Use Google for good, not evil

Actually it's not so much evil...just googling the wrong things, and not even the wrong things, really, just sometimes I google my previous life, like the Twin Cities Archery Club. I used to belong to this club. Shot in a few tournaments with them. Won a few trophies. Had a good time with the gang. I just googled them now (as you can probably tell) and it made me depressed. Not because of anything that's happened, just because this is one more chapter in my life that's closed to me now. I know the President and Secretary. I could email them...but there's no point. We might email each other back and forth, and then we'd stop, and life would go on, as it always does.

Circus! Curcus!

We took JE to the Circus last night, it was pretty good, and the seats Liz bought were awesome, just 3 rows from ringside. The Circus (or at least Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey, whose show we saw) appear to be giving their shows a theme and tying everything in together; this time around it was the Circus of Dreams, where all of your dreams can come true.

A "family" was randomly picked out of the audience, and they just happened to be sitting in the very front row, right in front of us in fact. Dad, Mom, older daughter, Jan, and younger brother, Dan, all ran into the center ring and were asked what their "dream Circus job" was. As soon as Dad opened his mouth it was obvious they were plants. "Well that's easy," said Dad, "I want to be the Ring Master so everyone has to do what I say." And with that a bright red, sequined Ring Master's jacket was lowered from the ceiling and "Dad" slid it on. "Oh yeah! This is great," he said, as he ran off backstage. Mom said she wanted to be a trapeze aerialist and a ring was lowered from the ceiling. Mom climbed in, showing too much familiarity with the ring than would be expected in a non-Circus Mom, and the ring was hoisted away up into the ceiling. Jan said she wanted to be a Circus Dancer. She received a multi-colored wraparound skirt like that worn by the other Circus Dancers, and when she put it on and stepped in with the Dancers she was indistinguishable.

Then Dan spoke up saying he was just a little kid, what could he do? Quite a lot, really. Dan, like Dad, Mom, & Jan, was a ringer. He was actually one of the youngest actors in the Chinese Theatre group which gave three performances throughout the evening. As well as the very athletic Chinese acrobats we were treated to several performances by the Clowns. The Cossack Horse Riders also gave several excellent shows, and were later described by Liz as "yummy". She then had to explain to our 6-year old son with the big ears what "yummy" meant :D

Madame Shamshiva gave two performances which involved a lot of tricks with dogs, cats, and doves, but midway through her second performance I started to develop a dislike for her. The trained animals were very good, I just got bad vibes from her. Maybe it was the way one of the dogs cowered from her and rolled onto his back, which is what he was meant to do, the rolling on the back that is, not the cowering. Maybe it was that she seemed to take all of the credit for the animals, and accepted all the accolades when they performed a difficult trick, rather than directing your applause to the animal who actually performed the trick. Yes, she may have trained them, but to me she gave off a vibe of "I taught him that. Aren't I clever?"

The real highlight of the show was the Globe of Death, or something like that. Three motorbikes (the enduro variety, not street bikes) rode up the ramp and inside the Globe, positioned themselves, then began riding around the inside of the Globe until they were actually riding sideways, then they began riding higher and darting in among each other, crisscrossing in an awesome display of skill (& trust) where one wrong move would have been catastrophic. Then another bike joined them and their dance with death resumed. Then two more bikes rode in and it was just a blur of machinery inside the Globes as everyone rode seemingly at random between everyone else, but in what was obviously a brilliantly choreographed dance. I guess you'd start that with two bikes, but it's not something that could be practiced at slow speeds, because at times the bikes were doing complete loops, riding upside-down across the roof of the Globe, and there's no way you can slowly ride a bike upside down. I forget if there were eventually 6 or 7 bikes inside zipping around and missing each other by inches, but as the riders set a new World Record for 5 bikes inside the Globe of Death way back in 2003, I suspect it was probably 7.

All in all, it was a very enjoyable evening.

Yahoo Maps? What's that?

I may never use Yahoo Maps again (except for the fact that I have a ton of saved addresses in My Yahoo Maps®) because Google Maps are Friggin' AWESOME! Did they recently upgrade their Maps? Or have they always been this awesome?

Type in the address, maximize the window, and there's a full screen Map, not like this piddly little thing Yahoo gives you. Need to zoom in on an area, position the mouse cursor over your point of interest and roll the mouse wheel forward. Want to Zoom out, same thing but in reverse. Want to scroll the map? Left click & hold anywhere on the map...and drag! It's that simple!

Printing. Google Maps provide a much easier to read map than Yahoo.

But the real clincher, more for the fun & wowness factor, is the button in the top right corner that says Satellite. Click it and the Map changes to a recent Satellite photo that can be Zoomed in to disturbing levels.

I can see my House!!!

Scratch & Sniff : Public Transport

Aah, the smells of Public Transport.

This morning on the bus the guy that chose to stand over top of me had an interesting aroma that I just couldn't quite place. It wasn't B.O., but it was definitely an unwashed kind of odor, and when I finally placed it, man did I wish I hadn't.

It was stale urine, as if the guy had pissed in his pants a few days ago and hadn't washed them or even changed out of them.

This afternoon, thankfully just a few stops before mine, no, it wasn't the same guy; an older guy got on and I offered him the seat next to me (I had the aisle seat). After he sits down he turns to me and says "thank you", and I pretty damn near got drunk right there. This guy was also pissed, but in a different way than the morning guy.

We drove past the police station and the guy tells me he works there. Phew! I try to avoid breathing whatever the hell he's blowing out coz he reeks more than the morning guy. Then, he tells me they've been knocking back a few at work.

Like it's not already obvious!

This guy continued to talk the rest of the way, changing subjects almost every sentence, and blowing out a massive amount of alcohol fumes with every breath. I've never been so glad to get to my stop. I said goodbye to the old lush, got off the bus and staggered, I mean walked home.

Sixth Sense 2 *Contains spoilers*

Do a Ctrl-A or just click & drag to highlight the below text.

Why did Malcom's patient shoot him at the start of SS(1)? Because Malcolm didn't help him like he said he would.

In SS2 it's revealed that Malcolm's patient (& murderer) is actually an adult Cole. In SS(1) Malcolm's ghost actually traveled back in time to find and treat a young Cole, but as we all know from the end of SS(1), while Malcolm accepts his death and moves on, Cole still sees dead people!

Now, after years of seeing dead people at all hours of the day and night (as will be chronicled in SS2), Cole goes insane and takes out his frustration on the one person who he thinks let him down most, Dr. Malcolm Crowe.

The mandatory Shyamalan twist being that Malcolm won't even attempt to help Cole until after Cole has killed him!

Babies; nature's chemical weapons

Liz falls for it almost every time. I pick Amber up and stick her butt in Liz's face and ask if she thinks Amber is dirty, so Liz takes a big sniff. And that's definitely the wrong thing to do when someone shoves a baby's butt in your face :D

Using Blogging powers for good, not evil

Mog's Blog reminded me of my recent trip to the Vet/Kennel where I was picking up Anzac (who we're trying to find a new home for, by the way, so if you live in the Los Angeles area, or even the Southern California area, and are in the market for a good doggy, check out this page.)

Mog stopping to pick up a kitten abandoned on the highway reminded me of the kitten a chap brought into the Vets while I was there. The little guy can't have been much more than four weeks old yet someone had dumped him in this fellow's yard. The reason for the dumping was quite clear; although the kitten was very cute, his left eye was twice the size of his right and it was obvious he'd need surgery, but it was just as obvious that he was destined to go through life with one eye. So someone didn't want to deal with the expense of taking care of the kitten, and couldn't even be stuffed taking him to the animal shelter and claiming they'd found him, so they just dumped him in someone else's yard. Nice one, asshole, solve your problem by making it someone else's problem.

In the two days that the chap said he'd had him, the kitten had totally bonded with him; finding himself a surrogate mother. The guy was most likely in for several hundred dollars of Vets' bills, and at the end of it all, his new pet would still be missing one eye, but the guy didn't seem overly concerned with that; he was more concerned with making sure the kitten got taken care of, properly.

Some people are pet people, some people should never be allowed near pets.

More from the douche bag

This guy is great! :)

I told you I love to hate him. And it's not just me, either, everyone loves to hate him...or maybe everyone just hates him :P The guy loves to talk, but he always seems to ask the most inane questions. Today we had an hour long training session with a Cisco Rep on how to use our new Cisco phones (which come with voicemail), and we lucked out and had Mr. D in our session. When the Cisco Rep was talking about the voicemail, Mr. D asks her what they're supposed to do with voicemails. The Cisco Rep appears confused by Mr D's question, and rightly so, because it's definitely a "what the f**k???" kind of question.

"Um, what do you mean, what do you do with voicemails?"

First up Mr D blows his own trumpet by saying many people know his name, as if he's extremely important (more likely everyone knows his name so they know who to avoid), then he elaborates, explaining that because everyone knows him, he keeps getting calls from people so he has all these voicemails (today is our second day in the new office with voicemail), but as Mr D continues with his story he informs us that it's actually the one guy who's called and he just leaves his name and number but no message. And apparently he's left ten messages since yesterday.

Mr D explains that there's no actual message, just a name and a number, and he appears averse to just returning the call and asking why this fellow keeps calling him, so, what should he do? Should he forward the messages to someone? What...should he...do?

The Rep takes in the room and our expressions, and she realizes that we're all familiar with Mr D and his WTF questions, so she goes with the flow and tells Mr D that if this guy has left 10 messages for him, maybe he should return his calls.

As Mr D is about to ask something equally stupid, or perhaps repeat his question in the hope that he will be provided with some magical number to which he can forward all his voicemails and never have to deal with them himself, two other coworkers cut him off and ask slightly more relevant questions, like how many days will messages remain in the voicemail box, and how many messages can it hold. Everyone thinks Mr D will be the first to discover the answer to that second question. With the training session over everyone got up to leave, except for Mr D who apparently stayed behind to ask more WTF questions.

One of the best features of our new phones is call forwarding. We decided we should set up Call Forward so all our incoming calls go to Mr D's line. We also thought of leaving voicemails for him using a funny voice and giving Mr D's own number, so if he ever returns our calls he will get his own voicemail. Mr D makes life so much fun :)

Where's my coffee?

We moved to our new office today (finally merged with the crew from the Main Office after 5 years, that I've been here) , and I find out I'm still in charge of the coffee. I thought I'd be able to fob it off on some poor, unsuspecting schmoe from the Main Office but no such luck. It's a little annoying, and disruptive, to be in charge of the coffee. I get bugged a few times a day for change (because I keep all the money, I think I'll just start telling people I have no change) or because the pot needs refilling, and yet we have a Keurig machine which makes an 8oz cup of freshly brewed coffee whenever you need it.

In preparation for the move I did some OT this past weekend. There were a few peeps in the office but I was the only one there that drank coffee, so I was damned if I was going to make a 12-cup pot of coffee for me; I just used the Keurig machine. Mid-way through the morning one of the guys I love to hate showed up.

Just to bitch about this guy for a minute, we used to host training sessions for engineers from other bureaus, and we'd cater for those sessions, brewing up a pot of coffee and bring in donuts and pastries. Although there was also coffee in the break room, this guy would come into the conference room and help himself to a cup of coffee and a donut or two, but he'd wait until nobody was in there to pull this shit. It got so you couldn't leave the room for a second or he'd be in there eating everything. In the break room we have both the Keurig machine, and a drip filter pot. The drip filter coffee is crap, compared to the Keurig stuff, but this guy drinks the drip filter coffee and claims it's gourmet stuff (I make it, it's nothing flash, it's the cheapest coffee I can buy at those office supply stores. It's crap), but I think he drinks the pot stuff so he doesn't have to pay for it. The pot coffee is donation, whatever you want to pay for it. 25c, 50c, 60c, doesn't matter. The Keurig is 60c a cup, not negotiable, unless you want to pay more. This guy got the idea in his head that the drip filter coffee is free, and despite being told otherwise, in his mind it's free so he never pays for it. Every time you tell him it's not free, he acts amazed as if that's the first time he's heard that.

So he gets in to work on Saturday, goes into the breakroom, comes out and asks me what they're doing about the coffee. I play dumb with him because as I said earlier, I love to hate this jerk.

The machine is in there, I say.

But there's no coffee, he says.

Sure there is, I say. There's a whole rack of the K-cups for the coffee machine.

In the pot? he asks, probably really confused.

I relent and tell him I wasn't making a pot for just a couple of people so he can just use the machine.

Now this is why I love to hate this guy.

Instead of paying 60c for a cup of freshly brewed coffee from the Keurig machine in our breakroom, this guy hits the streets of downtown L.A. on a Saturday morning, in search of a coffee shop, where he will probably spend $2 or more for a cup of ordinary coffee. Of course while he's out for an hour he's still billing OT, even though he's not actually working in the office. Finally, when he gets back in, he complains that nothing is open, at 8:30am, in downtown L.A., on a Saturday morning.

So today we move into the new office, we're finding our cubicles and getting used to a new office layout, we're unpacking all our boxes (almost everyone has 10 boxes, some people have a lot more), the office is pretty much a madhouse.

And this guy comes up to me and asks what we're doing about coffee.

I play dumb again, but I'm busy unpacking and setting up computers for me and my girls so I'm not really into the game today. The best I can manage to do is to tell him the Keurig machine will be installed tomorrow (the vendor took it away Monday and is hopefully servicing it prior to it's reinstallation in our new office).

What about today? asks this guy.

We've got a cafeteria downstairs, I tell him (and we do, it's a friggin' awesome cafeteria). I tell him, if you want coffee, go downstairs and get a cup.

I just know once the Keurig machine is set up tomorrow, he's going to ask where the drip filter pot is. But because the biggest wig in the office doesn't want a drip filter pot in the breakroom, we're not setting it up. This guy won't be pleased, but I don't give a shit.

Actually I must give at least a shit, or I wouldn't have posted this :P

I wish we lived in the south, coz this guy is the perfect candidate for that unbeatable southern defense plea: "He just needed killin'."

Real Life in dreams

I hit snooze a couple of times this morning. The third time the alarm went off I was dreaming I was in a planetarium with Liz and we were lying back watching the star show but it turned into one of those 3D-rides you go on at Amusement Parks, where you watch the movie as the seats move around and you feel like you really are flying over Antarctica in a helicopter.

When the alarm went off the song on the radio intruded into my dream but it didn't wake me up, it just became the background track for the 3D-movie. Liz eventually had to shove me to wake me up :P

I've turned alarm clocks off in my dreams before. Quite literally picked up the alarm clock in my dream (and in real life, too, I guess) and turned the alarm off, and the dream continued on but without the alarm ringing.

The most bizarre time I did this I was playing soccer (in my dream of course) on the field at my old Primary School and when the alarm went off I noticed a door in the field, like a storm shelter door. I opened the door and went down the steps and sitting on a shelf in this storm shelter was a ringing alarm clock. I picked it up, turned off the alarm, and went back up on to the field and continued my game of soccer.

Not Safe For Work

Nooooo, definitely not safe for work, or kiddies, or prudes, or Republicans...not even sure the Democrats would like this one. Nope, you've got to have a wicked sense of humor (and some privacy) to appreciate "Do you take it?" by The Wet Spots.

So long, and thanks for the Fish Tape

Before we went out earlier I threw out some trash, and as I threw it into the dumpster I saw an extremely long strip of narrow metal and I thought, that looks like a Fish Tape. Liz doesn't like me Dumpster Diving and as she was already in the car with Amber I knew I had no chance of checking out my hunch, so out we went.

When we returned and put Amber to bed she had a poopy diaper, so I took it straight out to the dumpster (rather than leave it in our bin in the kitchen all night to stink our house up) and when I lifted the lid of the dumpster, there was my Fish Tape. In I went and as soon as I grabbed the tape I knew my hunch was correct. I managed to pull it out and the only problem with it was the handle had come off the side so the Fish Tape couldn't be wound back into the case.

No problem. There was still a square bit where the handle had been attached (it looks more like the handle slips on and off this square, so maybe they just lost the handle) and I have spanners, so I took the Fish Tape into the garage, took out a 1/2" spanner, which fit the square perfectly, and using the spanner as a handle I wound the Fish Tape back into the case.

I was going to buy a Fish Tape because at some point I want to run the Internet/Cable TV cables down the inside of family room wall behind the TV, and I'll need Fish Tape to do that. But it's worth the trouble of doing that because that will look a damn sight more professional than what we currently have; cables emerging from the closet, running across the wall, over the top of the door frame, and in behind the TV. Yep, now I can do a professional cable install...but when I'm ready and not a moment before :P

Actually my sister & her husband will be here later this year, and he's an Electrical Engineer. Not quite the same as an Electrician, but damn close to it. I might enlist his help with this little project ;)

* EDIT *

Fish Tape is a thin, narrow, strip of metal with a hook of some kind on the end; in my case, it has a spiral of wire akin to a spring. The fish tape is fed down into the space inside a wall, between the drywall and the studs, until it reaches the hole you've cut in the drywall for your TV cable to come through. You then attach a thin piece of wire to the hook (wire spring) and reel in the Fish Tape, which pulls the wire up along with it. You now have a piece of thin wire in your attic running down inside the wall to the hole in the drywall which is where you'll put your TV cable outlet. In the attic is also your Cable TV cable, which you attach to the thin piece of wire. You then pull the wire back down which pulls the Cable TV cable along with it, and now, you have a small hole in your drywall with your Cable TV cables coming out of it. Finally you feed the Cable TV cable through the hole in your outlet plate, attach the plate to the wall, and you have a professionally installed (or so it would seem) Cable TV outlet where none existed before.
You do this so you don't have cables emerging from your closet and running around the floor and through doorways and across ceilings.

It's the first day of Summer!

I don't know, it might be, it might not be. I'm just being silly because Hermes, or Mr. Crabs (depending on the time of day and who's asking) has finally resurfaced. It seems like he went underground three weeks ago, and I was starting to worry about the little guy. What he was doing was molting, again. This is the second time that I know of but I'm sure he's molted more than twice. But now that he's located on the kitchen bench next to the sink he's more visible than he was when he was on top of the toy shelf in the corner of the living room. He also seems to like his new location a little more. He seems to be more active (not that we paid him much attention when he was in the corner), and a couple of times he's actually climbed on top of his log hut (a half circle of pine bark placed on its side). He may also be ready for a new shell now. When I look at the shell he was in when Liz bought him, it's so tiny compared to how large he is now. I might have to stop at the pet store and pick up another shell or two for him.

Why do Manequins have nipples?

Anatomic Correctness is the obvious answer, but while that explains proportionality of legs to arms to torsos to heads, and yes, breasts, that doesn't explain why female manequins need nipples on those breasts. The only logical answer I can come up with is so when skimpier lines of clothing are being designed, the designers can take into account the nipple location and thus ensure sufficient coverage of the nipple occurs.

The illogical answer, and the one I fear to be more accurate, is that over the years manequin sculptors developed a wicked sense of humor, or perhaps they had it all along, but in more prudish times were never allowed to express themselves. Now, in more open, accepting times (unless you're a homosexual who wants to get married to another homosexual) the average person finds nothing wrong with walking past a manequin that seems to be feeling the cold.

So, has anyone observed a male manequin in his natural state, or near-undress? Do they possess Anatomic Correctness bordering on the obscene? The question that then springs to mind is, on what side does a male manequin dress? Or are male manequins, like Barbie's on-again/off-again boyfriend Ken, in possession of nothing more than a small plastic mound?

Is it the weekend yet?

Today was my RDO (Rostered Day Off) but did I get the day off?

No, I still had to work.

Fortunately my other boss got up before I did to attend to our daughter, who managed to wake our son up, and I actually got to sleep in for half an hour or so...past 7am that is. But even 7am is technically a two hour sleep in, so it's all good.

JE had his final dentist appointment (until his regularly scheduled check-up in September) so we all went to that, then we dropped him at school and swung by my mate's place to borrow his SUV for the day. He'd already told me it would need gas. "There's a gas station just down the road," he says, as he takes a small gas can down from his garage shelf and shakes it. "Yeah, I think this should be enough to get you there." He then empties the gas can into the SUV's tank. I get in, start it up, and the needle is marginally above empty...if I use my imagination.

My mate's SUV has a real gearbox, but fortunately I know what to do with the third pedal so it's not an issue. If anything, driving a manual (stick) in the U.S. is easier than in Australia because here I'm shifting with my right hand, and I'm right-handed. In Australia you shift with your left hand unless you have a column shift...I think. It's been so long I can't remember if an Aussie car's column-shifter is on the right or left.

I made it to the gas station and put in a little over four gallons of gas, and paid $15 for the privelage, which constituted a quarter of a tank, i.e., $60 to fill this baby from Empty, I continue my journey to Ikea in West Covina. Driving on the freeway for the first time in years in a manual (I had a Puegot with a manual gearbox many years ago) was not an issue. Merging from the 605S onto the 10E was also not a huge issue, if you ever drive through that interchange in L.A. you'll know why I specifically mention it here. Got to Ikea without a problem and Liz and the baby arrived shortly afterwards.

After a bit of a run around, returning some things, keeping others which couldn't be returned because Ikea no longer sell them, eating lunch, etc, we got the under & over bedset the in-laws wanted and it was time to head back home. Just before I left I helped a lady get a HUGE Ikea box into her Ford Focus station wagon. Nobody else was around, no attendants, no other customers, and the poor lady was looking so distressed that I felt compelled to help her out. (This is what being a Christian is all about, helping each other in times of need. Not accosting customers as they leave their local 7-11 and telling them Jesus loves them and that we're living in the end of days and unless we repent we'll be left behind and lady, shut the fuck up. That's what my lovely wife told her).

Liz followed me home from the Ikea, then it was off to the local Sam's Club to pick up two Twin matresses (Why the f**k is a single matress called a Twin? It's a single matress. A Twin is actually a double bed matress, but no, a Double is really a Full. At least we can agree that a Queen is a Homosexual and a King is a...CAL-KING??? What the f**k is a Cal-King? Well it's not as wide as a regular King, but it's got the length, baby! You know what I'm talking about, size matters, right? Er...how did we get onto this conversation?

Back to the topic at hand. I dropped one of the Twin/Single matresses at our house (for use later in the year when the family comes to visit) and headed for the in-laws, arriving just seconds before the FIL got there with JE, having picked him up from school. I got a good workout (by carrying a Twin/Single matress up two flights of stairs, as well as two heavy boxes) and sweating like a pig started assembling the under & over beds, finishing just after the FIL got back from his doctor's appointment.

We returned Spyfor's SUV and hung out for a little while, and so arrived late for dinner with the in-laws where they were shouting us at our favorite local chinese restaurant (where they know us by name, I'm the gwai lo 鬼佬) . Dinner was great but after a long, hot, tiring day, all I really wanted to do was get home and have a shower. I haven't done that yet because we had to put our daughter down to bed and the little angel wouldn't go to sleep straight away, and our bathroom is right next to her bedroom, so we're on the computers instead...but at least I got to update my Blog ;)

Later all. Shower time, finally.

When ingenuity meets opportunity

Just...wow!

And now, the Million Dollar Blog.

All Hail, the Haiku Grandmaster!

Haiku Grandmaster?
Hail, the Haiku Grandmaster!
Hail, Cap'n John! Hail!

What a racket

A "disabled, homeless" conman boarded my bus this morning, the second bus which heads down Spring St. I've used quotes there because while he'd like everyone to think he's disabled and homeless, I very much doubt he is. What he is, plain & simple, is a conman.

He hobbled on board the bus, leaning heavily (and prominently) on his walking stick, then started his spiel, in espanol of course. Why in espanol? Because speakers of espanol are predominantly Roman Catholic, or at least Christian, and this guy uses that to his benefit. I see the same thing at our freeway offramps, "homeless" people deliberately targeting the hispanics, using signs written in espanol (first, with an english translation second) intended to provoke sympathy and charitable feelings in the reader. Catholocism has instilled in their espanol-speaking parishioners an almost irresistible urge to give their money away. It's why the Catholic Church is one of the richest "non-profit" organizations in the entire world, because it's so good at convincing Catholics to give away their money, whether they can afford it or not.

Back to the story.

Leaning heavily on his walking stick, the conman talks slowly and softly, in espanol, and I don't know what he's saying, maybe just preaching, I don't know. He talks for a while then says in english "ladies & gentlemen, god bless you" then he switches back to espanol. One lady (of south-american descent) fell for it and gave him a dollar. I was not surprised to see her cross herself seconds later (you know, spectacles, testicles, wallet & watch, well, that was more accurate back when a man used to carry his wallet in his left vest pocket and his fob watch in the right). I've seen this guy operate before so I ignored him as he slowly made his way down the aisle, as did most everyone else.

When we arrived at my stop I saw the conman was second-in-line at the rear door, and given how he'd leaned on his stick I figured it would take him a while to get off, so I went to the front door, which is closer to the corner anyway. As I got off the light was changing so I crossed Spring St. (with the light), got to the other side and stopped, waiting for the light to change again so I could cross 6th St. Naturally I was looking across 6th St. at this point in time, and I could not believe my eyes when I saw the conman there, on the opposite corner, running to get in line to board a north bound bus.

In the time I'd taken to cross one street, this "crippled" man had crossed both streets. Remember I said the light was changing as I got off the bus, this meant the conman had run across the road against the lights. This is the same guy who leaned so reliantly on his walking stick on my bus, and yet he was able to run to catch a second bus.

Sure enough, once he'd boarded, I saw him again slump over his stick at the front of the bus and I could hear his voice in my head as he started his spiel.

I will give him credit for having a good work ethic; it was barely 6am and he was already working the marks. That's dedication for you. But let's consider this.

He rides a bus for no more than 10 minutes, and within 60 seconds of him getting off a bus he'll be on another one, working that set of passengers. He might get just $1 on one trip, and nothing on another, but every now and then he probably hits it big and scores $10 or more, and he probably nails that at least once an hour. He probably rides the buses for almost 12 hours, 6am to 6pm, and he probably makes at least $20 per hour. Let's say he takes time out for lunch, he probably still stops for no more than 30 minutes. Time is money after all, and he probably still averages $20+ per hour for the whole day. That's a 12 hour day, by the way. That's $240 (or more) for one day, $1200 for the 5-day week, approx. $5,000 for the month, or $60,000 for the year, clear, no tax, no social security, no deductions at all. He keeps the lot! And to "earn" that $60,000 he does nothing more than ride the buses all day, fleecing naive sheep out of their money. If he really is homeless he probably sleeps at the mission, so no cost to him. Then he has dinner and breakfast at the mission, again, no cost to him. Come to think of it he probably doesn't even break for lunch (he'd have to spend his own money for that), so no lunch = no cost. So of that $5,000 he gets each month, he keeps it all.

Oh, but how humiliating it must be to have to beg for money every minute of every day, you say.

Er...are you not getting this? This guy is not "begging" for money. This is his job! He's a conman tricking gullible people into giving him money. It's not humiliating at all. If I knew that I could make a guaranteed $60,000 (that's Net) just by riding a bus for 12 hours a day, five days a week, and asking people for money...Hell yeah, I'd do it, and I wouldn't be embarrassed about it.

Look at what I do now.

I get up at 4:45 (or a little later), and I leave home at 5:30. I'm already on board a bus by 5:45, but I can get up at 4:45, have breakfast and be on board a bus at 5:15am, and I do that sometimes, too. So my "working day" would start then instead of at 6:15 when I get to my office. I currently work a 9 1/2 hour a day (but I only work 9 days in the fortnight) and I get home around 5pm. I could be riding the buses for the 12 hours like this guy, and still be home at a similar time to what I am now, and I'd be bringing home more than my current gross wage.

Hmmm...my current job will allow me 12-months of unpaid leave of absence, and at the end of that 12-months I can walk straight back into my job, no hassles, no questions asked.

I think the choice is obvious, don't you? I think it's time Cap'n John became a "disabled, homeless" Cap'n.

"Yar! I was an honest, sea-faring man, a god-fearing man. I went to Church every Sunday unless I was at sea, and then I always made sure to read my bible. Then one day a fierce sea serpent attacked my ship and bit my leg clean off. (Knock on "wooden leg" at this point, actually small plank of wood strapped to thigh). Oh, I'm not angry with God, for he was watching out for me that day. That sea serpent might have got my leg, but God made sure I'm still here today, and He made sure I can still tell you all that Jesus loves you. Oh yes, he does. Yar! Now gimme your damn money! Yar! Thank you, thank you very much. God bless you, God bless you all. Yar."

Hell, with a spiel like that, I could probably clear $100,000 per year.

Titanic 2 : The Sequel

A very well done trailer.

Liz told her side of the story, allow me to elaborate a little more.

Normally I take JE to the dentist on my Friday off, but Liz took him this time so I decided to surprise her by getting rid of the carpet on the garage floor. After all, she'd been complaining all week that she wanted it gone. This meant I had to move everything on the right side of the garage over to the left side, then pull up the carpet on the right side of the garage, then move everything in the garage back to the right side so I could pull up the carpet on the left side. Then I had to cut the carpet up into bite size pieces so I could get them out to the dumpster, and so they'd fit. I also chose to organize the garage, restacking everything neatly (I am the Tetris King) so the garage looked a gazillion percent better.

In the middle of all this Liz called wanting me to redo the shelves in the closet in the family room. The brackets holding the shelves are spaced too far apart, and the shelves are bowing in the middle from the weight of all the books.

So after I got done with the carpet, and fed Amber and put her down for her nap, I hit the family room. First I took out all the books, computer bits, toys, videos, etc, that were all on the shelves, then unscrewed the brackets and moved them several inches in to more evenly distribute the weight across the shelves. Then I restacked the shelves but this time double stacked the books (1 row in front of the other) which opened up space for all of our VHS tapes and DVDs, which had been rendered homeless when our entertainment unit bit the dust last week (Ikea stuff is reasonably study until you move it, and then it collapses).

Around 2pm I was finally finished, and had just enough time for a shower and to plop down in front of the computer, before Liz and JE arrived home, ready to head out to the first of two birthday parties (see Liz's Blog) which was at the Kids Island place I warned everyone about the other week.

We get to Kids Island and are stopped at the door because both Liz and I are wearing shoes without socks, and Kids Island require all adults to wear socks, but not shoes. No shoes (or bare feet) inside Kids Island! They will, however, sell you socks at $2 each (so $4/pair?) I don't know why it's ok for the kids to have bare feet but not the adults, but it is. So while JE and Amber ran in and started playing, I stood outside in the foyer while Liz went next door and bought us each a pair of socks. But of course she didn't just buy two pairs of socks (when any old socks would do) clever, money-conscious wife that she is, she bought socks that we can take home and wash and wear later and not be embarassed to be seen in public in them. No, I'm not faulting her for that, just explaining why it seemed to take her forever to return from the store, which was just next door, where she only went to buy socks.

I then spent the next 2 hours chasing around after Amber, who'd just woken up from the nap she'd had while Daddy was still working his ass off. So while Amber was recharged and ready to go, Daddy was ready to drop. Liz got compliments from all of the other mothers about how good I was with Amber; apparently their husbands would never help out like I was doing...come to think of it, I was the only husband/father there. What's up with that? I know some of the husbands still live and work in China while their wives & children live in the U.S., but not all of them do that. Where were the other husbands? Actually there were only one or two little ones like Amber, so it's not like husbands were really necessary.

At the bottom of Kids Island I discovered a two-years & under enclosed area, where I was able to sit down and still keep an eye on Amber. One of the other mothers brought her little guy in so for a while I watched two little nippers instead of the one. Then another mom came in with her little one, but she stayed instead of taking advantage of Capn John's Handy Dandy Babysitting Service, thank god.

The most amusing moment was when Amber got knocked over by none other than the birthday girl herself, right in front of Liz, bday girl's mom, and another mom. I pointed at bday girl and loudly proclaimed "She did it!". Liz told me to shush. "That's the birthday girl," she said. "Oh, like that makes it ok," I said. I was just being silly. Mainland Chinese are kind of funny though. They like to make jokes and things, but they have their own special brand of humor, and they often don't get jokes made by people who are not Chinese.

At 6pm that party was done and we dropped Amber with the inlaws, then headed to my mate's place for his daughter's 4th birthday party, where I was finally able to kick back, put my feet up, eat pizza, drink beer, and just relax for a few hours.

We made it home at 9:30pm and got JE into bed (Amber stayed with the inlaws) which was when Liz decided she didn't like the way I'd rearranged the garage because she couldn't find anything, like the crockpot, which was never in the garage to begin with. So she had to go through everything, rearranging all of the boxes, and more trips were made to the dumpster.

Saturday we went to the zoo late in the afternoon and ran around finding the six Dodge cars hidden throughout the zoo in some promotion Dodge are having. We saw a few animals but JE just wanted to find the cars. Dodge had painted them with photo mosaics, i.e., thousands of tiny photos of tigers fit together in such a way that when viewed from a distance they made a large picture of a tiger, or thousands of tiny photos of penguins that when viewed from a distance made a large penguin picture, etc. Now also on the cars was another picture, a cartoon of a tiger or a penguin, etc, and you had to find the picture, answer the Dodge Rep's question, and you'd get a small prize. Prize?! Did you say prize?! JE was all over that, of course he didn't care for the animals but just wanted to find the cars. Also the Zoo closes at 5pm, and by 4:30pm most of the animals have been brought in for the night so a lot of the exhibits appeared empty, so it's hardly an interesting place to be late in the afternoon. This would explain why the LA Zoo closes at 5pm, even during summer with Daylight Saving Time, instead of staying open a lot later like other zoos do.

After the zoo we stopped at a park just around the corner from Liz's parents' house. Liz called her parents to see if they wanted us to bring JE to their place, or if they wanted to come to the park and get him and Amber. They said they'd come to the park so Liz hung up, and the kids played for a while longer, but Liz's parents never arrived.

I told Liz they'd gone to the wrong park.

How could they go to the wrong park, she said, we're right around the corner from their house, they bring the kids to this park all the time.

Then her phone rang. It was her parents. They'd gone to the wrong park.

Now I will cut them some slack because the park they drove to is on the same street as the park we were at, but it was in the next city over! The park we were at was just around the corner from their house!

JE was more than willing to stay with his grandparents that night but Amber sometimes has attachment issues, and Saturday night she wanted to stay with Mum and Dad. She'll go to her grandparents when she's in that mood but she refuses to stay with them, and she'll scream for me to come and get her if they hold on to her.

Sunday we managed to sleep in late then did nothing all day, which is very satisfying, but can be very hard to accomplish when you have kids.

Thus endeth another weekend.

Where there's a will...

The guys doing our floor have almost finished downstairs, I expect they will work on the stairs next. They're doing an excellent job. We have the family room cleared out for them, as well as the upstairs hallway. Both our children's bedrooms are packed with stuff with from the family room.

Luckily when the Adelphia guys installed our digital cable, there was enough cable to go from the family room into the hallway and into JE's room, where I set up my computer, the cable modem, and router, amid all the clutter.

So I can still type Blog entries, surf the Net...and play Warcraft! :D

The kids are with the Inlaws, and Liz has gone out to Ontario Mills Mall, so I get to play by myself without interruptions. I said BY not WITH!

Condoleeza Rice : No better friend...

Public Service Announcement

If you subscribed to Netflix prior to January 15, 2005, regardless of whether or not you are still a subscriber, you should visit this website to check out the results of the class action lawsuit against Netflix.

Frank Chavez signed up for Netflix as many of us did for the convenience of their service, in which Netflix originally promised "unlimited" DVD rentals, for a flat monthly fee, the DVDs to be transmitted via "one-day delivery". Don't bother looking for that specific wording because after Mr. Chavez brought a lawsuit against Netflix they changed the wording of their advertising and Terms of Use. Netflix acknowledge that the Litigation was a contributing factor in them modifying their Terms of Use, but they deny any wrongdoing.

Nevertheless Mr. Chavez not only won his suit (or more to the point, Netflix agreed to settle) but he filed a motion to certify a class of all similarly situation individuals, i.e., a class action law suit, which was approved. If you are a current Netflix subscriber, and have been since at least January 15, 2005, you may be entitled to a free 1-month upgrade. If you are no longer a subscriber but were prior to January 15, 2005, you may be entitled to a free month of Netflix.

More information about the settlement can be found here.

That is all.

You know it's a good workout...

when you have a shower, and 30 minutes later you're still sweating. That, or you know you're out of shape.

I got up this morning at the usual time, although that's arguable as I didn't hit snooze 10 times :P, got dressed, had a quick breakfast, ran around like a lunatic tracking down my shorts, door keys, padlock, etc, and still caught the early bus that comes by just 25 minutes after I get up.

Oddly enough, the early bus which comes by at 5:10am is more crowded than the bus half an hour later. Go figure. I still got a seat because even though several people were standing up, there were at least 4 empty seats at the back. I had to push past one guy who mistakenly thought I wanted to stand up in the aisle like him, but I got my seat and settled down to continue reading Thief of Lives.

The bus stopped at the El Monte Bus Station and a few people got off, and then we were on the Freeway and on our way into downtown. And then the bus stopped. On the Freeway. And not at a designated stop. The engine was off, the lights went out, and the driver called out, "Please, nobody get off the bus! Please, nobody get off the bus!" I didn't repeat myself, the bus driver did.

As the world famous Richie Benaud once said "What the f**k's going on?!"

The bus driver got out, then got back on the bus, and we heard him tell dispatch "I don't know what happened." The engine started and the driver rev'd it a bit, got out, messed around outside some more, got back on, rev'd the engine a bit more, and we were under way!

So I got into downtown earlier than usual, but later than expected. The doors to the Plaza where the 24-hour Fitness is located were locked. Automatic doors that automatically don't open. What a concept!

Fortunately a guy walking past was wearing workout clothes so I caught up to him and after a little verbal interaction that I like to call "conversation", I ascertained that he was also going to the gym so I walked with him. Great thing, conversation, you never know when it will come in handy.

I hit the gym, did 15 minutes on this treadmill/stairmaster/ski-machine type thing, had a shower, put my shirt on, and it gets wet because I'm still sweating.

When I left the gym I was passed by one of the two buses that stop outside my office. Fortunately there was a stop at the other end of the block and several people were waiting to board so I quckly ran and caught the bus. That's right, I'd just worked out and I was still able to run a whole block! I know, very impressive :)

I got to work about 30 minutes late (I blame the bus), and I'm still sweating. To make matters worse, we have a new landlord who wants to be rid of us (we're actually moving in a month or two), so he's being a total bastard and not turning on the A/C until at least 7am, so our office is like an oven (well not quite, but it's still a lot warmer than is comfortable).

Actually that did help, because my shirt dried out fairly quickly in our hot office :P

I'm still thinking I might need a second t-shirt to put on after working out, then after I get to the office and stop sweating I can change into my dress shirt. Of course maybe once I've been working out for a while I might stop sweating a lot sooner.

I was extremely impressed by a girl running on the treadmill/stairmaster/ski-machine type thing next to me. She was there, going like the clappers when I got on, she ran flat out the entire 15 minutes I was working out (and I had a good pace on me) and when I left she was still on the machine running her arse off...maybe literally.

What the???

I did a search on Netflix for The Craic and do I find it? I haven't yet, because Netflix tell me that 466 movies titles matched my searched. Oh, really? There were 465 other movies with the word Craic in their name?

Let's see...the first movie is 10,000 Black Men Named George...nope, no Craic there.
What's the second movie? It's African Grace: A West African Dance for Cardio Fitness...er...no Craic there, either.
The third movie is Alamo: A True Story of Courage. Hmm, no Craic there.
So what's going on? My search cannot have returned every movie Netflix carry, because I find it hard to believe their library consists of just 466 titles...so how on earth did they decide that 466 movies matched my search terms? And if none of the titles matched my search term, why wouldn't Netflix admit it?

I doubt Netflix do carry The Craic, because a Netflix search for the star, Jimeoin KcKeown, gives me three hits, and none of them are for Jimeoin, but at least all three actors had the surname McKeown. I'm sure none of the 466 Movie Titles have Craic in their title.

Stupid Netflix search engine.

A close call

A few years ago when Jonno was still alive (actually almost 20 years ago) we had a very close call with death.

While visiting a friend who lived not too far from the Dandenong mountains just outside of Melbourne, we went for a drive up to an observatory on the top of the mountains. We stayed up there and watched the sun set, then drove back down with our friend giving directions from the back seat, where he was sandwiched between his girlfriend and another girl friend, i.e. a friend who was a girl.

It was kind of like rally driving, and with our friend accurately calling out the direction and angle of each approaching turn Jonno started driving faster and faster, relying on our friend's memory and knowledge of a windy, hilly road that he'd driven many times before.

At the bottom of the hill our road met the main road, and we were required by law to yield to any traffic on this road. Just as our friend was mentioning this to Jonno we hit the bottom of the hill. Jonno glanced sideways and saw the head lights of a car right beside him. I'm not sure how fast we were going, but it was certainly faster than was safe for that road at that time of night.

Jonno hit the brakes sending the car into a skid, which he controlled perfectly. The car slid sideways and I'm sure we freaked out the people in the other car, as Jonno's maneuver had our headlights pointing right at them. Our friend in the back was practically deafened by the screams from the two girls either side of him as Jonno slid his car to a stop, finishing up right in front of a small kiosk. We were so close to the kiosk that I was unable to open my door without hitting the wall of the kiosk.

I don't remember being scared, I didn't even think I was about to die. Thoughts of death or the impending collision with another car never even entered my mind. This was just a year or two after I'd almost killed myself in a high-speed collision with a massive tree that left my car destroyed, so you'd think I would have been freaked out at another close call, but I wasn't.

Did you ever think you were destined for something greater than what you've yet accomplished? Thoughts like these can be dangerous. They can give you a false sense of security, making you think that while you're not quite immortal, you can't die yet because you haven't accomplished whatever it is you're here to do.

Worst Job Ever!!!

You need to watch the whole thing, coz the punchline is, quite naturally, at the end of the clip.
You'll also need speakers, but don't watch it at work...unless you have headphones ;)

Wow ! ! !

One of the girls at the office who has a bit of trouble walking (& who hadn't eaten that morning) requested someone get her Carl's Jr., the only place in downtown that was both within walking distance AND open. When I went around to see her she offered to buy my lunch as well, so off I went to 7th & Broadway, which is one of the intersections the protestors passed through. This was at 10:30am and the crowds had already began gathering and marching. The roads were quiet, the sidewalks were empty, but as I got close to Carl's Jr. I could hear the noise of the crowd. Oddly enough the Carl's Jr. was also very quiet, with very few customers inside. Many people were still obeying the directive "No shopping". I purchased our lunch and made my way back to the office.

While having lunch with the girls (I'm the only guy in my unit) we decided to visit 6th & Broadway, which is one block from the office and another intersection through which the protestors would be passing.

At 6th & Broadway we stood in the middle of the sidewalk and watched the crowds pass by chanting "Si su puede" and "Aqui estamos y no nos vamos", which mean Yes, we can, and We're here and not leaving.

The protestors were mostly in the road, walking in front of us, but a few people were up on the sidewalk, and they walked around us as they went, and then there were more people walking around us, and then, had I not been a six-foot tall macho gringo, my girls might have been swept away with the crowd. As it was people would still almost walk into us before realizing that just like them, we were here and not leaving, either!

I stood there, arms crossed, and attempted to look friendly but also a little intimidating (a nod and a smile, and a pair of sunglasses help in those situations), and everyone was forced to move around me and thus around the girls. At one point a gap appeared between us and couple of guys in front of us, also just standing, watching the crowd, so we quickly stepped forward and joined ranks with them, and the crowd continued to flow around us, chanting, singing, cheering, waving their flags, etc.


We were in the middle of everything for I don't know how long, but it seemed like a long time, and it was intense. Finally there was a substantial break in the crowd, not that all of the protestors had passed us by, just they were all stopped down at 7th Street doing crowdy things, chanting, etc.

We decided we'd had enough viva la revolución for one day so back to the office we strolled, only to see down at 7th & Spring the same crowd we'd left at 7th & Broadway, and they were heading up Spring. We stood out the front of our building and watched everyone march past. Being that this was not the planned route, several cars and a bus were forced to turn around and head back up to 6th and make a detour.

Wow ! ! ! It was an amazing experience!

This is going to be BIG!!!

There are two illegal immigrant protests scheduled for today in downtown Los Angeles. Government officials estimate the number of potential protesors to be approximately half a million, combined, but there were that many for just one protest in March, and that was almost twice as many as they were expecting. I would not be surprised if more than a million protestors turn out today; that's at each protest, not just combined.

This morning while waiting for my bus I noticed a lot less traffic on the roads than usual. My bus was a lot emptier than usual. The freeway was a lot emptier than usual. A coworker who rides the train just confirmed that her train...was a lot emptier than usual.

Why is that significant?

Because today's protests are being run under a "No Business As Usual" slogan, meaning illegals should not go to work, or school, or shopping, etc. They should not do any of the things they'd normally do, except for the protest, they can go to that. So the fact that the buses & trains roads and freeways are emptier than usual means a lot of immigrants are not going to work or school, etc, but are taking the day off for the protest.

This is going to be big.

To top it off, our Mayor sent out a memo saying if we want to take part in the protest, or just take the day off, that we need to use our own time and request it in advance...but of course the Mayor can go to the protest, on City time. I find that just a little hypocritical.

Ghostbusters!

Last night I took several photographs of the ghost in our house. They came out clear as anything. It was obvious she was a ghost because she was floating around the top of our ceiling. My first thought was "I've got to post these on my Blog!"

Then I woke up!

I can't believe that I took photos of a dream ghost and all I could think of was posting the pictures on my Blog! HA! :D

Bus Drivers

I love Public Transport, but I'm quickly growing to hate the Bus Drivers. When the Bus Drivers Union went on strike a couple of years ago and totally disrupted my commute, picketing & shutting down a local Hub, I actually didn't mind too much. For the couple of months that they were On Strike I got to ride for free, because the other privately owned bus line (which had a bus I could also ride into downtown) accepted October's Monthly Pass right through into January. Then, because I wanted the Hub reopened, and because it was Christmas, I had an idea to help settle the dispute, so I approached a group of picketers with my suggestion, which wouldn't have worked because of the way the MTA operated. I won't bore you with details of my plan, suffice to say that at that point in time I was keen to help the Drivers get back to work. Now, after witnessing how arrogant some of the drivers can be, I won't be as inclined in the future to help them out if presented with the opportunity.

The Driver I rode home with today is one such jerk. This guy will not wait for you if you're not at the Stop when he pulls up, unlike the prick (did I just say that?) who I talked about the other week who won't stop even if you are waiting.

A few weeks ago I ran to catch the bus driven by today's Driver, and I got to the stop, which was at the other side of a signal controlled Pedestrian crossing, just seconds after the last passenger boarded. Now I thought I was good because Pedestrians were in the Crosswalk, so the Driver faced a flashing yellow, which in Los Angeles means stop and yield to all Peds in the Crosswalk. But just as I got to the Stop and waved to the Driver, he pulled away from the curb, veered sharply across two lanes, and accelerated his bus through the Crosswalk narrowly missing a couple of Peds.

So it wasn't really a surprise to me today when a guy running to catch my Bus, being driven by the same Driver, was unsuccesful. As the Driver pulled away from the curb the guy, running next to the bus, began smacking the window. He even followed the bus out into the street smacking the window the whole time. Needless to say the Driver didn't stop, and I couldn't blame him. The MTA ran a campaign a while back (and you'll still see some posters up in some buses) about not running to catch the buses, so the Driver is only following a Company directive.

Then, at the next intersection, a guy standing in the middle of the road (divided thoroughfare with him standing on the concrete median strip) waved to our bus as we turned left in front of him (we had a left-turn signal). There's a Stop immediately after our left-turn and the Ped in the middle of the road probably figured the Driver would wait for him; some Drivers will, they have for me in the past. No prizes for guessing that today's Driver pulled up at the Stop, and when nobody got on or off, promptly drove away with the Ped watching thinking "Prick!" or something equally rude.

I'm sure the Drivers have to deal with rude, arrogant passengers as well, so that most likely affects their attitude, and then their attitude affects us and our day, and it's a vicious circle.

I've now reminded myself of the lady at JE's school who I've dubbed the Parking Nazi, kind of like Seinfeld's Soup Nazi. Like the Bus Drivers, this is a lady with a position of authority (or who at least wields some power) who's let her position go to her head. Like the Bus Drivers, in her defense, I'm sure she deals with rude, arrogant parents every single day as she tries to do her job, with the end result being that this woman is now just a bitch, or a Parking Nazi, (which I'll shorten to PN for short and to avoid offending people)

The PN's job is to ensure that at both the beginning and end of the school day the kids are dropped off and picked up as fast, efficiently, and as safe as possible, and that cars remain on school grounds for as little time as possible.

My first run in with the PN was one afternoon when my wife and I arrived a little early to pick up JE. Liz pulled into the school's Driveway and because the signs on the road state to do so, she pulled all the way forward to the end of the drive. It being a rather warm afternoon I got Amber out of the car and walked towards JE's classroom. The PN came storming up and was almost yelling when she told me that I couldn't leave the car. Misunderstanding her statement, thinking she meant I couldn't even get out of the car, I told her I wasn't going to sit in the hot car with my baby daughter for 10 minutes. So the PN started on about how the cars couldn't be left unattended, etc. When I told her my wife was still in the car she shut up and went prowling for more vulnerable prey.

Yesterday I dropped Liz and JE at school because JE had a Field Trip and Liz was going along to help out, as some parents do. I had to take A. for her 18-month checkup (which went great, thanks for asking) so I needed the car for the morning. At 11:25am, as I left the doctor's office and headed towards the school, I called Liz to tell her I was on my way. Liz told me not to hurry, they wouldn't be back until noon, so I stopped and got some lunch for A. then continued on to the school, where I pulled foward, past several other cars, and parked at the very front of the Driveway. I got A. and her lunch out, and went and sat on the seats near JE's classroom. Around noon a School Bus pulled up, but JE & Liz didn't get out; it wasn't their bus. Already late, a lot of the parents were now really freaking out that their kids didn't get off this Bus.

It was about then that the PN came around, asking who were the owners of the four cars parked in the Driveway. She didn't ask me but spoke to a group of Chinese ladies nearby (most of the kids in JE's school are Chinese, so their parents are naturally Chinese as well ;). I overheard her asking if they owned any of the cars, and her tone was not pleasant at all. I'm sure dealing with arrogant Chinese parents (I'm allowed to say that, my wife and in-laws are all Chinese) has forced the PN to adopt her "Screw You, I'm Right!" demeanor. Not to generalize but while the Chinese may not have coined the phrase "Easier to apologize afterwards than ask permission first" they sure seem to have adopted it as their personal motto. Damn, I'm really sticking it to a lot of people in this Rant, aren't I :D

So the PN comes around, all swaggering and arrogant, demanding to know who owns the cars which are sitting empty in the Driveway (and blocking the Buses), and although nobody speaks up, one by one the cars are driven away and parked elsewhere (including that of yours truly, heh heh heh ;). Except for two cars, naturally the most inconveniently parked two, which remain there for another half an hour, making it very hard for the driver of Liz & JE's bus when it finally arrives almost an hour behind schedule to pull up to the curb. A guy gets off the bus and, just like the PN, starts yelling, demanding to know who owns the car blocking bus. Although the owner must be there among the parents, naturally nobody owns up. Liz and I left before we got to see who the owners of the cars were. I'm sure they got chewed out when they finally went to get in their car, assuming the teachers stuck around to find out who they were.

Well, that was a little long, I hope it was as amusing for you to read as it was cathartic for me to write :D

Public Service Announcement

This is a public service announcement to Parents everywhere.

Stay away from Kids Island.

The wife had thought about holding our son's birthday party there but it seemed a little expensive. I figured everywhere is going to be expensive but she sent me that link above so I checked it out, and she's right...although she's not right enough (forget I said that).

They're not only expensive, they're a rip off.

A 15-kid party costs $385. Simple math tells you that's $25/kid, although each additional kid is just $15.

So what do you get for your $25/kid?

You get access to Kids Island for 2 hours (well I would hope so, this is a party after all).
You get a bouncy castle for the kids to bounce around in for 2 hours.
You get a host to keep an eye on the kids bouncing around for 2 hours.
You get a gift bag...for the birthday child.
Gift bags for the other kids cost $3.50, each, but you better spring for the deluxe gift bag at $6/kid if you don't want to look cheap. 15 kids is another $50 or so for gift bags.

You do get face painting or temporary tattoos, but tips are appreciated (on top of your $385) coz Kids Island obviously don't pay their staff enough.
You also get party decorations (for your party, go figure) and 15 party balloons, and invitations, and paper plates, cups, napkins, etc.
You get the use of their serving utensils, pizza cutter, cake knife, servings spoons, etc.
The selection of party food is quite extensive though, just make sure you pick it up from the store of your choice before hand, because you don't get any food for your $385.

So for $385 you get a bouncy castle for 2 hours, face painting and tattoos, and a host. Make sure you tip the host, too, because that $385 does not include a gratuity.

Last year (or maybe the year before) Liz and I arranged a get together for a bunch of her relatives at our local Dave & Busters. I seem to recall it costing us around $500. That included food & drinks for everyone, D&B Funcards for the kids...and I could be wrong but I thought that also included a tip.

Am I being cheap? Am I expecting too much for my $385? They're charging $25/kid and NOT feeding them! I'm sorry but if I pay you almost $400 to host a party for my kid and his friends I expect you to feed them as well. I can understand having to provide the cake myself, but at $25/head I expect a meal as well. I'm pretty sure I can do Chuck E. Cheese for less than that, and at least they know how to do a kid's party right.

So we joined the gym yesterday, and afterwards Liz commented about the ladies showers in the ladies locker rooms not affording much privacy. Now this is a funny thing I've noticed (not personally...ok, sometimes witnessed first hand) about one big difference between men and women, specifically locker rooms/change rooms.

Pretty much everywhere I've gone (the country is irrelevant) if you're a guy taking a shower after gym (or where ever) you're going to be showering next to another guy (or you could be) because next to you on the wall will be another shower head.

Women, on the other hand (except in prison) have private shower stalls, in some cases they even have private changing rooms.

Is this related to mens' bathrooms forcing guys to stand next to each other while peeing? Are men just more comfortable with being naked in each other's presence? Or is this something more sinister? Is this actually a plot to keep women down?

Think about it for a second. There's this image of an ideal woman stuffed down our throats at every turn, so women buy all these beauty products, undergo plastic surgery, spend a small fortune on clothes, etc, all in the pursuit of endeavoring to look like the "perfect woman".

Now what if women knew that was a lie? What if they woke up to the fact that there is not only no perfect woman, but that they themselves are in fact...NORMAL!!!

Imagine a woman standing naked in a room with several other naked women...uh oh...cold shower time...ok, I'm over that...so you have these women, showering after gym, or where ever, and they're all standing next to each other showering just like guys do, and of course they notice, like guys do, that there is no perfect body. That all of these other women are really not much different from them. They all have a little cellulite, or slightly chunky thighs, or butts that are not tiny and practically non-existant. Translation, they all look like real women.

What's going to happen?

The fashion world will crash and burn. Makeup companies will go bankrupt. Clothing companies will go out of business. Ok, maybe that's over reacting a little...but isn't that how women tend to react when they look in a mirror?

I leave you with these funny pictures, which are not quite that funny when you realize how accurate they are. Now this is not to say men live in a fantasy world, because both pictures are extreme examples, but I believe they are still fairly accurate depictions of the way men and women see themselves. Sad but true.

Eights years, like it was a day

Tomorrow Liz and I will have been married eight years. I must be doing something right ;)

Yesterday we had an anniversary brunch at the Queen Mary, just the two of us. I tried to talk Liz into doing the Ghost Tour afterwards but she wouldn't have anything to do with that. She decided to join a gym instead. So we stopped at a local 24-Hour Fitness, got the tour, and were talking with the guy about what packages Liz would be interested, when the guy asked if I was interested in joining as well. One thing led to another, waiving of associating fees if I signed up, etc...and the next thing I know I've joined the gym as well.

We decided Liz could hit the local gym where we'd signed up. She'll either drop both kids with her parents after picking JE up from school then go to the gym, or alternatively the gym has a daycare center where for $1/hr you can leave your kids while you work out.

There is a 24-Hour Fitness Gym just a couple of blocks from my office, and because our membership gives us access to all 24-Hour Fitness Gyms we figured I could hit that gym before work.

Because my knees are messed up from various stupid things I did in my youth (and in my not-so-youth) I figured I'd work out on the zero impact ski-machine. I could burn calories and lose weight without constantly jarring my knees.

So this morning I exercised for the first time in a while and boy are my legs sore.

With the elevators in my building "Out Of Order" I'm glad I didn't go to the gym before work or I would never have made it up those thirteen flights of stairs to my office.

Why I hate "competitive" children's sports...

because someone always takes things too damn far.

I just read an article in Sports Illustrated about a Tee-ball little league team. Tee-ball is like baseball but for younger kids, who hit a stationary baseball off a waist high tee instead of facing down a pitcher.

On one Tee-ball team in particular was an 8-year old autistic boy, who I'll call Freddy (not his real name, and if you like stories with happy endings stop reading here) and Freddy's team had made it into the Tee-ball playoffs for their league.

Tee-ball has a participatory rule which states that every player who shows up must be allowed to bat in at least three innings.

Freddy's coach was a little concerned about this rule and Freddy causing his team to lose the playoffs, so he asked everyone on the team not to tell Freddy about the upcoming game;

Freddy's mom found out and turned up anyway.

Coach couldn't ask Freddy's mom to keep him out of the game, that wouldn't be right, but it was apparently ok for Coach to pair up Freddy with Reggy (not his real name), one of the hardest pitchers on their team, for a warm-up session immediately before the game.

Coach was also ok with offering Reggie $25 to take Freddy out, and I don't mean for pizza and a movie.

Reggie's first pitch hit the 8-year old Freddy in the groin, sending him in tears to his mother. When Freddy's mom encouraged him to get back in and keep playing, Coach approached Reggie and told him to hit Freddy even harder.

Reggie's next pitch hit Freddy in the side of the head, drawing blood. Coach then approached Freddy and told him the balls must be after him that day and perhaps he should sit out the game. Freddy refused to play and his team won.

Coach never paid Reggie his $25 and claims he never made such an offer. Reggie's father says he did.

So you have a little league Coach willing to bribe one of his young players to seriously injure a slightly disabled team mate just to win a game.

Now I said this story doesn't have a happy ending, but that's only because the court case against Coach hasn't yet been decided. Charged with aggravated assault, conspiring to cause injury, contributing to the delinquency of a minor, and a few other things, Coach insists he's done nothing wrong and his attorney claims he's being vilified.

And we have people like this acting as role models to our children. Then again the Major League players, Coach's role models, take steroids and other illegal performance enhancement drugs just to win games, and then they lie about it, even in court. MLB should offer Coach a contract, it seems he'd fit right in.

I found an update on ESPN's website.

Cats

Yesterday we made it to church just in time to drop the kids in Sunday School and catch the last 3/4 of the service, then it was off to Hollywood to meet up with Xinh and see the musical play, Cats, at The Pantages.

Immediately following Church we grabbed lunch (or breakfast) for Liz who hadn't eaten before church, and then we put L.A.'s quasi-Public Transport system to the test, by riding the Gold Line from Pasadena into Union Station in downtown L.A., then transferring to the Red Line and out to Hollywood. The Gold Line took almost 40 minutes to get us to Union Station and it was around 12:20pm by the time we got to the Red Line's platform. A few minutes later the Red Line pulled in and it was our train (the Red Line has two Final Destinations) so we boarded and a few minutes later it pulled back out and we were off.

We made it with about 15 minutes to spare, but Liz needed a Bio Break before we took our seats, and of course there was a line. Now Theatres usually close their doors right on time and refuse to allow late comers admittance, but Liz decided to risk it anyway. She lucked out, did what she needed to, and we took our seats with a few minutes to spare. The show started, and for the next 25 minutes people were shown to their seats by the ushers, which we though was very rude and disruptive to both audience and cast. Whatever happened to 1pm meaning 1pm? It's generally understood among theatre goers that if you're late to a show, you wait in the lobby until the interval, but apparently not anymore. There was even a note in the Playbill that Management reserves the right to seat latecomers if they so choose. What a cop out.

Sight of the day would have to be the demon who boarded the Red Line a couple of stops before we got off. He had the wings, the horns, a big red scythe...a little chainmail cod piece. He had the lot. Very impressive. Sorry, we didn't have our camera so no pictures, coz he was cool.

So far

This morning we joined my mate, his wife and daughter for an Easter Egg Hunt at a local park, sponsored by the city. We got there a few minutes late and as JE and I walked into the area where the Hunt was located we passed several kids & their parents leaving with baskets FULL of eggs. No surprise when we met up with Spyfor & Co. (who had arrived early) and found out the Hunt was over barely 30 seconds after it had started.

Spyfor said the organizers had announced that it was ok for parents to accompany their kiddies into the Egg Hunt Area, but the parents that went in decided to interpret this to mean "Parents, grab as many eggs as you can." Spyfor's little girl managed to secure 4 eggs, but she gave 1 to a little girl who hadn't got any, then she gave JE another when we met up with them.

We decided to visit the play area/jungle gym in the park, which oddly enough was full of kids, none of who wanted to share the one-kiddie only equipment, like swings, etc. Spyfor's wife is interested in enrolling their daughter in the tennis class at the park so we went and talked to the people in the office about tennis classes, watched a bit of the kids playing tennis, then decided to go back to Spyfor's place for refreshments.

Nibbles was corn chips, a delightfully wickedly spicy salsa, and beer and wine.

While we ate and drank and chatted away and enjoyed each others' company, JE and Spyfor's little girl spent their afternoon alternating between bouncing on the mini-trampoline and eating/drinking chocolate milk & cheetos. No, nobody threw up. Yeah, surprised me, too :D

Tomorrow we hopefully leave our little ones with the in-laws and head to Hollywood to see Cats with Xinh. I say hopefully because the FIL has gone to the hospital with abdominal pains and suspected appendicitis. Let's hope he's ok, and not just so we don't waste our Cats tickets.

* EDIT *

Turns out the FIL has nasty kidney stones, so it's not appendicitis, so we'll still be dropping the little ones with the MIL and catching Cats this afternoon. Yay! For both the FIL not having appendicitis and for going to see Cats, I'm a kitty cat, and I dance, dance, dance, and I dance, dance, dance.

Local Gas Prices

Head on over here, enter your Zip Code, and you'll get a map of your area showing local gas station locations. Beneath the map will be a table showing the gas prices at each location.

These are the prices as reported from the night before, and stations tend to change their prices at 3am or 4am, so they may not be exactly the same when you head out this morning but they should still be close.

Very useful for finding the cheapest gas in your area.

Fucking Arrogant Bus Driver

This morning we (couple of fellow commuters and I) flag down the second bus of our commute, the very same bus we flag down almost every morning for the last leg (7 blocks) of our ride to work. We're above the actual bus stop (with covered shelter) and there are no buses so the bus drives past us (and past the bus shelter) and pulls up to a stop at the corner. We arrive at the door as several passengers are getting off, so I do the right thing and stand next to the door and let the passengers get off first.

As soon as the last passenger gets off I move towards the door. I reach for the handrail inside the bus and am about to step off the curb WHEN THE DOOR SLAMS CLOSED, ALMOST CATCHING MY HAND, AND FUCKING BUS DRIVER REVS THE HELL OUT OF THE ENGINE AS HE RUNS THE YELLOW LIGHT leaving us, metaphorically, in a cloud of dust.

I kid you not, as the door closed I had to pull my hand back, and the doors still brushed my knuckles.

I hate arrogant bus drivers.

Owned!!!

This cute little fellow is also an Australian. He's called a Huntsman, and just like me, he's good at turning up in the strangest places.



















Liz and I attended a friend's wedding when we were in Australia several years ago and on our drive back home late at night I saw a shadow run across the window of my car, and I knew immediately that it was one of these little guys. So I reached down and made sure my window was wound up, then reached behind me and made sure the back window was wound up, too.

Liz asked what I was doing. I told her there was a Huntsman spider on the car and asked her to make sure her windows were wound up as well. Liz had never seen a Hunstman before, had no idea what they were (other than a spider, as I'd just said) but she humored me and made sure her side windows were wound up, too.

Then she grabbed my leg and I almost ran the car off the road.

Liz thought it was hilarious and said the spider must have come off by now, after all, we're doing 65mph.

With perfect timing the Huntsman chose that moment to run across Liz's window.

Liz didn't think that was quite so funny.

Japanese Raft Game

This is a puzzle/game where you need to get everyone across to the other side, obeying these simple rules.
Only the father, mother, and policeman can operate the raft.
The mother cannot be left with any of the sons IF the father is not present.
The father cannot be left with any of the daughters IF the mother is not present.
The criminal cannot be left with any family member IF the policeman is not present.

When the instruction page loads, click the Big Blue Circle in the bottom right corner of the page to start the game.

Now go and have fun.

Ganked from Xinh

Ruprick People Iced: Twenty-five Car Bombs Planted: Twenty-five Favorite Weapon Shank Arms Broken: One Eyes Gouged: Fifteen Tongues Cut Off: Eight Biggest Enemy: Prickly Pear Get Your HITMAN Name

That I've planted twenty-five car bombs, and iced twenty-five people, would seem to imply that my favorite weapon is not the shank but the car bomb...hmmm?

A trip to Ikea

Liz has been complaining all week (& longer) about her computer desk. The problem is she has a computer desk (one of those little study desk things you get for $50 in Ikea or Target) but she uses her computer to do practically everything, so surrounding her computer are a ton of papers for various things she's working on. Or at least they should be on her desk but now that A. is walking she can reach Liz's desk and pull everything down, which she does, and Liz pulls her hair out.

So middle of the afternoon yesterday Liz decides she wants to go to Ikea to look at desks, and we find this monstrosity:



for just $130, which is a pretty good price for that much desk. The thing is 48"x48" and stands almost 5'6" tall. The top of the desk, the work area, is all one piece of wood, well one fabricated piece, it's not solid lumber. That meant the box it came in was 50"x50". That meant it wouldn't fit in our little car. We could have had it delivered for $50 but Liz didn't want to pay for delivery, plus it meant she'd need to coordinate times with the delivery people, then tip them when they drop the desk off, etc., so no delivery.

Fortunately Ikea have cord, copious amounts of cord, in their parking lots, so I tied this large 50"x50" box up until it looked like a huge cheaply wrapped Christmas present. All of that cord around the box meant I had something to tie more cord to when I tied the box to the top of our car. With the windows down cord went through the back seat, then Liz got in the car and closed her door and I finished tying the box down, with cord through the front door windows. Then I slid into the car a la Bo & Luke Duke and we were on our way home.

We got home around 5pm, cleared out the living room, moved Liz's old desk into the corner where JE's computer goes, hooked his computer back up, then commenced putting Liz's desk together. Around 10 o'clock that night I'd finally finished putting it together, had Liz's computer hooked up, the cable modem, router, and printer hooked up, everything working, and that was it for my Sunday. I crawled into bed exhausted and ready for sleep, and rolled over, and tossed, and turned, and I think I finally got to sleep around midnight.

This morning (the second morning of Daylight Saving Time) I hit the button for my alarm and turned it off. At 4:50 when snooze hadn't gone off I realized what I'd done and thought, "Screw it, I'm sleeping in for a while. I'll be late for work but I'll just work back tonight."

At 5:40 JE came into our room, waking me up. I had a quick shower & shave, caught the 6:10 bus and made it to work just 30 minutes late. So I got almost an extra hour in bed and only have to work back 30 minutes. That's a trade I'll gladly accept :D

To top it off, this is Spring Break Week, and I'm taking Wednesday & Thursday off (Friday is my RDO, so I'm already almost halfway through this week :D

Paying it forward

Yesterday I had an audit up in Lancaster, a 150-mile round trip from downtown Los Angeles. I checked out a car and had stopped at a light just a few blocks from work when a lady in a van waved at me. Not in a "Hi, how are you?" wave, but an "I need to talk to you" wave.

Whenever I'm in a City car, with City seal on the door, I always feel compelled to help people if they wave me down, so I wound down my window and the lady informs me that my trunk is open. I wonder how she can have seen that from where she is but I look down, and sure enough, the ol' barn door is wide open.

I'm kidding :D

I thank the lady, the light turns green and I pull over to the side of the road, and sure enough, the ol' trunk is open a little bit. Now it may not have been a problem on my drive, but who knows. At some point during the next 150 miles the trunk could have popped all the way open and then where would I have been? Halfway between LA & BFE, in the rain, with an open trunk, that's where.

So today at the Post Office a chinese lady approaches me in the parking lot and says "massage-ee?"

Wait, that wasn't this morning, that was in our hotel in Shanghai a few years ago.

Nah, this morning the lady is looking for a certain street, and I happen to have a Thomas Guide (map book to L.A. County) in the car, so I find her street (a few blocks away) and help her on her merry way.

Life is made better by random acts of kindness.

You know you're a parent...

when you change a dirty diaper and as you're throwing it in the trash you see the left over chocolate mudpie cake on the bench...and you promptly eat it...and the odor of dirty diaper wafting up from the trash doesn't faze you at all as you scoop up the last bit of chocolate mousse.

That, my friends, is hardcore.

Forgotten Friday Five

1) Of the various cultures, ethnicities or nationalities you belong to, which most strongly do you consider yourself?
Most likely Australian, although the longer I live here, the more "American" I'm becoming. On vacation in China I even caught myself being the Arrogant American at a Starbucks (yes, they have Starbucks in China) when they didn't make my Frapuccino the right way.

2) Is there a culture you cannot claim heritage from but which you feel quite close to?
That would be Chinese.

3) What’s one language you wish you knew fluently?
I'd like to know Shanghainese so I know what the in-laws all talk about, although I'm getting pretty good at reading their body language and knowing where the conversation is going. Living in Southern California, I'm probably better off being fluent in Espanol.

4) If you could move anywhere in the world and be guaranteed a job, etc., where would you go?
I assume we're talking about a well paying job where I never need to worry about financial problems, because I could go anywhere and get a job...just it may not pay the bills ;) It's got to be Sydney, Australia then.

5a) If you had a time machine, and could witness any one event without altering or disturbing it, what would you want to see?
The building of the pyramids.

5b) What’s the one place where you wouldn’t want to go, even if the opportunity presented itself?
I don't think I'd want to go to the Middle East.

The Guerrero family

JE wanted to play Wrestling on the N64 this morning, so we broke out the classic WCW/NWO Revenge and played Handicap matches; him & me vs a PC opponent. For one match JE chose Chavo Guerrero Jr. as our opponent, and the character came out wearing a t-shirt his real life counterpart had been forced to wear after losing a fued with his wrestling uncle, Eddie Guerreo.

The t-shirt Eddie made Chavo wear stated "Eddie Guerrero is my favorite wrestler". This was a sore point for Chavo, not the least because Chavo's father, Chavo Guerrero Sr., was also a national wrestling icon with the Lucha Libre.

I'd forgotten all about the t-shirt, and how big of a deal it was at the time, and how much it upset Chavo to have to wear it. I'm sure the t-shirt holds a special place in Chavo's heart now though, what with his Uncle Eddie passing away last year.

Oct. 9, 1967 - Nov. 13, 2005

Saddest toy/commercial in the world

I just watched the commercial for a toy called the Batmobile Exp or something like that. An Action Figure Batman has been captured by the Joker (another Action Figure) and is suspended upside down over a tin of "something", when the Batmobile crashes in to save the day by firing a small yellow Bat Disc at the tin of "something". The disc hits the tin and you see a hand (a real hand) push the tin over. The Joker then flees to the top of a pyramid of tins, so the Batmobile fires another Bat Disc at the pyramid of tins...and another (real) hand comes in and pushes the pyramid over.

At least the commercial is being truthful, I guess.

This is Teh Sexxorz

Or however that's supposed to be spelled (spelt).

This is the sexiest woman in the world. Oh, you're free to disagree with me of course, but you'd be wrong, because Jennifer Connelly is, without a doubt, the sexiest woman in the world...except for my wife of course (phew, good save!).

Black & White

This is bizarre.

Mouse over each of the people on that page. It's pretty freaky.

I like this

HA HA HA HA HA!!!!

Well, I thought it was funny :)