as told to (your name here)

More than 4% improvement over last time

2012-01-26T23:08:00.002-06:00

Maddest of mad props to anyone who knows what the title of this post means.

Totally unrelated, 3 more deceased and, as before, 2 painlessly and 1 not so much. Still not feeling too badly about it.

I noticed that a lot of so-called designers on HGTV say that a particular style is "shabby chic." There's nothing chic about a beat up piece of furniture falling apart in my living room. And you can't just dress something up by adding 'chic' at the end. If you could, I think you'd see a lot of designers from Alabama bringing "trailer-park chic" to trendy boutiques. And the upper midwest would be the epicenter of "racist chic." I still hate Illinois nazis.

I think it's unfair that women can fart from their vagine but guys can't do the same from their genitalia. If I could, I'd use it to blow up balloons.

Of the winter solstice

2011-12-21T22:50:00.003-06:00

I hadn't thought about the connection to today, the shortest day/longest night of our northern hemisphere world, until literally a moment ago. The ancients celebrated it as the death of the sun, followed by the birth of a new sun, so it makes sense. What I did think about was how, after leaving the church, I thought buddhism was the answer for me. They both say don't kill, but I killed. Thrice in two days. It didn't bring me any pleasure to kill them but I consoled myself with necessity and how it was self-defense, in a way. Obi-Wan said that many of the truths we cling to depend greatly on our own point of view. The trilogy is full of buddhist concepts. But buddhism, like the trilogy, is also full of supernatural fantasy, which I eventually decided didn't fit me either. Two of them died quickly, as far as I could tell, and without any additional effort on my part. The other did not, as Dylan Thomas would have you, go gentle into that good night. "Rage, rage against the dying of the light." By my hand that light was snuffed.

Song on my mind, aboard a southwest train 5300 miles from home

2011-12-03T11:49:00.005-06:00

When the rain is blowing in your face,

And the whole world is on your case,
I could offer you a warm embrace
To make you feel my love.

When the evening shadows and the stars appear,
And there is no one there to dry your tears,
I could hold you for a million years
To make you feel my love.

I know you haven’t made your mind up yet
But I would never do you wrong.
I’ve known it from the moment that we met
No doubt in my mind where you belong.

I’d go hungry, I’d go black and blue,
I’d go crawling down the avenue.
There’s nothing that I wouldn’t do
To make you feel my love.

The storms are raging on the rollin’ sea,
And on the highway of regret
The winds of change are blowing wild and free.
You ain’t seen nothing like me yet.

I could make you happy, make your dreams come true.
Nothing that I wouldn’t do.
Go to the ends of the earth for you
To make you feel my love.

Current events

2011-09-20T09:07:00.002-05:00

Photo: Pakistani investigators inspect the crater caused by a car bomb

AFP: Rizwan Tabussum

I think that picture is useless without knowing what the place looked like before the bomb. Am I supposed to believe that this wasn't already a burned-up shithole? That there was a white picket fence and a perfectly manicured lawn off of which the owner/intended victim would run out and yell at the neighborhood children, "Quit playing 'kick-the-chinese-made-type-59-anti-personnel-landmine' in my yard!" A little 'before & after' context, please.

I am tired of wars that destroy stuff of no value. Still, I think the taliban should apologize for wrecking this man's dirt.

We are experiencing technical difficulties

2011-07-07T12:13:00.001-05:00

Pardon the delay.
Last week, my computer crashed like it hasn't crashed in YEARS. I'm talking old-school blue screen of death. I pride myself on having set up my computer in such a way that recovering from a system crash is pretty easy and I shouldn't have to worry about my data. But the BSOD is unusual and got me flustered so I panicked. My attempts to restore the system only made it worse and I did wind up losing some stuff. Stuff that I wouldn't have lost if I had remained calm. Not everything (the pr0n is ok), but there was effort involved in what was lost - a sold week's worth of photoshopping photos that I hadn't backed-up. The originals are ok, so it's back to square one now that I've got my basic platform restored. And come to find out, the blue screen was caused by a Microsoft update patch. I blithely clicked "ok" without reading it when they told me it was an important patch. I'm sure there are some famous quotes out there on complacency, but I don't really care to google them.

Vacation debrief, part 1

2011-06-24T01:10:00.001-05:00

It was barely a year ago that I renewed my passport and packed a bag, headed for 3 weeks in Vietnam. I make no secret of my love of the far east. That last sentence sounded better in my head, since it implies that one might want to keep such an affection private. Mom, dad, I'm coming out of the black lacquer wardrobe: I love East Asia. (See, isn't that silly?) I have felt more at home there than in my own bed, so perhaps I was asian in a former life. Unfortunately, I don't really believe in past lives, so that probably isn't it, but that doesn't mean that something about the orient doesn't resonate with me. Vietnam always intrigued me, and the travel shows made it look really quaint and hospitable. (Ha!) When Tattoo-girl came along, who is of Vietnamese descent, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to check it out. Except that she wasn't interested. I wore her down though, and the trip last year was a little bit about exploring and experiencing her roots.

My own ancestry is far less exotic, in my opinion. I think I'm like most people in that I associate my ancestral identity with that of my father and his father and his father, and so on. Family research has shown that my oldest known patrilineal ancestor came to Louisiana from Europe around 1720, making me an eigth-generation American. Wait, do you count from the first guy or the first guy to be born here? Does it matter that the guy born in Europe died in America but before it was the United States? Well, however you count it, my 6th-Great Grandfather was the guy on the boat and since he didn't come to Lousiana from Canada that makes me creole, not cajun. I had heard my grandmother say this once and it didn't register with me at the time because I had always associated creole with Caribbean creole, which implies African descent. I just thought I knew more about authentic Lousiana cuisine than anyone who dumped a whole tin of cayenne pepper into a pot and called it cajun food. It's not as important anymore, but once upon a time it was a big deal and being creole was much more preferable than cajun. Creole, as applied in Lousiana, is a word derived from Spanish meaning 'colonist' (not just French, but Spanish and even German) and was therefore used by people who considered themselves more "pure European" than those who intermarried with Native Americans or Africans. America prides itself on that phrase about all men being equal, but the vast majority of us are descended from societies that clung (some of which still cling) to class distinctions and old habits die hard. As proof, every few years, one political party or another trots out the class warfare card and more often than not we play right into it. Three of my ancestors fought in the American Revolution under the Spanish flag of Galvez and yes, a few of them owned a slave or two and fought on the wrong side of the Civil War. But this is also not an entry about slavery or guilt. I don't condone it, I merely understand it in context and we can discuss it later if you'd like.

So where did that first old coonass come from, anyway? Records indicate that he came from Flanders, once an independent region but now mostly coastal Belgium (including Brussels) with a little bit of northeastern France and southwestern Holland. Unfortunately, Flanders is about the same size as Maryland, so one can't just show up and expect to find his ancestral village and distant cousins. To my knowledge, my family has never claimed to descend from royalty, so it was just some anonymous patch of dirt (probably owned by someone else) that Great^6 Granddad walked away from. Nevertheless, I decided that I wanted to go see it and that I wanted to drag Tattoo-girl there too.

Where I was

2011-06-21T23:46:00.000-05:00

Top 10 U.S. Cities

2011-04-21T23:43:00.001-05:00

There was a story on the radio one recent morning that listed the Top 10 Cities in America for something or other. Like you, I got to wondering which cities appear most often on Top 10 lists, so I've compiled a list...

Top 10 U.S. Cities appearing on Top 10 U.S. Cities lists

10.
7. (tie)

5. (tie)

3. (tie)

2.
1.

- Dallas, TX
- Austin, TX
- Boston, MA
- Houston, TX
- San Francisco, CA
- Seattle, WA
- Los Angeles, CA
- New York, NY
- Chicago, IL
- Washington, DC

These were the results from 21 recent surveys (source: internet) including, but not limited to:
- Top 10 cities with new hotel rooms
- Top 10 wettest cities
- Top 10 cities to find a job after the military
- Top 10 miserable cities
- Top 10 happiest cities
- Top 10 cities to find a pet sitter
- Top 10 largest credit card debtor cities

And I know you're going to want the rest of the data, so here are the other cities that made one of the Top 10 Cities lists that I sourced:
11. (tie) Atlanta, Miami, Philadelphia, Portland
15. (tie) Cleveland, Denver, San Diego, San Jose
19. (tie) Boulder, Canton, Detroit, Fayetteville, Honolulu, Las Vegas, Madison, Minneapolis, Nashville, New Orleans, Orlando, Pensacola, Phoenix, Salt Lake City, San Antonio, Tucson
35. (tie) Albuquerque, Ames, Anchorage, Asheville, Athens, Bakersfield, Baton Rouge, Bellevue, Berkeley, Buffalo, Burlington, Cambridge, Charleston, Charlotte, Charlottesville, Cheyenne, Cincinatti, College Station, Colorado Springs, Columbia, Des Moine, Duluth, Eden Prairie, El Paso, Eugene, Fishers, Flagstaff, Flint, Fort Collins, Fort Worth, Fresno, Hanford, Harrisburg, Holland, Huntsville, Jackson, Jacksonville (FL), Jacksonville (NC), Jersey City, Lafayette, Lake Charles, McKinney, Memphis, Milwaukee, Mobile, Naperville, Newton, Oakland, Ogden, Oklahoma City, Olympia, Overland Park, Oxnard, Pittsburg, Port Arthur, Providence, Provo, Raleigh, Rochester, Rogers,
Sacramento, San Angelo, San Louis Obispo, Santa Barbara, Santa Rosa, St. Louis, Stockton, Tallahassee, Tampa, Toledo, Topeka, Visalia, W. Hartford, W. Palm Beach, Waco, Wilmington, Winston-Salem, Youngstown

Congratulations to ALL the winners.

What to do if a Somali warlord goes to your gym

2011-04-12T23:24:00.003-05:00

Somali warlords are dicks. Not only do they hog the machines, but they leave them all sweaty & gross afterwards. Seriously, would it kill them to mix it up with a little cardio on any of the 15 available ellipticals? Plus, when they move into your neighborhood, the price of recreational drugs usually goes up. (Ed. note: victimless crime) But they are for-real criminals too, so here are some tips for getting rid of them...

1. Unless your gym is outside the confines of the US, do not call the CIA. Inside the US, you have to call the FBI. Do not call your local Police or Sheriff's department. More than likely, they don't know where Somalia is and will arrest you for reporting what they think is a World of Warcraft character.

2. Confirm that the individual is in fact a Somali warlord. The FBI hates a false alarm and one incorrect accusation is usually all it takes to get you on their "Boy who cried Wolf" list and then they won't take you seriously should you happen to spot DB Cooper at the grocery store or Mormon polygamists buying Ikea meatballs. (yum!) Steps for correctly identifying Somali warlords:

a. Is he a big, black guy? If yes, then chances are good that he's a Somali warlord, but this is not what's known in the law-enforcement community as positive ID.
b. Does he refuse to use the fingerprint ID system at the gym entrance?
c. Does the towel-guy refer to him as Colonel, but instead of pronouncing it Kerr-nell he says Coll-o-nell?
d. Subtly drop references to your friend (always use the buddy system, plus he can spot you for bench presses) about the movie Black Hawk Down and how much you hate the ending [SPOILER ALERT] where all the Marines get rescued. If you notice that he's nodding in agreement, he's probably a Somali warlord.

3. Distract him and lure him into a smaller training room away from his henchmen. Remember Somali warlords are often muslims, so the standard lure of a free ham sandwich is not likely to work. This doesn't need to be complicated though. If you get access to the gym's PA system, you can make an announcement that the UN shipment of food and medical supplies is being delivered to the yoga studio immediately after Zumba class. The opportunity to steal a UN shipment of food and medical supplies is too tempting for any Somali warlord to pass up. Timing your ruse for after Zumba class also minimizes the chance of innocent bystanders getting hurt and/or used as human shields.

4. Subdue him, but do not use guns. Although the weapon of choice for most Somali warlords is the AK-47, they are known to sometimes carry rocket launchers. The M72 LAW, for example, folds up and can be concealed in a gym bag. Do not be unprepared though, as hand combat is your best choice and likely to escape the notice of gym officials as "sparring." Krav Maga is an excellent choice. The details of this step will have to be up to you to determine, since that's not really my thing. (Ed. note: He's a lover, not a fighter)

5. Once your Somali warlord is out of commission you can safely call the authorities. Tying him up with a jump rope may call attention to the fact that you're tying a dude up in the yoga room and you may not want that kind of reputation. Instead, use resistance bands which have the added bonus of looking, to the casual observer, like a one-on-one training session. The henchmen (see step 3) will flee once their leader has been corralled, so there's nothing left to worry about.

6. Call the FBI and collect your reward! (Ed. note: This is not a promise of reward or compensation, offer void in the US)

ick!

2011-04-05T12:09:00.002-05:00

I hate it when the automatic toilet flusher goes off and I'm still sitting there. What, like I don't exist anymore? That would seem to prove the nonexistence of self. When I wash my hands under the automatic faucet, I've demonstrated dependent arising. Not that they aren't both fundamentals of emptiness.

Hmm, if vampires can't see their reflection in a mirror, can they use automatic hand-dryers? (ed.: Buddha never mentioned vampires) I bet they walk into a lot of automatic doors too. That must suck, because I know how embarassing it is. And then you jump up and down, waving your arms trying to activate it. But if I could kill everyone who witnessed it, it would suck a little less.

sigh

2011-03-25T13:31:00.002-05:00

Over the past few weeks I had been collecting thoughts that made me laugh and I wanted to share them with you. But the tsunami came at kind of bad time for me. Natural disasters are inconsiderate like that, I suppose, and before you know it a self-immolation joke isn't as funny as it used to be.

I've been preparing for the next trip abroad. I had JUST clicked 'submit' on the order for my new camera when the phone rang from a contractor to tell me that he wanted an additional $1500. That set off a shitstorm of yelling, fraud allegations, and lawyers (ok, one lawyer) that I used to sleep with.

Something cool did happen recently though: I received a warning letter from my ISP about illegally sharing copyrighted content. Rather than shut it all down, I did the obvious and began using my neighbor's wifi for the illegal stuff. I may be a criminal, but I'm not a leech. One recent, overcast morning, while setting up my laptop in the 38th-floor window of a downtown high-rise, I noticed the sun shining through a break in the clouds, illuminating a small patch of the neighborhood below. It was exactly like the maproom scene in Raiders. The dot of light moving across the tiny buildings paused briefly to shine on the Federal Reserve Bank, which must be a sign, since that's where the gold is. I'm not worried about nazis, I just hope it's not protected by snakes.

You've got a 6th toe on your left foot? On the right?

2011-02-24T23:23:00.001-06:00

Although I watch a lot of TV, and by a lot I mean a LOT, I always make time to read before turning out the lights. What passes for non-fiction on TV is garbage (hello, History Channel, I'm talking to you) so I gravitate to the sitcoms. For example, I'm downright giddy that Californication is back in its 4th season. Not that I'm unhappy about Top Gear coming back for it's 16th. But when it comes to books, I don't know, I just can't go for fiction unless it's funny. I was only moderately imaginative as child and though I'm still very childish I like to think I'm still imaginative. When people ask me to Guess What? I take it as a challenge. I just lost my taste for fictional literature along the way, including losing my belief in the supernatural. I've been around for a while now and seen some pretty incredible stuff. For a time, I barely engaged my senses, but I have seen the light. To fully experience the beauty the world has to offer takes all five senses. I can't help but think that if there was a sixth, especially the ability to read other people's minds, it would all become ugly again.

A day late

2011-02-15T23:33:00.002-06:00

"There is indeed a peculiar charm, both in friendship and in Eros, about those moments when Appreciative love lies, as it were, curled up asleep, and the mere ease and ordinariness of the relationship (free as solitude, yet neither is alone) wraps us round. No need to talk. No need to make love. No needs at all except perhaps to stir the fire."

- C. S. Lewis

Let's just talk about the weather

2011-02-10T08:51:00.002-06:00

Another wintery front came through town yesterday. It's downright cold, for the South anyway. The brisk north wind is somewhat invigorating. It makes me want to lace up my sneakers and go running.

Running, however, makes me want to stop.

8 pictures of Halong Bay

2011-02-02T19:05:00.007-06:00

6 pictures of Hanoi

2011-01-13T23:24:00.006-06:00

8 pictures of Hue

2010-12-05T10:43:00.007-06:00

8 pictures bonus: From Da Nang to Hue

2010-11-25T10:45:00.009-06:00

8 pictures of Hoi An

2010-11-12T17:48:00.010-06:00

6 pictures of Nha Trang

2010-11-02T23:32:00.009-05:00

8 pictures of Dalat

2010-10-16T10:42:00.013-05:00

8 pictures of Saigon

2010-09-16T17:56:00.007-05:00

The end of the trip

2010-08-25T17:37:00.001-05:00

I've been in a funk, but if Zelda can blog again, I can too. The weather here in Houston has been brutal. Judging by what I've seen on TV, it's been brutal where you live too. The economy and its impact on my income has been depressing as well. It's been really hard for me to care about anything, which has put a bit of a strain on the relationship with tattoo-girl. But I finished my extreme patio makeover project two weekends ago and am pretty happy with the results. I've got before & after photos, if I ever get around to posting photos of anything ever again. But I should finish what I started and tell you about the last few days of my vacation. I'm just going to barrel through this to get it over with, so it's long and a bit rambling. I won't be offended if you don't read the whole thing.

If you're planning to go to Hanoi, don't go on a Monday. All the museums and temples are closed. It was kind of unavoidable for my trip, so it turned out to be a whole day of shopping. I managed to find a map for my collection and we got the last of the gifts we needed for friends & family. I collect old (antique) maps of the places I visit and I've now filled a large wall of my townhome with framed reminders of my vacations. In Vietnam, it was extremely difficult to explain what I was looking for. Nobody understood that I wanted an antique map because, to them, if I looked at it, I would get lost trying to find my way around. The idea that it might be art was lost on them.

Tuesday morning we got picked up by the van from Paloma Cruises, a tour operator with whom I had pre-arranged transportation. We dashed around Hanoi picking up three other couples, then headed east out of town to the coast. Just a few minutes out of town we got stuck in a traffic jam for nearly an hour. Another hour later we stopped at the halfway point to stretch our legs and (hopefully, they thought) buy stuff from the factory for disabled persons. Vietnam is like China in this regard: If you arrange a tour with a local tour operator, you will be brought to a shop from whom the tour operator gets a kickback. The drive from Hanoi to Halong City was interesting, since I got to see more of 'rural' Vietnam. From the safe, air-conditioned confines of the van, it looks like a pretty tough place to live. We passed through the town from which tattoo-girl's father is said to hail. I snapped photos, she shrugged. Halong City was not the destination either though, and we passed through town down to docks. It looks like a cute little seaside town though.

We boarded a boat tender and porters slung our luggage. Our little boat puttered out of the "marina" (a loose interpretation if ever there was one) and into Halong Bay proper. Cruise operators here work a little differently than your typical Carnival cruise, but it's not a bad operation. Each ship has two tenders, one that operates between the ship and the marina, and another used during the day while the ship is being restocked. As the tender approached the ship, we were blown away by how cool this Chinese-style junk really was. Only 4-decks tall (if you include the open-air topdeck) with only 16-cabins, this is an "intimate" experience. After getting settled and receiving our complimentary drink (the one and only free drink onboard) the ship puttered out, leaving civilization behind. I can't say we left "land" behind because Halong Bay is dotted with thousands of little islands. It defies description, so if you can't wait for me to upload pictures, go to flickr.

We had lunch onboard the ship which was still cruising away from the mainland. A few hours later, the ship slowed and we all boarded the tender for the first afternoon's activity. The tender delivered us to one of the floating fishing villages that dot the bay. These villages are little more than a dozen shacks atop floating platforms, lashed together. The villagers spend the majority of their lives here, fishing and trading, never going on solid ground. This particular village was part of a pearl farming operation, so there was, of course, a hard sales pitch for pearl jewelry. From the village, we transfered into even smaller rafts for a tour around a few of the nearby islands, rowed by the local women (girls, really). Our rower was barely 90 pounds and couldn't have been more than 17 years old, but she maneuvered our little boat expertly around the islands and into a few of the naturally formed caves. She didn't speak English, so there was no real conversation. Tattoo-girl asked her a few questions about the bay (how deep, etc) in Vietnamese, but the girl wasn't very talkative. The whole experience was fun, but we felt a little guilty about this tiny girl doing all the work (also the reason why we never took rickshaws in the cities). Back on board the ship, a brief eggroll rolling demonstration, then a 7-course dinner that was among the best we had in the country. Unfortunately, it was probably 90-degrees in the dining room and the crew pretended not to understand us pointing at the air-conditioning units and sweating all over everything. After dinner we quickly retreated to our cabin, which had separate a/c more than adequate to cool us off. I went back out after dinner to do a little star gazing and did a little squid-fishing off the back of the boat with the crew, but I didn't catch anything. Our cabin was tight, but comfortable and we slept well.

The next day, we boarded the tender as the ship sailed back to the mainland to drop off yesterday's passengers and pick up today's and more supplies. The tender took us to a different village where we then boarded kayaks and did the paddling ourselves. As we paddled out of this village, the little children came out to cheer us on. Tattoo-girl later told us that, in additional to shouting "hello" (the only English word they knew) they were also calling us "fatty." Kayaking was incredible, as we went into a cave that passed through an island and opened up to a hidden cove, only accessible at low tide. We paddled around for a couple of hours, sweating and burning, but still marveling at the scenery. We eventually made it back to the tender, which then set off across the bay in search of a lunch spot. In an L-shaped crook of islands, we found a private and secluded beach. There were 3 couples, our tour guide, and two other crew members. The guide and crew set up a table & chairs right on the beach and proceeded to grill up an awesome, multi-course lunch of fresh seafood. Before and after, we swam in the emerald green water, picking shells out of the sand with our toes. After lunch, the tide was rising and our beach was disappearing. We helped the crew pack everything back on the tender and by the time we got everything stowed, our private beach was gone. Then began a long, slow cruise back to where the ship would be meeting us for the evening. Another fantastic multi-course dinner, though not quite as hot as the previous one, and we passed out in our cabin.

Our last day aboard the ship, and our last day in the country, started (after breakfast) with us transferring to the tender again, this time to visit a large natural cavern in one of the larger islands of the bay. This involved a little hiking and stair-climbing, but the views did not disappoint. Back to the ship for lunch and to pack, then the tender took us back to the marina, where the vans were waiting to take us back to Hanoi, after the requisite stop for shopping again.

Tattoo-girl and I could have stowed our luggage and had one more evening in Hanoi, but we really weren't interested. Hanoi had been a pretty big disappointment for us, so we were just as happy to go to the airport and wait for our departing flight. The first leg of the trip home was an overnight flight from Hanoi to Tokyo, with a 9-hour layover. This wasn't unintentional, since I wanted to take the train into the city and have another look around. I was in Tokyo in 2002 and thoroughly enjoyed it, so I was looking forward to sharing it with someone else. We arrived around 6am and breezed through customs. We took the express train to the city and the difference between 1st-world and 3rd-world asia couldn't be more obvious. Tokyo Station was a lot bigger than I remembered, but when we finally made it to street level, we emerged to 70-degree weather under bluebird skies, another HUGE difference from Vietnam. From the street, looking back at Tokyo Station, I noticed that construction completely covered the Marunouchi side of the building, obscuring the beautiful red-brick Victorian facade! Additionally, the East Garden to the Imperial Palace was closed on Friday, so one of my favorite places in the world was off-limits. Stunned by both of these fails, we walked around the perimeter of the palace a bit too long, wasting valuable time. We rode the subway line around town a bit but our layover was over all too quickly. We grabbed some dumplings to go at an enormous underground grocery store for lunch and headed back to the airport. I regret not having planned this part of the trip at all.

Neither tattoo-girl or I loved our trip to Vietnam. It was hot, dirty, and generally uncomfortable. We never felt unsafe or ripped off, but it just didn't live up to our expectations, which is nobody's fault but our own, I suppose, for having such expectations in the first place. When we first came home, we actually kind of hated it. But the more time that passes, the more we're both able to appreciate how unique and exotic it really was. Most tourists that we met were going from North to South, but I think our South to North itinerary was better. Saigon is an easier place to "ease into" than I think Hanoi would have been, and by the time we got to Hanoi we were a little more hardened. However, I freely admit that I tried to cram too much into the trip and that 3 weeks was just too long at one go. I thought my "sampler platter" was a pretty good approach, but that didn't turn out well. We should have focussed on one or two cities, saving the rest for another later trip. We did not enjoy our time in Hoi An or Hanoi, and were so-so about Hue. We enjoyed and would recommend Nha Trang, Dalat, and Halong Bay. Saigon is the lesser of two evils for getting into and out of the country.

But will there be other trips to Vietnam? Again, if you asked me when I first came home, I would have said absolutely not. Now, there is a distinct possibility. Personally, I would prefer to see the rest of the world first, before returning to places that I loved, let alone those I merely tolerated. But tattoo-girl's elderly father has decided that he wants to move back to Vietnam to die there and has been making arrangements towards that end. Should my relationship with her continue, I foresee a trip to bury / pay respects to him.

Up next: The photos I've been promising for over 2 months...

ENOUGH! (actual)

2010-06-23T15:39:00.001-05:00

June 1: I titled the scheduled-entry at the end of my stay in Hanoi as a joke, but it turned out to be quite accurate. We arrived in Hanoi much earlier than originally planned because of the switch from 13-hour train to 1-hour flight. Our hotel was accommodating, as has been the case throughout Vietnam, but the room was not ready. They held our bags and we set off to see Hoa Lo Prison, aka The Hanoi Hilton.

Hoa Lo prison was built by the French during the colonial period and was originally used to punish Vietnamese insurrectionists. Because of this, most of the displays are about how tough living conditions were for them, how they were tortured by the French, and their valiant struggle to survive and overcome. There are several rooms with nothing but names on the walls of former inmates and the years in which they were imprisoned. I'm telling you, those Communists love their martyrs. Also on display is Senator John McCain's flight suit and other personal effects, but there isn't too much about the American War here. Most of the prison has been demolished and replaced by a modern office building, but part of the deal was to preserve the remainder as a museum. And much of what they preserved tells a pretty grim tale.

The next day, we got up early and took a cab over to see Ho Chi Minh, Uncle Ho himself. Contrary to his wishes, Ho's body was embalmed (he wanted to be cremated) and is now on display 6 days a week in a huge marble museum. You can only get in to see him between 8 and 11:30am, and since it was Sunday, we tried to get there early. The line, when we arrived, was at least a mile long. I'm not a good judge of distance, so it easily could have been two miles as it snaked around and down several city blocks. This is where we got our first taste of how rude Hanoians would be. Just after we got in line, a woman jumped the rope in front of me and proceeded to then usher her entire family into line with her. I asked her, in English, if she would like to invite the rest of the city to cut in front of us, but she didn't understand. When her son translated for her, she turned around and smiled/laughed at me (according to tattoo-girl) but I didn't see it. I probably would have punched her in the ovaries if I had. The next bit had to do with the baggage-check station, where backpacks and purses had to be dropped off for pickup after viewing the body. There is no order to this process however, so people would push and shove their way to the dropoff window. I managed to elbow several people trying to elbow me out of the way. One woman was trying to check-in a plastic shopping bag full of fruit. When it was obvious that she wasn't going to get her body in front of me, she tried reaching it over my shoulder, hitting me in the head several times. I gave her a very loud verbal chastise, but to do any more would have given the others room to push in front of me. Total, absolute, goddamn chaos. Back in the main line, people continue to try to circumvent the line, pushing forward. The only conclusion to be reached is that Hanoians are the rudest fucking people on the planet. This conclusion is shared by everyone I've ever met who knows anything about Vietnam. Talking to local shopkeepers (not to mention tattoo-girl's family) here at home before the trip, we were warned that the North sucks and we'd hate it. We were beginning to agree.

After that fun, after about an hour and a half of standing outside in the heat (although slightly less hot due to a slight drizzle, but still humid, duh), we were allowed into the mausoleum to see Uncle Ho. The air conditioning is cranked WAY up in here since it is, after all, a refrigerator for a guy who has been dead for 40 years. Soldiers with AK-47s keep the line moving, so the total time in here is less than a minute. Ho is laying down inside a glass enclosure with dim lighting. There are slightly yellowish spotlights on his hands, feet, and face. The effect of the lighting on his waxy, embalmed skin, combined with the drab clothing and dim lighting really makes him look like a hologram. Kinda cool but a major anticlimax after doing battle and standing in line.

We then went over to the Temple of Literature, which is where doctoral students would take their final exams long ago before being allowed to serve the emperor, government, etc. Now it is just a collection of large (6-foot tall) stone tablets upon which the names of those who passed their exams are enscribed. There is a similar museum in Xi'an, China, except that the Chinese tablets are more protected than the Vietnamese ones. It is apparently common practice for Vietnamese students to come here and touch each of the stone tablets for good luck. Unfortunately, touching these things DESTROYS them. The oil and dirt from hands erodes the stone much faster than would happen naturally so, once again, a precious piece of Vietnamese history is disappearing. There were hundreds of schoolchildren of all ages running around, screaming, touching everything they could get their grubby little hands on, so we looked around pretty quickly and left in disgust.

More reality

2010-06-15T15:32:00.001-05:00

Photo: One of the most common questions asked is, did we eat dog? No, but this puppy looks good.

May 27th - Leaving Hoi An behind, we got a ride back to Danang but this time to the train station. We didn't spend any time in Danang and after passing through the city, didn't regret that decision. Tattoo-girl was born in Danang, but wasn't really even interested in looking out the window. When we passed a large hospital in the center of town I remarked that she might have been born there. She nodded with a shrug. She has lived her entire conscious life in Houston and doesn't feel any connection to the country of her birth. To her, Vietnam is just a hot, dirty place where people speak the same language she does (at home).

We took the train over the central mountains, from Danang to Hué, but the trip was longer than advertised. For one thing, the train was at least 30 minutes late, closer to 45. For another, the non-stop train stopped several times. I thought asian communists (or are they communist asians?) ran on a tighter schedule. The only other train I've been on, other than the PATH between New Jersey & Manhattan, was in France so my experience is somewhat limited, but the SE6 train from Danang to Hué was a pretty bumpy, noisy, smelly affair. It was tolerable to me, but tattoo-girl sat on her bunk on the verge of tears again, with a wet-wipe over her face. Part of the problem was just being hot & tired, despite our compartment being air conditioned, albeit lightly. The other problem was that the restroom, shared for all compartments on our car, was right next to our compartment: It was not what one might call "clean." Further compounding the issue was that every time the train went through a tunnel, the diesel fumes would back up into the cars, making me a little nauseated as well. We shared our 4-bunk compartment with a 20-something (maybe late teens?) Vietnamese couple, both of whom had iPads and kept quiet for the entire trip. The guy also had a professional-level Nikon with some serious glass, but he was way too young & immature to have actually been a professional photographer. More than likely, they live in America and spend their summer(s) in Vietnam with family. The view out the windows was heart-stopping, both beautiful and frightening at times, but I enjoyed it. Tattoo-girl describes both the train and Danang station as "disgusting" but it really wasn't that bad. Upon arriving in Hué, she resolved to discard the tickets we'd already purchased for the trip 2 days from now for the train from Hué to Hanoi. Our hotel in Hué arranged for us to fly instead, and it was actually cheaper than the flights I had bought from home. I had expected to get hit with a huge "last-minute" penalty.

Arriving at the Hué train station was easy and we found a taxi to take us to our hotel. Hué is a very attractive, smaller city with an ancient past. We had a suite with a view of the river for $35/night. That night, the streets were ablaze with hundreds of tiny fires as it was the night before the Buddha's Birthday, called Le Phat Dan in Vietnamese. The next morning, we arranged for a private car & driver to take us to the Emperor's Tombs, the Citadel/Forbidden City, and Thien Mu Pagoda. We saw 3 different emperor's tombs, including the tomb of the last emperor's father (the last emperor is buried in Paris). With the exception of the newest one, the tombs and citadel were in a pretty sorry state of repair. Although the guidebooks and plaques suggest that this is due to the Americans dropping ton after ton of ordinance on the country, I think that the Vietnamese people just don't care enough about their history to repair or maintain anything. They tell stories about their glorious history, ousting the Chinese, French, and Americans, but the respect that the average citizen shows for historical monuments tells another story. There is not a pond, well, moat, or other historic hole in the ground that doesn't have at least one plastic water bottle and several plastic bags floating in it. Historic sites in Vietnam are either crumbling, poorly restored, or over-restored. It's not uncommon to read something such as the following at a temple:

A temple was originally built on this site in the year 1400. From 1420 to 1700, this temple was the most prestigious center of Confucian learning in the Annam empire. The current building dates to 2006.

Thien Mu Pagoda was just ok. The view of the nearby Perfume River is much better than the temple itself. The monks were chanting when we got there and there was a lot of joss (incense) burning for Le Phat Dan. As with other sites, the Vietnamese visitors were not terribly respectful of what was going on, and the celebration was a poor comparison to the one I witnessed in Beijing back in 2004.

Although I love Vietnamese cuisine and frequently eat Bun Bo Hué (Hué-style noodle soup) at home, I was disappointed that we didn't really get to try it here. The restaurant we went to for lunch had sold out (not uncommon here at home) and rather than walk the scorching streets again, we settled for other fare. We had one small bowl as part of a 7-course dinner, but as with the other food we've had here, it was bland (compared to home) and disappointing. We dined in a fairly nice restaurant (total bill $12) and were serenaded by musicians in traditional garb. As an open air garden restaurant, there was nothing to stop the bats from swooping in an making high-speed passes. There are lots of bats here in Vietnam, which reminds me of home. Later that night, a small boy peed in the street, splashing a bit on tattoo-girl's leg.

Home, safely

2010-06-07T14:31:00.001-05:00

So the possibility of blogging from beyond the grave never came to pass, as I did make it home safe and sound (sound being relatively-speaking, after all). Although I had pretty consistent internet access, I wasn't really able to blog. You see, I was not travelling alone, my companion doesn't know about the blog, and I still maintain a pretty strict separation betwix blog & real life. I don't have all my pictures organized yet, but I'll pick up where the unscheduled entries left off and post some pictures later...

May 24: Took the day off and laid on the beach. Played in the bright, blue water and got a slight-to-moderate sunburn. Had a basket of grilled seafood again, though not as good as last night's. The grilled prawns here (all throughout Vietnam, that is) taste like crawfish back home, which is probably not a good thing, but they're damn tasty. There is also a small, white clam about the size of a silver dollar that I really like. I'll eat a lot more of these before I leave.

May 27: Honestly, Hoi An was a let down. It was supposed to be this charming, ancient town full of old houses and character. It wasn't contrived but it didn't remotely live up to the guidebook hype. One review that I later read said that the town died of tourism. The most interesting thing was the cha gio (eggrolls) which use a glass-thread noodle wrapper instead of the traditional rice paper. Interesting and yummy, but not worth visiting the town. There is trash/litter everywhere, like most of Vietnam, but there's also actual dirt on the streets here. It's easy to spot tourists in this country: They're the only ones using trashcans. It is unfortunate that the average Vietnamese has so little civic pride/social responsibility that he throws his trash in the streets. They are, quite literally, living in their own filth.

There was a last minute change of hotels. When tattoo-girl saw the "budget" hotel (that she picked, by the way) she had a total meltdown. The hotel was doing some renovating and the smell of paint fumes was very strong, but overall the hotel was not as nice as the others we had stayed in, especially having come most recently from a Novotel. "It's disgusting and primitive," she said blubbering, although I contend that it was adequate: It had air conditioning, a regular toilet (not a hole in the ground), and a door that locked. But she was unconsolable, so we found another place in town and they were able to accomodate us. The replacement hotel was twice the price (still way cheaper than anything in America) and very nice, set up kind of like little villas with a very nice pool as well.

Down the road was a little shop advertising "Snake 7 Ways" but I couldn't find anyone to go with me. Hoi An also has a beach nearby, but having just spent two days in Nha Trang, I wasn't too interested. Along the road back to Danang is an area called Marble Mountains. The Hyatt Regency and a few others are in the process of building some HUGE resorts here and in a few years it'll be completely overrun. It is a beautiful area, so I completely understand wanting to develop it. On the other hand, it'll exploit the local population even more, further widening the divide between those with money and those without. Maybe there is something to all the rhetoric about overthrowing the bourgeoisie and advocating a proletarian revolution.

Nahh.

Home crap home (scheduled)

2010-06-04T13:50:00.001-05:00

Assuming I've survived, which is a big if, I should be back on the ground in Houston right about now. I left Tokyo 2 hours from now. (yes, you read that right, I'm a time-travellin' motherfucker!) It just occurred to me how cool it would be if I didn't survive some part of the trip, and these pre-scheduled blog postings continued to come after I died. Blogger would have no way of knowing and my account would just sit idle waiting month after month for me to post again. But that part is normal, since it's not uncommon for me to go several months without blogging. Anyhow, I promise not to haunt you.

Oh, hai again (scheduled)

2010-06-03T16:55:00.002-05:00

Leaving Vietnam from Hanoi, I am once again in Japan. This time I have a 9-hour layover, so if I can get through customs quickly (it is 7am local time, after all) I should be able to jump on the express train from Narita to the city, stroll through the Imperial Gardens, grab a little lunch, and make it back for my flight home. To say that this has been a massive trip is surely an understatement.

Faults and all, I'll see you soon, my beloved US of A.

ENOUGH! (scheduled)

2010-06-01T00:00:00.003-05:00

That's enough of Hanoi. Right about now, I am boarding a Chinese-style junk and am setting sail across Halong Bay, an inlet of the Gulf of Tonkin that has something like a thousand little islands. This is a 3-day, 2-night, all-inclusive cruise in one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen pictures of. Until I get back and upload my pictures, you really should go to Flickr and search for Halong Bay. I can't wait to tell you how great it really is, but I really need to get back to the sundeck.

Continuing north (scheduled)

2010-05-29T08:00:00.001-05:00

If you haven't already noticed, I started in the south of the country and have been making my way north. By now, I should have arrived in Hanoi, the capital of both the north and the country. I just took a 13-hour train from Hue. Since it was during the day, I was able to see a lot of the countryside for which I wouldn't otherwise have time. Sure, I could have taken another cheap flight, but this should be a chance to relax, in air-conditioning, and have an adventure at the same time.

I did it my Hue (scheduled)

2010-05-27T03:05:00.005-05:00

From Hoi An, I took a taxi back to Danang and boarded a train for the 2-hour trip across the central mountains. For the next 2 nights, I'll be in the ancient capital of Hue, where there are emperor's tombs and a Forbidden City modelled after Beijing's. Arriving in Hue, my trip is about halfway-over.

Tam biet, Vietnam Airlines! (scheduled)

2010-05-24T20:50:00.004-05:00

If all goes according to plan (and really, what are the odds?) I've just taken my last domestic flight in Vietnam. I've left Nha Trang behind and arrived in Danang. If you didn't just sing to yourself, Danang me, danang me, why don't they get a rope and hang me, you need to rewatch that movie. But I'm not staying in Danang, it's just the closest airport to my home for the next two days, Hoi An. This is supposed to be an ancient little town with a lot of charm. We'll see...

Not exactly according to schedule

2010-05-23T11:34:00.001-05:00

Almost as soon as I arrived in Saigon, I received an email from Vietnam Airlines that they'd changed my itinerary. Talk about panic when I saw that subject line in my inbox! They decided to cancel my morning flight from Saigon to Dalat and rebook me on the afternoon flight, so the timing of the scheduled entry you previously read wasn't quite accurate. Nevertheless, I made it to the mountainous resort of Dalat. The temperature drop was immediately apparent, as was the inverse relationship to my mood (higher, that is). By the way, Vietnam Airlines operates just like any western airline- no surprises there.

Last thoughts about Saigon, for the moment: I had read that monks had once set themselves on fire to protest political activities in this country. I don't think that's exactly accurate, I think it was spontaneous combustion. Yes, it's that hot here. I was not, however, worried, because I was drenched in sweat which would surely quench any flames.

Dalat was awesome. A smaller city of maybe 200,000, the pace of life is much slower. It is also extremely fertile (not unlike yours truly) so the mountains are covered in green and there are flowers everywhere. Zelda, if Jethro ever talks you into coming to Vietnam, insist on coming to Dalat. I was reminded of the pacific northwest or parts of the big island of Hawaii. I went to a lakeside monastery (gorgeous, see photo), the summer home of the last emperor (sad, dilapidated), and something called the Crazy House. Google that last one, because it defies explanation. I ate a wild boar curry, some grilled deer, and some rather plain pho. The deer was the best thing I've eaten so far, which is not to say that the food sucks, just that the deer was that good.

Nha Trang is hotter than expected. It was 37 degC when I arrived this afternoon, which is about 197 degF if I've done the math correctly.The beach is beautiful and I've got a great room at the Novotel. I had a very nice dinner on the beach of fish, squid, shrimp, and clams with a pina colada. The main drag here reminds me of the main strip at Waikiki (hence the pina colada) and the beach itself reminds me of Mexico. There are TONS of tourists here (my flight here was nearly 50% whitey) and they probably outnumber the locals. I'm not really sure what I'll have the energy or inclination for tomorrow, but it's time to hit the sack.

Umm, waiter, I asked for no salt on my margarita (scheduled)

2010-05-23T00:55:00.003-05:00

By now, I've arrived in the seaside resort town of Nha Trang, having taken a flight from Dalat back to Saigon, then another flight here. Booking flights on Vietnam Airlines is as easy as booking with Continental or Southwest, but they don't fly from Dalat straight to Nha Trang even though it's a lot closer. It's cheaper too- all flights cost about the same, which is only about US$80 each, no matter how far you're going. I expect to be lying on the beach for the next two days eating seafood.

Toi muon mua margarita.
(That probably just cost me 200,000 VND, which is a big wad of Dong!)

Back to the airport (scheduled)

2010-05-20T19:20:00.003-05:00

No, I'm not coming home so soon, I'm off to see more of Vietnam. I should have just arrived in Dalat, Vietnam. Dalat is a small town up in the south central mountains and should hopefully be a lot cooler (and quieter) than steamy Saigon. I'll be here for the next two nights, then moving on again.

Saigon actual

2010-05-18T05:11:00.001-05:00

It's a good thing that I pre-arranged a bunch of entries about my trip. Although each of my hotels has wi-fi, internet access has already proven itself to be intermittent. If you haven't already noticed, I've denoted those entries with "(scheduled)" and will try to fill in around them where possible.

Arriving in Saigon was a trip. The doors from customs & immigration open up to the street where, waiting behind barricades, are several hundred people shouting at several hundred other people. I tried not to make too much notice of the fact that at 5'9" I tower over most. And even at 11pm, the heat. It was a definite fear that coming to Vietnam in May would be a mistake, and those fears are nearly realised. The weather app on the computer in my hotelroom says it's 32C or 90F and "feels like 105F". Although, it said there were afternoon thunderstorms, but with hardly a cloud in the sky it felt a lot hotter than the supposed 95F high temp. I very nearly over did it, my first day of walking around. There are lots of other tourists here, so even though I stand WAY out in crowd, I'm not a total curiosity to the locals. Freak, yes, but they've seen plenty of that here. Sights, sounds, smells... all in overwhelming excess here. Information overload. May wander over to the park this evening to watch the singing & dancing extravaganza they've put together in honor of Uncle Ho's 120th birthday (officially tomorrow). Caught a glimpse of it on the way in last night, seeing young girls in traditional outfits and young men in army uniforms singing and prancing. I love a good prancing soldier.

Xin Chao, Saigon! (scheduled)

2010-05-17T10:05:00.004-05:00

In keeping with my theme of optimism, my plane has just landed in Saigon. Ya know how all you wacky conservatives at home love to call Obama a socialist? Well I'm now in a country where they put that right in the name - the Socialist Republic of Vietnam. Yes, I'm well aware of the dichotomy of calling one's state a "socialist republic" but since this isn't a political blog, I don't care. I'm more disappointed that it's not a "people's republic" like China, so I can't blog about arriving in the People's airport, riding the People's bus, and picking up my luggage at the People's carousel.

So once I clear customs, I need to exchange money: Must get Dong.
(yes, you can look forward to lots of Dong jokes over the next few weeks)

Konichiwa Tokyo (scheduled)

2010-05-17T00:20:00.003-05:00

If all goes according to plan, and if I've done the time-conversion correctly, I should be arriving in Narita, Japan (outside Tokyo) right about now. I'm not staying though, just passing through. I've only got a 3.5 hour layover. Stay tuned...

Adios Tejas (scheduled)

2010-05-16T10:50:00.002-05:00

If you haven't already guessed, my big project is a trip. Right about now, my plane should be pulling away from the gate and, knowing how the airlines work, I'll be sitting on the tarmac for the next 2 hours and 59 minutes. But I'm on my way to somewhere else. I'll let you know when I get there.

News about the Gulf of Mexico Oil Spill

2010-05-11T13:45:00.001-05:00

So about that whole 'changing-my-email-settings-so-that-I-can-update-more-often' thing... yeah, I still suck. I hope you'll find a way to cope with my too-infrequent updates, even if it means drinking more than you should. Others might choose to sleep around. Who am I to judge? Just don't become a hoarder, because it's a really trendy disease right now and you'd just look like a poser if you started now. That ship has sailed behind a big pile of clothes and Whataburger wrappers.

My mind has been preoccupied by a number of things, not the least of which is the depression bug. It bit me pretty hard a few months ago, causing a big red welt, and I had planned on blogging about it. But as my gramma used to say, "Plans are like cornholes," (or maybe it was excuses) and then I read some other guy's blog about depression and I got to thinking that I couldn't say it any better than that. So maybe I'd just post a link and add something pithy like, "that's what HE said." But I never got around to it, because that's what depression does to me, get in my way of getting around to it. Then I felt a little better and things were fine. Then things got a little bad again and I said to myself, "Self, fook this, go do something about it." So I made an appointment with a psychiatrist who gave me some little white pills. Except everyone knows that little white pills don't do anything. It's the pink ones or, in a pinch, blue ones that really work.

Oh man, I just read that my chloresterol (pronunciation courtesy of Justin Wilson) pills cannot be combined with grapefruit juice! Daaaang, I love grapefruit juice and I get these energy drinks from Target that are grapefruit flavored. But it blocks the enzymes from getting processed and they build up in your liver and you die. Dyin' to me don't sound like all that much fun, and nobody ever told me until I saw a teeny, tiny warning on the label. Maybe the Target-brand energy drinks don't have actual grapefruit juice. If real juice can kill me, then artificial flavors must be good for me.

I told the psychiatrist that the little white pills weren't making me feel that much better and that I was having trouble sleeping and didn't want to have to take an ambien every night and he said we could either try something else or try adding another drug to the cocktail. And my memory hasn't really been any better, which is a side effect of my depression that long-time readers will recall. But I also told him that I've got this really big project in the works and I was pretty stressed, so it was hard to tell what was weighing on me more. And then I slept really poorly the other night, again, so I decided to stop the little white pills altogether and I cancelled my appointment with him for this week and said that we'd start over when this project is finished.

And that is how I've been. I really just wanted to hint at the big project and leave ya'll wondering what it was. Stay tuned!

The time has come

2010-05-04T23:59:00.000-05:00

With a title like that you'd probably think that I was giving up blogging, getting married, buying chunky-style peanut butter, or some other life-altering decision, but it's not that big a deal, I guess. I am giving up my time-honored tradition of only posting updates at 11:59PM. If you've read my blog from the beginning, you'd know that I chose 11:59PM because I can never remember whether 12AM is midnight or noon and I wanted to post late at night. But I am now very old and can barely stay awake past 9PM anymore, so if I'm ever going to post again, I'll have to change with the times. (get it? change with the times? see what I did there?)

Another change that I'm making is that I've enabled the ability to post to my blog via email. I never enabled that feature before because I was afraid of someone guessing my secret email address. For real. But I've now given myself the freedom to post updates any time I have access to email, which is just about any time. I still don't have one of those fancy iPhones or anything though. In fact, I'm still rockin my black Moto Razr, which turns 5 years old this month. My contention is that my phone is so old, it's cool again. It's retro, like disco, which once sucked but then was cool again. It's got the original battery and all the original parts, so why would I want to spend $300 plus an additional $30 per month (minimum) for a data plan? Everyone I know who has an iPhone suffers 10x more dropped calls than I do, regardless of whether they're on AT&T or another network with a jailbroken phone. And I know they can't go a full day without recharging, so fook that. But I digress...

I know you don't care what time of day it is, since you're going to read this whenever you damnwell feel like it. And I know you don't care whether I posted this via laptop, a desktop, a smartphone, or via Flintstones typewriter with the little bird inside who pecks away at a block of stone. Presumably you want to know what's going on with me. I realize that's a very egocentric thing for me to say, but hello? Have you read my blog?

Adore & Abhor (an homage)

2010-03-29T23:59:00.000-05:00

Adore:
* I absolutely adore the program Estudio 2 on the Estrella network (check your local listings). I'm not sure that any description I provide would be adequate, so I encourage you to check it out. It's on from 6-7p here in Houston, which means I come home from a long day of doing nothing, turn on the TV, and let the waves of good feelings wash over me like the warm, salty, slightly oily surf down in Galveston. Granted, I speak very little español but it really doesn't matter when you've got scantily clad latina go-go dancers and a midget. (The luchadores are el mas bono.) Honestly, I'm not sure that knowing the language would help with understanding this program, nor do I care.

Abhor:
* I abhor twitter. I'm not one of these idealists who thinks that 140 characters is the death of communication. Well, yeah, I am, but that's not really the reason I hate twitter. I hate twitter because the urge to follow celebrity tweets is irresistible. I love feeling like I just got a text message from my closest friend and knowing what they're up to, like red-carpet events and private screenings with backstage passes or jetting off to remote beaches on private islands. Damn you @hotakotb for making me want to be part of your inner circle!!

Tips for selecting your NCAA bracket

2010-03-15T23:59:00.001-05:00

Earlier today I attempted to eat a Jolly Rancher. I love hard candies, and that's not a euphemism. What I don't like is when the wrapper separates in layers, leaving bits of itself stuck to the candy. (Your vocab word for the day is delamination.) I threw the whole thing away in frustration and decided to write a letter to the Hershey Corporation, which manufactures the tasty candy in question. This is because I have become Ted L. Nancy. I have recently written letters to Comcast, the Vietnamese Consulate, American Movie Classics (cable channel), and the Mayor of Houston. My latest letter is to the good people at Hersheys:

To whom it may concern:
I was recently given a Jolly Rancher by a coworker (more specifically, it was left unattended on his desk and nobody saw me take it) but I had a lot of difficulty with the wrapper. This was an Applestix candy, not the traditional bite-sized candy in a clear double-twist wrapper. As I unwrapped the candy, the wrapper came delaminated, with bits of the opaque wrapper coming off in my hand and other silvery bits sticking to the candy. I wound up throwing the whole thing away in frustration.

To answer what I'm sure is your next question, yes, I briefly considering putting the whole thing in my mouth and then spitting out the bits of wrapper as they separated from the candy. Unfortunately, I work in a professional environment (apart from the coworker-on-coworker candy thievery) so I did not consider spitting to be a viable alternative despite the fact that I live and work in Texas.

As the candy was not purchased by me, I am not seeking reimbursement. I just hope that you're able to fix this manufacturing/packaging problem before word gets around and people stop buying your otherwise delicious candy. Perhaps you could include a 'FAQ' on your website if there is some trick to unwrapping Jolly Ranchers. For example, "put them in the freezer for 10 minutes" or "submerge them in 190-degree water for 2 minutes." I really don't know what works best since I was only able to swipe two of the candies, but I don't recall ever having such difficulties.
Sincerely,
tinyhands

PS: I appreciate the fact that the form on your website which requires me to enter my age allows me to select a year all the way back to 1890. I don't know how many 120 year olds still enjoy Jolly Ranchers, and while I cannot say that she was representative of all senior citizens, I do know that my Nana's Nana (God rest her soul) also liked hard candies. Perhaps it's genetic!

News about Tiger Woods' affair

2009-12-09T23:59:00.005-06:00

Winter is here. It snowed last week and then it was 75-degrees yesterday and it'll be 34 tonight and back in the 70s this weekend. So, if you live in SE Texas and you have sinuses, you can pretty much go fuck yourself.

Still, it was a beautiful sunset this evening. Imagine a canvas of #000099, with broad brush strokes of #0033FF and smaller dabs of #33CCFF throughout. Down near the western horizon, #FFCCCC blending through every shade, down to #FF6600. Breathtaking, don't you think?

In case you haven't finished your Christmas shopping (which, by the way, makes you a bad person and totally responsible for the sorry state of our economy) I will be having a book-signing event this Saturday at the Barnes & Noble near the Galleria from 2pm until I get tired. B&N obviously won't let me back in the store (another story for another time) so I will be in my van in the parking lot. Just knock on the side door if there's not a line. I will sign any book you bring. Just let me know if you want me to sign it as the author or as someone else. I have been working on my Dan Brown signature and my Sarah Palin is pretty good too. Requests for Michael Crichton signatures spiked last Thanksgiving, then tapered off a bit through the holidays. I am expecting more demand for this one on his most recent, posthumous, release. As always, my book signing events are free, but I would appreciate if someone would pick me up a Jamba Juice. It's right across the street.

Why the Yankees will never win the World Series

2009-11-05T23:59:00.001-06:00

The number one question I've been asked, when stopped on the street by people to whom I do not recall ever previously being introduced, is: Where have you been for the past 5+ months?? This is often accompanied by the waiving of arms, honking of horns, and hand-signals that I heretofore believed were related to waiting until the last second to merge lanes on the freeway. After a few months of studying lip-reading, I am quite certain that they are fans of my blog and merely asking me to post an update. One such fan, despondent and desperate, may even have attempted suicide by slashing her knees, in an attempt at my attention.

Now that the elections are over, I can resume semi-regular posting again. Yes, I was a candidate for Mayor of the City of Houston. Unfortunately I lost, but I only lost by less than 89,000 votes. (88,661, but who's counting?) In a city of over 4 million residents, I consider that a victory. Heck, even Bloomberg only beat his closest rival by 50,000 votes and that dude spent over $100M on his campaign. I bought myself some new penny loafers and a windbreaker at the outlet mall last weekend. The victory, however, is a symbolic one, as several security guards at City Hall reminded me over a breakfast of pepper spray with a side of taser. Nevertheless, I am honored to even be mentioned in the same paragraph (even if I'm the one writing it) as Mayor Bloomberg.

Candy Gal

2009-05-28T23:59:00.003-05:00

The lice actually came from my idiot brother-in-law. Nephew B picked up lice somewhere in the neighborhood. He gave it to Nephew A and Niece A, who in turn gave it to Sister and idiot Brother-in-law, both of whom were home for a whole week after Niece B arrived.

Wait. Did I forget to tell you about Niece B? Ok, my sister popped out kid #4, a perfectly healthy little girl. And since my sister wants to be the next Pope, she therefore doesn't believe in birth control, leaving that job to my idiot brother-in-law meaning she'll be preggo again by year's end.

So idiot brother-in-law had lice but didn't know it, when he got in my car and went to the racetrack outside Fort Worth with me. He was just coming up there as an observer and to keep me awake on the long drive, but when they offered a ride around the track in the professional car with the professional driver, he naturally took them up on it. Only catch was that he needed to wear a helmet for that. So I lent him mine. Then it was my turn to ride around the track (for comparison with my own driving around) with the pro, so I took the helmet back...

It was on the drive home that my sister called to tell us the good news. I never had a full-blown infestation, since I started treatment the same day I was exposed, but I treated it as such. Washed all the sheets and towels in hot water, sprayed the carpet and sofa with insecticide, and used medicinal hair gel for several days. Apart from being FURIOUS with my sister and idiot brother-in-law, it was fairly easy. But that gel dried out my scalp, which then itched, which made me paranoid that I was fully infested. Still, 4 weeks later, every time my head itches I think about little crawlies up there. Just thinking about it makes my head itch, and I bet you're scratching too.

I wanted to point out how it's true what they say, that actions speak louder than words. For example, sending flowers to your woman at work as opposed to merely saying "I love you." Another example, my sister says she doesn't want to have any more kids. But she will, it's just a matter of time. So the whole actions vs. words thing can go both ways, good or bad. You can tell someone that you support every decision they make, but if they tell you that at age 35, 140 lbs, they want to become an Olympic gymnast, and you initially chuckle, that's what they'll remember. And they'll blame you for not doing it. Never mind if they never finished anything else they ever started, whether it's learning to play the banjo, taking a loom-weaving class, or mastering vegan Inuit cooking. The important thing is having you to blame.

Something else that I've been thinking about lately is apologies. I was actually thinking about it before I saw it, because something similar happened to me recently, but the issue came up on the season finale of Ugly Betty. [SPOILER ALERT] Betty kinda-sorta cheated on her boyfriend but couldn't decide whether to tell him about it or not. She eventually came to the conclusion, which I think agree with, that telling him something he didn't know would make HER feel better but it would devastate him. So rather than hurt him to make herself feel better, the guilt she felt over what she did was her punishment. But it turns out that he DID know, so not telling him made it seem like she was covering it up and he broke up with her. I'm not sure how the situation could have been avoided, because she was between a rock and a hard place, but I suppose if he had confronted her about it they could have worked it out. He's mostly innocent, but there's also something not-so-innocent about the way he let her dangle and twist in the wind on that guilty rope. Whether to talk about it openly and work it out or to do whatever you can to spare the other person's feelings... I don't know the right answer.

I am a pizza

2009-05-18T23:59:00.003-05:00

So I'm a deadbeat blogger. Sue me.

I had a date with MidWestFarmer'sDaughter. It went terribly. It didn't start out bad, but it sure ended bad. Not she-threw-her-drink-in-my-face bad or I-had-the-stage-fright bad, but bad enough that I learned something. Yes, that's bad. Then I had two dates with tattoo-girl. Then I was supposed to go out with this latina chick, only I spent the day with tattoo-girl (she "dropped by" which kind of annoyed me, but she brought donuts so she's forgiven) so I wound up blowing off the latina. I called her the next day to apologize, but it went straight to voicemail. She sent me an email the next day saying that she changed her mind and that we weren't right for each other. I felt bad about the situation, but she was right. I wasn't really that into her.

So then I went to drive my car on a racetrack. The dealership from which I bought my G35 turned out (unbeknownst to me) to be one of the biggest Infiniti dealers in the country. The owner of that dealership has a professional racing team, with a souped-up G35 and a professional driver. A couple of times a year he invites his customers up to a racetrack near Fort Worth to learn just what their cars can do. Apart from the 5 hour drive up there and a hotel room, it was totally free to race MY car on a track. It was awesome, but I got lice from the helmet.

My latest phobia

2009-04-10T23:59:00.003-05:00

So I mentioned tattoo-girl last time. Almost as much fun as the dating is the coming up with nicknames for these girls. In my Year In Review post (on whose resolutions I know I'm only batting about .500, learn to cope by smoking or playing online backgammon) I mentioned a few girls that I haven't written about yet, including BabyMamaDrama and LawyerNotALaywer. Now there's tattoo-girl, MidwestFarmersDaughter (really makes me feel alright), MadeInTaiwan, and GenericAsianGirlBecauseICan'tThinkOfABetterNickname. Unfortunately for you, dear reader, I can't write about them until it's over. It is merely a matter of time (when, not if) before this blog is discovered, therefore it's so much better for my sex life if conjugal relations are already off-the-table with the individual(s) in question. (and yes, I've done it on-the-table)

What I can write about is a problem I've never experienced before: Fear of Commitment

I find myself afraid of commitment for the first time in my life. Interestingly, reading about it online, people who fear commitment most often also crave it. It's this weird dichotomy that causes discomfort. I've always known that I have a fear of committing to my job- I like to think that I could totally switch careers at a moment's notice without getting boxed into a potentially-limiting careerpath. I don't really consider that a fear of commitment though, it's more specifically fearing a lack of options. But fear of commitment to a relationship is something I don't ever recall feeling, and I don't like it. There are all sorts of websites that explain that it stems from stuff like fear of losing ones freedom, space, identity. For others, it stems from a fear of losing something more tangible, like money. A lot of people experience commitmentphobia as a result of previous failed relationships, accompanied by a fear of abandonment, and it would be tempting to blame my divorce (5th anniversary is week after next) for this but I don't think that's the case. I mean, I've been in a committed, long-term post-divorce relationship and didn't feel like this.

But what if, subconsciously, I knew that I had nothing to fear from that relationship because I thought, subconsciously, that it would never work out? That is, if I'm in a "safe" relationship, I have nothing to fear. (But since I never thought about it until now, the more likely explanation is that it really WAS a safe relationship and I had nothing to fear.)

So why am I feeling this way now? It's true that I've been spending a lot of time with tattoo-girl. And although I've also spent a lot of time and remain friends with LawyerNotALawyer, I really don't see any future for that relationship. It's also true that I've always been afraid of abandonment, failure, and other related issues. But that stuff has never stopped me from pursuing a relationship before. I am on the verge of a relationship with tattoo-girl and I find myself having self-sabotaging thoughts about ending it (or at least limiting it) before really giving it a chance.

I think I've mentioned this before, but my ex-wife told me that I "settled" for her, so I guess it boils down to being afraid of settling again. I am curious to see what else is out there, which is probably just a case of 'the grass is always greener' syndrome. The attention that I've been getting lately has definitely boosted my confidence, something else with which I don't have much experience. Perhaps I'm just nervous about having confidence.

Doomed To Repeat It

2009-03-21T23:59:00.003-05:00

I was looking at profiles on the dating site recently and came across a young lady of Asian (Korean?) ancestry. I don't have a problem with accents, non-native English speakers, or Engrish but this woman's headline read "Must Love Dog." She's either a movie-fan or a foodie and, to be honest, I'm too afraid to find out.

You probably didn't notice my absence (even though I thought about you the whole time) but I just got back from a ski trip to Breckenridge, CO. It's been 7 years since I last skied, so when the opportunity came up I jumped at it. I'm a solid-intermediate skier and it all came back to me, like riding a bike. I enjoyed the trip, except for the altitude sickness that I got the first night there. Breck is at 9,600 feet and I had most of the symptoms (shortness of breath, massive headache, nausea, chills, etc.) that only slightly lessened after I took an Imitrex. That first night really sucked and my headaches only went away when I was on the slopes. The weather was beautiful though, and there was lots of co-ed eye-candy, as it was spring break. By Monday, however, the crowds at the base of the mountain had built-up to the point that there was an hour wait for a lift. Mid-mountain and above wasn't that bad.

The other major crisis from the trip was my flight home. It's my fault, and I admit it, but I booked the wrong flight home. And boy did it cost me. I meant to take the 7pm flight from DEN-IAH, but I mistakenly selected an 11:30am flight and didn't notice until the morning of my return, at 10:30am when I was still in Breckenridge, 2 hours away from Denver. When I called the airline (who will remain nameless, because Frontier Airlines fucking sucks and they screwed me balls-deep) they were understanding but unable to charge me less than $300 for my mistake. I may have been the one who clicked the wrong button, but I also blame you (yes, you). Your senator and/or representative voted against the Airline Passengers' Bill of Rights. Since you didn't hold him or her accountable for being in the pocket of the airlines, I blame you. (and I feel a little better for getting that off my chest)

The title of this entry refers to a famous quotation attributable to George Santayana. Normally this quotation would describe my academic career, but in keeping with the dating-theme I've been writing about, I've been corresponding with another Vietnamese girl. This one is considerably more Western, however, as evidenced by the nickname by which she will henceforth be known: Tattoo-girl.

Anger Management

2009-03-09T23:59:00.001-05:00

Is it still called 'road rage' if I want to ram my own car into a concrete abutment?

The G has been royally pissing me off as of late. Not the whole car, mind you, but specifically the bluetooth interface. In case you're not familiar, my car has a built-in speakerphone wired into the radio and a nifty little button on the steering wheel. To use it, you pair the phone to the speakerphone and it automatically mutes the radio when making or receiving a call. In theory, it's great. But the motherfucker refuses to pair. (Ed. note: Not unlike the girls he's been dating recently.)

I don't leave the bluetooth enabled on my phone unless I'm using it because it drains the battery faster. So if I plan on using it, I turn it on, then tell the phone to pair with the car. The indicator light on my car blinks a few times, but then goes out which should signal that it's not paired with my phone. Meanwhile, my phone displays a message that it's still searching for my car. If I close the clamshell on my phone, it stops the pairing process. However, even though both the car and the phone indicate that they're not paired, if I press the steering wheel button and try to place a call, it works. WTF?!

The other problem, the one that really had me cursing at my car, was the voice recognition. The car doesn't have the ability to look at my phone's address book. Rather, it has it's own address book. But it takes too long to program all that shit, and it only allows one number per person. For example, I store "Beth" and the car asks me if that's her mobile number, so I say yes. I try to store Beth's home number and, rather than ask me if that's her home number it tells me that "Beth" sounds too much like another entry in the phone book, so I have to choose another name. So why the fuck did it ask me whether the first number was her mobile number!? Anyway, fook that shiz, because I don't have time to be coming up with unique sounding names for everyone and every number in my phone. Instead, I can just say the digits that I want to dial. (This is, however, a problem because I can only consistently remember my parents, my sister, and my own phone number without looking at what's stored in my phone's phonebook.)

tinyhands: Dial, 7135551212.
Stupid G-bitch: Dial, 71355512122? Say 'dial' or 'correction.'

th: Correction. Dial, 7135551212.
G: Dial, 7035551212. Say 'dial' or 'correction.'

th: (muttering, 'goddammit') Correction. Dial, 7 1 3 5 5 5 1 2 1 2.
G: Dial, 7135558822. Say 'dial' or 'correction.'

th: What the fuck? CORRECTION! DIAL, SEVEN, ONE, THREE, FIVE, FIVE, FIVE, ONE, TWO, ONE, TWO!
G: Dial, 71355512212. Say 'dial' or 'correction.'

th: You've got to be kidding me. CORRECTION! DIAL. SEV-EN. WONNN. THREEEE. FIIIVE. FIIIVE. FIIIVE. WONNN. TOOOO. WONNN. TOOOO!
G: Dial, 7135051212. Say 'dial' or 'correction.'

th: AAHHHH!!!!! (pounds steering wheel button with fist, inadvertently honking at everyone within 500 yards)

Two strikes

2009-02-08T23:59:00.002-06:00

Lest you think I've got women crawling all over me and I can pick and choose at wiil, it's not always my choice not to date someone anymore. For example, when it comes to Vietnamese chicks dumping me, I'm batting 1000.

I first met "Hiney" (Allie provided the nickname, a variation on her name since Allie is too cracker to pronounce that foreign stuff) back in September. I saw her profile online and, although it didn't have a lot of details, I sent her an email. She responded in kind and we eventually arranged a meetup. We spent a long Saturday afternoon getting to know each other and had, I thought, I really nice time. So nice, in fact, that she agreed to see me again the following day. A busy week or two went by, broken-up by a few emails and phonecalls, but her birthday was just before mine so I planned to take her out on a fancy third date/birthday dinner. We had a very nice (read: expensive) dinner at a steakhouse, plus dessert brought back to her place where she opened a bottle of wine. She stayed across the room from me all night, so nothing happened and I went home. Our fourth date was scheduled for the day after my birthday. I texted her what happened and that I needed to reschedule.

Sidebar: I'd like to point out here that when a friend of mine recently sent me an email that she'd been in a car accident, the first thing I did was pick up the phone. Her email was specific to the details of the crash and how she was doing, so it wasn't that I needed more information. It's what you do when you give at least A shit about someone.

But I never knew whether or not Hiney got my text message, because she neither called nor texted back, so I called her that evening and got her voicemail. She never returned that call, so a few days later I sent her an email. Two weeks passed, by which point I had written her off, when I finally got a reply. Her email said that she didn't think there was any chemistry between us and she wished me luck. Her revised online profile, however, now indicated that she was looking for "less drama." I thought about apologizing to her for wrecking my car, and her evening, but decided to let it go.

Dr. Hottie, much more recently, was another Vietnamese girl that I liked the looks of and sent an email. Dr. Hottie is, as you might have guessed, a doctor and a hottie. She cut right to the chase and suggested we meet for drinks. We spent a very nice couple of hours at a wine bar getting to know each other, then met for BBQ a few days later. I don't like to come on too strong, so I gave her a little room. A week went by and I hadn't heard from her, so I called, just to touch base. Voicemail. She returned my call the following morning, but said more than once that she hadn't expected me to answer. In other words, she was hoping to leave me a brush-off message. The phonecall was very brief. Another week has gone by and I haven't heard from her, so I'm forced to assume that she isn't interested. There are other subtle clues, and I won't bore you with the details, but I'm certain that I've been dumped again.

It's 2009 and I hate the state of things. What really pisses me off is all that "He's just not that into you" bullshit. And it IS bullshit. When did it become OK to not tell someone you're not interested? I don't like having The Talk, but I do it because it's the right thing to do. Attraction works both ways. If a girl can't call a guy, then she's just not that into you.

Euphemisms

2009-02-02T23:59:00.000-06:00

I totally forgot one of the main things I wanted to write on that last entry, euphemisms. I want to read your best euphemisms for Crazy Chipmunk in the comments.

I'll get the ball started with the first two:

- She's cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs.
- She's selling furniture WAYYY below wholesale.

Update

2009-01-30T23:59:00.001-06:00

The Stray Chipmunk has evolved to a different part of the animal kingdom. I'm sorry to disappoint if you were expecting maybe a tiger in the bedroom, but the critter I had in mind was a rabbit. As in, a Bunny-Boiler. (see also: Clingon) She recently related to our mutual friend that she had met a guy online and sent him eight (8!) emails in a row. (Note to self: Mutual-friend is not being a good friend by withholding this information.) Unbeknownst to me, after I had The Talk with her, she also went back to our mutual friend to ask, "So what do you think he means by that?"

Let me assure you, my friends, that I was unambiguous.

Had I known that she didn't get the message, I definitely would not have default-dated her a couple of Fridays ago. We were supposed to meet up with some of her friends which, I remind you, is the only reason she hasn't been deleted from my phone. But shockingly </sarcasm> that never happened. Instead, she was pawing at me all night and when I dropped her off, kinda early I might add, she tried (I'll spare you the details) to get me to come up to her apartment. I politely declined and went home. That evening she sent me a text message stating that she knew just what I needed and that I should call her to find out. (Thus triggering the rant that preceded this entry.) As if I didn't know where that was headed, I did not call her. I didn't have to, because I knew she would call me, which she did the following night.

An excruciatingly long conversation followed, as she explained to me that what I really needed was a 'bad girl.' She was not dissuaded by me asking her to introduce me to one, instead explaining that perhaps I had already met one and didn't know it. I tried to make my point subtly, reasoning that if I had already met one, I wouldn't need one. Of course logic would not work with this girl, so I ended the call as quickly as I could. A few minutes later, you guessed it, I got a text from her, informing me that I had underestimated her. According to her, she can be quite wild in the bedroom and that I probably couldn't keep up with her. Now, I like a dare as much as the next guy, but I am not falling for that one. (Unless, of course, you double-dog dare me to stick my tongue to it.) I stuck to my principles, reminding her that I was not interested and did not want her to try to change my mind. After that, she blamed it all on me for "starting it."

Update to the update:
I'm never going to get to click publish on this story because it just keeps going and going. Get this- Crazy Chipmunk and I had other, semi-rational, telephone conversations in the past. She told me about a guy she was going to go out with who is the brother of the step-mother of a guy she was engaged to many years ago. That's right, she was dating her former-nearly-step-uncle-in-law. Only, she didn't want to, she was just being polite because she's still friends with the former-nearly-step-mother-in-law. Or whatever. Naturally, I told her that if she didn't want to, not to. She confided to me that she thought he was gay, being 49 years old and never having been married. But she couldn't get out of that first date because it was too late to back out. What surprised me is that she agreed to a second date. She said he was very nice and polite, but spent the whole first date name-dropping and trying just a bit too hard to impress her. Not to mention that she still thought he was gay.

According to mutual-friend, she is now calling him her "boyfriend." Not a friend who is a boy, but a steady-relationship boyfriend. W.T.F.

Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition

2009-01-24T23:59:00.001-06:00

It's kind of funny, I suppose, that I found myself recently among a bunch of my guy friends as the one with the most dating experience. I'm by no means experienced, but I was the only one to have been married, and the only one currently even trying to date members of the opposite sex. Among the discussions were those specific to online dating, creating a profile, and setting search parameters. I understand their confusion, and the desire to think that it's as easy as custom-ordering a pizza: I want this size, with these toppings. It would be tempting to think that, after meeting someone, you could ask the obvious question- What's a great guy/girl like you doing single?

But that's what dating is. The whole ritual is asking that question, without using those words of course, and trying to determine the answer. It's like playing Taboo where the clue is the above question. Unfortunately, there are a number of other questions that you also cannot ask outright. What anti-depressants are you on? How is your therapy coming? The object of Dating Taboo is to get the other person to shout out their dysfunction first.

As I previously mentioned, I did actually meet a few people via an online dating site. In addition to initiating contact, I was surprised to find a couple of women who introduced themselves first. I like to call one of those women NobodyExpectsTheSpanishInquisition.

She wasn't exactly what I thought I was looking for, but I'll be the first one to admit that I don't know it all. She has a kid, which I'm wary-of due to the complications that invariably go along with that. But wary-of does not mean to-be-avoided, so we managed to synchronize our schedules long enough to have a drink on a very nice Saturday afternoon in her part of town, about 30 miles north of the city. (For those keeping score at home, that's 2 strikes.) I had a nice enough time, despite the BARRAGE of questions coming at me. It wasn't so much of a conversation as it was an interrogation. At the time, I thought I'd rather be water-boarded, but in hindsight it wasn't that bad, and I do understand her need to thoroughly vet any guy who might come into contact with her daughter.

Ultimately, what put the nail in the coffin for me was her inability to schedule her personal time in advance. I don't fault her, personally, for being a single-parent without perfect babysitting resources. Under different circumstances it might have turned out better. But her "found time" style of dating was too much like a booty call without the booty. The last such call I got from her was at 10pm on a Friday night, indicating that she was taking her parents to the airport in the morning (at least 30 minutes away) and did I want to come meet her for breakfast at 7:30am?
Uhh, no thanks.

Online MATCHmaking

2009-01-19T23:59:00.001-06:00

I wrote this entry a few days ago, but didn't post it immediately because I wanted to think about it a bit first. Then something happened and I got really angry. I'm still angry about the situation, but I've calmed down. I just wish people would stop telling me what I need. These people aren't my family, friends who know me very well, or even other bloggers who've read this blog for years and know my deepest, darkest secrets. I've just gotten a lot of unsolicited advice lately. Even though they don't know about the existence of this blog, I'm going to direct this to them:
You don't know what the fuck you're talking about. You don't know me, and you don't have Clue 1 what I need. You've confused what you want with what you think I need. The next time you catch yourself saying, "You need to..." I want you to stop. Change that sentence to, "I want for you to..." That's almost like asking me what I want. It's almost listening to me when I'm speaking. It's close enough for me right now and the best I can expect from you.

It looks so easy on TV, doesn't it? You just log into a website, answer a few questions, and beautiful people come streaming down the intarwebs at you faster than you ever imagined. They all love you right away and can't wait to begin a lifelong, trusting relationship with you. And even if you don't fork over your credit card details, it's okay to look.

Well it ain't that easy, I tells ya. Especially if you're like me, an average guy with average looks (like hell, you say!), who suffers from seasonal depression and social anxiety. The social anxiety is relatively new, but if you've ever met me in person, count yourself among the lucky. (Ed. note: Clearly the ego is not affected) I'm not an agoraphobe because I enjoy going out, either alone or with known associates. It's interacting with less-well-known people that makes me extremely uncomfortable. I've been to a couple of blog/internet group meets and it's always the same: I have this uncontrollable urge NOT to go, starting in my gut and making me nauseated. Feeling gassy is not the best way to start a date, let me tell you. But I tell myself to suck it up, be a man, and go through with it, which I usually do and I usually manage to have a good time. Whether or not my companions have a good time is hardly in question. I cannot imagine that they do not.

In September and October of last year, I threw caution to the wind and was a paying member of a dating site. I had created a profile on this site YEARS ago, with the intent of just looking, but I felt like I needed to do something proactive. I rewrote my profile and refined my search parameters, but was still nervous about taking the next step. I took a leap, entered my credit card number, and began sending emails to strangers. I got very few responses, however. Of the roughly dozen emails I sent to prospective young ladies, I got two responses. (I'll tell you about those later.) Online matchmaking is a bit of a numbers game, and one can't always wait for one connection to fail before making another potential connection. For one thing, you're paying for this service, regardless of how much or how little you use it. On the bright side, I was also receiving unsolicited emails initiated by other women. To tell the truth, the majority of them weren't people that I felt fit my criteria for being a good match. But just as I wanted a personal response for the emails I sent, I felt I owed personal responses for those sent to me. Two of the emails sent to me were from women worth considering, so I struck up conversations and eventually met them. (I'll tell you about those later, as well.)

I guess I'm giving away the endings to those stories to say that it's a new year and I've just re-activated my profile. I rewrote my "ad" again, making it much shorter and more concentrated on me, and I've already made for myself a couple of introductions. I'll have to get back to you, but I'll let you know how it goes.

Bad Things About Living Alone - #37

2009-01-15T23:59:00.000-06:00

Whoever smelt it, dealt it.

(This is number 37 in the series)

#1 in reverse order

2009-01-11T23:59:00.001-06:00

(I promised stories of dates and dating, so let me start with the most recent victim first.)

I should first explain how The Stray Chipmunk got her nickname. She started out as just The Chipmunk, because her face gets kind of scrunchy (not disfigured or anything) which purses her lips a bit showing her front teeth and makes me think of a chipmunk. Cute enough, I suppose. I later had to add stray to that because, like a dog or a cat, once I paid a little attention to her, she wouldn't go away.

I first met her a few months ago when I was having lunch with a friend of mine. She works in the HR department at his company and he brought her along. He really likes her and, being married, thinks I need to hook up. It's not that I disliked her right away, but I was not attracted. I don't know about you, but I usually know very quickly whether or not I'm attracted to someone. Call it my hunter instinct. Maybe she was overwhelmed by the rapport that I have with my buddy- exchanging movie lines, heavy sarcasm and playful insults- but she seemed like a fish out of water. I caught her looking crossways at him when he dropped a not-altogether-inappropriate f-bomb. In public, mixed-company, I rarely curse like a sailor, but there's no question that I'm not a prude. The look she gave him, however, further solidified my not interested opinion.

Then she started calling and texting with some regularity, and when she asked me out few weeks ago, I accepted. I began to regret it right away since, although she asked me to a party at her friend's house, it was my task to plan everything and coordinate transportation, clothing, gifts, etc. She never really framed it like a date, and my buddy had planted the idea that she wanted to introduce me to some of her girlfriends. (Seed corn, my friend calls her. You never eat the seed corn.) I heard, through the grapevine, that she was at her company's Christmas party back in December, looking very good. So I figure I can afford to be seen with a not-unattractive wing-chick. Later, we went out drinking and bar-hopping and, while it wasn't what I would consider romantic per se, it was clearly a date. Unfortunately, she talked and talked without listening, without noticing that I didn't really want to talk about her work. She also talked about our mutual friend a lot, particularly how another girlfriend of hers thinks that they (she and my married friend) would make a cute couple. I know I've been out of the dating scene for a while, but have things changed so much that it's ok to talk about other people like that?

Since then, I got a dozen text messages telling me what a great time she had, asking if I had a great time, and how she really wants to see me again. (Ok, I get that, I really do. I'm a great guy.) But don't tell me stories of some desperate guy who keeps calling you and won't give you any space, then turn around and act desperate for someone else. Well, maybe desperate is a little harsh, but I did get texted AFTER she went out with that desperate guy. That's practically a booty call. Our schedules finally aligned and I had lunch with her this week. She let me pay, which made it that much easier to have The Talk with her. You know The Talk. The I'm-just-not-feeling-the-romantic-chemistry-between-us-but-I-genuinely-want-to-be-friends talk. She giggled nervously and said that she agreed with me, but it really sounded like she hoped for more.

Maybe this all comes across as mean, but that's not my intent. And maybe I'm being too picky. There just isn't any chemistry with this one, so I'll throw her back and cast my line again.

HELP!!

2009-01-04T23:59:00.000-06:00

I cannot stop spending money!

From October to December I spent $6 grand on residing 3 sides of my home. (The fourth side was redone in vinyl siding before I moved in 5 years ago, looks fine, and I never see that side of my home because it's actually in my neighbor's patio.)

Since then, I have bought 3 pair of new shoes (these and two of these) and had a fourth pair re-soled.

I bought a new hdtv/monitor and an external harddrive to backup the new computer I bought back in August but still haven't fully set up.

I bought 4 shirts and a vest.

I bought myself two books when I ordered other Christmas gifts, the second of which I also received for Christmas, so it's going back in exchange for this one.

Every time I deal with that retailer, I'm in danger of buying additional stuff for myself, such as this, that, or these. (not to be used together)

And as long as I'm shopping for more stuff, I might as well get this. (just in case someone in jammies wants to drive my car)

And I want an authentic, vintage one of these for my bar, not one of these knockoff repros.

But, oh crap, I forgot that I still have to pay for all the new plants for my patio. That's probably going to be another grand.

According to news reports, I am the only person buying anything. I am single-tinyhandedly propping-up the economy. You're welcome.

Off to a great start

2009-01-01T23:59:00.003-06:00

You can't open a new chapter without closing the old one. When I wrote that sentence, all of 15 seconds ago, something clicked and I had to pause. I really only meant to write it as a cliché opener to describe how I spent New Year's Eve, but I realize now that I have to make good on it.

My traditional New Year's Eve has been to have dinner at the same restaurant at which my wife and I used to have NYE dinner. It's a cute little pub in the midtown area that serves British food (bangers & mash, shepherd's pie, fish & chips, etc.) so there's no reason to go there more than once a year. Being a creature of habit, I continued the tradition even after the divorce, except of course for the year that I was inappropriately groping my then-girlfriend in public. (2006- good times, good times)

I tried to go there last night, but having had a large lunch, I wasn't hungry until kind of late. I got there just before 9pm and was told they were closed. This was crushing, since it occurred to me that if this place was closing, just about everything else would be closed too. I burned-rubber across town to a Mex-Mex favorite of mine (not to be confused with Tex-Mex) and was similarly turned-away. The situation was growing desperate, since the Cuban place I then drove by was not only closed, but completely dark as well. One last chance before I settled for IHOP (how come I never feel like hopping when I leave there?), I drove over to a Spanish place that still had the lights on.

"Is it too late to get a table?" I asked of the gentleman who got up from one of the tables to greet me at the door. "No, no señor. Come in. Where would you like to sit? Is it just you?"

I don't know that I can adequately describe this place. It's in a strip-mall center that is at least 40 years old, off of the main street, and has never been renovated on the outside. If I said it was a dive, you'd think it was a dump on the inside, which it isn't. There's modern art on the walls and it's well-lit and clean. Whether it is or not, it just makes me think of what a very hard-working immigrant family would turn into a very successful word-of-mouth business. But bear in mind, the Spanish do not rush through their meals. I knew I'd be sitting alone for a while. I ordered tapas variedad, cordero jardín, y un vaso de vino roja - that is, an appetizer of sausage, serrano ham, and manchego cheese, a braised lamb shank with vegetables, and a glass of red wine.

It was, of course (claro) fantastic. I especially enjoyed the waiter who spoke only Spanish to me after I ordered in Spanish. I didn't understand a quarter of the shit he said to me, but he ended nearly every visit to my table with es todo bien? (is everything ok?) so all I had to do was pick that out, then smile and answer in the affirmative (sí, sí. bien.) with a patient, knowing nod. I left them a generous tip and wished them un feliz año on the way out, comfortable with the thought of having found a new tradition entirely my own.

Year in Review

2008-12-31T23:59:00.003-06:00

Wow, no blog I've read so far today has used that headline. How odd. DIBS!

2008 was not a terribly good year for me. I know it was decidedly BAD for some of you, but I think we weathered it (Ed. note: *groan*) pretty well, on the whole. I'd like to recap as much of the year as I can remember, but my memory really sucks right now. See, I've noticed that a side-effect of my seasonal depression (which is still raging right now) is that it turns my memory to swiss-cheese. I think I've managed the memory-loss pretty well, but it still has the potential to be bad for my friends. If you've told me about your new boyfriend/girlfriend/job/disease/car and I failed to ask you followup questions in subsequent conversations, I think it's because of the SAD. Or else I have mad cow. Just speculating here, but maybe it's a subconscious self-defense mechanism for getting me through perceived hard times. They say that the adrenaline released during a traumatic event helps cement them in your memory (unfortunately making it worse by forcing us to relive painful memories), so why wouldn't it work the other way? Depression should therefore block memory formation.

ANYWAY... 2008, the year in review:

Hurricane Ike may have been the biggest event of the year. It had the biggest local impact, as there are still blue-tarp roofs, tree roots, and as-yet-unrebuilt homes all around the Houston area.
That lead to a need to replace the siding on la casa de manos pequeños. Unfortunately, I hired my dad's handyman, not an experienced siding contractor, so a job that should have taken 1 week took 2 months. (I know you're thinking of the line from The Money Pit - "two weeks! two weeks!" but I prefer another one - "You testing missles here? Yeah, it's real hush-hush though.") I should write more about this later.
Before both Ike and the siding debacle, I tore up my patio plants and redesigned the landscaping. Granted, it's still just a design, since I didn't want to put new plants in the ground while the 3 idiots (see above) were trampling all over the place. And now it's too cold to plant, so I'm waiting until March. But my patio is going to look awesome. I took before pictures, so keep an eye out for the after.
I went on a haunted tour of Houston with a fellow blogger and her mother, who kept groping me inappropriately every time we got on and off the bus. (And now she won't return my phonecalls!)
I spent some quality time with my grandmother, who told me some great stories about my ancestors: Some stuff I knew, a lot of stuff I didn't know, some stuff I knew but thought was wrong anyway. No matter how good the quality time is, however, you never want to hear your grandmother tell you about when she missed her period.
I wrecked my car, with a lot of help from a fake-tittied bimbo in an H3. I guess I came out ahead, since my new car is beautiful, but the promise of ass still has yet to materialize.
Speaking of ass, I did go out on a few dates. The best thing I can say about them is that they gave me excuses to come up with nicknames. In chronological order, they were: BabyMamaDrama, Hiney, NobodyExpectsTheSpanishInquisition, LawyerNotALawyer, and The Stray Chipmunk. I'll write more about these soon.
I only read 9 or 10 books this year, which was short of the one-a-month I wanted. The book that I'm reading now is the reason: A Random Walk Down Wall Street. This is the investor's bible and it's massive. I should be done in another week or so though, then it's back to one-a-month.

Resolutions for 2009:

Date more. Eight or nine dates with 5 girls over a span of about six months just isn't cutting it. I'm going to renew my membership to Match and get more active. If nothing else, it'll help me with my next resolution...
Blog more. I'd like to blog at least once-a-week. Of course, it'll help if I have something interesting to write. I'll start off by writing about the last batch of women. We'll see where it goes from there. I'll post book, music, and movie reviews again, and I'll tell all about the siding debacle.

That's all folks, see you in the new year!

'Tis the Season

2008-12-05T23:59:00.001-06:00

Now that Thanksgiving is over, it is the season for holiday parties. Here's a tip from your uncle tinyhands:

You know you've had too much to drink if you fall asleep, even a little bit, while taking a leak.

(Ed. note: Please get really, embarassingly, shitfaced drunk, but do so responsibly.)

The dawn of a new era

2008-11-16T23:59:00.001-06:00

I believe I have found a suitable replacement for my deceased automobile...

My new ride is a 2006 Infiniti G35 Coupe, with sport, premium, and navigation packages. Platinum graphite exterior, black leather interior, six-speed manual transmission, Bose audio, and a power moonroof. To paraphrase Tracy Jordan, I'm going to get so much "nice nice" that I'll have to grow a second dick. (Note: That theory has yet to be proven out.)

The best part is that I've already received my settlement from the Hummer's insurance company. I expected the Miata (which was totalled) to be valued at less than $6000, so with towing, rental car, storage, and taxes I was only counting on getting maybe $7000 all-in. I won't say how much more, but they valued the car much higher. In all, they very nearly matched how much I put down on the G. Yay!

The end of an era

2008-10-17T23:59:00.001-05:00

I am in mourning. Today, at approximately 2:45pm, the era of the Miata came to an end.

The accident occurred one day after my 37^th birthday, and 16 days before her 10^th birthday. She had a tick over 79,000 miles on her. I know that's less than 8,000 miles a year but we loved every minute we spent together.

I had already begun shopping for new shoes for her birthday. With an estimated blue book value under $6000, I expect the insurance company to total her and offer me much less. The airbags alone cost half of that.

The other victim, a 2008 Hummer H3, crossed into my lane of traffic unexpectedly. I believe I had the legal right-of-way, but again I expect the insurance company to screw me.

I am largely unharmed and I declined having an ambulance check me out. I have some minor burns and scrapes on my left arm from the airbag. My left shoulder/neck is starting to hurt a little bit from the seatbelt, but nothing a few muscle relaxers (and a bourbon) won't fix. I also inhaled a bit of smoke/powder from the airbags. I can still kinda taste it and feel it in my lungs a tiny bit, causing me to cough. I'll be fine, apart from the emotional scars.

C is for "Craigslist"

2008-10-14T23:59:00.017-05:00

and F is for "fake bitches all up in that shit." (ed.: We urged him not to try to sound ghetto- he's really very white)

[Note: This is the continuation of the subject begun on September 3rd (scroll down, lazy twat) when we were so rudely interrupted.]

It took me about 30 seconds to figure out that Craigslist is nothing but spammers trying to get you to respond to their ads so that they can sell your email address to someone who wants to sell you v!agra. How did I figure this out, you ask? Allow me to illustrate...

The following 3 personal ads were posted on 3 successive days:


Day 1, Age 33	Day 2, Age 36	Day 3, Age 35

That's right. I fookin p0wn the "Concentration" game and can spot when the same picture is used over and over. This poor girl probably has no idea her picture is on Craigslist, and probably isn't even from Houston. The pictures get reused, with different ages, numbers of kids, etc. It should strike you as odd how few of the women's pictures are horribly repellent. (Although I don't find her attractive, I'm not judging this particular individual.) I mean, the average person is pretty ugly, right? (The exception, of course, being my dear readers) CL women are, on average, way above average. And there is a SURPRISING number of women who are new in town.

This one is harder to spot as a fake, but it's the text that gives it away. It follows a formula used by "Jenny" (a very common name on CL, for some reason) over and over. There are subtle differences to this one, but what caught my eye was that he/she always failed to put a space after the first period: "...my name is Jenny.I am a very fun loving..."

Can you spot what makes this ad fake? That's right, it's the allcaps mad-lib style variable (MUSICTYPE2) that the genius forgot to fill in before posting it. Look closer and you'll see the formula used to generate these type of ads- "Intro: 3 characteristics. Interests and one disinterest. Garbage text. I'm searching for 3 other characteristics. More garbage text. Please contact me." If we're to believe this is real, then this girl is looking for someone who can be attractive. Apparently you needn't currently be attractive.

Note that the teenage boy who posted this ad couldn't even think of more than one FEMALETRAIT. Although the ad body is slightly different, the headline may as well be identical to the previous one. There are enough format similarities between this one and the previous that even if he had gotten the mad-libs right, you should be able to spot it as fake.

So are there any REAL ads on Craigslist? Far be it from me to say absolutely not, but the vast majority are fake. You've been warned: Do not go looking for love on CL.

Post-Ike

2008-09-21T23:59:00.002-05:00

It's been over a week now, so I had better try to wrap it up. Thanks to everyone who called or wrote to check up on me. Truth be told, I've still got a little bit of PTSD over the whole thing. Life isn't quite back to normal, but back to where I left off...

I turned out the lights and logged off at 11:30pm Friday night. The wind was picking up, but I've slept through worse. The storm "hit" at 1:00. That's when the wind and rain got really intense and sleeping was no longer an option. The power flickered (a/c would stop for a sec) a couple of times, so I got up and unplugged the power-strips to both my computer and the big TV. At 3:30, the power went out for good and I immediately started sweating. By this time, it was like a hurricane outside or something. The whole house was shaking worse than I've ever seen, plus it was dark. I wasn't just worried for me, I had my entire family with me and, even though I'm the youngest adult, I felt like it was my responsibility to take care of them. The wind and rain continued for what seemed like forever. Later I would find out that the storm track took it right up the east bank of Galveston Bay, which meant that the eye of the storm completely missed us. But even in the dark, we could tell when the winds had shifted.

The wind continued until about 10am. There was never much rain though. As we cautiously ventured outside, I could see that one of the downspouts to my gutters had ripped clean off the wall and some of my siding was gone. A little bit of rain got inside, but nothing inside was damaged. Then it became just a waiting game for the electricity to come back on. My freezer was stocked with food that my family had brought, as well as a bunch of water bottles that I froze before the storm. I knew it would keep cold for a couple of days at least. Mostly, we made sandwiches and listened to a little battery-powered radio. The kids, however, mostly ran from inside to outside, from upstairs to downstairs, and back again. With the doors and windows open to encourage a breeze, those brats tracked all sorts of dirt & crap into my previously spotless home.

The entire Houston-Galveston area was lucky that the weather after the storm was as mild as it was. If it had been a typical September day, there'd still be bodies out in the street. It was cooler than normal, but that's still pretty warm and I just couldn't stop sweating. That night I took a sleeping pill and managed to get some rest, laying on the cool, hard tile at the foot of my stairs. By Sunday afternoon my family and I were at each other's throats. The radio was reporting over 2 MILLION people without electricity or water and we were told that the expected wait was 3-4 weeks. I knew it wouldn't be that long, but I wanted out. We started preparing to leave for my parent's cabin in the hill country when my brother-in-law, who had ventured down to the suburbs to check on his house, reported (we all still had working cellphones) that the power had come back on. Still, the women and children went up to the cabin while the men went down to my sister's. There was a lot more cleaning up to do down there, but no damage to their home.

I spent Sunday and Monday nights at my sister's in the relative comfort of air conditioning and hot showers. Monday afternoon, my neighbors reported that electricity was restored to our community but I stayed away one more night. Without gas & groceries readily available, I wasn't anxious to come home, but I slept in my own bed Tuesday night under a spinning ceiling fan, just the way I like it. Cable/internet and all the other "comforts" (intarweb pr0n) were up and ready to go.

As of this writing, there are still over 3/4 of a million people without electricity in the Houston area and a nightly curfew. I went to my local sushi bar Friday night, had a cheesesteak today, and went grocery shopping as if nothing happened. There wasn't even a line at the gas station near my home. There are still HUGE piles of tree debris, but the city is nothing like the images of Galveston/Bolivar Penninsula that you've undoubtedly seen on TV. I saw on TV earlier today that some residents of Galveston are being allowed to go home, not that they all have homes to which to go back. I couldn't help thinking of the Katrina people who still refuse to go home 3 years later ... well, I don't know what I think about that. A lot more people were affected by this one, but a lot more people lost their lives in that one. The comparison just seems petty.

Ike

2008-09-12T22:13:00.000-05:00

10pm -- Still no rain. Wind is gusting every once in a while, but no worse than a Texas thunderstorm. TV people say that the center of the storm will pass to the east of downtown, which probably won't make any difference for me. The further east though, the better for my parents and sister. Couple hours yet to go.

7:30pm -- It's a beautiful sunset out there, interesting orange clouds with very blue sky in between. The cloud cover was solid earlier, but there are breaks in it now. The wind is blowing quite a bit, but it's not at dangerous levels or anything. It sprinkled the TINIEST bit around 5. I wouldn't have even noticed if I hadn't been outside.

4:45pm -- I don't want to promise that I'll live-blog the event or anything, since I've got a houseful of refugees who know nothing about my blog and it might make them suspicious, but I'll try to post some updates once in a while. There is currently no rain and the wind is just beginning to consistently blow.

Background info: Go to your Googlie mapper and enter "Westheimer @ Chimney Rock, Houston". That'll show you approximately where I am. It's a good 40 miles from the coast and, if memory serves, over 50' above sea level.

It's hard out here for a pimple

2008-09-03T23:59:00.003-05:00

This is a hard subject to write about because of the audience, but maybe if I just get it out there it'll eventually get easier to talk about. At SOME point - but I'm not saying whether this hypothetical point is in the past, present, or still in the future - I will likely date again. And as hard as it may be to write about, it's even harder to actually do. Movies and television make it look like strangers meet up in the least likely of places: Standing in line to use the unisex bathroom, across the hallway in a West Village walkup, or seated next to each other in first class on a flight to some sexy destination like Birmingham, AL. While I admit that I never lived in NYC to test that theory, I have hung out around a LOT of public bathrooms and, while it wasn't first class, I did recently take a flight to B'ham. I did not meet anyone at either of these locations. (On to Plan B.)

A more realistic scenario, I'm told, is that men and women meet in bookstores, grocery stores, and coffee shops. Something about buying stuff makes people horny, I guess. I can't even stand the smell of coffee, so that's right out. I do spend a lot of time at Half-Price Books (free plug for the hpb) but I have yet to see anyone worth meeting, so I guess you can't look for discounts when it comes to true love. And I fully admit that I'm just too juvenile to pick anyone up at the grocery store. "Hey, I like your melons. Check out my meat."

(coming soon, Plan C and the exciting conclusion)

Note to Self #1

2008-09-02T23:59:00.000-05:00

Note to Self: Do not smoke crack before bedtime. It will keep you up much later than you want and you'll be very tired the next day.

in search of

2008-08-07T23:59:00.003-05:00

The previous quotations were meant to build up to today's post, which is something that occurred recently to me while driving. I usually think up weird shit in the shower, like writing a letter to my parents and sister that reads,

Dear family-
I still love you, but I think we should see other families. It's not you, it's me. You'll always have a special place in my heart.
Sincerely,
-your son/brother

I don't know what's so special about the shower, maybe it's my shampoo. (It's a clarifying formula)

On the other hand, I tend to have deep thoughts (deepER anyway, it's all relative) in the car. For example, last week I was headed to dinner, by myself, at a little Spanish place in Bellaire when the thought of searching entered my head. Specifically, it occurred to me that there has traditionally been a certain nobility associated with those who search. Seekers of knowledge, wisdom, truth. Once upon a time, these were the philosophers and alchemists. Eventually they became scientists or poets and artists. On the whole, these people are still regarded highly (much higher than accountants, if you ask around) perhaps because they're in search of answers, rather than claiming to already know them. I just finished reading God is not Great, by Christopher Hitchens. I won't spoil the surprise ending, but I can tell you that he doesn't think much of people who claim to know the answers.

A day or so later, digging in my garden, I began to think about trees. Trees send out roots in search of water, soil, nutrients. They send up branches and unfurl leaves in search of sunlight. Trees don't know whether rocks abound or whether another tree's growth will outpace its own and keep it in perpetual shade. Trees do this knowing nothing of drought and jumberjacks. Remarkably, trees don't care.

Assuming reincarnation exists, in my next life I'd like to be a tree.

in search of knowledge

2008-08-06T23:59:00.001-05:00

If we value the pursuit of knowledge, we must be free to follow wherever that search may lead us.

Adlai Stevenson

in search of truth

2008-08-05T23:59:00.000-05:00

The true value of a man is not determined by his possession, supposed or real, of Truth, but rather by his sincere exertion to get to the Truth. It is not possesion of the Truth, but rather the pursuit of Truth by which he extends his powers and in which his ever-growing perfectibility is to be found. Possession makes one passive, indolent, and proud.

-Gotthold Lessing

in search of happiness

2008-08-04T23:59:00.000-05:00

The search for happiness is one of the chief sources of unhappiness.

-Eric Hoffer

in search of excellence

2008-08-03T23:59:00.000-05:00

The tourist who moves about to see and hear and open himself to all the influences of the places which condense centuries of human greatness is only a man in search of excellence.

-Max Lerner

Return to the End

2008-07-29T23:59:00.001-05:00

Time for an update, abbreviated version:
I met some online people for lunch a few weeks ago. We ate soup dumplings, then went to a different restaurant and ate soup dumplings. After that, there was another restaurant where soup dumplings were served. Rounding out the meal was a fourth restaurant for soup dumplings.

I had a dream recently that I'd been shot in the back, low. I remember calling 9-1-1 and having to put up with the operator who was giving me a hard time because this was not my first gunshot wound. I was laying face down in the street and the paramedic who arrived to treat me was straddling me, sitting on my upward-facing butt, which was not entirely comfortable. I felt the needle-sticks going into my collar bone, but then woke up laying face down. AND MY PILLOW WAS GONE! (not really)

At that fourth restaurant we had other foods besides soup dumplings (at all the restaurants, actually). Among other things, I ate duck tongues (tasty) and pig's ear (not bad, but not good) and snout (quite good). The group that I joined was somewhat already a group who kinda sorta knew each other. At each restaurant there was always a little discussion about what one member of the group, of (presumably) Russian descent who was absent, would think. I felt like Jan Brady with all the talk about Misha Misha Misha!

If you know me at all, you know I try to keep an open mind, so to occupy myself during the long, hot summer I ordered some gear over the internet. The first kit arrived from Trepanning Depot and was, of course, missing some backordered parts. The second kit was ordered from Trepanation-Haus, but wouldn't you know it, the kit is METRIC. Argh!

Whenever things get rough, I always return to the end. Things are obviously pretty rough right now, but there's always something in the music to light the way and this time is no exception. However, I NEED A VACATION! I wanted to see all of North Africa (Morocco, Tunisia, Egypt) in one go, but it's so bloody expensive to board a plane right now, no matter what countries you're going to or from. I'm thinking about scaling it back and only going to Morocco, but seeing more of the country than originally planned. I'm also considering trying to be in Machu Picchu for the autumnal equinox. Watching China Week on the Travel Channel and all the Olympic stuff gearing up is killing me, since I so loved that trip. But I'm resolved not to go anywhere near China until well after the hoopla has died. I've also considered (and ruled out, due to price) Korea, Vietnam, and Taiwan. Anybody have any better ideas?

A modest proposal

2008-07-11T23:59:00.001-05:00

It's been a few weeks since the immigration debate has made headlines, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't keep talking about it. I've come up with an idea that I think will make a lot of people very happy, since on the one hand it keeps the Hispanics in Mexico (where some people believe they belong) and on the other hand we don't have to build an enormous wall (to which an equal number of people object).

For reference, here's a map of the United States as we now know it:

and as you can see in the map below, I've made a few minor changes:

Most notable is that I've redrawn the southern border such that we have ceded land back to Mexico. This includes the cities of Houston, San Antonio, Phoenix, San Diego, and much of the Los Angeles area. This won't come as much of a surprise to the residents of those cities, since they already have sizeable Hispanic populations.

As compensation to the millions of Americans (white, black, red, brown, AND yellow) who suddenly find themselves Mexican citizens (instant citizenship through a deal with the Calderón government) I propose that we also invade Canada and take over the best parts of Ontario and Quebec provinces, making Montreal and Toronto part of a new American state to be called tinyhandia (shown in maroon). Canada should keep Quebec because we'd just fuck it up, calling it KWA-beck (it's khe-BECK, people), and they should keep Ottowa since it's already their capital and, well... fuck Ottowa. I think we should also grab Vancouver, since I've heard it's beautiful and Americans should be able to go there without having to cross the border, change money, or endure the scrutiny of the locals who know we're going to steadfastly refuse to adopt dollar coins.

I know this is a somewhat radical idea, but this country was founded on radical ideas and I believe you gotta shake things up every once in a while. Also consider the economic stimulus effect on all the map and flag makers who are going to have to revise all their shit! Way better than a measley little $600 check.

Safe words

2008-06-18T23:59:00.001-05:00

BadBeth's comment on my last entry reminded me to publish a warning to all you kids watching at home: Learn from my mistake and don't choose an ex-lover's name as your safe word. When you're shouting out someone else's name, it's only going to encourage your current partner to whip you harder!

The exception to the rule is when you're cheating with a married partner. Your safe word probably should be the other person's spouse. Any of the following are also acceptable:
- Shotgun
- Machete
- Divorce lawyer

(Feel free to leave your favorite safe words in the comments. I may not be able to look you in the eye ever again, but that's only because you disgust me. Don't take it personally.)

Affection

2008-06-16T23:59:00.001-05:00

"One should never direct people towards happiness, because happiness too is an idol of the market-place. One should direct them towards mutual affection. A beast gnawing at its prey can be happy too, but only human beings can feel affection for each other, and this is the highest achievement they can aspire to."

-Alexander Solzhenitsyn

Oops

2008-06-13T23:59:00.001-05:00

Despite warnings from the two most lumberjacky people I know, my ex-girlfriend and my mother, I had an accident with the chainsaw today: My left leg is off, just above the knee. I don't want to bother with the emergency room, so I'm just pressing a tissue on it until it clots. On the bright side, my hair is as soft as Japanese silk.

I had a second, somewhat less critical, accident as well. In the sleepy light of the morning I reached for a, shall we say, love lubricant. However, I grabbed a tube of self-tanning moisturizer instead. Let me just say this, ladies, if you ever wanted a transracial experience from the safety of a white guy with tiny hands (*wink, wink*) you should call me quickly, as I'm told it will fade in 4-5 days. But you know what they say: Once you have a man with no legs, you never go back, baby. I know what you're thinkin'... You seen 'Porgy and Bess?'

I do not think it means what you think it means.

2008-06-11T23:59:00.000-05:00

"He that goeth about to persuade a multitude that they are not so well governed as they ought to be shall never want attentive and favourable hearers." -Richard Hooker, 1594

Syntax error

2008-06-09T23:59:00.002-05:00

since feeling is first

who pays any attention

to the syntax of things

will never wholly kiss you

-e e cummings

2008-06-06T23:59:00.000-05:00

What if this is all there is?

If this is all there is, I probably won't ever make it back to Japan, China, Ireland, or France. I may never make that big trip that I always planned to Vienna, Prague, and Budapest or the other big trip to Morocco, Tunisia, and Egypt. I have no idea if I'll ever make any one of the smaller trips I'd love to make, such as to Peru, Vietnam, or Montreal. It's unlikely that I'll learn more than a few words in another language. I probably won't ever buy a bigger home, a bigger car, or bigger shoes. I doubt I'll ever be a CEO, CIO, or CFO, let alone a CPA, CFA, or CFP. I don't think I'll ever grow a beard. I may never be well-known and I'll never know if I've been missed. I'll probably never hold my own child.

If this is all there is, I'll go to work 5 days a week and come home at the end of the day. I'll try to exercise more and eat less. At least every other week I'll eat sushi at my neighborhood bar, where I'm a regular. I'll cook a fancy dinner for myself either Saturday or Sunday, and then I'll do the dishes. I'll probably eat in front of the tv, watch for a bit more, then crawl into bed with a book for 30 minutes or so before turning out the lights. I'll eventually get my patio the way I want it and "finish" decorating my home. Every couple of months, I'll drive up to my parents cabin in the Hill Country, stopping for BBQ in one small town and pastries in another. Once in a while I'll go out to a club to hear a band, or I might even go see a movie. For birthdays & Christmas, I'll lavish embarassingly large gifts on my nephews and niece. I'll also give my sister's kids candy, get them all riled up, and send them home. I suppose life will go on.

But if there's more...

Later that same day...

2008-05-05T23:59:00.003-05:00

First, I want to thank all the people who had nice things to say after my last post. Everything in it is true, but I struggled with the very last sentence. The preceeding bits poured out like water from a pitcher, until I reached the end. I went through a couple of different endings and settled on that one, which I admit I don't really like either. So, your nice comments are your way of saying you didn't like it either. And even if you didn't leave a nice comment, or left a not nice comment, or thought of something nice that doesn't have anything to do with commenting on a blog, we're cool.

Second, about that thing with the person in that place with the deal... I accept full responsibility for that. I'm pretty sure there's no blame involved, so it just sucks all around. Just like the previous post, everything in it was true and I struggled with the very last. The preceeding bits poured out like water from a pitcher, until I reached the end. The rest, also as before. Comment or not, I hope we're cool.

I know it's been 6 weeks and you're probably hoping for more. I've got more, so this blog isn't completely exhausted, but I am. Ran right out of steam, I did. I'll be back soon.

Easter

2008-03-28T23:59:00.001-05:00

Not having seen my grandmother in nearly a year, I had no choice but to go to her house for Easter. It's a 6-hour drive and I was the only one from my immediate family going. Fortunately, I hitched a ride with my uncle. Unfortunately, I hitched with my uncle. My uncle and his wife talk without listening, so it was a very long ride there and back.

One of the things I was most dreading about the weekend was going to church. I think I've mentioned before that my family is Catholic, although in varying degrees of devoutness. The further I feel from the church, the closer my sister gets, keeping it all in balance I suppose. Most of my family is tolerant of my lack of faith, but I wasn't sure how my grandmother would handle it. She's old school, of course, and has probably never questioned the church.

We (at my uncle's intention) arrived early enough for afternoon Good Friday mass, which has a reenactment of the Passion, followed by Veneration of the Cross (wiki-it, I'm too lazy to link it right now), and then Communion. After a bizarre Passion reenacted by an Indian priest (dots, not feathers), everyone gathered for Veneration. I chose to stay in the pew, rather than kiss the statue and, although my uncle shot me a disapproving look, my grandmother seemed ok with it. Same thing with Communion; I sat behind and it seemed to be ok. Nobody said anything.

Easter Sunday mass was the next test. My cousins arrived from out of town for this, along with their parents who are now divorced. It was kind of strange at first, sitting with my aunt's ex-husband, but I've always gotten along with the guy and the divorce was amicable. As with Friday, I sat out Communion and got away with it. What really got me thinking happened earlier in that Sunday mass. For those of you not familiar with Catholic mass, at one point the congregation is instructed to greet each other. Everyone in my family greeted my aunt's ex-husband as we always did, as part of the family. Afterwards, when we sat down, my grandmother (sitting next to me) leaned over and whispered,
     "I always liked him. He may not have been good to my daughter, but he was always good to me."
I immediately responded with what popped into my head, although I hadn't been thinking about it previously:
     "I wonder if [my former mother-in-law] or [my ex-wife] would say the same thing about me."
     "You were always good to her, from what I could tell."

I spent the rest of the mass thinking about that, since I sure wasn't thinking about the possibility of some dude, 2000 years ago, rising from the dead. I wondered if my grandmother was just being my grandmother, blindly seeing no wrong. Or was she a wise old lady who knows how the grey areas between people in a relationship defy labels like 'right' and 'wrong.' Had I been good to my wife? I never cheated on her, never hit her, never belittled or insulted her. I never abused drugs or alcohol, I never gambled away my paychecks, and I never got bald, fat, and hairy. But those were all the bad things I never did. I sat there wondering if I had been good enough. The fourth anniversary of my divorce is 3 weeks from tomorrow, so it would seem not.

Adventures in Food

2008-02-17T23:59:00.013-06:00

What do you mean once-a-month isn't good enough to maintain my blog? Oh, FINE. Here's what I've been up to...

I had a flash of inspiration about 2 weeks ago, and since I'm an adventurous cook (great idea for a new superhero: The Kitcheneer) I decided that I would invent a new dish for Chinese/Lunar New Year. Rather than honor the year of the Rat (since a KFC/Taco Bell in the Village already did that) I decided that I'd make stuffed squid. The idea was simple: Deep-fried squid tubes, stuffed with asian-y spiced crabmeat.

I started off with some basic ingredients:

- Chinese five spice
- Garlic powder
- Chili sesame seed oil
- Rice vinegar
- 1 can of crabmeat

I also chopped up some water chestnut and fresh cilantro.

On second thought, I'd rather use fresh garlic instead of the powdered.

Add one egg-yolk (not pictured) and thoroughly combine everything in a bowl. Hang on to the egg-white, we'll use that in a bit.

Note: I am intentionally NOT giving you the quantities of each ingredient. For one thing, I never cook with exact quantities of ingredients, so I don't know how much I used. For another, everyone's tastes are different. Get to know your ingredients and you'll know how much of each to add.

Now pull out those icky, slimey (read: yummy) squiddies. I found these in the frozen section of my local People's Market for the Glorious Distribution of Foodstuffs to Honor Dear Leader. They're already cleaned, so just thaw them out and pull the tentacles out of the tubes.

Now stuff 'em. Don't waste those tentacles though. You can see, I rolled them in flour and am about to fry those too.

As with all things in life, if you don't want a premature end to the fun, you've got to get your tubes tied. I used unwaxed, unflavored dental floss.

Finally, dip them in the egg-white and roll them in flour.

Now fry, blot dry, and dip in your favorite sauce. I'm dipping in Ajinomoto-brand Gyoza sauce

The result: They were WAY chewy and quite disappointing for all the work involved in stuffing them. I should have just sliced the tubes into rings and made calamari, as I originally intended when I bought them.

I wish I had seen Jaden's post about Chinese New Year traditions & superstitions before I started cooking. She writes that squid is very unlucky at New Years, because they resemble the rolled-up blanket/bedroll once given to workers when they were laid-off. I probably wouldn't have heeded this advice anyway, because I'm both a man and stubborn (see also: redundant) therefore nobody tells me what not to do. While chopping the cilantro, I sliced off the tip of my left ring-finger. Either because I was dizzy from the blood loss, or because I was now doing things wrong-handedly to protect my bo-bo, I accidentally touched the edge of the fryer and gave myself a little burn. Strike two. The third strike came unexpectedly in the form of foam. I've never seen this before or since, but the oil in my fryer became quite foamy, and by the third batch of tubes, overflowed and spilled EVERYWHERE. At that point I gave up and threw away the remaining uncooked tubes (not much, actually) and commenced cursing fluently in every language I've ever heard. It took me a good hour to get a basic level of clean back to the kitchen, and several more days to get back to the surgical sterility to which I'm accustomed. *sigh* But will I pay heed in the future to superstitious warnings? Not as long as I've got a dick!

New Post

2008-01-13T23:59:00.000-06:00

I don't feel like blogging, if you hadn't noticed. It's a little bit of not having any good stories, a little bit of already telling my one good story per week to the two people I talk to, and a lot of feeling Seasonal Affective right now. I still feel like I just got back from a great vacation and now I'm unhappy because I can't go on vacation again for a while.

But I'll give you two thoughts on politics, which is a popular topic right now.
My first observation is that all the candidates are talking about change:

My second observation is that on January 3rd the voters of Iowa decided that Obama and Huckabee were the two best candidates. Then, less than a week later, voters in New Hampshire decided that Clinton and McCain were the two best. I don't take this to mean that there are differences between Iowa and New Hampshire or that the candidates have clarified or improved their positions. Since most Americans can't find either state on a map, the obvious conclusion is that they're the same. Thus, the changing opinion on candidates means that Americans are flip-floppers, that ALL Americans (because the states are indistinguishable) are therefore flip-floppers, and come this fall I'm not going to vote for a flip-flopping American. QED.

Aloha, part 2

2007-12-30T23:59:00.000-06:00

All things must come to an end, and so too did our Hawai'ian vacation. The last 3 days were every bit as busy as the previous.

The day after the lu'au, we drove up to the north coast of the island. We started out at Anaeho'omalu Bay (that's A-Bay to you haoles) where the beach was nice but the snorkeling sucked. We saw some petroglyphs after lunch and then drove up to Hapuna Beach State Park. The surf was up and the sand soft, but we didn't stay long. We crossed the northern neck over to Honoka'a and then down to the Waipio Valley (below, with Maui in the distance). We didn't go all the way down into the valley, since that would have been like climbing Everest on the way out. Next time. From Waipio, we drove into Kamuela (Waimea) and saw Jake Shimabukuro live in concert!

The following day, we rented a couple of kayaks and paddled across Kealakekua Bay to the State Historical Park and the Captain Cook monument. Captain James Cook commanded several voyages for the Royal Navy in the late 1700's, "discovering" the Hawai'ian archipelago in 1778 and naming them The Sandwich Isles. (Trivia: On his first trip to the Pacific, Cook commanded a ship named 'Endeavour' after which NASA named one of its space shuttles. On his second and third voyages, he was accompanied by another ship, 'Discovery' after which NASA named another shuttle.) Captain Cook met his fate at the hands of the native Hawai'ians at this spot on 14 February, 1779. In any case, the north end of the bay where the monument stands is only accessible from the water (hence the kayaks) and makes for some great snorkeling. The only downside is the 45-minute paddle BACK across the bay. That night we went to another lu'au. Unfortunately, the nicest thing I can say about that evening was the company.

Our last day on the island was a blur. We went to the international marketplace for gifts and souvenirs, to the drugstore to develop film, to Wal-Mart for more souvenirs, back to the farmer's market for even more souvenirs... with all that crap, it's amazing that we managed to repack our suitcases. For a while there it looked like we were going to have to leave some stuff behind. We took an overnight flight back to the mainland and made our goodbyes in Phoenix. After nine and half days together, I know Beth was glad to finally be rid of me and get back to her family. The price for that, however, was going from 82-degree weather on the island to 28-degree weather at home.

Just as aloha means hello, it also means goodbye.
We now return you to your "regular" blogging.

Nani lu'au

2007-12-19T23:59:00.000-06:00

We started out snorkeling at Kahalu'u Beach Park, which may have been Beth's first time snorkeling. This was an interesting beach because fresh water coming down off the mountainside (Hualalai) bubbles up from underground through the sand here. You can feel it, since it's noticeably colder, and you can see it as well- when the fresh water mixes with the ocean water it makes the water cloudy and visibility sucks. But if you swim out about 40-50 meters, the visibility improves and you can see a few things. I saw a Moray Eel and some reef triggerfish, the state fish of Hawai'i. (Ask Beth to say the local name.)

After lunch, as some storm clouds were rolling in, we decided to try to ditch the crowds and try snorkeling another site, Honaunau Bay, outside the Pu'uhonua O Honaunau National Historical Park (it is still forbidden for non-Hawai'ian-Royalty to enter the water here). But by the time we got there, the winds had picked up to the point that getting in and out of the water would have been too hazardous. We went home to nap and get cleaned up for the Kona Village Resort lu'au that evening.

The lu'au was moved indoors on account of the weather, but the food and entertainment were top notch (Mmmm, po-kaaay). The accomodations at the Village also looked excellent, so if you're looking for a place to stay, this place gets my recommendation.

How to see Oahu in 14 hours

2007-12-13T23:59:00.000-06:00

It seemed a travesty to go all the way to Hawai'i and not see the island of Oahu. But I was already laying out a bunch of money just to get there and it was looking like another couple hundred for the inter-island airfare. Fortunately there was a pricewar going on just as we arrived and we scored tickets for $20! After renting a car from the world's worst car rental company (Advantage- seriously, they suck! Do not patronize them) we started with the memorial at Pearl Harbor, where there were more Japanese tourists than Americans. At least they were respectful; wish I could say the same for the Americans. From Honolulu to the west coast (with a brief stop at the pineapple plantation) at Haleiwa (below). We continued clockwise around the island and drove past the famous North Shore where the big surf competition was underway. Along the east coast with stops at a few scenic spots such as Kahana Bay (below), Kualoa park, and the Halona Blowhole. We ended the evening on the famous Waikiki beach.

To tell the truth, traffic on Oahu was pretty miserable and the weather wasn't much better. I was very happy to be back on a plane at the end of the day to the much more serene big island.

Pu'u 'O'o

2007-12-12T23:59:00.000-06:00

The big island is actually named Hawai'i. It is nicknamed "the big island" because it is more than twice as big as all the other islands combined. Should you ever visit the big island, everyone you meet will feel compelled to reveal this fact as though nobody else is allowed to let you in on the secret. It really is a big island though, and it takes a good 3 hours to drive from the Kona coast (west) to the island's biggest city, Hilo (east coast). We drove to Hilo to see Rainbow Falls and Akaka Falls. Hilo is also the best starting point for a helicopter tour of the current lava flow, not flowing from Kilauea itself but a vent named Pu'u 'O'o (pronounced Poo-ooh oh-oh). At the time of our visit, the lava was not flowing into the ocean (my fault) and was not erupting violently (also my fault), just ungodly hot (unless your name happens to be Pele) lava oozing out of this vent. Too far to hike, the helicopter is required. Beth and my mom initially said they wouldn't go, but when faced with the reality of being in Hawai'i and NOT seeing the lava, they relented. Little did they know, they'd be in the front seat together. Rumour has it, it was the highlight of the trip.

Anuanu mauna

2007-12-11T23:59:00.000-06:00

From the active volcano (Kilauea) to the dormant one (Mauna Kea), we set off early the next day to climb the world's tallest mountain. World's tallest if you include the part under the ocean, which nobody but Hawai'ians do. Still, at nearly 14,000 feet, it's pretty tall and high enough to give you headaches and other altitude-related ills. We started at the visitor center at 9,200 feet and got acclimated for a couple hours. Later, the rangers led us up to the summit for a tour of the undisputed best ground-based observatories on the planet. It was freezing-ass COLD up there, and had snowed only a few days earlier. Yes, it snows in Hawai'i. We stayed for sunset, then back down to the visitor center where they let us look through some much smaller telescopes at more stars than we've ever seen, nor will likely ever see again. (The entire island of Hawai'i imposes light ordinances to enable the stargazing.) Capping it off, we saw 2 satellites and a shooting star streak across the sky.

Kapu moku

2007-11-25T11:26:00.000-06:00

I've been on other volcanic islands before and I've always had the general sense of, "Ok, so this place was created by molten rock that came out of that mountain over there." *shrug* But yesterday we went to Volcanoes National Park and saw the lava flows in person. Not fresh lava, as that's flowing too far away to which to hike, but we saw the devastation caused by countless millions of tons of liquid earth. Words fail to describe it and pictures barely capture a fraction of seeing, in every direction as far as the eye can see, the field of devastation.

Also, at sunset, I was the most southern man in the United States. Or southernmost, whichever. But it was at sunset, so that makes it official, in the recordbooks.

Mahalo

2007-11-24T10:51:00.000-06:00

We spent the morning of "Black Friday" at the farmer's market. Fortunately, you don't have to get there at 4am to get a good deal. Lots of seashell jewelry and fresh fruits. In the afternoon we drove South down the coast to Kealakekua and Honaunau. Saw some sea turtles that crawled up on the beach to rest and some lush, nearly-rainforest hills. There are flowers everywhere, mostly bougainvilla (in every color of the rainbow) but some plumeria and even HUGE pointsettias. Here's sunset yesterday and just before sunrise today...

Aloha, part 1

2007-11-23T11:08:00.000-06:00

Dispatch from the Big Island...

It's 7am Friday, that makes it about 11am back home. I've been up for about 2 hours. Beth and I met up in Phoenix and flew together from there to Kona. We're here until next week, staying with my parents. Contrary to my regular vacation philosophy, there are no plans. There's plenty to see and do, but we'll get around to it whenever we feel like it.

This is the beach across the street from our condo, sunset yesterday...

I don't like my nuts in your mouth

2007-11-04T23:59:00.000-06:00

Slow Children At Play

2007-10-17T23:59:00.000-05:00

School Zone

2007-09-30T23:59:00.000-05:00

Both of my readers have been after me to write something, even though I talk to them all the time, so there's nothing they don't already know about. Still, they bug the piss right out of me, so it's easier to capitulate and write than endure the hissy fit any longer. Here are my thoughts on the new Fall TV schedule...

Monday:
Big Bang Theory (7:30, CBS) - Nope. Watched the first episode and felt like I'd already seen it. All the "gags" were already in the promos, so the rest of the filler wasn't worth it. Also, I hate studio audiences that will laugh at anything.

Chuck (7:00, NBC) - Maybe. First episode wasn't terrible and the acting wasn't half bad. The premise is a little weak, but it's kind of funny to see them poking fun at Geek Squad/Best Buy and others. These nerds are more believable and likeable than Big Bang Theory's. I'll give it another couple of weeks.

Journeyman (9:00, NBC) - Yes. I was a little worried with the special effects that kind of suck, but I really like Kevin McKidd (Rome) and the ending of episode 1 was really good (so good, in fact, that I didn't erase it from the DVR). I just wish network execs weren't so afraid of letting a Scottish actor use his Scottish accent. Are Americans not sophisticated enough to handle it?

Tuesday:
Reaper (8:00, CW) - Probably. Whether it's all in my head or not, the influence of Kevin Smith appears to be all over this show, and I'm more than ok with that. The pilot was pretty amusing, though I didn't expect that from a show on CW.

Wednesday:
Back to You (7:00, Fox) - NO! I watched the pilot and felt really bad about myself afterwards. It's trying to be an Anchorman rip-off and fails miserably. No chemistry, no character, and another artificially enthusiastic studio audience- ICK! The only thing funny about this show is that I bet Fox spent a fortune getting Kelsey & Pat. HA!

Life (9:00, NBC) - Probably. Another British actor (Damian Lewis- Band of Brothers) disguising his accent, but this cop drama has some realistic humor too. I particularly like that he's a Zen practitioner, though I bet it irks the family values nazis who patrol television like it's their job to protect us from anything that's not evangelical Christianity.</rant> NBC has spent some money on this show though, in all the right places. Hello Fox?

Thursday:
Big Shots (9:00, ABC) - Maybe. This is basically "Desperate Executives". The pilot wasn't awful so, like Chuck, I'll give it a couple more weeks.

Friday:
Moonlight (8:00, CBS) - No. I wanted to like this cop-vampire show, but the acting is TERRIBLE and the production is pretty lame. I think they tried for a bit of a Sin City feel, but didn't go all the way, so it just sucked.

Sunday:
Tell Me You Love Me (8:00, HBO) - Yes, but I don't love the show. It's kind of uncomfortable for me, for personal reasons, to watch couples struggling with their relationships. Still, there's some good nudity & sex, so I'll keep watching.

Not yet aired:
Aliens in America (Mon, 7:30, CW) - Looks promising.
Cavemen (Tues, 7:00, ABC) - Promises to be terrible.
Carpoolers (Tues, 7:30, ABC) - Not sure how the story will last more than 1 episode.
Pushing Daisies (Wed, 7:00, ABC) - Looks very promising.

New, but not Interested:
Gossip Girl, K-Ville, Cane, Bionic Woman, Private Practice, Dirty Sexy Money

I'm Still Watching:
Heroes (Mon, 8:00, NBC)
Rules of Engagement (Mon, 8:30, CBS)
Boston Legal (Tues, 9:00, ABC)
My Name Is Earl (Thu, 7:00, NBC)
30 Rock (Thu, 7:30, NBC)
Ugly Betty (Thu, 7:00, ABC)
ER (Thu, 9:00, NBC)
Desperate Housewives (Sun, 8:00, ABC)
Brothers & Sisters (Sun, 9:00, ABC)

Keep Right

2007-09-11T23:59:00.000-05:00

I don't figure anyone really wants to read a day by day recap of where I went and what I saw while on vacation up north, but here's the highlights and you can see photos over on Beth's blog:

Coney Island: Ate a hot dog on the boardwalk, rode the Wonder Wheel and the Cyclone. Astroland is now closed, apparently forever, so if you haven't gone you missed it. If you hurry you can still shoot the freak.
Yankee Game: My jinx against professional sports also works in the TriState Area but it was well worth the price of admission to eat a hot dog in the house that Ruth built. Yankee Stadium is due to be demolished after next year, so get off your butts and go see it.
Philly: Independence Hall is more impressive than I thought, but I think the right tour guide makes all the difference. Liberty Bell is just so-so, imho. Also saw Christ Church and a pretty weak King Tut exhibit. Ate the best cheesesteaks (ploural) in town.
Atlantic City: I don't really like my gambling to be so family-friendly, but the boardwalk and beach kick-ass. I won $18 at video poker but still had to pay for my own buffet. Where's the comps?
The Cloisters: What the hell is the protocol on the "recommended" donation? I didn't really want to pay the whole $20 but I'm not going to give those museum snobs the satisfaction of looking down at me.
Wall Street: Pet the bull, greed is good.
Central Park Reservoir: Why is everyone else walking counter-clockwise?
Chinatown: Yum yum dim sum, my first xiaolong bao. Oh yes, I will be making these at home. Something's amiss when parking costs more than dinner though.

The worst part of any vacation is going home. Yes, there's the tears, but even worse than that is the airline food. Can you believe Continental, my favorite airline, now serves Hot Pockets!? Airline food has never been anything close to "cuisine" but Coair used to do a decent job of not killing you before you reached your destination. On the flight there, I was served a chicken sandwich that looked like a hamburger. Where I come from, chicken patties are breaded, without exception. So I guess I shouldn't have been surprised when on the flight home they served a "chicken wrap". But as I live and breathe, that was no wrap and I've got the diarrhea to prove it. 'Nuff said.

Merge

2007-09-09T23:59:00.000-05:00

So tired. I just spent the last 9 days dragging Beth all over the Tristate area looking for "soup dumplings" (xiaolong bao) and cheesesteaks. Fortunately for everyone, I was eventually successful and nobody got hurt. No, rephrase: My feet hurt.

But I was planning to be in New York for Fashion Week anyway, so it worked out nicely: I do my little turn on the catwalk then power my way through the cheese fries. It's going to take me a few days to digest all this and readjust to home, so I'll give you a more fuller update in a day or two.

Yield

2007-08-24T23:59:00.000-05:00

Exit Only

2007-08-15T23:59:00.000-05:00

Last night I finished the book mentioned in the previous post. As I mentioned before, there's a lot of psychology in the book and only the very last chapter gives any hint at how to apply all that research for fun and profit. Allow me to recap:

We want to be happy in the future, but since we can't see the future directly, we imagine what it will be like and we imagine what will make us happy. Three things prevent us from having an accurate imagination. The first is the fact that we fail to imagine every detail of the future, some of which are critically important, such as how quickly the happiness of the acquisition of some thing fades. The second thing is our tendency to imagine the future based on how we feel today, the over-buying groceries on an empty stomach, for example. The third failure of our imagination is our under-reaction, in the future, to events we perceive as important today. For example, getting divorced was something I imagined much worse than it really was.

The final chapter gives us an alternative to our imagination: Asking someone else. Instead of imagining what it's like to go to Hawaii, we could read a travel book or talk to someone who has been there. The author points out, however, that our ego usually prevents us from taking this tactic. We tend to believe that our experiences are unique and that we're somehow different from everyone else, when the truth is that we (even strangers) have so much more in common. Thus, we usually revert back to imagining our future-selves wildly happy and we wind up puzzled that our current-selves aren't as happy as our past-selves imagined we'd be.

My own opinion is that the author is right, with one small exception: relationships with specific individuals. The author claims we should learn what will make us happy by talking to someone with first-hand knowledge of the thing we wish to experience. However, if my girlfriend talked to my ex-wife and ex-girlfriends, she's likely to learn all the things that make those girls my exes. That wouldn't make anyone happy.

In other news, I've started a new experimental (and likely to be temporary) blog based on the fact that my dick is so big that it has its own blog.