you tea with their heads down.
This was not looking good. I tried again, MHZnet6 was next. I believe their programming at the time was on global finance. It was being broadcast in Russian. MHZglobe, or something like that, was in english, and it had an elephant documentary. I might actually watch this normally, but I was hoping to find something a little more... tv-like, so I continued on.
The only other two channels we got were the kids' programming channel Qubo and a channel called Worship that had about twenty four-year-olds jumping up and down on a floor mat. No words, just kids jumping up and down in a dark room. I watched it for a minute waiting for something to happen. I couldn't tell what they worshipping, but it clearly demanded a lot of jumping. Perhaps it was symbolic.
Perhaps it was symbolic of what I expected from my converter box - free TV - and what I actually got - free exercise... well, $10 worth of exercise.
I'll have to try again at some point now that I know what to expect, frustration. But until then, twenty dollars for twelve channels doesn't sound so bad.
(Now that I'm getting back to blogging, I'll try to start taking pictures again.)
Sunday, July 06, 2008
Saturday, July 05, 2008
Patriotic Flag Burning
I wish I had pictures for this.
Yesterday, on July 4th, I participated in a flag-burning. Before you get all up in arms let me explain. My flag-burning experience was a ceremony, not a demonstration. It turns out that the proper way to retire a flag is either through burning or burial, so we were doing nothing wrong. We were simply following the directions according to the official Flag Code.
Tiff's family did it all up with on official script; I first explained what was happening, then I called out the thirteen colonies in the order that they, I guess, signed the Declaration of Independence as we tossed each stripe into the flames individually. We even had a veteran approve the flags for retirement. It was a very moving ceremony.
It was also amazing how fast a flag goes up in flames, in the rain none-the-less. It's like it wanted to burn. Anyways, that's all the fireworks we saw yesterday, the rain kept us inside most of the day. Oh well, guess I'll just have to wait until next year's Kentucky Derby.
Yesterday, on July 4th, I participated in a flag-burning. Before you get all up in arms let me explain. My flag-burning experience was a ceremony, not a demonstration. It turns out that the proper way to retire a flag is either through burning or burial, so we were doing nothing wrong. We were simply following the directions according to the official Flag Code.
Tiff's family did it all up with on official script; I first explained what was happening, then I called out the thirteen colonies in the order that they, I guess, signed the Declaration of Independence as we tossed each stripe into the flames individually. We even had a veteran approve the flags for retirement. It was a very moving ceremony.
It was also amazing how fast a flag goes up in flames, in the rain none-the-less. It's like it wanted to burn. Anyways, that's all the fireworks we saw yesterday, the rain kept us inside most of the day. Oh well, guess I'll just have to wait until next year's Kentucky Derby.
Oh, we got a video of it. It's twenty minutes long. If we ever figure out how to break it up, I'll post it on YouTube.
Friday, July 04, 2008
Freedom!
Happy Fourth of July everybody!
I'm celebrating mine with my first day of independence not working at my old job. While it has a touch of sadness, I'm so excited to never have to work all night again that I think I'll get over it. It was harder to leave than I had thought though. I mean, I didn't have to throw any tea overboard, or declare war or anything, but in the past week or so I've realized how much I've grown working at the Shelter.
Anyways, now, like any newly independent nation, on to the role of the taxman.
I'm celebrating mine with my first day of independence not working at my old job. While it has a touch of sadness, I'm so excited to never have to work all night again that I think I'll get over it. It was harder to leave than I had thought though. I mean, I didn't have to throw any tea overboard, or declare war or anything, but in the past week or so I've realized how much I've grown working at the Shelter.
Anyways, now, like any newly independent nation, on to the role of the taxman.
Monday, April 07, 2008
Baltimore: Part Two
Not to be disappointed with our luck at the National Ballroom Dancing event, we walked over to Camden Yards to watch the Baltimore Orioles play. There weren't too many folks there so $15 dollars a ticket afforded us some pretty good seats, right down the 3rd base line about even with the left fielder.
Here's a video from the night:
I hadn't been to a baseball game in a number of years, and while I didn't really care who won, Baltimore or Seattle, it was still a lot of fun. One of the best parts about it was that Tiff had never been to a baseball game. Her reaction as we were getting tickets - after the game had already begun - to the swell of the crowd reacting to a play was classic, just like any 5 year old's with bulging eyes and true sense of awe.
It was with that same sense of awe that Tiff repeatedly asked what to do if the ball was hit directly at us. While I'm sure my early responses were something along the lines of both "Catch it" and "Get out of the way," they quickly turned to "If you get hit, we're sure to get on TV." It's not that I want to see my new wife beamed by a foul ball, it's that she seemed so worried about it for soooo long that I ran out of things to say.
That was Dave and Kim that we're with. They're way-cool. For some reason, here's another video just one out after the first one:
And here's the last video we took, one more out later - I do say a bad word here:
Yes, holy shit, I caught a foul ball.
Just to clarify, I didn't actually catch it. I saw it coming and admittedly, "Catch it" was never a thought so I ducked out of the way. Tiff, with literally no time to spare, did the same and the ball crashed into the seat next to hers. It literally would have knocked her out had she not moved at the last second. The ball bounced up a couple of empty rows, Dave throws his beer behind him and lunges over several rows, sprawled out across the seats, only to have a swarm of people do the same hing, but land on him instead of the seats. The ball, meanwhile, slowly rolled towards me and I picked it up.
With that in mind, perhaps my level of jubilation was a little bit extreme, but it's not going to stop from me saying that I caught a foul ball. It will stop me from talking though, as I woke up the next day unable to make any sound whatsoever.
Here's a video from the night:
I hadn't been to a baseball game in a number of years, and while I didn't really care who won, Baltimore or Seattle, it was still a lot of fun. One of the best parts about it was that Tiff had never been to a baseball game. Her reaction as we were getting tickets - after the game had already begun - to the swell of the crowd reacting to a play was classic, just like any 5 year old's with bulging eyes and true sense of awe.
It was with that same sense of awe that Tiff repeatedly asked what to do if the ball was hit directly at us. While I'm sure my early responses were something along the lines of both "Catch it" and "Get out of the way," they quickly turned to "If you get hit, we're sure to get on TV." It's not that I want to see my new wife beamed by a foul ball, it's that she seemed so worried about it for soooo long that I ran out of things to say.
That was Dave and Kim that we're with. They're way-cool. For some reason, here's another video just one out after the first one:
And here's the last video we took, one more out later - I do say a bad word here:
Yes, holy shit, I caught a foul ball.
Just to clarify, I didn't actually catch it. I saw it coming and admittedly, "Catch it" was never a thought so I ducked out of the way. Tiff, with literally no time to spare, did the same and the ball crashed into the seat next to hers. It literally would have knocked her out had she not moved at the last second. The ball bounced up a couple of empty rows, Dave throws his beer behind him and lunges over several rows, sprawled out across the seats, only to have a swarm of people do the same hing, but land on him instead of the seats. The ball, meanwhile, slowly rolled towards me and I picked it up.
With that in mind, perhaps my level of jubilation was a little bit extreme, but it's not going to stop from me saying that I caught a foul ball. It will stop me from talking though, as I woke up the next day unable to make any sound whatsoever.
Baltimore: Part One
This weekend I found myself in Baltimore. My way-cool friend, Dave, and his way-cool girlfriend, Kim, had a way-cool hotel room right at the Inner Harbor. Tiff and I went up for a night.
The hotel that we were staying in was hosting a National Ballroom Dancing competition. While Dave dismissed the event off-hand, the rest of us, myself included, were eager to see the dance-off. We waded through countless men with numbers on their back and women decked out in some funny looking dresses that connect to the wrist and enough make-up to make me want to become an Avon lady, to learn that it's by invite only.
While many of them were surprisingly young, as young as 12 or 13 maybe, it was clear that there were several big names in dancing. In fact, in a cramped elevator, a short Asian man with apparently limited English skills, turned to one of the passengers and asked, "Are you, John, Johnny, Jonathon? You dance this weekend?"
John, Johnny, Jonathon smiled with his slicked back hair and coolly said, "No, not this weekend. I'm just a spectator this weekend," just like I'm sure any big name celebrity would do. He then led his lady friend by the arm off the elevator, taking long graceful strides, all the while pointing his toe.
The hotel that we were staying in was hosting a National Ballroom Dancing competition. While Dave dismissed the event off-hand, the rest of us, myself included, were eager to see the dance-off. We waded through countless men with numbers on their back and women decked out in some funny looking dresses that connect to the wrist and enough make-up to make me want to become an Avon lady, to learn that it's by invite only.
While many of them were surprisingly young, as young as 12 or 13 maybe, it was clear that there were several big names in dancing. In fact, in a cramped elevator, a short Asian man with apparently limited English skills, turned to one of the passengers and asked, "Are you, John, Johnny, Jonathon? You dance this weekend?"
John, Johnny, Jonathon smiled with his slicked back hair and coolly said, "No, not this weekend. I'm just a spectator this weekend," just like I'm sure any big name celebrity would do. He then led his lady friend by the arm off the elevator, taking long graceful strides, all the while pointing his toe.
Thursday, April 03, 2008
Baseball
I mentioned recently that I was "prepared to give up baseball." I said this as I was annoyed by basketball and all the hubbub around March Madness. Plus, while the steroids issue should probably put a dark cloud over all sports, right now it's just hovering over baseball. And on top of that, those guys get paid too much. They really do.
Anyways, with the start of the baseball season under way, I find myself checking the scores and reading all the stats in my late-night boredom every night, just as I have for the past few years... and I still get excited about it. A seven run 8th inning, wow!
I am frustrated though with the media coverage of the sports world. On Sunday, for instance, I watched the local news hoping to see a few clips of the soccer game from the night before, DC's season opener, a 2-0 loss. They spent nearly the whole newscast - not just the sports - talking about the baseball season opener. Now, Ben Olsen, one of the few guys whose name I know, has to have ankle surgery and I don't know what happened or how long he's out, or anything. The news won't tell me. Yahoo sports won't tell me. Wikipedia won't tell me. DC United's website won't even tell me!
I guess soccer's time hasn't quite come yet. While I will watch the soccer that I can, I'll be hoping for a few more seven run 8th innings too.
Anyways, with the start of the baseball season under way, I find myself checking the scores and reading all the stats in my late-night boredom every night, just as I have for the past few years... and I still get excited about it. A seven run 8th inning, wow!
I am frustrated though with the media coverage of the sports world. On Sunday, for instance, I watched the local news hoping to see a few clips of the soccer game from the night before, DC's season opener, a 2-0 loss. They spent nearly the whole newscast - not just the sports - talking about the baseball season opener. Now, Ben Olsen, one of the few guys whose name I know, has to have ankle surgery and I don't know what happened or how long he's out, or anything. The news won't tell me. Yahoo sports won't tell me. Wikipedia won't tell me. DC United's website won't even tell me!
I guess soccer's time hasn't quite come yet. While I will watch the soccer that I can, I'll be hoping for a few more seven run 8th innings too.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
My Cat
Because I don't want to shortchange our cat...
We started having her sit in response to a clip of Vanna White trying to make her cat sit for treats.
Oh... and next on my list of things to do: get a haircut.
Friday, March 28, 2008
Skin Test
I'm allergic to cockroaches.
I'm still battling hives, and after a week of scratching as I haven't been able to take any medication for my hives, I finally had a skin test done. The way they do a skin test is to write a grid all across your back and stick you with a bunch of different needles - by my count it was about 342 dozen painful pricks or so. The pricks up near the shoulders are relatively pain free. They are nice enough to start you out up there, but as the endless pricking continues, the lower ones hurt a lot and a number of them sent chills all throughout my body.
When your back is completely covered in small nicks of blood, then you have to wait twenty minutes and not scratch, even though almost immediately that is the only thing you want to do. This is when my long battle with hives has come in handy. I've gotten to the point where I usually don't think about scratching when I itch, which is a little messed up. My experience with the skin test yesteday is that the nurse is nice enough to check back in every so often with friendly reminders that you itch all over. "Oh, it looks like you have a few spots that really itch! No scratching! Fifteen more minutes!" I think she enjoys the torture.
My allergies include ragweed, dust mites, some sort of mold, and yes, cockroaches. I've never had seasonal allergies so ragweed was surprising. The dust mites, the doctor's free brochure tells me, are ugly little things that accumulate in my mattress. I first learn this during my brief time selling vacuums and quickly recall that dust mites excrete ten times their own body weight each and every day! Mold and cockroaches I'm sure that I'm around, but I almost never see them.
Anyways, the good doctor concludes that my hives are not an allergic reaction. What this means is that my body is causing the hives and I just have to live with it, for up to fifteen years, at which point it will be 2023 and I'll be comforted by my flying car and robotic housekeeper.
I also have a minor allergy to my cat, which still has no name, but isn't going anywhere.
Or at least that's what my wife says.
I'm still battling hives, and after a week of scratching as I haven't been able to take any medication for my hives, I finally had a skin test done. The way they do a skin test is to write a grid all across your back and stick you with a bunch of different needles - by my count it was about 342 dozen painful pricks or so. The pricks up near the shoulders are relatively pain free. They are nice enough to start you out up there, but as the endless pricking continues, the lower ones hurt a lot and a number of them sent chills all throughout my body.
When your back is completely covered in small nicks of blood, then you have to wait twenty minutes and not scratch, even though almost immediately that is the only thing you want to do. This is when my long battle with hives has come in handy. I've gotten to the point where I usually don't think about scratching when I itch, which is a little messed up. My experience with the skin test yesteday is that the nurse is nice enough to check back in every so often with friendly reminders that you itch all over. "Oh, it looks like you have a few spots that really itch! No scratching! Fifteen more minutes!" I think she enjoys the torture.
My allergies include ragweed, dust mites, some sort of mold, and yes, cockroaches. I've never had seasonal allergies so ragweed was surprising. The dust mites, the doctor's free brochure tells me, are ugly little things that accumulate in my mattress. I first learn this during my brief time selling vacuums and quickly recall that dust mites excrete ten times their own body weight each and every day! Mold and cockroaches I'm sure that I'm around, but I almost never see them.
Anyways, the good doctor concludes that my hives are not an allergic reaction. What this means is that my body is causing the hives and I just have to live with it, for up to fifteen years, at which point it will be 2023 and I'll be comforted by my flying car and robotic housekeeper.
I also have a minor allergy to my cat, which still has no name, but isn't going anywhere.
Or at least that's what my wife says.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
More on My Greatness
Building on that last post, I love England. 
I've tried to write about this before but I don't think I ever did so successfully, so if this is a repeated idea, I apologize.
I love England for it's greatness. And by England, I mean Great Britain. Don't get me wrong, I'm proud to be an American, where at least I know I'm free. But I think if I were English I'd also be free, and I'd have a good chance of being great. I don't know any statistics, but just think about all the British people. The Beatles, Harry Potter, James Bond, the Rolling Stones, The Lord of the Rings guy, Clive Owen, umm... Sir Francis Drake... that's not too mention the English language and the English system of government and maybe some other stuff. I mean the English are great!
I think England's greatness stems from its size. The entire country is about twice the size of my state, or commonwealth, Virginia, albeit it much more populated. If you're English, you're English, whereas if you live in Virginia, you're American. I feel like there is a responsibility to be great if you're English; you have to represent, whereas for me, if I'm not great, I'm sure one of the other 300,000,000 will be. I know they're out there, I watch American Idol.
Furthermore, I just read that Raphael, the artist not the mutant turtle, was born in this tiny town called Urbino, which Wikipedia says is "small but artistically significant." For some reason it makes me want to be an Urbino-eer, Urbino-ite, Urbinese. I want to be from somewhere important and loved. I want to be important and loved.
I'm from Roswell, GA, which was a great place to grow up, but I don't really have a sense of pride about it. I have a hard time imagining what my future biopic would say about the place I grew up in. Maybe I'm saying I want to be surrounded by greatness, that I want greatness to be expected and applauded in all forms wherever it comes from. Maybe I'm just saying that as I realize my own limitations I look to whatever I can to cast my blame.
I am great. But I'm not English great.
I've tried to write about this before but I don't think I ever did so successfully, so if this is a repeated idea, I apologize.I love England for it's greatness. And by England, I mean Great Britain. Don't get me wrong, I'm proud to be an American, where at least I know I'm free. But I think if I were English I'd also be free, and I'd have a good chance of being great. I don't know any statistics, but just think about all the British people. The Beatles, Harry Potter, James Bond, the Rolling Stones, The Lord of the Rings guy, Clive Owen, umm... Sir Francis Drake... that's not too mention the English language and the English system of government and maybe some other stuff. I mean the English are great!
I think England's greatness stems from its size. The entire country is about twice the size of my state, or commonwealth, Virginia, albeit it much more populated. If you're English, you're English, whereas if you live in Virginia, you're American. I feel like there is a responsibility to be great if you're English; you have to represent, whereas for me, if I'm not great, I'm sure one of the other 300,000,000 will be. I know they're out there, I watch American Idol.
Furthermore, I just read that Raphael, the artist not the mutant turtle, was born in this tiny town called Urbino, which Wikipedia says is "small but artistically significant." For some reason it makes me want to be an Urbino-eer, Urbino-ite, Urbinese. I want to be from somewhere important and loved. I want to be important and loved.
I'm from Roswell, GA, which was a great place to grow up, but I don't really have a sense of pride about it. I have a hard time imagining what my future biopic would say about the place I grew up in. Maybe I'm saying I want to be surrounded by greatness, that I want greatness to be expected and applauded in all forms wherever it comes from. Maybe I'm just saying that as I realize my own limitations I look to whatever I can to cast my blame.
I am great. But I'm not English great.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
My Greatness
As I've mentioned I do have an under-used notebook that is, for the most part, filled with a bunch of gibberish. I'm not sure if it's a journal or a diary as I write in it so little, but the over-riding sentiment throughout it is that of my greatness.
USA Today recently had an article about how the current generation of twenty-somethings is a drifting generation that has yet to settle on a lifetime goal or aspiration. The article I believe focused on how upsetting this is to parents, who just want their kids to be happy, but that part wasn't very interesting. As a member of that generation, and with a destiny of greatness, I feel like I should have something to say about this... let's see if I do.
...hmmm... well, when I was a kid I told my folks I wanted to be King of North Carolina. My parents encouraged this.
I guess I should say first that I am newly married and have started saving with the intention of buying a home, one day. However, my lifetime goals? I still have it in my head that one day I'll be a United States Senator, that I'll write the Great American Novel, that one day I'll be a beekeeper or at least own bees, that I will commission a giant skyscraper to be named The Tower of Duffy, that I will further popularize mass transit and be viewed as a savior for my efforts, that I will start my own business of selling bonsais, that I'll be a household name, not unlike Lance Armstrong or Jesse Jackson, that I will buy an entire street of run-down houses and turn them all into prize-winning homes with prize-winning rose gardens, that I'll win a prize, maybe the X-Prize for my extensive work on the human genome, that I will own a major sports team, that I will travel the world, learning seven languages in the process and finding beauty wherever beauty is to be found, AND that I will do all of this before I turn thirty... better make that thirty-five.
Anyways, while I'll admit that I have my work cut out for me, I'd hardly label myself a drifter. I'm more of a dreamer. I dream of my own greatness. I want to be great but am well aware of the reality and I would be happier unknown in a quiet place than in the spotlight. As I wrote once in my notebook, it's not that I have delusions of grandeur, it's that I have delusions of delusions. And who knows, maybe my parent's should be worried about that.
USA Today recently had an article about how the current generation of twenty-somethings is a drifting generation that has yet to settle on a lifetime goal or aspiration. The article I believe focused on how upsetting this is to parents, who just want their kids to be happy, but that part wasn't very interesting. As a member of that generation, and with a destiny of greatness, I feel like I should have something to say about this... let's see if I do.
...hmmm... well, when I was a kid I told my folks I wanted to be King of North Carolina. My parents encouraged this.
I guess I should say first that I am newly married and have started saving with the intention of buying a home, one day. However, my lifetime goals? I still have it in my head that one day I'll be a United States Senator, that I'll write the Great American Novel, that one day I'll be a beekeeper or at least own bees, that I will commission a giant skyscraper to be named The Tower of Duffy, that I will further popularize mass transit and be viewed as a savior for my efforts, that I will start my own business of selling bonsais, that I'll be a household name, not unlike Lance Armstrong or Jesse Jackson, that I will buy an entire street of run-down houses and turn them all into prize-winning homes with prize-winning rose gardens, that I'll win a prize, maybe the X-Prize for my extensive work on the human genome, that I will own a major sports team, that I will travel the world, learning seven languages in the process and finding beauty wherever beauty is to be found, AND that I will do all of this before I turn thirty... better make that thirty-five.
Anyways, while I'll admit that I have my work cut out for me, I'd hardly label myself a drifter. I'm more of a dreamer. I dream of my own greatness. I want to be great but am well aware of the reality and I would be happier unknown in a quiet place than in the spotlight. As I wrote once in my notebook, it's not that I have delusions of grandeur, it's that I have delusions of delusions. And who knows, maybe my parent's should be worried about that.
I'm an NCAA Loser
Just a quick update: after the first two rounds of March Madness, my bracket is completely busted and I don't stand a chance. With so many upsets this year, I would be surprised if anyone will win the $5 million prize from Yahoo to someone who gets them all right.
Oh well, bring on the baseball season... and soccer.
Oh well, bring on the baseball season... and soccer.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
NCAA Bracket
Okay, so Tiff is gearing up for the big dance and started a Tournament Pick 'Em group if anybody wants to sign up. I think you might need a yahoo email account, but otherwise it's free. And, if you get the picks all right you have the chance to win 5 million dollars. It's a small chance, but it's cheaper than playing the lottery. While I haven't paid any attention this year to who's who, I'll be rooting for Clemson, who lost in the one game I did watch this year, the ACC Championship.
The Madness of Sports
It's March and I am not happy. Believe it or not it has been March for awhile now, but the Madness that comes with March is just about to arrive. That's right the NCAA Tournament is gearing up and looks to be as exciting as always.
I'm not happy because I have unofficially sworn off basketball and this time of year it is hard not to follow along with the festivities. I am prepared to give up baseball as well. For baseball, the departure of Andruw Jones from the Atlanta Braves sealed its fate in my eyes, but I am also determined to get into soccer this year and I didn't want conflicting sports. I also believe soccer to be the next great sport in the US.
My home team is DC United. They are undoubtedly one of the best in MLS, and with a little luck, hopefully they can prove it this year. They've started out right, advancing yesterday to the semis of a pre-season tournament.
It is admittedly hard to get into soccer though, mainly because of the lack of media coverage. One game a week on ESPN2 is about all you get. For this reason too, it's hard to avoid baseball and basketball without giving up on all sports. Baseball's season hasn't even begun and already they've captured many of the headlines. The games aren't even that exciting, and last season I followed along mainly by reading about the games, and if there were any great plays mentioned I'd look to see if they made it onto YouTube. Basketball is a little easier to avoid for me for whatever reason, but this March Madness thing is everywhere.
Basketball has it's advantages though as it's the only sport that Tiffany will sit and watch with me for an extended amount of time. And without any questions too! What I'm getting at here is that they are exciting to watch. Most sports are. That's why most people watch them. That's why there are entire channels devoted to them. So why not enjoy them. Why not join the madness that is March Madness and root for the underdog.
I'm not happy because I have unofficially sworn off basketball and this time of year it is hard not to follow along with the festivities. I am prepared to give up baseball as well. For baseball, the departure of Andruw Jones from the Atlanta Braves sealed its fate in my eyes, but I am also determined to get into soccer this year and I didn't want conflicting sports. I also believe soccer to be the next great sport in the US.
My home team is DC United. They are undoubtedly one of the best in MLS, and with a little luck, hopefully they can prove it this year. They've started out right, advancing yesterday to the semis of a pre-season tournament.
It is admittedly hard to get into soccer though, mainly because of the lack of media coverage. One game a week on ESPN2 is about all you get. For this reason too, it's hard to avoid baseball and basketball without giving up on all sports. Baseball's season hasn't even begun and already they've captured many of the headlines. The games aren't even that exciting, and last season I followed along mainly by reading about the games, and if there were any great plays mentioned I'd look to see if they made it onto YouTube. Basketball is a little easier to avoid for me for whatever reason, but this March Madness thing is everywhere.
Basketball has it's advantages though as it's the only sport that Tiffany will sit and watch with me for an extended amount of time. And without any questions too! What I'm getting at here is that they are exciting to watch. Most sports are. That's why most people watch them. That's why there are entire channels devoted to them. So why not enjoy them. Why not join the madness that is March Madness and root for the underdog.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Bees!
Bees are dying off. It's a fact. There aren't nearly as many bees around today as there was just a few years ago. It seems like everyone is so caught up with the fate of polar bears, that this whole bee issue has gotten a bum deal. "Everyone" being anyone who cares about that sort of save the world stuff, of which I proudly stand.
Don't get me wrong, the polar bear thing raises huge concerns and we, as a society, should be worried about the big furry beasts. However, I believe the decline of the tiny buzzing beasts is much more concerning. Plus, with polar bears, we know what's happening. For whatever reason, the ice caps are melting, which is problematic for these bears. With bees though, there's no reason for the die-off. There isn't even a good guess, or at least not a frontrunner. My guess is it has to do something with the all the meds in the water... or MTV.
While bees can be seen as a frightening nuisance - a dead one has rested in peace in the back of my car for over a year now in part because I don't want to get stung by it - they are an important part of agriculture. They help flowers bloom, apples grow, and let's not forget their sweet, sweet pee... I mean, honey. When you get right down to it, they are pretty miraculous little animals, bees are.
Anyways, all this bee-talk is to lead up to a news story about a flatbed truck that flipped over in California. It was carrying some 30,000 bees, which if I'm doing the math right, translates into a whole bunch of bee stings during the clean-up. Luckily, "several beekeepers driving by the accident stopped to assist in the bee wrangling." It's good to hear that the beekeeper population hasn't taken a hit. I mean if several beekeepers are just passing by this turned over truck and stop to help out, I have to wonder just how many beekeepers are there in California?
Also in severe decline in recent years is the bat population, which are just ugly animals all around, so they're not quite as important.
Don't get me wrong, the polar bear thing raises huge concerns and we, as a society, should be worried about the big furry beasts. However, I believe the decline of the tiny buzzing beasts is much more concerning. Plus, with polar bears, we know what's happening. For whatever reason, the ice caps are melting, which is problematic for these bears. With bees though, there's no reason for the die-off. There isn't even a good guess, or at least not a frontrunner. My guess is it has to do something with the all the meds in the water... or MTV.
While bees can be seen as a frightening nuisance - a dead one has rested in peace in the back of my car for over a year now in part because I don't want to get stung by it - they are an important part of agriculture. They help flowers bloom, apples grow, and let's not forget their sweet, sweet pee... I mean, honey. When you get right down to it, they are pretty miraculous little animals, bees are.
Anyways, all this bee-talk is to lead up to a news story about a flatbed truck that flipped over in California. It was carrying some 30,000 bees, which if I'm doing the math right, translates into a whole bunch of bee stings during the clean-up. Luckily, "several beekeepers driving by the accident stopped to assist in the bee wrangling." It's good to hear that the beekeeper population hasn't taken a hit. I mean if several beekeepers are just passing by this turned over truck and stop to help out, I have to wonder just how many beekeepers are there in California?
Also in severe decline in recent years is the bat population, which are just ugly animals all around, so they're not quite as important.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Sanbai Kaeshi
Happy White Day, everybody. Is it wrong that I feel politically incorrect saying that?
White Day is a Japanese holiday celebrated one month after Valentine's Day where women generally give candy to men. The idea behind it is that you give back thrice the value of what you got. In Japanese this is called sanbai kaeshi, or "thrice the return", which like all Japanese terms, I have fun saying. This year, according to sanbai kaeshi and thanks to the savings challenge, I won't expect too much.
For some reason though, women are suppose to be wearing white today, two months before Memorial Day... the horror! On a side note, white is also the color adorned by those who have completed the Shikoku pilgrimage, which admittedly I want to do in part because I want to be able to use the word Shikoku in normal conversation.
In America, while white is not part of the deal, I have heard of a similar celebration of sorts with a much cruder name. If the creators of this holiday weren't quite so blunt with their name giving, it might have actually caught on.
By the way, it seems strange to me that Japan celebrates St. Valentine's Day. I guess Japan falls victim to crazy marketers just as much as the US does... I'm expecting to see Mother's Day decorations at Wal-Mart any day now.
White Day is a Japanese holiday celebrated one month after Valentine's Day where women generally give candy to men. The idea behind it is that you give back thrice the value of what you got. In Japanese this is called sanbai kaeshi, or "thrice the return", which like all Japanese terms, I have fun saying. This year, according to sanbai kaeshi and thanks to the savings challenge, I won't expect too much.
For some reason though, women are suppose to be wearing white today, two months before Memorial Day... the horror! On a side note, white is also the color adorned by those who have completed the Shikoku pilgrimage, which admittedly I want to do in part because I want to be able to use the word Shikoku in normal conversation.
In America, while white is not part of the deal, I have heard of a similar celebration of sorts with a much cruder name. If the creators of this holiday weren't quite so blunt with their name giving, it might have actually caught on.
By the way, it seems strange to me that Japan celebrates St. Valentine's Day. I guess Japan falls victim to crazy marketers just as much as the US does... I'm expecting to see Mother's Day decorations at Wal-Mart any day now.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Captivate and Inspire
Along the same lines as the previous post: (this is old news by now)
I love seeing movies in the movie theater; nothing beats a great movie theater experience. Recently, Tiff and I saw Juno, which was great, and the movie we saw before that was Transformers. It's been kind of a slow year for movies. Nothing really looks good to me anymore.
Anyways, the Oscars happened. Juno won one. Another movie I like a lot - I didn't hear about it until it was pretty much out of the theaters - is Once, which also won one, for best original song. It's a good category for it to win as it's about singer-songwriters and stars singer-songwriters. Here's the song, one of several great ones from the movie:
The old news is the story of Marketa Irglova, one of the two winners for Once, who was brought back on stage to give her speech. Turned out to be a pretty good one as acceptance speeches go:
"Hi everyone. I just want to thank you so much. This is such a big deal, not only for us, but for all other independent musicians and artists that spend most of their time struggling, and this, the fact that we're standing here tonight, the fact that we're able to hold this, it's just to prove no matter how far out your dreams are, it's possible. And, you know, fair play to those who dare to dream and don't give up. And this song was written from a perspective of hope, and hope at the end of the day connects us all, no matter how different we are. And so thank you so much, who helped us along way. Thank you."
How the story relates to the previous post is that I, however, really, really like the closing words of the other winner, Glen Hansard, who spoke before the music ushered them off prematurely.
"This is amazing. Make art. Make art. Thanks."
Make art. Captivate and inspire.
I love seeing movies in the movie theater; nothing beats a great movie theater experience. Recently, Tiff and I saw Juno, which was great, and the movie we saw before that was Transformers. It's been kind of a slow year for movies. Nothing really looks good to me anymore.
Anyways, the Oscars happened. Juno won one. Another movie I like a lot - I didn't hear about it until it was pretty much out of the theaters - is Once, which also won one, for best original song. It's a good category for it to win as it's about singer-songwriters and stars singer-songwriters. Here's the song, one of several great ones from the movie:
The old news is the story of Marketa Irglova, one of the two winners for Once, who was brought back on stage to give her speech. Turned out to be a pretty good one as acceptance speeches go:
"Hi everyone. I just want to thank you so much. This is such a big deal, not only for us, but for all other independent musicians and artists that spend most of their time struggling, and this, the fact that we're standing here tonight, the fact that we're able to hold this, it's just to prove no matter how far out your dreams are, it's possible. And, you know, fair play to those who dare to dream and don't give up. And this song was written from a perspective of hope, and hope at the end of the day connects us all, no matter how different we are. And so thank you so much, who helped us along way. Thank you."
How the story relates to the previous post is that I, however, really, really like the closing words of the other winner, Glen Hansard, who spoke before the music ushered them off prematurely.
"This is amazing. Make art. Make art. Thanks."
Make art. Captivate and inspire.
Art Museum
Last weekend, waiting for the U2 movie showtime, I went to the Hirshhorn sculpture museum. A great part about DC is that most of the museums are free and therefore, it makes sense to visit them this way, almost as a time filler.
I've been to the Hirshhorn museum a few times. It's permanent exhibits aren't all too exciting, but the section that changes every few months is definitely cool. Right now, they have a collection about dreams all done with film. It's pretty crazy, as most of it is not too exciting, but two or three pieces were incredibly interesting.
I was afraid that the doll hanging on the wall with some maniacal guy's face projected onto it would give me bad dreams - it didn't - and I wish I could revisit the lights in the cloudy room. The one that I keep thinking about, however, was a movie of a typewriter in the snow. There was no sound, no real action, just a typewriter slowly getting covered in snow. I have no idea what it means, but I like it.
(This is the cloudy room with the light. In writing a post about art I feel I needed pictures. This is the only picture I could find on the internet from the exhibit.)
I'll admit that I don't really understand art. I don't know what separates good art from bad art or if there even is bad art. It has something to do with emotions and beauty and meaning, but in the end, it seems it just needs to captivate and inspire, something U2 did easily.
After the Hirshhorn, we went to the Natural History Museum where we saw a nature photography exhibit. Pretty amazing pictures, each and every one of them. My favorite, the one that captivated and inspired me, was of a rowboat in the fog. It was taken by a thirteen year-old.
(Again, I couldn't find the one I'm talking about. I must not be a very good blogger. I like this one though. It's somehow patriotic. Here are some others.)
I've been to the Hirshhorn museum a few times. It's permanent exhibits aren't all too exciting, but the section that changes every few months is definitely cool. Right now, they have a collection about dreams all done with film. It's pretty crazy, as most of it is not too exciting, but two or three pieces were incredibly interesting.
I was afraid that the doll hanging on the wall with some maniacal guy's face projected onto it would give me bad dreams - it didn't - and I wish I could revisit the lights in the cloudy room. The one that I keep thinking about, however, was a movie of a typewriter in the snow. There was no sound, no real action, just a typewriter slowly getting covered in snow. I have no idea what it means, but I like it.
(This is the cloudy room with the light. In writing a post about art I feel I needed pictures. This is the only picture I could find on the internet from the exhibit.)I'll admit that I don't really understand art. I don't know what separates good art from bad art or if there even is bad art. It has something to do with emotions and beauty and meaning, but in the end, it seems it just needs to captivate and inspire, something U2 did easily.
After the Hirshhorn, we went to the Natural History Museum where we saw a nature photography exhibit. Pretty amazing pictures, each and every one of them. My favorite, the one that captivated and inspired me, was of a rowboat in the fog. It was taken by a thirteen year-old.
(Again, I couldn't find the one I'm talking about. I must not be a very good blogger. I like this one though. It's somehow patriotic. Here are some others.)
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Starbucks
I own stock in Starbucks, a little more than 1.9 shares. I bought it a while ago, after seeing, the Starbucks produced, Akeelah and the Bee on opening night and joining in on the only standing ovation I've ever seen at a movie theater. Different cultures are so cool.
Then I started thinking about what I already knew about Starbucks. They have high-priced coffee that is good enough to turn me on to coffee, which I never thought possible. Their everywhere and always have people in them at all hours of the day. And they originated in Seattle, which I've wanted to go to ever since the Real World Seattle, about ten years ago, because it looks cool in a rainy day kinda way and, for no apparent reason, reminds me of this great song, "White Daisies Passing" by this guy from Seattle named Rocky Votolato.
So, when I found out soon there after that they treat their employees decently and the high prices in part allow them to offer benefits to their employees, I decided "what the hay, why not?" and put $64 into the company. My "investment" is now worth about $37. You win some, you lose some.
Anyways, all that is just so I can mention the interesting move the company is making today. They are closing the doors to all their stores today for three and a half hours, 5:30 to 9 this evening, in order to train their baristas how to make the perfect espresso. While the - umm - muted guerrilla in me wishes they were doing it for some grand cause, like closing their doors to raise awareness for - I don't know - freeing Tibet or something, I have to applaud them on this. It's always important to make sure you are doing something right, even if it takes a little longer, or costs a small fortune in sales.
Then I started thinking about what I already knew about Starbucks. They have high-priced coffee that is good enough to turn me on to coffee, which I never thought possible. Their everywhere and always have people in them at all hours of the day. And they originated in Seattle, which I've wanted to go to ever since the Real World Seattle, about ten years ago, because it looks cool in a rainy day kinda way and, for no apparent reason, reminds me of this great song, "White Daisies Passing" by this guy from Seattle named Rocky Votolato.
So, when I found out soon there after that they treat their employees decently and the high prices in part allow them to offer benefits to their employees, I decided "what the hay, why not?" and put $64 into the company. My "investment" is now worth about $37. You win some, you lose some.
Anyways, all that is just so I can mention the interesting move the company is making today. They are closing the doors to all their stores today for three and a half hours, 5:30 to 9 this evening, in order to train their baristas how to make the perfect espresso. While the - umm - muted guerrilla in me wishes they were doing it for some grand cause, like closing their doors to raise awareness for - I don't know - freeing Tibet or something, I have to applaud them on this. It's always important to make sure you are doing something right, even if it takes a little longer, or costs a small fortune in sales.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
U2 in 3D
I went into DC to see U23D last night at the Natural History Museum. It was amazing. Absolutely amazing. While I enjoy the music of U2, I would not say that I'm a huge fan. This show is insanely good though, and I would highly recommend anyone and everyone to go see it. Plus, it's in 3D! How cool is that!
Tiff's been to a real-life U2 concert, which she says was the greatest show she's ever been to. For someone with my limited concert-going experience to say that would be meaningless, but Tiff has seen them all... The Rolling Stones, Fleetwood Mac, Cinderella and Poison, and I have to include Slash. Anyways, she also says the movie experience, while nowhere near the same, is still nothing short of genius.
After the show, we were debating if any other band could pull it off. I don't think any other band is good enough to have an entire movie of their concert for the movie going experience, except of course, Hannah Montana. Maybe I'm just a bit U2 intoxicated right now, but every song they have is so meaningful to so many people and so powerful in every way, shape, and form that their concert is unrivaled. The crowd can carry the lyrics throughout the entire show, not just one or two songs and without sounding all garbled together, but then Bono sings and you just feel it. It's hard to explain. Go see the movie.
Another great part is that it's in 3D. This is the first time since I was a wee little lad that I got to wear 3D glasses for something. While at first it was a little strange, it made for a completely different experience, and I definitely will be checking out some more 3D shows in the future. It's a couple extra bucks plus the cost of getting into the city, but it makes for more of an experience and is worth every penny.
Tiff's been to a real-life U2 concert, which she says was the greatest show she's ever been to. For someone with my limited concert-going experience to say that would be meaningless, but Tiff has seen them all... The Rolling Stones, Fleetwood Mac, Cinderella and Poison, and I have to include Slash. Anyways, she also says the movie experience, while nowhere near the same, is still nothing short of genius.
After the show, we were debating if any other band could pull it off. I don't think any other band is good enough to have an entire movie of their concert for the movie going experience, except of course, Hannah Montana. Maybe I'm just a bit U2 intoxicated right now, but every song they have is so meaningful to so many people and so powerful in every way, shape, and form that their concert is unrivaled. The crowd can carry the lyrics throughout the entire show, not just one or two songs and without sounding all garbled together, but then Bono sings and you just feel it. It's hard to explain. Go see the movie.
Another great part is that it's in 3D. This is the first time since I was a wee little lad that I got to wear 3D glasses for something. While at first it was a little strange, it made for a completely different experience, and I definitely will be checking out some more 3D shows in the future. It's a couple extra bucks plus the cost of getting into the city, but it makes for more of an experience and is worth every penny.
Friday, February 22, 2008
Idolizing Nobodies
A few weeks ago, I mentioned that I would not be watching American Idol this year. Well, I have a confession to make. I've watched it the past two weeks. It's a sad, sad truth, but they got me when I heard that the contestants could play instruments. Plus, it was the Hollywood week which might be my favorite part of the show.
I do have a lot of least favorite parts of the show. I hate the backstories of the people. I hate the banter between the judges and between Ryan Seacrest and the judges. More than that banter I hate the banter between the contestants and the judges, and I wish they had rule that the contestants couldn't talk when they're being judged. I hate half the contestants and of the half I do like, I actually secretly hate half of them. I hate the songs they make them sing and I wish they could sing whatever they wanted. At this point, all the songs that they sing have been sung already. I hate how they torment the contestants and draw out the show for no apparent reason. I basically hate the show.
Yet... I still watch it. I'm a sad, sad man. I should make a list of good things about the show. Hollywood week, which is where the final audition takes place, but that's already done. There's usually one, maybe two, songs every show that are good, really good. Let's see... I like singing in the shower afterwards. That's about it. Oh, I, unfortunately, usually like the ensemble things they do, even though they're usually the worst performances of all; I just like hearing the different voices all together.
Last year's group sucked, so I had said no more this year. Plus, Tiff and I were watching Biggest Loser, which comes on at the same time, and I was getting into it, but then they changed the rules on that so I got mad and cut it out of my list of shows.
Anyways, I do have my favorites. But once they're out, I'm giving up on American Idol, maybe even before then. The thing is though, what else is on? Another CSI? I really need a television sacrifice. Oh! Dexter's on CBS now... it's the first season, everyone should watch it. At least, everyone older than 18 with a sound mind and twisted sense of humor.
I do have a lot of least favorite parts of the show. I hate the backstories of the people. I hate the banter between the judges and between Ryan Seacrest and the judges. More than that banter I hate the banter between the contestants and the judges, and I wish they had rule that the contestants couldn't talk when they're being judged. I hate half the contestants and of the half I do like, I actually secretly hate half of them. I hate the songs they make them sing and I wish they could sing whatever they wanted. At this point, all the songs that they sing have been sung already. I hate how they torment the contestants and draw out the show for no apparent reason. I basically hate the show.
Yet... I still watch it. I'm a sad, sad man. I should make a list of good things about the show. Hollywood week, which is where the final audition takes place, but that's already done. There's usually one, maybe two, songs every show that are good, really good. Let's see... I like singing in the shower afterwards. That's about it. Oh, I, unfortunately, usually like the ensemble things they do, even though they're usually the worst performances of all; I just like hearing the different voices all together.
Last year's group sucked, so I had said no more this year. Plus, Tiff and I were watching Biggest Loser, which comes on at the same time, and I was getting into it, but then they changed the rules on that so I got mad and cut it out of my list of shows.
Anyways, I do have my favorites. But once they're out, I'm giving up on American Idol, maybe even before then. The thing is though, what else is on? Another CSI? I really need a television sacrifice. Oh! Dexter's on CBS now... it's the first season, everyone should watch it. At least, everyone older than 18 with a sound mind and twisted sense of humor.
Saturday, February 16, 2008
More Local News
I live in Manassas, VA. Manassas is building a giant parking garage right off of main street. 
It's a much needed addition to the city, as it has an underused commuter train station and an overused highway exit. The crazy part is though that it's five stories tall. All the buildings in Old Town Manassas are three stories by my count. Maybe I'm just adding them up wrong. Let's hope it goes underground.
I drive past this parking structure construction everyday, so it kinda tickled my noggin and I went looking to learn more about it. So I read the local paper, which was a little interesting, and found a local blog, which is interesting for all the wrong reasons.
The blog is written by a City Councilman, and while it's not a daily read, it's pretty impressive how well he keeps up with it, writing about both political stuff and city stuff. The strange part is, especially coming from an elected official, nowhere on the thing does it say who he is. There is no name. There is no title. I had to read through quite a few posts just to learn he is, in fact, a City Councilman and no, he is not running for Mayor.
Anyways, I'm adding this mystery man's blog to my exclusive list of links, replacing, the much loved but under-appreciated, Mustaches of the Nineteenth Century. If you keep up with it, maybe you can see the completed Manassas Skyline come June of 2008, in all it's parking garage splendor.
It's a much needed addition to the city, as it has an underused commuter train station and an overused highway exit. The crazy part is though that it's five stories tall. All the buildings in Old Town Manassas are three stories by my count. Maybe I'm just adding them up wrong. Let's hope it goes underground.I drive past this parking structure construction everyday, so it kinda tickled my noggin and I went looking to learn more about it. So I read the local paper, which was a little interesting, and found a local blog, which is interesting for all the wrong reasons.
The blog is written by a City Councilman, and while it's not a daily read, it's pretty impressive how well he keeps up with it, writing about both political stuff and city stuff. The strange part is, especially coming from an elected official, nowhere on the thing does it say who he is. There is no name. There is no title. I had to read through quite a few posts just to learn he is, in fact, a City Councilman and no, he is not running for Mayor.
Anyways, I'm adding this mystery man's blog to my exclusive list of links, replacing, the much loved but under-appreciated, Mustaches of the Nineteenth Century. If you keep up with it, maybe you can see the completed Manassas Skyline come June of 2008, in all it's parking garage splendor.
Middle School Banking
Going against my usual grain here... This year marks my 10 year high school graduation. I could say I'm getting old, but to be honest, the further away I get from some of those memories the better. Now, next year being ten years since I started college... that's a depressing thought.
I bring it up just to say that it's been awhile since I was in school, let alone middle school, and while I'm sure there have been a lot of necessary and beneficial changes to the schooling environment, I was surprised when I found this in my local paper under the "winners" section:
"Synergy One Federal Credit Union and Gainesville Middle School, which will jointly sponsor a new banking branch at the school with the official opening at 1 p.m. on Tuesday. This is the second middle school branch Synergy One has opened in the last two years and the first in the Gainesville area."
Winner! If I try really hard I could see some reasoning behind putting a bank in a middle school... help teach the kids about the importance of savings or something, but it seems like a pretty big stretch to me. Plus, from the bank's perspective's, who's it attracting? Middle schoolers? New teachers? I'm guessing old teachers already have a bank, as well as parents of middle schoolers. It just doesn't seem to make any sense.
But hey, I don't know much about schools these days, maybe it's all the rage. Maybe it's hip. Maybe it's happening.
I bring it up just to say that it's been awhile since I was in school, let alone middle school, and while I'm sure there have been a lot of necessary and beneficial changes to the schooling environment, I was surprised when I found this in my local paper under the "winners" section:
"Synergy One Federal Credit Union and Gainesville Middle School, which will jointly sponsor a new banking branch at the school with the official opening at 1 p.m. on Tuesday. This is the second middle school branch Synergy One has opened in the last two years and the first in the Gainesville area."
Winner! If I try really hard I could see some reasoning behind putting a bank in a middle school... help teach the kids about the importance of savings or something, but it seems like a pretty big stretch to me. Plus, from the bank's perspective's, who's it attracting? Middle schoolers? New teachers? I'm guessing old teachers already have a bank, as well as parents of middle schoolers. It just doesn't seem to make any sense.
But hey, I don't know much about schools these days, maybe it's all the rage. Maybe it's hip. Maybe it's happening.
Friday, February 15, 2008
My Valentine's Feast
Last year, Tiffany unleashed the greatest Valentine's of all time. This year the onus was on me to, as Bon Jovi says, make a memory. While I stepped up to the plate, ready for the challenge, my home run swing at making the best Valentine's ever fell far short. I could write a thousand li-i-i-i-ines, about what went wrong, but the bottom line is cooking easy is easy, cooking hard is not easy.
With the savings challenge in mind, I vowed to cook something myself for my beautiful wife, who cooks for me almost all the time. Normally, we would be heading to a fancier restaurant than normal and maybe order a bottle of wine. Not going out to eat has been a successful part of our sacrifice, with some new and strange meals. Wednesday night Tiff threw all these odds and ends into the crockpot, the main ingredient being lentils. Both of us looked at it with sour faces as we were dishing it out, but by golly, it was good. It was really good.
So I knew we weren't going anywhere, so I had to make something nice. Tiff likes shrimp and shrimp sounds nice and expensive to me, so I set out to cook shrimp for Tiffany on Valentine's. I think this was my first mistake as I've never cooked shrimp, or any other type of seafood before and has no idea how to go about it. I searched the internet where I found a recipe that looked a little complicated but interesting enough to try.
The morning of I went to the store for ingredients. I bought shrimp, mozzarella cheese, roasted red peppers, pasta, sauce, ice cream, strawberries, and flowers. The recipe also called for prosciutto and pano bread crumbs. In my head, honey baked ham and a loaf of bread would make suitable substitutes. Hindsight is 20/20.
Tiff was determined to snoop when I got home and I ended up ruining, freely and willingly, the surprise of what was for dinner. She questioned it and had a good chuckle at my expense before I ever got started cooking. This kind of irritated me as I was both excited and mainly nervous about my attempts at cooking something new.
Long story short, once I started cooking I new I was in over my head and immediately scrapped my Shrimp Nicholas recipe of wrapped butterflied shrimp, choosing instead to make a mish-mash of flavors to cook the shrimp in. Then I just threw it romanticly over basic pasta, with essentially a jar of red pasta sauce. Mmmm.
Tiff, always the good sport, said she liked it, but she pushed the second half to the side in favor of a salad, and now, hours after the fact, all I can taste is garlic. At least, the flowers look good,
but I think I still have a few years of Valentine's Days to catch up with her.
And tonight, I think both of us are very much looking forward to some leftover lentil soup. Happy Valentine's Day.
With the savings challenge in mind, I vowed to cook something myself for my beautiful wife, who cooks for me almost all the time. Normally, we would be heading to a fancier restaurant than normal and maybe order a bottle of wine. Not going out to eat has been a successful part of our sacrifice, with some new and strange meals. Wednesday night Tiff threw all these odds and ends into the crockpot, the main ingredient being lentils. Both of us looked at it with sour faces as we were dishing it out, but by golly, it was good. It was really good.
So I knew we weren't going anywhere, so I had to make something nice. Tiff likes shrimp and shrimp sounds nice and expensive to me, so I set out to cook shrimp for Tiffany on Valentine's. I think this was my first mistake as I've never cooked shrimp, or any other type of seafood before and has no idea how to go about it. I searched the internet where I found a recipe that looked a little complicated but interesting enough to try.
The morning of I went to the store for ingredients. I bought shrimp, mozzarella cheese, roasted red peppers, pasta, sauce, ice cream, strawberries, and flowers. The recipe also called for prosciutto and pano bread crumbs. In my head, honey baked ham and a loaf of bread would make suitable substitutes. Hindsight is 20/20.
Tiff was determined to snoop when I got home and I ended up ruining, freely and willingly, the surprise of what was for dinner. She questioned it and had a good chuckle at my expense before I ever got started cooking. This kind of irritated me as I was both excited and mainly nervous about my attempts at cooking something new.
Long story short, once I started cooking I new I was in over my head and immediately scrapped my Shrimp Nicholas recipe of wrapped butterflied shrimp, choosing instead to make a mish-mash of flavors to cook the shrimp in. Then I just threw it romanticly over basic pasta, with essentially a jar of red pasta sauce. Mmmm.
Tiff, always the good sport, said she liked it, but she pushed the second half to the side in favor of a salad, and now, hours after the fact, all I can taste is garlic. At least, the flowers look good,
but I think I still have a few years of Valentine's Days to catch up with her.And tonight, I think both of us are very much looking forward to some leftover lentil soup. Happy Valentine's Day.
Monday, February 11, 2008
Another Steroids Story
I'm down to two pills of steroids a day, which means I only have four and a half more weeks to go! At the allergist that awful day, Tiff and I were in the waiting room waiting to make sure my meds were working. The receptionist started up a small conversation with Tiff.
Receptionist: They put me on a long course of steroids once.
Tiffany: Oh yeah?
R: Yeah, it really gives you quite the appetite.
T: Oh?
R: Yeah, I remember being in the store and seeing packaged liver and thinking I had to eat it, right there. I've never liked liver before, but I wanted to eat it raw, right off the shelf.
T: Eww.
R: Yeah, watch out. He'll be hungry... and extremely irritable.
T: Well then, I better shut up and start cooking.
I love my wife. While I have yet to come across liver or any inkling of a liver craving, I have been eating like a madman. It's strange too. I'll eat until my belly is full - I'll be very aware that my belly is full - and still, I'm searching the kitchen for more food. I'm full but very hungry at the same time. Part of me just thinks this is all in my head and I eat constantly because I've finally been given a free pass to do so.
My liver story is actually much less disturbing.
Bananas are a food that I don't ever remember enjoying. When Tiff put four pounds of them in the cart last week at CostCo, I only accepted it after learning the four pounds cost $1.29. A couple days later, I was looking through the dusty parts of our cupboards in search of food, when like a beacon from across the room all those beautiful bananas caught my eye. I struggled a bit getting the first one open as it was still a bit green, but good god was it good.
Tiff has since then cut me back to one banana at a time. There are three left... make that two.
Receptionist: They put me on a long course of steroids once.
Tiffany: Oh yeah?
R: Yeah, it really gives you quite the appetite.
T: Oh?
R: Yeah, I remember being in the store and seeing packaged liver and thinking I had to eat it, right there. I've never liked liver before, but I wanted to eat it raw, right off the shelf.
T: Eww.
R: Yeah, watch out. He'll be hungry... and extremely irritable.
T: Well then, I better shut up and start cooking.
I love my wife. While I have yet to come across liver or any inkling of a liver craving, I have been eating like a madman. It's strange too. I'll eat until my belly is full - I'll be very aware that my belly is full - and still, I'm searching the kitchen for more food. I'm full but very hungry at the same time. Part of me just thinks this is all in my head and I eat constantly because I've finally been given a free pass to do so.
My liver story is actually much less disturbing.
Bananas are a food that I don't ever remember enjoying. When Tiff put four pounds of them in the cart last week at CostCo, I only accepted it after learning the four pounds cost $1.29. A couple days later, I was looking through the dusty parts of our cupboards in search of food, when like a beacon from across the room all those beautiful bananas caught my eye. I struggled a bit getting the first one open as it was still a bit green, but good god was it good.Tiff has since then cut me back to one banana at a time. There are three left... make that two.
Thursday, February 07, 2008
The Medicinal Moon
My list of places I would like to go has slowed it's growth considerably recently. It was easy for a long time to find new and interesting places to go. I would either stumble upon a cool picture or hear of something interesting and hope that Wikipedia has a picture of it.
Everything changed when, just before Christmas, I heard of the Interstellar Light Collector.
It captures the power of lunar light and focuses it at you in some sort of weird therapeutic procedure. It was the first place on my list that was less "wouldn't it be cool if..." and more "I need to do this before I die." And well, since then nowhere seems as cool.
Before you label me a freak, I freely admit that I'm open to some of the eccentrics of alternative medicine. Perhaps it's a holistic approach, but that sounds too Birkenstock. I would, however, love to try acupuncture and maybe a hot stone massage to unblock my chi, or whatever. Just last month, I bought a jar of lavender scent with sticks sticking fashionably out of it, because I heard it might help me sleep. It's right next to my bed.
My sister, hi, Becky!, gave me the idea. She heard about it from the Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbook game. The verdict is still out as to how effective it is.
But this giant moonlight mirror is so different than anything I thought reasonable that it has captured my imagination and six weeks after learning of it, I'm still thinking about it. Check out the testimonials. Just about everyone says something along the lines of feeling relaxed, energized and all-over good, but then there are these lines, "toothache gone within hours," "my appendix scar faded as well as some other old scars" by morning, "arthritis and tinnitus are greatly reduced," and - hold the phone - "after a 3rd moonlight experience, my asthma seems to be gone." Moonlight it seems works miracles. If only moonlighting worked the same way, as I work overnights.
If anything, I think it's definitely worth seeing what happens under the intense moonlight. I predict that it will prevent the brain tumor that will surely kill me in my old age, thus I will live forever. Then maybe I'll get to actually visit the other places on my list of places that I want to go.
Everything changed when, just before Christmas, I heard of the Interstellar Light Collector.
It captures the power of lunar light and focuses it at you in some sort of weird therapeutic procedure. It was the first place on my list that was less "wouldn't it be cool if..." and more "I need to do this before I die." And well, since then nowhere seems as cool.Before you label me a freak, I freely admit that I'm open to some of the eccentrics of alternative medicine. Perhaps it's a holistic approach, but that sounds too Birkenstock. I would, however, love to try acupuncture and maybe a hot stone massage to unblock my chi, or whatever. Just last month, I bought a jar of lavender scent with sticks sticking fashionably out of it, because I heard it might help me sleep. It's right next to my bed.
My sister, hi, Becky!, gave me the idea. She heard about it from the Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbook game. The verdict is still out as to how effective it is.But this giant moonlight mirror is so different than anything I thought reasonable that it has captured my imagination and six weeks after learning of it, I'm still thinking about it. Check out the testimonials. Just about everyone says something along the lines of feeling relaxed, energized and all-over good, but then there are these lines, "toothache gone within hours," "my appendix scar faded as well as some other old scars" by morning, "arthritis and tinnitus are greatly reduced," and - hold the phone - "after a 3rd moonlight experience, my asthma seems to be gone." Moonlight it seems works miracles. If only moonlighting worked the same way, as I work overnights.
If anything, I think it's definitely worth seeing what happens under the intense moonlight. I predict that it will prevent the brain tumor that will surely kill me in my old age, thus I will live forever. Then maybe I'll get to actually visit the other places on my list of places that I want to go.
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
Upgrades
Something strange has been happening to me lately. I have been trying to improve things, recently, things I'm not suppose to improve. I can't seem to stop myself.
Let me back up and make clear that I have not taken any proactive steps to improve anything... well, maybe myself, but that's another blog entirely. I'm more of an idea guy. What happens is, I'll be doing something, going about life like it ain't no thing, when right in the middle of the most common, mundane thing I'll have a thought that I can't help but share with the world.
For example, "They should put the parking lot under the Wal-Mart!" I had this thought walking across the Wal-Mart parking lot from my car. I realize that it would never happen, that Wal-Mart has it's own savings challenge, and it would never fork out the extra money to build it's store over the parking lot, but I do think it would make a great improvement... for all stores. It would be like a suburban Big Dig Revolution! There would be so much more space, and I wouldn't have to see an empty parking lot of street lights glowing in my window at night.
Most of the time, my improvements aren't quite so profound. TV commercials are like cannon-fodder to my always-upgrading mind. "What the should have done is ended with the dancing dog." The sad underbelly here is that I'm actually paying close enough attention to critique.
But critique is a harsh word, and I don't think I'm complaining about any of these things that I'm improving. It's more that I'm genuinely hoping to improve them. It's not the flaw that I see, it's the improvement. And aren't we suppose to be trying to improve the world, or at least the world around us. Maybe one of my ideas will catch on and I'll leave my footprint on mankind!
I've had so many of these random improvement thoughts, matched by my obvious delusions of grandeur, that I thought about extending my blog empire with John Duffy's Upgrades, but after some thought, I was afraid it would sound too whiny and ultimately decided that it would not be an improvement to anybody's life... namely mine.
Let me back up and make clear that I have not taken any proactive steps to improve anything... well, maybe myself, but that's another blog entirely. I'm more of an idea guy. What happens is, I'll be doing something, going about life like it ain't no thing, when right in the middle of the most common, mundane thing I'll have a thought that I can't help but share with the world.
For example, "They should put the parking lot under the Wal-Mart!" I had this thought walking across the Wal-Mart parking lot from my car. I realize that it would never happen, that Wal-Mart has it's own savings challenge, and it would never fork out the extra money to build it's store over the parking lot, but I do think it would make a great improvement... for all stores. It would be like a suburban Big Dig Revolution! There would be so much more space, and I wouldn't have to see an empty parking lot of street lights glowing in my window at night.
Most of the time, my improvements aren't quite so profound. TV commercials are like cannon-fodder to my always-upgrading mind. "What the should have done is ended with the dancing dog." The sad underbelly here is that I'm actually paying close enough attention to critique.
But critique is a harsh word, and I don't think I'm complaining about any of these things that I'm improving. It's more that I'm genuinely hoping to improve them. It's not the flaw that I see, it's the improvement. And aren't we suppose to be trying to improve the world, or at least the world around us. Maybe one of my ideas will catch on and I'll leave my footprint on mankind!
I've had so many of these random improvement thoughts, matched by my obvious delusions of grandeur, that I thought about extending my blog empire with John Duffy's Upgrades, but after some thought, I was afraid it would sound too whiny and ultimately decided that it would not be an improvement to anybody's life... namely mine.
Monday, February 04, 2008
...but, who's counting?
I think it's time to draw everyone's attention to the semi-new Scrabble Counter to the right --> See, over there on the sidebar? John and I are now involved in an intense war of daily scrabbling. It's time to draw your attention to it because I am winning right now (also because I think that a slew of brutal losses -before we started keeping a talley- was the underlying cause of John's recent onset of unexplainable hives).
We lead highly exciting lives... Keep an eye on it as we battle it out.
In other exciting news:
Our cat has now learned to sit for treats. John doesn't find this blog-worthy.
We lead highly exciting lives... Keep an eye on it as we battle it out.
In other exciting news:
Our cat has now learned to sit for treats. John doesn't find this blog-worthy.
Sunday, February 03, 2008
Hives are for the Bees
I'm not a fan of long posts, so I apologize in advance.
As I've mentioned, I was on steroids for hives a couple of weeks ago. And as I mentioned, they did a lot for me, but didn't get rid of the hives. I wish that that was the end of the story, but there's more. So last Tuesday, when I stopped taking the steroids, I still had pretty bad hives. Bad enough that I was still taking claritins as much as possible just to stop itching.
Wednesday morning at work, just before I got off, I felt hives coming on pretty strong and without any meds from home, I took what was available at work... two benadryl. I found relief, but I was woozy driving home before I drifted off to sleep in bed. I did not sleep very well, and around four when I woke up, I didn't feel very good. I thought it was just the Benadryl making me feel funny, but then Tiff saw me and said something to the effect of, "Oh my god!" Apparently, my eyes were more or less swollen shut. It didn't surprise me, and I just said my throat feels funny.
We rushed to the hospital as my doctor's office was closed for the day. I was reluctant to go because I wasn't sure it constituted an emergency, but as is becoming the norm, my new wife won out. The ER folks were very nice. They set me up with stronger steroids, stronger anti-histamine's and heartburn medication, which they said acts both to counteract the steroids' side-effects and is an anti-histamine for a different kind of histamine.
I sat there a long time, and as my eye swelling went down and my throat went back to normal, I thought about posting about how boring the ER is compared to what you see on TV. We were there for a few hours, and there were no multiple gunshot victims or seven car pile-ups, no hatchets lodged behind eyes - there wasn't even any one who came in with something minor but it turned out to be an inoperable brain tumor. Just a lot of kids and a lady with a toothache. I would say that my situation definitely was an emergency comparatively. So they declared me healthy and sent me home stocked with more meds, all the while, with me still scratching. - There's so much more though that all that thought just gets a mention.
The next day, Thursday, I called my doctor up for a referral to an allergist. Concerned, she called for me and set up an appointment for that afternoon. Then she sent me to be tested for strept throat. As I'm waiting for the lady with the long Q-Tip - they have their own waiting room for lab work - my throat starts to feel funny. In the brilliance that is me, I wait for my test, then leave the doctor's. As I started wheezing in the car, I had the thought that I should turn back towards the doctor's, or maybe even the hospital, but boldly I continued home.
I told myself that I just needed something to clear it up... Claritin, Benadryl, it didn't matter. But as I got closer, and my wheezing became more audible, I began to worry. It would make sense to worry here but I was worried about the allergist's appointment that afternoon and whether or not it was okay to take anything before the doctor sees me. I make it home, climb the stairs and call the allergist. By this point, I need to take something. My wheezing is audible and uncontrollable and big breaths don't feel like enough. The receptionist notices this and asks if I'm okay. Then she tells me to get there immediately if I can get there. Otherwise, go to the hospital.
Tiff drives me there, twenty minutes in a new direction, which for her is a big deal in and of itself, but when about halfway there, I say through big breaths "Okay, if my throat closes up completely..." and then give the little bit of advice I know from my three hour First Aid class as I'm holding onto expired Benadryl FastMelts.
We make it there, only to get lost in the office park. When we finally walk in, I'm admittedly feeling better. It was like walking onto a movie set though, and I was the big name star. Everybody stopped what they were doing. "Oh you made it!" "Are you okay?" "Come right back, we'll do the paperwork later." Oh man, it was great! Although the first thing they did was take my blood pressure... something that's been happening all too often with all my recent trips to the doctor. That morning it was somewhere around 125 over 80, which was slightly higher than it normally is for me; right then, my blood pressure was 175 over 100. "Are you scared?" asked the nurse.
So in the end, I lived. After about eight hours of my skin feeling like it's crawling or shedding or something very painful, a nice talk with the doctor, a trip to the phlebotomist, back to the allergist for a painful shot in the butt, and back to the pharmacist for the second time in two days, I returned home and took a bath with oatmeal in it - it's supposed to help. I'm on much stronger steroids now for a much longer period, as well as some other meds. And I have to carry around an EpiPen to give myself shots when my life depends on it.
Here are some pictures from that night, after all the meds and after all the swelling went down. My legs are the worse of it but by "legs," I mean where I wear underwear, my thighs mostly, and nobody wants to see that much of me.
Later that night, I finally admitted to Tiff, "Yes, I was scared." I was very, very scared.
As I've mentioned, I was on steroids for hives a couple of weeks ago. And as I mentioned, they did a lot for me, but didn't get rid of the hives. I wish that that was the end of the story, but there's more. So last Tuesday, when I stopped taking the steroids, I still had pretty bad hives. Bad enough that I was still taking claritins as much as possible just to stop itching.
Wednesday morning at work, just before I got off, I felt hives coming on pretty strong and without any meds from home, I took what was available at work... two benadryl. I found relief, but I was woozy driving home before I drifted off to sleep in bed. I did not sleep very well, and around four when I woke up, I didn't feel very good. I thought it was just the Benadryl making me feel funny, but then Tiff saw me and said something to the effect of, "Oh my god!" Apparently, my eyes were more or less swollen shut. It didn't surprise me, and I just said my throat feels funny.
We rushed to the hospital as my doctor's office was closed for the day. I was reluctant to go because I wasn't sure it constituted an emergency, but as is becoming the norm, my new wife won out. The ER folks were very nice. They set me up with stronger steroids, stronger anti-histamine's and heartburn medication, which they said acts both to counteract the steroids' side-effects and is an anti-histamine for a different kind of histamine.
I sat there a long time, and as my eye swelling went down and my throat went back to normal, I thought about posting about how boring the ER is compared to what you see on TV. We were there for a few hours, and there were no multiple gunshot victims or seven car pile-ups, no hatchets lodged behind eyes - there wasn't even any one who came in with something minor but it turned out to be an inoperable brain tumor. Just a lot of kids and a lady with a toothache. I would say that my situation definitely was an emergency comparatively. So they declared me healthy and sent me home stocked with more meds, all the while, with me still scratching. - There's so much more though that all that thought just gets a mention.
The next day, Thursday, I called my doctor up for a referral to an allergist. Concerned, she called for me and set up an appointment for that afternoon. Then she sent me to be tested for strept throat. As I'm waiting for the lady with the long Q-Tip - they have their own waiting room for lab work - my throat starts to feel funny. In the brilliance that is me, I wait for my test, then leave the doctor's. As I started wheezing in the car, I had the thought that I should turn back towards the doctor's, or maybe even the hospital, but boldly I continued home.
I told myself that I just needed something to clear it up... Claritin, Benadryl, it didn't matter. But as I got closer, and my wheezing became more audible, I began to worry. It would make sense to worry here but I was worried about the allergist's appointment that afternoon and whether or not it was okay to take anything before the doctor sees me. I make it home, climb the stairs and call the allergist. By this point, I need to take something. My wheezing is audible and uncontrollable and big breaths don't feel like enough. The receptionist notices this and asks if I'm okay. Then she tells me to get there immediately if I can get there. Otherwise, go to the hospital.
Tiff drives me there, twenty minutes in a new direction, which for her is a big deal in and of itself, but when about halfway there, I say through big breaths "Okay, if my throat closes up completely..." and then give the little bit of advice I know from my three hour First Aid class as I'm holding onto expired Benadryl FastMelts.
We make it there, only to get lost in the office park. When we finally walk in, I'm admittedly feeling better. It was like walking onto a movie set though, and I was the big name star. Everybody stopped what they were doing. "Oh you made it!" "Are you okay?" "Come right back, we'll do the paperwork later." Oh man, it was great! Although the first thing they did was take my blood pressure... something that's been happening all too often with all my recent trips to the doctor. That morning it was somewhere around 125 over 80, which was slightly higher than it normally is for me; right then, my blood pressure was 175 over 100. "Are you scared?" asked the nurse.
So in the end, I lived. After about eight hours of my skin feeling like it's crawling or shedding or something very painful, a nice talk with the doctor, a trip to the phlebotomist, back to the allergist for a painful shot in the butt, and back to the pharmacist for the second time in two days, I returned home and took a bath with oatmeal in it - it's supposed to help. I'm on much stronger steroids now for a much longer period, as well as some other meds. And I have to carry around an EpiPen to give myself shots when my life depends on it.
Here are some pictures from that night, after all the meds and after all the swelling went down. My legs are the worse of it but by "legs," I mean where I wear underwear, my thighs mostly, and nobody wants to see that much of me.
Later that night, I finally admitted to Tiff, "Yes, I was scared." I was very, very scared.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Making Money
Just wanted to boast and brag, I made a sale on Zazzle. Only ten months after I announced that my seemingly insanely over-priced t-shirt business was open for business, I made my first sale. And I am now $1.36 richer. At this rate, I'll have amassed a small fortune by the time my great-great-grandkids enter retirement.
I don't know who my customer was, or what they bought as they edited the product, but if you're out there, I thank you. And keep buying.
I don't know who my customer was, or what they bought as they edited the product, but if you're out there, I thank you. And keep buying.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
New Red Rug
Tiff and I got an area rug the other day from Wal-Mart. We've been talking about getting one recently because after three years our apartment carpet isn't holding up too well. We saw a nice red one at a good price and new it was perfect. Plus, at 5'x8', it's just the right size for where we need it. 
Luckily, the ACTUAL size of where we need it is only 4'6"x7'4".
Saturday, January 26, 2008
The Best Blog
I think I've mentioned in the past that I like Yahoo! I use Yahoo! I check Yahoo! for Yahoo!news and Yahoo! sports and Yahoo! weather. I have Yahoo! email, and I love My Yahoo!, which I checked today and it made me say, "yahoo."
Recently, My Yahoo! was upgraded and I could link it to feeds from blogs, so I linked mine to one blog, that of Leo Babauta, which I'm sure you're now patiently thinking, "yeah, who?" I chose it from a list of options for it's name Zen Habits. I figured maybe it could teach me how to live even more in peace with my body and mind than I am now, if that's possible. The blog is usually just lists and tips of how to unclutter your world and stuff, which generally is kind of boring.
He has apparently found an audience though as his blog was recently named Best Blog of the Year. A few days later he posted "Happy 1st Birthday Zen Habits." I started nearly three years ago... Best Blog... ya-friggin-hoo!
Anyways, he started this other site about writing, so I read his thoughts about blogwriting and I realized how much I am not a blog writer. He stresses how close the writer and the reader are with blogs, "Read that last sentence again, because it’s key: speak to the readers. Write as if you’re talking to them." I think where I'm going wrong is that I'm just talking to myself half the time. (Hey, sexy.)
Maybe if I did "read that last sentence again" I could relate to this: "You’re writing for an audience who will comment on the post mere minutes after you press “publish”. They will argue with you, praise you, become your friends. They will write their own posts, commenting on and analyzing your writing." As it is though, I'm excited when my wife comments... analyzing my writing.
Anyways, I doubt that my blog empire is on its way to any Blog of Fame, I still have fun doing it. And while this post sucks, at least its better than me listing reasons why its important to clean your desk off, even if it is... and you learn something from it... and you read it in spite of how lame you know it to be... probably because you know it's just a list and you don't have to read through some long post with no pictures.
Recently, My Yahoo! was upgraded and I could link it to feeds from blogs, so I linked mine to one blog, that of Leo Babauta, which I'm sure you're now patiently thinking, "yeah, who?" I chose it from a list of options for it's name Zen Habits. I figured maybe it could teach me how to live even more in peace with my body and mind than I am now, if that's possible. The blog is usually just lists and tips of how to unclutter your world and stuff, which generally is kind of boring.
He has apparently found an audience though as his blog was recently named Best Blog of the Year. A few days later he posted "Happy 1st Birthday Zen Habits." I started nearly three years ago... Best Blog... ya-friggin-hoo!
Anyways, he started this other site about writing, so I read his thoughts about blogwriting and I realized how much I am not a blog writer. He stresses how close the writer and the reader are with blogs, "Read that last sentence again, because it’s key: speak to the readers. Write as if you’re talking to them." I think where I'm going wrong is that I'm just talking to myself half the time. (Hey, sexy.)
Maybe if I did "read that last sentence again" I could relate to this: "You’re writing for an audience who will comment on the post mere minutes after you press “publish”. They will argue with you, praise you, become your friends. They will write their own posts, commenting on and analyzing your writing." As it is though, I'm excited when my wife comments... analyzing my writing.
Anyways, I doubt that my blog empire is on its way to any Blog of Fame, I still have fun doing it. And while this post sucks, at least its better than me listing reasons why its important to clean your desk off, even if it is... and you learn something from it... and you read it in spite of how lame you know it to be... probably because you know it's just a list and you don't have to read through some long post with no pictures.
Friday, January 25, 2008
Put Me In, Coach. I'm on Steroids.
That's right, I have entered the world of dubious superstars, as I am on rigorous regiment of steroids.I went to the doctor last week with persistent flu-like symptoms and learned that nothing is wrong with me. So, just to appease me, the good doctor put me on some cough medicine. A few days later, I was covered in nasty, all-to-familiar, red bumps that itched to no end. I have quite a mysterious history with hives in that I had them everyday for about 18 months a few years ago, and never figured out what caused them, where they came from or ultimately, why they left.
With the hives, a lot of things have changed in my life recently, from shampoo, Yes to Carrots!, to Jack LaLanne's PowerJuicer Pro among other stuff, so the doctor just put me on steroids to knock them out and then worry about it if they come back... which seems to be backward logic, but who am I to question someone who's a doctor.
Steroids are crazy though. I strongly doubt that my Prednisone is very similar to the stuff that bulks up ball players, but it has had some pretty incredible side-effects. First off, it gives me head aches right when I take them, but they fade. More importantly, I feel better. For the first time in months, I actually feel close to healthy, which is a good feeling. Also - and this one I'm struggling with the wording - I feel motivated.
At work, I'm doing tasks that I almost never bother with, thinking outside my normal routine, and everything's moving smoothly. At home, I feel like helping out more, which I'm not going to get into because I'm not sure if I actually have been helping out. Also at home, I've been playing a mean game of NCAA Football lately. I'm winning every game! I'm driven... focused... energized. Maybe I'm just healthy for the first time in months.
Now, if I could just stop getting these hives I'd be in good shape.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
My Man-Crush
I haven't written for awhile for various reasons, and most folks reading this might think it's weird what brings me to writing another post.
When Tiff and I first moved in together we didn't have much. We had so little furniture that the living room of our one-bedroom apartment was empty for close to six months as our brand new bed was also our couch, kitchen table, card table, and bathroom... wait, no. We had so little money that we chose not to get cable TV for a year and a half and struggled with bunny ears to watch our favorite shows. That first spring there was more than one "emergency" trips to Tiff's parents' on Tuesday nights to watch American Idol, which we consciously aren't watching this year.
It wasn't long before we decided to get a DVD player and a Blockbuster card - ah, the days before Netflix. We watched a lot of movies, but owned very few. One of those few, in fact one of the first two was A Knight's Tale. This brilliant movie cleverly merges the sport of jousting with classic rock music. You know it's a winner when the medieval royal horn section plays "We Will Rock You." Tiff got it for me because she caught me watching it repeatedly on HBO before we moved out on our own.
The movie's leading man is one Heath Ledger, whom Tiffany convinced me that I had a man-crush on. It wasn't anything sexual, it's just that there was something about him I liked. He seemed down to Earth and just a cool guy. Pretty soon, I embraced the idea of this man-crush and freely mentioned it if it ever came up. Then he was a gay cowboy in Brokeback Mountain, and I felt like a public man-crush took a different tone. So I switched my man-crush to Clive Owen. I guess I got a thing for guys with accents.
Anyways, in a world of Britney Spears media and Hollywood cellulite gracing magazine covers, I liked Heath Ledger and I'm sad to hear of his death. He was great and surely would've been even greater in time.
PS. How cool is it that he's going to be the Joker.
When Tiff and I first moved in together we didn't have much. We had so little furniture that the living room of our one-bedroom apartment was empty for close to six months as our brand new bed was also our couch, kitchen table, card table, and bathroom... wait, no. We had so little money that we chose not to get cable TV for a year and a half and struggled with bunny ears to watch our favorite shows. That first spring there was more than one "emergency" trips to Tiff's parents' on Tuesday nights to watch American Idol, which we consciously aren't watching this year.
It wasn't long before we decided to get a DVD player and a Blockbuster card - ah, the days before Netflix. We watched a lot of movies, but owned very few. One of those few, in fact one of the first two was A Knight's Tale. This brilliant movie cleverly merges the sport of jousting with classic rock music. You know it's a winner when the medieval royal horn section plays "We Will Rock You." Tiff got it for me because she caught me watching it repeatedly on HBO before we moved out on our own.
The movie's leading man is one Heath Ledger, whom Tiffany convinced me that I had a man-crush on. It wasn't anything sexual, it's just that there was something about him I liked. He seemed down to Earth and just a cool guy. Pretty soon, I embraced the idea of this man-crush and freely mentioned it if it ever came up. Then he was a gay cowboy in Brokeback Mountain, and I felt like a public man-crush took a different tone. So I switched my man-crush to Clive Owen. I guess I got a thing for guys with accents.
Anyways, in a world of Britney Spears media and Hollywood cellulite gracing magazine covers, I liked Heath Ledger and I'm sad to hear of his death. He was great and surely would've been even greater in time.
PS. How cool is it that he's going to be the Joker.
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
Happy Birthday Tiffany!
Today my beautiful wife celebrates her birthday. My gift to her: carrots.
She has recently discovered Yes to Carrots, a line of lotions and shampoos and stuff made from everybody's favorite orange food that grows underground. Well, maybe second favorite after yams. I'm not sure where she learned of Yes to Carrots, perhaps an infomercial, but she ordered a bottle online, I think to get past the $25-no-shipping-fee mark and now she's suddenly all about it. "Golly!" she'll exclaim, "I love my Yes to Carrots! Carrots are the future of health, food, and alternative energy."
So I got her some of their stuff, and I'm finally reading about carrots. She's right, carrots are pretty amazing. They actually do improve your eye sight, they're high in all sorts of good stuff, and are good combatants of tonsillitis! They even reduce the risk of breast cancer. Nature's candy does everything but put hair on your chest.
I have a feeling that if I typed in any other fruit or vegetable a similar list of benefits would emerge. That's not to take anything away from the carrot, it's just that every so often you hear about the amazing effects of whatever. Cranberries, pomegranates, starfruit, blueberries... there's been a list recently of the "new" miracle food that will ensure the survival of the human race.
So if they are all really good for you, I will celebrate them individually. This year carrots get the nod, so join with me as I sing on high, Yes to Carrots!
And next year let us embrace Yes to Yams!
She has recently discovered Yes to Carrots, a line of lotions and shampoos and stuff made from everybody's favorite orange food that grows underground. Well, maybe second favorite after yams. I'm not sure where she learned of Yes to Carrots, perhaps an infomercial, but she ordered a bottle online, I think to get past the $25-no-shipping-fee mark and now she's suddenly all about it. "Golly!" she'll exclaim, "I love my Yes to Carrots! Carrots are the future of health, food, and alternative energy."So I got her some of their stuff, and I'm finally reading about carrots. She's right, carrots are pretty amazing. They actually do improve your eye sight, they're high in all sorts of good stuff, and are good combatants of tonsillitis! They even reduce the risk of breast cancer. Nature's candy does everything but put hair on your chest.
I have a feeling that if I typed in any other fruit or vegetable a similar list of benefits would emerge. That's not to take anything away from the carrot, it's just that every so often you hear about the amazing effects of whatever. Cranberries, pomegranates, starfruit, blueberries... there's been a list recently of the "new" miracle food that will ensure the survival of the human race.
So if they are all really good for you, I will celebrate them individually. This year carrots get the nod, so join with me as I sing on high, Yes to Carrots!
And next year let us embrace Yes to Yams!
Big TV
I'm thinking about upgrading a few of my home appliances. Right now, I've got my eye on Panasonic's new 150-inch plasma TV.
I hear it's so clear that it's like you're actually there. You can visit places you really want to go, like Moraine Lake, Canada (note the date), from the comfort of your own home. Although with a TV like that, you'd need a pretty good sound system.
I hear it's so clear that it's like you're actually there. You can visit places you really want to go, like Moraine Lake, Canada (note the date), from the comfort of your own home. Although with a TV like that, you'd need a pretty good sound system.
Thursday, January 03, 2008
Happy New Year!
It's good to have New Year's Resolutions. I have one, although secretly I have at least four or five. I figure it's best to have several stashed away that you're quietly working towards, that way a few months down the road when all but one have fallen to the wayside, you can pull it out from secrecy. You can tell people, "You know, it's the one thing that I set out to accomplish this New Year's and I'm quite proud of myself for sticking to it."
This year I'm trying my hand at sharing my resolution with the world. So is China's national soccer team. They vowed on New Year's Day to qualify for the 2010 World Cup. "I pledge to advance to the World Cup, which is the professional goal that we strive for," they said in unison as a team. This is very noble goal, reaching the top of your career, and while I will support Team USA, I wish them the best of luck.
I have started watching more and more professional soccer. It started after the last World Cup in 2006. Maybe it's because I use to play as a kid when, alone in the yard, my daydreams were usually of the World Cup, but I got really into watching the games in 2006. A lot more so then watching any football or baseball game. It's not quite as exciting, mainly because the crowds aren't as large, but I like that DC United games are broadcast on TV here... actually over one of the C-SPAN channels. Maybe this year I'll get to go to a game.
The second part of China's national team's pledge read like this: "We swear by death to kill along the bloody road of defending the honour of the motherland and realise our youthful dreams." Ah yes, I use to have those bloody... I mean, youthful dreams. Best of luck, China, best of luck.
This year I'm trying my hand at sharing my resolution with the world. So is China's national soccer team. They vowed on New Year's Day to qualify for the 2010 World Cup. "I pledge to advance to the World Cup, which is the professional goal that we strive for," they said in unison as a team. This is very noble goal, reaching the top of your career, and while I will support Team USA, I wish them the best of luck.
I have started watching more and more professional soccer. It started after the last World Cup in 2006. Maybe it's because I use to play as a kid when, alone in the yard, my daydreams were usually of the World Cup, but I got really into watching the games in 2006. A lot more so then watching any football or baseball game. It's not quite as exciting, mainly because the crowds aren't as large, but I like that DC United games are broadcast on TV here... actually over one of the C-SPAN channels. Maybe this year I'll get to go to a game.
The second part of China's national team's pledge read like this: "We swear by death to kill along the bloody road of defending the honour of the motherland and realise our youthful dreams." Ah yes, I use to have those bloody... I mean, youthful dreams. Best of luck, China, best of luck.
Monday, December 31, 2007
My Dancing Debut
Should old aquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind:
That's a married man on stage. Yep, that's a married man.
That's a married man on stage. Yep, that's a married man.
Saturday, December 29, 2007
Wii Have Fun!
Tiffany's sister was one of the countless lucky ones whose Santa was able to find a Wii this Christmas. It's much more fun the Magic Bullet. Nintendo's newest offering is amazingly revolutionary with the remote control wand in lieu of what I think of as a regular controller, and after just a few hours of practice I feel like I'm ready to give a major presentation complete with laser pointer.
I should say that my idea of a regular controller is one that is first and foremost tethered to the game console. Moreover, it has a directional pad and an A button and a B button, which is almost always used to jump. Since then there have been some pretty big upgrades. A C-button, but that fell out of favor when X and Y came along. The top L and R trigger buttons were added too, but I don't like using those, because it changes how I hold the controller, then there was the directional pad and the joystick and a trigger and an A, a B, and six C buttons for a while. Then there was a second joystick on the same controller along with a directional pad, which I still don't understand why. But this is something entirely different.
All of those were attached. There was a wire running from you to the game box to the TV. Plus, they were all the same basic idea, they were just getting more and more complicated, not unlike an old one bedroom house that grows room by room as the family inside grows until you wind up with this strange amalgamation of a house that belongs on the pages of Mother Goose, with kids running all over the place.
In fact, I had a friend with this theory that today's kids will possess a much more greater mental capacity as a direct result of all those extra buttons. Growing up using 18 buttons is definitely more complicated than using three that I started out on.
The Wii just scraps the whole idea and forces you to actually swing a bat or roll a ball or shake a soda can or punch your friend. I probably could get into the idea that it's not the same as actually swinging a bat or rolling a ball or punching your friend, but I won't because it's just too much fun! I love it.
I love it so much that I'm afraid I've played it too much. Like the first days of summer growing up, after spending hours upon hours, heading to bed with a sore thumb, the beginnings of a necessary callous, I am holding my arm and wincing in pain from the beginnings of tennis elbow and a sore shoulder, but am eager to return and start up a game.
In honor of my friend, I'm going to take a moment to wonder how the Wii will affect the growth of little minds. They will probably all be experts at giving major presentations with laser pointers.
I should say that my idea of a regular controller is one that is first and foremost tethered to the game console. Moreover, it has a directional pad and an A button and a B button, which is almost always used to jump. Since then there have been some pretty big upgrades. A C-button, but that fell out of favor when X and Y came along. The top L and R trigger buttons were added too, but I don't like using those, because it changes how I hold the controller, then there was the directional pad and the joystick and a trigger and an A, a B, and six C buttons for a while. Then there was a second joystick on the same controller along with a directional pad, which I still don't understand why. But this is something entirely different.
All of those were attached. There was a wire running from you to the game box to the TV. Plus, they were all the same basic idea, they were just getting more and more complicated, not unlike an old one bedroom house that grows room by room as the family inside grows until you wind up with this strange amalgamation of a house that belongs on the pages of Mother Goose, with kids running all over the place.
In fact, I had a friend with this theory that today's kids will possess a much more greater mental capacity as a direct result of all those extra buttons. Growing up using 18 buttons is definitely more complicated than using three that I started out on.
The Wii just scraps the whole idea and forces you to actually swing a bat or roll a ball or shake a soda can or punch your friend. I probably could get into the idea that it's not the same as actually swinging a bat or rolling a ball or punching your friend, but I won't because it's just too much fun! I love it.
I love it so much that I'm afraid I've played it too much. Like the first days of summer growing up, after spending hours upon hours, heading to bed with a sore thumb, the beginnings of a necessary callous, I am holding my arm and wincing in pain from the beginnings of tennis elbow and a sore shoulder, but am eager to return and start up a game.
In honor of my friend, I'm going to take a moment to wonder how the Wii will affect the growth of little minds. They will probably all be experts at giving major presentations with laser pointers.
Friday, December 28, 2007
The Magic Bullet
I've finally succumbed to the power of the TV. I think I mentioned that we downgraded our cable significantly and we know only get somewhere around 15 channels. Of those two are fuzzy, three don't speak English, three are "community" channels, two are titled C-SPAN, and one brings the message of the Roman Catholic faith 24-hours a day.
With our old cable package, it was easy to find nothing to watch. There'd always be some rerun of some celebrity reality show or some movie that was on enough that you probably seen it all, just not in the right order. Our limited cable requires some work and finagling to find nothing to watch. You have to really know where to go and wait for nothing, and as a result I watch a lot of PBS concerts, and okay, my fair share of C-SPAN, which isn't very much.
Then there are infomercials, 30-minute gems of advertising. The crazy thing is is that they almost always get me. I start thinking to myself, well, I'm not much of a cleaner, but if I got that super clean spray, the stuff would stay clean longer. Or, I wonder where I could store a collapsible ladder. Or, I bet it would feel great to have all the build-up flushed out of my intestines. The winner though is the Magic Bullet. Make meals in 3 seconds... one, two... ... ... three!
So for Christmas, our first as Man and Wife, Tiffany got the Magic Bullet. While the name doesn't quite scream kitchen appliance, it's the greatest of it's kind that I've ever come across. The first night, we made excellent omelettes, just put in the eggs, the cheese and a couple slices of ham and in one, two... ... ...three! It was fully blended and poured onto a frying pan. It really was the best home-cooked eggs I've ever had, which is saying something! And to wash it down, Tiff mixed up some coffee and warm chocolate milk into a nice frothy mocchachino, or machiatto, or frappelatte, or something like that.
So I've officially entered the world of teleshopping, even if I found the Magic Bullet at Kmart. It's a pretty slippery slope, as I've already got my eye on another infomercial, and I'm starting to wonder just how much money I'm actually saving with my downgraded cable.
With our old cable package, it was easy to find nothing to watch. There'd always be some rerun of some celebrity reality show or some movie that was on enough that you probably seen it all, just not in the right order. Our limited cable requires some work and finagling to find nothing to watch. You have to really know where to go and wait for nothing, and as a result I watch a lot of PBS concerts, and okay, my fair share of C-SPAN, which isn't very much.
Then there are infomercials, 30-minute gems of advertising. The crazy thing is is that they almost always get me. I start thinking to myself, well, I'm not much of a cleaner, but if I got that super clean spray, the stuff would stay clean longer. Or, I wonder where I could store a collapsible ladder. Or, I bet it would feel great to have all the build-up flushed out of my intestines. The winner though is the Magic Bullet. Make meals in 3 seconds... one, two... ... ... three!
So for Christmas, our first as Man and Wife, Tiffany got the Magic Bullet. While the name doesn't quite scream kitchen appliance, it's the greatest of it's kind that I've ever come across. The first night, we made excellent omelettes, just put in the eggs, the cheese and a couple slices of ham and in one, two... ... ...three! It was fully blended and poured onto a frying pan. It really was the best home-cooked eggs I've ever had, which is saying something! And to wash it down, Tiff mixed up some coffee and warm chocolate milk into a nice frothy mocchachino, or machiatto, or frappelatte, or something like that.So I've officially entered the world of teleshopping, even if I found the Magic Bullet at Kmart. It's a pretty slippery slope, as I've already got my eye on another infomercial, and I'm starting to wonder just how much money I'm actually saving with my downgraded cable.
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Merry Christmas
Here's to wishing you the best this Christmas.
Fresh from Jamaica, Tiff and I looked a bit too hard for music that would gap our beach-lovin', no worries reggae vibe with the Christmas carols and stumbled upon this... there's no good way for me to do it, so go here and switch the music player to the "12 Days of Christmas."
It's a great song as it has what is truly important in life, whether you're a Rastafarian or just some white guy in Virginia. I would gladly take five songs to sing over five golden rings any time of the year.
UPDATE: The singer is Peter Broggs... here's the album that he's on. You can listen to thirty seconds of it. Tiff found it on myspace, usually a great place to find music, but I guess it was taken off, which happens all too often.
Fresh from Jamaica, Tiff and I looked a bit too hard for music that would gap our beach-lovin', no worries reggae vibe with the Christmas carols and stumbled upon this... there's no good way for me to do it, so go here and switch the music player to the "12 Days of Christmas."
It's a great song as it has what is truly important in life, whether you're a Rastafarian or just some white guy in Virginia. I would gladly take five songs to sing over five golden rings any time of the year.
UPDATE: The singer is Peter Broggs... here's the album that he's on. You can listen to thirty seconds of it. Tiff found it on myspace, usually a great place to find music, but I guess it was taken off, which happens all too often.
Saturday, December 22, 2007
The Three Finger Theory
I have long held on to the belief that mankind is evolving. Not so much in the superpower sense that Heroes promotes and not so much in the two paths sense of HG Wells' Time Machine. Both of those could happen, I'm not contending that. I would love to be able to fly or shoot laser beams from my eyes or whatever. I'm thinking of something far more subtle, but potentially just as significant.
I developed this theory in the prime of my brain activity years, college, and grasped onto the idea immediately and have let it percolate and bubble over as time has gone by. As I was deep in thought studying the back of my hand one day, I noticed something about my fingers.
My fingers naturally stay with a gap between my index and middle finger and another between my ring finger and pinky. It only makes sense that the result of this one day in the not-so-distant future will be a generation of babies born with only three fingers. Yes, it is my belief that the future will bring a joining of the middle and the ring finger in what will undoubtedly be known as the middling finger. Or the ringiddle finger.
But then recently, something happened that made me rethink that. I looked down at my beautiful hand to ponder my future middling finger and this is what I saw:
Complete and catastrophic heartbreak slowly sank in. How could I have been so naive? My wedding ring throws the entire Three Finger Theory out the window. It is a defenestrated theory! Not only is the ring a physical barrier to the blissful union of middle and ring, it's done so forcefully and painfully as I become accustomed to wearing the very symbol of blissful unions!
As I must slowly recover from the shock and grief brought on by this startling discovery, I will turn to my shiny new ring to brighten my day and my shiny new wife to tell me everything will be okay.
I developed this theory in the prime of my brain activity years, college, and grasped onto the idea immediately and have let it percolate and bubble over as time has gone by. As I was deep in thought studying the back of my hand one day, I noticed something about my fingers.
My fingers naturally stay with a gap between my index and middle finger and another between my ring finger and pinky. It only makes sense that the result of this one day in the not-so-distant future will be a generation of babies born with only three fingers. Yes, it is my belief that the future will bring a joining of the middle and the ring finger in what will undoubtedly be known as the middling finger. Or the ringiddle finger.But then recently, something happened that made me rethink that. I looked down at my beautiful hand to ponder my future middling finger and this is what I saw:
Complete and catastrophic heartbreak slowly sank in. How could I have been so naive? My wedding ring throws the entire Three Finger Theory out the window. It is a defenestrated theory! Not only is the ring a physical barrier to the blissful union of middle and ring, it's done so forcefully and painfully as I become accustomed to wearing the very symbol of blissful unions!As I must slowly recover from the shock and grief brought on by this startling discovery, I will turn to my shiny new ring to brighten my day and my shiny new wife to tell me everything will be okay.
Friday, December 21, 2007
Skittlers
We, at the Muted Guerrilla, would like to introduce to you the greatest game in all the world. The game is simply called skittlers. We stumbled upon this addictive game of skill and precision while on our honeymoon in Jamaica's beautiful Runaway Bay. It's look reminds me oddly of the old cigarette vending machines, but I don't have any pictures suggesting that.
I am confident, however, that you have never seen anything like it or even near it's demanding level of pure enjoyment... for it demands that you have a good time. How can I be so confident? I challenge you to look up skittlers on the internet... you can't find it. Of course, if you type in "skittle" and "Jamaica," you might find the website of our honeymoon destination, but that's asking too much.
Skittlers is similar to billiards in that it's a table game with a green top with holes and you use a cue stick to swat at balls, but the similarities end there. In fact, a better example is golf. But imagine, if you will, if golf were played for speed, and if you have a bad hit you have to start all over, way back at the beginning. That's still not quite right.
So you have yourself a starting point, like a tee, and you have to hit the balls into any of nine holes in order to score points. Each hole has a different value. Every time the ball goes in a hole it rolls down the inside of the machine and out a slot that is worth points. Standing in your way are four menacing wooden posts, guarding the front four holes. If one of these precariously balanced sentinels topples over, which they will undoubtedly do, you lose all your points and start over. The winner is the first to 500.
Oh!! It is so much fun. Tiff and I became pretty good at it too.. We still had our share of start-overs but it never lost its fun. I'm bummed that I probably won't find it here in Virginia, but I guess that's another reason to go back to Jamaica.
I am confident, however, that you have never seen anything like it or even near it's demanding level of pure enjoyment... for it demands that you have a good time. How can I be so confident? I challenge you to look up skittlers on the internet... you can't find it. Of course, if you type in "skittle" and "Jamaica," you might find the website of our honeymoon destination, but that's asking too much.
Skittlers is similar to billiards in that it's a table game with a green top with holes and you use a cue stick to swat at balls, but the similarities end there. In fact, a better example is golf. But imagine, if you will, if golf were played for speed, and if you have a bad hit you have to start all over, way back at the beginning. That's still not quite right.
So you have yourself a starting point, like a tee, and you have to hit the balls into any of nine holes in order to score points. Each hole has a different value. Every time the ball goes in a hole it rolls down the inside of the machine and out a slot that is worth points. Standing in your way are four menacing wooden posts, guarding the front four holes. If one of these precariously balanced sentinels topples over, which they will undoubtedly do, you lose all your points and start over. The winner is the first to 500.Oh!! It is so much fun. Tiff and I became pretty good at it too.. We still had our share of start-overs but it never lost its fun. I'm bummed that I probably won't find it here in Virginia, but I guess that's another reason to go back to Jamaica.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
And I Didn't Even Get a Toothbrush
My writing and posting seems to go in spurts; it was about this time last year that I trailed off only to reemerge in the summer. It must be something to do with the shortened days... it must be.
Last spring, as I was in writing hibernation, I came close to posting something all of one time. I envisioned it in letter format:
Last spring, as I was in writing hibernation, I came close to posting something all of one time. I envisioned it in letter format:
Dear Mom,
I finally made it to the dentist. They cleaned my teeth really well. I only have nine cavities!
Much love,
John Duffy
I'm not sure why it was a letter to my mom, I don't even think she reads my blog.
Anyways, nine months later, I'm finally cavity free, although the dentist said five of them could potential become root canals. Great! More trips to the dentist!
It took two trips to the dentist to get all my cavities worked on; I'm beginning to figure out the proper dentist chair etiquette, if there is any. I haven't experienced stuff like colonoscopies, but the regular dentist visits are surprisingly awkward. I mean the dentist's face is maybe ten inches from yours and they are staring at you the whole time, with their rubbered hands wedged into your mouth. Getting cavities done, I had a second face near mine, with a third and fourth hand working in my mouth.
With two faces right in front of me, I had a hard time finding something to look at. I closed my eyes for a while but that made me swallow more, so I tried to keep them open. I can report the ceiling was a dreary cream color. There is a TV in the office, but it's at my feet so I couldn't watch it. The dentist surely did though, occasionally making comments that I responded to through grunts with hands in my mouth. The second time I went I was unusually tired and felt myself drift off to sleep once or twice. I twitched and jumped and couldn't explain, as I had hands and drills in my mouth.
All in all, I'm done with the dentist for a while... at least six months or so. Hopefully, I'm not done with the blog for six months or so. We will see though.
Friday, December 14, 2007
The Goat Race
So I got married... Tiffany is now my wife. Jamaica was amazing, absolutely amazing, and we had a truly wonderful time. There are many, many stories to tell, including some of actually getting married, but Tiff and I agree that the first one shared definitely needs to be the Goat Race.
I was in the fourth heat of racers. The three heats before me were all very close match-ups, where it was anyone's race right down to the finish line. My heat was extremely intense from the beginning. Here's me at the starting line getting pumped up along with all my competitors.
I was in the fourth heat of racers. The three heats before me were all very close match-ups, where it was anyone's race right down to the finish line. My heat was extremely intense from the beginning. Here's me at the starting line getting pumped up along with all my competitors.
I hope you can see the focus and determination on everyone's face but mine. Here's the actual race:
So I didn't take home the grand prize but I feel I gave it all I had... I'm not sure if the goat put forth all his effort though.
Monday, December 03, 2007
I'm Getting Married!!
Tomorrow I head off to the Caribbean, where I'll be getting married on Friday!! I'll be back next Thursday with a ring on my finger and a wife on my arm. And I'll eventually share a story or two, but for now... I'm off to this gazebo:
And I'm getting married!!
And I'm getting married!!
Christmas Convoy
The federal government has quite a few resources at their disposal.
The other day... over a week ago now - the Sunday after Thanksgiving, Tiff and I drove up to a long line of cars and trucks on the highway all blinking their hazards. They were driving way too slow for I-95 and were really making heavy traffic become dangerous traffic. I muttered more than one word that I shouldn't repeat.
With the first five or six cars we saw, along with a blue-light police car, we assumed we were passing a funeral, but a funeral procession on the highway? Hmmm... a little peculiar. When we went over a hill, things became a little clearer, albeit a little stranger. We didn't see many at first, but we did see one of them. A giant flatbed truck was just ahead covered with no less than 75 Christmas trees. We soon caught up to it and noticed it was a U.S. Forestry Services truck.
The federal government always gets the best. These trees, judging by their liscense plates, are hauled down from Vermont. I guess that's where true authentic Christmas trees are born. The Christmas tree farm just up the rode from where Tiff grew up, maybe an hour outside of DC, aren't quite good enough. The federal government deserves the best.
We passed maybe ten more trucks each with Christmas trees stacked high and then we caught up to the lead one. An equally large flatbed truck with one giant Christmas tree wrapped up in a traveling coat fully decorated with lights with a big sign reading:
I'm not sure about that dog there. We stopped at the next rest stop to rest and as we were getting ready to go, in comes the Christmas Convoy, one after the other. I got to take a few pictures.
Looking back on it, I probably could have gotten some better shots. Just to note, these are not the National Christmas Tree. That tree is planted in the ground outside the White House. Even though it's there year round, it was a gift by the state of Vermont... it's authentic.
The other day... over a week ago now - the Sunday after Thanksgiving, Tiff and I drove up to a long line of cars and trucks on the highway all blinking their hazards. They were driving way too slow for I-95 and were really making heavy traffic become dangerous traffic. I muttered more than one word that I shouldn't repeat.
With the first five or six cars we saw, along with a blue-light police car, we assumed we were passing a funeral, but a funeral procession on the highway? Hmmm... a little peculiar. When we went over a hill, things became a little clearer, albeit a little stranger. We didn't see many at first, but we did see one of them. A giant flatbed truck was just ahead covered with no less than 75 Christmas trees. We soon caught up to it and noticed it was a U.S. Forestry Services truck.
The federal government always gets the best. These trees, judging by their liscense plates, are hauled down from Vermont. I guess that's where true authentic Christmas trees are born. The Christmas tree farm just up the rode from where Tiff grew up, maybe an hour outside of DC, aren't quite good enough. The federal government deserves the best.
We passed maybe ten more trucks each with Christmas trees stacked high and then we caught up to the lead one. An equally large flatbed truck with one giant Christmas tree wrapped up in a traveling coat fully decorated with lights with a big sign reading:
I'm not sure about that dog there. We stopped at the next rest stop to rest and as we were getting ready to go, in comes the Christmas Convoy, one after the other. I got to take a few pictures.Looking back on it, I probably could have gotten some better shots. Just to note, these are not the National Christmas Tree. That tree is planted in the ground outside the White House. Even though it's there year round, it was a gift by the state of Vermont... it's authentic.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Suddenly Seventeen
I promise my lack of recent posts has nothing to do with the Writers strike.
I've had a cold for a few weeks. That's not all that uncommon for me. A few days of a bad cough turns into a few days of a runny nose turns into a few days of just not feeling good and then the cough comes back. It's pretty minor and I've never gone to the doctor for it. It's just a cold. A doctor's visit would be a waste of time, mine and his.
I took two days off from work this week mainly just to take two days off from work. My boss asked that I bring in a doctor's note. A doctor's note for a common cold. By the time I got to the doctor's, I felt fine, my one symptom, a runny nose, being completely cleared up, and I was rehearsing how I would justify to the doctor coming in. "My boss needs a note," was about the extent of it.
I'm losing track of my story. It turns out, while I felt healthy, I had a temperature, 99.1, and she said my glands were swollen and then said I had a sinus infection, which I think is just a fancy word for a cold. It all happened very quickly and I forgot to ask for a note.
The weird part is at the pharmacy. As the pharmacist handed me my meds, she says to me, "You may want to call your insurance company." I'm not sure what it was but I knew I was guilty of something and turned bright red. She explained that the insurance company has my birthday as May 6, 1990. Each part is pretty close, but altogether, it's way off.
So, while it's nice to be ten years younger, I think I need to make a phone call. I'm curious though how my doctor's office didn't pick up on it.
I've had a cold for a few weeks. That's not all that uncommon for me. A few days of a bad cough turns into a few days of a runny nose turns into a few days of just not feeling good and then the cough comes back. It's pretty minor and I've never gone to the doctor for it. It's just a cold. A doctor's visit would be a waste of time, mine and his.
I took two days off from work this week mainly just to take two days off from work. My boss asked that I bring in a doctor's note. A doctor's note for a common cold. By the time I got to the doctor's, I felt fine, my one symptom, a runny nose, being completely cleared up, and I was rehearsing how I would justify to the doctor coming in. "My boss needs a note," was about the extent of it.
I'm losing track of my story. It turns out, while I felt healthy, I had a temperature, 99.1, and she said my glands were swollen and then said I had a sinus infection, which I think is just a fancy word for a cold. It all happened very quickly and I forgot to ask for a note.
The weird part is at the pharmacy. As the pharmacist handed me my meds, she says to me, "You may want to call your insurance company." I'm not sure what it was but I knew I was guilty of something and turned bright red. She explained that the insurance company has my birthday as May 6, 1990. Each part is pretty close, but altogether, it's way off.
So, while it's nice to be ten years younger, I think I need to make a phone call. I'm curious though how my doctor's office didn't pick up on it.
Monday, November 12, 2007
Happy Veteran's Day
Happy Veteran's Day everybody and thanks to all the veteran's everywhere... or at least all the ones on our side. Today is also significant as it marks the 37th anniversary of the exploding whale.
Yes, the blast blasted blubber beyond all believable bounds. The next line's great too... "alright Craig you can take your hands out of your ears."
Yes, the blast blasted blubber beyond all believable bounds. The next line's great too... "alright Craig you can take your hands out of your ears."
Thursday, November 01, 2007
Ratings
If I ran a blog empire I would want people to rate my posts as easily as you can rate articles on Yahoo!, CDs at Amazon, or determine the fate of fallen gladiators. I wait... I do run a blog empire! I do want people to rate my posts! Now, if blogger just let me do it I would be a happy camper.
Yahoo! lets you rate each article with a 5 star option. Amazon does the same thing with all it's products. On Yahoo!, you can give movies grades A to F and you can give people the thumbs up or down on their Answers feature. All these are great and wonderful, and would be a great addition to my blog. Well... either a great addition or a short-lived, highly depressing experiment.
Personally, I don't think a five point scale has the range to get a true sense of your opinion towards something. And a ten point scale is too over-used and ten is an arbitrary number anyways, so I am introducing what is to my knowledge the first ever 30 point scale. Thirty points will eliminate ugly decimals, while giving you a broad range to choose from.
It may sound crazy, but it's not - it's revolutionary. Think of the best movie you've ever seen - say it's Home Alone. You think Home Alone is the greatest movie ever made. You especially like the one scene with the old guy in the church. Home Alone would then score a 29. That's right. Nothing ever gets a 30, because something better will always come.
Now let's think of the worst movie ever - say, for whatever reason, you hate the movie Jaws III. Simple enough... it gets a zero. Why can there be a zero and no thirty? Why can there be a zero on a 1 to 30 scale? Because things can always suck.
Anyways, I fear if I drag this on any longer I will start to lose points... even more points than I lost for mentioning that I would lose points for dragging this out. So with no further ado, I urge everybody everywhere to use my new and improved ratings every second of every day.
Or at least until I can convince blogger to give me some sort of rating scale option of its own.
Yahoo! lets you rate each article with a 5 star option. Amazon does the same thing with all it's products. On Yahoo!, you can give movies grades A to F and you can give people the thumbs up or down on their Answers feature. All these are great and wonderful, and would be a great addition to my blog. Well... either a great addition or a short-lived, highly depressing experiment.
Personally, I don't think a five point scale has the range to get a true sense of your opinion towards something. And a ten point scale is too over-used and ten is an arbitrary number anyways, so I am introducing what is to my knowledge the first ever 30 point scale. Thirty points will eliminate ugly decimals, while giving you a broad range to choose from.
It may sound crazy, but it's not - it's revolutionary. Think of the best movie you've ever seen - say it's Home Alone. You think Home Alone is the greatest movie ever made. You especially like the one scene with the old guy in the church. Home Alone would then score a 29. That's right. Nothing ever gets a 30, because something better will always come.
Now let's think of the worst movie ever - say, for whatever reason, you hate the movie Jaws III. Simple enough... it gets a zero. Why can there be a zero and no thirty? Why can there be a zero on a 1 to 30 scale? Because things can always suck.
Anyways, I fear if I drag this on any longer I will start to lose points... even more points than I lost for mentioning that I would lose points for dragging this out. So with no further ado, I urge everybody everywhere to use my new and improved ratings every second of every day.
Or at least until I can convince blogger to give me some sort of rating scale option of its own.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)