the tortoise that is my metabolism

It's a spare tire, y'know.. like because I'm fat and stuff.
Man, I seem to be getting more and more e-mail about my Pac Man cabinet every day. I guess as more sites link to mine, and I move up the Google ranks, the more hits I get. Right now my site is the 4th return in a Google for “pac man cocktail,” which ain’t bad at all. I think, of all my self-maintaining sites, it’s the one I’m most proud of. I feel like I actually “completed” it, didn’t leave it hanging like I often do. I mean, out of all my websites – the blog is the one I’m the most happy with, since I’m really happy I’ve kept up with it? and I feel like I might even have a small semi-dedicated readership. Thanks y’allz.

Sitting here listening to the Byrds’ “Mr. Tambourine Man” from 1965. So yeah, the GDM project is up to the By’s at this point. I haven’t been updating the database on the webpage, mostly because I haven’t been 100% diligent in testing all the resulting rips – but I am making some fo rilla progress on getting through the collection. The 120GB RAID array is nearly a quarter full. Dang I gotta take a dump right now, I’ll be right back?

One of my Taiwan customers sent me an awesome little gift the other day. I love this thing. When I was in Taiwan last, I picked up a similar USB pendrive MP3 player and it died immediately after I brought it onto US soil. Was a waste of $60 and didn’t have FM or voice-record features like this MSI one I now have. I gotta admit, the little thing sounds pretty dang good – and the volume goes loud enough so I can hear it over the lawn mower, which is one of the few times I use it. I know it’s no iPod at only 128MB, but hey – if it’s enough for the 1st four Led Zeppelin albums? who really needs anything more? For real though, it’s perfect for yardwork, running, hiking, camping, and any other short-term activity than can be enhanced with tunes. With a 2-4 album capacity at a decent bitrate, it works for me. Even if my albums run out, I could turn to that God-forsaken form of media-indoctrination they call FM radio? but of course that’d be this indie-diehard’s last option.

So hey, three paragraphs and nothing interesting yet – I’m back! Maybe I’ve finally shaken the shame of this terrible streak of writer’s block and settled for mediocre documentation of my daily crap. I’m gonna write about nothing and like it. For real though, I’d like to write something good again – the last thing that even came close was the Satan-flier thing? the coded-best-friend’s-sister-letters thing just didn’t really do it for me. Shit, am I all storied out? I got more right?

Been running roughly every other night, in a serious effort to try and lose some of my fat ass. That’s right, I want to lose some of me and never find it again. I’m talking like 80lbs of me? and that’s a lot. Anyway, every other night I lumber my hefty ass around the block a couple times to try and get the tortoise that is my metabolism to step it up a notch. I’ve been flirting with the whole “eating right” gig too, but been making slower progress on that aspect of it. I mean, my body has been in a slow state of atrophy for nigh on 15 years now? so it’s gonna be slow going. So, I’m really trying? maybe then I can get some friggin’ pants that fit or something. Being fat sucks, so I gotta work on it. Between working in the yard and running, maybe I can at least sweat out a pound or two. Wish me luck.

Well, it’s now officially Wednesday morning – and I have no idea what I’m still doing up. Listening to some 1967 Neil Young demos for the 2nd Buffalo Springfield album and writing. Because I feel bad about not writing something more awesomer, here’s a scanned in note I got from Sharaun in 1993. She’s talking about a mutual friend of ours, Heather – who would, ironically, later on become one of the “indiscretions” that led to our 9-month lost weekend. See, we really have been dating since high school? eerie. (The spelling errors were a running joke between us, man we were nerds).

Dave out.

frank and the road to nowhere

You know... I don't know how this ties in... sorry.
Missed yesterday because I was in a class all day, being taught how to “Work with China.” I guess because my whole industry is “offshoring” work to China – so I need to get better at working with these folks by better understanding their cultural and political situations. The class was interesting, mostly just because history and culture are interesting to me to begin with. Anyway, at least now I’m prepared for the eventual communist China takeover of the world’s tech industry. Sign me up, me and Mao go way back.

I had this whole entry written Friday to post Monday, so it would appear my writing hadn’t slacked off – but I decided against it, as it was mostly religion-themed. Who wants to read three pages of my rambling about the scientific vs. Biblical age of the earth anyway. So really, by not posting yesterday – I saved you. Your faith, assuming you have any, is safe from further erosion by my misguided “intellectualism.” But for real, 6000 years old and we lived with dinosaurs? I just don’t get it anymore. Oops, sorry.

Talked to Frank yesterday, he’s still in the Army. He’s signed up to go to Alaska and build roads in some remote town for a month in June. When I asked him why they were building roads there, who’s driving there – he responded by calling the place “the Alaskan whore.” Apparently all the branches of the military go there and build stuff. If you believe him, they have no reason for building it other than to round out some defense budget. In the Army they call the project, unofficially, “the road to nowhere.”

Other than building pointless roads in order to spend money and keep busy – he’s doing pretty good. He also said he’s leaving for Iraq in January of 2005, which seemed a little far off to me for him to already be so sure about? but he swears he’s already slated for the tour. When I asked about the fact that Bush said we’re pulling out and giving the country to the Iraqis – he just laughed. Comforting. Good to know we’re paving rainforests and fighting wars for the betterment of our country. Jeez, I think California is turning me into a pinko liberal… umm… “kill the poor and gimme back my guns!” There… that’s better.

This weekend was a busy one. Rented a jackhammer to plant some trees in the backyard. Yeah, a jackhammer. Makes the digging so much easier in a backyard that’s more rock than dirt. Got six holes dug and filled with trees, and it really “greens up” the yard. Soon enough I’ll have something that looks more like a suburban backyard more than it does the surface of Mars. Mowed the lawn, edged, pulled weeds, and did various other yardie stuffs. Still found time to see Kill Bill 2, drink a little bit, and head out for some wakeboarding on Sunday. Didn’t get to ride though, as my crazy-allergy-itchy thing came back with a vengeance on the river. What’s wrong with me?

I had another paragraph here, but it was dumb so I deleted it. Like the last song on Let It Bleed, or falling gold bars, I’m out.

the smooth licks of carlos

You think gold bars leave a mark?
Hot-damn people. What’s happening with this week? I haven’t been this distracted from writing since my last year of college, trying to worm my way through those last classes so I could escape from academia. I need to write, I gotsta write… here I go! Hold me back!

In the seventh grade I met Kyle. We were best friends in no time, my bond with him eclipsing those of my other friends almost immediately. He became the closest of my friends in the middle school crew. Not long after I started hanging out with Kyle, I developed a huge crush on his little sister. I mean, it was only natural. She was awesome, fun, cute, and ultimately accessible. I had “liked” girls before, but this was different. You know that first girl you were ever completely infatuated with? That was Kyle’s sister. My first “love.”

At first, I think it was a one-sided thing. I would flirt as best I could without making a big deal about it so Kyle could notice. However, as the years passed – it became something more serious. Eventually, we were sneaking around – sitting on either side of Kyle while we played Leisure Suit Larry on his mom’s computer, all the while holding hands right behind his back. It became the most exhilarating thing in the world.

Sometime in 8th grade, Kyle moved across town. I would still spend the night at his house often, and I would use those times equally to hang with my best friend – and flirt with his sister. Around this time, she and I had started passing notes in school. I don’t know how it happened, but we had to be super-secretive about it. The whole note-writing phase of our courtship was right around the time that the boys and I had cracked the Astro code, and having taught the code to Kyle’s sister – we added an extra layer of security to our clandestine missives by encoding them.

I’ll never forget trying to pass these secret notes to each other between classes, slipping them in locker slits, dropping them on the ground in view of each other, and plain being sly while exchanging them with Kyle right there. I would read each note with such attention, savoring each and every word. If there was ever a boy so painfully in love, it was me. We kept writing notes, and I kept spending the night, and things started getting worse. Kyle was starting to notice things.

One night, we had gone over to Kyle’s grandmother’s house – which was walking-close to his place. I was spending the night that night, and Kyle, his sister, and I were all walking back from his grandmother’s. At some point in the walk, she managed to slip me a note she’d written sometime that day. I remember barely being able to contain myself, I wanted to read it right then and there. As soon as we got back to the house, I went to the bathroom and took the note with me. I could read code like it was plain english by this point – and what I read made my heart race and head swim.


“I can tell you this now, I love you.”

She loved me? Holy crap! My heart must have been going a mile a minute. I can remember hurriedly writing a note in response the very next morning. Kyle had left me alone in his room while he mowed the lawn, and I broke out paper and pencil to confess my reciprocal pining to his sister. Santana’s “Samba Pa Ti” was on the stereo, the window was open, and I wrote a love letter to my best friend’s little sister to the hum of a lawnmower and the smooth licks of Carlos. After we had confessed our undying love for each other, we just had to keep our “relationship” a secret from the world.

What a great year or so. I remember holding hands on the couch in the dark, watching the “Lost Boys” while Kyle busied himself flirting with a friend of his sister’s who was also spending the night. In honesty, we had the best arrangement ever. Kyle got all his sister’s friends, and I got to keep busy with his sister. This hormone-filled middle school boy’s utopia was short lived though, and it was all do to one fateful double-sleepover night. The castle came tumbling down the morning Kyle’s mom walked into his room to find her daughter and I sharing a blanket on the floor while her son lay in bed under the covers with her daughter’s sleepover guest. What an awkward over-pancake discussion that breakfast was. In the end, we nearly lost simultaneous sleepover privileges – but it was worth it.

Not long after, Kyle asked me point-blank if I liked his sister. He said it was no big deal, and that every friend he ever had always ended up liking her. I wanted to be different, so I lied to him. I didn’t want to be “using” him for her, and I wasn’t. Anyway, before I knew it – his sister was “dating” some dude. I never got so much as a breakup note or a “goodbye.” Just found out one day that she was dating this dude in her grade. Crushed, I eventually grew out of my gradeschool puppy-love – but not without some amazing memories of hidden car-ride hand-holding, the smell of her wet hair in the morning, and my first-ever head-over-heels love.

This just in, this entry wins 1st place for use of hyphenated compound-words. Seriously, what’s up with that? Dave out.

gold bars fell on my head

So OK I stumbled, but I swear I only tripped over one...
Listening to the new Blonde Redhead, and it’s got a “nostalgic” air about it for some reason. The songs kind of hang out in my ears and make me feel far away from something, or? maybe it’s not the songs at all. Anyway, it’s a good album and you should check it out because I said so. What you need to wait until you hear it on the OC or see it in Best Buy on the “With a Bullet” rack? Stupid collective musical consciousness finally starting to recognize talent? you’re taking away my elitism. Bah.

While I was looking through my old junk trying to find the Satanic Flier from the other day, I found all the notes I’d saved from my courting years with Sharaun in high school. Holy crap, I have reams of paper filled with what must be seas of ink – and none of it says a damn thing more than “I love you I love you I love you.” Oh sure, there’s other words in there – but there’s absolutely no substance. We used to exchange notes after every period in high school, and it was always a contest to see who could write the longer of the two. I mostly won, because I can write about nothing with the best of ’em (I’m even doing it right now). But man those notes meant something then. Why am I talking about this again?

Gold bars fell on my head and I didn’t even stoop down to pick them up. Dave out.

freeze-camping

It's a GIS for "writer's block."
I guess I just haven’t had much time to write, and there’s been so much going on in my head. I keep thinking of fun things to write about, but keep running out of time to write them down. Hopefully now I’ll have a little more time to keep up with things, it was just an insane weekend… really.

So yeah. A long, and well received, weekend. Paintball on Friday, freeze-camping and hiking in the snow in Yosemite on Saturday and Sunday, and a Sacramento-to-Oakland yacht trip on Monday. I learned I like bloody marys, Sharaun and I took shelter from the snow under a rock, I found out I’m either OK at, or got lucky at, paintball, and I’ve still got it. Indeed, it was a fine weekend. Being so busy, the blog suffered some. I don’t really mind though, as it was nice to have an extended break from writing – gives me a chance to build up something to actually write about.

You know how some people change the letters on the back of their pickup trucks to say things like “toy” or “yo” instead of Toyota? Well the other day I pulled up to a Ford F150 Lariat Edition at a stoplight. I was thinking, if you took off the ‘T’ and completed the bottom round of the capital ‘R,’ you could make it the F150 “LABIA” edition. That cracked me up for a good minute or so.

More better to come this week, I promise. Dave out.

you did it

Where my droogs at?
Sitting here ripping my CD collection, listening to some great stuff that I haven’t heard in years. Tonight we’re on the Bs. We listened to everything from Ben Folds Five to Black Sabbath to Badfinger. Sometimes I’m torn between wanting to write every detail of my daily stuff and wanting to write down stuff from the olden days. Sometimes olden days are more fun.

One day I was playing “doctor” with the girl from next door. I must have been in the 5th grade. It was her, my brother, and me – and we were hiding out between our two houses. My mom was out and about somewhere, and my dad was home. Since we were so young, I really had no idea how to play doctor – I just think I wanted to see something I’d never seen before. We were in the middle of the proceedings, and the little neighbor girl was in a compromising position – when my mom drove down the street on her way home. The picture looking out the car window must’ve been pretty telling. Two boys and the neighbor huddled in the corner between the houses, she’s striking some unnatural pose or lifting something that shouldn’t be lifted? while the two boys look on intently.

We saw mom drive by, and immediately canceled the game of doctor. I think my brother and I headed home, hoping that mom wouldn’t suspect us. Bad news for us, the neighbor told her mom about the new game she played with the brothers from next door. Bummer. While my mom was in the living room talking to the neighbor’s mom, I put my plan into action.

I went into my brother’s room, and told him “you were playing doctor with that girl.” “No I wasn’t, you were,” he replied. “No, you did it,” I answered. Then, without giving him enough time to answer – I kept drilling it into him. “You did it!” “You did it!” “You did it!” “You did it!” Over and over and over and over again. Finally he stopped protesting and started crying. “I did it,” he whimpered through tears. “That’s right, now go tell mom.” And, he did. He went out and told mom that he was the one who was playing doctor with the girl.

Never have I been more ashamed of my treatment towards my brother. I’m sorry Frank. I know you didn’t play doctor with that girl. Oh, and I’m also sorry I brainwashed you into “admitting” you were the one who scribbled all over the toilet seat with mom’s mascara – I know it was me. I’m also sorry I threw the cat on you while you were taking a bath, and that I shot model rocket engines at you out of a homemade PVC pipe “bazooka.” Oh man, no wonder?

OK, so I posted Thursday’s and Friday’s at the same time. Sue me, Dave out.

old navy and ross every day

The printing press why?  I think because of the whole flier thing.
Whoa, sorry guys. Things have been hectic both at and away from work this week, and the blog has suffered as a result. I promised myself that I wouldn’t let the blog fall like I did my journal when things got busy in college. So I gotsta write.

I guess halfway through Tuesday’s article I decided to start spelling “flyer” as “flier.” It’s cool though, because apparently English is stupid enough that both spellings are accepted. Still strange how my brain decided to start spelling it differently somewhere in mid-writing.

Sharaun got selected for jury duty this week, seems like it could be a lengthy trail too? bummer for her since it’s her off-track time and she wants nothing more than to do nothing. Maybe good for me since it will keep her out of Old Navy and Ross every day. Now I’m gonna get beat up for saying that. I think the trial doesn’t start until sometime later this month, but she has to be there next week for something or other – which means she’ll miss the boat trip on Monday. She was pretty bummed.

So, apparently the wording from that book that I read in high school (and used to create the satanic flier prank) is an “actual” satanic ritual from La Vey’s “Satanic Bible.” It’s the “Satanic Baptism,” the Children’s Ceremony no less. Guess that book I read plagiarized La Vey’s stuff or something. Maybe those youth group leaders were familiar with the actual stuff and it lent credence to my prank. Awesome.

Sorry. Dave out.