Category: general

Where I put something when I’m too lazy to categorize it.

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yuppie vs. hippie

Damage.Dude, could we have an image that portrays sadness any better than this? I mean my God people, did you camp out next to this poor kid’s kin with your finger on the shutter ready to create a graven image the second this man’s heart breaks? You can see the combination of sleepless nights and pure agony in his red-rimmed eyes… and the whole thing comes to us in vivid Chromavision thanks to the well-meaning folks at the AP. I understand the motivation, it just sucks that this poor guy has to mourn his son on the front pages of millions of websites and newspapers. Sorry Mr. Sun-il.

Tonight my co-workers from Taiwan were in town, and my boss and I took them out for dinner. After dinner bossman headed home early and I took the boys out for some beers at a local bar. It was actually really cool, being the sole US “host.” Good “face time” and general “team-building.” Man, I sound like just another suit eh? Well whatever, I see that kinda think as a good chance to build up relationships that might get me somewhere someday. The more of the APAC brethren that know my name and enjoy hanging out with me, the more my name gets out as a good US host. Can’t hurt, right?

What’s happened to me?… so career-minded and self-motivated. The yuppie in me is in a constant battle with the hippie in me. Like those old cartoons where there’s a devil on Pluto’s left shoulder telling him to bite Goofy in the ass, and an angel on his right admonishing him to not. Except on my right shoulder there’s a twenty-something in a sweater-vest sitting on an Ikea sofa watching Moneyline with Lou Dobbs, and on my right shoulder there’s a patchouli-drenched, flannel-sporting, dreadlocked and unshaven mod sitting on a yoga mat in the grass at a MM&W or SCI show. Don’t get my Lou Dobbs or acronymed band references? Congrats, you’re neither yuppie nor hippie – and are most likely a square. Now back to your regularly scheduled romance-novel, MTV, and Top 40 radio please. Dang, sorry… got a little harsh there…

There’s been a serious lack of tunage lately… and I’m feeling the pain. I mean, the last stellar albums that graced my stereo are now becoming quite stale. One can only listen to Modest Mouse and Iron & Wine so many times before you just get tired. So lately I’ve been going back in time and revisiting some old favorites, hitting some old Death Cab, Decemberists, and Wrens for good measure. It’s not new, but it’s a constant… and sounds fresh to reminiscent ears. Hopefully someone will come out with a blow-away LP soon, because I’m getting worried that I’ve either lost my knack for finding the rad noise – or the scene is drying up, neither of which are good.

I missed a day of blogging again, I just end up running out of time. With all the recent holes in my one-a-day plan, I’m wondering if I’ll ever get back on task. I tend to do OK when things are slower at work – but as it is I just don’t feel like filling in the days with crappy crap. So I’m gonna keep on writing when I can write, instead of writing just to fill up a day. I mean, I need precious time to come up with stuff like the Ikea and Moneyline gags above… that shit doesn’t just write itself people.

I’m out of words, until whenever… Dave out.

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I can already see through walls

The buiding blocks of proteins.
You have to wonder why the Lord, our God, would make the tissue of the human mouth and throat so much sturdier than that of the anus. I mean, it stands to reason that man will eat things that are at a spice-level which he can handle. Only problem is, what I can safely handle on one end don’t translate too well to what I can handle when it’s headed in the other direction. I loves me some spicy food, the hotter the better, and if you don’t then you’re a pussy. I had these awesomely spicy Chinese noodles for dinner the other night, and I swear I was almost crying on the toilet at work today. First off, I was on the toilet at work, which doesn’t happen unless we have a level-seven or above situation – so that fact alone is telling in the ferocity of this movement. It was one of those sweat and headache inducing ones, where right in the middle of it all – you’re not sure but you think you might puke instead of colon-explode. Anyway, I’m not one to go into gory detail, so I’ll leave you with the generalities lest you are easily grossed out.

I’m trying to write early tonight because I’m dead tired for some reason, I should be ripping CDs right now but I’m not. Sitting here listening to the new Badly Drawn Boy album, trying to make myself like it – and it’s just not happening. I mean, it’s good and all – but it’s nothing compared to his previous efforts (I mean, if you ask me). That kinda disappointed me, but I guess you don’t get what you don’t pay for. And being that I rarely pay for any music these days, my expectations probably shouldn’t be that high. Anyway, there seem to be a few good tracks on here, but nothing to write home about. Write a paragraph on the web about, now that’s a different story. Ugh.

Ben will be here soon and we’ll go running. I don’t want to run tonight, but I will because I’m trying to make my fat go away and get into better shape. So far, I’ve got nothing to show for it but some sore feet and the occasional calf cramp walking up the stairs at work. It’s gotta be much easier to just get signed up to go on Survivor or Pioneer House or something, ’cause running sucks. I see Ben, here he comes, he’s gonna wanna run right now. He’s walking to the door, there’s no escape now. I gotta put on my shoes.

See, on the blog you’d think I was just hitting enter and starting a new paragraph. But in real life, hours have passed, running has been done, and I’m now sitting here wrapping up the evening and listening to some Quicksilver Messenger Service. When I was at my brother’s place last weekend, I was amazed by the amount of crap he and Angela take. She works at GNC, so they’re both total health freaks – and take every kind of supplement known to man. Amino acids, vitamins, proteins, fruit enzymes, you name it and they take it. Although they’re not really into herbs, they do seem to go for any vitamin or supplement that can be extracted/concentrated and squished into pill form. It’s a daily regimen of protein smoothies and upwards of twenty pills – no joke.

The bottle of Jager is on the shirt, not part of the daily routine.

While I was there, Angela managed to sell me on GNC’s Centrum-like multivitamin. It gives me all the “recommended daily value” things I need, and contains some amino acids and stuff that’s not in Centrum – plus (and according to Angela, this is the real plus) it’s time-released. I used to take Centrum, so it’s not that much of a stretch that I’d buy into this vitamin mumbo-jumbo. Anyway, the GNC multivitamin (which, awesomely, is called “Mega Men”) has had lycopene for like, ever… and Centrum just added it. I mean, c’mon people… get with it. When you gonna pull your heads out of your asses and start eating glutamine shakes with your flax seed cereal and soy milk?! Sheesh. I mean, if it wasn’t for all the Viagra and Phen-Phen knockoff wonder-drugs they sell, you could almost mistake them for a real store. I’m happy with my vitamins though, and I can already see through walls.. so they must work at least a little.

Dave out.

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stumble through turtle-paced motions

Bitch.!
Lately, I just can’t seem to find time to write every night. I’m hoping it’s not a permanent thing – and I can see my schedule is lightening up in a couple weeks. Right now I just think I’m slammed at work and when I get home I’m just void of ideas. The two days I didn’t write last week, I sat down and wrote into paragraphs but just couldn’t come up with any meat. When I sit there staring at the screen trying to think of something to write to be funny or insightful, it’s a doomed entry. So in that situation I usually just give up and don’t write anything. I did, however, like what entries I managed to come up with last week – so maybe it’s a quality vs. quantity thing.

Didn’t do a dang thing on the yard this weekend, opted to “have fun” instead. Friday night we had some sushi and took in a showing of “Supersize Me” at the Crest. What a fun movie. If you haven’t heard of it, it’s a documentary following some dude who chooses to go on an “all McDonalds” diet for 30 days. The film chronicles his health and life for these 30 days. It’s a great flick if you have a chance to go see it, McDonalds must freakin’ hate it… makes them look terrible. Saturday Sharaun and I tried to do some “spring cleaning” around the house, which amounted to dusting. Party at Justin’s/Pat’s/Ben’s Saturday night and then wakeboarding on Sunday. A fun weekend, but not terribly productive. With lots of travel and vacation coming up, the next few months are action-packed. Where did that sentence come from?

What in the world is up with checkout people these days? It seems like cashiers at every discount store and supermarket take lessons in “slow as hell” or something. Honestly, I was in Wal Mart Saturday, and the dude at the register was picking up each item one by one, looking them over as if he was evaluating them for his own future purchases. He’d then take a leisurely swipe or two over the UPC reader, only to turn his whole body and stack them neatly for eventual bagging. This whole painful process was repeated over and over in slow motion. It was all I could do not to yell at the guy, who wasn’t even retarded or anything (not that that would stop me from yelling at him… what?). When I was a cashier, and there were people in my line, I would freakin’ race through the items. The only delays came from the old ladies who still believed a personal check is the most convenient form of payment. On top of all that, they don’t say a damn word to you when you finally reach the front of the line – nothing. They just stumble through the turtle-paced motions and ask if you want cash back. Places should base these peoples’ pay on throughput, not just showing up for work.

I’m out.

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make sure my beer’s not empty

How do you say en Francais?
No internet at my brother’s place means no entry for Friday. Now worries though, as I’m trying to get “back at it” and keep the juice flowin’. The weekend was really fun, getting to hang out with my brother and his wife (still sounds funny to me) was cool. On Friday night we stayed up late talking, kinda letting each other in on those “missing years” when I was away at school and he was a working-man back home. For more than two years there, I had no idea what he was up to – and him the same for me. I thought I got into a lot of trouble when I was a kid… but damn. Anyway, it was great. Even though Frank and I are about as different as two brothers can be – we still have a lot in common that we can talk about and agree on. I’m glad I got to spend some time with him, and he and Angela seem genuinely happy. I got a mini-tour of where he works on Ft. Hood, and a glimpse into what he does every day – it was great. My little brother ain’t so little anymore, all grow’d up with a wife and a job and everything. That shit still trips me out.

So now I’m sitting here in the Continental terminal at George Bush Airport in Houston, drinking a tall Shiner Bock in some airport seafood joint. It was the only non-food-court place where I could sit down and have my food brought to me, which is much more conducive to sitting here typing away on the laptop. Someone to come check and make sure my beer’s not empty, and no one to bother me while I wait for my flight (about three hours and counting, if you’re curious). Nevermind that I look like some nerd, typing on his laptop in a restaurant, while watching America’s Funniest Home Videos on the TV, nothing but a big ol’ beer in terms of sustenance in front of me. See? I certainly haven’t analyzed the situation.

I think I could get used to this solo traveling gig. I mean if I were unattached, of course. I kind of like the anonymity of sitting alone in a booth and just “observing” stuff. Not Sherlock Holmes type observing, just, y’know, checkin’ junk out. It’s kind of a good feeling to be wholly responsible for yourself, making sure you budget enough time to make your flight, return your rental car, eat some food, etc. Guys, I’m kinda buzzed right now? this Shiner was biiig, and I haven’t ordered yet because I still have like two whole hours before I can board the flight. When I do order, here at “Bubba’s Seafood Grill,” I think I’m gonna get one of “Bubba’s Favorites,” namely – the “Buffalo Popcorn Shrimp Platter.” I mean, I’ve been mulling this decision for a good twenty minutes now as I downed this beer, so I think I’m prepared to take the plunge and go with it.

Hey original Cyn… I heard you talking to your sister and your roommate at the pool party, I have super-hearing y’know. So for you, I finally cleaned it up and uploaded it – now I think you owe me sex (or at least something sexual in nature). (I know, the picture is broken). And thanks Benz for the praise on my last entry, I too fancied that paragraph as one of my finest… in a league with the desert island paragraph I’m so proud of.

Time to eat my scrimps, Dave out.

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a peg-leg too

It's cyclical.
So it appears I’m going to Houston next week to meet with some customers. I got to thinking, and turns out my brother is stationed only a two hour drive from Houston. Since I’m coming in on a Thursday and was planning on leaving Friday – I think I’m just going to make my return flight on Sunday and head up to spend the weekend with him. Should be cool, since he leaves to build roads in America’s only rainforest the very next weekend. Right now work is at a peak, with everything conveniently converging on next week – which I’ve dubbed “hell week.” I will rock hell week though, I have no fear.

As predicted, I’ve become totally addicted to PBS’ new “reailtyducation” series “Colonial House.” I’ve written before about my affinity for these series, and this one doesn’t disappoint. I think find them “acceptable” reality programming because there’s no unnecessary drama or Real World-esque bullshit. Not to mention, they’re chock-full of awesome history goodness. No ex-football players giving roses to doe-eyed, streetcorner-clad golddiggers; no diving into entrails to gather enough gold coins to beat the other team; and no one getting voted off as part of a grand strategy. Just learnin’ and hardship, what more could you ask for? PBS rocks, makes me feel all Linuxy when I watch it.

Have you guys seen this new “cleric” they’ve indicted? You know, the one who supposedly built some crazy terrorist training camp in Oregon, of all places. I mean, this guy is a seriously mean looking dude. One insane eye that’s got the crazy-glaze and seems to be permanently on the lookout for enemies approaching from the left. A freakin’ hook for a right hand. And a crazy unkempt shaggy beard to top it all off. Who knows, until we see a picture of him from the waist down – I’m gonna say he has a peg-leg too, he certainly seems injury-prone enough. Allah not really lookin’ out for you eh Abu?

Maybe you’re just not terrorist enough, get more terrorist – that might help. No, I’m joking (lest people think I’m one of those “they’re all terrorists” idiots, it’s only comedy people). Anyway, I can’t see this guy recruiting anyone, let alone a bunch or tree-hugging Oregonian hippies who can’t pump their own gas. If this guy approached me in my mosque about coming to hang out at his cool “ranch” and learning to shoot guns – I’d probably bust him over the head with a bottle of rum and try to steal his treasure map. Pirate-looking loony.


“With my good eye I will see the infidels! I will then hobble to them on my good leg and pummel them with my good hand! Fear me!!.”

Well, it’s 11:30pm here and we’re on a marathon-run of Colonial House. Happy birthday dad, feel better mom! G’night blog faithful. Dave out.

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cheesecake charity

Lord, thank you for this dairy treat. Oh, and these laws and rules and junk.
Written for yesterday and never posted:

Oregon, Tuesday night. Sitting here in the hotel room watching Willie Wonka on AMC. For reals, this movie is great. I’ve always been attracted to movies and stories that have some element of the fantastic. Fantasy, absurdity, these have always been my favorite narrative elements (either on screen or in print). Anyway, I’m not writing about anything right now, just rambling. Intro paragraph over.

My grandfather turns 89 in a couple weeks now. 89. I was thinking about it today, what kind of things you’ve lived through when you’re 89. He was born in 1915, two years before we joined the Allies against Germany in WWI, although that conflict would come and go before he could remember it. He was 14 when as we entered the Great Depression, and spent those oh-so-glorious teenage years during some of this country’s hardest times. At 26, the 3rd year of post-college career life for me, he would see America again enter into world conflict after the Japanese bomb Pearl Harbor. Four years and two bombs later, that war also ended – only to see us pick up arms again in Korea a mere five years afterward. The Kennedy assassination, the Beatles, the civil rights movement, the space age, Vietnam, the cold war… so much. Kinda crazy to think about, and he’s got a sister who I think is in her late nineties.

I’ve got the window open in this room because it looks like it might rain tonight. I love the sound of rain, and it’s not my place – so I’m gonna keep the window open and hope it does. It’s a nice little room really, complete with a fridge and stove and dishwasher and microwave. They even give you some complementary popcorn which, were I not fulled up on beers and burger, I’d probably indulge in.

Written for today:

Back in the CtotheA. Tired from getting back late, and just that travel-tired, even though it wasn’t anything heavy-duty. Two days spent in a different state really makes the work week fly by though. Almost Friday and almost camping.

Yesterday was some Jewish holiday (when Moses received the commandments from God I think), and in celebration of this day the Jewish people eat cheesecake (which I’m pretty sure was also given to Moses by God on that same day). Just so happens that the woman who was chairing the meeting my boss and I went to Oregon for is Jewish. Anyway, she had brought like 20 huge cheesecakes to the meeting, and in the end there was one wholly untouched cheesecake leftover. She tried pawn it off on several people, who made various protests about already being overweight and whatnot – and then finally tried to give it to my boss and I. At first we declined, saying we were going to be on a plane in a couple hours. But then someone made a joke about giving the thing to a homeless person on the way to the airport. Struck by the awesomeness of the idea, we decided to do just that.

We set out for the airport, but stuck to the surface streets through the city instead of taking the highway. All the while keeping eyes peeled for those less fortunate than ourselves. You know how, sometimes, you’ll see something every day, some random object in a strange place at home – and you’ll think “wonder what that’s doing there?,” or “what a strange place for that.” but not do anything about it? Then the day comes when you actually need or want said thing, and you can’t for the life of you remember where you’ve been seeing it? It was kinda like that trying to find a bum, when you want one – they’re nowhere to be found, but when your stuffing cash into your wallet after walking out of a fine meal at a nice restaurant – they’re there to hold out a grubby hand and make you feel guilty for being so Republican.

We went on a mission, taking a 40min detour (and really pushing it on our arrive-early airport thing), just to find a homeless person. Finally, with one hour left until the flight too off and still being 20min away from the airport – we found our man. A grey-haired scruffy gentleman sitting on the corner, forlorn and hungry looking as he sat on his bedroll, trash strewn about. We rolled slowly up to the corner, and I held the cheesecake out the window. Before I could offer it to him, he jumped up and moved towards the window. I offered him the cheesecake, telling him it was brand new and we couldn’t take it with us. He smiled, looked at the cheesecake, seemed a little confused, smiled again and thanked us – then backed away and gave us the peace sign with the left hand, cheesecake clutched in the crook of his right arm. It was truly a sight to be seen. We weren’t laughing or anything, I didn’t want this man to think we were making fun of his station in life or anything. Although, after driving away – we did chuckle at how absurd it was. My boss said, “you know what that guy is probably thinking right now? ‘Man, I don’t have a fork, and my hands are filthy, how am I supposed to eat this thing?'” That cracked me up.

Cheesecake to the homeless in celebration of the ten commandments, peeing in the street (on a Salvation Army truck no less), and being served hot wings by a 41 year-old Hooters waitress – I call that a successful trip to Oregon. Oh yeah, and we did some work too.

Dave out.

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straightup buy a live chicken

Jetsetting yuppie.
On a plane to Oregon tomorrow, only gone for a couple days. Tonight was a pretty uneventful evening. Spent the time upgrading my RAID array to 240GB – since my “digital migration” project (ripping all my CDs to MP3) was taking up way more room than I originally accounted for. Surprisingly, the upgrade went off without a hitch, and I’m happily back to ripping songs.

Whoa, in the middle of writing that 1st paragraph about this being a rather uneventful evening, I decided to open today’s mail. Turns out we got another check from our home refi, for what seems to be more leftover impound account balance. Anyway, to me – it looks less like an impound account refund and more like a backyard. Yeah baby, it’s all there, every cent we need to hit yesterday’s targets by the arrival of Sharaun’s folks in July. I have changed my tune, and now think it’s entirely possible. I’m pumped.

Today Sharaun took her class on a field trip to Chinatown in San Francisco. They took a guided tour that hit some temples and other places of interest, one of them a traditional Chinese marketplace. The way she described it to me, it sounded a lot like some of the night markets in Taipei, lots of seafood and odd animals parts for sale? as food. Anyway, apparently this place has all sorts of livestock for sale too, frogs, turtles, chickens, etc. I guess one of her kids actually bought a live chicken.

One of the other students alerted her and she got back to the chicken hawker just in time to see a the saleswoman folding over a paper bag, stapling it shut, and poking four air-holes in it. When Sharaun asked the student what was in the bag, he replied with great excitement, “I just bought a real chicken for only a dollar fifty!” She managed to talk the woman into taking back the chicken, after explaining that it wasn’t going to be accompanying them on the two-hour bus ride back. For some reason that story had me cracking up, what kid tries to straightup buy a live chicken in Chinatown?! You got moxie kid, I like that.

Turns out the disks I wrote about the other day are unreadable. Yup, they either got the bit-rot, or there’s nothing on those mofos. You know, now that I think about it – I think Joey and I may have used those things on a PC sometime after we used them on the Mac? I wonder if we were smart enough to format them and store crap on them. Either way, I’m gonna try and get them back and see if I can read them on a PC 5.25″ floppy. Owell, it was worth a try.

That’s it, midnight-thirty and I have to be up around five. I’m off to bed, g’night losers. Dave out.