As I was approaching my bus stop this afternoon I saw an elderly gentleman coming the other way. When he saw the next bus approaching he began running towards the bus stop, waving his arms. Being already at the bus stop myself I began waving at the bus too. I also attempted to make eye contact with the driver but he looked away from me in a blatant "I don't see you there, waving your arms, so I don't have to stop for you" kind of way, despite the fact that this stop was one of his scheduled stops and he darn well should have stopped.
The bus roared passed me as the elderly man approached, then he said "7756. It's ok, thank you. 7756."
Er...ok.
We chatted for a bit and I noticed his ID badge on his shirt was a Metro ID badge. Metro just happens to be the agency that owns the bus and pays the driver who drove passed us.
The gentleman waved at the next bus that came along and this one stopped for him. "7756," he said to me, "have a good evening," and he waved as he boarded the bus. I looked at him curiously as he stepped through the doorway and heard him say once more, "7756." Then I noticed above this bus's door a 4-digit number. Not 7756, but within that vicinity.
The gentleman had taken note of the earlier bus's number and was repeating it to himself to ensure he remembered it. Darned if I haven't remembered it, too.
Quite a few times I've filed a complaint on the Metro website about Bus Drivers failing to stop for me. Not once have I even got so much as an Auto-Response to my complaints. I had a feeling that when this particular gentleman filed a complaint about the driver of Metro Bus No 7756 that someone was going to listen to him.
Karma can be a real bitch sometimes :D
Thursday, July 05, 2007
Wednesday, July 04, 2007
Happy 4th of July
This morning Liz & her Mom, and JE & I headed out to the Ontario Mall. While the women were shopping JE and I caught the Transformers movie. It was actually pretty good, for a movie based on a 20-year old animated TV show. Amusingly my last post was relevant to a tiny portion of the movie when the power of the All Spark (a cube that turns tech into transformers) was demonstrated on a cell phone. The guy doing the demonstration looks at the phone and comments that the Japanese are geniuses. Another character then says, aside, to her boss, "Nokia (No-KEY-Uh) are from Finland." Her Boss holds his finger up to his mouth in a "Shh, don't embarrass him" kind of way.
We were barely home from the mall and the movie when it was time for JE and I had to head back out again to Dodger Stadium. When we'd tried to buy tickets for this game a couple of weeks ago the "cheap seats" were all sold out and we ended up buying seats alongside the Left Foul Line, but three tiers up. Here's a picture of our view of the field, courtesy of my Razr V3xx:
We're actually closer than what it looks like.
It still would have been an exceptional Foul Ball that made it up to us, but not knowing quite how far up we were JE and I took our gloves anyway. The Dodgers lost but it came down to the wire, and at the bottom of the 9th the Dodgers needed 3 Runs for the tie and had 2 runners on base, with 2 outs. But it wasn't meant to be and their "last chance" struck out.
Interesting to note is that the Dodgers' Short Stop, Rafael Furcal, started his career with the Braves and played with them until 2005. In case you didn't know, the team the Dodgers played tonight was the Braves. When I saw that on the big screen everything came together because the Dodgers player I'd seen walk up to the Braves runner on 2nd and give him a "What's happening, Homie?" handshake and have a moment during a mid-innings downtime was none other than Rafael Furcal.
At the bottom of the ninth the Dodgers' hitter who struck out with two runners on base was not Rafael Furcal. But it was Rafael who struck out with the bases loaded at the bottom of the second, ending the innings. A Home Run, or even just a Hit, would have given the Dodgers another Run or two (or four) and could have made a world of difference at the end of the night. Rafael avoided any further dishonor by making it to first base at the bottom of the ninth where he watched Olmedo Saenz strike out to end the game. Of course he can't win, either way. If he'd struck out to lose the game against his former team I'd have said he threw the game, especially in light of his "What's happening, Homie?" gesture towards the Braves' runner. And of course he didn't strike out but made it to first base; the Braves didn't want the Dodgers to suspect Rafael was not 100% loyal to them and that he'd thrown the game earlier by striking out with the Bases Loaded.
A C-17 flyover had been arranged prior to the game and here's a picture:
Did I mention there were fireworks at the end of the game? JE and I braved the stairs and just made it down to the field when the lights went out. Yup, we were allowed to take the field to watch the fireworks, which was something JE was looking forward to. Actually that's two things he was looking forward to, being on the field and watching the fireworks. Here's a short clip of the Fireworks, again courtesy of my Razr.
When we finally made it back to our car (I'm sure we emerged from the stadium on the complete opposite side to our car) I abandoned my plan of just sitting and waiting for most of the traffic to clear and rolled out to try my luck with all the SUVs Angelenos feel compelled to own. We actually made it out fairly quickly, considering how disorganized the parking lot is. But we wound up in the wrong lane and got routed off Stadium Way by the helpful traffic police, who further down the road again routed us away from the 110S entrance. I guess they figured if we were all going that particular way we needed the 110N, the entrance of which we passed shortly afterwards. After passing over the 110 we ended up in Chinatown and I knew exactly where to go to get onto the I-10, which is the Freeway I really needed (the 110S would have taken me straight to the I-10 as well).
Playing his DS I thought JE was going to hang on until we got home but a glance in my kiddy mirror a little while later showed JE fast asleep. He'd had a nap in the car on the way to Dodger Stadium but it was just a short one, and this time he was out for the count.
We were barely home from the mall and the movie when it was time for JE and I had to head back out again to Dodger Stadium. When we'd tried to buy tickets for this game a couple of weeks ago the "cheap seats" were all sold out and we ended up buying seats alongside the Left Foul Line, but three tiers up. Here's a picture of our view of the field, courtesy of my Razr V3xx:
We're actually closer than what it looks like.
It still would have been an exceptional Foul Ball that made it up to us, but not knowing quite how far up we were JE and I took our gloves anyway. The Dodgers lost but it came down to the wire, and at the bottom of the 9th the Dodgers needed 3 Runs for the tie and had 2 runners on base, with 2 outs. But it wasn't meant to be and their "last chance" struck out.
Interesting to note is that the Dodgers' Short Stop, Rafael Furcal, started his career with the Braves and played with them until 2005. In case you didn't know, the team the Dodgers played tonight was the Braves. When I saw that on the big screen everything came together because the Dodgers player I'd seen walk up to the Braves runner on 2nd and give him a "What's happening, Homie?" handshake and have a moment during a mid-innings downtime was none other than Rafael Furcal.
At the bottom of the ninth the Dodgers' hitter who struck out with two runners on base was not Rafael Furcal. But it was Rafael who struck out with the bases loaded at the bottom of the second, ending the innings. A Home Run, or even just a Hit, would have given the Dodgers another Run or two (or four) and could have made a world of difference at the end of the night. Rafael avoided any further dishonor by making it to first base at the bottom of the ninth where he watched Olmedo Saenz strike out to end the game. Of course he can't win, either way. If he'd struck out to lose the game against his former team I'd have said he threw the game, especially in light of his "What's happening, Homie?" gesture towards the Braves' runner. And of course he didn't strike out but made it to first base; the Braves didn't want the Dodgers to suspect Rafael was not 100% loyal to them and that he'd thrown the game earlier by striking out with the Bases Loaded.
A C-17 flyover had been arranged prior to the game and here's a picture:
Did I mention there were fireworks at the end of the game? JE and I braved the stairs and just made it down to the field when the lights went out. Yup, we were allowed to take the field to watch the fireworks, which was something JE was looking forward to. Actually that's two things he was looking forward to, being on the field and watching the fireworks. Here's a short clip of the Fireworks, again courtesy of my Razr.When we finally made it back to our car (I'm sure we emerged from the stadium on the complete opposite side to our car) I abandoned my plan of just sitting and waiting for most of the traffic to clear and rolled out to try my luck with all the SUVs Angelenos feel compelled to own. We actually made it out fairly quickly, considering how disorganized the parking lot is. But we wound up in the wrong lane and got routed off Stadium Way by the helpful traffic police, who further down the road again routed us away from the 110S entrance. I guess they figured if we were all going that particular way we needed the 110N, the entrance of which we passed shortly afterwards. After passing over the 110 we ended up in Chinatown and I knew exactly where to go to get onto the I-10, which is the Freeway I really needed (the 110S would have taken me straight to the I-10 as well).
Playing his DS I thought JE was going to hang on until we got home but a glance in my kiddy mirror a little while later showed JE fast asleep. He'd had a nap in the car on the way to Dodger Stadium but it was just a short one, and this time he was out for the count.
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Nokia: A mispronunciation
or When the Japanese are really Finnish
I don't know if it's just me, or a misconception held by the general populace, but Nokia is not a Japanese company. Nope, it's not, Nokia is Finnish, as in from Finland.
So if Nokia is not Japanese but Finnish, how do we pronounce Nokia? Is it still No-KEY-Uh? Nope. Uh uh. That's a Japanese pronunciation, but Nokia are not a Japanese company, they're Finnish. The best pronunciation I could find, from a Fin himself, put the emphasis on the NO, not on the KEY. But the Fin didn't elaborate as to whether it's NO-Key-Uh or KNOCK-Ee-Uh. Although he did state that the first syllable is short, like the rest of the word, which makes me think he actually means KNOCK-Ee-Uh. Because the O in Knock is short, whereas the O in No is long.
But when push comes to shove Nokia actually cannot be correctly pronounced in English, or in any language for that matter, but Finnish. You can come close, but unless you know how to speak Finnish or make the correct Finnish sounds, you cannot pronounce Nokia correctly. Until then, the best we have to go with is KNOCK-Ee-Uh.
All this is a moot point, really, because I no longer have a Nokia but a Razor, or MotoRazr as it's correctly known...aah crap, I just have a cell phone. Then again, in Australia or the U.K. I'd actually have a Mobile.
Can't we all just get along???
But all of this brings up an interesting point. What is the "correct" pronunciation of a word? Can you say that the correct pronunciation in the U.S. is No-KEY-Uh if that's how almost every Nokia user pronounces it? And what if that's how it's pronounced in commercials? What if that's how the CEO of Nokia USA pronounces it?
What if, like in the US of A (and many other countries in the world), people from different parts of Finland have slightly different accents, and so the Fins themselves have several different ways of pronouncing Nokia? Does it come down to how the CEO of Nokia Finland says it? Or is it how it's pronounced in commercials in Finland...Finland, Finland. The country where I want to be Pony Trekking or camping.
Aah, let's forget Nokia, Finland, and even obscure Monty Python references, and just listen to some singing horses from Sweden the country that gave us ABBA.
I don't know if it's just me, or a misconception held by the general populace, but Nokia is not a Japanese company. Nope, it's not, Nokia is Finnish, as in from Finland.
So if Nokia is not Japanese but Finnish, how do we pronounce Nokia? Is it still No-KEY-Uh? Nope. Uh uh. That's a Japanese pronunciation, but Nokia are not a Japanese company, they're Finnish. The best pronunciation I could find, from a Fin himself, put the emphasis on the NO, not on the KEY. But the Fin didn't elaborate as to whether it's NO-Key-Uh or KNOCK-Ee-Uh. Although he did state that the first syllable is short, like the rest of the word, which makes me think he actually means KNOCK-Ee-Uh. Because the O in Knock is short, whereas the O in No is long.
But when push comes to shove Nokia actually cannot be correctly pronounced in English, or in any language for that matter, but Finnish. You can come close, but unless you know how to speak Finnish or make the correct Finnish sounds, you cannot pronounce Nokia correctly. Until then, the best we have to go with is KNOCK-Ee-Uh.
All this is a moot point, really, because I no longer have a Nokia but a Razor, or MotoRazr as it's correctly known...aah crap, I just have a cell phone. Then again, in Australia or the U.K. I'd actually have a Mobile.
Can't we all just get along???
But all of this brings up an interesting point. What is the "correct" pronunciation of a word? Can you say that the correct pronunciation in the U.S. is No-KEY-Uh if that's how almost every Nokia user pronounces it? And what if that's how it's pronounced in commercials? What if that's how the CEO of Nokia USA pronounces it?
What if, like in the US of A (and many other countries in the world), people from different parts of Finland have slightly different accents, and so the Fins themselves have several different ways of pronouncing Nokia? Does it come down to how the CEO of Nokia Finland says it? Or is it how it's pronounced in commercials in Finland...Finland, Finland. The country where I want to be Pony Trekking or camping.
Aah, let's forget Nokia, Finland, and even obscure Monty Python references, and just listen to some singing horses from Sweden the country that gave us ABBA.
Monday, July 02, 2007
The weekend in review
As has become customary, our trip down San Diego way this Friday was via Ontario, specifically the Homestyle Cafe on Old Brookside Road in Guasti where we stopped for a late breakfast. Liz and I split a plate of Pork Chops and eggs with breakfast potatoes, biscuits & gravy, and we pretty much managed to finish the plate. JE got the kids breakfast pancake, which was not a kid's pancake but one of their regular pancakes and it was as big as JE's head...bigger even. I helped him out and together we devoured most of it.
We weren't overly impressed with the service this time around, mainly because a large group of bikers were already there so the place was very crowded for a Friday morning. Our waitress seemed to have no clue how to be a waitress, but I'm sure I've seen her working there before. Several times she passed our table, and she'd acknowledge us, but she just kept saying "I'll get to you a minute" or something like that. Finally she stopped but only to ask if we wanted coffee, and as soon as she poured Liz and I a cup each she was off and running again. I didn't get why she couldn't just take our order as several times she brought other people their food then ran passed our table, empty-handed, back to the kitchen area. Of course once we'd finally ordered our food was pretty quick in coming.
The trip down to Carlsbad (Legoland area) was uneventful, which is good, except for the guy who'd run his car headfirst into the concrete divider which backed up traffic for a bit, but finally we'd made it to Legoland. Liz dropped JE and me near the front entrance then went off shopping at the nearby outlet mall. We met up later and after a bit of a drive found this local deli where JE refused to eat anything but chips, I had some roast pork (very tender and tasty), while Liz had prime rib. Afterwards we shared a cup of coffee and a slice of chocolate cake (this is a euopean/german-style deli) before the drive back home.
Saturday morning Liz took JE to the in-laws, picked up our daughter and took her to ballet, then dropped her back at the in-laws before coming home where we spent the next hour or two cleaning up the kids toys in the upstairs hallway, and we did an awesome job of cleaning and getting the place straightened out. We also visited Lowe's where we got two new toilets and Liz picked out the tile to redo the upstairs bathrooms' floors. We also checked out shower stalls and our en suite bathroom will get a total overhaul for well under $1,000, at least in materials; not sure how much the family friend will charge us for labor. The plan is to remove our current tub/shower which takes up 1/3 of the bathroom and replace it with a corner shower stall (half the size), while also having the current linoleum floor replaced with slate/tile. This will really open up our bathroom. The second new toilet will go in the kids' bathroom which will also get a slate/tile floor. I'm hopeful that these new toilets will do a much better job of flushing unmentionables than our current toilets, which tend to do an incomplete job and prompt one to flush a second time...and maybe a third. In light of one my recent posts that's not a very water conscious act.
Sunday we bummed around most of the day before joining the kids at the in-laws where we spent far too long in the pool. Last week almost the entire complex was in the pool, this time we just had 3 families in the water and it was considerably more pleasant. Our daughter is really taking to the water now. We have a vest on her so she can float and bob around and she loves in. At one point she had a nerf ball filled with water and she was squeezing it out on my head. The next thing I knew she was climbing into the pool and sitting on my back. "Look at me!" she'd cry to Liz. This is one of her favorite phrases right now. "Look at me! I'm swimming!"
With the summer evening fast approaching it was starting to get a little cool and we managed to get the kids out of the pool and inside in showers, followed by a yummy dinner prepared by Liz's mom. It's funny how the food her mom prepares is traditional Shanghai-style food, but it's certainly not what most westerners would consider traditional chinese food. That doesn't mean it's not yummy, coz it is :) In fact I offer prefer Liz's mom's food to the same dishes we sometimes order in Shanghai-style restaurants. Mmm-mm good :)
We weren't overly impressed with the service this time around, mainly because a large group of bikers were already there so the place was very crowded for a Friday morning. Our waitress seemed to have no clue how to be a waitress, but I'm sure I've seen her working there before. Several times she passed our table, and she'd acknowledge us, but she just kept saying "I'll get to you a minute" or something like that. Finally she stopped but only to ask if we wanted coffee, and as soon as she poured Liz and I a cup each she was off and running again. I didn't get why she couldn't just take our order as several times she brought other people their food then ran passed our table, empty-handed, back to the kitchen area. Of course once we'd finally ordered our food was pretty quick in coming.
The trip down to Carlsbad (Legoland area) was uneventful, which is good, except for the guy who'd run his car headfirst into the concrete divider which backed up traffic for a bit, but finally we'd made it to Legoland. Liz dropped JE and me near the front entrance then went off shopping at the nearby outlet mall. We met up later and after a bit of a drive found this local deli where JE refused to eat anything but chips, I had some roast pork (very tender and tasty), while Liz had prime rib. Afterwards we shared a cup of coffee and a slice of chocolate cake (this is a euopean/german-style deli) before the drive back home.
Saturday morning Liz took JE to the in-laws, picked up our daughter and took her to ballet, then dropped her back at the in-laws before coming home where we spent the next hour or two cleaning up the kids toys in the upstairs hallway, and we did an awesome job of cleaning and getting the place straightened out. We also visited Lowe's where we got two new toilets and Liz picked out the tile to redo the upstairs bathrooms' floors. We also checked out shower stalls and our en suite bathroom will get a total overhaul for well under $1,000, at least in materials; not sure how much the family friend will charge us for labor. The plan is to remove our current tub/shower which takes up 1/3 of the bathroom and replace it with a corner shower stall (half the size), while also having the current linoleum floor replaced with slate/tile. This will really open up our bathroom. The second new toilet will go in the kids' bathroom which will also get a slate/tile floor. I'm hopeful that these new toilets will do a much better job of flushing unmentionables than our current toilets, which tend to do an incomplete job and prompt one to flush a second time...and maybe a third. In light of one my recent posts that's not a very water conscious act.
Sunday we bummed around most of the day before joining the kids at the in-laws where we spent far too long in the pool. Last week almost the entire complex was in the pool, this time we just had 3 families in the water and it was considerably more pleasant. Our daughter is really taking to the water now. We have a vest on her so she can float and bob around and she loves in. At one point she had a nerf ball filled with water and she was squeezing it out on my head. The next thing I knew she was climbing into the pool and sitting on my back. "Look at me!" she'd cry to Liz. This is one of her favorite phrases right now. "Look at me! I'm swimming!"
With the summer evening fast approaching it was starting to get a little cool and we managed to get the kids out of the pool and inside in showers, followed by a yummy dinner prepared by Liz's mom. It's funny how the food her mom prepares is traditional Shanghai-style food, but it's certainly not what most westerners would consider traditional chinese food. That doesn't mean it's not yummy, coz it is :) In fact I offer prefer Liz's mom's food to the same dishes we sometimes order in Shanghai-style restaurants. Mmm-mm good :)
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Steroids...how effective are they?
or a completely uneducated, uninformed narrative.
What can steroids do? First I'd like to tell you what they can't do. They can't enhance what you don't have. They can't make you a better baseball player unless you're already a good baseball player. They can't make you a Home Run machine unless you already have the skills to hit the ball. Any idiot can swing a bat, but it takes good hand-eye coordination to swing a bat and hit a baseball moving at 95mph; it takes even more skill to not just hit the ball, but hit it where you want it to go. Steroids cannot make you do this if you couldn't hit the ball in the first place.
This may sound like I'm advocating steroid use in sports, particularly baseball, and of course the first baseballer you're going to think of with respect to steroids and being a home run machine is Barry Bonds...or maybe Sammy Sosa. I'm not advocating the use of steroids in sports, and I'm not saying Barry or Sammy used them.
I was all ready to write a scathing article about Barry Bonds and how steroids have perverted the game and how there will always be a dark cloud hanging over Barry's head if/when he breaks Hank Aaron's all-time Home Run record, even though it's never been proven that he used steroids. But as I read about Barry on Wikipedia and checked out his Stats I came to the realization that all steroids could possibly do for Barry was make him stronger. They don't help him hit the 95mph baseball, they only help him hit the ball harder & further.
You may (or may not) be interested to know that while Barry may not (yet) be the All-Time Home Run King, he is still a current Baseball record holder, several times over.
What does all of this say about Barry Bonds and his possible use of Steroids?
It says that with or without steroids (not saying he took them, that would be libel, being the written form of slander) that Barry Bonds is an amazing baseball player. As I said earlier, steroids don't help you hit a baseball, they just help you hit it further. You still need to be able to hit the damn thing, and no amount of steroids is going to help you there. Look at those 2,500 career walks and don't doubt for a minute that Barry couldn't have hit a lot more Home Runs than his current 749. Forget Hank Aaron's 755 career Home Runs, if it wasn't for the many intentional walks Barry would have smashed Hank's record several seasons ago and would probably have had close to 1,000 career Home Runs by now.
I disagree with sports stars taking steriods for anything other than recovering from an injury, but I also disagree with pitchers deliberately walking a batter, and despite their best efforts it looks like Barry will still succeed in breaking Hank's record. Now if Barry did take steroids or some other performance enhancing drug, those he is alleged to have taken were not barred by MLB at the time it is alleged he took them. The only thing illegal about them at that time was their use without prescription, but his use of them was not in violation of any MLB rules or policies. Intentionally walking a batter is also not in violation of the rules, it's a cheap tactic, it does not make for good TV, but it's also permissible.
Steroids may have helped Barry hit the ball further and thus hit Home Runs that may have otherwise fallen into the outfield, but the pitchers have also been working against Barry and denied him the opportunity to hit many more Home Runs. Two wrongs don't make a right but no matter how immoral or cheap we may think their actions were/are, neither Barry nor the pitchers have done anything wrong in the world of professional baseball.
What can steroids do? First I'd like to tell you what they can't do. They can't enhance what you don't have. They can't make you a better baseball player unless you're already a good baseball player. They can't make you a Home Run machine unless you already have the skills to hit the ball. Any idiot can swing a bat, but it takes good hand-eye coordination to swing a bat and hit a baseball moving at 95mph; it takes even more skill to not just hit the ball, but hit it where you want it to go. Steroids cannot make you do this if you couldn't hit the ball in the first place.
This may sound like I'm advocating steroid use in sports, particularly baseball, and of course the first baseballer you're going to think of with respect to steroids and being a home run machine is Barry Bonds...or maybe Sammy Sosa. I'm not advocating the use of steroids in sports, and I'm not saying Barry or Sammy used them.
I was all ready to write a scathing article about Barry Bonds and how steroids have perverted the game and how there will always be a dark cloud hanging over Barry's head if/when he breaks Hank Aaron's all-time Home Run record, even though it's never been proven that he used steroids. But as I read about Barry on Wikipedia and checked out his Stats I came to the realization that all steroids could possibly do for Barry was make him stronger. They don't help him hit the 95mph baseball, they only help him hit the ball harder & further.
You may (or may not) be interested to know that while Barry may not (yet) be the All-Time Home Run King, he is still a current Baseball record holder, several times over.
- He is one of only four players in the 40-40 club. That's 40 (or more) Home Runs and 40 (or more) stolen bases in a single season.
- He's the only player to have hit 400 or more Home Runs and stolen 400 or more Bases in their career, in fact he's now in the 500/500 bracket. He's not just a dangerous man to have at bat, he's a dangerous man to have on base, too.
- Despite this, he holds the record for the most walks in both a season (198), and in a career, having been walked 2,439 times, to date. He also holds the record for the most intentional walks in a season (68 times).
- He went eight consecutive seasons with a .600 (or higher) Slugging Percentage (being Total Bases div. by At Bats). So the pitchers probably think it's safer to walk him to first and let him try to steal a base or two, than risk letting him hit a double, triple, or even a Home Run.
What does all of this say about Barry Bonds and his possible use of Steroids?
It says that with or without steroids (not saying he took them, that would be libel, being the written form of slander) that Barry Bonds is an amazing baseball player. As I said earlier, steroids don't help you hit a baseball, they just help you hit it further. You still need to be able to hit the damn thing, and no amount of steroids is going to help you there. Look at those 2,500 career walks and don't doubt for a minute that Barry couldn't have hit a lot more Home Runs than his current 749. Forget Hank Aaron's 755 career Home Runs, if it wasn't for the many intentional walks Barry would have smashed Hank's record several seasons ago and would probably have had close to 1,000 career Home Runs by now.
I disagree with sports stars taking steriods for anything other than recovering from an injury, but I also disagree with pitchers deliberately walking a batter, and despite their best efforts it looks like Barry will still succeed in breaking Hank's record. Now if Barry did take steroids or some other performance enhancing drug, those he is alleged to have taken were not barred by MLB at the time it is alleged he took them. The only thing illegal about them at that time was their use without prescription, but his use of them was not in violation of any MLB rules or policies. Intentionally walking a batter is also not in violation of the rules, it's a cheap tactic, it does not make for good TV, but it's also permissible.
Steroids may have helped Barry hit the ball further and thus hit Home Runs that may have otherwise fallen into the outfield, but the pitchers have also been working against Barry and denied him the opportunity to hit many more Home Runs. Two wrongs don't make a right but no matter how immoral or cheap we may think their actions were/are, neither Barry nor the pitchers have done anything wrong in the world of professional baseball.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Learning to dance
or I got rhythm but I don't got the moves
I can carry a tune and sing pretty well but I hate 3/4 time, it just seems...unnatural; It's like there's a beat missing, and theoretically there is, if you're used to 4/4 time in which most songs are written. I find it especially difficult trying to play a 3/4 song on guitar because the chord changes are usually on the 1st and 3rd note of each bar, so you might play a song like this:
A and 2 and C and G and 2 and D and A and 2 and C and G and 2 and D and so on, and usually I've lost it by then. In 4/4 time the chord changes follow a more natural rhythm. A and 2 and C and 4 and G and 2 and D and 4 and A and 2 and so on.
So it shouldn't come as a big surprise that I have trouble dancing the Waltz and other classical dances, which are almost all written in 3/4 time. Or at least I did have trouble until last night when Liz and I went to our first Ballroom Dance Class, and I learned a little secret about Classical Dancing. I learned that rather than dance a Waltz while counting Ooone Two Three, Ooone Two Three, and so on, it's actually easier to count Ooone Two Three, Foooour Five Six. This made a whole lot more sense for a very simple reason. On One you take a longer stride with your Left Foot, and on Four you take a longer stride with your Right Foot, and on Two, Three, Five and Six you take shorter steps. Now there's no confusion trying to remember which foot you're supposed to move on One this time, because if it's One it's your Left Foot, and if it's Four it's your Right Foot.
Of course this usually only got confusing when you performed what the Teachers called a Box Waltz, being one you perform on a crowded dance floor where you have enough room to turn on the spot but cannot move around the floor itself. So you'd step forward with your left foot (one), bring your right foot up and to the side (two), then bring your left foot across to your right foot (three). Now step back with your right foot (four), bring your left foot back and to the side (five), then move your right foot across to meet it (six), and repeat with left foot forward (one), and so on. A Waltz is not a three-step dance, it is, but not really. It's actually a six-step dance because you alternate feet with each longer step. As such, dancing a Waltz and counting Ooone Two Three Foooour Five Six, and so on, makes learning to dance a Waltz a darn sight easier.
They just might make a dancer out of me, yet.
I can carry a tune and sing pretty well but I hate 3/4 time, it just seems...unnatural; It's like there's a beat missing, and theoretically there is, if you're used to 4/4 time in which most songs are written. I find it especially difficult trying to play a 3/4 song on guitar because the chord changes are usually on the 1st and 3rd note of each bar, so you might play a song like this:
A and 2 and C and G and 2 and D and A and 2 and C and G and 2 and D and so on, and usually I've lost it by then. In 4/4 time the chord changes follow a more natural rhythm. A and 2 and C and 4 and G and 2 and D and 4 and A and 2 and so on.
So it shouldn't come as a big surprise that I have trouble dancing the Waltz and other classical dances, which are almost all written in 3/4 time. Or at least I did have trouble until last night when Liz and I went to our first Ballroom Dance Class, and I learned a little secret about Classical Dancing. I learned that rather than dance a Waltz while counting Ooone Two Three, Ooone Two Three, and so on, it's actually easier to count Ooone Two Three, Foooour Five Six. This made a whole lot more sense for a very simple reason. On One you take a longer stride with your Left Foot, and on Four you take a longer stride with your Right Foot, and on Two, Three, Five and Six you take shorter steps. Now there's no confusion trying to remember which foot you're supposed to move on One this time, because if it's One it's your Left Foot, and if it's Four it's your Right Foot.
Of course this usually only got confusing when you performed what the Teachers called a Box Waltz, being one you perform on a crowded dance floor where you have enough room to turn on the spot but cannot move around the floor itself. So you'd step forward with your left foot (one), bring your right foot up and to the side (two), then bring your left foot across to your right foot (three). Now step back with your right foot (four), bring your left foot back and to the side (five), then move your right foot across to meet it (six), and repeat with left foot forward (one), and so on. A Waltz is not a three-step dance, it is, but not really. It's actually a six-step dance because you alternate feet with each longer step. As such, dancing a Waltz and counting Ooone Two Three Foooour Five Six, and so on, makes learning to dance a Waltz a darn sight easier.
They just might make a dancer out of me, yet.
Monday, June 25, 2007
Conserving Water
Or An Idea with Merit, but hardly Practical
Our Director sent out a Memo, basically restating what the Mayor had said about cutting our water consumption by 10%. I totally wanted to reply to it asking if that meant instead of drinking 5 bottles of water per day I should only drink 4 1/2, but I refrained. Probably a wise idea ;)
Seriously, how do they expect people who work in an office to reduce water consumption. Actually, here are a few ideas )
To: All Staff
Re: 10% reduction in Water Consumption.
Date: Today! Now!
Here are a few suggestions to assist staff with the Mayor's goal of reducing water consumption by 10%
* Drink 4 1/2 bottles of water per day, not 5.
* Only fill the 10-cup coffee maker to the 9-cup mark.
* Keep track of your trips to the restroom. On the 10th trip do not flush the toilet or wash your hands.
* Every 10th person who wants to wash their coffee cup or lunch dishes in the sink...cannot.
Please feel free to include other helpful suggestions of how we can all save water. Together we can make a difference.
Our Director sent out a Memo, basically restating what the Mayor had said about cutting our water consumption by 10%. I totally wanted to reply to it asking if that meant instead of drinking 5 bottles of water per day I should only drink 4 1/2, but I refrained. Probably a wise idea ;)
Seriously, how do they expect people who work in an office to reduce water consumption. Actually, here are a few ideas )
To: All Staff
Re: 10% reduction in Water Consumption.
Date: Today! Now!
Here are a few suggestions to assist staff with the Mayor's goal of reducing water consumption by 10%
* Drink 4 1/2 bottles of water per day, not 5.
* Only fill the 10-cup coffee maker to the 9-cup mark.
* Keep track of your trips to the restroom. On the 10th trip do not flush the toilet or wash your hands.
* Every 10th person who wants to wash their coffee cup or lunch dishes in the sink...cannot.
Please feel free to include other helpful suggestions of how we can all save water. Together we can make a difference.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Not a bad weekend
or I knew I should have turned left at Albuquerque
Friday morning after dropping the kids at school Liz and I had breakfast together at a local diner. Then we went shopping at Liz's favorite store where we purchased a garden storage bin. Back home, aided by my trusty rubber mallet, I put the thing together, loaded it up with "stuff" then parked it around the back. I then felt compelled to clean up the backyard, which included trimming one of the trees and replacing the latch on the gate. After lunch I waited for the Cable Guy, and waited, and waited, and around 3:45pm he finally arrived to install our DVR (he was scheduled to be there between 1pm and 3pm). With the DVR set up JE and I hit the local Par 3 golf course where he was ecstatic to be allowed to drive the golf cart around. They've done a bit of grounds work and it's not just a simple Par 3 anymore, now it's a little bit challenging. I made a few Pars, but I also had my share of triple Bogeys. I lost one hole to JE, and on another was thinking too much about the bunker guarding the front of the green, flubbed my tee-shot, and hit my ball barely 10 feet in front of me. Yup, on one hole my 7-year old son hit his tee shot further than me. I managed to scrape in with a +19 score. Liz picked us up around 8:30 and it was hometime and bedtime.
After breakfast with the in-laws (and leaving the kids with them) we headed east out to Ontario. I wanted to take Liz to Victoria Gardens, a mall I'd discovered on a site visit out that way, but I couldn't quite remember where it was. We exited the 15N at Foothill, which is the correct exit, but we turned right instead of left, so after a detour we wound up at Ontario Mills Mall which is where Liz wanted to go anyway.
We shopped around a bit then I finally convinced Liz to come in to Dave & Busters with me where we played a few games of Ghost Squad, or tried to. They have four Ghost Squad machines set up in the Ontario D&B, and it wasn't until we sat down at the third machine that we were able to get a game together. On the first machine the trigger on my rifle was jammed. The attendant appeared like lightning and set us up on the second machine with 10 credits. Liz burned through most of them because my rifle on the second machine didn't work properly either.
After that Liz and I had lunch, in D&B, and then decided to give another machine one last chance, because I still hadn't been able to play :( This machine and its rifles worked pretty good, and Liz and I were soon sitting side-by-side mowing down terrorists. We beat the first two levels and made it to the end of the final level, grenaded the boss's shield away, then promptly forgot we had grenade launchers and tried to shoot the final boss to pieces. He still had a tiny bit of health left when we ran out of time and I swear if we'd both just tossed a couple more grenades we would have beaten the game. Someone claimed she didn't like video games, but I think she enjoyed playing Ghost Squad ;)
Sunday afternoon we rescued the in-laws and went swimming in their pool. Our baby girl was a little scared to go in, but with a little bit of encouragement (and no, that doesn't mean we just tossed her in) she was swimming around with me. More to the point she was holding on to my shoulders, and kept afloat by her buoyancy vest she felt confident enough to kick her legs. Then it was all "Look at me! I'm swimming!". She even got a face full of water a few times but it didn't phase her, and when it was finally time to get out she had to be dragged kicking and screaming from the pool. It's a big change from last year when she'd cling to me for dear life and couldn't wait to get out.
All in all, it was a pretty good weekend.
Friday morning after dropping the kids at school Liz and I had breakfast together at a local diner. Then we went shopping at Liz's favorite store where we purchased a garden storage bin. Back home, aided by my trusty rubber mallet, I put the thing together, loaded it up with "stuff" then parked it around the back. I then felt compelled to clean up the backyard, which included trimming one of the trees and replacing the latch on the gate. After lunch I waited for the Cable Guy, and waited, and waited, and around 3:45pm he finally arrived to install our DVR (he was scheduled to be there between 1pm and 3pm). With the DVR set up JE and I hit the local Par 3 golf course where he was ecstatic to be allowed to drive the golf cart around. They've done a bit of grounds work and it's not just a simple Par 3 anymore, now it's a little bit challenging. I made a few Pars, but I also had my share of triple Bogeys. I lost one hole to JE, and on another was thinking too much about the bunker guarding the front of the green, flubbed my tee-shot, and hit my ball barely 10 feet in front of me. Yup, on one hole my 7-year old son hit his tee shot further than me. I managed to scrape in with a +19 score. Liz picked us up around 8:30 and it was hometime and bedtime.
After breakfast with the in-laws (and leaving the kids with them) we headed east out to Ontario. I wanted to take Liz to Victoria Gardens, a mall I'd discovered on a site visit out that way, but I couldn't quite remember where it was. We exited the 15N at Foothill, which is the correct exit, but we turned right instead of left, so after a detour we wound up at Ontario Mills Mall which is where Liz wanted to go anyway.
We shopped around a bit then I finally convinced Liz to come in to Dave & Busters with me where we played a few games of Ghost Squad, or tried to. They have four Ghost Squad machines set up in the Ontario D&B, and it wasn't until we sat down at the third machine that we were able to get a game together. On the first machine the trigger on my rifle was jammed. The attendant appeared like lightning and set us up on the second machine with 10 credits. Liz burned through most of them because my rifle on the second machine didn't work properly either.
After that Liz and I had lunch, in D&B, and then decided to give another machine one last chance, because I still hadn't been able to play :( This machine and its rifles worked pretty good, and Liz and I were soon sitting side-by-side mowing down terrorists. We beat the first two levels and made it to the end of the final level, grenaded the boss's shield away, then promptly forgot we had grenade launchers and tried to shoot the final boss to pieces. He still had a tiny bit of health left when we ran out of time and I swear if we'd both just tossed a couple more grenades we would have beaten the game. Someone claimed she didn't like video games, but I think she enjoyed playing Ghost Squad ;)
Sunday afternoon we rescued the in-laws and went swimming in their pool. Our baby girl was a little scared to go in, but with a little bit of encouragement (and no, that doesn't mean we just tossed her in) she was swimming around with me. More to the point she was holding on to my shoulders, and kept afloat by her buoyancy vest she felt confident enough to kick her legs. Then it was all "Look at me! I'm swimming!". She even got a face full of water a few times but it didn't phase her, and when it was finally time to get out she had to be dragged kicking and screaming from the pool. It's a big change from last year when she'd cling to me for dear life and couldn't wait to get out.
All in all, it was a pretty good weekend.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Carbs in coffee
Or Why you can't lose weight drinking coffee.
Actually you can, but how many of us drink straight coffee these days? I do, at home, but I also put in an ounce or two of creamer. At Starbucks or Gloria Jeans or a random coffee house I usually order a Latte. Now I've recently taken to drinking non-fat lattes in an effort to be a little healthier, but a recent trip to a dieting website to find out how many carbs are in my coffee revealed some startling news.
A 16-oz latte made with whole milk can contain approx. 23 grams of carbohydrates and 146 calories, while a non-fat latte contains approx. 24 grams of carbs and 86 calories. Less calories for going non-fat, which is good, but practically the same amount of carbs; not so good if you're trying to lose weight. That morning latte has almost 25g of carbs in it, which is 5g more than the recommended daily allowance of carbs for a starting Atkins' dieter.
Then you get another latte midway through the morning, and maybe a third after lunch to take back to the office. Midway through the afternoon, as you're struggling with a report the boss just dumped on you, a coworker suggests a Starbucks run and you're all over that like Whipped Cream on a Frappuccino. Congratulations. You've just consumed 100g of carbs in one day, and that's potentially your average work day. You cut out 300 calories going non-fat (which counts for something), but you're still snarfing down all those carbs.
Guess it's time to switch from Lattes to Cafe Americanos. After all, water can't have many carbs in it, can it? Can it?
Actually you can, but how many of us drink straight coffee these days? I do, at home, but I also put in an ounce or two of creamer. At Starbucks or Gloria Jeans or a random coffee house I usually order a Latte. Now I've recently taken to drinking non-fat lattes in an effort to be a little healthier, but a recent trip to a dieting website to find out how many carbs are in my coffee revealed some startling news.
A 16-oz latte made with whole milk can contain approx. 23 grams of carbohydrates and 146 calories, while a non-fat latte contains approx. 24 grams of carbs and 86 calories. Less calories for going non-fat, which is good, but practically the same amount of carbs; not so good if you're trying to lose weight. That morning latte has almost 25g of carbs in it, which is 5g more than the recommended daily allowance of carbs for a starting Atkins' dieter.
Then you get another latte midway through the morning, and maybe a third after lunch to take back to the office. Midway through the afternoon, as you're struggling with a report the boss just dumped on you, a coworker suggests a Starbucks run and you're all over that like Whipped Cream on a Frappuccino. Congratulations. You've just consumed 100g of carbs in one day, and that's potentially your average work day. You cut out 300 calories going non-fat (which counts for something), but you're still snarfing down all those carbs.
Guess it's time to switch from Lattes to Cafe Americanos. After all, water can't have many carbs in it, can it? Can it?
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Thank you, Dad
Or how we're shaped by our parents
I'm a fairly capable guy with my hands. When we moved into our house I tore up the downstairs carpet and laid down wood-laminate flooring. I replaced the dining area chandelier, the stairway light, the upstairs hallway light fixture, and all the light fixtures in all three bathrooms, as well as the faucets in the same. I took out the sliding glass door for the kids' bath and put in a shower rod and curtain. I completely removed the kids' toilet when it got clogged up, extracted the plastic, toy boat and reinstalled the toilet.
Today, after a trip to Home Depot, I removed the old tap & pipe leading from the wall to the toilet tank (after turning off the water to the house, which annoyingly doesn't turn off but still slowly runs so you have to turn on the downstairs taps and it's bloody lucky I was working in the upstairs bathroom) and...er...forgot where I was. Oh yeah, in our bathroom, replacing the old flexible but still fairly solid pipe with a considerably more flexible pipe so Liz and I can use our en-suite toilet again. Which I accomplished most successfully.
I have my father to thank for my handyman skills, but it's not so much handyman skills, it's an almost unshakable faith in myself that leads me to believe I can do almost anything around the house, and I probably could, with the right tools.
My father may have moved on to the next stage in his journey through life & death (or whatever happens after this) but he lives on through me. Almost all of our parents will live on through us, and through our children, both the good and the bad. We have them to thank for the positives in our lives, and we (usually) have them to thank for the negatives.
"When I grow up I'm never going to treat my kids this way," you might say to your mum, then lo & behold, what happens? You grow up, have kids, and find yourself treating them exactly the same way your mum treated you...often because your kids are treating you the same way you treated your mum ;)
Embrace the positive, and try to change the negative for the better, but don't worry (too much) if you can't, it's your nature.
I'm a fairly capable guy with my hands. When we moved into our house I tore up the downstairs carpet and laid down wood-laminate flooring. I replaced the dining area chandelier, the stairway light, the upstairs hallway light fixture, and all the light fixtures in all three bathrooms, as well as the faucets in the same. I took out the sliding glass door for the kids' bath and put in a shower rod and curtain. I completely removed the kids' toilet when it got clogged up, extracted the plastic, toy boat and reinstalled the toilet.
Today, after a trip to Home Depot, I removed the old tap & pipe leading from the wall to the toilet tank (after turning off the water to the house, which annoyingly doesn't turn off but still slowly runs so you have to turn on the downstairs taps and it's bloody lucky I was working in the upstairs bathroom) and...er...forgot where I was. Oh yeah, in our bathroom, replacing the old flexible but still fairly solid pipe with a considerably more flexible pipe so Liz and I can use our en-suite toilet again. Which I accomplished most successfully.
I have my father to thank for my handyman skills, but it's not so much handyman skills, it's an almost unshakable faith in myself that leads me to believe I can do almost anything around the house, and I probably could, with the right tools.
My father may have moved on to the next stage in his journey through life & death (or whatever happens after this) but he lives on through me. Almost all of our parents will live on through us, and through our children, both the good and the bad. We have them to thank for the positives in our lives, and we (usually) have them to thank for the negatives.
"When I grow up I'm never going to treat my kids this way," you might say to your mum, then lo & behold, what happens? You grow up, have kids, and find yourself treating them exactly the same way your mum treated you...often because your kids are treating you the same way you treated your mum ;)
Embrace the positive, and try to change the negative for the better, but don't worry (too much) if you can't, it's your nature.
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
One fine day in downtown
Or Fiction from the twisted mind of the Cap'n
"I like your ring."
"Huh?" I looked across at the man standing next to me, looked down at the ring on my left hand, then back up at the man. "It's my wedding ri...", the words tapered off as I stared down the barrel of the gun in his hand.
"Give me the fucking ring!" he yelled.
"I like your gun," I said. "Is it a Glock, or a Smith and Wesson?"
"Huh?" he said, confused, momentarily looking down at the gun in his hand. He looked up to see me stepping in towards him. I reached for the gun, twisting my body as he fired a round at point blank range, then my hands closed on the blistering hot metal. Who knew that a gun could get so hot after firing just one round?
I ignored the burning in my fingers and twisted the gun around and up and in a heartbeat the situation had changed and the gun was now pointing at him and it was his turn to look down the barrel.
I'd closed my hands over his so his hands were still wrapped around the gun and his finger was still on the trigger.
"I suggest you let go," I said calmly. "If you fight for the gun it's going to go off, and you'll get shot."
"FUCK YOU!" He screamed. For a second he pushed against me but just for a second, for like I'd said the gun exploded, along with the back of his head, and just like his brains all the fight went out of him.
I let go of his hands and the gun and stepped back as his body collapsed at my feet. I was feeling a little light headed myself, after-effects of the adrenaline rush, I figured. Rather than fall down I sat down and listened to the wailing of sirens that was getting closer and louder. In the heart of downtown the police were never far away, and within seconds a Black & White screeched to a halt with one wheel up on the curb, and two officers leaped out, their guns drawn and pointing in my direction.
I stood up and held out my empty hands, trying to be as non-threatening as possible, which can be tough when you're standing over a dead body.
"He tried to rob me," I said. "We struggled and his gun went off."
One officer looked at me and lowered his gun. The other ignored me and knelt at the body at my feet. I saw him check for a pulse but he stopped when the second officer, still looking at me, said "Don't bother, he's gone." To me, he added, "why didn't you give him what he wanted?"
"He wanted my wedding ring," I said, holding up my hand.
"How much could it be worth?" he asked me.
"My wedding ring? Priceless! Sentimental value and all that."
"What about your life? What value would you put on that?"
"Well, that's priceless too, of course."
"So you traded one for the other?" he asked me, sadly.
"Huh?"
He gestured to his partner, still kneeling at the body at my feet. I looked down at his partner but he wasn't looking back at me. He was looking up at the second officer.
I looked back at the second officer, too. "I don't understand."
"Look again," he said.
I looked down, this time at the body at my feet...my body...at my feet. The front of my body's shirt was soaked in blood.
I looked up at the second officer. "But...I..."
"I'm sorry," he said. "But you're dead. You traded your life for a wedding ring."
"Guess I wasn't as good at dodging bullets as I thought," I mused.
Then I noticed a speck of light out of the corner of my eye, growing brighter and brighter. The officer and I turned to look at it. The other officer just looked at his partner.
"How's it going?" he said.
"Good," replied the second officer. "He's been good; he's getting the light."
"Cool," said the first officer.
"Only I can see you," said the second officer, looking at me. "Or hear you. My mother was a witch, so was my grandmother, and her mother before her. I got the sight from them. You're lucky you're getting the light. See, the dark's got him." He gestured to the ground and I looked and saw my would-be mugger's body, covered in black ant-like specks. His dead body appeared to be glowing but the dark specks crawled all over him and they seemed to be eating his body's light because it got fainter as I watched.
"Oh look at that," said the second officer, and I obeyed, my eyes drawn to the speck of light which was no longer a speck but had grown brighter and larger and was now the size of a door. A figure appeared in the light and I watched as it stepped through. Gradually my eyes adjusted to the glare and I could make out the features of its face and my heart leaped, or it would have, if I hadn't been dead.
"Cathy! Oh my God! Is it really you?"
"Hi, Peter," said the voice that now, truly belonged to my angel. "I missed you."
"Oh Cathy," I said, "I missed you, too!"
I don't know how two spirits managed it but we embraced, and the years since death had torn us apart melted away into nothing.
Finally I turned and faced the second officer. I held up my hand, my left hand, which somehow wore a ghost of my wedding ring, an endless loop, a symbol of my never ending love for Cathy.
"I told you it had sentimental value," I said.
"Priceless," was his reply.
I nodded to him, and holding hands Cathy and I stepped into the light and were gone, together.
"Huh?" I looked across at the man standing next to me, looked down at the ring on my left hand, then back up at the man. "It's my wedding ri...", the words tapered off as I stared down the barrel of the gun in his hand.
"Give me the fucking ring!" he yelled.
"I like your gun," I said. "Is it a Glock, or a Smith and Wesson?"
"Huh?" he said, confused, momentarily looking down at the gun in his hand. He looked up to see me stepping in towards him. I reached for the gun, twisting my body as he fired a round at point blank range, then my hands closed on the blistering hot metal. Who knew that a gun could get so hot after firing just one round?
I ignored the burning in my fingers and twisted the gun around and up and in a heartbeat the situation had changed and the gun was now pointing at him and it was his turn to look down the barrel.
I'd closed my hands over his so his hands were still wrapped around the gun and his finger was still on the trigger.
"I suggest you let go," I said calmly. "If you fight for the gun it's going to go off, and you'll get shot."
"FUCK YOU!" He screamed. For a second he pushed against me but just for a second, for like I'd said the gun exploded, along with the back of his head, and just like his brains all the fight went out of him.
I let go of his hands and the gun and stepped back as his body collapsed at my feet. I was feeling a little light headed myself, after-effects of the adrenaline rush, I figured. Rather than fall down I sat down and listened to the wailing of sirens that was getting closer and louder. In the heart of downtown the police were never far away, and within seconds a Black & White screeched to a halt with one wheel up on the curb, and two officers leaped out, their guns drawn and pointing in my direction.
I stood up and held out my empty hands, trying to be as non-threatening as possible, which can be tough when you're standing over a dead body.
"He tried to rob me," I said. "We struggled and his gun went off."
One officer looked at me and lowered his gun. The other ignored me and knelt at the body at my feet. I saw him check for a pulse but he stopped when the second officer, still looking at me, said "Don't bother, he's gone." To me, he added, "why didn't you give him what he wanted?"
"He wanted my wedding ring," I said, holding up my hand.
"How much could it be worth?" he asked me.
"My wedding ring? Priceless! Sentimental value and all that."
"What about your life? What value would you put on that?"
"Well, that's priceless too, of course."
"So you traded one for the other?" he asked me, sadly.
"Huh?"
He gestured to his partner, still kneeling at the body at my feet. I looked down at his partner but he wasn't looking back at me. He was looking up at the second officer.
I looked back at the second officer, too. "I don't understand."
"Look again," he said.
I looked down, this time at the body at my feet...my body...at my feet. The front of my body's shirt was soaked in blood.
I looked up at the second officer. "But...I..."
"I'm sorry," he said. "But you're dead. You traded your life for a wedding ring."
"Guess I wasn't as good at dodging bullets as I thought," I mused.
Then I noticed a speck of light out of the corner of my eye, growing brighter and brighter. The officer and I turned to look at it. The other officer just looked at his partner.
"How's it going?" he said.
"Good," replied the second officer. "He's been good; he's getting the light."
"Cool," said the first officer.
"Only I can see you," said the second officer, looking at me. "Or hear you. My mother was a witch, so was my grandmother, and her mother before her. I got the sight from them. You're lucky you're getting the light. See, the dark's got him." He gestured to the ground and I looked and saw my would-be mugger's body, covered in black ant-like specks. His dead body appeared to be glowing but the dark specks crawled all over him and they seemed to be eating his body's light because it got fainter as I watched.
"Oh look at that," said the second officer, and I obeyed, my eyes drawn to the speck of light which was no longer a speck but had grown brighter and larger and was now the size of a door. A figure appeared in the light and I watched as it stepped through. Gradually my eyes adjusted to the glare and I could make out the features of its face and my heart leaped, or it would have, if I hadn't been dead.
"Cathy! Oh my God! Is it really you?"
"Hi, Peter," said the voice that now, truly belonged to my angel. "I missed you."
"Oh Cathy," I said, "I missed you, too!"
I don't know how two spirits managed it but we embraced, and the years since death had torn us apart melted away into nothing.
Finally I turned and faced the second officer. I held up my hand, my left hand, which somehow wore a ghost of my wedding ring, an endless loop, a symbol of my never ending love for Cathy.
"I told you it had sentimental value," I said.
"Priceless," was his reply.
I nodded to him, and holding hands Cathy and I stepped into the light and were gone, together.
The dogsh name was Junior!
Or Shades of Indiana!
While strolling back from the local Starbucks I passed a lady I'd passed before (not today, another day, another "before"). I recognized her but I didn't recognize her, because I recognized her dog. It was a littlerat dog Chihuahua with a t-shirt. You don't see many dogs in t-shirts around my office, most of them are in buns. So this dog stood out. I passed the dog in a t-shirt and its owner and was waiting for the pedestrian crossing when I heard a voice calling out, "Junior! Come over here! Get over here, Junior!"
I turned around and it was the lady I hadn't recognized calling to the dog in a t-shirt that I had.
The only reason I could think of for calling a dog "Junior" is a maternal fantasy, an unfulfilled desire to be a mother. Dogs might be family but projecting your non-existent child on to them is just scary. Which is a very apt description for this woman. A few hundred years ago we might have burned her, or dunked her in the local pond. Or both. Better to dunk them afterwards though, they don't burn so well when they're wet.
While strolling back from the local Starbucks I passed a lady I'd passed before (not today, another day, another "before"). I recognized her but I didn't recognize her, because I recognized her dog. It was a little
I turned around and it was the lady I hadn't recognized calling to the dog in a t-shirt that I had.
The only reason I could think of for calling a dog "Junior" is a maternal fantasy, an unfulfilled desire to be a mother. Dogs might be family but projecting your non-existent child on to them is just scary. Which is a very apt description for this woman. A few hundred years ago we might have burned her, or dunked her in the local pond. Or both. Better to dunk them afterwards though, they don't burn so well when they're wet.
Monday, June 04, 2007
MTV Awards
Or What most people are probably talking about around the Water Cooler this morning?
And it's not who won what award, but, OMG! Did you see Will Ferrell and Sacha Baron Cohen kiss?!?!?
I'll confess, I have not seen either Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for make blah blah blah, or, Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby, which narrowly avoids a blah blah blah of its own for an excessively long title. Will Ferrell has some classic moments, and I've seen some clips from Borat which I also thought were rather amusing, and I'd probably sit down and watch either movie if they were on and enjoy them, too.
I found last night's Kiss (which I think deserves a capital K) and the preceeding interaction between Will and Sacha to be hilarious, and brilliant off-the-wall comedy. By contrast, when Sacha came out to accept his award for Borat (the movie), and he apologized on Borat's behalf (Borat the man/character), I felt his acceptance speech was rather flat, especially coming on the heels of The Kiss (now with a capitalized The ;)
I think a better acceptance speech would have been if Sacha had thanked Will Ferrell, and stage-whispered an "I love you" to him, but while funny that would have had no relevance to Borat (the movie). Borat himself could even have made the acceptance speech, and perhaps Sacha should have gone down that road, instead. Perhaps pre-recording a segment as Borat (in Kazakhastan) then talking with him as if it were live footage. Sacha as Borat's straight man might have been a winner.
And it's not who won what award, but, OMG! Did you see Will Ferrell and Sacha Baron Cohen kiss?!?!?
I'll confess, I have not seen either Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for make blah blah blah, or, Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby, which narrowly avoids a blah blah blah of its own for an excessively long title. Will Ferrell has some classic moments, and I've seen some clips from Borat which I also thought were rather amusing, and I'd probably sit down and watch either movie if they were on and enjoy them, too.
I found last night's Kiss (which I think deserves a capital K) and the preceeding interaction between Will and Sacha to be hilarious, and brilliant off-the-wall comedy. By contrast, when Sacha came out to accept his award for Borat (the movie), and he apologized on Borat's behalf (Borat the man/character), I felt his acceptance speech was rather flat, especially coming on the heels of The Kiss (now with a capitalized The ;)
I think a better acceptance speech would have been if Sacha had thanked Will Ferrell, and stage-whispered an "I love you" to him, but while funny that would have had no relevance to Borat (the movie). Borat himself could even have made the acceptance speech, and perhaps Sacha should have gone down that road, instead. Perhaps pre-recording a segment as Borat (in Kazakhastan) then talking with him as if it were live footage. Sacha as Borat's straight man might have been a winner.
Grammer Gods, where are you?
Or And and Or. Which is correct? And when? And why not both?
While writing a letter I created a sentence where I stated that I was forced to choose between two alternatives, essentially I said:
Forced to choose between riding Public Transport for three hours or spending one hour in my car I chose to drive.
Now I tried adding a comma between car and I but it made no difference; in both cases Word's Grammar/Spellchecker insisted there was a mistake with the or. When I hit F7 it told me the correct word to use was and. Which makes sense, but or also made sense to me. I can choose one or the other, right? So why is it correct to use or in the sentence immediately preceding this one, but I must use and in my example?
While writing a letter I created a sentence where I stated that I was forced to choose between two alternatives, essentially I said:
Forced to choose between riding Public Transport for three hours or spending one hour in my car I chose to drive.
Now I tried adding a comma between car and I but it made no difference; in both cases Word's Grammar/Spellchecker insisted there was a mistake with the or. When I hit F7 it told me the correct word to use was and. Which makes sense, but or also made sense to me. I can choose one or the other, right? So why is it correct to use or in the sentence immediately preceding this one, but I must use and in my example?
Friday, June 01, 2007
I'm here, and not there
or Is coping through avoidance really coping? Or just avoiding?
Honestly, I don't know whether it's easier or harder having been here for the last 8 years.
Easier, because I've been living my life for the last 8 years without my father's constant presence, so the only day-to-day difference is that I'll never hear his voice on the other end of the telephone.
Harder, because I never lived with him for the last 8 years, so I never watched him die a little more each day, until at the end perhaps it was a relief to know his suffering was finally over.
In August I return to Australia for the third time since my father's death. The first time was to bury him, and the second time was barely a month or so later for the trip that should have introduced my daughter to her Pop. This time around I'll be walking my mother down the aisle as she marries the new man in her life.
Again, easier, because I don't have to live there and constantly see my mother with someone other than my father?
Or harder, because I was never there with her as she stuck to her vows until Death did her and my father part. So I never witnessed her depression as day-by-day she watched the man she loved slowly die, so I'm also not there now to see the positive changes in her, or share in her joy at finding someone new to love.
In September I will be doing one of the hardest things (I hope) that I will ever have to do in my life. I will have to walk down the aisle with my mother and give her away, essentially let her go to a complete stranger, a man I've never met. I know my mum loves him, I know he has the approval of my sisters and one of mum's closest friends, but that won't make it any easier. But I have to do it, anyway.
Bravery is not about being unafraid; it's about being terrified but doing the right thing anyway. The right thing for me to do is let my mum live her life. It's right to let her live, and not expect her to become a Miss Havisham.
In September I will have to really face the fact that my father is gone and that he's never coming back, and that terrifies me.
Honestly, I don't know whether it's easier or harder having been here for the last 8 years.
Easier, because I've been living my life for the last 8 years without my father's constant presence, so the only day-to-day difference is that I'll never hear his voice on the other end of the telephone.
Harder, because I never lived with him for the last 8 years, so I never watched him die a little more each day, until at the end perhaps it was a relief to know his suffering was finally over.
In August I return to Australia for the third time since my father's death. The first time was to bury him, and the second time was barely a month or so later for the trip that should have introduced my daughter to her Pop. This time around I'll be walking my mother down the aisle as she marries the new man in her life.
Again, easier, because I don't have to live there and constantly see my mother with someone other than my father?
Or harder, because I was never there with her as she stuck to her vows until Death did her and my father part. So I never witnessed her depression as day-by-day she watched the man she loved slowly die, so I'm also not there now to see the positive changes in her, or share in her joy at finding someone new to love.
In September I will be doing one of the hardest things (I hope) that I will ever have to do in my life. I will have to walk down the aisle with my mother and give her away, essentially let her go to a complete stranger, a man I've never met. I know my mum loves him, I know he has the approval of my sisters and one of mum's closest friends, but that won't make it any easier. But I have to do it, anyway.
Bravery is not about being unafraid; it's about being terrified but doing the right thing anyway. The right thing for me to do is let my mum live her life. It's right to let her live, and not expect her to become a Miss Havisham.
In September I will have to really face the fact that my father is gone and that he's never coming back, and that terrifies me.
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Selling Virtual Property
Or how to avoid getting scammed.
So you leveled your WoW toon/s to 80, got him(them) decked out in ZOMG! Epix! Pewpewpew! then you decided you wanted to sell your account and move on to WAR/LOTR (or some other MMO). The classic way to sell your account is via eBay, and contrary to what anyone might try to tell you selling your WoW account is entirely legal and totally allowed by Blizzard's TOS and EULA.
From WoW's EULA, 4.(b) Ownership - You may permanently transfer all of your rights and obligations under the License Agreement to another only by physically transferring the original media (e.g., the CD-ROM or DVD you purchased), all original packaging, and all Manuals or other documentation distributed with the Game;
and Wow's Terms of Use, 10. Security of Login Information - You are responsible for maintaining the confidentiality of the Login Information...
Blizzard give you the right to sell your copy of WoW, and while TOU 7. No Ownership Rights in Account makes it quite clear that you have no ownership rights to your account, Blizzard do make you responsible for the security of your WoW Account Info. Thus you have the right to sell your copy of the game, and you also have the right to provide someone else with your Account information.
BUT!!! (and yes, that's a big 'but') WoW's TOU 8. Account Suspension/Deletion gives Blizzard the right to suspend or delete said Account for any reason (or no reason) whatsoever. I'd say "so don't give them a reason to suspend/ban you" but it's kind of pointless when they don't even need a reason. If you agree to play their game you also agree to let Blizzard suspend/ban you at any time for any reason, or for no reason at all. That's just how deals with the devil work.
Anyway, enough with the legal mumbo jumbo, let's get on with the Guide to selling Virtual Property.
Step 1 - Create your eBay auction, listing it as WoW Online Game, inc. all CDs for both Expansions, manuals, etc, (inc. bonus lvl 80 Character) or something like that. Feel free to list the pertinent parts of WoW's EULA by which you have the right to sell your particular copy of the game as long as you transfer all media that came with the game.
Step 2 - Accept the Paypal payment. Really, Paypal is fine; trust me. If you can get a Bank/Cashier's Check that's ok too, but Paypal is your friend. NEVER accept a Personal Check but if you must, make sure it clears first. Or sell it to a Check Cashing Agency, take the 10%+ hit, and let them deal with the scammer when his check bounces.
Step 3 - Do NOT email the Buyer your Account Name & Password, seriously, and no, you're not trying to scam them either.
Step 3(a) - Use UPS, FedEx, Registered USPS, or any Certified Mail Service which provides a Tracking Number and/or Receipt Confirmation to snail-mail the CDs, Gamebox, Manuals, etc, to the Buyer. Insist on receipt confirmation. Do not email the Account Name & Password to they Buyer (yet). Ignore any threats by the Buyer to leave negative feedback on your eBay Account if you don't email them the Account Name & Password RIGHT NOW!!!
Step 4 - Get confirmation that the Buyer has received your snail mailed items. If necessary, print out this information and keep it in a secure place. This is proof that the Buyer has physically taken possession of the item you sold, and it will save your arse and money in the event of a dispute.
Step 5 - NOW you can email the Buyer your Account Name & Password. Ignore them when they say they can't log in and they want their money back. Try logging in yourself and you'll see they've already changed the password from whatever it was you set it to, and if they didn't change it they're an idiot.
Step 5(a) - Tell them you know they've logged in because they've already changed the password so they should stop being a douche bag, go play WoW and lrn2play.
Step 5(b) - Tell them the Account Name & Password work fine because you just logged in using them, and here they are again in case they typed them incorrectly. Try logging in again and you'll see they've now changed the password. Refer to Step 5(a).
Step 6 - Provide Paypal with evidence of physical proof of delivery when the douche bag tries to dispute the transaction, claiming they never received the item and they want their money back. If you'd only emailed them your Account Name & Password that might have worked and you'd have been screwed, but you sent them a physical copy of the game and you have proof that they received it. Who cares that they agreed to pay $1,000 for a copy of WoW (inc. bonus lvl 80 character)? You sold your account on eBay and avoided getting scammed. You win!
Step 7 - Fire up WAR/LOTR (or your other new MMO) and enjoy.
Step 0 - (Yes, I know this should have been the first step) Avoid screwing over your WoW friends by letting them know you're going to sell your account, remove yourself from any Guilds, and delete all Friends in your Friends List before you provide the buyer with your account name & password.
So you leveled your WoW toon/s to 80, got him(them) decked out in ZOMG! Epix! Pewpewpew! then you decided you wanted to sell your account and move on to WAR/LOTR (or some other MMO). The classic way to sell your account is via eBay, and contrary to what anyone might try to tell you selling your WoW account is entirely legal and totally allowed by Blizzard's TOS and EULA.
From WoW's EULA, 4.(b) Ownership - You may permanently transfer all of your rights and obligations under the License Agreement to another only by physically transferring the original media (e.g., the CD-ROM or DVD you purchased), all original packaging, and all Manuals or other documentation distributed with the Game;
and Wow's Terms of Use, 10. Security of Login Information - You are responsible for maintaining the confidentiality of the Login Information...
Blizzard give you the right to sell your copy of WoW, and while TOU 7. No Ownership Rights in Account makes it quite clear that you have no ownership rights to your account, Blizzard do make you responsible for the security of your WoW Account Info. Thus you have the right to sell your copy of the game, and you also have the right to provide someone else with your Account information.
BUT!!! (and yes, that's a big 'but') WoW's TOU 8. Account Suspension/Deletion gives Blizzard the right to suspend or delete said Account for any reason (or no reason) whatsoever. I'd say "so don't give them a reason to suspend/ban you" but it's kind of pointless when they don't even need a reason. If you agree to play their game you also agree to let Blizzard suspend/ban you at any time for any reason, or for no reason at all. That's just how deals with the devil work.
Anyway, enough with the legal mumbo jumbo, let's get on with the Guide to selling Virtual Property.
Step 1 - Create your eBay auction, listing it as WoW Online Game, inc. all CDs for both Expansions, manuals, etc, (inc. bonus lvl 80 Character) or something like that. Feel free to list the pertinent parts of WoW's EULA by which you have the right to sell your particular copy of the game as long as you transfer all media that came with the game.
Step 2 - Accept the Paypal payment. Really, Paypal is fine; trust me. If you can get a Bank/Cashier's Check that's ok too, but Paypal is your friend. NEVER accept a Personal Check but if you must, make sure it clears first. Or sell it to a Check Cashing Agency, take the 10%+ hit, and let them deal with the scammer when his check bounces.
Step 3 - Do NOT email the Buyer your Account Name & Password, seriously, and no, you're not trying to scam them either.
Step 3(a) - Use UPS, FedEx, Registered USPS, or any Certified Mail Service which provides a Tracking Number and/or Receipt Confirmation to snail-mail the CDs, Gamebox, Manuals, etc, to the Buyer. Insist on receipt confirmation. Do not email the Account Name & Password to they Buyer (yet). Ignore any threats by the Buyer to leave negative feedback on your eBay Account if you don't email them the Account Name & Password RIGHT NOW!!!
Step 4 - Get confirmation that the Buyer has received your snail mailed items. If necessary, print out this information and keep it in a secure place. This is proof that the Buyer has physically taken possession of the item you sold, and it will save your arse and money in the event of a dispute.
Step 5 - NOW you can email the Buyer your Account Name & Password. Ignore them when they say they can't log in and they want their money back. Try logging in yourself and you'll see they've already changed the password from whatever it was you set it to, and if they didn't change it they're an idiot.
Step 5(a) - Tell them you know they've logged in because they've already changed the password so they should stop being a douche bag, go play WoW and lrn2play.
Step 5(b) - Tell them the Account Name & Password work fine because you just logged in using them, and here they are again in case they typed them incorrectly. Try logging in again and you'll see they've now changed the password. Refer to Step 5(a).
Step 6 - Provide Paypal with evidence of physical proof of delivery when the douche bag tries to dispute the transaction, claiming they never received the item and they want their money back. If you'd only emailed them your Account Name & Password that might have worked and you'd have been screwed, but you sent them a physical copy of the game and you have proof that they received it. Who cares that they agreed to pay $1,000 for a copy of WoW (inc. bonus lvl 80 character)? You sold your account on eBay and avoided getting scammed. You win!
Step 7 - Fire up WAR/LOTR (or your other new MMO) and enjoy.
Step 0 - (Yes, I know this should have been the first step) Avoid screwing over your WoW friends by letting them know you're going to sell your account, remove yourself from any Guilds, and delete all Friends in your Friends List before you provide the buyer with your account name & password.
The Beginning of the End?
Or is House about to jump the shark?
Last night on the season finale Dr. House fired Dr. Chase, while Dr. Foreman and Dr. Cameron handed in their resignation.
Now the show is called House, and the X-Files was not called "Scully & Mulder" but the same principle holds true with House as it did for the X-Files. Hugh Laurie is a brilliant actor and while his dry, sarcastic wit as Dr. House is the icing, it's his interaction with his fellow staff that make the cake. Just like the X-Files fell apart when there was no more Fox Mulder (or very little of him), House would never be the same without its supporting cast. That's not to say the producers couldn't replace one actor at a time, after all, how often do real doctors stick around in general practice? Usually they want to finish their internship and go into private practice as soon as possible. House could survive the loss of one character here, one character there, etc, but for three characters to leave in one episode? That's a serious hemorrhage that would kill any show.
Fortunately the internet scuttlebutt says the three will be back next season. House avoids jumping the shark...for now.
Last night on the season finale Dr. House fired Dr. Chase, while Dr. Foreman and Dr. Cameron handed in their resignation.
Now the show is called House, and the X-Files was not called "Scully & Mulder" but the same principle holds true with House as it did for the X-Files. Hugh Laurie is a brilliant actor and while his dry, sarcastic wit as Dr. House is the icing, it's his interaction with his fellow staff that make the cake. Just like the X-Files fell apart when there was no more Fox Mulder (or very little of him), House would never be the same without its supporting cast. That's not to say the producers couldn't replace one actor at a time, after all, how often do real doctors stick around in general practice? Usually they want to finish their internship and go into private practice as soon as possible. House could survive the loss of one character here, one character there, etc, but for three characters to leave in one episode? That's a serious hemorrhage that would kill any show.
Fortunately the internet scuttlebutt says the three will be back next season. House avoids jumping the shark...for now.
Monday, May 28, 2007
A weekend in Oakland
or how I found myself with wet pants three days in a row.
Thursday I left work an hour early and arrived home at 3:30pm. I took Anzac to the Vet's/Boarding Kennel, and then we were off to Oakland for the Memorial Day weekend. For those not familiar with US geography Oakland is about 10 miles from the city of San Francisco, and about 385 miles from our house. That's about the same as driving from Melbourne (in Victoria, Australia) to Canberra (the ACT), or from London to Edinburgh. We managed to get away a little after 4pm and with a couple of stops for food and gas we arrived in Oakland shortly before midnight. Not a bad run, really.
Friday we slept in, sort of, then joined Liz's cousin Emma at her parents' flat before heading on to the San Francisco Zoo. Somehow we piled Liz's cousin, her hubby Steve, and their two little ones into our Highlander with the four of us. Lucky we have a collapsible third row in which to stuff three of the kids. We finished the day by celebrating Emma's parents' 50th Wedding Anniversary at a local Chinese Restaurant. We'd originally booked a private room but when we realized there was no way the 20+ people who were coming would sit comfortably around the large table (and it was a pretty big table), we moved out into the restaurant's public dining area and secured two large tables for everyone. While in the private room I'd had my daughter sitting on my lap, and when we got up to move I discovered the leg of my jeans was almost soaked through...right where A. had been sitting. Yup. In sort of toilet training her we've become a little lax on the diaper changes, and A's diaper had reached its absorption capacity.
After dinner Steve and his FIL took the BART home while the rest of us somehow piled in to our SUV. We were fortunate that the local Garbologists were doing their rounds at that moment, because they blocked the lane beside us allowing us to stand in that lane while we packed everyone in to our SUV. Liz, myself, our two little ones, Emma, her two little ones, her mom, and an old friend from Shanghai. That's 9 people (5 adults and 4 kiddies six & under) ...in a 7-seater SUV. I don't know how we did it either. Or why we did it. But we did, and we got everyone home safe & sound.
Saturday found us visiting the SF 6 Flags, a roller coaster amusement park...which also includes a mini zoo and aquarium, so it was actually an appropriate place to take the kids even if we never rode the roller coasters. Afterwards we went for dinner at California Pizza Kitchen and right at the end of the meal, as we were packing up our left-over food, Steve knocked over one of the glasses of water Californian waiters feel compelled to bring for everyone and ice-water ran across the table, missed their daughter (who was asleep in her stroller) and ran off the table beside her, right in my lap. I looked down at my left hip and made the observation that I'd just finished two days in a row with wet pants, but at least tonight it was just water.
Sunday we decided to take it easy and we all kicked back at Emma's parents' flat. Lucky her parents had flown off somewhere that morning so we only had 8 people in a 1 bedroom flat. Then it was decided we'd take the kids to a nearby park, it wasn't until I was standing at the elevator that I realized the "we" was Steve and myself. Liz and Emma were staying back in the flat.
The "park" Steve had picked out turned out to be a wilderness park, for hiking, fishing, swimming, etc, but not a decent place for four kids 6 & under to spend the afternoon. Lucky the Ranger directed us back down the road to a park with a playground where we spent the next couple of hours playing, swinging, watching the kids and eating ice cream when the Ice Cream Truck drove by.
When the wind began to pick up and the temperature began to drop, we called it a day, loaded the kids into our car and headed back to the flat to find lots of yummy food in various states of preparedness. The girls had taken care of the bbq ribs, but a kindly old neighbor had also prepared a lot of yummy, traditional Shanghainese-style food. I made myself a cocktail with a lime/tequila drink mixed with Sierra Mist (it was actually quite good) and kicked back on the sofa while the four kids fought all around me. Then Emma's son (the younger of her two) climbed onto the sofa and launched himself at me like he'd been doing most of the weekend. My drink splashed up in the air and came down right in my lap...on my left hip to be precise, in exactly the same place as the water from the night before and the diaper runoff from the night before that. Lucky it wasn't too much of a mess so we got everyone dried up, I poured myself another drink, settled back down on the sofa...and Emma's youngest launched himself at me once more with identical results. This time his older sister was standing right next to me so most of my second drink ended up in her hair. Phew! Emma didn't seem to amused by this though...not sure why.
Dinner, once we finally all settled down, was an uneventful affair, and before too long we were saying our goodbyes and heading back to our hotel. We were planning to get away early so this was our last visit with Emma, Steve and their little ones, this time around at least. After a leisurely Burger King (Hungry Jack's) breakfast JE and I made several trips to the car and finally we were off on our way back home. The trip back went fairly smoothly and we did the run in less than 7 hours. No wonder we almost always need vacation to recover from our vacations, even the short, 4-day ones.
Thursday I left work an hour early and arrived home at 3:30pm. I took Anzac to the Vet's/Boarding Kennel, and then we were off to Oakland for the Memorial Day weekend. For those not familiar with US geography Oakland is about 10 miles from the city of San Francisco, and about 385 miles from our house. That's about the same as driving from Melbourne (in Victoria, Australia) to Canberra (the ACT), or from London to Edinburgh. We managed to get away a little after 4pm and with a couple of stops for food and gas we arrived in Oakland shortly before midnight. Not a bad run, really.
Friday we slept in, sort of, then joined Liz's cousin Emma at her parents' flat before heading on to the San Francisco Zoo. Somehow we piled Liz's cousin, her hubby Steve, and their two little ones into our Highlander with the four of us. Lucky we have a collapsible third row in which to stuff three of the kids. We finished the day by celebrating Emma's parents' 50th Wedding Anniversary at a local Chinese Restaurant. We'd originally booked a private room but when we realized there was no way the 20+ people who were coming would sit comfortably around the large table (and it was a pretty big table), we moved out into the restaurant's public dining area and secured two large tables for everyone. While in the private room I'd had my daughter sitting on my lap, and when we got up to move I discovered the leg of my jeans was almost soaked through...right where A. had been sitting. Yup. In sort of toilet training her we've become a little lax on the diaper changes, and A's diaper had reached its absorption capacity.
After dinner Steve and his FIL took the BART home while the rest of us somehow piled in to our SUV. We were fortunate that the local Garbologists were doing their rounds at that moment, because they blocked the lane beside us allowing us to stand in that lane while we packed everyone in to our SUV. Liz, myself, our two little ones, Emma, her two little ones, her mom, and an old friend from Shanghai. That's 9 people (5 adults and 4 kiddies six & under) ...in a 7-seater SUV. I don't know how we did it either. Or why we did it. But we did, and we got everyone home safe & sound.
Saturday found us visiting the SF 6 Flags, a roller coaster amusement park...which also includes a mini zoo and aquarium, so it was actually an appropriate place to take the kids even if we never rode the roller coasters. Afterwards we went for dinner at California Pizza Kitchen and right at the end of the meal, as we were packing up our left-over food, Steve knocked over one of the glasses of water Californian waiters feel compelled to bring for everyone and ice-water ran across the table, missed their daughter (who was asleep in her stroller) and ran off the table beside her, right in my lap. I looked down at my left hip and made the observation that I'd just finished two days in a row with wet pants, but at least tonight it was just water.
Sunday we decided to take it easy and we all kicked back at Emma's parents' flat. Lucky her parents had flown off somewhere that morning so we only had 8 people in a 1 bedroom flat. Then it was decided we'd take the kids to a nearby park, it wasn't until I was standing at the elevator that I realized the "we" was Steve and myself. Liz and Emma were staying back in the flat.
The "park" Steve had picked out turned out to be a wilderness park, for hiking, fishing, swimming, etc, but not a decent place for four kids 6 & under to spend the afternoon. Lucky the Ranger directed us back down the road to a park with a playground where we spent the next couple of hours playing, swinging, watching the kids and eating ice cream when the Ice Cream Truck drove by.
When the wind began to pick up and the temperature began to drop, we called it a day, loaded the kids into our car and headed back to the flat to find lots of yummy food in various states of preparedness. The girls had taken care of the bbq ribs, but a kindly old neighbor had also prepared a lot of yummy, traditional Shanghainese-style food. I made myself a cocktail with a lime/tequila drink mixed with Sierra Mist (it was actually quite good) and kicked back on the sofa while the four kids fought all around me. Then Emma's son (the younger of her two) climbed onto the sofa and launched himself at me like he'd been doing most of the weekend. My drink splashed up in the air and came down right in my lap...on my left hip to be precise, in exactly the same place as the water from the night before and the diaper runoff from the night before that. Lucky it wasn't too much of a mess so we got everyone dried up, I poured myself another drink, settled back down on the sofa...and Emma's youngest launched himself at me once more with identical results. This time his older sister was standing right next to me so most of my second drink ended up in her hair. Phew! Emma didn't seem to amused by this though...not sure why.
Dinner, once we finally all settled down, was an uneventful affair, and before too long we were saying our goodbyes and heading back to our hotel. We were planning to get away early so this was our last visit with Emma, Steve and their little ones, this time around at least. After a leisurely Burger King (Hungry Jack's) breakfast JE and I made several trips to the car and finally we were off on our way back home. The trip back went fairly smoothly and we did the run in less than 7 hours. No wonder we almost always need vacation to recover from our vacations, even the short, 4-day ones.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
The elusive $2 bill
I got a couple of $2 bills the other day. Rather rare to get these in the U.S. because even though the Federal Reserve claims there are at least 500 million in circulation, most people who receive them tend to hoard them, thinking they're "worth something", and they are, each $2 bill is worth $2. Wow!
I've had a few pass through my hands in the years that I've been here, but I was planning to give these two to the kids until I noticed someone had used a Where's George.com stamp on them, which was rather annoying. Until I discovered that some members of the Where's George crew are actually trying to increase the number of actively circulated $2 bills (something of which I approve) by specifically requesting them from their banks, even going so far as to order them by the Strap (100 notes) or Brick (1,000 notes). Then they stamp them with the Where's George stamp which, in most people's eyes, renders them worthless as collectibles and practically forces future recipients to spend them rather than hoard them.
I was also made aware of a flawed observation of mine that U.S. cash register drawers are not set up to cater to the $2 bill when in fact they are, the drawers are just misused. Because the $2 is rarely seen most cashiers place their $20, $10, & $5 bills in the slot to the right of their intended slot, with the $5 bill occupying the slot meant for the $2 bills. This leaves an empty slot on the left which is then used for checks and coin rolls, or $50 bills which are more commonly used than the $2. I'm not sure how cashiers would handle the change and their register drawers if they began encountering $2 bills on a regular basis.
Actually that's a project (if you live in the States) that you could take on yourself, if you've got a bit of a rebellious streak in you ;) If you frequently purchase your lunch or make some other small, everyday transaction like buying your morning cup of coffee, you could order a Strap of $2 bills from your bank and use them to buy your lunch or coffee instead.
It could even be rather chaotic, initially. Imagine going to Quizno's or Subway where you place your order, they make your sandwich, and then you offer to pay for it...with $2 bills. Most cashiers should be familiar with the $2, but you just might run into someone who hasn't seen them before, and they just might be accompanied by a pimply-faced, squeaky-voiced Shift Manager who also has never seen a $2 bill. And because you're in Quizno's or Subway's your sandwich is already sitting in front of you, so you just need to pay for it. You have your Debit Card on you but they can't force you to use that. In fact you're willing to pay for your lunch, just with disturbingly new, sequentially numbered $2 bills, so the Cashier and Shift Manager have a few choices: they can grudgingly accept the notes (unlikely if they think they're fake); they can ask you for a different method of payment, a request you'll refuse so they'll ask you to leave (possible); they can give you your sandwich for free (doubtful...just yet).
The Shift Manager could also call the cops, but if they do that Store Policy will also require them to call the Store Manager or Regional Manager to report that they've called the cops. When they do that they'll inform the Store Manager or Regional Manager that they've called the cops on a customer who was attempting to pay for his or her meal with several $2 bills, and then they'll get strangely quiet, and go very red, and after they hang up they'll be very apologetic and now there's a chance you'll get today's lunch for free, maybe with chips and a soda thrown in.
The cafeteria at my office is like that. I order the food, the cooks make my food, I take my food to the cashier and pay for it. I could imagine them looking at me funny if I suddenly produce three $2 bills to pay for my lunch, although with the number of customers they serve each day I'd be surprised if they're not familiar with this "rare" bill.
Now when other customers see you using "rare" $2 bills they might think you're crazy to spend them, or even try to buy them from you. Whatever you do, don't sell them for less than $2 each :D But definitely let anyone who asks know that they, too, can order them by the Strap from their bank, especially if they want sequentially numbered bills. They might just do that in order to get uncirculated bills, and then they'll have 100 $2 bills of which they only want to save, at most, $20 worth. You've just recruited them to the cause, because now they'll spend the other $180, and that will get people talking to them about the $2 bill.
It's Fight Club's "Project Mayhem", only a more civilized, less destructive version ;)
I've had a few pass through my hands in the years that I've been here, but I was planning to give these two to the kids until I noticed someone had used a Where's George.com stamp on them, which was rather annoying. Until I discovered that some members of the Where's George crew are actually trying to increase the number of actively circulated $2 bills (something of which I approve) by specifically requesting them from their banks, even going so far as to order them by the Strap (100 notes) or Brick (1,000 notes). Then they stamp them with the Where's George stamp which, in most people's eyes, renders them worthless as collectibles and practically forces future recipients to spend them rather than hoard them.
I was also made aware of a flawed observation of mine that U.S. cash register drawers are not set up to cater to the $2 bill when in fact they are, the drawers are just misused. Because the $2 is rarely seen most cashiers place their $20, $10, & $5 bills in the slot to the right of their intended slot, with the $5 bill occupying the slot meant for the $2 bills. This leaves an empty slot on the left which is then used for checks and coin rolls, or $50 bills which are more commonly used than the $2. I'm not sure how cashiers would handle the change and their register drawers if they began encountering $2 bills on a regular basis.
Actually that's a project (if you live in the States) that you could take on yourself, if you've got a bit of a rebellious streak in you ;) If you frequently purchase your lunch or make some other small, everyday transaction like buying your morning cup of coffee, you could order a Strap of $2 bills from your bank and use them to buy your lunch or coffee instead.
It could even be rather chaotic, initially. Imagine going to Quizno's or Subway where you place your order, they make your sandwich, and then you offer to pay for it...with $2 bills. Most cashiers should be familiar with the $2, but you just might run into someone who hasn't seen them before, and they just might be accompanied by a pimply-faced, squeaky-voiced Shift Manager who also has never seen a $2 bill. And because you're in Quizno's or Subway's your sandwich is already sitting in front of you, so you just need to pay for it. You have your Debit Card on you but they can't force you to use that. In fact you're willing to pay for your lunch, just with disturbingly new, sequentially numbered $2 bills, so the Cashier and Shift Manager have a few choices: they can grudgingly accept the notes (unlikely if they think they're fake); they can ask you for a different method of payment, a request you'll refuse so they'll ask you to leave (possible); they can give you your sandwich for free (doubtful...just yet).
The Shift Manager could also call the cops, but if they do that Store Policy will also require them to call the Store Manager or Regional Manager to report that they've called the cops. When they do that they'll inform the Store Manager or Regional Manager that they've called the cops on a customer who was attempting to pay for his or her meal with several $2 bills, and then they'll get strangely quiet, and go very red, and after they hang up they'll be very apologetic and now there's a chance you'll get today's lunch for free, maybe with chips and a soda thrown in.
The cafeteria at my office is like that. I order the food, the cooks make my food, I take my food to the cashier and pay for it. I could imagine them looking at me funny if I suddenly produce three $2 bills to pay for my lunch, although with the number of customers they serve each day I'd be surprised if they're not familiar with this "rare" bill.
Now when other customers see you using "rare" $2 bills they might think you're crazy to spend them, or even try to buy them from you. Whatever you do, don't sell them for less than $2 each :D But definitely let anyone who asks know that they, too, can order them by the Strap from their bank, especially if they want sequentially numbered bills. They might just do that in order to get uncirculated bills, and then they'll have 100 $2 bills of which they only want to save, at most, $20 worth. You've just recruited them to the cause, because now they'll spend the other $180, and that will get people talking to them about the $2 bill.
It's Fight Club's "Project Mayhem", only a more civilized, less destructive version ;)
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
A Plumber at 4:30am?
Stumbling in to the bathroom at 4:30 this morning (and boy am I glad I got straight up without hitting snooze several times) I stood on the bathroom mat and immediately had wet feet. Not good. But that's what I get for not checking my handiwork the night before.
Last night I'd replaced the flapper valve and refill/flusher unit in our toilet tank, and hand-tightened the plastic nuts as per the directions, but when you're dealing with plumbing "hand-tight" is rarely tight enough.
Downstairs to the garage I went, got my multigrips, returned to our bathroom, and slowly and carefully tightened the nut connecting the water main to the tank. Then just to be sure I also tightened the nut underneath that holds the refill unit in place.
When I checked water was still slowly leaking out, very slowly, so I tightened the nut a bit more, wiped the hose and again checked for leaks, then tightened the nut a bit more, and so on. It was a slow process that took close to half an hour but eventually I was confident the water had stopped leaking, or at least confident enough to get in the shower. I think everything is good now, but I won't know for sure until tonight when I can check it out over a longer period of time.
Imagine if I'd really needed a Plumber at 4:30 in the morning, instead of being one.
Last night I'd replaced the flapper valve and refill/flusher unit in our toilet tank, and hand-tightened the plastic nuts as per the directions, but when you're dealing with plumbing "hand-tight" is rarely tight enough.
Downstairs to the garage I went, got my multigrips, returned to our bathroom, and slowly and carefully tightened the nut connecting the water main to the tank. Then just to be sure I also tightened the nut underneath that holds the refill unit in place.
When I checked water was still slowly leaking out, very slowly, so I tightened the nut a bit more, wiped the hose and again checked for leaks, then tightened the nut a bit more, and so on. It was a slow process that took close to half an hour but eventually I was confident the water had stopped leaking, or at least confident enough to get in the shower. I think everything is good now, but I won't know for sure until tonight when I can check it out over a longer period of time.
Imagine if I'd really needed a Plumber at 4:30 in the morning, instead of being one.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
The Longest Night
Saturday JE and I camped out overnight with the Boy Scouts at a local park in the foothills. Apparently the park is fenced in so you're safe from bears and other predatory nasties.
The camp's activities were supposed to commence at 3pm with a 2pm "check-in" time when you'd set up your tent, etc., but with people turning up late the activities started late and the campfire ceremony started late, so it naturally finished late which meant JE and I crawled in to our tent a little before 10:00pm. Not too bad for a Saturday night, except our Saturday nights don't normally find us camping out under the stars (protected by a layer of canvas or nylon) surrounded by young boys playing Uno and adults chatting away. I figured I'd let people play and chat until 10:30 before calling out a reminder that there were other people trying to get to sleep, but I didn't need to. The kids playing Uno were playing in the tent belonging to the talking adults, and the adults called it a night and kicked the kids out and back to their own tents before I needed to enforce my authority (assuming I had any).
Finally quiet reigned and I was able to relax and try to get comfortable enough to fall asleep on half an inch of high-density foam, which is rather hard to do in normal times (is it ever normal to try to sleep on 1/2" of high-density foam) but I've also come down with a nasty sinus cold which only compounded matters. Fortunately I'd come prepared (like all good Boy Scouts and Scout Leaders) with a supply of Sudafed and I'd taken one when we'd first crawled into our sleeping bags so I think that helped me sleep for the first few hours.
Around 2am I awoke and looked at my watch and almost shuddered at the thought of how long it still was until morning. It's not unusual for me to wake several times during the night, but I don't usually wake up with a pain in my right hip from sleeping (practically) on the hard ground. The cold was not an issue, I didn't feel cold at all, but 1/2" of foam does not provide much padding at all. I rolled over on to my left side and tried to find even a small depression to get my left hip in to. I succeeded, somewhat, and drifted off to sleep, for maybe 45 minutes. Woke up to a pain in my left hip, rolled over on to my right side and remembered that hip hurt, too. Lay on my back but it was both comfortable, and uncomfortable. It was some comfort for my hips, but not comfortable enough to sleep, just yet.
Sleep that night was nothing but a series of 30 mins naps until 5:30am when dawn broke and even though the sun didn't penetrate the layer of cloud, the sun's light still did, and light nylon is no protection against sunlight, not even the ambient variety. First came the footsteps, then the voices, and I looked at my watch to see what ungodly hour it was, then looked at JE and noticed he was awake. For the next 20 minutes I attempted to convince him to go back to sleep to no avail. I knew what he had in store for the rest of the day, but so did he; two birthday parties, and a piano recital awards ceremony and there was no way he was going back to sleep, even though he could have used the rest.
Reluctantly I let him get up and we got dressed and joined the other early morning risers. I honestly don't know how we made it through the rest of the day without a nap, but here we are, finally, at the end of a very busy weekend. Thank God I've got work tomorrow!
The camp's activities were supposed to commence at 3pm with a 2pm "check-in" time when you'd set up your tent, etc., but with people turning up late the activities started late and the campfire ceremony started late, so it naturally finished late which meant JE and I crawled in to our tent a little before 10:00pm. Not too bad for a Saturday night, except our Saturday nights don't normally find us camping out under the stars (protected by a layer of canvas or nylon) surrounded by young boys playing Uno and adults chatting away. I figured I'd let people play and chat until 10:30 before calling out a reminder that there were other people trying to get to sleep, but I didn't need to. The kids playing Uno were playing in the tent belonging to the talking adults, and the adults called it a night and kicked the kids out and back to their own tents before I needed to enforce my authority (assuming I had any).
Finally quiet reigned and I was able to relax and try to get comfortable enough to fall asleep on half an inch of high-density foam, which is rather hard to do in normal times (is it ever normal to try to sleep on 1/2" of high-density foam) but I've also come down with a nasty sinus cold which only compounded matters. Fortunately I'd come prepared (like all good Boy Scouts and Scout Leaders) with a supply of Sudafed and I'd taken one when we'd first crawled into our sleeping bags so I think that helped me sleep for the first few hours.
Around 2am I awoke and looked at my watch and almost shuddered at the thought of how long it still was until morning. It's not unusual for me to wake several times during the night, but I don't usually wake up with a pain in my right hip from sleeping (practically) on the hard ground. The cold was not an issue, I didn't feel cold at all, but 1/2" of foam does not provide much padding at all. I rolled over on to my left side and tried to find even a small depression to get my left hip in to. I succeeded, somewhat, and drifted off to sleep, for maybe 45 minutes. Woke up to a pain in my left hip, rolled over on to my right side and remembered that hip hurt, too. Lay on my back but it was both comfortable, and uncomfortable. It was some comfort for my hips, but not comfortable enough to sleep, just yet.
Sleep that night was nothing but a series of 30 mins naps until 5:30am when dawn broke and even though the sun didn't penetrate the layer of cloud, the sun's light still did, and light nylon is no protection against sunlight, not even the ambient variety. First came the footsteps, then the voices, and I looked at my watch to see what ungodly hour it was, then looked at JE and noticed he was awake. For the next 20 minutes I attempted to convince him to go back to sleep to no avail. I knew what he had in store for the rest of the day, but so did he; two birthday parties, and a piano recital awards ceremony and there was no way he was going back to sleep, even though he could have used the rest.
Reluctantly I let him get up and we got dressed and joined the other early morning risers. I honestly don't know how we made it through the rest of the day without a nap, but here we are, finally, at the end of a very busy weekend. Thank God I've got work tomorrow!
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Six degrees...
Bruce Lee starred in Enter the Dragon. His climactic fight was with...
Bolo Yeung who played the villain in Bloodsport which featured...
Donald Gibb, who played Fred "Ogre" Palowakski in Revenge of the Nerds, which included...
Anthony Edwards who played Goose in Top Gun alongside...
Tom Cruise, who appeared in A Few Good Men with...
KEVIN BACON!!!
It's true ;)
Bolo Yeung who played the villain in Bloodsport which featured...
Donald Gibb, who played Fred "Ogre" Palowakski in Revenge of the Nerds, which included...
Anthony Edwards who played Goose in Top Gun alongside...
Tom Cruise, who appeared in A Few Good Men with...
KEVIN BACON!!!
It's true ;)
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Getting too old for this shit
4:20am - alarm goes off
4:20am - actually get up instead of hitting snooze several times
4:55am - leave house
4:56am - stop at 7-11 for coffee
5:25am - arrive at Immaculate Heart of Mary 35 minutes earlier than necessary
6:00am - teacher arrives to let me in and I begin setting up the Polling Booth
7:00am - Polls open
Approx. 25 people show up throughout the day to vote or just drop off their Mail-In Ballot.
8:00pm - Polls close, begin packing up polling equipment, tallying ballots, etc
8:40pm - finish packing up and loading car. Set off for Collection Depot.
8:45pm - pull up behind a car just sitting in the right lane with no indicators but stopped outside the Collection Depot. Figure the idiot was last in line, now I am...last in line, that is, not an idiot. Turn on right indicator then decide it's not enough and engage Emergency/Hazard Lights just so idiots coming up behind me can see I'm not going anywhere.
8:46pm - idiot pulls up behind me with neither Indicator nor Emergency Lights on.
8:47pm - idiot pulls up behind other idiot. Neither is willing to use signals to inform other drivers that they have no intention of going anywhere.
8:55pm - finally enter gate of Collection Depot but still have several cars in front of me, and a lot of idiots behind me. Some idiots who pulled up at the end of the line and sat there before realizing the idiots in front of them weren't going anywhere roar past then blast their horn, as if it's our fault they're an idiot and not paying attention to traffic conditions.
9:05pm - unload polling equipment, receive receipt and we're on our way
9:20pm - drop fellow poll worker at home in downtown LA.
9:40pm - arrive home, and glad to be there. Feed the dog, kiss the wife and sleeping kids and tell them I love them.
10:00pm - fire up WoW and run around a virtual world pretending to be a Gnome Warrior. Kill a Basilisk that knocks me off my mechanical ostrich as I ride past. Kill a few of his Basilisk buddies that looked at me the wrong way, a truly petrifying experience...for someone other than Zerka! The psychotic Gnome Warrior!
12:00am - crawl into bed after deciding I don't want a black Razr V3xx enough to spend $100 on one.
4:20am - hit snooze
4:27am - hit snooze
4:34am - hit snooze, debate not going in to work
4:41am - hit snooze, debate some more
4:48am - hit snooze, Body disobeys Brain's order to get out of bed
4:55am - hit snooze. Brain kicks Body out of bed.
5:20am - pass 7-11. No time for coffee.
5:30am - catch bus, sit two rows behind Mr. Flip-Flops. Wonder if he bathed recently, perhaps when he was up Mog's way.
6:00am - Get off bus. Brain admits that we should have stayed in bed. Body says, too late now. Body spies a Starbucks. Coffee time!!! Body and Brain finally agree on something.
4:20am - actually get up instead of hitting snooze several times
4:55am - leave house
4:56am - stop at 7-11 for coffee
5:25am - arrive at Immaculate Heart of Mary 35 minutes earlier than necessary
6:00am - teacher arrives to let me in and I begin setting up the Polling Booth
7:00am - Polls open
Approx. 25 people show up throughout the day to vote or just drop off their Mail-In Ballot.
8:00pm - Polls close, begin packing up polling equipment, tallying ballots, etc
8:40pm - finish packing up and loading car. Set off for Collection Depot.
8:45pm - pull up behind a car just sitting in the right lane with no indicators but stopped outside the Collection Depot. Figure the idiot was last in line, now I am...last in line, that is, not an idiot. Turn on right indicator then decide it's not enough and engage Emergency/Hazard Lights just so idiots coming up behind me can see I'm not going anywhere.
8:46pm - idiot pulls up behind me with neither Indicator nor Emergency Lights on.
8:47pm - idiot pulls up behind other idiot. Neither is willing to use signals to inform other drivers that they have no intention of going anywhere.
8:55pm - finally enter gate of Collection Depot but still have several cars in front of me, and a lot of idiots behind me. Some idiots who pulled up at the end of the line and sat there before realizing the idiots in front of them weren't going anywhere roar past then blast their horn, as if it's our fault they're an idiot and not paying attention to traffic conditions.
9:05pm - unload polling equipment, receive receipt and we're on our way
9:20pm - drop fellow poll worker at home in downtown LA.
9:40pm - arrive home, and glad to be there. Feed the dog, kiss the wife and sleeping kids and tell them I love them.
10:00pm - fire up WoW and run around a virtual world pretending to be a Gnome Warrior. Kill a Basilisk that knocks me off my mechanical ostrich as I ride past. Kill a few of his Basilisk buddies that looked at me the wrong way, a truly petrifying experience...for someone other than Zerka! The psychotic Gnome Warrior!
12:00am - crawl into bed after deciding I don't want a black Razr V3xx enough to spend $100 on one.
4:20am - hit snooze
4:27am - hit snooze
4:34am - hit snooze, debate not going in to work
4:41am - hit snooze, debate some more
4:48am - hit snooze, Body disobeys Brain's order to get out of bed
4:55am - hit snooze. Brain kicks Body out of bed.
5:20am - pass 7-11. No time for coffee.
5:30am - catch bus, sit two rows behind Mr. Flip-Flops. Wonder if he bathed recently, perhaps when he was up Mog's way.
6:00am - Get off bus. Brain admits that we should have stayed in bed. Body says, too late now. Body spies a Starbucks. Coffee time!!! Body and Brain finally agree on something.
Monday, May 14, 2007
Using the BMI may not be healthy
Not too long ago we had a health seminar at work, where you could talk to various health professionals about various health issues, and even get your Body Fat Percentage calculated. So I'm 37-years old, 5'11", 205 pounds (a little less, now) and after all the measurements were taken it was determined I had 21.0% Body Fat. My weight for my height meant my BMI was 28.6 and this is where things took a strange turn. At 21% Body Fat, I easily fell well within the "Acceptable" Ranges for Men, being 18 to 25% Body Fat. My 28.6 BMI is a whole different story, but that's because the BMI is as outdated as your grandmother's giant panties, which can double as a duvet in winter. A 28.6 BMI for a 5'11" male is considered overweight, in fact it's bordering on the obese. Anyone who knows me would say there's no way I'm borderline obese.
I'll admit I could lose a few more pounds, but in order for my weight to fall within the "BMI's Healthy Weight" range for my height I need to get down to under 175 lbs. I have not weighed 175 lbs since I was about 15 years old. The really crazy thing with the BMI is I could weigh 140 lbs and I would still fall within the healthy range. Trust me, if my weight fell below 170 it would not be healthy, and even at 175 I'd probably have people wondering if I have cancer.
If you're one of those wirey people with a slight frame the BMI Tables are possibly one tool (of several) you could use to determine how healthy you are. For people with average or large frames feel free to ignore the BMI, and instead know that if you're a woman and your Body Fat is in the 25% to 31% range, that's apparently "acceptable", whereas Men need to stay a little leaner and keep their Body Fat under 25%, if not around 20%.
I'll admit I could lose a few more pounds, but in order for my weight to fall within the "BMI's Healthy Weight" range for my height I need to get down to under 175 lbs. I have not weighed 175 lbs since I was about 15 years old. The really crazy thing with the BMI is I could weigh 140 lbs and I would still fall within the healthy range. Trust me, if my weight fell below 170 it would not be healthy, and even at 175 I'd probably have people wondering if I have cancer.
If you're one of those wirey people with a slight frame the BMI Tables are possibly one tool (of several) you could use to determine how healthy you are. For people with average or large frames feel free to ignore the BMI, and instead know that if you're a woman and your Body Fat is in the 25% to 31% range, that's apparently "acceptable", whereas Men need to stay a little leaner and keep their Body Fat under 25%, if not around 20%.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Tipping
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
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
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.
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