santa’s coming

I don't care what you celebrate.
Christmas Eve morning, I read President Bush’s Christmas message in the paper today… full of hope and the Lord and whatnot. I’m fresh and clean out of the shower, in some dark jeans that fit well but are of course too long in the leg and a brown sweater in response to the cold, gloomy Oregon weather. We’re waiting on some of my family’s Oregonian kin to roll by for some Christmas drinks and holiday cheer (around Christmas, we drink a drink called Tom ‘n’ Jerry in our family, have as long as I can remember). It should be fun, one of those family get-together things with stories and a few awkward silences. Ahhh… holidays.

I started out writing, but decided to do a Christmas-themed template for the blog instead… which took most of my time (holiday logo courtesy of the GIMP2.2). I wanted to add some snow-caps to the text boxes, but gave up because I suck at art. Owell, at least the red and green thing seem somewhat in the spirit. It’s the blog’s way of saying Merry Christmas to you, all its readers (even the closet readers).

Today we decided to do nothing. The main motivation, other than kinda just wanting to do nothing, was to stay out of the holiday traffic. The last thing I want to do right now is go out, the streets were bad enough yesterday. And besides, it’s nice and warm and quiet in here and I can see the grey skies from the windows, so I’m not missing much in the way of people and horns and cold air. Mom’s in the kitchen cooking, dad’s reading a book, and Sharaun went out to pick up some last-minute stocking stuffers. It’s nice because it smells like cooking in here, and I’m comfy on the couch drinking a beer.

I think I’m done writing for today… I mean, if I do write more, I’ll just make it tomorrow’s post. Until then, then.

you say tomato

Family.
Christmas Eve eve y’all. I don’t know if any of you saw, but today the blog was flat-busted. Yup, something was wrong on the server-side and all my scripts weren’t working. I couldn’t even log into the blog, so I’m writing this in a text file (just like the olden days). Anyway, chatted with the live tech support and they’re working to fix the problem, but I made a local copy of the database just in case. (Yeah, I’m stealing some neighbor’s wireless connection here at my folks’ place.)

The nine hour drive yesterday wasn’t all that bad, although the majority of it was in the dark and a little foggy. We made good time, and even stopped at a casino for a buffet dinner and a really bad cabaret show. By the end of the trip, there wasn’t an album in the world that sounded good. We listened to everything, and got sick of everything. I nearly crashed several times trying to watch Ben play Altered Beast on his laptop in the passenger seat, MAME is just too distracting for front-seat play.

The day we left, Pitchfork posted their top 50 albums for 2004. I always look forward to PF’s toplist, and usually find a few good albums I may have missed during the year. This year, I wanted to see how my personal top 10 stacked up against PF’s list. And, the results are in… they don’t prove much, other than that Funeral really was, by leaps and bounds, the best album of the year. Anyway, it was fun to see if I could remember the HTML for a table from memory – so here goes:

Dave’s Top 10 Position on PF list
1. The Arcade Fire – Funeral #1, I was pretty sure about this one.
2. The Killers – Hot Fuss Didn’t chart, not surprising… this is pure retro-pop indulgence, but I love it.
3. Brian Wilson – SMiLE #5, not bad for a 37 year-old LP.
4. The Radio Dept. – Lesser Matters Didn’t chart, but don’t let that turn you off… it’s great.
5. Interpol – Antics #27, we agree, it’s the half-best album of 2004.
6. The Go! Team – Thunder, Lightning, Strike #8, go team, go.
7. Modest Mouse – Good News for People Who Love Bad News #23, not bad for a commercial sellout (OK, they still rock).
8. The Stills – Logic Will Break Your Heart Didn’t chart, again… commercialpop at it’s best and most addictive.
9. DJ Danger Mouse & Jay Z – The Grey Album Didn’t chart, which surprised me… bringing a whole genre to the masses.
10. Franz Ferdinand – Franz Ferdinand #26, we both be likin’ the Franz.

I’d like to type more, but I’m tired and my laptop says I only have 13% battery left (there seems to be an outlet behind the couch, but that seems like a lot of effort right now). Tonight we introduced my folks to Ben’s folks in a large spaghetti dinner at the farm. Ben’s folks cooked, and we had a nice dinner for eight. It was a good time, but now I’m ready for bed.

Goodnight.

if Good Morning America is any indication

No idea.
Guys, I don’t know what happened… I thought I missed one day of writing this week, but it turns out I completely missed two, count ’em, two days. Really, something happened to me, because I don’t even remember not writing on Monday night. I remember not writing last night (Tuesday), but that’s about it. Contrary to what my lack of posts may indicate, I have been writing this week – fragments of stuff not good enough to fill out an entire post… so I’m gonna do one of those “flush” entries where I get rid of a backlog of stuff.

7am on Wednesday morning, somehow ended up on the plus-side of time this morning… I dunno, got ready fast today or something. So I sat down and flipped on Good Morning America to see what’s happening in the world. Apparently, Laci Peterson is happening in the world… and is maybe the only thing happening in the world, if Good Morning America is any indication.

For the past couple days, I’ve been coming home for lunch and playing darts with friends. Anthony and I broke in the new dartboard and dart sets on Monday, which involved me playing my first ever “real” game of darts (y’know, not just the “hit the bullseye” version). While playing, I realized darts could be a pretty fun way to kill some time. Get some people over, have some beers, listen to some tunes, and play some darts. In fact, maybe coming home for lunch and drinking some beers and playing darts would be awesome too. Whatever.

Looks like I’ll be spending nearly a month in Taiwan come late February. I have mixed feelings about an extended stay… my longest trip so far has been two weeks, and I was more than ready to head home near the end. I think this stay will be somewhere between three weeks and a month. The only good part about it is getting to stay in that swank high-roller hotel for that long. I can look forward to an entire month of late-night bloody marys at the bar and lonely nights on fluffy sheets. Other people I work with will be coming and going over the time I’ll be there, so at least I’ll have that. So if anyone wants to make their way to Taipei in March, you can have the floor in the hotel room.

Saw a post on /. the other day about open-source GPL schematic capture and board layout software. It may seem nerdy, but it’s what I do. It’s so awesome that you can get free software to do most everything… even the things you do every day at work… bleh.

I noticed from my referrer logs that Suzy linked me on her “friends” page, many thanks. And now it’s time to head to bed, I’m up early to deliver friends to the airport. Sorry for the crap entry. Goodnight.

my kingdom for a pagerank

Damn... this heart burns for you baby.
Work continues to be relentless, what a week. It’s 10ish on Wednesday night and the dirty dishes from our dinner of tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches are still sitting on the coffee table where we supped. Sharaun’s left the kitchen cabinet open again, and I keep glancing up at it, getting more disgusted each time. I can see a pile of trash (a pizza box, an empty Diet Coke “fridge pack,” and a plastic bag) on the kitchen counter, and although I haven’t actually gone in there to look – I know there’s a pot on the stove with a thin red film of dried tomato soup clinging to the inside. Who’m I to complain though, I’m just sitting here talking about it and looking at it.

Tonight I began serious work on a long outstanding project I’ve been kicking around for a couple years. I’ve talked about it before, but back in high school we (a motley group of ragtag drunks and stoners) made some recordings. Mostly we spent our time tape-recording prank phone calls, but we also managed to lay down a fair amount of “musical” material. Anyway, I’ve collected every bit of our stuff, a pile of five tapes, and I’ve been meaning to compile it all into one grand “box set” covering our recorded career. Meeting up with members of the prank-call-crew again while in Florida last week made me want to pick up the torch again. So I downloaded some great audio-editing freeware and started capturing. I’m working with Andy and Kyle to get pictures of the prank sessions, which will serve as liner art for the CDs; and we’re all gonna do a little writeup to serve as liner notes. Anyway, I got three of five tapes encoded and cleaned up just tonight… amazing what you can do when you get down to business.

Last night I was awaken in the middle of the night. Know what woke me up? Old age, that’s what. Old age by way of heartburn and indigestion. Worse than I’ve ever experienced before… bad enough to wake me from my sleep. So as I stumbled from bed at 3am and chewed four chalky generic Wal Mart Tums, I found myself cursing the bizarre combo of apple-flavored hookah smoke, beer, and the creamy shrimp pasta that was dinner. I guess I’m thinking about age lately… stands to reason.

Another curious piece to the “hairy clits” puzzle I wrote about last week… just go to Google or MSN and search for the phrase “hairy clits,” just do it. Can you believe this website is the #1 return for “hairy clits?” I don’t get it. I mean, I realize it’s the #1 return simply because of my entry about the fact that it was one of the funny search terms that had led people to my site. See, this very paragraph… the one I’m writing right now about hairy clits… will further bubble my site to the top of the search engines for said query. Strange, but increasingly hilarious.

Saw another awesome open-source app on /. the other day, who needs a Windows Media Center PC when you can have the same for free? I really have nothing more to write, and I’m surprised I got this much anyway. Time to climb wake up my wife and move her from the couch to the bed, climb under the covers and fire up the booklight for a few chapters before hitting the hay.

Goodnight y’allz. Dave out.

fun run

It goes with the running theme... you'll see.
Wednesday goes by without fanfare, and finds me again on the couch… typing. It’s a seemingly extra chilly night, so we flipped the switch on our statemandated environmentally-friendly gas fireplace. It sucks. I mean, it puts out a lot of heat, but it’s so fake. Fake logs, fake ash, fake fake fake. Really… isn’t there something going on tonight? Am I really still sitting here at 9pm? Crap.

Guys, no… for real guys… check this out… Here are some of what I consider to be the best “search engine referrals” to my blog. I track this kinda crap, these are actual search terms/phrases people have typed into Google or Yahoo or MSN that have somehow led them to my page. They are a comedy goldmine:

removal of caked deodorant
bedroom making love sounds mp3s
Home remedies for treating bumpy toenails
Cold-induced urticaria
pictures of black hairy clits of women
pictures of Jennifer anniston’s hair
candy washing machine faults
new bright eyes leaked
data structures stacks rearranging railroad cars
poop sounds
Gaming Referendums
bananadine
Alchemic Transmutations using cheap materials
The sounds I should make when masturbating
hairy ladies clits
sounds that a giraffe makes
nude native american
free dirty lesbo stories

What’s with the guy obsessed with hairy clits? And worse, how the hell is he getting to my site by searching for them? It’s not an all-inclusive list, but I liked the spread of topics. Nice to know that people may be led to my writing by searches on alchemy, music, rare diseases, and porn. And the number one search string that led users to my site? That honor goes to “poop sounds,” a phrase which has somehow referred searchers to my pages over ten times in the last couple months. I don’t remember talking about poop sounds. Let’s change subjects, shall we?

I interface with people much easier in writing than I do in person. Not to say I’m not personable, as in a social setting – but within the confines of a business environment I feel I can communicate much better in writing than in person. I don’t clam up, or stammer or stutter when I have to talk to someone, I just feel so much more comfortable handling things over e-mail or IM. I think it’s the physical detachment factor, and the underlying escape clause it provides. If I don’t want to deal with something, I can write on it later. Reply later, think about it later. Luxuries you’re not afforded in real-time face-to-face communication. I’m a big proponent of informed communication. I don’t like to go into a business conversation without a decent amount of knowledge on possible subjects.

I think it comes down to a basic confidence issue. In writing, I have the entire world as my backup knowledge. Between two sentences in an e-mail, I could’ve done three hours of research. Like I said, I like the optional “safety net” that written communication provides. The chance to resituate my testes while considering an answer, should I so desire. The wall of distance separating myself and the party whom I’m “conversing” with. Taking the idea one step further, I could generalize like this: to me, written communication offers one particularly attractive option over in-person communication – the option to run. Something I’ve known for a long time: in the right situations, I’m a runner. Now, I don’t really like the term “runner,” but I think that’s the term most would relate to. I like to think of it as more of a “pragmatic” approach to things.

Whatever you call it, the symptoms are the same: Occasionally, when things get to a certain point – I cash in and take off. Simply put, it’s giving up; quitting. When things get too uncomfortable, too un-fun, too hard – simply do an about-face and leave the whole mess in your wake. Sounds terrible right? In some ways, it is. You can equate it to being a chicken, soft, milquetoast, a pushover, whatever. On The Rifleman, they’d call it “yeller,” and any cowboy worth his whiskey knows it’s better to be dead than be yeller. That’s the level of shame we’re talking about here.

Surprisingly though, when these rarish situations come about, I manage to feel minimal shame. Probably from years of honing the skill of folding. It’s an interesting two-sided coin though. In some ways, I consider “running” to be both one of my most shameful traits, but also one I’m kinda proud of. On one hand, there’s that aspect of self-preservation, looking out for #1. The great selfishness that most of us possess, but usually try not to acknowledge. In some cases, the shame associated with taking an easy out may be bearable when compared to the pain of the easily-outed activity. Sometimes, I can live with that balance. On the other hand, there’s this whole you-joined-the-little-league-team-and-you’d-be-letting-them-all-down sense of honor that we’re instilled with from a young age. Bailing out, taking the “cowards road,” flies in the face of that notion. That concept of honor is so well ingrained in people, that often it’s the thought of other peoples’ projected shame that can be enough to make me stick to something.

I’ve run away from jobs, from people, from social engagements, from obligations, from responsibilities, from just about everything at some point. Looking back, I am indeed ashamed of the more rash of these choices… but I also look back on them with with something not unlike a sly sense of pride. I did it, and it made it easier, and it’s done, and I don’t have to deal with it, think about it, talk to it, go with it, etc. I escaped. I overcame the shame and did something that made me happier in the long run.

I know, from the outside, where we’re all great human beings – that those paragraphs may lay me bare as a self-centered asshole. I don’t mind. I’m actually done with this topic, but, as often happens with introspective topics, I feel I didn’t do it justice. Whatever. I don’t even care.

Well what do you know. Tonight didn’t remain on the couch, despite starting and ending there. Here are the images from this evening, as part of the “week in pictures” project. Check out the fun, courtesy of “pint night” at the local brewpub. Highlights include: Ben through a pint glass, me finishing off one of the same, Erik in situ, and some artsy attempts at capturing the group, as well as the ride home. Enjoy.







And we’re done. Sharaun’s asleep on the couch, I’m writing with the laptop on one knee, and all is right with the world. Goodnight all, Dave out.

sportin’

On my blog?
So, Sharaun bought me a bunch of new shirts recently. Y’know, the kind that all the “cool” guys wear? To me, they look like 70s relics for the most part, but apparently all the cool late-twenty-somethings are wearing them. She’s also stocked my hangers with some “cool” jeans, apparently defined by looking orangey-dirty and being a half-inch of flare away from bellbottoms. Now, I don’t profess to follow any fashion trends, or to even pay attention to such things, but when I wear these new clothes – I do feel nice. Somehow, be it the magic of haute couture or whatever, I actually feel a little cooler when I wear them. You can probably see it in my cocksure swagger – and read my thoughts on my face: “these clothes make me more socially acceptable.” All kidding aside, I am kinda glad that she buys me stuff in efforts to keep me hip. I mean, I’m not gonna be a presenter at the MTV whatever awards anytime soon – but I can almost pull them off without resultant hilarity.

The only problem with the cool clothes is the stark dichotomy between them and my usual accoutrements. (Yes, this is a thesaurus contest). This night-and-day effect almost always elicits some kind of comments from those who see me on a regular basis. Things like, “Dang Dave, why so dressed up?, ” and, “You clean up nice.” Not that these comments bug me, I guess I just get kinda shy under the focused attention. I’m mean, as you can probably tell by the way I keep a freakin’ journal on the internet for the world to read – I’m pretty coy. Who am I kidding… I’m the dumbass with the lampshade on his head. Regardless, it’s amazing what a few small comments and a change of clothes can do for your bravado.

So, really… I don’t know how I found it – but I’ve started reading someone else’s weblog, a random person I’ve never met, for that matter. Just the other day, I was waxing on about how I’m not the “typical” blog-reading, blog-writing, blog-eating-sleeping-drinking blogger… but it seems I was wrong, at least, a little bit. When you get mixed up in this lifestyle, it sucks you in man…

I put some awesome green floodlights on the graveyard last night, ones that are truly meant for outdoor use (the indoor ones I started with popped in the previous night’s rain). These are true 100W floods, not the piddly 40W low-voltage crap I was using before – so they really light the place up. Enough so that they cast an eerie green glow on the front of the house. The entire effect is really satisfying – the blacklight, moving, crank-ghost, the green-lit flying witch, and the shadowy-green house and graveyard. Can’t picture it?, check it out:

Horror, bathed in green.

Anyway, one time I found this link on the intarweb – and I clicked it – and it took me to a pretty interesting, and definitely creepy page. By creepy, I mean worrisome – so why didn’t I just say “worrisome?,” I dunno. That link, the one I clicked a couple sentences ago, was this one. It talks about, and even coins a term for, a person getting fired from their job for content on their weblog. Now, I usually try to stay away from talking about work in much detail here, and I don’t even think I’ve really ever said what I do for a living (other than be awesome). But, just doing a quick mental search (binary, of course, because my brain is efficient and elegant) of my past entries – I think I probably have some “dooce” fodder on these pages.

Frequent pining for vacation, less-than shocking admissions that sometimes I don’t do anything, sordid tales of business trips to the Orient, all these things could probably be used as evidence against me. I really do think about things like that, y’know. Getting fired because I posted a picture I drew while in a customer meeting, something dumb like that. That’s why I’m generally leery about people at work knowing about this thing – even though I know there are some occasional readers, I try not to spread it around. Hopefully I’m non-specific enough that I’ll never have to worry about getting “dooced,” but man, that would suck. Hard.

Looking at other blogs, comparatively, I write a lot. I see a lot of one-sentence stuff out there. That’s cool I guess, but for some reason I don’t feel like I’m “writing” unless there’s a couple paragraphs. Granted, sometimes my “couple paragraphs” are just rambling – but it makes me feel better to see the words I guess.

Somehow, someone was referred to my blog by Googling “whale sounds in water pipes.” I swear, that’s what the stats say. Dave out.

eminent domain

Exhausted.So, things are nearly 100% with the blog migration. I’ve migrated posts, comments, links, pictures, files, etc. There are still some… “artifacts”… that I’m working on, for instance, if you browse through past entries you may see some Chinese characters or find a broken link or five. But for the most part, it’s OK. I’m switching the domain over tonight, so by the time you read this it may have propagated to you or not. Anyway, I’m sure readers will find more errors than I already have by spot-checking, so drop me a comment if something’s not working for you. I’ll still be updating both sites for a week or so until the domain change fully propagates.

Honestly, I’m too tired to write. It’s 11pm and I was up ’til 2am the past couple evenings – I just don’t have any more staying-up in me. So, instead of writing something good… I’ll just tell you what I see right now. I’m sitting in the living room, Cold Case Files is on the TV but I’m not really watching, Sharaun’s asleep on the couch. There’s a cold pot of spaghetti sauce on the stove and some drying noodles in a double-boiler in the sink, our electric filtered-recycled-water cat dish is making the noise it makes when it’s low on water. There are too many lights on for being so late and only one person up, and that makes me think of how much money they cost – not quite enough to get me up and turn them off, I decide. The cat is curled up beside me on the couch, and Sharaun’s worked-too-late-to-cook meal from Kentucky Fried Chicken is sitting in a plastic dish on the coffee table in front of me. I’ve already made up my mind that I’m tired enough to not care that I won’t pick up that dish, or clean those pots, before going to bed. They can wait until tomorrow.

Sorry, that’s it for today. Too much webpage-makin’ and I’ve lost heart. Dave out.