Category: general

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

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things like public transportation


1 for 2 tonight, as I was able to get a haircut but lost the daylight before I could get the lawn mowed as I’d planned. Keaton’s officially sick, the doctor says she has an ear infection and she’s gotta take two different prescriptions. I feel bad for her, because her nose is stuffy and her eyes are goop-laden. We even got her that new ear infection inoculation too, because I was plagued with the things as a kid. On the plus side, she doesn’t act sick – she seems as happy as ever and smiles like there’s not snot on her face and boogers in her eyes.

Today I decided, on a whim, to swing by the public library. When Sharaun and I first moved to California, one of the first things I did was get a library card. I went through a period where I used it quite often, requesting books online and picking them up. That was a while ago though, and since then, I’ve let it fester. But, driving back from lunch solo today, I decided to stop in to pay my $2 and bring myself back “current.” I mainly wanted to see if they had a copy of Kurt Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse Five available for checkout, as I’ve never read it and Ben’s recommended it to me several times. I figured I could take it along camping this weekend and maybe start reading it. Anyway…

I’d forgotten how much I love the library both as a concept and a brick-and-mortar resource. It has the same kind of socialist appeal for me that things like public transportation and open-source software do. It fits right into that “share for a common good” and “simplify” message that sings to my inner hippie. I mean, why pay for and stockpile books you’ll never read again when you can borrow them for free? The only reason I can think of is that you might not want the Bush administration to flag you for TSA screening because you checked out an annotated Koran. But, other than that – what’s not to love?

What’s more, when I look at my Amazon.com wishlist, the minimalist in me thinks “Why own books?” I mean, if anyone should know the virtues of the public library, it should be me. As far back as I can remember my dad has been a both a voracious reader and consumer of libraries. I recall him bringing home foot-tall stacks of books every week, reading and reading and reading.

Anyway… they didn’t have the Vonnegut book, nor did they have any Vonnegut books, which I’d guess are perpetually hot items. Marx is probably turning over in his grave.

A while back, during what seems like the forever-ago times when Keaton wasn’t here yet, I wrote about how I’d implemented a “baby budget” in the household. Sharaun and I took our spending down to a minimum and socked all her paycheck away as if it were non-existent, kind of a practice run for when Keaton did arrive and we became a single-income family. The experiment was a huge success, showing us not only that we’d be more than comfortable with just my income, but also that we had some great opportunities to adjust some spending areas. Well, Keaton’s now six months old and, as tends to happen with all once regimented things, Sharaun and I have let our budget slide a bit. So, in the interest of reclaiming our money with the least lifestyle impact possible, I’ve been doing some detailed budget analysis with the great freeware app, AceMoney. I consider us to be on the plus-side of avaricious now, and I’d like to center us more around a miserly creed. Hopefully one day we can not only pay off our own college loans, but start a fund so Keaton and her sibling(s) won’t have the same post-education burden.

Less than 300 spams from 100k, goodnight.

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let’s go barefoot


Monday night and I’m mad it’s already 8:30pm and here I am just getting started writing, more mad because I’m doing my best to ignore the pile of dishes that I should’ve done first anyway. Sharaun’s at yoga and I put Keaton down about 40min ago. She cried for a minute, and then commenced to cooing and burbling the sweetest babytalk over the monitor. The sounds were like sirens calling a sailors to the rocks, making me want to go in there and talk right back to her or pick her up and swing her around. Sometimes, when I woosh her around in the air in a game where I pretend she can fly like Superman, she pulls her head tight into her body and her little neck ceases to exist. When she smiles like that, the arc of her smile is mimicked in her compressed rolls of chin – making an irresistible compact Ram-Man looking ball of cute. That’s an awesome baby right thur, I’ll tell y’all that…

Hey, wanna chuck this crap in the dustbin and head to the forest? We can bring some food and park the car and go barefoot. Let’s do that, huh? Let’s go barefoot. Because, you know, I get tired of this sometimes, the same desk and the same feigned interest and the same the same the same. So let’s just drop out for a week, put what we need in the car and drive away. We can stay as long as we want, we can wash off in a cold river and wake up to our breath steaming from our nostrils. We can sleep whenever we feel tired and scream if we’re happy. What you gonna say you gotta do, anyway? Ain’t nothing you got here you can’t get there, and ain’t nothing gonna come crashing to Earth while you’re away. Seriously, it’s not even gonna be a thing or anything. Let’s go barefoot.

Spent some time yesterday drafting up the Evite for the annual Halloween party. This being our 4th year running, I was able to lean on previous years’ invitations as templates. I can’t believe we’re closing in on that time of year again, and it only serves to make me worry that I’m running out of time to finish my wolf prop. If you asked me for a progress percentage, I’d have to peg it somewhere right around 50%. I still have to dream up the mechanization – and I’ll admit I don’t have any solid ideas on adapting that old ice cream machine motor to drive the wolves baying heads. I’m confident it’ll all come together though, it usually does. Won’t get much time to work on it this coming weekend, as I’m striking out again on another camping trip with some buddies – this one, however, being more rugged than last week’s everything-and-the-kitchen-sink car-camping outing. In a combination 4×4/camp/hike, we’ll be taking some vehicles offroad in honor of Ben getting hitched. With full GPS-enabled tracking and some gorgeous old-California gold country, it should be a blast.

Hey people, hey people c’mon! No, for really. Check out that “blocked spam” counter over there in my sidebar there… I’ll wait… you check it out yet? Do it! OK, for real y’all, as I post this that counter says 99,282 spams have been blocked. I might turn 100k by week’s end. Each one of those spammies means a MySQL transaction that my host has to handle, because each little nasty actually goesinta the database, even if it will later be deleted. I think this is part of the reason my blog goes out lunch sometimes, y’know… just flakes out when it gets overworked. 100k spams, think about that… and that’s not even from sounds familiar “day one” either, I didn’t install Akismet until I was well over a year into writing (up until then I didn’t need Akismet). Dang.

Goodnight.

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neanderthal-moot


Thursday night. The ladies, including Sharaun, went out to have some drinks and talk about shoes and calories and Suri Cruise and shit like that. Meanwhile, back at the Bat Cave, the women suggested the abandoned men come together and have a night of bonding they could call their own. Man bonding, however, doesn’t really involve talking. Just TV watching, a case of Budweiser Select, and a 40-pack of Pizza Rolls. That, and, dad was left to get Keaton down – so I’d wager the women were able to cut loose a little more than our neanderthal-moot. But, let’s get serious y’all, how fun can cutting loose be when it’s comprised of Appletinis and gang-gossiping?

Is it me, or is Halloween now much more merchandised than I remember it being as a kid? I’ve been obsessed with Halloween since I was a kid, but I don’t remember it being anywhere near as commercialized as I see it today. Nowadays, come September, Halloween mega-stores pop up all over the place. They’re full of high-dollar assembly-line form-pressed scare-wares, fake blood and costumes galore. We had nothing like this when I was a kid. We went to Kmart and walked down the one costume aisle; the same aisle where, if you were lucky, there’d be a squeeze tube of fake blood left, and maybe a spraycan of hair color. Don’t get me wrong, I love the new Halloween, love the “made in China” 500% markup props strewn about suburban lawns.

Heck, I remember my brother and I stuffing a pair of dad’s old pants and a long-sleeved shirt with newspaper and old towels. We’d cinch a masked basketball to the stuffed torso, smear the whole thing with fake blood, and hang the whole thing from the basketball hoop. It looked great, right down to the tied-on shoes pretending to house feet. We’d stuff another dummy all broke-bodied into a plastic trashcan, not have light on either when the big night of trick-or-treating came around, and be absolutely giddy about the whole thing. I still like that “pioneer” style Halloween moxie, still like trying to create my own tombstones rather than buying the bulk ones from Target. To end this mess: I’m just glad Halloween is gettin’ the respect it’s so rightly owed.

Tomorrow if Friday, God-blessed Friday. I’m leaving early too, to head out to the coast for a weekend of camping. Since it’s family-style car camping, the normal rules of “primitive” camping are thrown out the window – and we’re free to haul in the big tent, air mattress, and coolers full of beer. Not only that, I can bring the iPod and portable speakers, and Erik’s bringing a small black and white TV so we won’t be college football deprived. I’m looking forward to huddling around a daytime fire to cut the chill, perpetually sipping a beer, and squinting to watch the action on the pitch. Good times.

‘Night.

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entirely devoid of rhythm


‘Nother long day at work, this time starting at 7am for a meeting with those cagey Europeans and home at 6pm after closeted think-tank style meetings most of the day. I actually welcomed the brainstorming though, it’s fun to think occasionally. Sharaun is forcing me to watch some new dance-competition show. These infernal dance shows… am I the only person who just doesn’t get dancing? I mean, I see two people up there… bouncing around smiling… but I just can’t get an idea of “skill.” To me, it’s almost like that disease where people can’t discern one face from another. To me, it’s all walking around and spinning – I just can’t differentiate it. Sharaun claims this is because I am entirely devoid of rhythm… and I’m inclined to believe her. I just can’t see dancing. I figure that’s OK though, because it sucks. Oh, and I’m putting off getting up and doing the dishes… pretty standard stuff.

I’m tired of having to wait a few days for the latest leaked album, but am torn about begging invites to the biggest “zero-day” leak tracker sites… as I have visions of server raids netting memberlists and IPs and even share ratios. So, I’ve decided that the prestige of being 1st to the party just isn’t worth the time in jail – and I’ll wait until the stuff trickles down to the mid-level feeders like me. But dang, sometimes when I want to hear something… I want to hear something!

So, in what I hope is the last time I write about this, here are the two best wrapups of the whole LonelyGirl15 debacle. Enjoy.

Goodnight.

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a windows-open weekend


Sunday night went long at a social event, so I didn’t get time to do my normal writing nor my normal posting of pictures. This didn’t bother me. In fact, as the clock approached midnight and we were just settling down to a dessert of apple pie and ice cream, the realization hit me: “I’m not writing tonight.” Usually, if I’m out somewhere and know I haven’t written, I’ll get preoccupied thinking about having enough time to get something posted after getting home. Letting it go, so to speak, is nice. As soon as I square my OCD-self with going outside of routine, I get all rebel-proud and cool-calm. Yeah, so, being that I didn’t post Monday I suppose I can do the in-brief weekend roundup right here and right now:

It was an “open windows” kinda weekend, with the weather pleasantly warm and sunny. (This was a stray sentence, but I like it so it made the cut.)

There’s no more sleeping in at my house. When Keaton gets up, the family gets up. This new trend often finds me up and about before 7am on weekends, something that, until now, was rather foreign to me. In fact, I’m writing this paragraph right now early one Saturday morning. Sharaun left for Wal Mart at 8am, as by that time we had both been up and ready for some time. Strange, you know, how things work like that.

Changed the brakes on the Ford this weekend, and flew completely solo for the first time ever. I know, changing the brakes is literally six screws and a jack – but I was extremely proud of myself nonetheless. Being incredibly not mechanically inclined, any successfully mechanical task is belt-notch worthy for me. In fact, my success in this simple task has ignited a small fire of desire within me to get to know my vehicle more intimately. Indeed, I find myself pursuing the Chilton’s manual and trying to “learn,” soak up some information. I go back to the long exhaust manifold job that’s been in “I gotta get that done” phase limbo for a couple years now, I catch myself checking local Pick-n-Pull hours of operation and thinking about scavenging a new bucket seat or center console lid or passenger-side mirror. Some day I’d like to know what a differential does, or how to realign a transaxle (I have no idea if you can “realign” a transaxle… it just sounded all “gear”). Hell, I even added a TiVo season pass for Two Guy Garage I was so passionate about the grease under my nails and finally getting to use that economy-sized jug of Fast Orange I bought years ago.

Switching gears to Keaton, she had her six-months checkup at the baby-doctor last week. And, in case you were thinking of picking her in the fantasy baby draft, here are her latest stats: weight: 25th-50th percentile; height: 50th-75th percentile; head: 90th percentile. So, if she can manage not to pull her neck holding up that massive melon of hers, I think she’s got the makings of a strong season ahead of her. She’s definitely got the head-size advantage over most of the field… although she could stand to put one some pounds.

I also got her gallery updated, albeit a day late. Unfortunately, I moved to allowing only registered users to comment until I can create a better spam filter, so you’ll have to register (one-time only) should you desire to comment. You can check out the new pictures right here.

Today the iPod did some bizarre “random” shuffling. Back-to-back I heard Donovan’s “Lalena” and Deep Purple’s cover of the same song. And, as if to mock the rand() function even further, later in the shuffle set I heard Al Kooper’s “Season of the Witch” followed (no joke!) by Donovan’s original version. Insane.

In closing, did you know that, per capita, if America’s national debt were spread across the population, each person would carry a balance of -$2778.07 (balance/per capita and balance/GDP data). Ouch. The logic of us being dead-last on the “balance sheet” of all the countries in the world confuses me. Someone care to explain?

Oh, and this just in, LG15 is busted. A 19 year-old New Zealand born actress who recently moved to LA to jumpstart a career. Looks like it worked.

Goodnight.

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officially good


Three-day weekends are officially good. Managed to mow the lawn, do some long-waiting-to-be-done “fix it” stuff around the house, and attend three barbecues. Back to work tomorrow, not something I’m looking forward to at all. I keep thinking about my weeks upon weeks of state-funded “bonding leave” coming up in December, and the blissful days spent not going into the office. Yeah, I’m way ready for that. Mostly music; deal.

Oh, I did update Keaton’s gallery Monday, check it out (and yes, I added this sentence late, post-publishing).

I am chomping at the bit to see the movie Jesus Camp ever since catching the trailer on YouTube and reading David Byrne’s blog entry on his thoughts after seeing a screening. I have to see this movie, it looks ultimately compelling. Hopefully, it’ll make the rounds at one of the local artsy joints here in town.

Seriously, all the hubbub about the Pitchfork leak of Joanna Newsom’s new album made me positively itchy to hear the thing. The indie crowd is in a state of multiple-orgasm over it, leaving me perplexed. See, I couldn’t for the life of me get into her previously lauded effort, The Milk Eyed Mender. I’ll say up front that I’m not a huge fan of this whole “psych folk” or “freak folk” movement that’s been so hot over the past years – the sound is just a bit too “weak” for me. Anyway, I used my leak-locating superpowers and tracked down a YSI link for the album (which was just a rip of the “oops’d” shared PF directory).

What do I think about this album? What the hell? The message boards of the thick-rimmed set are lighting up, already proclaiming this five-track effort “album of the year.” Seriously? I’ll admit it’s interesting, the lyrics are somewhat engaging and there’s no denying an abundance of songwriting talent here, but it’s about as unapproachable to me as Natalie Portman – I’ll never get it. With lush orchestrated background approximating a Disney score and Newsom’s fragile annoying voice warbling out in a worse-than-Bjork timbre, I just don’t get it. Best album of the year? You’ve got to be effing kidding me. You guys can have your gay-ass freak folk, or whatever you call it. Give me something like The Figurines or Midlake or The Islands or The Decemberists… you can have this pansy crap.

By the way, I’m gonna get like tons more chicks than you when I’m blasting Wolfmother from my open car windows in response to your dainty Newsom “Monkey and Bear” harpischord balladry. That is, unless you want to date the Lilith Fair. Personally, I’d rather date Ozzfest.

Goodnight.

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no tears in sleepyland


Eating dinner tonight, I brought my fork down on a yellow pepper to cut it for easier eating and some pepper-juice sprayed in my eye. Sucked. Poor Keaton had a tough time tonight, teething and screaming. So, we cancelled our plans for the evening and got her to bed instead (no tears in sleepyland). I just got done whipping up some brownies to fix Sharaun’s sweet craving (I’m the baker in the family), and in 20min we will eat them. Small blog today, not much in a writing mood… suppose I shot my wad over the course of the multi-thousand-word week. Here we go.

My tiny blog experienced a small bit of increased exposure today due to a rash of internet searches for the word “crumbelievable.” A search for said word, which is a Kraft cheese marketing campaign, on Google turns up my January entry on it as the 3rd return. Not bad. The “crumbelievable” search has always been a leader in the blog stats, but I didn’t have a good explanation for yesterday’s spike – that is, until I went home to make a sandwich for lunch and instructed the TiVo to serve up Wednesday’s Colbert Report. Turns out Colbert did a bit on American “cultural cohesiveness” in which he cited the Kraft Crumbles crumbelievable television ads as the campaign which can bring people together, a sort of “Where’s the beef? or “I’ve fallen…” for the modern age. Ahhh… the ebb and flow of pop culture, at least it’s good for copy.

Time for brownies, goodnight.