You like what I've done with the place?

I couldn't stand it any longer. Unordered lists without bullets and hyperlinks that are virtually invisible just don't do it for me, so I've changed my profile. Not sure I like this one any better, but until I can figure out how to build one of my own, I've gotta stick with a stock one. So here you go.

Carson has too much time on his hands

I've been meaning to post this video ever since it was mentioned on snopes.com last week, but I'm glad I waited. At the time, Snopes wasn't sure whether it was real or if it had been edited together from still photographs. Well, they've verified it. The lightshow was created by Carson Williams of Mason, OH. The music is broadcast over a low-power FM station to keep from disturbing his neighbors. Go ahead and watch it. See if you can keep your head from bouncing back and forth in time with the lights. Or if that music is a little too upbeat for you, try this one instead.

Je ne comprends pas.

Like most students these days, I had to study a foreign language in high school. My first choice probably would have been German, but my school only offered Spanish and French. I chose French and studied it for two years in high school; when I got to college, I studied the same two years all over again. It was never easy for me, but I muddled through it and got passing grades.

Several years later, I decided to try learning German on my own. I figured I wouldn’t get very far, because I didn’t have anybody to practice with, and because German is supposed to be such a tough language to learn (three genders, four cases, and tons of contradictory rules). I started with Barron’s Foreign Service Institute German, and later picked up Pimsleur’s comprehensive German I.

Fortunately, it looks like I was wrong. We went to Germany this summer with friends, and we weren’t always in large towns where English flowed freely. And Mike paid me a terrific compliment while we were there: “If it weren’t for Ben, I don’t think I would have eaten or peed all week.”

Hey, I’ll take compliments where I find ‘em.

I attributed my relative success in German to a few things:

• No matter how good your teacher, you just don’t get enough listening or speaking practice in a classroom, unless the other students are a lot more advanced than you.
• Pimsleur is the best method EVER for learning languages. It’s exactly the way you learned to speak English. (BTW, these aren’t cheap, but check your local library to see if they keep a copy of the CDs or tapes.)
• The internet lets me listen to honest-to-God foreign radio programs spoken by honest-to-God native speakers.

We had such a great time in Germany that we’re planning on a similar trip to France in the summer of 2007. So armed with my new-found language tools, I start brushing up on my French. This oughta be easy now, right?

Oh man, how wrong could I possibly be?

Turns out German, for all its massive quantity of grammar rules, actually follows its own rules. It’s phonetic. All nouns are capitalized always. The only diacritical mark is an umlaut, and it only ever shows up over three vowels.

French has half as many rules, but it doesn’t follow any of them consistently. The pronunciation is screwy, and I can’t keep an accent grave separate from an accent ague. And don’t get me started on cedillas. Who in their right mind could possibly think this is more sensible than German?

Ich möchte ein bier.

Heh. Heh-heh. Heh-heh-heh-hahahahahahaha!

Spellbound lingerie store in Augusta, Maine, has started putting live lingerie models in its store-front windows to attract more male shoppers, but apparently not all of the neighbors are happy.

Says one Carrie Rossignol, “It's tainting the wholesome businesses down here.”

You couldn’t make this stuff up.

Matty Cakes

My brother's bakery got a very favorable write-up in Creative Loafing this week. He must be doing something very right: he’s been getting nothing but good press and a steady stream of customers since he opened. If you're in the area, you oughta stop in and see him.

Chaos and confusion

I can't be the only one bothered by the lack of bullets in unordered lists, can I? I may just have to pick a new template.

Reach out and throttle someone

Up ‘til about a year ago, we had problems with our home phone service: we got godawful line noise whenever it rained. BellSouth continually promised us that the problem was fixed/would be fixed shortly, but we knew better. I distinctly remember yelling at customer service reps in a vain attempt to be heard over the noise.

That all changed when we got cable modem service at the house and switched the house and business lines over to Vonage. But after a few months, we noticed problems with the business fax line: namely, it didn’t work. It would drop calls or just refuse to answer them in the first place. The alleged customer support at Vonage was a joke, too. (Folks, if I’ve called you 4 times for the same problem, we don’t need to start over again by checking my fax settings. You need to find a better way of tracking customer complaints.) So one night after a bad customer service attempt that ended with me describing the problem to three different people on two continents, we decided to switch the business lines back. We left the home lines alone for the time being, because we hardly ever use the house phone, and Vonage is a lot cheaper, after all.

So I leave Grainger and start back through the rain in search of lunch, when my cell phone rings. It’s hubby. Seems Vonage cancelled one of the business lines but not all of them, and now they think they ought to be paid for 6 more months of ignoring us.

Aw, hell to the naw!

Now hubby’s strongly suggesting that I find another carrier for the house, too. So do I go back to a land line and just know I’m gonna lose my phone when it rains? Or do I sign up with a VOIP provider who’s rated lower than Vonage for customer service?

So much for shrinking my to-do list.

The best laid plans

Hubby’s in the process of painting his first car, a 1998 BMW 535. He tried to start this weekend, but he realized yesterday that he didn’t get have filter cartridges for his respirator mask. So my lunchtime errand today was Grainger Industrial Supply. So I strap on my butch suit, and away we go.

I did well: I found two of the three items on the shelf, and I found somebody at the service counter to help me with the third item. And things were pretty uneventful ‘til I was standing at the service counter and heard someone ask:

Hey, does anybody remember the name of that song Eartha Kitt sang?

At least I avoided singing it for him.

Progress even during Thanksgiving

By the way, I weighed in on Saturday morning after Thanksgiving at 218.2 lbs fully dressed. That’s down 20.8 lbs since I started Weight Watchers and 2.4 lbs for Thanksgiving week. So far, it continues to go very well. This week, I don’t expect to lose nearly so much. But I’m getting close to my 10% goal of 23.9 lbs.

Well that was exciting

Hubby and I were out running errands earlier today, one of which included picking up a load of firewood. When we're done, I'm driving his truck back to the house, and he's following me in his car.

We get maybe a mile from the house, and I'm sitting at a stoplight, about 3rd in line. When the light turns green, he pulls out from behind me, crosses the center line, and punches the gas hard. He goes sailing around me and the cars in front of me, swerves in the intersection to avoid oncoming traffic, and speeds on for another quarter-mile or so before turning into a side street.

In my 16 years of living with this man, I've never seen him do anything remotely like this. I pick up my cell phone and call him.

What happened?

There's smoke coming from my trunk.

Mind you, this is a 2006 Lexus that we we've had less than three months. (He's been driving work trucks for 15 years. We splurged this summer and bought him a nice car.) He started smelling the smoke at the intersection. When he checked the rear view mirror, he saw it pouring from around his back seat. Hence the Smokey-and-the-Bandit maneuver.

So I circle back to find out what's going on. He's already shut off the car and started off-loading the trunk, and he can't find the source. He's on hold with the dealer requesting a rollback truck. And I can smell the smoke when I get out of the truck.

So the dealer gives him another number to call for the wrecker service, and I start moving his work stuff from the car to the truck. And in the process, I find a small, burnt electronic device. It's not automotive. It's the type of computer controller module he installs in his business.

I show it to him. He stops talking to the wrecker lady, stares at it for maybe 15 seconds, and then tells her never mind. Apparently this module has a battery backup, and in the process of sliding around in the trunk, both terminals made contact with the metallic license plate frame the dealer gave him, and it shorted out.

At least it didn't cause any real damage to the car. That's all we need is for a load of free firewood to cost us a brand new car.

Just For Me(n)

You know, I probably ought to be offended. Anybody else would be. And if she hadn't tried to be nice and efficient, I probably would never have noticed. But Barbara the Publix cashier was apparently in a holiday mood, and when she rang me up, she made a point of telling me that I saved $1.39 today.

That's very nice, I think, looking at my receipt. I wonder how I did that?

Senior 5% discount $1.73-

The kicker? She wasn't even referring to the senior discount she gave me. I saved 50 cents on stuffing and 89 cents on a turkey breast.

Now I have no idea how Publix figures membership in the senior club, but at 37 years old, I hardly think I qualify. If the requirement is supposed to be 65, then Barbara has missed my age by nearly 30 years. That's a new record, even for me.

Time-waster

It's Wednesday afternoon before Thanksgiving. You're not doing anything else, are you?

Finis

Well, I had a productive lunch hour: I think I’ve finished with my angel shopping, and I finally got the photos mailed to my grandmother. Just to fill you in:

I went to the Burlington Coat Factory outlet at Discover Mills and dug through the pre-teen girls’ section. Fortunately, the pink backpack tips me off that maybe she isn’t a tomboy. (Please thank your mother for including that little detail.) However, since I’ve never met this girl or her mom, I decide to shy away from shirts with slogans like That’s Hot!, Baby Phat and, God forbid, G-Unit. I did find three pretty nice items there, for about $30 total:

• A long-sleeved pink cotton shirt, no slogan
• A white blouse
• A sweater/scarf/knit cap set in blue, white, yellow, and purple stripes.

Not bad, methinks.

I intended to pick up some shoes too, but didn’t get very far with that venture. Dress shoes or tennis shoes? Dunno. Unfortunately, the prices really aren’t that great to sway me one way or the other. But I did go look before deciding to leave this one up to mom. I also got far enough to check the sizes. I’ve had sort of a mental picture of this size 12 girl ever since I started sizing and shopping for clothes, so I’m not at all prepared to pick up the behemoth that is a size 6. DAMN! Sister’s got some clod-hoppers. Maybe she’s part Amazon.

That still left me a little room to shop for a couple more incidentals. Books are out, since I don’t know what she likes to read. Hmm… what kind of stocking stuffers did I get as a kid? Puzzles & brainteasers come to mind. I also thought about some kind of art-related project. I run this idea by my coworker (she has exclusive access to the dark world that is an adolescent female mind, having had such a mind once) and she suggests the art project. Off to my next stop…

Plaid Factory Outlet. I acquired a small, whitewashed birdhouse, a set of outdoor paints, brushes, and three or four stencil sets (girl stuff like purses, shoes, flowers, birds, hearts, etc). I also picked up inkpads -- pink, yellow, blue, black -- and several rubber stamps:

• A sun
• Stars
• Winnie the Pooh with Piglet (and some schmarmy phrase about little friends)
• Winnie the Pooh on his back with Tigger standing on his belly
• A stamp that says “You go, girl!” Couldn’t resist that one.
• A very ornate letter I (her first initial), like you might see in some overly-illuminated medieval manuscript

I stayed in the bargain bin for this stop, but I think I came out like a bandit. The birdhouse was $3. Inkpads & stamps, about $1 each. Paints, $2. Brush set, $2. Stencils, ten cents each.

So how did this stack up against my budget? Well, that depends on how you count it. I fixed an initial budget amount in my head early on, and then I adjusted it when I was struggling with the WalMart-or-expensive-bike debate. After buying the cheap bike, I decided to raise my limit by another $20… and I did OK. By my calculations, I’m about $2 under that amount.

And the mood-o-meter? Well, tomorrow’s Thanksgiving, and I don’t hate anybody right now. And for me, that’s another accomplishment altogether.

Cross-posting for fun and profit

I just posted this on the Small Bidness forums at about.com. Normally I wouldn't just copy and paste it here, but since I'm looking for a solution, and the only person I'm cross-posting is myself... away we go!

We own a small business with 6 to 8 employees at any time. We also own the building where we are located, a 15,000 square-foot warehouse at the end of a short industrial cul-de-sac. In addition to our business, we also use the building to house a few collector cars that we own, and we store a 20-foot trailer (which we use for business and to tow our cars to shows) in the parking lot.

In April, someone broke into our trailer and stole a 1965 Chevrolet that we were preparing to take to a show. (It was recovered a few weeks later.) Since then, we’ve left the trailer unlocked and we don’t store anything else on it, but I’ve found the doors and latches opened several times. We’ve always used a “Gorilla-Guard” style trailer hitch lock, and we’ve started backing the trailer up against a security light pole, but somebody’s still plundering.

It seems we need a video security system, but I’d like to get the best value I can. I’m thinking about the following things:

1. a camera mounted inside the building to watch the entire parking lot
2. a second, outdoor camera (wireless?) mounted on the security pole so we can get the tag numbers of any cars that leave our lot.
3. A video recorder with a long recording loop, so that if someone breaks in on Friday evening, and I don’t find it ‘til Monday morning, we still have a chance of finding them.

Does anyone have any experience with this kind of trouble? Any pointers or suggestions on where to find such a system?

Thanks!

Frightening update

When the turducken showed up this week in Preteena, I assumed Allison Barrows was a homestarrunner.com fan. Sadly, I can't assume that anymore. It's not a concoction from the King of Town, and it's not a legend. According to wikipedia, the turducken exists. Somebody pass the Maalox.

Life in the fishbowl

Lately I’ve been having more than my standard amount change, and it’s mostly been for the better. New cube, new company, new hat… somebody cue Patti LaBelle. But there’s one change that just can’t live with. Apparently my new cube isn’t quite level, so my door has two default positions: all-the-way closed, or wide-the-fuck open. And my apologies if you were expecting a show, but I’m not an exhibitionist.

I don’t see any easy way to adjust the door, so I checked with my admin. She’s going to see if she can get it fixed. If not, I did a little searching online yesterday. A couple of options: loosen one of the hinges in the frame and slide a chunk of cardboard in behind it. (The goal is to either level the door or maybe even make it swing the other way.)

The other option? Take the pins out of the hinges and whack them with a hammer. So they won’t swing so easily.

Addicted already

Wow. Three weeks ago I was wondering how I would ever find enough info to fill this space. Now I can’t believe I went a whole day without posting. Apparently blogging isn’t a gateway drug; it’s the hard stuff.

So yesterday I made it into the new cube with very little fanfare. All my boxes and cables are here, and everything seems to be working. Including the TV I had in my old cube, which sat there gathering dust for way too long. (Believe it or not, I have a business need for it. Sort of.) New cube: it’s up and running. And ESPN2 is playing some strong man competition…

I’m sorry, what were we talking about?

Woo freakin' hoo

I'm trying to avoid a thing called Getting My Ass In A Sling Because I'm Blogging About Work, so we'll keep on keeping this nameless.

Checking out the benefits for the new employer. Not only will I get 20 days a year to do with as I see fit (personal, vacation, sick time), but they offer domestic partner benefits. No wonder they're consistently listed as one of the 30 best companies to work for in the USA.

I feel vindicated

Last night at dinner, I made the horrible mistake of saying Liar! Give me back my shoes! to a group of people who had no idea what I was talking about. I ‘splained that the quote came from some old music video, but apparently I was the only person there who watched MTV in the mid-80s.

I feel better now. The song was This Note’s For You by Neil Young, and the scene in question parodied an old Calvin Klein Obsession ad. Here’s a crappy low-quality verification of my sanity.

BTW, the line was spoken by a woman in response to a pretty boy claiming Forgive me, but I’m prettier than all of you. Does anybody know if that woman was Justine Bateman?

What Ben Needs

Props to Molly for this idea. Google the phrase "[your first name] needs" and see what you come up with:

Ben needs money for art supplies
What Ben needs right now more than anything else is for the Boston Red Sox to win the World Series.
Ben needs to be noticed, recognized, appreciated, adored and worshiped.
Ben needs to develop step-by-step approaches to academic work.
Ben needs to learn to Play Purposefully with Toys.
I'm sure they'll think I'm awful because I think Ben needs a special education class.
Ben needs more than friendly advice.
Ben needs to talk with a professional counselor about his problems.
Ben needs to use lambda to make a procedure. [I wonder if we should codify something?]
Ben needs to have routines explained ahead.
Ben needs to learn to Pull Himself to a Standing Position.
Ben needs to be an only cat as other cats make him feel insecure.
Ben needs a mohawk.
Ben needs to refuel in midair.
Ben needs help with removing an internal wall.
Ben needs to send a secret word to his fellow patriots.
Big Ben needs to stop so the faithful can hear the call to prayer.
Ben needs to learn his left from his right.
Ben needs a towel snap sound effect for the joke punchlines.
Ben needs very specific, concrete examples of when and where certain language should be used.
Ben needs transitional support when there is a change in routine and/or schedule.
Ben needs his orange hat, Milo wants to sleep with his shoes on, Ben needs a specific book to sleep with, Milo can't get comfortable on his pillow. [Who is this Milo interloper?]
Ben needs to show that at least one of his arguments is sound on its own and he has failed to do so. [Yeah, well, get in line for that one.]
Ben needs a home with a secure yard or daily trips to a Dog Park so he can run without getting into trouble.

At least we're not related. I don't think.

So I ditty-bop over to fark.com and read a headline You know you live in a redneck town when the police blotter has a story about a woman attacking her husband with a curtain rod, and two idiots throwing coffee cups, etc at the local Waffle House (2nd & 3rd arrests down). And I think, "Hey, this might be pretty good. I wonder where..."

Oh no.

Best. Boss. Ever.

Couple of things going on today:

First of all, today’s the big move. By 5:00, all my stuff will be in boxes, and tomorrow morning I’ll report to my new cube in the next building over. As you may expect, this has done nothing for my productivity, for a couple of days now.

Also, the news hit on Friday: my employer (a few thousand employees; you’ve probably heard of us but have no idea what we do) will probably be purchased by a major corporation (you’d know exactly who they are and what they do) early next year.

It's already a short week. One of my co-workers is currently skiing in Reno. In Atlanta it’s cold and rainy, and we ALL want to be somewhere else. So my boss takes me and my other co-worker to Starbucks. Her treat.

Mmm, chai latte makes it all better.

What I'm reading now

Update: Welcome to the good folks from The Friends of English Magic! My comments about Jonathan Strange were originally meant as a tip for my sister who asked for suggestions for books to read. If I'd known I would become a real, honest-to-God book reviewer, I might have written a real, honest-to-God review. I found the book a few weeks ago while visiting Barnes & Noble with a friend. I wasn't looking for a new read at the time (we were there for him), but he put the book under my arm and assured me that I needed to read it. He was absolutely right: if you've ever enjoyed a writer for her ability to turn a phrase, you'll love this book.

And you say they're making it into a movie? Hmm...

I'm posting this for my little sister, who has asked for book suggestions. None of these are really mysteries, per se... unless you stretch the definition of mystery 'til it loses all sense of elasticity. But they are all mystical. Also, none of these are easy reads, but they're every one worth the effort.

First up, my current read: Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell. First novel by an Englishwoman named Susanna Clarke. A fictional tale of England's two greatest magicians of the early 19th-century. Reads a lot like Dickens:

She did not rise at their entrance, nor make any sign that she had noticed them at all. But perhaps she did not hear them. For, though the room was silent, the silence of half a hundred cats is a peculiar thing, like fifty individual silences all piled one on top of another.

Or try this exchange between Mr. Norrell and his servant Childermass:

...A short while later Childermass arrived to attend to the morning's business. He read Mrs Godesdone's letter and inquired what answer Mr Norrell intended to return to it?

"A refusal," said Mr Norrell.

"Indeed? And shall I say that you have a prior engagement?" asked Childermass.

"Certainly, if you wish," said Norrell.

"And do you have a prior engagement?" asked Childermass.

"No," said Mr Norrell.

"Ah!" said Childermass. "Then perhaps it is the overabundance of your engagements on other days that makes you refuse this one?" You fear to be too tired?"

"I have no engagements. You know very well that I do not." Mr Norrell read for another minute or two before remarking (apparently to his book), "You are still here."

See? Not for everybody, but full of good, dry, English wit.

Two others you'll need to check out:
An Instance of the Fingerpost, by Iain Pears. Set in Oxford during the time of Cromwell. An excellent study of how different people can study the same facts and draw different conclusions. By far the hardest read of the bunch, but absolutely worth it in the payoff.

Foucault's Pendulum, by Umberto Eco. Haven't read it? Get thee to a Barnes & Noble, tout de suite. I don't care if you're working. You need to leave NOW.

In case there was any doubt I'm a dork. But hey, it runs in the family.

Seems I'm not alone after all

Apparently, even Allison Barrows reads Homestarrunner.

I'm just glad it wasn't me

This is both wrong and immoral on so many levels: the concept, the set-up, the execution, the victim... and yet, it's the best link you'll click on all day. You'll need to have your sound turned up. And go pee before you watch it.

And don't pretend you'd be all brave through this. Jon had a nelly-mary fit when a tree frog tried to get cozy a few months back.

I can say that, because I would too.

What do you want me to be?

My department is moving to a new location next week, which means that this week we’re cleaning out many years' worth of junk from our cubes. I spent the better part of my morning going through maybe 15 reams of old papers and removing old staples, binder clips, and paper clips. Just before lunch, a co-worker stopped by my desk and started laughing because I had divided my organizational accessories into the several distinct piles:

Hanging file folders
Great big binder clips (GBBCs)
Medium binder clips
Small binder clips
Itty bitty binder clips (IBBCs)
Standard paper clips
Giant paper clips

Staples and regular file folders were in the trash.

For some bizarre reason, I’ve got an incurable need to organize only certain parts of my life. (Case in point: my house at this moment is the proverbial train-wreck.) This trait was first brought to my attention years ago when I was playing CDs for a friend. He noticed that I carefully put each CD back in its case and spun it around so that the design was upright while we were talking and without looking at the CD. He started pulling CDs at random off my shelf and checking them. All of them were upright in their cases except one. It was perfectly upside-down.

Of all the things to obsess about, why couldn’t it be something that makes me money?

No good deed

Today is exactly the reason I hate winters in Atlanta. Yeah yeah, I know I could be in Wisconsin, in which case I would have plenty to bitch about. But it was 65 degrees and raining before sunrise this morning. As I write this, it’s 53 degrees. By tomorrow morning, it’s going to be 27.

How, I ask you, am I supposed to dress for days like this?

So with that frame of reference, I left my office nearly two hours ago with three objectives:

1. Print some photos of my trip to Germany this summer to send to my grandmother.
2. Obtain item #2 on my Christmas Angel scavenger hunt list: a pink backpack
3. Get lunch

First stop: Walgreen’s, because they proudly proclaim that you can print photos from any media in the world, whatever you happen to have. Until you spend half-an-hour loading photos on your USB flash memory stick. Then, of course, you show up to find that their photo computer doesn’t have a USB port. Strike one.

Second stop: The backpack quest. I know some school systems have banned opaque backpacks for safety reasons. Wal-mart to the rescue again: they sell a clear plastic backpack with pink stitching. This gives my angel a bonus: even if her school has restrictions, she won’t have to leave this backpack at home. I know. I’m so thoughtful it scares me.

So I drive cross-town and ask my friendly Wal-mart associate where to find girl’s backpacks. She gives me a one-word answer, and – no lie – the word is lingerie. Apparently I stared at her like she’d just sprouted horns, because she clarified: they’re with the women’s purses, which is next to lingerie. It seems I’m not going to get out of this without confronting my fear of boobies.

In the lingerie section, I find their pittance of backpacks. The only one that’s remotely pink is tiny, cheap, and has some cartoon character on it. Obviously, no self-respecting 11-year-old will want to be seen with this. Strike two. Oh well. I found one at Ross the other day, if it’s still there. Back to the car so that I can spend my dwindling lunch hour driving across town again.

There’s really only one place to grab lunch between Wal-mart and Ross, and it’s McDonald’s. I don’t like it, but I should be able to find something remotely healthy on their menu.

Dear McDonald’s,

In my enduring quest to find healthy food that doesn’t suck, I must let you know that I’ve been disappointed again: your Grilled Chicken Classic still ain’t it. How it is that you let me drive away from your restaurant with 9 points worth of chewy, wet, used tire rubber that’s been assaulted by too much black pepper, I’ll never know. And then the bunu in the drive-thru gave me a coca-cola instead of a diet coke. I don’t know how you sleep at night.

P.S. If chicky ever again hands me a bag without a napkin in it, I’m going to chase her down and wipe my mouth on her head.

We’ll make that strike three, shall we?

Stop four: Ross. Got the backpack, finally, but not before encountering a few other people who need to be run over by their own cars:

1. People who drive too slow.
2. People who ignore traffic signs that say “keep moving."
3. People who position themselves in my blind spot and refuse to move one way or the other.

I’m thinking Ebenezer Scrooge got it right.

Oh, bunu? Remind me to tell you what that means sometime.

At least we’re saving money. No, wait…

In Fort Collins, CO, the number of traffic accidents has nearly doubled at an intersection where traffic light cameras were installed. This isn't an isolated report, either: a similar study by KATU TV in Portland, OR, found that rear-end collisions jumped 140% after the cameras were installed. My home county (Gwinnett, Georgia) has just started installing these things, and I’m supposed to feel good about this?

From Boortz today

Anybody up for a game of O'Reilly Bingo?

Huh?

Southern California, I get. Myrtle Beach, fine. Orlando… duh. But Discover Mills in Duluth, GA? IN the mall, behind the Starbucks? Jousting? With horsies??

Swordfight, anyone?

You won't get it. Trust me.

There’s a new Strong Bad email today. I’m the only person I know who gets this, and I can't for the life of me understand why. If you don't know Strong Bad, today’s episode is a particularly sketchy place to dive in. Check out two of his classics here and here. Or if you're feeling particularly adventuresome, go here and click on random.bat.

Back from the beach

I've decided Fort Lauderdale agrees with me. Well, except for that whole hurricane thing.

Still wish I'd had a chance to make it to Haulover Beach, though. Oh well. Maybe next time.

This moonbat is really getting tired

And he wanted to be the Republican nominee for President in 1988.

"I'd like to say to the good citizens of Dover. If there is a disaster in your area, don't turn to God, you just rejected Him from your city. And don't wonder why He hasn't helped you when problems begin, if they begin. I'm not saying they will, but if they do, just remember, you just voted God out of your city. And if that's the case, don't ask for His help because he might not be there." - Pat Robertson.

Dover's sin? They decided not to waste time in science class on religion.

At least they’ve got their priorities straight

Does anybody doubt why southern schools continue to lag so far behind the rest of the nation?

Another town and one more show

Well, I’ve acquired the first gift for my angel, so I guess I’m committed now. I started with the bicycle, so everything else should be downhill from here. And in the end, my corporate conscience lost out to my sense of budget: I got the girl’s mountain bike from Wal-Mart. I spent a little less than half of my target amount, so I can spend a little more on the other stuff without breaking my bank account. Madame Director Honeylips (financial maven that she is) would be so proud.

Maybe this was just God's will?

Well, duh.

When did he possibly decide this was a good idea?

This video is wrong on so many levels. Thank god this one got Stupid out of his system without getting behind the wheel of a car. Oh, not safe for work.

How about a tea party to celebrate?

Congratulations, Sandy Springs, for making sure that you get a little representation to go along with your taxation.

Wow

I take it all back, WSB. You alerted me this morning that Kate Bush has a new release out today. Not just a new CD, but a new double-CD. I forgive you for just about everything (except maybe Richard Sangster).

I haven't been this excited about an unexpected new CD since The Manhattan Transfer released The Offbeat of Avenues in 1991.

Oh, get over it. I'm a gay boy.

Update: This is good. This is really really good. I'm on the last track of the first disc now. This is Kate Bush as I remember her, in all her glorious chaos.

What to do, what to do?

Apparently this Santa Claus thing is tougher than I thought. I’ve set myself a budget to spend on my Salvation Army Angel, but I’d like to able to get the things she asked for (a bicycle and a pink backpack), plus maybe a sweater and a blouse and whatever-else-it-is-that-11-year-old-girls want. My co-worker suggested that I start at Wal-Mart for the bicycle, and after a preliminary search online, it looks they may indeed be the cheapest. Trouble is, I harbor a distinct dislike for that place, mainly because they have a record of eminent domain abuse. (Alabaster, Alabama comes to mind.)

I checked them out at lunch. Looks like a 24” girls bike starts at around $53.73. The next best cost from another retailer jumps into the $70 range. So now I’m trying to decide, do I bump up the budget and shop my conscience? Or do I just buy the cheapest bike and feel better about my Santa complex? I've got some time left, so I guess I'll keep comparison-shopping for now.

I also stopped by the girls’ clothing for a couple of reasons: to get some ideas, and to better visualize the child I’m buying for. But when you’re big and hairy and 40-ish, and you have no visible children in tow, and you’re shopping in the little girls’ section in the first week of November, people tend to look at you like you’re a perv. And it doesn’t help that Wal-Mart puts their lingerie just a few feet away. I made a serious misstep and ended up face-to-face with a wall full of 38DDs.

Progress

My partner and I joined Weight Watchers a few weeks ago… October 8, to be exact. That morning, I weighed in at 239 lbs. This past Saturday, I was 224.2. That’s nearly 15 pounds in 4 weeks. And I can still have beer, carrot cake, and pizza with just about everything on it. If I can keep up this rate, I should be rid of my pot belly and love handles for the first time in my life by early spring. And if that happens I'm never putting on another shirt again.

They oughta love that at work.

I thought that was Lucas

To the good folks at Twinings: Can I ask what stroke of marketing brilliance led to your decision to package your Prince Of Wales tea in a black wrapper? Are you trying to get people to subconsciously call it Prince Of Darkness?

What is this, how do you say, "sound salvation?"

I hate everybody.

This isn’t news, not to anyone who knows me. Every so often, I have one of those days when I realize that exactly everyone pisses me off. They used to happen a lot more frequently than they do now, until I stopped taking a certain very common allergy medication. Funny thing, but I don’t see “bitchiness” listed among their side effects. Oh well. (Funnier thing: Microsoft’s spell checker not only knows the word bitchy, it knows that you change the y to an i when you add –ness.)

But today is one of those days. I’m going to blame part of it on the dire state of AM radio. I got XM radio last year, but I keep my alarm clock set to an AM station for local news. Egads, but they suck.

Stop snickering, FM. You suck even harder.

And Sirius is probably OK, but apparently they have plans to add a channel of all Springsteen, all the time. They've already got similar channels dedicated to Jimmy Buffett and the Rolling Stones. That oughta give you the jibblies.

Where The Boys Are ‘05

My partner and I have decided to head down to the Endless Summer (a Lambda Car Club grand invitational in Ft. Lauderdale) next weekend. He’ll be driving down in our 1972 Olds 98 Regency on Thursday morning; I’ll be flying down Thursday night. It should be a great event – the host hotel is the Sheraton Yankee Trader on the beach, and we’ve got a separate parking garage reserved for our show.

This will be my second trip to Ft. Lauderdale. In 1996 we struck out to drive down for five days of lounging on the beach. We stayed in an inn that had just sold, whose new owners hadn’t yet figured out how to run an inn, and the sun spent most of the week behind a 30% chance of rain. We finally decided to come back a day early. This trip has got to be an improvement.

Move over, Mr. Grinch

I hate Christmas. Thanksgiving too. I have for years. That hasn’t always been the case, mind you. When I was a kid I loved Christmas as much as anybody, but something changed a few years back, and I’m not sure what it was. I told a friend last year that I would gladly give up a third of my life if I could just skip the last four months of each year. Give me January through August and I’m happy. Keep the rest of it.

So just before Christmas last year, I noticed one of my co-workers had a bunch of toys and other presents in her office. There was a bike parked in the hall. She was humming and playing with the toys, and she looked so damned happy. And I know she doesn’t have kids so I figured maybe these were for a nephew or something. Turns out she adopted an angel from the Salvation Army Angel Tree program. She set herself a budget and then spent a few weeks trying to see how much bang she could get for her buck while making sure this kid had a decent Christmas. She was quite proud of the bike she found (Wal-Mart) and the tennis shoes (new, from Ebay) and all the other stuff she found. Including all that damned happiness.

I promised her I would sign up with her this year. And on Tuesday, when our company announced the program again, she stopped by my desk to remind me. (Funny thing, though. I didn’t need the reminder at all.) So I’m buying for an 11 year old girl who wants a bike and a pink backpack. We have to turn in our donations by December 7. If you want to keep track of my progress, keep checking back here. I’ll let you know what I find for her.

Progress

Bourbocam is back online.

Funniest Halloween experience I’ve had in a while

I was at home Monday night handing out candy to trick-or-treaters while my other half worked late at his office.

Oh, let me interrupt myself here to deliver a PSA:

Dear trick-or-treaters,

What gives with the numbers? Do you all decide en masse to assault a new neighborhood every year? Last year, I had maybe 6 or 8 kids and calories untold left over. This year, I was blowing out pumpkins and turning off lights at 7:45 so I could make another Publix run. Could we maybe institute a reservation system, so I have an idea how much candy to purchase? Thank you.

So about 7:15 I open the door to find two little boys about 10 years old. One was dressed as a Cub Scout (I guess because the outfit was already hanging in his closet). The other was dressed as a hillbilly: checked shirt, straw hat, overalls, the works. Hillbilly is carrying a plush Donkey (from the Shrek movies) and a plastic machete. When I open the door, Cub Scout yells “Trick Or Treat!!”

At that moment, Hillbilly held the knife up to the Donkey's throat and yelled "STAND BACK!! I'VE GOT A HOSTAGE AND I KNOW HOW TO USE IT!!!"

That boy’s gonna need therapy.

With apologies to James Stockdale

I have no clue what I'm doing here. I have lots of other things going on in my life... so many that I can't really devote enough time to getting any of them done. Maybe I'm just your classic over-achiever. Yeah, let's go with that.

As I write this, I'm at work, and I have beaucoup work to plow through, which brings me back to that question Why am I here? And the answer is that I still have no clue. I mean, there are few other blogs that I read every day, but I don't know that I'll have the time or energy to publish my own. But my friend Jon just started a blog, and I'm following along. Because yes, Mom, if Jon jumped off a cliff, I'd have to follow him.

You know, if I'd started earlier this week, I could have begun by saying Today is Halloween... (which is cool) or Today is All Saints' Day... (which is possibly even cooler). But today is Wednesday, November 2, 2005. Not nearly as impressive, but there you go. I'm nothing if not a procrastinator.

There's a lot more I could say about myself, but I'll let you figure that out as we go. Suffice it to say that I write for a living (boring, nonfiction stuff, but it pays the bills). Let's see how long I can make my life appear interesting to the casual observer.