I was leaving a comment on Mike's Blog but it began to turn into a Blog entry, so I figured I'd better post it here rather than leave an essay length comment on his Blog. Besides which, I'd already commented on that particular post of his once already ;)
We just had dinner at a restaurant where they listed on the Menu that parties of 8 or more would be charged a 15% gratuity. So 15% would seem to be the industry average, and I'm ok with that. I'm also ok with just a 15% gratuity being added to the bill. I frequently tip at 15% for average service, but I'll also tip better or worse depending on the quality of service. What I would not be ok with would be dining somewhere with a party of 8 (or more) and receiving sub-standard service and being expected to cough up a 15% tip (or more).
You might be pleased to know that you can, in fact, dispute that compulsory tip if you don't believe the service you received warranted a tip of such magnitude. The law allows the compulsory tip to be legally added to the bill IF it's listed either on the menu, or clearly displayed in the restaurant in a location where it is assumed the "common man" could not fail to notice it. But you can still dispute it. In fact if the restaurant correctly identifies the tip for "parties of 8 or more" as a "gratuity" and not as a "surcharge" and the authorities are called in and you find yourself in court because you refused to pay 15% (or more) for crappy service, there's a bloody good chance you'll win your case. A "gratuity" is provided at the customer's discretion, a "surcharge" is mandatory; see the difference?
If I have a drink that comes with free refills, I expect my glass to never be empty for more than a few minutes. If it does, or I have to stop my waiter and tell him I want a refill, that's poor service. If you make me stop you for a refill consider yourself lucky if you still get 15%. At Denny's or any other breakfast diner I expect my coffee mug to never be empty. Of course I take care of that myself by adding creamer and sugar when I need a refill but that's just so I don't have to tell the waitress to leave room for creamer & sugar, plus when they top me up it automatically mixes the fresh coffee with the creamer & sugar so I don't need to stir my cup, which drives Liz nuts because I like to ring the bell when I stir my coffee.
At a steakhouse that Liz and I dined at with a friend, we'd been working in the yard all day (laying pavers) and had developed quite a thirst. I forget how many Arnold Palmer's we put away during our meal but we're talking at least 5 pints, each. Our waitress was right on the ball and we'd barely drain one glass when she'd whisk it away and return with a fresh one. Excellent service. She got at least a 20% tip if I recall correctly.
I once ate breakfast with about 10 coworkers at The Pantry in downtown Los Angeles We got itemized bills. We also got an 18% to 20% gratuity automatically added to the bill because of our party size. Our waiter never brought out my toast until I reminded him. He needed reminding. He brought everyone toast but me, and showed no sign of bringing my toast either. The Pantry does excellent sourdough toast and it is delicious with orange marmalade and coffee.
Remember what I said earlier about the bottomless coffee cup?
My coffee cup, and everyone else's at the table, sat empty after we finished our first cup. Our waiter never offered any of us refills. Finally someone asked him if we could get a refill. Our separate bills arrived with an 18% tip added on. Half the table got up and paid then hung around outside waiting for the rest of us. Just as we were getting up to pay our bills the waiter arrived, with a pot of coffee, and asked if anyone wanted a refill. Asshole. While paying my bill I tried to tell the cashier I was not happy with the service and did not feel it warranted the 18% gratuity, but she relied on that age old excuse of shrugging her shoulders and staring at me blankly while saying "No comprende, senor."
So, if it's listed as a "gratuity" and you honestly do not feel the service you received warranted the percentage that was automatically added to your bill, you can dispute it. Cross it out and write in what you think is a more appropriate amount and re-tally the bill. Also make sure they didn't tax you on the gratuity, because if they did you will want to work out the tax based on your bill sans the gratuity.
I wish I'd been armed with the knowledge I now possess when I ate at The Pantry and received such crappy service. I'd have crossed off the gratuity amount, retallied the bill and left $1 tip, which is still more than that crappy waiter deserved. What is insane is one of my coworkers who ate with us is a lawyer, and she was unaware of the law regarding gratuities and surcharges, and she didn't offer me any advice...then again, with her being a lawyer, I should probably be glad she didn't. I might have saved a couple of dollars on the gratuity, but spent $20 for the legal advice :P
Thursday, May 10, 2007
A quick poll
Hands up those people whose spouse called them at work today because their youngest child had wedged him or herself down the back of a dining room chair? Keep your hand up if you called the Paramedics, from work, because you were the one with the local PD dispatch speed dialed into your cell phone. You get Bonus Points if the Paramedics were forced to cut the cushion off said dining room chair in order to free your youngest child.
*EDIT* added photo
The little lady managed to slide halfway through the gap between the cushion and the lowest rung, and Liz was unable to get her out one way or the other. If you examine the top of the lowest rung on the destroyed chair you'll see two whitish spots on each end. My resourceful wife apparently took to the rung with a saw, but the cherub kept wriggling around and Liz was afraid she'd cut her, so she stopped sawing.
What was I just saying yesterday?
Never underestimate the children :D
*EDIT* added photo
The little lady managed to slide halfway through the gap between the cushion and the lowest rung, and Liz was unable to get her out one way or the other. If you examine the top of the lowest rung on the destroyed chair you'll see two whitish spots on each end. My resourceful wife apparently took to the rung with a saw, but the cherub kept wriggling around and Liz was afraid she'd cut her, so she stopped sawing.
What was I just saying yesterday?
Never underestimate the children :D
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
Never underestimate the children
The in-laws always did this, and were always amazed when our kids did things that they didn't think they were capable of. Then again, they were also constantly amazed when the kids did minor, trivial things, like the time JE as a toddler found a fridge magnet in the family room and he went and stuck it back on the fridge.
Now it's my turn to be amazed, this time at the different skill levels being displayed by the kids in JE's T-Ball league. Some of the kids can throw the ball ok, some can catch it, some can hit, some have trouble with all three tasks, and some kids excel at all three. Some of the kids have trouble hitting the ball off the Tee and take a few swings before making contact, and some of the kids can hit a free thrown pitch and nail it, first time, every time.
Initially when the T-Ball season started the kids would hit the ball off the Tee and run one base. Then the next kid hits the ball and makes another one-base hit; regardless of whether he gets caught out or launches the ball into the outfield, it's a one-base hit. The only exception is the last batter (each kid gets one hit per innings) who always makes a Grand Slam 4-run homer, regardless of how well he hits the ball.
In the last few games we started pitching to the kids. The first time around they hit the ball off the Tee but in the second innings they were first thrown a few pitches (or maybe just the one ;), and most of the kids did ok. If they missed too many times the Tee was brought up and they hit the ball off the Tee, which again might take a couple of swings.
In the last game none of the kids hit off the Tee unless they couldn't hit one of several pitches. They were pitched to in every Innings but we were pretty generous with the pitches. A couple of kids still had to hit off the Tee, just like a couple of kids never needed the Tee and in fact nailed the first pitch thrown to them. Coach Jessie even had to dive out of the way to avoid getting hit by the ball when these kids were at bat.
One of the boys in particular has a wicked swing, and the coaches of the other teams commented that he was the only kid they'd seen hit the ball clear into the outfield. Other balls made it into the outfield but they were either grounders or bounced once or twice in the in-field. This young fellow (it wasn't JE) would clear the diamond by a good amount and send the other team's fielders scrambling after the ball. He lucked out and was the Last Batter in the first two Innings, which meant he got to make Grand Slam Homers, and he made them legitimately. Both times he drove the ball into the outfield then raced around the bases, making it home before the fielding team could get the ball back in to their catcher to "tag him out".
This six year old boy hits a baseball better than I do. He also catches and throws very well, and he might just be on your television one day, playing Major League Baseball. Never underestimate the children ;)
Now it's my turn to be amazed, this time at the different skill levels being displayed by the kids in JE's T-Ball league. Some of the kids can throw the ball ok, some can catch it, some can hit, some have trouble with all three tasks, and some kids excel at all three. Some of the kids have trouble hitting the ball off the Tee and take a few swings before making contact, and some of the kids can hit a free thrown pitch and nail it, first time, every time.
Initially when the T-Ball season started the kids would hit the ball off the Tee and run one base. Then the next kid hits the ball and makes another one-base hit; regardless of whether he gets caught out or launches the ball into the outfield, it's a one-base hit. The only exception is the last batter (each kid gets one hit per innings) who always makes a Grand Slam 4-run homer, regardless of how well he hits the ball.
In the last few games we started pitching to the kids. The first time around they hit the ball off the Tee but in the second innings they were first thrown a few pitches (or maybe just the one ;), and most of the kids did ok. If they missed too many times the Tee was brought up and they hit the ball off the Tee, which again might take a couple of swings.
In the last game none of the kids hit off the Tee unless they couldn't hit one of several pitches. They were pitched to in every Innings but we were pretty generous with the pitches. A couple of kids still had to hit off the Tee, just like a couple of kids never needed the Tee and in fact nailed the first pitch thrown to them. Coach Jessie even had to dive out of the way to avoid getting hit by the ball when these kids were at bat.
One of the boys in particular has a wicked swing, and the coaches of the other teams commented that he was the only kid they'd seen hit the ball clear into the outfield. Other balls made it into the outfield but they were either grounders or bounced once or twice in the in-field. This young fellow (it wasn't JE) would clear the diamond by a good amount and send the other team's fielders scrambling after the ball. He lucked out and was the Last Batter in the first two Innings, which meant he got to make Grand Slam Homers, and he made them legitimately. Both times he drove the ball into the outfield then raced around the bases, making it home before the fielding team could get the ball back in to their catcher to "tag him out".
This six year old boy hits a baseball better than I do. He also catches and throws very well, and he might just be on your television one day, playing Major League Baseball. Never underestimate the children ;)
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
The miracle of technology
Last week I ordered some new valance clips for our blinds because some of the current clips broke. The new clips arrived yesterday but when I opened the envelope I discovered they were the wrong kind. So I took a photo of the correct clip with our digital camera and emailed it off to the company who'd sent the wrong clips so they could see which clips we needed. Just to be on the safe side, knowing some IT dept's block certain attachments on emails, like pictures, I uploaded the picture to the internet and included the URL in the email.
This morning I had a response from the company that the clip is not one they carry. Now the company which sent me the clip is not the company we ordered the blinds through, but I figured the first company had contracted with the second, so it was the second company, the ones that sent the clips, that I'd emailed.
On the first company's website I noticed a button that said Live Chat. Going with my gut instinct, which told me it was not a button to chat live with sexy singles in my area, I clicked the button and a window popped up that said it was contacting a Customer Service Rep, and shortly a message popped up that said I was chatting with Patricia.
I'd already entered my order number so Patricia said she'd locate the clips I needed and would send some right out.
I told Patricia I'd called last week, had been told the same thing, was in possession of replacement clips, but they were the wrong ones.
Then I pasted the url for the picture of the right clip.
Rather than trying to describe what the clip looked like, I was able to show Patricia exactly what I needed.
Patricia said she was printing out a copy of the picture and would send it to the factory with my request, so hopefully this time we'll get the correct clips.
Through the power of technology, I was able to chat to a CSR and not only let her know exactly what item I needed, but show her, too. Awesome!
This morning I had a response from the company that the clip is not one they carry. Now the company which sent me the clip is not the company we ordered the blinds through, but I figured the first company had contracted with the second, so it was the second company, the ones that sent the clips, that I'd emailed.
On the first company's website I noticed a button that said Live Chat. Going with my gut instinct, which told me it was not a button to chat live with sexy singles in my area, I clicked the button and a window popped up that said it was contacting a Customer Service Rep, and shortly a message popped up that said I was chatting with Patricia.
I'd already entered my order number so Patricia said she'd locate the clips I needed and would send some right out.
I told Patricia I'd called last week, had been told the same thing, was in possession of replacement clips, but they were the wrong ones.
Then I pasted the url for the picture of the right clip.
Rather than trying to describe what the clip looked like, I was able to show Patricia exactly what I needed.
Patricia said she was printing out a copy of the picture and would send it to the factory with my request, so hopefully this time we'll get the correct clips.
Through the power of technology, I was able to chat to a CSR and not only let her know exactly what item I needed, but show her, too. Awesome!
Sunday, May 06, 2007
Real, or a con job?
What's your opinion? And is anyone fluent enough in Japanese (I think it's Japanese) to know what the commentator is saying? I figure he's just pointing out the obvious, which is very obvious when we see the replay & close-up in the second part of the clip.
New coffee machine
A few years ago when I worked for Jobtrak they had a Keurig coffee machine. I loved this thing. It made you a cup of freshly brewed coffee in seconds. No mess, no fuss, no hassles. When I got a job with The City I missed the Keurig machine so much that I talked the guy running our office coffee club into getting one.
I attended the LA City Vendor Fair a few weeks ago and the Office Depot booth were promoting a Small Office Keurig machine, which is really a home machine. I hooked up with the Rep and before you know it I'd arranged to get our coffee from Office Depot for considerably cheaper than our previous supplier, and we scored one of the Small Office machines for just $1. Bargain! Now the machines are great for small offices, like no more than 10 people. We have approx. 100 people in our office. These machines are totally inappropriate for our level of usage...but they're great for home ;)
When you turn it on in the morning it takes no more than a minute or so to heat the water for a cup of coffee, and is ready to brew a second cup within 10 second of making the first.
Life is great ;)
I attended the LA City Vendor Fair a few weeks ago and the Office Depot booth were promoting a Small Office Keurig machine, which is really a home machine. I hooked up with the Rep and before you know it I'd arranged to get our coffee from Office Depot for considerably cheaper than our previous supplier, and we scored one of the Small Office machines for just $1. Bargain! Now the machines are great for small offices, like no more than 10 people. We have approx. 100 people in our office. These machines are totally inappropriate for our level of usage...but they're great for home ;)
When you turn it on in the morning it takes no more than a minute or so to heat the water for a cup of coffee, and is ready to brew a second cup within 10 second of making the first.
Life is great ;)
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Authentic Aussie Fish & Chips
In a large mixing bowl combine 1 1/2 cups of self-raising flour and 1 egg. Gradually whisk in 375ml (1 can, or 1 1/2 cups) of a "light beer" until batter is smooth. See, you can't drink the stuff, but you knew there was a reason they made light beer.
Season batter with a dash of salt and pepper, then cover and place in the fridge for 30 minutes.
Heat vegetable oil in a deep fryer (or deep saucepan), then dip two filets of fish (such as flathead or whiting, or my personal favorite, school shark) into the batter to coat and allow the excess to run off.
Deep fry those suckers until they're golden brown and little crispy bubbles have appeared over the batter and you're drooling so stop it because it makes the oil splatter. At least drool down your shirt or something! Good Lord, man! Other people will want some of this and you're drooling all over it!
Remove crispy, golden brown, slightly drooled on filets of fish (shark is a fish so that's an all inclusive phrase...unless you used filets of dolphin. Sicko!) and set aside on paper towel. For authentic fish & chips feel free to use a few pages from the local newspaper, but make sure your paper comes from a printer that bakes the newsprint properly or the ink will come off everywhere, and inky fish & chips are not good. Inky squid or calamari is acceptable, but not inky fish.
While oil reheats dip another two filets of fish (or mammal of choice) into the batter; allow the excess to run off then carefully lower the battered filets into the boiling oil. Did I say earlier to do that carefully? If I didn't, I'm saying it now: be careful! Don't accidentally dip your finger into the boiling oil like I did a couple of weeks ago coz that FUCKING HURTS!!! And it doesn't matter how fast you rip your finger out, it's too late. That stuff is hot and it burns!!! Feel free to yell and scream but try to use unintelligible phrases coz the kids are in the house. Avoid screaming FUCK!!! even though you've just dipped your finger in boiling oil. You don't want to upset the neighbors sitting in the next room waiting for a meal of authentic home cooked Aussie Fish & Chips.
Run finger under the cold tap for a couple of minutes while keeping an eye on frying filets. Remove when golden brown, set aside to drain, then batter one filet at a time while placing boiled finger back under the cold tap. Extremely carefully lower filets into boiling oil, cook to golden brown, remove, set aside, repeat, etc.
Toss in some chips (with the skins still on, for added flavor), fry to golden brown, remove, drain & lightly salt. Place on plates, then serve and enjoy with a frosty cold beverage held in the hand with the boiled finger because Damn! If that icy cold can doesn't feel good against your burned digit, I don't know what does.
Toast the neighbors and ignore the strange looks they're giving you when they think you're not watching. Tell them the yelling was part of a secret Aussie ritual, like when the New Zealand All Blacks do the Haka before a Rugby game. They'll still think you're a weird Australian, but you're a weird Australian who makes bloody good Fish & Chips.
Good on ya, mate! You're a bloody ripper!
Season batter with a dash of salt and pepper, then cover and place in the fridge for 30 minutes.
Heat vegetable oil in a deep fryer (or deep saucepan), then dip two filets of fish (such as flathead or whiting, or my personal favorite, school shark) into the batter to coat and allow the excess to run off.
Deep fry those suckers until they're golden brown and little crispy bubbles have appeared over the batter and you're drooling so stop it because it makes the oil splatter. At least drool down your shirt or something! Good Lord, man! Other people will want some of this and you're drooling all over it!
Remove crispy, golden brown, slightly drooled on filets of fish (shark is a fish so that's an all inclusive phrase...unless you used filets of dolphin. Sicko!) and set aside on paper towel. For authentic fish & chips feel free to use a few pages from the local newspaper, but make sure your paper comes from a printer that bakes the newsprint properly or the ink will come off everywhere, and inky fish & chips are not good. Inky squid or calamari is acceptable, but not inky fish.
While oil reheats dip another two filets of fish (or mammal of choice) into the batter; allow the excess to run off then carefully lower the battered filets into the boiling oil. Did I say earlier to do that carefully? If I didn't, I'm saying it now: be careful! Don't accidentally dip your finger into the boiling oil like I did a couple of weeks ago coz that FUCKING HURTS!!! And it doesn't matter how fast you rip your finger out, it's too late. That stuff is hot and it burns!!! Feel free to yell and scream but try to use unintelligible phrases coz the kids are in the house. Avoid screaming FUCK!!! even though you've just dipped your finger in boiling oil. You don't want to upset the neighbors sitting in the next room waiting for a meal of authentic home cooked Aussie Fish & Chips.
Run finger under the cold tap for a couple of minutes while keeping an eye on frying filets. Remove when golden brown, set aside to drain, then batter one filet at a time while placing boiled finger back under the cold tap. Extremely carefully lower filets into boiling oil, cook to golden brown, remove, set aside, repeat, etc.
Toss in some chips (with the skins still on, for added flavor), fry to golden brown, remove, drain & lightly salt. Place on plates, then serve and enjoy with a frosty cold beverage held in the hand with the boiled finger because Damn! If that icy cold can doesn't feel good against your burned digit, I don't know what does.
Toast the neighbors and ignore the strange looks they're giving you when they think you're not watching. Tell them the yelling was part of a secret Aussie ritual, like when the New Zealand All Blacks do the Haka before a Rugby game. They'll still think you're a weird Australian, but you're a weird Australian who makes bloody good Fish & Chips.
Good on ya, mate! You're a bloody ripper!
Monday, April 30, 2007
Their game, their rules
Last night in the World of Warcraft I was having a bit of fun with my Gnome Warrior, specifically I was being escorted through a mid-level Dungeon by a high-level friend in order to obtain some of the magical Plate armor that drops off the bosses in that dungeon. And we got some, too, with the final Boss dropping a neat Plate Helm.
Then a Games Master sent me a tell. A private, in-game message, like using Messenger or Yahoo Chat. The Games Master is an envoy of Blizzard, a real person in the game who adjudicates issues where necessary. I hadn't lodged a complaint with the GMs, which left one explanation why they'd contacted me, and sure enough, the GM informed me that my Warrior's name had been deemed inappropriate. He was letting me know this because he said he was about to log me out of the game, and when I logged back in I'd be asked to choose a new name for my Warrior.
Now fortunately I was talking to my friend using a VOIP and a headset because I was so shocked by what the GM had told me that I could barely respond to him, let alone type messages to my friend to keep him appraised of the situation. Now I reckon the GM must have been tagging along with us, invisible & invincible, and he was lenient enough to let us down the final Boss and get the Loot before contacting me. The GMs do have powers that make them virtual Neos within the WoW world, and this one's timing was too impeccable to have been mere coincidence.
Within seconds of receiving his message I was kicked out of the game. I promptly tried to log back in and was met with a screen I'd never seen before.
WoW! Pun intended. He wasn't kidding. For some reason someone found the name Knuttjob objectionable, and complained about it, and I've been forced to change it. Now I have a choice, I don't have to change it, but if I don't then I cannot log in on my Warrior. In case you're a puritan and you're getting the wrong idea, a nutjob is a crazy person, a nutter, someone who is, essentially, nuts. When I role play Knuttjob he is one crazy little Gnome who refuses to back down from a fight no matter how outmatched he might be. He's nuts, plain and simple. With me being an officer in my Guild, the Knocturnal Knights, it made perfect sense to gname my gnome...er...name my nome...no, that's not right either, it made perfect sense to call him Knuttjob.
I haven't renamed the little fella yet. I filed a protest with Blizzard but I doubt it will change anything, after all, it's their game, we have to play by their rules. Sucks, though. I like little Knuttjob.
Then a Games Master sent me a tell. A private, in-game message, like using Messenger or Yahoo Chat. The Games Master is an envoy of Blizzard, a real person in the game who adjudicates issues where necessary. I hadn't lodged a complaint with the GMs, which left one explanation why they'd contacted me, and sure enough, the GM informed me that my Warrior's name had been deemed inappropriate. He was letting me know this because he said he was about to log me out of the game, and when I logged back in I'd be asked to choose a new name for my Warrior.
Now fortunately I was talking to my friend using a VOIP and a headset because I was so shocked by what the GM had told me that I could barely respond to him, let alone type messages to my friend to keep him appraised of the situation. Now I reckon the GM must have been tagging along with us, invisible & invincible, and he was lenient enough to let us down the final Boss and get the Loot before contacting me. The GMs do have powers that make them virtual Neos within the WoW world, and this one's timing was too impeccable to have been mere coincidence.
Within seconds of receiving his message I was kicked out of the game. I promptly tried to log back in and was met with a screen I'd never seen before.
WoW! Pun intended. He wasn't kidding. For some reason someone found the name Knuttjob objectionable, and complained about it, and I've been forced to change it. Now I have a choice, I don't have to change it, but if I don't then I cannot log in on my Warrior. In case you're a puritan and you're getting the wrong idea, a nutjob is a crazy person, a nutter, someone who is, essentially, nuts. When I role play Knuttjob he is one crazy little Gnome who refuses to back down from a fight no matter how outmatched he might be. He's nuts, plain and simple. With me being an officer in my Guild, the Knocturnal Knights, it made perfect sense to gname my gnome...er...name my nome...no, that's not right either, it made perfect sense to call him Knuttjob.
I haven't renamed the little fella yet. I filed a protest with Blizzard but I doubt it will change anything, after all, it's their game, we have to play by their rules. Sucks, though. I like little Knuttjob.
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Public Service Announcement
Sunchips® are a yummy, healthier alternative to potato chips (or crisps) and now, for a limited time only, the makers of Sunchips® will donate 25¢ to Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation every time someone buys the pinkish bag of Sunchips® and "registers" the special code at Sunchips®.com
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
The Quizno's Affair
Heh. Sounds a bit like a Robert Ludlum novel ;)
I had lunch at Quizno's today, which normally I'd enjoy, and I did enjoy the sandwich but that's not what today's entry is about.
Quizno's, if you're not already familiar with it, is a toasted sandwich chain. At the start of the production line your sandwich is loaded with the meat of your choice, on the bread roll of your choice (white, wheat, etc), with the cheese of your choice, then passed through a toaster oven. When it comes out the other end you then get to add your choice of toppings, lettuce, onion, pickles, olives, peppers, etc, well, normally you do.
Today my sandwich emerged and I figured it was my sandwich because I was pretty much next in line, but the lady removing the sandwiches from the oven just tossed in some chopped lettuce, like she'd done with all the sandwiches before, then handed it to the guy next to her, who wrapped it and passed it on to the cashier, who called Next!
I ignored the cashier and stood there in front of the woman.
Next! called the cashier.
Again I ignored him.
Small Parmesan Turkey on Wheat? said the cashier, which was my sandwich.
Oh, I said to him, in staged confusion. Is that my sandwich? You guys don't add extra stuff any more?
The cashier looked at me, now his turn to be surprised, for real.
I wanted pickles and olives, I explained, but the girl never asked me.
The cashier took my sandwich back to the guy who'd wrapped it, who asked what else I wanted. I repeated that I wanted pickles and olives, and again said the girl never asked me.
Yeah, I was being a bit of a bastard, but I could have been a right bastard. Remember I said the girl had tossed in chopped lettuce, like every other sandwich before mine? If I'd been a right bastard I would have said I hadn't wanted lettuce. Then kicked up a fuss if the guy had tried to scrape off the existing lettuce instead of making me a fresh sandwich, from scratch. Now I don't mind a bit of bunny food, but it was added without my being asked. What if I hadn't wanted lettuce? Like the absentee pickles and olives, I hadn't been given a choice.
First day on the job or not. Busy lunchtime crowd or not. I don't care. Make sure the customer is getting what they want. Don't assume, or the customer might just be an asshole.
I had lunch at Quizno's today, which normally I'd enjoy, and I did enjoy the sandwich but that's not what today's entry is about.
Quizno's, if you're not already familiar with it, is a toasted sandwich chain. At the start of the production line your sandwich is loaded with the meat of your choice, on the bread roll of your choice (white, wheat, etc), with the cheese of your choice, then passed through a toaster oven. When it comes out the other end you then get to add your choice of toppings, lettuce, onion, pickles, olives, peppers, etc, well, normally you do.
Today my sandwich emerged and I figured it was my sandwich because I was pretty much next in line, but the lady removing the sandwiches from the oven just tossed in some chopped lettuce, like she'd done with all the sandwiches before, then handed it to the guy next to her, who wrapped it and passed it on to the cashier, who called Next!
I ignored the cashier and stood there in front of the woman.
Next! called the cashier.
Again I ignored him.
Small Parmesan Turkey on Wheat? said the cashier, which was my sandwich.
Oh, I said to him, in staged confusion. Is that my sandwich? You guys don't add extra stuff any more?
The cashier looked at me, now his turn to be surprised, for real.
I wanted pickles and olives, I explained, but the girl never asked me.
The cashier took my sandwich back to the guy who'd wrapped it, who asked what else I wanted. I repeated that I wanted pickles and olives, and again said the girl never asked me.
Yeah, I was being a bit of a bastard, but I could have been a right bastard. Remember I said the girl had tossed in chopped lettuce, like every other sandwich before mine? If I'd been a right bastard I would have said I hadn't wanted lettuce. Then kicked up a fuss if the guy had tried to scrape off the existing lettuce instead of making me a fresh sandwich, from scratch. Now I don't mind a bit of bunny food, but it was added without my being asked. What if I hadn't wanted lettuce? Like the absentee pickles and olives, I hadn't been given a choice.
First day on the job or not. Busy lunchtime crowd or not. I don't care. Make sure the customer is getting what they want. Don't assume, or the customer might just be an asshole.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Learning from VA Tech
I've refrained from commenting on this, mainly because my comments are not that which would "go with the flow", but I've decided I'm going to speak up anyway.
I'm very pro-gun. I see these shootings not as excuses or wake-up calls that we need to tighten gun laws or remove guns from society, but as wake-up calls that we need to be more aware of our fellow man (& woman), we need to become familiar with the signs that someone might be building up to become a "shooter", and we need to be willing to step in and get involved (by alerting the appropriate authorities) if we do suspect a shooting is a distinct possibility in the near future.
In 1996 Martin Bryant allegedly shot and killed 35 people in Port Arthur, Tasmania. I was living in Australia at the time, self-employed as a gardener for various clients, including an elderly lady from my church who lived on her family farm just outside town. One of my self-appointed duties was to cull the rabbits that were tearing up her property, so with my client's permission I'd visit her property late in the evening and eliminate a few of the rabbits with my trusty shotgun. After the Port Arthur incident the Aussie government decided shotguns like mine were dangerous (and they were, as many a rabbit found out) so they implemented what they called a Buyback plan to buy back a majority of privately owned firearms. Essentially confiscation with compensation. Despite many, many guns being removed from the public, shootings still occurred. There hasn't been another "Port Arthur" incident since, but that's not surprising considering that in Australia's 200 year history that was the only one of its kind. What has happened though it that a college student legally gained access to a handgun (an extremely highly regulated firearm in Australia) and shot several of his fellow students, while another fellow got hold of a sword, again a highly regulated item in Australia, and ran amok stabbing people.
Easy access to guns does not facilitate these kind of activities. Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold had several plans for obtaining firearms, and were apparently willing to obtain them through illegal channels if necessary. George Weller didn't even need a firearm to kill 9 people in Santa Monica in 2006.
Then there's Joel Myrick, who was the assistant principal of Pearl Middle School in Mississippi in 1997, when Luke Woodham shot and killed two girls, one of who was his girlfriend. Luke then shot and wounded 7 other students before starting to cross the road to the Junior High School where he claimed he intended to shoot more students. That was when Myrick finally returned after running 1/4 mile to his car and back to get his legally owned and stored handgun. Myrick prevented any further deaths by holding Luke at gunpoint until the police arrived.
The anti-gun people like to say a law is worthy if it saves just one life. Using their logic, the law that allowed Myrick to legally own and store a handgun in his car is also worthy. Lives were saved that day because a private citizen was armed. That's enough proof right there that guns save lives. I only need to reference one case because it's all that's needed.
The truth is if someone is determined to get a gun, they will. If someone is determined to kill someone, unless they're stupid, it's almost impossible to prevent them from doing so.
I'm very pro-gun. I see these shootings not as excuses or wake-up calls that we need to tighten gun laws or remove guns from society, but as wake-up calls that we need to be more aware of our fellow man (& woman), we need to become familiar with the signs that someone might be building up to become a "shooter", and we need to be willing to step in and get involved (by alerting the appropriate authorities) if we do suspect a shooting is a distinct possibility in the near future.
In 1996 Martin Bryant allegedly shot and killed 35 people in Port Arthur, Tasmania. I was living in Australia at the time, self-employed as a gardener for various clients, including an elderly lady from my church who lived on her family farm just outside town. One of my self-appointed duties was to cull the rabbits that were tearing up her property, so with my client's permission I'd visit her property late in the evening and eliminate a few of the rabbits with my trusty shotgun. After the Port Arthur incident the Aussie government decided shotguns like mine were dangerous (and they were, as many a rabbit found out) so they implemented what they called a Buyback plan to buy back a majority of privately owned firearms. Essentially confiscation with compensation. Despite many, many guns being removed from the public, shootings still occurred. There hasn't been another "Port Arthur" incident since, but that's not surprising considering that in Australia's 200 year history that was the only one of its kind. What has happened though it that a college student legally gained access to a handgun (an extremely highly regulated firearm in Australia) and shot several of his fellow students, while another fellow got hold of a sword, again a highly regulated item in Australia, and ran amok stabbing people.
Easy access to guns does not facilitate these kind of activities. Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold had several plans for obtaining firearms, and were apparently willing to obtain them through illegal channels if necessary. George Weller didn't even need a firearm to kill 9 people in Santa Monica in 2006.
Then there's Joel Myrick, who was the assistant principal of Pearl Middle School in Mississippi in 1997, when Luke Woodham shot and killed two girls, one of who was his girlfriend. Luke then shot and wounded 7 other students before starting to cross the road to the Junior High School where he claimed he intended to shoot more students. That was when Myrick finally returned after running 1/4 mile to his car and back to get his legally owned and stored handgun. Myrick prevented any further deaths by holding Luke at gunpoint until the police arrived.
The anti-gun people like to say a law is worthy if it saves just one life. Using their logic, the law that allowed Myrick to legally own and store a handgun in his car is also worthy. Lives were saved that day because a private citizen was armed. That's enough proof right there that guns save lives. I only need to reference one case because it's all that's needed.
The truth is if someone is determined to get a gun, they will. If someone is determined to kill someone, unless they're stupid, it's almost impossible to prevent them from doing so.
Friday, April 20, 2007
I'm getting better, but life still has its moments
Not too long ago I wrote a post about coping with the loss of my father, and how I felt I was at a turning point in the grieving process, and I was right, I was, but life still has a way of creeping up on you and while I'm learning to deal with the loss of my father, that doesn't mean I'll ever be over his passing.
Today I was in Bestbuy getting a new car stereo installed, which took 2 hours so I had plenty of time to kill. I was browsing the DVD section when I saw a tin of John Wayne movies, 15 of them, for $15. My Dad loved John Wayne movies, so this is totally something I would have bought and sent home for him. Life is...was...still is full of those moments, where I'll see an item that I know my Dad would appreciate, but life has changed because now there's no point buying those little gifts. But that doesn't mean I don't see them and still think how much Dad would have liked it.
So in the car on the way home I was listening to my new, favorite Country station, which I thank Xinh for finding for me, and a line from one of the songs that was playing as I pulled into the drive of our house went "I took a swing at my father one Christmas, never dreaming it would be his last."
Well I never, ever took a swing at my father, because there's a damn good chance if I'd ever done that it would have been my last Christmas, but when Mum & Dad's Christmas card arrived a couple of years ago and I opened it and looked at their signature I started crying, because a tiny little voice inside of me said that it would be the last time I got a Christmas Card from Mum and Dad, and it was right; that was my Dad's last Christmas on this earth.
If you only take home one thing from this Blog, let it be this: When you see a little "something" that you know would make a perfect gift for a loved one, buy it for them, and give it to them straight away. Fill your life with happy moments that you can fall back on when the sad moments threaten to overwhelm you.
Today I was in Bestbuy getting a new car stereo installed, which took 2 hours so I had plenty of time to kill. I was browsing the DVD section when I saw a tin of John Wayne movies, 15 of them, for $15. My Dad loved John Wayne movies, so this is totally something I would have bought and sent home for him. Life is...was...still is full of those moments, where I'll see an item that I know my Dad would appreciate, but life has changed because now there's no point buying those little gifts. But that doesn't mean I don't see them and still think how much Dad would have liked it.
So in the car on the way home I was listening to my new, favorite Country station, which I thank Xinh for finding for me, and a line from one of the songs that was playing as I pulled into the drive of our house went "I took a swing at my father one Christmas, never dreaming it would be his last."
Well I never, ever took a swing at my father, because there's a damn good chance if I'd ever done that it would have been my last Christmas, but when Mum & Dad's Christmas card arrived a couple of years ago and I opened it and looked at their signature I started crying, because a tiny little voice inside of me said that it would be the last time I got a Christmas Card from Mum and Dad, and it was right; that was my Dad's last Christmas on this earth.
If you only take home one thing from this Blog, let it be this: When you see a little "something" that you know would make a perfect gift for a loved one, buy it for them, and give it to them straight away. Fill your life with happy moments that you can fall back on when the sad moments threaten to overwhelm you.
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
My 2¢ on Lord of the Rings Online
LOTRO is another MMOG in the vein of Everquest and WoW, and last night I got access to the beta version. The real game will be released in a week or two if everything goes to plan, but for now you can get a taste of things-to-come.
I rolled a Hobbit Minstrel and spent a few minutes messing with his facial features. I gave him blue eyes, sandy blonde hair, and a smattering of freckles across his nose and upper cheeks. I was going to go with a scar on his chin but I figured everyone would go with a scar (you have a choice of several) and it's hardly noticeable anyway. The character creation screen seems more versatile and open than WoW, but essentially it all boils down to very similar things. You've got a choice of Face1, Face2, Face3, etc, eye color depending on which hue you click on in the color box, likewise hair color. Hair style, like faces, is a choice between Style1, Style2, etc.
What might be more interesting for character creation would be the ability to alter the shape of your toon's nose via a slider bar, then their chin, then the size of their mouth, then their cheeks, etc, but that's getting beyond a simple review of LOTRO and into the realm of dream features for MMOGs in general. Overall the character selection screen seems to offer a lot of variety and choices to make your character unique, so you're not just another face in the crowd. It's a pity that all of the changes you're making will be on the side of your toon that faces away from you, and thus you'll hardly ever see the work of art you spent 20 minutes creating.
Out of the gate my first encounter was with a Dark Rider. Actually I saw him riding by but from the LOTRO Lore the sight of the Dark Rider was enough to give me a WTF??? moment.
I'm a brand spanking new lvl 1 Hobbit and you're throwing Dark Riders at me???
With only one way to go I followed the path taken by the Dark Rider and as I walked along Pow! I took damage from...something. I didn't get attacked by anything, it was like I stepped on a trap and just took damage. Further on in the game the same thing happened, while walking along a path I took random damage for some inexplicable reason. Perhaps if I'd found the combat log it might have told me what happened, but meh, I just kept walking. Around the bend and down the road I spotted the Dark Rider yet again and knowing how bad arse they are I stayed well back and looked for a way around him, but the hills alongside the path were too steep to climb and the brush was too thick so I bit the bullet and slowly moved forward.
The Dark Rider was interrogating another Hobbit and I overheard the last of their conversation and basically the game is set around the time of the scouring of the Shire. You can't play Frodo or Aragorn or anything like that, but I'm sure people will still try to play them, although they may play a part in the future of the game. After the Dark Rider rode off I met up with the Hobbit. He told me we needed to escape and that he'd unlock a nearby door while I kept watch. So I kept watch while the Hobbit tried key after key in the door.
It wasn't until I spoke to him again that he "found" the right key. After that we moved through a series of doors and mob encounters until we met up again with the Dark Rider, now with three henchmen. One of the henchman ran off to do the Dark Rider's bidding, and then the Dark Rider spotted us. As he rode closer his two henchmen moved up to attack us when arrows from the nearby woods rained down, killing the henchmen and driving away the Dark Rider. Thank God, coz I was still just a level 1 Hobbit Minstrel. After a brief bit of dialog with my rescuers the introductory scene ended and when the next chapter loaded I found myself in a new town filled with activity. Lots of activity. Real people (like me) were running around (or at least toons controlled by real people), talking to NPCs (toons controlled by the computer) and completing various quests, and I promptly joined them.
Coming from WoW the gameplay and controls are very similar so it was very easy to just jump in and start playing, although I did need to remap my Strafe Left & Right keys, and Invert the Mouse's Y-Axis. When I use my Mouse to look around I think like a Pilot. Pushing Forward on my mouse should dip my view down, much as a plane would dive if you pushed the yoke forwards. This means if I jump into a lake and start swimming, I'm literally "flying" in the water. When I push forward on my Mouse my toon will dive, and when I pull back on my mouse my toon will "climb", and this makes perfect sense to me. I actually did a bit of swimming last night and I loved the fact that my Hobbit did the Front Crawl stroke (often mistakenly called Freestyle) while swimming on top of the water. In WoW most toons tend to swim Breaststroke...ok, I'm generalizing. My Dwarf swims Breaststroke while my Elf puts his arms by his side and kicks his legs like he's a dolphin; maybe the Humans swim using the Crawl, I don't know, I hardly play Humans. So the swimming technique in LOTRO was very realistic and looked really good and I was greatly impressed.
Running around the countryside, on the other hand, was terrible. My Hobbit leaned over at the waist and ran moving his arms and legs, and nothing else. His body and head stayed rock solid in a slightly bent over position that did not look natural at all. The characters in GTA:Vice City, WoW, Mario Bros, (almost every game I can think of) they all run in a realistic looking fashion, my Hobbit did not. It was not horribly obvious but it was something I kept noticing, each time I glanced at him, which detracted just a little bit from the game. How are you supposed to empathize with your character and get into the game when your avatar doesn't move around in a realistic manner?
While character movement seemed stilted, actual navigation of the countryside was made a breeze by a very detailed Minimap. It showed things such as vendors and quest givers...although the people I needed to talk to in order to finish my quests seemed strangely absent. They were in the game, they just didn't appear on the minimap, at least not that I could see. The intro area initially seemed overwhelming but once I'd done a couple of the "Kill X of Y Mobs" quests, or "Gather X of Y herbs" I'd become reasonably familiar with the zone and had little trouble finding my way around. Unlike WoWs seamless world, LOTRO's Inns and Stores are instanced, but load times (at least on my PC) were very quick. Open a door, step into the portal and a second or two later you're inside the building. Open the door, step into the portal, and a second or two later you're outside again. Not painful at all.
As I ran around I figured I'd concentrate on quests rather than grinding, and this appears the smart way to level in LOTRO anyway. I'm sure you get more XP/kill for a same level mob in WoW than you do in LOTRO, but then the XP needed to level in LOTRO seems to be less as well, at least for the initial levels. One quest asked me to kill some pigs and bring the meat back to the quest giver. After collecting all the meat I needed I killed one extra pig, but I did not feel compelled to grind out the XP I needed to level, or even just kill piggies for some "bonus" XP. Just completing quests earned me substantial XP and I leveled reasonably quickly anyway. I also loved that LOTRO shows you the vendor prices of your loot. In WoW I need to have a 3rd party program installed to see how much an item will sell for. In LOTRO they tell you, which makes choosing between two Quest Reward Items, neither of which you'll use, very easy to make. Usually I could use one of the items, but I think once or twice I completed a quest with no useful reward, so knowing which item would sell for more more money was a big plus.
At level 5 I earned the privilege of being able to add a title to my name. Because I hadn't died on my journey to level 5 I could choose to display myself as Bilimac the Wary, which I thought was hardly fair. One quest had my lvl 4 Hobbit take on a lvl 5 Pig and here's a definite difference between WoW and LOTRO. In WoW, a lvl 1 Toon taking on a lvl 2 Mob is a foregone conclusion. The Mob is going down. Most Toons in WoW should be able to take on two Mobs their own level, or one Mob a couple of levels higher than them, and know without a doubt they're going to be successful. This lvl 5 Pig had me worried and I was casting spells as fast as I could, only being a Minstrel my "spells" were Ballads that buffed & healed me while damaging my opponent. It didn't help that as a Minstrel I can currently only wear cloth armor which offered little protection against the razor sharp tusks of my foe. Fortunately a couple of people who'd turned up to kill the Pig as well joined in but it was still touch & go and even with their help I finished the fight with about 1/4 of my health remaining. Oddly enough I was actually concerned I would be defeated by the Pig. In WoW I was never worried about dying, and while LOTRO has a very lax Death Penalty, I'm still determined to advance as far in the LOTRO Beta as I can without dying once. I think it's also that I knew the Pig was a tough opponent so I did not relish coming back for a rematch if he defeated me.
So I was reluctant to add the title "...the Wary" to my name because my Minstrel had not been a cautious fellow or shied away from danger. Fortunately I had a second choice, being the addition of a "family" name, and so I became Bilimac of the Fallohides which matches both my appearance and the class I chose. I'm a fair-skinned, blonde, Minstrel, all of which are traits of the Fallohide Hobbits. Apparently if I can make it to lvl 10 without dying I can become Bilimac the Undefeated, but again that probably describes more of a cautious, wary player so unless something better comes along at 10 I shall remain Bilimac of the Fallohides.
A big change from WoW was less of the Kill X of Y Mobs quests. There were a few of them, don't get me wrong, but it never seemed like I was on a treadmill, killing mob after mob after mob. Rather many quests had you running around, exploring the zones and talking to people. You can do those one of two ways. The fast way, "Shut up already and give me my reward!" or the slow way, where you read what they have to say and immerse yourself in the game world. There are also delivery quests that are quite different from what WoW has to offer. Delivering Pies for a baker I cannot get into combat or the pie will naturally get ruined when I'm forced to defend myself, nor can I swim across rivers, Pies do not like water, for some reason. I also have to avoid Hungry Hobbits. Not all Hobbits are hungry...ok, they all are, but there are certain Hobbits labeled as Hungry, and they're the ones to avoid. There are also Mail Run quests, again where you cannot get into combat or swim across rivers, but this time you need to avoid Nosey Hobbits. Get too close to a Nosey Hobbit or a Hungry Hobbit (if you have Pies) and you fail the quest. These quests are also timed so it's not like you can take the long way around but you still need to give these interfering Hobbits a wide berth. Cutting through someone's front yard was not enough, as I found out trying to avoid a Nosey Hobbit on the path, and I failed that particular Mail Run quest. All of these quests serve to introduce you to the game world and make you feel like you're part of something real, and it's a definite change of pace from WoW's typical Kill 10 Rats quests.
As I completed quests I acquired new items, both from the Mobs I slew and from generous citizens grateful for my help, but as the Quest Reward items were generally better than anything I found on defeated foes, I never felt compelled to kill Mobs just to see if I could get some good loot. Of course we're still early in the game. In WoW, especially at higher levels, it's not uncommon to spend literally hours killing the same Mobs in one area over and over and over again for the cloth, money, and items they drop. By the time my Hobbit was level 5 I'd acquired a hat and some shoulder pads (armor) as Quest Rewards. Such items are not available in WoW until lvls 15 or higher. More pieces of armor, hats, etc, serve two purposes. More armor obviously helps to keep you alive longer, but it also helps to give your character a slightly more unique appearance. Of course two Hobbit Minstrels completing the same quests will most likely choose the same Armor, so you might still end up looking very much like every other Minstrel out there, but when I found a green pair of gloves with the same armor as my current gloves, but which sold for less, I promptly equipped the cheaper gloves and sold the more expensive pair. I also picked up a pair of ear rings and a bracelet which I was able to wear and which showed up on my Hobbit, so there are always choices to make that can individualize your toon.
I have 1 more week to play the Beta at which time the game goes live and I'll need to buy a copy of the game if I want to continue playing. Given that I don't know anyone who's going to play LOTRO, and that an MMO is really a social experience and is a lot more fun with friends, and given that there's still so much for me to do in WoW, I currently cannot see myself buying LOTRO, yet. If I had several friends who I knew were going to play I might give up WoW and join them in LOTRO, as two gaming subscriptions is not something I'm prepared to take on just yet. Although chances are if I was going to play LOTRO I'd probably do the $200 Lifetime subscription. Pay once and play forever. I like that option.
Overall I liked what Turbine have done with the game. There was just enough LOTR Lore thrown in to make you feel like you really were in Middle Earth, and once I got out of the lowbie area and entered the Shire, a considerably larger zone with many more Hobbits running around, it really was like the book come to life...which is sort of like being a part of the movie. I think Turbine have a winner with this one.
I rolled a Hobbit Minstrel and spent a few minutes messing with his facial features. I gave him blue eyes, sandy blonde hair, and a smattering of freckles across his nose and upper cheeks. I was going to go with a scar on his chin but I figured everyone would go with a scar (you have a choice of several) and it's hardly noticeable anyway. The character creation screen seems more versatile and open than WoW, but essentially it all boils down to very similar things. You've got a choice of Face1, Face2, Face3, etc, eye color depending on which hue you click on in the color box, likewise hair color. Hair style, like faces, is a choice between Style1, Style2, etc.
What might be more interesting for character creation would be the ability to alter the shape of your toon's nose via a slider bar, then their chin, then the size of their mouth, then their cheeks, etc, but that's getting beyond a simple review of LOTRO and into the realm of dream features for MMOGs in general. Overall the character selection screen seems to offer a lot of variety and choices to make your character unique, so you're not just another face in the crowd. It's a pity that all of the changes you're making will be on the side of your toon that faces away from you, and thus you'll hardly ever see the work of art you spent 20 minutes creating.
Out of the gate my first encounter was with a Dark Rider. Actually I saw him riding by but from the LOTRO Lore the sight of the Dark Rider was enough to give me a WTF??? moment.
I'm a brand spanking new lvl 1 Hobbit and you're throwing Dark Riders at me???
With only one way to go I followed the path taken by the Dark Rider and as I walked along Pow! I took damage from...something. I didn't get attacked by anything, it was like I stepped on a trap and just took damage. Further on in the game the same thing happened, while walking along a path I took random damage for some inexplicable reason. Perhaps if I'd found the combat log it might have told me what happened, but meh, I just kept walking. Around the bend and down the road I spotted the Dark Rider yet again and knowing how bad arse they are I stayed well back and looked for a way around him, but the hills alongside the path were too steep to climb and the brush was too thick so I bit the bullet and slowly moved forward.
The Dark Rider was interrogating another Hobbit and I overheard the last of their conversation and basically the game is set around the time of the scouring of the Shire. You can't play Frodo or Aragorn or anything like that, but I'm sure people will still try to play them, although they may play a part in the future of the game. After the Dark Rider rode off I met up with the Hobbit. He told me we needed to escape and that he'd unlock a nearby door while I kept watch. So I kept watch while the Hobbit tried key after key in the door.
It wasn't until I spoke to him again that he "found" the right key. After that we moved through a series of doors and mob encounters until we met up again with the Dark Rider, now with three henchmen. One of the henchman ran off to do the Dark Rider's bidding, and then the Dark Rider spotted us. As he rode closer his two henchmen moved up to attack us when arrows from the nearby woods rained down, killing the henchmen and driving away the Dark Rider. Thank God, coz I was still just a level 1 Hobbit Minstrel. After a brief bit of dialog with my rescuers the introductory scene ended and when the next chapter loaded I found myself in a new town filled with activity. Lots of activity. Real people (like me) were running around (or at least toons controlled by real people), talking to NPCs (toons controlled by the computer) and completing various quests, and I promptly joined them.
Coming from WoW the gameplay and controls are very similar so it was very easy to just jump in and start playing, although I did need to remap my Strafe Left & Right keys, and Invert the Mouse's Y-Axis. When I use my Mouse to look around I think like a Pilot. Pushing Forward on my mouse should dip my view down, much as a plane would dive if you pushed the yoke forwards. This means if I jump into a lake and start swimming, I'm literally "flying" in the water. When I push forward on my Mouse my toon will dive, and when I pull back on my mouse my toon will "climb", and this makes perfect sense to me. I actually did a bit of swimming last night and I loved the fact that my Hobbit did the Front Crawl stroke (often mistakenly called Freestyle) while swimming on top of the water. In WoW most toons tend to swim Breaststroke...ok, I'm generalizing. My Dwarf swims Breaststroke while my Elf puts his arms by his side and kicks his legs like he's a dolphin; maybe the Humans swim using the Crawl, I don't know, I hardly play Humans. So the swimming technique in LOTRO was very realistic and looked really good and I was greatly impressed.
Running around the countryside, on the other hand, was terrible. My Hobbit leaned over at the waist and ran moving his arms and legs, and nothing else. His body and head stayed rock solid in a slightly bent over position that did not look natural at all. The characters in GTA:Vice City, WoW, Mario Bros, (almost every game I can think of) they all run in a realistic looking fashion, my Hobbit did not. It was not horribly obvious but it was something I kept noticing, each time I glanced at him, which detracted just a little bit from the game. How are you supposed to empathize with your character and get into the game when your avatar doesn't move around in a realistic manner?
While character movement seemed stilted, actual navigation of the countryside was made a breeze by a very detailed Minimap. It showed things such as vendors and quest givers...although the people I needed to talk to in order to finish my quests seemed strangely absent. They were in the game, they just didn't appear on the minimap, at least not that I could see. The intro area initially seemed overwhelming but once I'd done a couple of the "Kill X of Y Mobs" quests, or "Gather X of Y herbs" I'd become reasonably familiar with the zone and had little trouble finding my way around. Unlike WoWs seamless world, LOTRO's Inns and Stores are instanced, but load times (at least on my PC) were very quick. Open a door, step into the portal and a second or two later you're inside the building. Open the door, step into the portal, and a second or two later you're outside again. Not painful at all.
As I ran around I figured I'd concentrate on quests rather than grinding, and this appears the smart way to level in LOTRO anyway. I'm sure you get more XP/kill for a same level mob in WoW than you do in LOTRO, but then the XP needed to level in LOTRO seems to be less as well, at least for the initial levels. One quest asked me to kill some pigs and bring the meat back to the quest giver. After collecting all the meat I needed I killed one extra pig, but I did not feel compelled to grind out the XP I needed to level, or even just kill piggies for some "bonus" XP. Just completing quests earned me substantial XP and I leveled reasonably quickly anyway. I also loved that LOTRO shows you the vendor prices of your loot. In WoW I need to have a 3rd party program installed to see how much an item will sell for. In LOTRO they tell you, which makes choosing between two Quest Reward Items, neither of which you'll use, very easy to make. Usually I could use one of the items, but I think once or twice I completed a quest with no useful reward, so knowing which item would sell for more more money was a big plus.
At level 5 I earned the privilege of being able to add a title to my name. Because I hadn't died on my journey to level 5 I could choose to display myself as Bilimac the Wary, which I thought was hardly fair. One quest had my lvl 4 Hobbit take on a lvl 5 Pig and here's a definite difference between WoW and LOTRO. In WoW, a lvl 1 Toon taking on a lvl 2 Mob is a foregone conclusion. The Mob is going down. Most Toons in WoW should be able to take on two Mobs their own level, or one Mob a couple of levels higher than them, and know without a doubt they're going to be successful. This lvl 5 Pig had me worried and I was casting spells as fast as I could, only being a Minstrel my "spells" were Ballads that buffed & healed me while damaging my opponent. It didn't help that as a Minstrel I can currently only wear cloth armor which offered little protection against the razor sharp tusks of my foe. Fortunately a couple of people who'd turned up to kill the Pig as well joined in but it was still touch & go and even with their help I finished the fight with about 1/4 of my health remaining. Oddly enough I was actually concerned I would be defeated by the Pig. In WoW I was never worried about dying, and while LOTRO has a very lax Death Penalty, I'm still determined to advance as far in the LOTRO Beta as I can without dying once. I think it's also that I knew the Pig was a tough opponent so I did not relish coming back for a rematch if he defeated me.
So I was reluctant to add the title "...the Wary" to my name because my Minstrel had not been a cautious fellow or shied away from danger. Fortunately I had a second choice, being the addition of a "family" name, and so I became Bilimac of the Fallohides which matches both my appearance and the class I chose. I'm a fair-skinned, blonde, Minstrel, all of which are traits of the Fallohide Hobbits. Apparently if I can make it to lvl 10 without dying I can become Bilimac the Undefeated, but again that probably describes more of a cautious, wary player so unless something better comes along at 10 I shall remain Bilimac of the Fallohides.
A big change from WoW was less of the Kill X of Y Mobs quests. There were a few of them, don't get me wrong, but it never seemed like I was on a treadmill, killing mob after mob after mob. Rather many quests had you running around, exploring the zones and talking to people. You can do those one of two ways. The fast way, "Shut up already and give me my reward!" or the slow way, where you read what they have to say and immerse yourself in the game world. There are also delivery quests that are quite different from what WoW has to offer. Delivering Pies for a baker I cannot get into combat or the pie will naturally get ruined when I'm forced to defend myself, nor can I swim across rivers, Pies do not like water, for some reason. I also have to avoid Hungry Hobbits. Not all Hobbits are hungry...ok, they all are, but there are certain Hobbits labeled as Hungry, and they're the ones to avoid. There are also Mail Run quests, again where you cannot get into combat or swim across rivers, but this time you need to avoid Nosey Hobbits. Get too close to a Nosey Hobbit or a Hungry Hobbit (if you have Pies) and you fail the quest. These quests are also timed so it's not like you can take the long way around but you still need to give these interfering Hobbits a wide berth. Cutting through someone's front yard was not enough, as I found out trying to avoid a Nosey Hobbit on the path, and I failed that particular Mail Run quest. All of these quests serve to introduce you to the game world and make you feel like you're part of something real, and it's a definite change of pace from WoW's typical Kill 10 Rats quests.
As I completed quests I acquired new items, both from the Mobs I slew and from generous citizens grateful for my help, but as the Quest Reward items were generally better than anything I found on defeated foes, I never felt compelled to kill Mobs just to see if I could get some good loot. Of course we're still early in the game. In WoW, especially at higher levels, it's not uncommon to spend literally hours killing the same Mobs in one area over and over and over again for the cloth, money, and items they drop. By the time my Hobbit was level 5 I'd acquired a hat and some shoulder pads (armor) as Quest Rewards. Such items are not available in WoW until lvls 15 or higher. More pieces of armor, hats, etc, serve two purposes. More armor obviously helps to keep you alive longer, but it also helps to give your character a slightly more unique appearance. Of course two Hobbit Minstrels completing the same quests will most likely choose the same Armor, so you might still end up looking very much like every other Minstrel out there, but when I found a green pair of gloves with the same armor as my current gloves, but which sold for less, I promptly equipped the cheaper gloves and sold the more expensive pair. I also picked up a pair of ear rings and a bracelet which I was able to wear and which showed up on my Hobbit, so there are always choices to make that can individualize your toon.
I have 1 more week to play the Beta at which time the game goes live and I'll need to buy a copy of the game if I want to continue playing. Given that I don't know anyone who's going to play LOTRO, and that an MMO is really a social experience and is a lot more fun with friends, and given that there's still so much for me to do in WoW, I currently cannot see myself buying LOTRO, yet. If I had several friends who I knew were going to play I might give up WoW and join them in LOTRO, as two gaming subscriptions is not something I'm prepared to take on just yet. Although chances are if I was going to play LOTRO I'd probably do the $200 Lifetime subscription. Pay once and play forever. I like that option.
Overall I liked what Turbine have done with the game. There was just enough LOTR Lore thrown in to make you feel like you really were in Middle Earth, and once I got out of the lowbie area and entered the Shire, a considerably larger zone with many more Hobbits running around, it really was like the book come to life...which is sort of like being a part of the movie. I think Turbine have a winner with this one.
Monday, April 16, 2007
KCET & McDs
I took JE & his Tiger Cub Scout buddy "W" for a tour of the local KCET Studio yesterday. We lucked out in getting in on that. I called them asking about tours because the boys needed to do a tour of a TV Studio or Newspaper Office to help earn their Tiger Cub badge. The first person I spoke to said they didn't do tours anymore, but she transferred me to a fellow that she said might be able to help and I guess I hit the right chord with him because he said to shoot him off an email and he'd see what he could do.
So I sent him an email and never heard anything back, and was thinking I'd have to write off the KCET Tour and do a tour of the local newspaper office instead. Then last week the guy called back and said he could do the tour around 10:30 this Sunday, so 10am found me and JE picking up W and we were off to west LA and KCET.
We arrived around 10:45 and after chatting with the security guard out the front who called our guy to verify we were ok to be there, we were in. I got a couple of pictures of the boys next to the "Welcome to KCET" sign then our guide arrived to show us around. We got to see pretty much everything inside KCET, the editing board, the recording studio, a green stage room, and a stage where a game show was being filmed while we stood watching in the wings. It was pretty cool. Afterwards I got a picture of the boys standing under a Sesame Street street sign.
With the boys complaining they were hungry (in fact they'd been complaining before the tour started) we were off down the road to the closest McDonalds where I ran into the McDonald's cashiers from hell. Ok, not really their fault. They were obviously new. But that excuse has a very short expiration date.
I ordered two Happy Meals, one with a plain Cheeseburger, and one with six pieces of nuggets.
Wait, slow down, said the cashier.
Dude, I didn't order that quickly, and what's so hard to understand about two Happy Meals, one with a plain Cheeseburger and one with a six-piece of nuggets. Ok, technically the Happy Meal with the six-piece is a Big Kids Meal, but seriously, that wasn't a complicated order...unless you're new on the job, like my guy.
He finally got my order right after two other employees came over to help, one of which was the Shift Manager, but I still had to explain several times that I wanted two Happy Meals, one with a plain Cheeseburger, and one with the six piece of nuggets.
Now W is a rather peculiar child. He doesn't like ketchup (or catsup...or tomato sauce) with his fries; he likes ice cream. Last time I took JE & W to McDs for lunch I relented and bought him a small vanilla shake...wait, that was the first time we ate at McDs. So W had his ice cream and he was dipping his fries in and eating them, and I'm ok with that. I prefer a chocolate shake for my fries but some like chocolate, some like vanilla. Then disaster struck. W knocked over his shake which naturally ran out all over the place because you can't have the lid on your shake if you're dipping your fries.
The second time we ate at McDs W was drinking his milk from those cute little bottles they have. Like JE, he was using a straw. Unlike JE, who'd lifted his bottle off the edge of the table and held it down low so his straw and bottle were mostly vertical, W just tipped his bottle towards him, so bottle and straw were mostly horizontal, and the almost full bottle of milk was quickly emptied into W's lap.
Remembering the ice cream incident, with recap provided by JE, I was reluctant to get W even a small ice cream lest he make a mess. He ate a couple of the fries and declared them delicious, and I thought we were good to go. What kid doesn't love french fries? W doesn't. He asked for a second plain Cheeseburger, yes, he'd eaten the first. With money from his mom in my pocket I figured I couldn't let the kid go hungry, so I approached the counter and ordered a second plain Cheeseburger, from a different cashier this time. Just the Cheeseburger. Not a meal, nothing complicated; one plain Cheeseburger.
Got the Cheeseburger, unwrapped it, and saw lettuce on the sides, and onion. Lifting up the lid I saw a couple of pickles, and vegies and ketchup and sauce everywhere. This was not a plain Cheeseburger.
Excuse me, I said, I ordered a plain Cheeseburger. (WTF is up with your staff today???)
Literally within seconds the cooks had slapped a cheese-covered patty inside a bun and W's second plain Cheeseburger was in my hands. Kudos to them.
Then I saw the Shift Manager ask the cashier if I'd ordered a plain Cheeseburger, and he promptly shook his head.
Guess what, pal? The Shift Manager saw the problems I had earlier trying to order a Happy Meal with a plain Cheeseburger. She knows I ordered a plain Cheeseburger this time, too. Don't lie to the man, especially if she's a woman.
I didn't humiliate the guy by making a point out of it and saying I had ordered a plain Cheeseburger, but I'm sure the Shift Manager spoke to him afterwards anyway.
I've got no problems with McDs hiring 16-year olds and paying them minimum wage and working their arses off, but I'm not going to make allowances for them. I did my time in retail and customer service and quite frankly if you can't perform, if you can't provide excellent customer service, you've got no business being there. Yeah, you're only getting minimum wage and you've got rude customers up in your face, but that's part of retail and if you can't deal with that don't get a job in customer service. I could deal with that. I was bloody good at it, but it doesn't pay the bills. That's the only reason I left. I'd still be working in retail and kissing up to you and licking your boots and I'm so good at it that you'd totally believe I was loving every second of it, if it paid the bills, but it doesn't and that's why I'm not there any longer.
I understand new people on the job need to learn the ropes. So learn the ropes, get the job done and when you mess up be man enough to say, "Yeah, he could have ordered a plain Cheeseburger. I might have missed that." There are so many people willing to kiss arse for minimum wage that to keep someone on who's not going to give 100% is just inexcusable. You're doing yourself a disservice by hiring substandard help, you're doing your current staff a disservice by teaming them up with someone who's not going to pull their weight, and you're doing your customers a disservice by having them served by someone who's not going to provide excellent customer service. If you can't stand the heat, get out of McDonalds.
So I sent him an email and never heard anything back, and was thinking I'd have to write off the KCET Tour and do a tour of the local newspaper office instead. Then last week the guy called back and said he could do the tour around 10:30 this Sunday, so 10am found me and JE picking up W and we were off to west LA and KCET.
We arrived around 10:45 and after chatting with the security guard out the front who called our guy to verify we were ok to be there, we were in. I got a couple of pictures of the boys next to the "Welcome to KCET" sign then our guide arrived to show us around. We got to see pretty much everything inside KCET, the editing board, the recording studio, a green stage room, and a stage where a game show was being filmed while we stood watching in the wings. It was pretty cool. Afterwards I got a picture of the boys standing under a Sesame Street street sign.
With the boys complaining they were hungry (in fact they'd been complaining before the tour started) we were off down the road to the closest McDonalds where I ran into the McDonald's cashiers from hell. Ok, not really their fault. They were obviously new. But that excuse has a very short expiration date.
I ordered two Happy Meals, one with a plain Cheeseburger, and one with six pieces of nuggets.
Wait, slow down, said the cashier.
Dude, I didn't order that quickly, and what's so hard to understand about two Happy Meals, one with a plain Cheeseburger and one with a six-piece of nuggets. Ok, technically the Happy Meal with the six-piece is a Big Kids Meal, but seriously, that wasn't a complicated order...unless you're new on the job, like my guy.
He finally got my order right after two other employees came over to help, one of which was the Shift Manager, but I still had to explain several times that I wanted two Happy Meals, one with a plain Cheeseburger, and one with the six piece of nuggets.
Now W is a rather peculiar child. He doesn't like ketchup (or catsup...or tomato sauce) with his fries; he likes ice cream. Last time I took JE & W to McDs for lunch I relented and bought him a small vanilla shake...wait, that was the first time we ate at McDs. So W had his ice cream and he was dipping his fries in and eating them, and I'm ok with that. I prefer a chocolate shake for my fries but some like chocolate, some like vanilla. Then disaster struck. W knocked over his shake which naturally ran out all over the place because you can't have the lid on your shake if you're dipping your fries.
The second time we ate at McDs W was drinking his milk from those cute little bottles they have. Like JE, he was using a straw. Unlike JE, who'd lifted his bottle off the edge of the table and held it down low so his straw and bottle were mostly vertical, W just tipped his bottle towards him, so bottle and straw were mostly horizontal, and the almost full bottle of milk was quickly emptied into W's lap.
Remembering the ice cream incident, with recap provided by JE, I was reluctant to get W even a small ice cream lest he make a mess. He ate a couple of the fries and declared them delicious, and I thought we were good to go. What kid doesn't love french fries? W doesn't. He asked for a second plain Cheeseburger, yes, he'd eaten the first. With money from his mom in my pocket I figured I couldn't let the kid go hungry, so I approached the counter and ordered a second plain Cheeseburger, from a different cashier this time. Just the Cheeseburger. Not a meal, nothing complicated; one plain Cheeseburger.
Got the Cheeseburger, unwrapped it, and saw lettuce on the sides, and onion. Lifting up the lid I saw a couple of pickles, and vegies and ketchup and sauce everywhere. This was not a plain Cheeseburger.
Excuse me, I said, I ordered a plain Cheeseburger. (WTF is up with your staff today???)
Literally within seconds the cooks had slapped a cheese-covered patty inside a bun and W's second plain Cheeseburger was in my hands. Kudos to them.
Then I saw the Shift Manager ask the cashier if I'd ordered a plain Cheeseburger, and he promptly shook his head.
Guess what, pal? The Shift Manager saw the problems I had earlier trying to order a Happy Meal with a plain Cheeseburger. She knows I ordered a plain Cheeseburger this time, too. Don't lie to the man, especially if she's a woman.
I didn't humiliate the guy by making a point out of it and saying I had ordered a plain Cheeseburger, but I'm sure the Shift Manager spoke to him afterwards anyway.
I've got no problems with McDs hiring 16-year olds and paying them minimum wage and working their arses off, but I'm not going to make allowances for them. I did my time in retail and customer service and quite frankly if you can't perform, if you can't provide excellent customer service, you've got no business being there. Yeah, you're only getting minimum wage and you've got rude customers up in your face, but that's part of retail and if you can't deal with that don't get a job in customer service. I could deal with that. I was bloody good at it, but it doesn't pay the bills. That's the only reason I left. I'd still be working in retail and kissing up to you and licking your boots and I'm so good at it that you'd totally believe I was loving every second of it, if it paid the bills, but it doesn't and that's why I'm not there any longer.
I understand new people on the job need to learn the ropes. So learn the ropes, get the job done and when you mess up be man enough to say, "Yeah, he could have ordered a plain Cheeseburger. I might have missed that." There are so many people willing to kiss arse for minimum wage that to keep someone on who's not going to give 100% is just inexcusable. You're doing yourself a disservice by hiring substandard help, you're doing your current staff a disservice by teaming them up with someone who's not going to pull their weight, and you're doing your customers a disservice by having them served by someone who's not going to provide excellent customer service. If you can't stand the heat, get out of McDonalds.
I expected better from Kellerman
I'm currently reading Jonathan Kellerman's "Therapy" and while I've always enjoyed his books I can't let slide what I see as a glaring mistake.
After informing a mother of the death of her son and his "girlfriend", whose identity is unknown until provided by the grieving mother, Milo immediately drives to the residence of the "girlfriend" and tells the father that his daughter has been killed.
The problem is that there was no ID on the girl's body, nor did she get ID'd by a relative. The grieving mother was not shown a photo of the dead girl; she just assumed the "blonde" that was found with her son was the last girl she knew him to be seeing. So acting on information provided by a woman who has gone into shock, and without verifying the information first, Milo tells a man that his daughter has been killed. The father kicks Milo out of the house when the "dead" daughter walks in the backdoor.
I don't know much about law enforcement, but it seems to me that before you'd tell someone their child is dead you'd want to get a more positive ID than "Wwaaahhh! My son is dead! Boo hoo hoo! Huh? He was with a blonde girl? That must be Kelly Smith. Wwaaahhh!!! My son is dead! Boo hoo hoo!"
Milo eventually gets a photo of the dead girl to show around (and shows it to the parents of the dead boy who don't recognize her), but you'd think he would have made more of an effort to identify the dead girl first, or at least got a photo to show the father before telling him his daughter is dead.
* * *
Milo: "Mr. Smith, I'm afraid your daughter is dead."
Smith: "Oh my god. That's so quick."
Milo: "Sir?"
Smith: "I was just talking to her in the kitchen. Kelly? This nice policeman out here says you're dead."
Kelly (from kitchen): "I guess I must be, Daddy. I mean he is a policeman."
Milo: "Er...do you have...any other daughters?"
Smith: "Nope. Just the dead one."
Milo: "I gotta go. Got...stuff to do. Important...policeman stuff. You know. Bye!"
Runs out door.
Smith enters kitchen where Kelly is lying face down at the table, a large kitchen knife protrudes from her back.
Smith sits down and resumes reading his book "Ventriloquism for Dummies".
* * *
No, that's not how it went in Therapy:P
After informing a mother of the death of her son and his "girlfriend", whose identity is unknown until provided by the grieving mother, Milo immediately drives to the residence of the "girlfriend" and tells the father that his daughter has been killed.
The problem is that there was no ID on the girl's body, nor did she get ID'd by a relative. The grieving mother was not shown a photo of the dead girl; she just assumed the "blonde" that was found with her son was the last girl she knew him to be seeing. So acting on information provided by a woman who has gone into shock, and without verifying the information first, Milo tells a man that his daughter has been killed. The father kicks Milo out of the house when the "dead" daughter walks in the backdoor.
I don't know much about law enforcement, but it seems to me that before you'd tell someone their child is dead you'd want to get a more positive ID than "Wwaaahhh! My son is dead! Boo hoo hoo! Huh? He was with a blonde girl? That must be Kelly Smith. Wwaaahhh!!! My son is dead! Boo hoo hoo!"
Milo eventually gets a photo of the dead girl to show around (and shows it to the parents of the dead boy who don't recognize her), but you'd think he would have made more of an effort to identify the dead girl first, or at least got a photo to show the father before telling him his daughter is dead.
* * *
Milo: "Mr. Smith, I'm afraid your daughter is dead."
Smith: "Oh my god. That's so quick."
Milo: "Sir?"
Smith: "I was just talking to her in the kitchen. Kelly? This nice policeman out here says you're dead."
Kelly (from kitchen): "I guess I must be, Daddy. I mean he is a policeman."
Milo: "Er...do you have...any other daughters?"
Smith: "Nope. Just the dead one."
Milo: "I gotta go. Got...stuff to do. Important...policeman stuff. You know. Bye!"
Runs out door.
Smith enters kitchen where Kelly is lying face down at the table, a large kitchen knife protrudes from her back.
Smith sits down and resumes reading his book "Ventriloquism for Dummies".
* * *
No, that's not how it went in Therapy:P
Friday, April 13, 2007
A short story
The chirping of the phone pierced his dreams and a sleep-clumsy hand moved towards the receiver. Finally he had the phone in his hands, the chirping stopped and he lay the receiver across his head.
"Hello?"
"Hi, son."
"Uh, hi, Dad."
One sleep-encrusted eyelid opened just a crack and he looked at the clock.
"Dad, it's 3am."
"I just wanted to tell you I love you."
"I love you too, Dad."
The phone was silent and he knew his Dad was gone.
Then both eyes opened and he stared at the clock. It wasn't 3am. It was 3:12am. It was 3:12am on the morning of Saturday, May 15th.
Six years ago his mother had woken up to find his father sitting on the edge of their bed. She said he'd looked at her and with tears streaming down his cheeks he'd told her something was terribly wrong, and then he'd collapsed onto the floor.
The paramedics had not been able to revive him and he was pronounced dead at the scene. Cause of death was a massive heart attack. The time of death was 3:12am, Saturday, May 15th.
As he stared at the clock the phone began chirping again. He answered it reluctantly, hesitatingly.
"Hello?"
"Hi, son."
He laughed.
"Hi, Mum. He called you, too. Didn't he?"
They talked for a while before hanging up, and then he just lay there, staring at the ceiling. He lay there for a long time before sleep finally reclaimed him. The phone never rang again.
"Hello?"
"Hi, son."
"Uh, hi, Dad."
One sleep-encrusted eyelid opened just a crack and he looked at the clock.
"Dad, it's 3am."
"I just wanted to tell you I love you."
"I love you too, Dad."
The phone was silent and he knew his Dad was gone.
Then both eyes opened and he stared at the clock. It wasn't 3am. It was 3:12am. It was 3:12am on the morning of Saturday, May 15th.
Six years ago his mother had woken up to find his father sitting on the edge of their bed. She said he'd looked at her and with tears streaming down his cheeks he'd told her something was terribly wrong, and then he'd collapsed onto the floor.
The paramedics had not been able to revive him and he was pronounced dead at the scene. Cause of death was a massive heart attack. The time of death was 3:12am, Saturday, May 15th.
As he stared at the clock the phone began chirping again. He answered it reluctantly, hesitatingly.
"Hello?"
"Hi, son."
He laughed.
"Hi, Mum. He called you, too. Didn't he?"
They talked for a while before hanging up, and then he just lay there, staring at the ceiling. He lay there for a long time before sleep finally reclaimed him. The phone never rang again.
Monday, April 09, 2007
Cruising down Mexico way
So we spent the last week on & off a cruise liner, sailing down the west coast to Cabo San Lucas, Mazatlan and Puerto Vallarta, then 2 days at sea as we sailed north back to sunny...er...dreary and overcast Los Angeles.
It was an interesting cruise, to say the least, with a 2-year old and a 6-year old in tow. JE was able to attend the Kids' Club, which meant after breakfast if we had no plans we'd drop him off at the Kids' Club clubroom then pick him up for lunch, then later drop him back there again, then pick him up for dinner, then drop him off again, then pick him up in time for bed. Our little cherub of a daughter, falling into the "less-than-three" age bracket, stayed with us for almost the entire cruise until Liz mentioned she'd seen something about a baby sitting service. We made some inquiries and discovered that for the incredibly low price of $8 per hour we could have a sitter watch our treasure while Liz and I had some quality time, without the kids. I ask you, why did we only find out about that at the end of the week-long cruise?
JE and I took part in several activities, including frequent trips to the pool. We also took part in a bean bag tossing competition (which I won, scoring a Gold Medal shaped like the Royal Caribbean logo, which I gave to JE). We also played a few games of Shuffleboard, or at least pushed the pucks from one end to the other. Oddly enough the cruise ship also had a 30' rock climbing wall, which JE climbed to a height of 6' before wanting down...NOW!
Later on I took part in a speed climbing competition against 3 other men, and I'm happy to say that with a combined time of 25sec for two climbs I took home the silver medal.
The winner's time was 22sec (give or take a few 1/10s of a second). The record for the single fastest climb to the top is 5 seconds, but that record is held by the Head Climbing Instructor. The guest record is 6 seconds :P
Oddly enough the Head Climbing Instructor is from Perth, in Western Australia. He told me to track down one of the dealers in the casino who he said was from Victoria, my home state. At the casino when I asked the female Pitboss if Dave was working I discovered I was talking to yet another Aussie, a Queenslander, and found that Dave is not from Victoria but from New South Wales, from a tiny town called Tathra, to be specific. The significance of this is two-fold. The population of Tathra is approximately 10% of that of my own hometown of Traralgon; we're talking real "small town" here. And two, Tathra just happens to be where my family used to holiday many, many years ago. In fact Dave said of all the Aussies he's met on the cruise ship, more Victorians know of Tathra than do his fellow New South Welshmen. Dave was manning the Craps table when I met him, and it was a happening place. I was so caught up in what was going on that I wanted to play, even though I had no clue what was going on. I resisted the urge though, but I think I'd like to play Craps one day. It seems a lot more fun than feeding quarters into a slot machine.
Also interesting to note was that of the staff on board the ship and the many nationalities that were represented, while North Americans (Canadians excluded) made up a majority of the passengers, I do not recall seeing a single North American working. There were Canadians, and Central and South Americans, there were Europeans and Asians, people from all over the globe...but nobody from North America. Apparently most people sign on for a 6-month contract, and that means six months of non-stop dedication to the ship and company. Not to speak ill of my fellow (adopted) countrymen, but it does seem as though Americans can't hack life on board a cruise ship.
Now our waiters were some of the most attentive staff I've ever had the pleasure of being served by, if not THE best. When we turned up for dinner on the second night we had a high chair in Amber's seat, and it was there waiting for us every night after that. Dixon and Johnee also memorized the kids' likes and dislikes, as well as our own bread and dessert preferences, too ;)
While expensive to get away for a week, when you work out that accommodation, food and most on-board activities are included (bar gambling, of course), the price of a cruise is actually reasonably cheap compared to staying in a 5-star hotel for the same period of time. After all, at the hotel you still need to pay for your meals, then you need to get out and about and have a good time. On a cruise ship there's a couple of shows each night and activities during the day, and the service! One night I even rocked up to the Main Dining room at 10pm just as they were shutting down and within minutes (literallly) I was leaving with two plates of food; one with a hotdog & fries, and one with a cheeseburger & fries. Midnight snacks! Yeah, baby!
So we had a great time, but we're glad to be back, too :)
More photos can be seen at Liz's Flicker Site.
It was an interesting cruise, to say the least, with a 2-year old and a 6-year old in tow. JE was able to attend the Kids' Club, which meant after breakfast if we had no plans we'd drop him off at the Kids' Club clubroom then pick him up for lunch, then later drop him back there again, then pick him up for dinner, then drop him off again, then pick him up in time for bed. Our little cherub of a daughter, falling into the "less-than-three" age bracket, stayed with us for almost the entire cruise until Liz mentioned she'd seen something about a baby sitting service. We made some inquiries and discovered that for the incredibly low price of $8 per hour we could have a sitter watch our treasure while Liz and I had some quality time, without the kids. I ask you, why did we only find out about that at the end of the week-long cruise?
JE and I took part in several activities, including frequent trips to the pool. We also took part in a bean bag tossing competition (which I won, scoring a Gold Medal shaped like the Royal Caribbean logo, which I gave to JE). We also played a few games of Shuffleboard, or at least pushed the pucks from one end to the other. Oddly enough the cruise ship also had a 30' rock climbing wall, which JE climbed to a height of 6' before wanting down...NOW!
Later on I took part in a speed climbing competition against 3 other men, and I'm happy to say that with a combined time of 25sec for two climbs I took home the silver medal.
The winner's time was 22sec (give or take a few 1/10s of a second). The record for the single fastest climb to the top is 5 seconds, but that record is held by the Head Climbing Instructor. The guest record is 6 seconds :P
Oddly enough the Head Climbing Instructor is from Perth, in Western Australia. He told me to track down one of the dealers in the casino who he said was from Victoria, my home state. At the casino when I asked the female Pitboss if Dave was working I discovered I was talking to yet another Aussie, a Queenslander, and found that Dave is not from Victoria but from New South Wales, from a tiny town called Tathra, to be specific. The significance of this is two-fold. The population of Tathra is approximately 10% of that of my own hometown of Traralgon; we're talking real "small town" here. And two, Tathra just happens to be where my family used to holiday many, many years ago. In fact Dave said of all the Aussies he's met on the cruise ship, more Victorians know of Tathra than do his fellow New South Welshmen. Dave was manning the Craps table when I met him, and it was a happening place. I was so caught up in what was going on that I wanted to play, even though I had no clue what was going on. I resisted the urge though, but I think I'd like to play Craps one day. It seems a lot more fun than feeding quarters into a slot machine.
Also interesting to note was that of the staff on board the ship and the many nationalities that were represented, while North Americans (Canadians excluded) made up a majority of the passengers, I do not recall seeing a single North American working. There were Canadians, and Central and South Americans, there were Europeans and Asians, people from all over the globe...but nobody from North America. Apparently most people sign on for a 6-month contract, and that means six months of non-stop dedication to the ship and company. Not to speak ill of my fellow (adopted) countrymen, but it does seem as though Americans can't hack life on board a cruise ship.
Now our waiters were some of the most attentive staff I've ever had the pleasure of being served by, if not THE best. When we turned up for dinner on the second night we had a high chair in Amber's seat, and it was there waiting for us every night after that. Dixon and Johnee also memorized the kids' likes and dislikes, as well as our own bread and dessert preferences, too ;)
While expensive to get away for a week, when you work out that accommodation, food and most on-board activities are included (bar gambling, of course), the price of a cruise is actually reasonably cheap compared to staying in a 5-star hotel for the same period of time. After all, at the hotel you still need to pay for your meals, then you need to get out and about and have a good time. On a cruise ship there's a couple of shows each night and activities during the day, and the service! One night I even rocked up to the Main Dining room at 10pm just as they were shutting down and within minutes (literallly) I was leaving with two plates of food; one with a hotdog & fries, and one with a cheeseburger & fries. Midnight snacks! Yeah, baby!
So we had a great time, but we're glad to be back, too :)
More photos can be seen at Liz's Flicker Site.
Friday, March 30, 2007
Kwazimoto and the demon
Kwazimoto quietly watched the human who looked more like he belonged on the piers of Booty Bay than wandering around the lava pools of the Burning Steppes.
"Franklin the Friendly, huh?" said Kwazimoto to himself. "If you're so friendly, why do you smell like a demon?"
A few days earlier Kwazi had carefully approached Franklin and engaged him in conversation.
"Lava?" said Franklin. "Pay no mind to all of that, friend. Look around you. Take in the joys that nature has to offer."
"Er...ok," Kwazi replied, as the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.
Franklin looked down at Kwazi, smiling affably, but every one of Kwazi’s Hunter instincts was screaming at him that this was not someone to trifle with. Rex, Kwazi's Tiger companion from Durotar's Echo Isles, had begun growling at Franklin as soon as they'd approached. Kwazi had placed his arm over the Tiger's neck but that had only lowered the volume of the big cat's growl, not stopped it completely. In fact Rex didn't stop growling until long after they'd left Franklin, still smiling and looking after them as he stood among the lava pools...and Wyrmkin...and other beasties, which all gave him a wide, respectable berth, as if they too knew that Franklin was more than just a mere man.
Kwazimoto had returned to Lakeshire, got Rex settled in with Penny at the Inn and then had Verner Osgood check over his armor and equipment.
"Everything is in excellent shape, Kwazi," Verner had said to the Dwarf when he'd picked up his armor. "Why, you could probably take on a demon single-handed with nary a scratch to show for it!"
Verner had been chuckling at his own joke until Kwazi growled, "Good, because I'm about to do just that."
Only then had Verner looked around and noticed that Rex, who had a habit of not being there unless you really looked for him, really wasn't there.
"You're heading north?" he'd asked Kwazi, already knowing the answer. "You're after Klinfran?" Kwazi just nodded as he buckled on his mithril vest. Very serious now, Verner sought to reassure his old friend, "your armor really is in great condition, you know. And the action on your rifle is working as smooth as silk. Your gear will not let you down."
"Aye, Kwazi replied, "and that's how it should be. This is a test of my abilities, not my gear." And being a dwarf of little words he'd said nothing more as he mounted up and rode away than "Be seein' ya."
Leaving his Ram at Morgan's Vigil Kwazi had trekked across the Burning Steppes to Blackrock Mountain, and there, just south of the imposing monolith, he again found "Franklin the Friendly", wandering among the lava pools, Wyrmkin and giant spiders.
Kwazi watched and waited and when "Franklin" was more on his own and the nearby beasties were not so close he began his approach. Kwazi prided himself on his stalking skills, and he was positive he'd dislodged not even the smallest pebble, yet Franklin still turned to face him as if he'd known the Hunter was there all along. Despite the heat from the surrounding lava pools, under Franklin's gaze Kwazi's blood ran cold and he knew his instincts had not let him down.
"Greetings, friend. Lovely weather we're having," said Franklin.
"Can it, demon! I know who you are!" growled Kwazi, then he quickly backed away as Franklin's face darkened then began to change, along with the rest of his body.
With a roar that echoed off the surrounding mountains Klinfran the Crazed tore away his human disguise, revealing his demonic self to the Dwarf that had so brashly challenged him, who promptly shot him in the face. The demon was stunned for several seconds and this gave Kwazimoto all the time he needed, to turn and run.
And the words of Kwazi's mentor came back to him in a rush, far faster than he could have recalled them while sitting down over a pint.
"The Hunter does not use strength of arm to win the battle, he uses his mind.
The Hunter picks the site of battle, and if he cannot, he picks the time.
The Hunter who makes his opponent fight the Hunter's fight will always win, regardless of strength of arm.
The Hunter uses his speed and agility to wear down a stronger, more heavily armored foe.
Just as there is no dishonor for the Rogue to attack from behind, with devastating blows that stun and immobilize his opponent, so too there is no dishonor for the Hunter to attack from a distance and never give his opponent the chance to strike back."
Kwazimoto knew of Klinfran's reputation and his extreme hatred for Hunters, especially those seeking to test themselves against him. "But do we seek to battle Klinfran because he hates Hunters?" Kwazi thought to himself. "Or does he hate Hunters because we repeatedly banish him to his home plane?"
But those questions were irrelevant at this point in time and best pondered, like his mentor's teachings, over a pint of Thunder Ale at the Kharanos Inn with his good friend Jarven.
Knowing he'd gained some ground on the demon, but also fully aware of its unnatural speed and strength, Kwazi stopped for a second. Spinning around he shouldered his rifle and took aim. For anyone else such a shot would be impossible. Kwazi had just run fifty yards in less than five seconds, and now he was attempting to accurately shoot his rifle at a fast approaching target. Admittedly it was a huge target, standing well over ten feet tall, but the size of this target worked against the ordinary shooter because this was no ordinary target but a very large and angry demon. But Kwazimoto was also not an ordinary shooter; he was a Hunter, and he'd been training his entire life for this very moment.
Even at the pace he'd run it fifty yards was nothing to a Dwarf who could run all day on a hunk of Dwarven Mild sandwiched between two slices of Myra Tyrngaarde's legendary Cornbread. In just a couple of seconds, despite the demon looming ever larger in his sights, Kwazimoto's breathing and heart rate slowed. His rifle stopped bouncing around and the bead on the front of the barrel settled down into the notched blade at the rear, and both sights were aligned perfectly with the demon's massive chest. If the sights did bob slightly with his heartbeat they were in synch with the bouncing stride of the fast approaching demon, and the front bead remained centered on Klinfran's torso.
Kwazimoto never consciously squeezed the trigger, the Hunter never does; his body just knows when the time is right and it takes the shot itself. The rifle kicked in his arms and Kwazi knew his shot had been true; he didn't need Klinfran's angry roar to confirm that.
Once more Kwazi turned and ran with the demon hot on his heels and he quickly settled into a rhythm. He didn't count the steps; like his body knowing when to shoot, his Hunter instincts just told him the time was right, and time after time he stopped, turned, and paused for a second. Then the rifle barked and Klinfran roared and Kwazi turned and continued running.
The demon chased the Dwarf all the way across the Burning Steppes and Kwazi was shocked when he recognized the path leading up to Morgan's Vigil. They'd run so far and he'd shot the demon so many times and still it kept coming, but the Hunter never gives up. To give up is to die (or at least fake it convincingly).
Kwazi stopped, turned, aimed and fired and Klinfran roared, but Kwazi stood his ground, reloading and firing again. Klinfran charged in as Kwazi reloaded a third time but still he didn't turn and run. At literally point blank range Kwazi fired a round directly into Klinfran's face and the demon stopped in its tracks, stunned.
For several seconds Klinfran wandered aimlessly in much the same manner as its human counterpart had earlier wandered around the lava pools, and Kwazi took this opportunity to dodge around the demon and start running back towards Blackrock Mountain. But as he ducked under its arms Kwazi took note of the black blood that covered the demon's chest, and he knew Klinfran couldn't have much left in him.
An angry roar told Kwazi that Klinfran had regained his senses but the Hunter had likewise regained his lead and the demon could do nothing but continue the chase. Once more Kwazi settled into his rhythm; run, stop, turn and shoot, turn and run again. But each time he took aim he could tell the demon was slowing down, and then the little voice inside him spoke up, and he stopped and turned and took aim.
The rifle barked but Kwazi stood his ground, reloading and taking aim once again. As Klinfran staggered towards him Kwazi settled his rifle's sights on the demon’s chest, his rifle barked, and time seemed to stand still.
So keyed up, so full of adrenaline was he, that Kwazi could almost see the thorium round as it left his rifle and flew towards Klinfran. In that split second Kwazi wondered if the demon with its supernatural senses could see it, or if it just knew its doom was once more at hand.
Kwazi had defeated many foes before facing down Klinfran, in fact three other mighty demons had already fallen before him, but Kwazi would remember this moment for the rest of his life.
At every retelling of this tale Kwazi would recall that as that final round streaked home, that Klinfran the Crazed, the mighty demon, had looked afraid. He always wondered if he'd imagined it but he couldn't shake the feeling that as he'd fired that final round Klinfran had started to turn, as if to run from the Hunter.
The old saying was very true, Kwazi thought to himself. Don't run from a Hunter, you'll only die tired.
* * *
If you enjoyed this story I've also written a 4-part series based on Kwazimoto's early years: Click here for part I of Becoming the Hunter.
"Franklin the Friendly, huh?" said Kwazimoto to himself. "If you're so friendly, why do you smell like a demon?"
A few days earlier Kwazi had carefully approached Franklin and engaged him in conversation.
"Lava?" said Franklin. "Pay no mind to all of that, friend. Look around you. Take in the joys that nature has to offer."
"Er...ok," Kwazi replied, as the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.
Franklin looked down at Kwazi, smiling affably, but every one of Kwazi’s Hunter instincts was screaming at him that this was not someone to trifle with. Rex, Kwazi's Tiger companion from Durotar's Echo Isles, had begun growling at Franklin as soon as they'd approached. Kwazi had placed his arm over the Tiger's neck but that had only lowered the volume of the big cat's growl, not stopped it completely. In fact Rex didn't stop growling until long after they'd left Franklin, still smiling and looking after them as he stood among the lava pools...and Wyrmkin...and other beasties, which all gave him a wide, respectable berth, as if they too knew that Franklin was more than just a mere man.
Kwazimoto had returned to Lakeshire, got Rex settled in with Penny at the Inn and then had Verner Osgood check over his armor and equipment.
"Everything is in excellent shape, Kwazi," Verner had said to the Dwarf when he'd picked up his armor. "Why, you could probably take on a demon single-handed with nary a scratch to show for it!"
Verner had been chuckling at his own joke until Kwazi growled, "Good, because I'm about to do just that."
Only then had Verner looked around and noticed that Rex, who had a habit of not being there unless you really looked for him, really wasn't there.
"You're heading north?" he'd asked Kwazi, already knowing the answer. "You're after Klinfran?" Kwazi just nodded as he buckled on his mithril vest. Very serious now, Verner sought to reassure his old friend, "your armor really is in great condition, you know. And the action on your rifle is working as smooth as silk. Your gear will not let you down."
"Aye, Kwazi replied, "and that's how it should be. This is a test of my abilities, not my gear." And being a dwarf of little words he'd said nothing more as he mounted up and rode away than "Be seein' ya."
Leaving his Ram at Morgan's Vigil Kwazi had trekked across the Burning Steppes to Blackrock Mountain, and there, just south of the imposing monolith, he again found "Franklin the Friendly", wandering among the lava pools, Wyrmkin and giant spiders.
Kwazi watched and waited and when "Franklin" was more on his own and the nearby beasties were not so close he began his approach. Kwazi prided himself on his stalking skills, and he was positive he'd dislodged not even the smallest pebble, yet Franklin still turned to face him as if he'd known the Hunter was there all along. Despite the heat from the surrounding lava pools, under Franklin's gaze Kwazi's blood ran cold and he knew his instincts had not let him down.
"Greetings, friend. Lovely weather we're having," said Franklin.
"Can it, demon! I know who you are!" growled Kwazi, then he quickly backed away as Franklin's face darkened then began to change, along with the rest of his body.
With a roar that echoed off the surrounding mountains Klinfran the Crazed tore away his human disguise, revealing his demonic self to the Dwarf that had so brashly challenged him, who promptly shot him in the face. The demon was stunned for several seconds and this gave Kwazimoto all the time he needed, to turn and run.
And the words of Kwazi's mentor came back to him in a rush, far faster than he could have recalled them while sitting down over a pint.
"The Hunter does not use strength of arm to win the battle, he uses his mind.
The Hunter picks the site of battle, and if he cannot, he picks the time.
The Hunter who makes his opponent fight the Hunter's fight will always win, regardless of strength of arm.
The Hunter uses his speed and agility to wear down a stronger, more heavily armored foe.
Just as there is no dishonor for the Rogue to attack from behind, with devastating blows that stun and immobilize his opponent, so too there is no dishonor for the Hunter to attack from a distance and never give his opponent the chance to strike back."
Kwazimoto knew of Klinfran's reputation and his extreme hatred for Hunters, especially those seeking to test themselves against him. "But do we seek to battle Klinfran because he hates Hunters?" Kwazi thought to himself. "Or does he hate Hunters because we repeatedly banish him to his home plane?"
But those questions were irrelevant at this point in time and best pondered, like his mentor's teachings, over a pint of Thunder Ale at the Kharanos Inn with his good friend Jarven.
Knowing he'd gained some ground on the demon, but also fully aware of its unnatural speed and strength, Kwazi stopped for a second. Spinning around he shouldered his rifle and took aim. For anyone else such a shot would be impossible. Kwazi had just run fifty yards in less than five seconds, and now he was attempting to accurately shoot his rifle at a fast approaching target. Admittedly it was a huge target, standing well over ten feet tall, but the size of this target worked against the ordinary shooter because this was no ordinary target but a very large and angry demon. But Kwazimoto was also not an ordinary shooter; he was a Hunter, and he'd been training his entire life for this very moment.
Even at the pace he'd run it fifty yards was nothing to a Dwarf who could run all day on a hunk of Dwarven Mild sandwiched between two slices of Myra Tyrngaarde's legendary Cornbread. In just a couple of seconds, despite the demon looming ever larger in his sights, Kwazimoto's breathing and heart rate slowed. His rifle stopped bouncing around and the bead on the front of the barrel settled down into the notched blade at the rear, and both sights were aligned perfectly with the demon's massive chest. If the sights did bob slightly with his heartbeat they were in synch with the bouncing stride of the fast approaching demon, and the front bead remained centered on Klinfran's torso.
Kwazimoto never consciously squeezed the trigger, the Hunter never does; his body just knows when the time is right and it takes the shot itself. The rifle kicked in his arms and Kwazi knew his shot had been true; he didn't need Klinfran's angry roar to confirm that.
Once more Kwazi turned and ran with the demon hot on his heels and he quickly settled into a rhythm. He didn't count the steps; like his body knowing when to shoot, his Hunter instincts just told him the time was right, and time after time he stopped, turned, and paused for a second. Then the rifle barked and Klinfran roared and Kwazi turned and continued running.
The demon chased the Dwarf all the way across the Burning Steppes and Kwazi was shocked when he recognized the path leading up to Morgan's Vigil. They'd run so far and he'd shot the demon so many times and still it kept coming, but the Hunter never gives up. To give up is to die (or at least fake it convincingly).
Kwazi stopped, turned, aimed and fired and Klinfran roared, but Kwazi stood his ground, reloading and firing again. Klinfran charged in as Kwazi reloaded a third time but still he didn't turn and run. At literally point blank range Kwazi fired a round directly into Klinfran's face and the demon stopped in its tracks, stunned.
For several seconds Klinfran wandered aimlessly in much the same manner as its human counterpart had earlier wandered around the lava pools, and Kwazi took this opportunity to dodge around the demon and start running back towards Blackrock Mountain. But as he ducked under its arms Kwazi took note of the black blood that covered the demon's chest, and he knew Klinfran couldn't have much left in him.
An angry roar told Kwazi that Klinfran had regained his senses but the Hunter had likewise regained his lead and the demon could do nothing but continue the chase. Once more Kwazi settled into his rhythm; run, stop, turn and shoot, turn and run again. But each time he took aim he could tell the demon was slowing down, and then the little voice inside him spoke up, and he stopped and turned and took aim.
The rifle barked but Kwazi stood his ground, reloading and taking aim once again. As Klinfran staggered towards him Kwazi settled his rifle's sights on the demon’s chest, his rifle barked, and time seemed to stand still.
So keyed up, so full of adrenaline was he, that Kwazi could almost see the thorium round as it left his rifle and flew towards Klinfran. In that split second Kwazi wondered if the demon with its supernatural senses could see it, or if it just knew its doom was once more at hand.
Kwazi had defeated many foes before facing down Klinfran, in fact three other mighty demons had already fallen before him, but Kwazi would remember this moment for the rest of his life.
At every retelling of this tale Kwazi would recall that as that final round streaked home, that Klinfran the Crazed, the mighty demon, had looked afraid. He always wondered if he'd imagined it but he couldn't shake the feeling that as he'd fired that final round Klinfran had started to turn, as if to run from the Hunter.
The old saying was very true, Kwazi thought to himself. Don't run from a Hunter, you'll only die tired.
* * *
If you enjoyed this story I've also written a 4-part series based on Kwazimoto's early years: Click here for part I of Becoming the Hunter.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Dawn of War
If only this were a movie.
Ok, so it is a movie, but it's only the intro movie to the Warhammer 40K:Dawn of War PC game; it's not a real movie :(
On the plus side, it's the rare hi-rez version of the intro movie, so once it starts playing in Windows Media Player hit Alt & Enter to go Full Screen, turn the sound up on your speakers, and enjoy two (very violent & bloody) minutes of Space Marines fighting Orks. Please note the file is 23Mb in size, and might take a while to download on a Dial-Up connection.
Ok, so it is a movie, but it's only the intro movie to the Warhammer 40K:Dawn of War PC game; it's not a real movie :(
On the plus side, it's the rare hi-rez version of the intro movie, so once it starts playing in Windows Media Player hit Alt & Enter to go Full Screen, turn the sound up on your speakers, and enjoy two (very violent & bloody) minutes of Space Marines fighting Orks. Please note the file is 23Mb in size, and might take a while to download on a Dial-Up connection.
Sunday, March 25, 2007
The weekend so far
Friday was my day off, which usually means I do stuff for Liz. Still not sure how that works. I put in my 80 hours (every two weeks) at work, eight 9-hour days and one 8-hour day so I get every other Friday off...but somehow that day off is not mine to spend as I wish. Aah, well. We did a bit of shopping, found a couple of the Flower Girls dresses for Mum's upcoming wedding, had dinner at what used to be our favorite Sushi restaurant but which has been usurped by another Sushi restaurant (I still like it though) then picked up the kids from Church.
Saturday JE had his T-Ball game where he was awarded the Game Ball (I have a sneaky suspicion every kid will have at least one Game Ball by the end of the season ;) then after dropping the kids back with the in-laws we met Xinh at a Japanese BBQ place in Pasadena. I wasn't impressed by the service, or the food. They brought out raw food and we had to cook it ourselves! Good Lord! I did a great job cooking so I gave myself a big tip ;)
Afterwards we did more Flower Girl dress shopping, and visited 3 more Burlington's, or was it 2 more? I lost count. But after driving around for hours we finally had three of the same dresses in the correct sizes.
I was glad to get back home.
This morning I got up early (for a Sunday) and met the gang at Angeles Range for some shooting. After firing a clip from my two coworkers' .40s, one a S&W and one a Glock, I much prefer my Beretta 96G. The Glock is very light so the heavy .40 tosses it around too much for my liking. The trigger pull of the S&W was too long, and it wasn't even shooting double-action; it was a looong trigger pull. I didn't like it. The heavier slide on my 96G tames the wild .40 better than the light Glock, and Beretta also gave the 96G a lighter trigger pull. It's not a hair trigger, but it's still a fairly short pull. It just reinforces what I've always believed; Beretta make bloody good firearms.
The chap next to me at the range had one of the biggest handguns manufactured (at the moment), the S&W 500. The clip below doesn't do this baby justice because there's too much background noise to really hear this hand cannon going off.
The following picture, blown up to full size, shows the S&W 500 a little more clearly.
After sending about 200 rounds downrange I packed up then stopped by the rifle benches where my buddy Felix had his arsenal set up, including both .50-caliber rifles that you've seen earlier (& can see again here). I said g'day but he had his hands full trying to extract a live .223 round from his Armalite that a buddy had managed to jam up into the receiver. They finally got it out after a struggle (using a screwdriver), then I saw someone else using a hammer to knock loose the bolt on a .50 and an unfired shell popped out, spraying gun powder everywhere but leaving the .50 round still lodged in the barrel of the rifle. They were not having a good morning so I took my leave and headed back to the safety of town and home.
I have tomorrow off in honor of Cesar Chavez Day (which is not until Saturday next weekend), but apparently Liz has activities planned for me. I hear Ikea is on the agenda. Hooray! Sarcasm? What sarcasm?
Cheers all,
Cap'n John.
Saturday JE had his T-Ball game where he was awarded the Game Ball (I have a sneaky suspicion every kid will have at least one Game Ball by the end of the season ;) then after dropping the kids back with the in-laws we met Xinh at a Japanese BBQ place in Pasadena. I wasn't impressed by the service, or the food. They brought out raw food and we had to cook it ourselves! Good Lord! I did a great job cooking so I gave myself a big tip ;)
Afterwards we did more Flower Girl dress shopping, and visited 3 more Burlington's, or was it 2 more? I lost count. But after driving around for hours we finally had three of the same dresses in the correct sizes.
I was glad to get back home.
This morning I got up early (for a Sunday) and met the gang at Angeles Range for some shooting. After firing a clip from my two coworkers' .40s, one a S&W and one a Glock, I much prefer my Beretta 96G. The Glock is very light so the heavy .40 tosses it around too much for my liking. The trigger pull of the S&W was too long, and it wasn't even shooting double-action; it was a looong trigger pull. I didn't like it. The heavier slide on my 96G tames the wild .40 better than the light Glock, and Beretta also gave the 96G a lighter trigger pull. It's not a hair trigger, but it's still a fairly short pull. It just reinforces what I've always believed; Beretta make bloody good firearms.
The chap next to me at the range had one of the biggest handguns manufactured (at the moment), the S&W 500. The clip below doesn't do this baby justice because there's too much background noise to really hear this hand cannon going off.
The following picture, blown up to full size, shows the S&W 500 a little more clearly.
After sending about 200 rounds downrange I packed up then stopped by the rifle benches where my buddy Felix had his arsenal set up, including both .50-caliber rifles that you've seen earlier (& can see again here). I said g'day but he had his hands full trying to extract a live .223 round from his Armalite that a buddy had managed to jam up into the receiver. They finally got it out after a struggle (using a screwdriver), then I saw someone else using a hammer to knock loose the bolt on a .50 and an unfired shell popped out, spraying gun powder everywhere but leaving the .50 round still lodged in the barrel of the rifle. They were not having a good morning so I took my leave and headed back to the safety of town and home.
I have tomorrow off in honor of Cesar Chavez Day (which is not until Saturday next weekend), but apparently Liz has activities planned for me. I hear Ikea is on the agenda. Hooray! Sarcasm? What sarcasm?
Cheers all,
Cap'n John.
Thursday, March 22, 2007
One for the ladies
Now I know I said a good Blog isn't made by throwing Youtube videos up, so I'm not just doing that ;) Yes, it's a Youtube vid, but this post is not just the clip, so I'm not violating one of my tenets for a good Blog :P
The following video is a current favorite song of mine. It's Josh Turner's "Would you go with me", and I must say, Josh seems just a little too smug for someone singing a love song. But I think I know why. It's coz Josh has an amazing vocal range and can not only sing Tenor but, please excuse the blasphemy, God damn if he can't also go so low he could be a world champion limbo dancer. The man has a deep voice. And I mean DEEP. And he knows it. And that's why he's such a smug bastard. I still love the song though. Enjoy ;)
And here's Mika's "Grace Kelly" that Lyndon mentions in his comment. Bloody hell, but if Mika isn't deliberately trying to sound like Freddy Mercury it's one hell of a coincidence.
The following video is a current favorite song of mine. It's Josh Turner's "Would you go with me", and I must say, Josh seems just a little too smug for someone singing a love song. But I think I know why. It's coz Josh has an amazing vocal range and can not only sing Tenor but, please excuse the blasphemy, God damn if he can't also go so low he could be a world champion limbo dancer. The man has a deep voice. And I mean DEEP. And he knows it. And that's why he's such a smug bastard. I still love the song though. Enjoy ;)
And here's Mika's "Grace Kelly" that Lyndon mentions in his comment. Bloody hell, but if Mika isn't deliberately trying to sound like Freddy Mercury it's one hell of a coincidence.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
I love comics
The reason I probably like WoW so much is the escapism that comes from being immersed in the game's world. That doesn't mean I hate my life, it just means for a brief period of time I get to be "someone else", a Hero capable of great feats, which is a lot more exciting than being a cockroach.
I love comics for the same reason. For a few pages you can slip into the life of Superman, Batman, or one of my childhood favorites, Captain America. In 1990 "they" made a Captain America movie that is apparently marginally better than the Punisher movie. That's the 1989 Punisher movie with Dolph Lundgren, not Thomas Jane's Punisher, which rocked!
Given the recent popularity of comic movies I'm surprised this didn't happen sooner, but apparently a new Captain America movie is in the works. Blade was awesome and Spiderman was a resounding success, but the Famous Four wasn't that hot and I don't think Ghostrider did too well, either. I really hope they don't fuck up Captain America.
It's bad enough that Steve Rogers, the man behind the mask, was apparently recently shot and killed by a sniper. They couldn't let him hang up the shield (one last time) or go out fighting a la Superman vs Doomsday; The writers had to kill him off from a distance, which admittedly is how I'd prefer to fight Captain America because the man is...was a highly proficient martial artist.
I wonder how this decision will affect the movie. Long time Captain America fans may protest the death of their hero and let their bums do the walking by not seeing it. I was excited to see a remake was finally in the works, but most likely I'll put this one on the Netflix list and if I like it, I'll buy the DVD. Then again, JE will be 8-years old in 2009, so if he seems interested I might take him to see it.
Given the recent popularity of comic movies I'm surprised this didn't happen sooner, but apparently a new Captain America movie is in the works. Blade was awesome and Spiderman was a resounding success, but the Famous Four wasn't that hot and I don't think Ghostrider did too well, either. I really hope they don't fuck up Captain America.
It's bad enough that Steve Rogers, the man behind the mask, was apparently recently shot and killed by a sniper. They couldn't let him hang up the shield (one last time) or go out fighting a la Superman vs Doomsday; The writers had to kill him off from a distance, which admittedly is how I'd prefer to fight Captain America because the man is...was a highly proficient martial artist.
I wonder how this decision will affect the movie. Long time Captain America fans may protest the death of their hero and let their bums do the walking by not seeing it. I was excited to see a remake was finally in the works, but most likely I'll put this one on the Netflix list and if I like it, I'll buy the DVD. Then again, JE will be 8-years old in 2009, so if he seems interested I might take him to see it.
Friday, March 16, 2007
Another "irrelevant unless you WoW" post
Wolfgangdoom (Shout Out!) posted a comment to my Ashamed of WoW entry where he mentioned something that got my creative juices flowing...that's not as dirty as it sounds :D
Wolfgang compared us gamers talking WoW at work to fellow coworkers talking about their sports team and dissecting their team's weekend performance as if they were the managers, when really they're nothing more than a fan who spent $60 on a jersey, with, as Wolf stated, "someone else's name on it."
In WoW (and most likely other MMORPGs) most players belong to a Guild, and most Guilds have a Tabard. The neat thing about WoW's Tabard is if you change Guilds and the new Guild has a Tabard, the Coat of Arms on your Tabard changes to match that of your new Guild. You don't need to buy a new Tabard, and you don't have to worry about looking out of place when your Guild goes on a run because you're automatically wearing the correct colors.
Most Tabards, WoW's Tabards in particular, are throwbacks to days gone by and so look like what you'd expect to see on Athos, Porthos, or Aramis. On a fanatasy hero that's completely acceptable garb, but perhaps a little less so in today's times. However, there's literally no reason why a Tabard could not be cut in a more modern, stylish fashion that wouldn't have people pointing and laughing, after all, a stylish Tabard with a coat of arms on the front could very well pass for a sports team's jersey. And that's what got me thinking, although this idea will go no further (for me, at least) than this Blog.
What if you could buy a modern, stylish looking Tabard with your Guild's Coat of Arms on front? And instead of someone else's name on the back (ok, it's sort of someone else's name), you'd have the name of your Main Character, along with the very distinguished (in WoW at least) #14. As I said, irrelevant to anyone who doesn't play WoW, and even if you do WoW you may not get the significance of #14 ;)
While the number of WoW subscribers is allegedly 8,000,000+ (@ $15/month that's $120,000,000 Blizzard earns every month, or $1.44 billion ((if you're an American)) in a year...from just one of the games in their stable) the market for Guild Tabards would be considerably less than that number, drastically less. I could see Tabards being bought by a group of close, RL friends, or perhaps by a Guild that has a BBQ/Get-together of some kind with members flying in from all over the country that want to be able to ID each other. But I really don't see a huge demand for them, so it's not something I'd pursue even if I had the necessary resources. Besides which, Blizzard already sell t-shirts, sweaters and jackets with the Alliance and Horde Coat of Arms on them, so most of the Tabard market is probably already tapped out.
But it's an interesting idea, if you WoW ;)
Wolfgang compared us gamers talking WoW at work to fellow coworkers talking about their sports team and dissecting their team's weekend performance as if they were the managers, when really they're nothing more than a fan who spent $60 on a jersey, with, as Wolf stated, "someone else's name on it."
In WoW (and most likely other MMORPGs) most players belong to a Guild, and most Guilds have a Tabard. The neat thing about WoW's Tabard is if you change Guilds and the new Guild has a Tabard, the Coat of Arms on your Tabard changes to match that of your new Guild. You don't need to buy a new Tabard, and you don't have to worry about looking out of place when your Guild goes on a run because you're automatically wearing the correct colors.
Most Tabards, WoW's Tabards in particular, are throwbacks to days gone by and so look like what you'd expect to see on Athos, Porthos, or Aramis. On a fanatasy hero that's completely acceptable garb, but perhaps a little less so in today's times. However, there's literally no reason why a Tabard could not be cut in a more modern, stylish fashion that wouldn't have people pointing and laughing, after all, a stylish Tabard with a coat of arms on the front could very well pass for a sports team's jersey. And that's what got me thinking, although this idea will go no further (for me, at least) than this Blog.
What if you could buy a modern, stylish looking Tabard with your Guild's Coat of Arms on front? And instead of someone else's name on the back (ok, it's sort of someone else's name), you'd have the name of your Main Character, along with the very distinguished (in WoW at least) #14. As I said, irrelevant to anyone who doesn't play WoW, and even if you do WoW you may not get the significance of #14 ;)
While the number of WoW subscribers is allegedly 8,000,000+ (@ $15/month that's $120,000,000 Blizzard earns every month, or $1.44 billion ((if you're an American)) in a year...from just one of the games in their stable) the market for Guild Tabards would be considerably less than that number, drastically less. I could see Tabards being bought by a group of close, RL friends, or perhaps by a Guild that has a BBQ/Get-together of some kind with members flying in from all over the country that want to be able to ID each other. But I really don't see a huge demand for them, so it's not something I'd pursue even if I had the necessary resources. Besides which, Blizzard already sell t-shirts, sweaters and jackets with the Alliance and Horde Coat of Arms on them, so most of the Tabard market is probably already tapped out.
But it's an interesting idea, if you WoW ;)
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Fo' shizzle ma drizzle!
Big Shout Out to Mike250 for hooking me up with Gizoogle, which I promptly used on my last Blog entry. So without any further ado, here's how my Blog would have looked if it had been written by the one and only Snoop Dogg.
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Can Blogg'n makes you a bitch writa�?
First of all you have ta want ta be a conscientious playa n not just throw drug deala a bizzay of words, pictures n Youtube clips n call it a bizzy n shit. Thizzay you have ta watch yo spell'n n use punctuation correctly. Finally, like a good essay, yo blizzog entry should have an introduction, a body, n a conclusion.The title of yo bizzle entry could almost be considered an introduction, albeit an extremely brief one; Realistically though it's nuttin' more tizzle tha topic you're going ta discuss hittin that booty. Yo introduction will be in tha fizzirst paragraph, n if you want ta gizzy tha motherfucka attention n hold it you need a good introduction. Although even tha bizzle introduction in tha world won't hold tha attention of somebody who's not interested in read'n tha topic `bout which you've chosen ta blog . Hollaz to the East Side. Thiznat doesn't mizzle you should shape yo blog ta attract nigga frizzom all walks of life like old skool shit. If you're blogg'n `bout thermonizzles technology coz it's tha field in whizzich you wizzy n you find it fascinat'n, bizzy `bout it. You'll attract like-minded gangsta (and tha occasional anonymous poser who calls you all geeks) n you'll enjoy tha discussions tizzle evolve. Thiznat wizzy makes you want ta continue ridin' n tha more you write tha playa you will get.
Basically you should strive ta ensure T-H-to-tha-izzat you have some semblance of an introduction, even a brief one, which introduces yo topic or helps ta griznab tha reada attention. The body of yo blizzay can be as shizzort as jizzle one paragraph, or run on fo` several (or many) if tha topic of choice warrants a lengthy discussion so sit back relax new jacks get smacked. Finally yo conclusion wizzay summarize yo topic n let yo crazy ass nigga kizzy thizzay they've reached tha end of that particizzles post . Drop it like its hot. Follow'n these simple rules wizzay makes you a betta writa, biznoth as a wanna be gangsta n in real life fo my bling bling.
Monday, March 12, 2007
Can Blogging make you a better writer?
First of all you have to want to be a conscientious writer, and not just throw together a bunch of words, pictures and Youtube clips and call it a blog. Then you have to watch your spelling and use punctuation correctly. Finally, like a good essay, your blog entry should have an introduction, a body, and a conclusion.
The title of your blog entry could almost be considered an introduction, albeit an extremely brief one; Realistically though it's nothing more than the topic you're going to discuss. Your introduction will be in the first paragraph, and if you want to grab the reader's attention and hold it you need a good introduction. Although even the best introduction in the world won't hold the attention of somebody who's not interested in reading the topic about which you've chosen to blog. That doesn't mean you should shape your blog to attract readers from all walks of life. If you're blogging about thermonuclear technology because it's the field in which you work and you find it fascinating, blog about it. You'll attract like-minded readers (and the occasional anonymous poster who calls you all geeks) and you'll enjoy the discussions that evolve. That will make you want to continue writing, and the more you write the better you will get.
Basically you should strive to ensure that you have some semblance of an introduction, even a brief one, which introduces your topic or helps to grab the readers attention. The body of your blog can be as short as just one paragraph, or run on for several (or many) if the topic of choice warrants a lengthy discussion. Finally your conclusion will summarize your topic and let your readers know that they've reached the end of that particular post. Following these simple rules will make you a better writer, both as a blogger and in real life.
Thursday, March 08, 2007
Shaving, and learning to live again
I prefer to shave with a blade, but during the week I can't shave in the morning unless I want to get to work late (getting up even earlier is not an option ;), so I either shave in the evening or I use my electric razor at work when I get in.
Now I don't care what Mr. Kiam promised you, no electric razor can shave as close as a blade, and I much prefer a blade shave to an electric razor shave. I'm thinking I should bring a blade to work though, because while I was halfway through my shave this morning I thought "What if the power in the building went out now?" And the answer is I'd be there with half my face still covered in stubble.
Way back in High School one of my classmates accepted a bet from a friend to not shave for a month, and by the end of that month he pretty much had a full beard. I've known a few people like that, who could shave in the morning and by the evening look like they hadn't shaved at all that day. One guy I worked with would occasionally shave off his very full mustache at the start of the week and by the end of the week would have a full mustache again. So my classmate didn't shave for a month, but when it came time to pay up his friend offered to double the bet if my classmate would shave off half his beard and leave it like that for a week. I think that might have been his cunning plan all along, but he needed my classmate to have a full beard to pull it off. I think the wager was $50, doubled to $100, which was a lot of money to a 16 year old in the mid '80s, so my classmate accepted and for the rest of the week he wore half a beard.
I'd rather not have half a beard at work, even for a day, so I think I'll bring a blade razor in to work, just in case. Maybe I'll shave with it, too, instead of the electric. Because I normally use a blade my face doesn't like the electric razor, so it feels all hot and itchy for a while, even after using an Aftershave Moisturizing Balm
"A balm? Quick, throw it in the trough!" Obscure Monty Python Reference :)
- - -
So I've been feeling rather melancholy as of late. That's usually what happens when my old life resurfaces and reminds me of what I left behind. When my Uncle said he'd told my Dad about JE (3 years ago when he last visited Australia), Dad had said it wasn't fair, meaning we were over here and he was there, and he rarely got to see me or my son (in fact only once in 2001). My Uncle agreed but reminded Dad of his own situation. My Uncle lives in Cleveland with his youngest of two daughters. His older daughter lives in Melbourne, Australia, and has five children. My Uncle has never seen three of his own grandchildren.
That's one of the things that tears me up over my Dad, how he never got to see my daughter. Sure he saw her pictures but he never got to see her or hold her. And it's not fair, but sometimes that's just the way life is. And this is something I really need to come to terms with, before I can get over my father's death. Nine years ago I made the choice to leave my old family behind, move 10,000 miles away, and start a new life with my wife and her family. I didn't have to make that choice, but in a way, I also feel like I had no choice; it was just something I had to do, because living the rest of my life without Liz was not an option. I also still need to come to terms with that as well. Yes, nine years later I still have not fully accepted that decision, but I'm here now, I'm here to stay, and that's not going to change, so I need to accept it.
It only occurred to me later that talking to my Uncle was like preaching to the choir. Everything I'm going through, he's already done. He also left his two teenage daughters behind and moved to another country to be with his new wife, although his younger daughter later followed him. I told my Uncle that Liz and I sometimes talked of retiring to Australia, but I really can't see that happening. How can you move to another country and leave your children and grandchildren behind? I said to my Uncle. Well, he never sees his grandchildren (his younger daughter doesn't have kids) because they live in another country. The only way we'll retire to Australia is when JE and Amber get older if they say they want to go live in Australia, and we'll follow them.
I'm writing this down here because while my Blog is accessible to the general public, I don't always write for you; I sometimes write for me. Putting my thoughts down in writing helps me get them straightened out. This is a decision making process I use, because with everything written down I can clearly see what my choices are and the benefits from each choice, and more often than not I'll know what I plan to do before I even finish writing.
In putting something down in writing it also helps me come to terms with the situation, because I'm forced to confront it. There's no ignoring it, no pretending the problem doesn't exist. It's here, it's real, and I must deal with it because it's not going away until I confront it.
The first time I wrote this I teared up writing about my father never getting the chance to hold my daughter. That still makes me sad, writing this now, but after rereading what I wrote I'm more at peace with it. I've begun to accept it. I miss my Dad, a lot. I will always miss him. I also still miss Jonno, my best friend who died over 15 years ago at the too young age of 19. But I long ago came to terms with Jonno's death, although visiting his grave would still bring me to tears. That's only human, to mourn the ones we love. And it's human to move through your grief, then beyond it, and accept the death of your loved ones and resume living your own life. It's not long ago that my father died, only two years ago in fact, almost to the day. It took me quite some time to get over Jonno's death, or rather, learn how to live my life without my best friend there by my side. While I've been living the last nine years of my life without any of my family here, they've always been no more than a phone call away. Everyone is still just a phone call away, except for my Dad. Had to pause there to regain my composure. I really shouldn't be writing this at work but I just feel I need to get it out now, right this minute. It's like I'm at a pivotal stage of my grief, and getting this down right now is going to help me tremendously.
I honestly don't think I'll ever "get over" my Dad's death, instead I'll learn how to live my life without him. This is like the decision I made (and didn't make) nine years ago. I will learn how to live my life without my father, because the alternative is not an option.
Now I don't care what Mr. Kiam promised you, no electric razor can shave as close as a blade, and I much prefer a blade shave to an electric razor shave. I'm thinking I should bring a blade to work though, because while I was halfway through my shave this morning I thought "What if the power in the building went out now?" And the answer is I'd be there with half my face still covered in stubble.
Way back in High School one of my classmates accepted a bet from a friend to not shave for a month, and by the end of that month he pretty much had a full beard. I've known a few people like that, who could shave in the morning and by the evening look like they hadn't shaved at all that day. One guy I worked with would occasionally shave off his very full mustache at the start of the week and by the end of the week would have a full mustache again. So my classmate didn't shave for a month, but when it came time to pay up his friend offered to double the bet if my classmate would shave off half his beard and leave it like that for a week. I think that might have been his cunning plan all along, but he needed my classmate to have a full beard to pull it off. I think the wager was $50, doubled to $100, which was a lot of money to a 16 year old in the mid '80s, so my classmate accepted and for the rest of the week he wore half a beard.
I'd rather not have half a beard at work, even for a day, so I think I'll bring a blade razor in to work, just in case. Maybe I'll shave with it, too, instead of the electric. Because I normally use a blade my face doesn't like the electric razor, so it feels all hot and itchy for a while, even after using an Aftershave Moisturizing Balm
"A balm? Quick, throw it in the trough!" Obscure Monty Python Reference :)
- - -
So I've been feeling rather melancholy as of late. That's usually what happens when my old life resurfaces and reminds me of what I left behind. When my Uncle said he'd told my Dad about JE (3 years ago when he last visited Australia), Dad had said it wasn't fair, meaning we were over here and he was there, and he rarely got to see me or my son (in fact only once in 2001). My Uncle agreed but reminded Dad of his own situation. My Uncle lives in Cleveland with his youngest of two daughters. His older daughter lives in Melbourne, Australia, and has five children. My Uncle has never seen three of his own grandchildren.
That's one of the things that tears me up over my Dad, how he never got to see my daughter. Sure he saw her pictures but he never got to see her or hold her. And it's not fair, but sometimes that's just the way life is. And this is something I really need to come to terms with, before I can get over my father's death. Nine years ago I made the choice to leave my old family behind, move 10,000 miles away, and start a new life with my wife and her family. I didn't have to make that choice, but in a way, I also feel like I had no choice; it was just something I had to do, because living the rest of my life without Liz was not an option. I also still need to come to terms with that as well. Yes, nine years later I still have not fully accepted that decision, but I'm here now, I'm here to stay, and that's not going to change, so I need to accept it.
It only occurred to me later that talking to my Uncle was like preaching to the choir. Everything I'm going through, he's already done. He also left his two teenage daughters behind and moved to another country to be with his new wife, although his younger daughter later followed him. I told my Uncle that Liz and I sometimes talked of retiring to Australia, but I really can't see that happening. How can you move to another country and leave your children and grandchildren behind? I said to my Uncle. Well, he never sees his grandchildren (his younger daughter doesn't have kids) because they live in another country. The only way we'll retire to Australia is when JE and Amber get older if they say they want to go live in Australia, and we'll follow them.
I'm writing this down here because while my Blog is accessible to the general public, I don't always write for you; I sometimes write for me. Putting my thoughts down in writing helps me get them straightened out. This is a decision making process I use, because with everything written down I can clearly see what my choices are and the benefits from each choice, and more often than not I'll know what I plan to do before I even finish writing.
In putting something down in writing it also helps me come to terms with the situation, because I'm forced to confront it. There's no ignoring it, no pretending the problem doesn't exist. It's here, it's real, and I must deal with it because it's not going away until I confront it.
The first time I wrote this I teared up writing about my father never getting the chance to hold my daughter. That still makes me sad, writing this now, but after rereading what I wrote I'm more at peace with it. I've begun to accept it. I miss my Dad, a lot. I will always miss him. I also still miss Jonno, my best friend who died over 15 years ago at the too young age of 19. But I long ago came to terms with Jonno's death, although visiting his grave would still bring me to tears. That's only human, to mourn the ones we love. And it's human to move through your grief, then beyond it, and accept the death of your loved ones and resume living your own life. It's not long ago that my father died, only two years ago in fact, almost to the day. It took me quite some time to get over Jonno's death, or rather, learn how to live my life without my best friend there by my side. While I've been living the last nine years of my life without any of my family here, they've always been no more than a phone call away. Everyone is still just a phone call away, except for my Dad. Had to pause there to regain my composure. I really shouldn't be writing this at work but I just feel I need to get it out now, right this minute. It's like I'm at a pivotal stage of my grief, and getting this down right now is going to help me tremendously.
I honestly don't think I'll ever "get over" my Dad's death, instead I'll learn how to live my life without him. This is like the decision I made (and didn't make) nine years ago. I will learn how to live my life without my father, because the alternative is not an option.
Monday, March 05, 2007
The weekend in review
Friday morning was Liz's first big day out, other than post-op check-ups. First we dropped JE at school then it was off to LAX to pick up my Uncle and his wife...I guess even though she's his second wife she's still my Aunty, she just doesn't like us calling her Aunty, so it's usually Uncle Peter and Pat.
Due to their flight leaving Tullamarine late we were actually pretty much right on time to pick them up, even though we were late getting there, too. As I swung around the corner passed Tom Bradley in the left lane, heading for the parking lot, Liz looked over at Terminal 4 and said "Isn't that them?"
One glance to my right was all I needed and I did a blockie around the parking structure, cut a couple of other cars off and was shortly pulling up in front of my father's youngest brother.
The 15-hour flight was taking its toll upon Uncle Peter and Pat, but they were determined to tough it out and get back on US schedule, so after lunch I suggested a game of cards. Cribbage was Uncle Peter's game of choice, so I hunted down our Cribbage board and a full deck of cards and we played the afternoon away. Pat, who'd been teasing Uncle Peter about him nodding off, decided to rest her eyes a bit on the sofa and she was soon snoring away and talking in her sleep. JE came down and wanted to play, so with the first game finished we dealt him in (it was a 3-player board) and with us helping him (and me not making 15 pts when I could have) JE won the very first game of Cribbage he's ever played. But the waterworks I was avoiding by letting JE win still appeared when he said he wanted to play something else, and Uncle Peter and I said we were going to play some more Cribbage. They shut off pretty quick though, and we shortly heard him pottering about upstairs with some game or another.
Saturday morning we were all up pretty early. JE and I took Uncle Peter and Pat back out to LAX then raced off to his first T-ball game. On the 105, close to the 605, the gas light came on, but I figured we had enough to get us to JE's school where I thought his first game was. Little did I know that the route I was taking to get us there took us within two blocks of the actual location of his game, and that we would have been on time if I'd double checked the location before leaving.
We arrived at the school, got JE's cleats on, raced down to the baseball field to find the Dodgers and the Red Socks warming up for their game...not the Blue Jays. Oh boy. Time to get gas and find out where we needed to be. So ignoring a popular Urban Legend, while pumping gas I was on my cell phone finding out where we needed to be and how to get there.
We arrived just in time for JE to take his turn at bat (I think we missed the 1st Innings) and the game was on. I also scored a Blue Jays cap of my own (courtesy of the league), and with my new cap and navy blue t-shirt I pretty much looked the part of an Assistant Coach. The game was a lot of fun, some of the kids showed a lot of promise, one of the Angels (opposing team) made a catch but promptly dropped it, and every kid got to bat once during each Innings and run round the bases, even if they got run out, or struck out. How does one get struck out in T-ball? Simple, really. Swing and hit the tee three times, or not hit the ball further than 25 feet, and you're Out. But with this being a Just For Fun League there were no Outs. Highlight of the game was definitely one of our boys hitting the ball over everyone's heads and into the outfield. Highlight of the game for the kids was getting a Snackbar ticket after the game, entitling everyone to some candy and a soda.
After dropping JE with the in-laws the rest of the weekend was pretty uneventful, and by Monday Liz was feeling good enough that 5am saw me getting up and getting ready to return to work.
Due to their flight leaving Tullamarine late we were actually pretty much right on time to pick them up, even though we were late getting there, too. As I swung around the corner passed Tom Bradley in the left lane, heading for the parking lot, Liz looked over at Terminal 4 and said "Isn't that them?"
One glance to my right was all I needed and I did a blockie around the parking structure, cut a couple of other cars off and was shortly pulling up in front of my father's youngest brother.
The 15-hour flight was taking its toll upon Uncle Peter and Pat, but they were determined to tough it out and get back on US schedule, so after lunch I suggested a game of cards. Cribbage was Uncle Peter's game of choice, so I hunted down our Cribbage board and a full deck of cards and we played the afternoon away. Pat, who'd been teasing Uncle Peter about him nodding off, decided to rest her eyes a bit on the sofa and she was soon snoring away and talking in her sleep. JE came down and wanted to play, so with the first game finished we dealt him in (it was a 3-player board) and with us helping him (and me not making 15 pts when I could have) JE won the very first game of Cribbage he's ever played. But the waterworks I was avoiding by letting JE win still appeared when he said he wanted to play something else, and Uncle Peter and I said we were going to play some more Cribbage. They shut off pretty quick though, and we shortly heard him pottering about upstairs with some game or another.
Saturday morning we were all up pretty early. JE and I took Uncle Peter and Pat back out to LAX then raced off to his first T-ball game. On the 105, close to the 605, the gas light came on, but I figured we had enough to get us to JE's school where I thought his first game was. Little did I know that the route I was taking to get us there took us within two blocks of the actual location of his game, and that we would have been on time if I'd double checked the location before leaving.
We arrived at the school, got JE's cleats on, raced down to the baseball field to find the Dodgers and the Red Socks warming up for their game...not the Blue Jays. Oh boy. Time to get gas and find out where we needed to be. So ignoring a popular Urban Legend, while pumping gas I was on my cell phone finding out where we needed to be and how to get there.
We arrived just in time for JE to take his turn at bat (I think we missed the 1st Innings) and the game was on. I also scored a Blue Jays cap of my own (courtesy of the league), and with my new cap and navy blue t-shirt I pretty much looked the part of an Assistant Coach. The game was a lot of fun, some of the kids showed a lot of promise, one of the Angels (opposing team) made a catch but promptly dropped it, and every kid got to bat once during each Innings and run round the bases, even if they got run out, or struck out. How does one get struck out in T-ball? Simple, really. Swing and hit the tee three times, or not hit the ball further than 25 feet, and you're Out. But with this being a Just For Fun League there were no Outs. Highlight of the game was definitely one of our boys hitting the ball over everyone's heads and into the outfield. Highlight of the game for the kids was getting a Snackbar ticket after the game, entitling everyone to some candy and a soda.
After dropping JE with the in-laws the rest of the weekend was pretty uneventful, and by Monday Liz was feeling good enough that 5am saw me getting up and getting ready to return to work.
Thursday, March 01, 2007
T-Ball, week 2
Today was the first day of what is promising to be a very hectic weekend, if your weekend started on a Thursday, which mine doesn't, but sort of did, but let's skip the semantics coz it's not important.
This week has been 1/2 day week at JE's school, so he got off school today at 12:25pm. I picked him up, we grabbed some food at the local Chinese Food Court and headed home. At 3:30pm we tootled off to T-Ball practice and arrived right on time on account of someone choosing to have an accident 2 blocks from the field, which required the presence of a large Fire Truck with flashing lights, which meant the rush hour traffic felt compelled to slow right down and rubber-neck as they drove past.
We arrived at T-Ball practice in time to field some hits from Coach Jesse, then it was warm-up and stretch time, and I'm glad we did that, because then we split into two groups. One group hit the outfield and practiced catching, while Coach Jesse's group stayed in the diamond (along with yours truly) and practiced batting.
Now some of the kids were typical 6-year olders and I pretty much ran around between the pitcher's plate and home plate fielding little flubs of hits, but some of the other kids were batting machines. These kids had me running into the outfield as they belted balls all over the place. And it wasn't a fluke. For some of the kids a big hit was, but two or three of our kids can hit the ball, and I mean HIT it, consistently. One of the kids belted line drive after line drive and I barely had to move a step as he hit the ball straight to me time after time. Remember I said I was glad we warmed up earlier? I'm sitting here typing this and I feel like I'm 5 years younger, like when I still used to play football because my legs are SORE! I weighed myself after my shower and the scales tried to tell me I'm 191.8 lbs. I'm not sure whether or not to believe them because that's getting darn close to my High School weight again. But I'm glad I'm not still carrying around those extra 15 lbs I've somehow lost over the last few weeks or I'd probably be even more sore.
Practice ran for 1 1/2 hours (including a mini-game) so we raced home, stopping for food on the way, ate, changed, then headed back out to our Boy Scout meeting, dropping A. with the in-laws on the way. Around 8:30pm we were finally back home again but I still couldn't sit down and relax. After a shower I got JE into bed, read him a story, then had to change the sheets on his bed because my Uncle is staying with us tomorrow night before flying on to Cleveland so we're putting him in JE's bed (a Queen) while JE is sleeping in A.'s bed, A. is staying with the in-laws for the next 2 nights. Saturday morning I have to get up early to take my Uncle back to LAX then JE and I have to race back to Arcadia for our very first T-Ball game at 9am. After that I might be able to relax, maybe :P
For some reason I was thinking this evening about what my life would be like if I hadn't met Liz, and the chain of events would quite possibly have been something like this:
Lived with parents from '98 to '05 until Dad passed away. Continued to live with Mum keeping her company until '06 when she met her new man. Bought Mum's house off her in '07 when she remarried and moved out, then lived in the house I grew up in for the rest of my life, all alone, coz everyone left but me. Strangely, real life is almost exactly the opposite. Little sis and her husband currently live next door to Mum, or they will until Mum moves out later this year, when she remarries and moves in with her new husband. Older sis initially bought a house around the corner and later moved to Melbourne. Me, I met a girl and moved halfway around the world.
Life is strange, sometimes.
This week has been 1/2 day week at JE's school, so he got off school today at 12:25pm. I picked him up, we grabbed some food at the local Chinese Food Court and headed home. At 3:30pm we tootled off to T-Ball practice and arrived right on time on account of someone choosing to have an accident 2 blocks from the field, which required the presence of a large Fire Truck with flashing lights, which meant the rush hour traffic felt compelled to slow right down and rubber-neck as they drove past.
We arrived at T-Ball practice in time to field some hits from Coach Jesse, then it was warm-up and stretch time, and I'm glad we did that, because then we split into two groups. One group hit the outfield and practiced catching, while Coach Jesse's group stayed in the diamond (along with yours truly) and practiced batting.
Now some of the kids were typical 6-year olders and I pretty much ran around between the pitcher's plate and home plate fielding little flubs of hits, but some of the other kids were batting machines. These kids had me running into the outfield as they belted balls all over the place. And it wasn't a fluke. For some of the kids a big hit was, but two or three of our kids can hit the ball, and I mean HIT it, consistently. One of the kids belted line drive after line drive and I barely had to move a step as he hit the ball straight to me time after time. Remember I said I was glad we warmed up earlier? I'm sitting here typing this and I feel like I'm 5 years younger, like when I still used to play football because my legs are SORE! I weighed myself after my shower and the scales tried to tell me I'm 191.8 lbs. I'm not sure whether or not to believe them because that's getting darn close to my High School weight again. But I'm glad I'm not still carrying around those extra 15 lbs I've somehow lost over the last few weeks or I'd probably be even more sore.
Practice ran for 1 1/2 hours (including a mini-game) so we raced home, stopping for food on the way, ate, changed, then headed back out to our Boy Scout meeting, dropping A. with the in-laws on the way. Around 8:30pm we were finally back home again but I still couldn't sit down and relax. After a shower I got JE into bed, read him a story, then had to change the sheets on his bed because my Uncle is staying with us tomorrow night before flying on to Cleveland so we're putting him in JE's bed (a Queen) while JE is sleeping in A.'s bed, A. is staying with the in-laws for the next 2 nights. Saturday morning I have to get up early to take my Uncle back to LAX then JE and I have to race back to Arcadia for our very first T-Ball game at 9am. After that I might be able to relax, maybe :P
For some reason I was thinking this evening about what my life would be like if I hadn't met Liz, and the chain of events would quite possibly have been something like this:
Lived with parents from '98 to '05 until Dad passed away. Continued to live with Mum keeping her company until '06 when she met her new man. Bought Mum's house off her in '07 when she remarried and moved out, then lived in the house I grew up in for the rest of my life, all alone, coz everyone left but me. Strangely, real life is almost exactly the opposite. Little sis and her husband currently live next door to Mum, or they will until Mum moves out later this year, when she remarries and moves in with her new husband. Older sis initially bought a house around the corner and later moved to Melbourne. Me, I met a girl and moved halfway around the world.
Life is strange, sometimes.
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