Or Lamb of God? Or Metallica? Or Slipknot? Eminem?
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Today is a day of great joy! For not only is it my Grandma Baggett's 89th birthday but it is ALSO National Video Game Day, celebrating its 18th year of existence (only 71 years younger than Gram!) As most of you know, it was on this very day in 1989 that I played cheat-free through both Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles AND The Adventures of Bayou Billy for the first time! In an era void of the Internet and Gamefaqs, this was a major streak of incredible game playing mojo. And for my Grandma who still regularly defeats me in bowling (and I'm pretty good), this is the last double-digit year for her where reversing her age makes her OLDER than her current age! I'll make another post about the triple-digit phenomenon on her 102 birthday. Also, tomorrow (or possibly today or next week) is John R's birthday, marking the beginning of his first full trip around the sun as a Dad. So here's the lowdown on how to celebrate this incredible holiday:
1-In honor of my Gram B, go bowling!
2-In honor of National Video Game Day, play your favorite game for any system though I highly encourage NES-based titles.
3-In honor of John's birthday, watch Bugs Bunny cartoons OR break into some one's bathroom, the choice is yours.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
1)- I've gone my whole life not fully realizing that Lou Reed and Lou Gramm are in fact two different people. In my mind, they are the same leather-faced, grumble-throated blond guy who did something rock-worthy in the 80's. For all intents and purposes, my brain will continue to classify them as a singular "Lou".
2)- There are people who actually go to both Oral Roberts (tee-hee) and the comically named Bob Jones Universities. Now anyone named "Oral" is going to garner a few chuckles, but the fact that Bob Jones' url on the web is "BJU" makes me think there's some kind of in-joke within the wacky infrastructures of these establishments. If only they weren't so darn hateful and intolerant!
3)- As far as stooges go, you really can't complain about Shemp. He really made a fine stooge, much more so than Curly-Joe Rita or Emil Sitka. Don't even talk to me about Joe Besser. But here's what I didn't realize: the Moe-led Stooges continued to perform until 1975, which was the year both Moe and Larry passed away. So sadly, none of the premier stooges were alive during my tenure on Earth, which began in a stooge-less world in 1976.
'Tis a sad day in the world of delicious sports drinks. Dr. Robert Cade, the inventor of Gatorade has passed away. Considering I pretty much live on the stuff, especially the fancy new Mango Electrico I'll honor his memory by dumping my next cup of Gatorade onto the nearest person who has done something cool, perhaps at volleyball or at my next work meeting.
You know what I haven't had in a long time? Gatorgum? That stuff was great. While I don't think it exists anymore, the same exact gum is available as "Quench Gum" if my taste buds are correct. Hey, what's in a name? I mean, if Alexander the Grape can become Grapeheads, I'm ok with Quench as long as it still has the same saliva triggering capacity of Gatorgum.
Anyhow, raise a glass to Gatorade, possibly of Gatorade for the drink I would most want to find a river of in the magical realm of Gator-land.
I'm not one for wanton destruction of public property, but I have to say the funniest piece of graffiti I've ever seen was at a restroom along the Massachusetts Turnpike, whose "buckle style" hat logo is shown to the right. Just above the dispenser for sanitary paper toilet seat covers someone wrote "FREE MASS TURNPIKE PILGRIM HATS!!" Beauty!
Following up on my last post, Boulder got three inches of snow last night, meaning I finally had the ideal night in my apartment. With most of the windows still open, the 25 degree air outside mixed with the 100 degree heat inside making for a comfy 65 degree sleeping weather. Add to that, the snow muffled the sound of cars on the nearby road making it quite peaceful for Xanadu and I.
Since not many of you will be online tomorrow, here's to a happy Thanksgiving for Indians and Pilgrims, Packers and Vikings and all the people in between.
Much like my previous apartment, the heat in my current place is unreasonably hot. There's no way to really regulate it; the thermostat in the house is purely decorative at this point. Even turned OFF, the house (which I learned is heated by steam pipes despite being built in 1986) gets too hot to comfortably sleep. Even with every possible valve to the house blocking the heat flow to the radiators, the heat still eminates through the walls.
After not sleeping well for the last week (temps got into the 80's here yesterday), I awoke at 1 AM hot n' bothered...errr annoyed... and opened every window and door, turned on every fan and tried to get the place to cool down. Even though night time temps were in the low 40's, it took several hours before the cool air had any effect. My thermometer in my room went from 85 to 71 and when I woke up this morning, it said 69. The overnight lows according to the news were in the high 30's, yet my place was still somewhat hot--- I almost turned on the air conditioner in addition to the windows-- on a 38 degree night, mind you.
If I have any super-hero type weakness, it's being hot. It takes me a long time to really get cold, maybe as a result from swimming in Maine's 58 degreee water on a regular basis when I was growing up. But I've camped out in 12 degree weather in a sleeping bag rated to 35 degrees without waking. On many active winter trips, if I'm moving I can wear an undershirt and thin fleece in 0 degrees and be comfortable. But in any real heat, I wilt. My sympathy goes out to poor Ice Man when he gets hit by Fire Man's Fire Storm weapon in Mega Man, I can feel your pain brother.
Everybody's favorite surly, chemicially-enhanced fat-head is back in the news. Apparently, US prosectors are a little ticked off that Barry "One Cheek or Two" Bonds lied to them about his steroids use--the excuse that he'd been hit with a gamma bomb was beginning to wear a bit thin, not to mention the accumulated layer of subcutaenous fat around his cranium that has made him impervious to Arctic waters. Amongst the evidence due to be presented in the case (which itself is based on perjury) are positive tests that prove Barroids used anabolic steroids. Well geez, you mean Bonds' 73 homeruns was artifically powered?! And in other related news, the sky is blue, pain hurts and water is wet.
Countless bloggers no doubt have posted similar, smug notes cheering the ignonimous downfall this polarizing behemoth. Amazingly, there were professional sports writers who said that Bonds' achievements were legit and until there was proof (you know, beside the entire book Game of Shadows and the freakish, puffed-up body that contained the inner Bonds) in their minds, Bonds stood as greatest player of all time. I can only assume these writers were playing devil's advocate, though there was certainly the issue of race playing into the mix; many black sportswriters were reluctant to crucify Bonds, even though the man whose Home Run record he supplanted was also black. While I can respect the intial cultural nod in giving a "benefit of doubt", anyone who knows baseball knows race ultimately plays no part of Bonds crimes.
Sure, Bonds has always been a jerk but that's nothing new in sports. In his first seven years as an MLB player, he never hit more than 34 home runs and was regarded as a fast, lithe hitter with decent speed, a great eye and occasional power. In the late 90's, his power totals were up and this was probably the last time we saw the natural Barry Bonds--an excellent athlete in the peak of his career. Yet, unlike normal human beings, Bonds started to pack on muscle as he got past the age of 35. When Barry went from 46 HRs to 73(!) in 2001, anyone with eyes could see Bonds had transformed into a hulking thug whose joyless pursuit of baseball's most hallowed record was reluctantly praised by those who know the game. Even when Bonds broke the record this year, the fanfare was extremely subdued and the news quickly shifted to other stories.
So now, the "cream" has hit the fan. Bonds' career is likely over. Though it's not 100% certain, any team would be crazy to take put a juiced-up elephant in the locker room. No World Series rings, no 3,000 hits and an asterisk the size of Mars accompanying whatever legacy he has carved out. Bonds is like the kid in school who you always saw cheating on tests but got straight A's. There are plenty of other players who could have put up Bonds-esque numbers if they took cheating to the next level--Bobby Bonilla, a footnote as Bonds' one time equivalent comes to mind. Now that there's a proverbial smoking gun in the positive steroids tests, Bonds has no where to hide. Much like the protagonist in the fabled Monkey's Paw story, Bonds got exactly what he wished for: the most home runs of all time, bar none--yet the circumstances that enabled him to do so will forever haunt him and negate the honest talent that could have been his legacy.
Fare thee well Barry, the tragic prince of baseball's dark side.
2)- There are people who actually go to both Oral Roberts (tee-hee) and the comically named Bob Jones Universities. Now anyone named "Oral" is going to garner a few chuckles, but the fact that Bob Jones' url on the web is "BJU" makes me think there's some kind of in-joke within the wacky infrastructures of these establishments. If only they weren't so darn hateful and intolerant!
3)- As far as stooges go, you really can't complain about Shemp. He really made a fine stooge, much more so than Curly-Joe Rita or Emil Sitka. Don't even talk to me about Joe Besser. But here's what I didn't realize: the Moe-led Stooges continued to perform until 1975, which was the year both Moe and Larry passed away. So sadly, none of the premier stooges were alive during my tenure on Earth, which began in a stooge-less world in 1976.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
'Tis a sad day in the world of delicious sports drinks. Dr. Robert Cade, the inventor of Gatorade has passed away. Considering I pretty much live on the stuff, especially the fancy new Mango Electrico I'll honor his memory by dumping my next cup of Gatorade onto the nearest person who has done something cool, perhaps at volleyball or at my next work meeting. You know what I haven't had in a long time? Gatorgum? That stuff was great. While I don't think it exists anymore, the same exact gum is available as "Quench Gum" if my taste buds are correct. Hey, what's in a name? I mean, if Alexander the Grape can become Grapeheads, I'm ok with Quench as long as it still has the same saliva triggering capacity of Gatorgum.
Anyhow, raise a glass to Gatorade, possibly of Gatorade for the drink I would most want to find a river of in the magical realm of Gator-land.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
I'm not one for wanton destruction of public property, but I have to say the funniest piece of graffiti I've ever seen was at a restroom along the Massachusetts Turnpike, whose "buckle style" hat logo is shown to the right. Just above the dispenser for sanitary paper toilet seat covers someone wrote "FREE MASS TURNPIKE PILGRIM HATS!!" Beauty!Following up on my last post, Boulder got three inches of snow last night, meaning I finally had the ideal night in my apartment. With most of the windows still open, the 25 degree air outside mixed with the 100 degree heat inside making for a comfy 65 degree sleeping weather. Add to that, the snow muffled the sound of cars on the nearby road making it quite peaceful for Xanadu and I.
Since not many of you will be online tomorrow, here's to a happy Thanksgiving for Indians and Pilgrims, Packers and Vikings and all the people in between.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Much like my previous apartment, the heat in my current place is unreasonably hot. There's no way to really regulate it; the thermostat in the house is purely decorative at this point. Even turned OFF, the house (which I learned is heated by steam pipes despite being built in 1986) gets too hot to comfortably sleep. Even with every possible valve to the house blocking the heat flow to the radiators, the heat still eminates through the walls. After not sleeping well for the last week (temps got into the 80's here yesterday), I awoke at 1 AM hot n' bothered...errr annoyed... and opened every window and door, turned on every fan and tried to get the place to cool down. Even though night time temps were in the low 40's, it took several hours before the cool air had any effect. My thermometer in my room went from 85 to 71 and when I woke up this morning, it said 69. The overnight lows according to the news were in the high 30's, yet my place was still somewhat hot--- I almost turned on the air conditioner in addition to the windows-- on a 38 degree night, mind you.
If I have any super-hero type weakness, it's being hot. It takes me a long time to really get cold, maybe as a result from swimming in Maine's 58 degreee water on a regular basis when I was growing up. But I've camped out in 12 degree weather in a sleeping bag rated to 35 degrees without waking. On many active winter trips, if I'm moving I can wear an undershirt and thin fleece in 0 degrees and be comfortable. But in any real heat, I wilt. My sympathy goes out to poor Ice Man when he gets hit by Fire Man's Fire Storm weapon in Mega Man, I can feel your pain brother.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Everybody's favorite surly, chemicially-enhanced fat-head is back in the news. Apparently, US prosectors are a little ticked off that Barry "One Cheek or Two" Bonds lied to them about his steroids use--the excuse that he'd been hit with a gamma bomb was beginning to wear a bit thin, not to mention the accumulated layer of subcutaenous fat around his cranium that has made him impervious to Arctic waters. Amongst the evidence due to be presented in the case (which itself is based on perjury) are positive tests that prove Barroids used anabolic steroids. Well geez, you mean Bonds' 73 homeruns was artifically powered?! And in other related news, the sky is blue, pain hurts and water is wet. Countless bloggers no doubt have posted similar, smug notes cheering the ignonimous downfall this polarizing behemoth. Amazingly, there were professional sports writers who said that Bonds' achievements were legit and until there was proof (you know, beside the entire book Game of Shadows and the freakish, puffed-up body that contained the inner Bonds) in their minds, Bonds stood as greatest player of all time. I can only assume these writers were playing devil's advocate, though there was certainly the issue of race playing into the mix; many black sportswriters were reluctant to crucify Bonds, even though the man whose Home Run record he supplanted was also black. While I can respect the intial cultural nod in giving a "benefit of doubt", anyone who knows baseball knows race ultimately plays no part of Bonds crimes.
Sure, Bonds has always been a jerk but that's nothing new in sports. In his first seven years as an MLB player, he never hit more than 34 home runs and was regarded as a fast, lithe hitter with decent speed, a great eye and occasional power. In the late 90's, his power totals were up and this was probably the last time we saw the natural Barry Bonds--an excellent athlete in the peak of his career. Yet, unlike normal human beings, Bonds started to pack on muscle as he got past the age of 35. When Barry went from 46 HRs to 73(!) in 2001, anyone with eyes could see Bonds had transformed into a hulking thug whose joyless pursuit of baseball's most hallowed record was reluctantly praised by those who know the game. Even when Bonds broke the record this year, the fanfare was extremely subdued and the news quickly shifted to other stories.
So now, the "cream" has hit the fan. Bonds' career is likely over. Though it's not 100% certain, any team would be crazy to take put a juiced-up elephant in the locker room. No World Series rings, no 3,000 hits and an asterisk the size of Mars accompanying whatever legacy he has carved out. Bonds is like the kid in school who you always saw cheating on tests but got straight A's. There are plenty of other players who could have put up Bonds-esque numbers if they took cheating to the next level--Bobby Bonilla, a footnote as Bonds' one time equivalent comes to mind. Now that there's a proverbial smoking gun in the positive steroids tests, Bonds has no where to hide. Much like the protagonist in the fabled Monkey's Paw story, Bonds got exactly what he wished for: the most home runs of all time, bar none--yet the circumstances that enabled him to do so will forever haunt him and negate the honest talent that could have been his legacy.
Fare thee well Barry, the tragic prince of baseball's dark side.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Since I've never really liked GI Joe (though I like the Cheat Commandos) I didn't realize there was a chaarcter named "Snowjob". Can they do that?! I know I'm 20 years behind my gen-X kitsch loving comtemporaries, but didn't this raise a few eyebrows back in the day? If you're curious to learn more about Snowjob, just make sure you have "safesearch" turned on before you Google--don't say I didn't warn you!
Speaking of snowjobs, I hope to get out and play in the high country this weekend where the snow is fallin' and the animals are hunkerin' down. I should be getting my Colorado Press Pass soon so I can head out and explore some new ski areas.
Otherwise, I have a relatively unexciting Thursday afoot.
In order to spare you the horror of horrors, I've declined to add any of the post-steroid photos of Carrot Top. As previously posted, something snapped in his beta-carotine rich head and he transformed from mild-mannered, scrawny, prop-comedian to a hideous, juiced, clownish monster. Even starring in his own feature film could not save the gentle, non-threatening 'Top who once shilled 1-800 ATT in sweeter times.
But why mention CT at all?
As Steph D. may recall, one of the more bizarre stories we ran at our time at the Marist Circle was a first-hand account of a party night/makeout session with Carrot Top (written, nor lived, by either of us thank goodness!) I recently stumbled across the piece while archiving some of my writing from long ago and it's still disturbing 10 years later. More frightening is that somewhere in Las Vegas, Carrot groupies are lining up to catch his cosmetically altered eye in hopes of being whisked away in his beefy, rusty, needle-ridden forearms.
In his defense, CT's performance at Marist was pretty funny, though the same routine would be less enjoyable now that it is performed by the orange Incredible Hulk.
Speaking of snowjobs, I hope to get out and play in the high country this weekend where the snow is fallin' and the animals are hunkerin' down. I should be getting my Colorado Press Pass soon so I can head out and explore some new ski areas.
Otherwise, I have a relatively unexciting Thursday afoot.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
In order to spare you the horror of horrors, I've declined to add any of the post-steroid photos of Carrot Top. As previously posted, something snapped in his beta-carotine rich head and he transformed from mild-mannered, scrawny, prop-comedian to a hideous, juiced, clownish monster. Even starring in his own feature film could not save the gentle, non-threatening 'Top who once shilled 1-800 ATT in sweeter times. But why mention CT at all?
As Steph D. may recall, one of the more bizarre stories we ran at our time at the Marist Circle was a first-hand account of a party night/makeout session with Carrot Top (written, nor lived, by either of us thank goodness!) I recently stumbled across the piece while archiving some of my writing from long ago and it's still disturbing 10 years later. More frightening is that somewhere in Las Vegas, Carrot groupies are lining up to catch his cosmetically altered eye in hopes of being whisked away in his beefy, rusty, needle-ridden forearms.
In his defense, CT's performance at Marist was pretty funny, though the same routine would be less enjoyable now that it is performed by the orange Incredible Hulk.
Monday, November 12, 2007
Before I begin this post, I need to express profound disappointment in the new Gillette five-blade Fusion razor. After shaving my face with the complimentary Fusion I acquired at the Denver Ski and Snowboard Expo, not one random woman came up from behind to feel the silky soft contours of my freshly shorn, chiseled face. I waited for a while looking in the mirror, figuring she just got caught up in traffic. No luck. Maybe, as Mike Nelson puts it: "Unlike other men, whose features are chiseled from the finest marble, mine is molded from the cheapest non-dairy butter supplement."
I couldn't have said it better myself.
So anyhow, this weekend was as much about lining up freelance work as it was trying to have fun (which I did by mountain biking at Heil Ranch both days). Here's some of the stories in the pipeline:
* I have recruited John R's help to review HDTV receivers (whatever THOSE are) for Consumer Guide. Techy, nerdy and good for the inner geek.
* Today I'm visiting Bow Wow Buddies here in Boulder for a feature piece I am writing for the Boulder Weekly. This cool dog rescue organization has saved strays in Greece and relocates them with loving families in Colorado. Cool stuff, I'm looking forward to writing the piece.
* I'm reading up on my Kiteboarding piece for Men's Journal, which is the thrust of my December trip to St. Lucia.
* I have a pile of shoes I've been alternating for my Outside Gear Guide reviews. I wish sample sizes were just a wee bit bigger, as cramming my feet into size 9 footwear (I'm a size 10) is threatening to reduce my toe nail count. Remember, it took me a year to get from 3 to 10 after my hikes for my book!!
* Finally, I'm writing an environmental piece for Gaiam's newest blog about the chemicals in plastic water bottles. Apparently, some water bottles are made from chemicals that decrease testosterone, increase breast tissue, etc. which is great if you want to sit around all day watching Oxygen and Lifetime, not so great if you want slinky women to pop up behind you and touch your face when you're done shaving.
I couldn't have said it better myself.
So anyhow, this weekend was as much about lining up freelance work as it was trying to have fun (which I did by mountain biking at Heil Ranch both days). Here's some of the stories in the pipeline:
* I have recruited John R's help to review HDTV receivers (whatever THOSE are) for Consumer Guide. Techy, nerdy and good for the inner geek.
* Today I'm visiting Bow Wow Buddies here in Boulder for a feature piece I am writing for the Boulder Weekly. This cool dog rescue organization has saved strays in Greece and relocates them with loving families in Colorado. Cool stuff, I'm looking forward to writing the piece.
* I'm reading up on my Kiteboarding piece for Men's Journal, which is the thrust of my December trip to St. Lucia.
* I have a pile of shoes I've been alternating for my Outside Gear Guide reviews. I wish sample sizes were just a wee bit bigger, as cramming my feet into size 9 footwear (I'm a size 10) is threatening to reduce my toe nail count. Remember, it took me a year to get from 3 to 10 after my hikes for my book!!
* Finally, I'm writing an environmental piece for Gaiam's newest blog about the chemicals in plastic water bottles. Apparently, some water bottles are made from chemicals that decrease testosterone, increase breast tissue, etc. which is great if you want to sit around all day watching Oxygen and Lifetime, not so great if you want slinky women to pop up behind you and touch your face when you're done shaving.
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
Hey Everybody!
I'm expanding my blog soooo here's what I need: send me links (in the comments are fine) to any awesome blogs that you think are worth reading and I'll link them to my page. If you have friends that are clever, witty insightful or love the NES, send 'em my way. Instead of just stealing other people's blog rolls, I only want the best and brightest. I do have criteria that states Family Rags is the only acceptable baby-based blog allowed!
And Scotty: that says send me your "Huddled" blogs, not "Huggles" blogs, though I suppose you could send those too, especially if they are suffocating, yearning huggles.
I'm expanding my blog soooo here's what I need: send me links (in the comments are fine) to any awesome blogs that you think are worth reading and I'll link them to my page. If you have friends that are clever, witty insightful or love the NES, send 'em my way. Instead of just stealing other people's blog rolls, I only want the best and brightest. I do have criteria that states Family Rags is the only acceptable baby-based blog allowed!
And Scotty: that says send me your "Huddled" blogs, not "Huggles" blogs, though I suppose you could send those too, especially if they are suffocating, yearning huggles.
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
Maybe this should be a Tuesday thing? Don't expect any central theme here--
1-Last night as I was feeding the animals, I switched between three TV sitcoms that all featured the same exact theme: Kramer, Balki and Carlton were all being auctioned off as bachelors in fund raisers. Should I take it personally that I've never been offered as bait to raise a few bucks for a local charity? I'd probably get at least a pity bid of 75 cents or so, enough to buy some napkins of plastic forks for a more productive fund raiser.
2-In the cats vs. dog battle, you have to give major points to the feline crowd for rarely feeling inclined to eat their own (or others) feces.
3-I'm hoping to really get in some great snow climbs this winter. I've been plotting out some new adventures in Rocky Mountain National Park so to my Colorado friends--get ready to have me bugging you to spend your winter mornings getting up way too early, spending the entire day in sub-freezing temperatures, getting lost in snowy forests and chipping your teeth struggling to ingest flakes of frozen Powerbars.
4-Shane MacGowan has to be one of the most intriguing artists out there. On the outside he's an unreliable, scatter brained, Irish drunk with the worst mouth of teeth you'll ever see on a human skull, and this includes the fossilized skeletons of Neandrathals. Yet, putting his gravelly voice to good use, he's produced some of the most moving and sincere words and poetry, almost like he enters a seance of brilliance before retreating back to his ragged exterior. I give him credit for having an incredible amount of heart and for somehow, still being alive.
5-For some unknown reason, I'm a big fan of Defender of the Crown for the old NES. It's admittedly a pretty crappy game but the idea behind it is cool--a strategy sim with some action sequences that pits you as a Norman Lord trying to reunite England in the middle ages. Recently I found out that the same developer, Cinemaware, put out an updated version of the game for the PS2 in 2003 called "Robin Hood-Defender of the Crown". I'm not a huge Robin Hood fan (well, maybe the Men in Tights version) but I may give it a shot. I assume it won't be too pricey.
6-Speaking of gaming, I really lost momentum in writing my Einhander FAQ for unlocking the secret "Selene" ship. It was a good three weeks of intense gaming focus to do so and one of my greatest gaming achievements to date (you must defeat the game on the hardest setting in using 2 or less continues; not an easy task for a rail shooter!) I completed the task right as I went through my last set of job interviews and prioritized the new gig at NatHab. Going back to something that focused is probably near impossible without dedicating some major time and plus I have a slew of new NES games to play, amongst them StarTropics and PinBall Quest.
7-I'm going to be doing some writing for Men's Journal in December, so I spent some time reading the online archives. They do have some decent articles, manly things like how to rebuild your car engine and getting all sorts of lumps where your abs should be. One article I found of interesting note was a suprisingly sincere analysis-quiz for men that pinpointed some of the possible things men look for in a woman's personality based on the outwards things we find attractive. It was refreshingly free of the perceived giant-boobs, weird plastic-like skin and bizarre, confused, vapid facial expressions that the media (including uhh.. Men's Journal) seems to think is a hit with the fellas.
8-Please take the Elmo shirt off your cat.
9-I wonder what kind of demonic region of the soul still causes an involuntary chuckle when watching some poor mtn biker go flailing over his handlebars? I mean, I've done it enough times to know it's not terribly funny from a first-hand perspective, but man that third-person view... I blame the Three Stooges.
10-For some bizarre reason, our restrooms here at work have no lights. Seriously, we leave the doors open and you just do your business with the ambient light from the hallway. Either it's a brilliant want to stay "green" or someone forgot to pay a very specific power bill.
1-Last night as I was feeding the animals, I switched between three TV sitcoms that all featured the same exact theme: Kramer, Balki and Carlton were all being auctioned off as bachelors in fund raisers. Should I take it personally that I've never been offered as bait to raise a few bucks for a local charity? I'd probably get at least a pity bid of 75 cents or so, enough to buy some napkins of plastic forks for a more productive fund raiser.
2-In the cats vs. dog battle, you have to give major points to the feline crowd for rarely feeling inclined to eat their own (or others) feces.
3-I'm hoping to really get in some great snow climbs this winter. I've been plotting out some new adventures in Rocky Mountain National Park so to my Colorado friends--get ready to have me bugging you to spend your winter mornings getting up way too early, spending the entire day in sub-freezing temperatures, getting lost in snowy forests and chipping your teeth struggling to ingest flakes of frozen Powerbars.
4-Shane MacGowan has to be one of the most intriguing artists out there. On the outside he's an unreliable, scatter brained, Irish drunk with the worst mouth of teeth you'll ever see on a human skull, and this includes the fossilized skeletons of Neandrathals. Yet, putting his gravelly voice to good use, he's produced some of the most moving and sincere words and poetry, almost like he enters a seance of brilliance before retreating back to his ragged exterior. I give him credit for having an incredible amount of heart and for somehow, still being alive.
5-For some unknown reason, I'm a big fan of Defender of the Crown for the old NES. It's admittedly a pretty crappy game but the idea behind it is cool--a strategy sim with some action sequences that pits you as a Norman Lord trying to reunite England in the middle ages. Recently I found out that the same developer, Cinemaware, put out an updated version of the game for the PS2 in 2003 called "Robin Hood-Defender of the Crown". I'm not a huge Robin Hood fan (well, maybe the Men in Tights version) but I may give it a shot. I assume it won't be too pricey.
6-Speaking of gaming, I really lost momentum in writing my Einhander FAQ for unlocking the secret "Selene" ship. It was a good three weeks of intense gaming focus to do so and one of my greatest gaming achievements to date (you must defeat the game on the hardest setting in using 2 or less continues; not an easy task for a rail shooter!) I completed the task right as I went through my last set of job interviews and prioritized the new gig at NatHab. Going back to something that focused is probably near impossible without dedicating some major time and plus I have a slew of new NES games to play, amongst them StarTropics and PinBall Quest.
7-I'm going to be doing some writing for Men's Journal in December, so I spent some time reading the online archives. They do have some decent articles, manly things like how to rebuild your car engine and getting all sorts of lumps where your abs should be. One article I found of interesting note was a suprisingly sincere analysis-quiz for men that pinpointed some of the possible things men look for in a woman's personality based on the outwards things we find attractive. It was refreshingly free of the perceived giant-boobs, weird plastic-like skin and bizarre, confused, vapid facial expressions that the media (including uhh.. Men's Journal) seems to think is a hit with the fellas.
8-Please take the Elmo shirt off your cat.
9-I wonder what kind of demonic region of the soul still causes an involuntary chuckle when watching some poor mtn biker go flailing over his handlebars? I mean, I've done it enough times to know it's not terribly funny from a first-hand perspective, but man that third-person view... I blame the Three Stooges.
10-For some bizarre reason, our restrooms here at work have no lights. Seriously, we leave the doors open and you just do your business with the ambient light from the hallway. Either it's a brilliant want to stay "green" or someone forgot to pay a very specific power bill.
Monday, November 05, 2007
I'm not a big fan of changing the clocks twice a year, especially in the autumn when we chop a precious hour off the end of our day. I can remember being a middle school lad and rushing home to cram in an hour or so of sledding in the woods across from my house. By 4:15 PM the fun was over. Now that I'm an "adult" I find that getting out and playing is more important than ever--and it's already dark when I get out of work at 5 PM. Ugh!!
Luckily, the plucky citizens of Boulder are not easily deterred. On any given night, one can see the twinkling headlamps of defiant hikers climbing up Mount Sanitas. Many mountain bikers buy expensive lighting systems to ride the trails once the sun goes down. Even LED frisbees are thrown with more frequency in the winter, even on freezing, finger-nail chipping days.
Don't get me wrong, I love winter--I would be hard pressed to live somewhere that doesn't get snow. I just wish we had more daylight hours to enjoy the fun! If only we had TWO suns like Tatooine, maybe that would solve the problem (or cast us into a horrible desert-like existence where sand people regularly caused trouble).
Anyhow, I don't let the illusion I'm "getting an extra hour of sleep" fool me. I'm really not, since I fell dead asleep last night at 9:30 PM and woke up at 5:30 AM. And then I just kind of hung out--though since I'm watching Mystic, we went for a doggie walk and watched the sunrise which I think was nice. I barely remember it--I need more sleep!
Luckily, the plucky citizens of Boulder are not easily deterred. On any given night, one can see the twinkling headlamps of defiant hikers climbing up Mount Sanitas. Many mountain bikers buy expensive lighting systems to ride the trails once the sun goes down. Even LED frisbees are thrown with more frequency in the winter, even on freezing, finger-nail chipping days.
Don't get me wrong, I love winter--I would be hard pressed to live somewhere that doesn't get snow. I just wish we had more daylight hours to enjoy the fun! If only we had TWO suns like Tatooine, maybe that would solve the problem (or cast us into a horrible desert-like existence where sand people regularly caused trouble).
Anyhow, I don't let the illusion I'm "getting an extra hour of sleep" fool me. I'm really not, since I fell dead asleep last night at 9:30 PM and woke up at 5:30 AM. And then I just kind of hung out--though since I'm watching Mystic, we went for a doggie walk and watched the sunrise which I think was nice. I barely remember it--I need more sleep!
