Thursday, December 31, 2009

End of the "Naughties"

Aaah, the close of another decade.
Soon, we'll all be enjoying that "new decade smell" or whatever you want to call it.

Some places in the world are already enjoying the new decade, I hope they're being careful with it, don't spill champagne all over it now. It's brand new, for cryin' out loud! Some people... sheesh.

I don't know who originally coined the phrase "The Naughties" for this past decade, but whomever they are, I tip my hat to them. Well, my proverbial hat anyway. That was just brilliant. I can't come up with one for the 10's... let's hope someone is already on that because "the tens" kind of sucks.

I know you probably came here expecting me to throw out some soul-searching remembrances of the past year, but meh. I'm not in that mood today. No, I'm looking forward to the future. Bring on the new year and a new start. A fresh decade for a new beginning. You know, after that month of writing the wrong year on everything. Came close to writing 20010 yesterday... yeah, I shouldn't be looking THAT far into the future.

So, today's post is short but sweet. Whoever you are and wherever you live, here's hoping for a wonderful new year. Celebrate safe, and I'll see you in "the tens."

Tennies?
The Aught Tens?
Yeah, I suck at that. Come on "Naughties" Genius! We need you!

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

My Christmas Gift to My Twitter Friends

Since I just got finished making a batch (it's cooling on the table now) I thought I'd share a favorite recipe with you. Merry Christmas. Don't blame me if you can't stop eating it. I can't.

Caramel Puffcorn

Preheat oven to 250 degrees (121c)
1 deep saucepan
wire whisk
1 aluminum roasting pan
Wax paper

Ingredients:
1 16 oz (large) bag of your favorite Puffcorn snack. Butter flavored works best.

Carmel sauce:
1/2 lb (2 sticks) butter or margarine
1 C. Brown Sugar
1/2 C. Light Corn Syrup
1 tsp Baking Soda

In saucepan, melt butter, then add brown sugar and corn syrup. Cook over medium/high heat for 2 minutes until uniformly mixed. Add baking soda. It will foam up as you mix, at this point I use a whisk to stir it up. Mix for about 1 minute.

Dump bag of puffcorn in to roasting pan, pour sauce over corn and mix well.

Place in oven for 45 minutes, mixing every 10 minutes or so.

Spread out wax paper and spread mixture on paper to cool and harden. Once set, after about 30 minutes or so, break up any large clumps.

Recipe can be doubled safely, after that there's not much mixing room in a standard roasting pan.

Enjoy.

I think mine's ready. :-)

Monday, December 14, 2009

Adventures in Grocery Shopping

Hello again,

So today turned out to be a pretty interesting day after all. I was sick of working in the HellRoom, (HellRoom, "Collector of THINGS") I was tired, hungry and ready to start dinner. One problem though, I had to go to the store to get stuff to make dinner. Dinner does not magically appear unless you order it first and pay ridiculous delivery fees.

Fine.

I put on my shoes and coat and left the house. On my way to the car, I noticed an old man, probably in his early 60's, maybe younger, he didn't look like the type to have had an easy life. Anyway, he was staggering his way through the snow and wasn't breaking any speed records on the way. He was coming from the store and had 2 grocery bags. He was wearing sneakers, blue jeans and a silver, springtime windbreaker. It was padded, but not nearly enough considering it's 10 degrees.

I got in the car and pulled out of the driveway and was attempting to navigate around him when I noticed he was flagging me down. First thought? Great... the rummy wants some cash. I couldn't just blow by him, so I pulled over and rolled down the window. "What's up?" I asked, in a kind of annoyed voice.

"I just had a stroke 2 weeks ago and I'm having a real hard time, can I please get a ride home? Its not far."

So not what I expected.

I thought for a second, decided I could take him in a fight if it turned out to be bullshit, then I opened the door and let him in.

I pulled the car around in the intersection and headed towards his house. We talked on the way there. His speech was slightly slurred but he spoke clearly, albeit quietly. I caught myself asking him to repeat himself a few times, and felt badly about it because it was my deaf ass having problems, not him. He told me that his brother couldn't or wouldn't take him to the store and that he was really hurting as a result of his trek. He thanked me several several times for picking him up and was practically in tears when, about a mile and a half down the road, we pulled into his driveway. He apologized for not having a couple of dollars to offer me for the ride, I told him not to worry about it and wished him well, told him to take care of himself. He shook my hand and said "God bless you, man. I really appreciate your help."

I offered to give him a hand with his bags but he climbed out saying that he had it. He got out of the car and made his way up the driveway. I waited until he got up on his porch before I backed out.

This was a truly nice guy who needed a hand and I was glad that I put my initial impressions aside and was able to help him out. I never got his name, but I hope he will be ok.

Oh and I went to the store, came home and made tacos. Just in case you were wondering.

Of course they were awesome.

Thursday, December 10, 2009

Bad Wiring

Hello again.

So I'm sitting here, typing this out on my Apple MacBook that I've had for several years now and am now officially in love with again. My MacBook was suffering for quite a long time with a horrible case of narcolepsy. It was suffering, I, on the other hand, was livid. Completely random failures are infuriating to begin with, but this thing threw in a serious case of "bad timing" with it.

I'd hit "enter" after typing in my password on my bank website, sleep.  I'm 5 GB into a 5.5 GB file transfer to my network drive, sleep. Sometimes it would go weeks without a hiccup, other times it would be in such a hurry to go back to sleep it wouldn't even finish waking all the way up from me pounding on the keyboard.

There were more than a few times this thing almost wound up being a silicon slick in the middle of the highway.

I suppose I could have taken it in to Apple and had them fix it for about half the cost it would take to buy a new one, but I don't have that kind of money, so I lived with it.

I did some digging though and found what I was 99.9% sure was the problem. A faulty sensor, the one that can tell when you close the lid. I scraped up my pennies and eventually ordered the part from iFixIt.com. I got the part sooner than expected and within 1 hour my MacBook was cured.

Now, if only my brain worked like that. (How's THAT for a segue?)

I've realized just how hard-wired I am when it comes to certain things, and just how crossed some of those wires are. This entry, for example. Every time I type out "Hello" (including that one) I stick a W on the end. Hellow. Why? What is that all about? The first one I can understand, but I knew what I was going to say in this paragraph, and I did it anyway? In my head I guess "Hello" is spelled H-E-L-L-O-W-Backspace.

Another quirk is how I will be watching something on TV and talk back to the voiceover guy.  Let's say I'm watching some medical show and the announcer says something like "He suffered a severe compound fracture of his right leg." to which I will reply "As opposed to a mild compound fracture." Or a show like Cops: "He was found to be illegally in possession of stolen merchandise" as opposed to being legally in possession of stolen merchandise. And so on. Again, it's automatic. Even if I don't say it  I'm thinking it.

 I retain lots of stupid crap too. I can't remember my mom's birthday, but I can sure remember a line from Monty Python or some obscure thing someone said to me once. Here's a lovely example that is just perfect for the holidays:

Many years ago, an old girlfriend of mine used the term "missile tits" to describe the unusually perky parts of another woman's anatomy. I never heard that term before, or I think since, used by anyone. I DON'T EVEN USE IT. I don't even think about using it... until...  I was at the store and they were playing Christmas music on the overhead. The song in particular was "I'll Be Home For Christmas" -

some of you have already figured out where I'm going with this... congratulations, you're on my level.

I'm happily strolling through the store, pushing my cart and quietly singing along...

"please have snow... and missile tits" Wait, WHAT? It was automatic. I was glad I was singing quietly to myself. Why would my brain sabotage one of my favorite holiday songs like that? It doesn't even rhyme. Now every time I hear that song, that's the line I have in my head. Its stuck like glue.

Oh there are more, but I really don't want to make myself look like any more of a whack-job. I think I have a bad sensor too and I doubt iFixIt has any of those in stock. I guess I'll just live with it.

Saturday, December 5, 2009

Jobs

So have you ever looked at something, or been taking something apart and wonder about the people who made that thing in the first place? What it must be like? What that job might entail? How happy and/or miserable the people doing the job are? I do that all the time. Especially if the thing I am looking at is made in some far-off land, and is particularly cheap and superfluous,  I wonder what these people must think of us.

Yes, really.

I guess that's why two of my favorite shows on T.V. are "Dirty Jobs" and "How It's Made."

Yesterday, I had the distinct displeasure of de-lighting a pre-lit Christmas tree. We bought this thing 4-5 years ago thinking it was a great idea. No messing with lights, just pull it out and start decorating. The first couple of seasons, it was that easy and I loved it. Then, the inevitable started happening... bulbs started breaking, burning out, etc. It was pretty sad looking. You think finding the bad bulb that kills half your string of lights is hard enough, try it on a tangled mess that is a pre-lit tree.

So there I was, the three sections of my tree laid out in front of me. My original thought was to remove the lights, get them working again and possibly use them elsewhere in the house. Noble idea, right? Recycle, reuse, save the world kind of thinking.

That lasted about 10 minutes. Then the wire cutters came out.

Even with wire cutters, it took me over 2 hours of struggling labor to get those stupid fucking lights off that damn tree. Needless to say, my budding holiday spirit was taking a serious beating by the time I was done. Towards the end, I was snatching mutilated sections of used-to-be Christmas lights from the tree like I was a warrior snatching the beating heart from the chest of his enemy. There can be only one.

Finally, I was finished. Fake pine needles everywhere, a pile of segmented lights at my feet. I was victorious.

But you know? The only thing that kept running through my mind was the worker that did that job so well in the first place, and it probably only took him or her 15 minutes. Let me tell you, that was some serious good work. If I look at a string of lights too long, they get tangled. This person managed to twist the lights around branches and TIE KNOTS with it to keep them in place. ON PURPOSE. I've never in my life tied a knot in a string of lights with the intention of doing so. Oh and did I mention that this wasn't your ordinary, straight string of lights? Oh no, it had funky splits in the wiring so it (I imagine, I'm not going all "forensic files" on Christmas lights)  made a big loop. It was amazing to behold, and I compliment whoever did it on a job well done. I'm sorry I had to forcibly cut the fruits of your labor from my tree and crush it under my boot, but sometimes you get to be the tree, sometimes you get to be the dog.

Or something like that.

Thursday, November 26, 2009

Happy Thanksgiving

Today is just a quickie.. those are good once in a while, right?

Just wanted to wish you all a Happy Thanksgiving. Pull up a chair and have a slice of pie.

A lot of cynical people out there think that Thanksgiving represents gluttony and football. Well yeah, duh. That's part of it for sure, but it's much more than that. It's a day we set aside to give thanks for everything we have and all that we are as as people and a culture. Traditions for the holiday run deep through all of us and we all have some fond memories of Thanksgivings past. The people and locations may change, the meals might be just a little more healthier than they used to be, but in the end we're all celebrating together, making new memories. It's about family and friends getting together and spending the day appreciating the people near and far that we share our lives with, missing those we have lost and being thankful for everything that we have and that we share.

Sharing. Sharing our lives, our love and our bounty. Individually, we may not have much, but bring it all together and we all have a feast.

So thank you for stopping by and sharing this with me. I'd so let you have the drumstick if you wanted it. Paws off that thigh though, that sucker's mine.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

More Random Thoughts

Ok, so I felt like writing, but don't really have a specific topic in mind. Since when has that ever stopped me? I suppose I really should start numbering these "random thoughts" posts, but meh, that's a topic for another post.
--
Thanksgiving (in the US) tomorrow. We're all piling in the car and going to my sister in-law's house for the big feast. It's nice in that we get to hang with all the local family for the day and we don't have to cook. However, that puts a serious crimp on one of my simple pleasures, the leftover turkey sandwiches over the duration of the weekend. Remedy? Another feast scheduled for Saturday. Just us. At home. All the leftovers I want. Still have to cook.
--
Speaking of cooking, I have been on a quest of late. I want a waffle iron. No, really. I want a waffle iron. Why are they so hard to find? I suppose I should clarify... I want a REAL waffle iron, not a Belgian waffle iron. I want my waffles to have lots of little hickeys, not a handful of huge ones. You know, like Eggo waffles. Like the ones mom used to make. Saw one at the thrift store the other day, looked like it was from the 1950s, the handle was broken and it had a cloth power cord. I almost bought it. The old ones are cool because you could actually take the plates off to WASH THEM. You could also flip them over and lay the unit fully open to use it as a griddle. They were awesome! Why don't they make them like that anymore? Progress. Meh.
--
Black Friday is coming and I want to put this out there for those of you who will be standing around outside your favorite store impatiently waiting for it to open early. Give the employees a break. If you've never seen what your typical department store looks like during the overnight restocking process, you'd be amazed. That's just on a normal night. Thanksgiving night is that x2.

First of all, you know how it goes. You pigged out on turkey and all the trimmings, you've cleaned up the dishes and you're struggling to get your ass off the couch to go grab another slice of pie. Now imagine having to get up and go to work. All night. To make things even more fun, not only do they have to do all the work they normally do on any given night, they also have to help set up special displays for "doorbuster" deals, arrange and prepare stock in the back so daytime employees can keep a steady stream of product going to the floor, and get it all done EARLY. More work, less time, all kinds of fun. Then there are the daytime employees, they start streaming in early and put the finishing touches on displays, unbox and prepare stacks of product and try to get everything ready.

Then the doors open and all hell breaks loose.

Most people don't realize this, but some stores will see more business in the first HOUR of Black Friday than they'll see in an average DAY. Some stores do more business on BF than they do in an average week, or a month even. That's why its called "Black Friday" - most stores ledger sheets don't show a profit for the year until that day.

If it's in the store they want to sell it to you. If they say they are out, they are OUT. There's no more in the back, they don't have to go look. They're not saving anything for the employees.. more than likely they had to punch out and go stand in line with you to get back in. Yes really.
--
It's starting to feel like winter in Minnesota. Not that I'm happy about it mind you, but with the way this winter started, back in the middle of October, I figured we'd be ass-deep in snow by now. Instead, it got surprisingly pleasant for a few weeks. Now it's getting colder and they're talking about snow tonight.

Here in the northern US, a favorite phrase of tv weatherpeople is something along the lines of "a big push of cold air coming down from Canada." I wonder what Canadian weatherpeople say? Who do they blame for their cold air? The north pole? Siberia? Mars? As far as I'm concerned, it's all theirs and they can keep it, please and thank you. :-)
--
And finally, speaking of Canada... I'm finding myself hooked by a show made there called "How It's Made" - This show is brilliant. It's on one of those brainy cable channels like The Science Channel or something and it's just wonderful. Each show focuses on 3 things, they are COMPLETELY random, and shows step-by-step how each is made. When I say random, I mean random. Like one show can have running shoes, light bulbs and corn flakes. The next could be truck tires, baseball bats and stuffed animals. Look it up and check it out.

*whew* I think I got my writing bug taken care of. If you made it this far, thank you. The next one will be more focused. I hope.

Monday, November 23, 2009

Selective Memory

So I was out at the thrift store today, as is my usual Monday ritual. (Mondays are "customer appreciation" days so they knock off 25%) The trick is to be able to maneuver around the professional shoppers that are there to load up on eBay fodder. Some of those old ladies can be tough, they'll take you out at the knees if you get in their way.  You can't be afraid to hip-check them into a display stand and step on 'em to get to that bargain.

Oh relax... it's a joke. I've never purposely hip-checked or stepped on anyone.

Anyway, today's excursion to the store reminded me of something. It's funny because every single year without fail I complain about this same thing, yet every year, right after the holidays, I promptly forget all about what brings on my wrath and hatred.

They were playing Christmas music. Ok, we're close enough to Thanksgiving in the US that my typical "its too early" rant won't hold up... but I'm not complaining about just any Christmas carol. Oh no, this  partciular musical tribute to the birth of Jesus Christ is singularly the most annoying carol since "The 12 Days of Christmas."

Oh, see? You thought that's where I was going with it didn't you? Oh no, that's way too easy.

I'll give you a hint, parum-pa-pum-pum.

Every single time I hear "The Little Drummer Boy" I not only get visibly annoyed, but wish against wish I had SOME way to turn that insipid tune OFF.

It's horrible! How can anyone actually LIKE that song? What's worse, virtually every Christmas record ever made by countless artists from countless genres have made a version of it. You know why? Because every single one of them thought they could do a GOOD version of that song. Every single one of them were DEAD WRONG. It's not POSSIBLE.

I play drums. Not so much anymore, but I do play. As a drummer, I've lived my life avoiding pissing off friends, family and neighbors with my playing. It's not that I suck, but drums by themselves are not all that great to listen to unless you really like listening to drummers play by themselves. That's not a large percentage of the population, people. Sure the odd drum solo at the concert is pretty freakin' cool, but buy the live CD of that concert and see how many times you skip past the drum solo song. Yeah... time and place, people.

So an entire song about a little boy going to the manger to play his little drum "song" to the baby Jesus just kills me. I can see the wise men rolling their eyes in "when is he going to be done already" fashion. Jesus would probably be crying. Mary would be trying to comfort the baby and Joseph is glaring at the little drumming shithead.

Which one of you made a joke about the livestock being nervous? Hahahaha... get bent. :-P

The premise is stupid, the song is lame and it should be wiped from all human record as soon as it is physically and technologically possible to do so.

Other than that, it's ok. Ha.

Funny thing is, like I said, December 26th? I'll forget all about this song... until next year.

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Plague, Dogs and a guy in a cloak.

Howdy folks, ok I'll admit it, I'm totally winging it today. There's a good reason for that though, I have the plague. Yep, the black death. I'm sure of it. No flu is this bad. I thought I dodged that H1N1 bullet, but I guess I just wasn't fast enough, pardner. Bury me with my boots on. Hmm.. better buy me some boots first, then bury me in 'em. 

And will someone get this guy with the black cloak and sickle outta here? He's blocking the tv. Hey! Down in front! Jerkoff.

My dog, Hunter has been in bed with me all day. He's a good ol' loyal beagle. Well, loyal or opportunistic as hell, I'm not sure. He likes to sleep under the covers of course, so there's this Beagle-sized "HunterLump" in the middle of the bed. Oh and he kicks his legs when he's dreaming. Yeah, it's as much fun as it sounds. I named him Hunter before I found out he's afraid of anything that sounds like a gunshot. Thunder, fireworks and umm, gunshots I suppose. Poor dog, the 4th of July is hell on him.

But then, it's funny what kind of neuroses you find in dogs. Goofy shit sometimes to be sure. My friends Lee (R.I.P. bro) and Karen had a boarder collie named Ian. Ian was a fun, playful, wonderful dog that was just a riot to play with. Ian had a couple of interesting quirks though... odd things made him slink away in fear with his tail between his legs.

First, there was the ducks.

More generally, anything that even remotely sounded duck-like. If you looked at Ian and made a Donald Duck sounding little quack noise at him, there he'd go, slinking away, never taking his eyes off of you. One time we were all sitting around the living room, drinking of course, and all took turns quacking at Ian. He'd slink from person to person looking for someone to save him from the quacking.

Oh don't get your undies in a bunch, we only did it a couple times, then we all gave him treats so it was all good.

Then there was the tubes. Paper towel tubes, toilet paper tubes. STRAWS. Ok, the duck thing I can understand... maybe he pissed off mama duck when he was a puppy or something... but STRAWS? I don't know if there was a difference between bendy or regular straws.

Come to think of it, my other dog, a Pomeranian named Sampson has a few quirks of his own too. One, he hides... under the couch, under the chair, under the bed. Any time the going gets tough, the tough go under the recliner and bark ferociously from there. Yeah, um, not so fierce there boy.

His other thing is that he loves his toys. He'll play with his tennis balls for hours, but he loves his stuffed, squeaky toys. He'll wrestle and flip his little stuffed critter around the room, chase it after he throws it and then throw it again. And then, he humps it.

You read that right.

It's not just a couple little quickies either. I swear I start hearing some smooth jazz playing in the background after a while. To paraphrase a line from Family Guy "Ok Sampson, you were dominant 15 minutes ago, now you're just on vacation."

Hunter is kicking me in the leg again so I guess that means it's time to wrap this up. The guy in the cloak is looking kinda bored too and is starting to rummage through the dresser. I better keep an eye on him.

Friday, November 13, 2009

Change in Direction

One of the things I really love about writing this blog is that it forces me to think once in a while.

Last night, I ran to the grocery store to get stuff for chicken fajitas. (which came out awesome, by the way) I pulled up in front of Cub Foods and what I saw made my heart sink a little bit. Really? Already? A little early, don'tcha think? But yes, there she was... the Salvation Army bell-ringer. Red kettle at her side, she stood there ringing her bell, trying to get people to throw some change in the bucket. It's a brilliant campaign, "help the poor or we'll make you feel GUILTY!" Shame on you for not throwing some change in that bucket! I immediately thought I had the subject for today's entry locked up, a full-on rant about the whole deal.

Then I woke up this morning and started thinking about what I wanted to write. Sometimes, a funny thing happens when you start thinking instead of acting on impulse... you remember  things. Things that change your perspective. Things that remind you of the person you used to be before you became so cynical.

Sherman, set the Wayback machine for sometime in the early 1980's - we're going to Mundelein Illinois.

The first job I ever had was at an Aldi store. For those not familiar with Aldi, it's a chain of grocery stores that sell off-brand or store-brand food at huge discounts. To be fair, a lot of it is from big-names, but it's their "discount" brand level stuff. Anyway, I was the... I forgot what they called the position, I'll call it "grunt." I pushed carts, I swept, I mopped, I took care of trash and cardboard, I cleaned bathrooms, etc. etc. etc. Not a glamor job, to be sure.

That winter was a tough one. It was cold, there were a few big snowstorms that just kept us buried under a thick blanket of the white stuff. There, in front of the Service Merchandise showroom store next-door was the Salvation Army bell-ringer. I remember seeing him getting dropped off and/or picked up every day by the same beat-up van. He was a middle-aged black man, I think he was from Waukegan. I couldn't tell you his name, but I knew he wasn't thrilled about having to stand out in the cold and the snow for hours on end. The store he was in front of was barely tolerant of him being there, they wouldn't even let him come inside the entryway to warm up, unless it was below zero.

I'd see him almost every day and I made it a point to always have some change in my pocket to throw in his bucket. I'd hang out and talk with him for a little while and then head in to work. As the days went on and the nights got longer and colder, I'd bring him a little thermos of soup so he could have something hot to keep him from freezing out there. Then, one night, he was gone. I don't know how they do it, maybe his time was up, maybe they moved him to another store, but I never saw him again. I felt like I had lost a friend. I have no idea what happened to him, but I hope he is well.

I haven't thought about him in years... and that thought reminded those are real people out there ringing those bells. They all have their own stories and histories that brought them to that store, standing in the cold, ringing that bell for your pocket change. I don't know about you, but I almost never carry cash anymore. I think I'll start making sure I have some change in my pocket again.

Thursday, November 12, 2009

Finally! / #BoobieWed

Finally!

      Ok, sorry. Its been a couple weeks since I last updated this journal. See, this is the same problem I had every other time I've tried blogging. While I have nobody to answer to other than myself, this time it's different. I've started following other journals and blogs and have started to feel some sort of peer-pressure. I'm 44! Peer pressure? Really? Shit… it never goes away does it?

     I have to admit, its not just peer-pressure. I know I have a couple card-carrying followers, and several others who check in regularly. To anyone who is actually reading this, I say thank you. I appreciate the fact you take the time to come here. I'll make sure there are regular content updates so you have a reason to continue doing so. Some will be better than others - you have been warned.

      Yesterday, Loripop posted a brilliantly funny piece on "Writer's Block." I read it and laughed my ass off because it was so dead-on and I could instantly identify with the entire thought process. That's been me for the last 2 weeks. I've tried writing updates during that time, I think I have at least 5 posts that started out with a good idea and quickly descended into chaos and mental wandering before finally being saved and shunted into the "Finish When You Get a Clue" file. Of course, some of them are pretty topical, so they're either already past their shelf life or will be soon. Whatever, this ain't the Chicago Tribune. Maybe I'll get 'em out, maybe not.

-----

     As I'm writing this, I'm watching The Early Show on CBS. They just did a story on a medical study being conducted in Australia that could be good news for survivors of breast cancer. They just completed successful studies with animals and are getting ready for human trials. What's the news? Using stem cells encapsulated in a biodegradable package full of some sort of growth media in order to regrow natural breast tissue. They say it will be difficult because humans have a defined period of growth whereas animals tend to continue growing throughout their lives, but they believe it will work and could be available within 3-10 years (10 for cosmetic purposes).
      Anyone who follows me on Twitter knows I've jumped on the Boobie Wednesday (#boobiewed) bandwagon with both feet. In fact, I planned on talking about #boobiewed in the second half of this post, the news story was just a happy coincidence.  I admit it, I love breasts. Big breasts, small breasts, happy medium breasts. Pillows, melons, mosquito bites, rocks-in-socks, natural or *ahem* augmented, breasts rock. What's not to like? They're squishy, they're fun, they're curvy and they make plunging necklines waaaaaaay more interesting. However, while I love breasts as much as the next person, that's not the main reason why I'm on the #boobiewed bandwagon. Breast cancer affects EVERYONE. Guys, us too. We've got the same plumbing, just not all the padding. Self examination is key, catch it early and it can be taken care of relatively easily and save your life. I have a sister in-law who survived breast cancer, but wound up losing a breast in the process. Luckily, she has been cancer-free ever since. This woman is a saint. Or at least she will be, eventually. (Hopefully, many decades from now.) I'm doing this for her and for every other person who has had to go through the ordeals of varying stages of breast cancer. It's a horrible disease that attacks the most fun, eye-catching, comforting and yes, nurturing part of the human body. Squish a boob, save a life. Oh, and when you're not squishing boobs, stop by the Boobie Wednesday Blog and Store. $2 from each purchase will be donated to the National Breast Cancer Foundation. They are trying to raise enough money to donate a mammogram for Christmas. I think that's a great reason to buy an awesome mug or t-shirt.


Edits:
1) Added link to CBS News video
2) Corrected estimated time for availability of treatment
3) Corrected donation amount.

Thursday, October 29, 2009

Simple Pleasures (Or "Its 1:30 am, what else is there to do?")

So it happened again. I dragged my tired body to bed before 11:00, fell asleep for a grand total of about 15 minutes, and woke up. Great. NOW what?

It's just about 1:30 in the morning as I write this, perched on the edge of my bed, in the dark, watching Nicktoons and eating a bowl (my second) of BooBerry cereal. Hey, don't knock the Boo, when I was a kid I used to LOVE those "monster" cereals... FrankenBerry, Count Chocula, and in a pinch, BooBerry. I think they had a wolfman-based fruit cereal for a while, but if I remember correctly, it was like eating crunchy Juicy-Fruit gum. Yeah, it was pretty brutal. Oh yeah, that's it! Fruit Brute! But I digress, those other three are the classics, they are pop-culture cereal ICONS, or at least they were. Nowadays, they only appear on the shelves in most stores in October. If you see 'em, stock up, they won't be getting more. (Until next year anyway.) For my international readers out there that may not have a freakin' clue as to what I'm talking about, check HERE.

No, I'm not turning into a shill for General Mills fine line of delicious and nutritious breakfast cereals. Part of this balanced breakfast, when served with milk, juice and toast. No no, nothing like that. The point I'm making is that... well, I kinda forget the point, but that's not important right now. What is important is that I am now out of cereal and it's 1:45. Kappa Mikey is on Nicktoons and anything close to an idea that I had for this post is now lost in a sugar-coated fog of caffeine-induced insomnia.

Oh yeah, I remember now. Duh... "Simple Pleasures"

I am a firm believer in growing older, but not up. Every once in a while it is important to do something just for the hell of it. Be a kid again. Take yourself back to the time when your biggest worry was that you forgot to do your science project over the weekend and you'll have to throw something together during lunch. Right now, I'm sitting on the edge of my bed in my house in Minnesota. In my mind, I'm on the floor in my parent's living room on a Saturday morning, back in Mundelein. The good cartoons are on, I'm full of cereal and I got the big pillow on the floor. Life is good.

I think I'll just snuggle in and enjoy it for a while. *yawn*

goodnight.

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

More random thoughts, this time with a topic.

The day before Halloween is my birthday. This year, the 30th of October will mark the start of my 44th year on this planet. No, this isn't a "mid-life crisis" freakout post, my freakout year was 30, when I realized I wasn't going to be 20-anything anymore.  No, this is just a little reflection as the clock keeps on tickin'.

I don't know how many teenagers/twentysomethings read this, but I'll throw this out there just in case. Getting older is nothing to be afraid of. When I was younger, getting old scared the hell out of me. I hated the thought. Wanted no part of it, thankyouverymuch. Obviously, I wasn't so against it as to not continue aging, but I wasn't looking forward to it at all. Turns out, its not so bad. However, there are a few things to keep in mind as you travel onward through life's journey.

Take out a sheet of paper and write down everything that annoys the piss out of you about old people. I'm not talking about the stuff that can't be helped, I'm talking about habits, moods, opinions, attitudes. Write an actual letter to yourself about how you hope to act, about your current political thoughts and feelings and WHY they are important to you. Tell yourself what kind of old person you want to be. Fold it up, put it someplace safe. Keep it. Read it once in a while. Remind yourself of who you want to be. Sounds dumb, but it's real easy to become conservative, resentful of change and yes, scared of young people as you get further down the road. I lost mine in one of my moves. Do a better job of keeping track of yours than I did.

Technology will start leaving you behind at some point. Deal with it. You will pause when one day you catch yourself saying something like "When I was your age, we had to actually TYPE our messages on our cellphones." .. to which the kid you are talking to will undoubtedly ask, "What's a cellphone?" - At that moment, congrats, you are behind the curve.

Fashion will start leaving you behind at some point. Somewhere along the line you will find a "look" that works for you and that's pretty much where you will get off the fashion train. People who wear shorts, black socks and sandals were never on the fashion train in the first place so don't worry about turning into a disaster.

All your favorite music will be on a "classic" station someday. Your kids will criticize your favorite songs. You'll browse the CDs at some super-mega store, or be looking at downloads on some music service and realize that you have no idea who most of these singers/bands are.

Now, none of that sounds particularly wonderful, right? Here's the good stuff you get to look forward to.

At 35, you're officially old enough to run for President of the US. After that? Age-wise, there's nothing you can't do, except collect social security.

When Steve Martin was a comedian, he said it best. "When you get older, you get prejudiced. Not against race, but against THINGS.  You can just close the door. Someone comes up to you and says 'Hey! Let's go try this NEW THING!' *slam* Sorry, we're closed." I did some stupid shit in the name of fun new things back in the day, now I'm a little more selective. Less abrasions and brushes with death this way.

Probably the best webcomic ever, xkcd got it right with this one: http://xkcd.com/166/ - This guy probably had NO IDEA how right he was. Way more fun than it should be. Do it for the LULZ. Oh that was right? That's ok... it immediately un-cools a saying when old people start using it. 

Wanna really make the young-un's twitch? (not too young, mind you.) Start talking about sex. Make a big deal over it. If they try to cover their ears and drown you out, talk louder. Don't go into gross detail about it, just enough to be cringe-worthy. Let their imaginations run with it. Creeps 'em out every time.

You get more comfortable in your own skin. Oh sure, you want to look good, but the point is that you don't care who sees you in what state of dress anymore. Whatever. Don't like me running around the house in my boxers? Go away. My house, my rules. I used to be pretty uptight about being shirtless in public, etc. Now I just go with it. Life's too short to worry about what others think. Ok, I still put on pants when I answer the door. What a hypocrite.

If you get carded somewhere, it's a compliment. Ok, it's probably just store policy, but you're still more than happy to pull out that ID.

You get to see and play with all the cool, new shit. Sure I loved my high school years, but then a home computer was a Commodore Vic-20. The Atari 2600 was THE gaming system to have. Internet? Yeah, sorta. More likely if you were in college. I took a Basic programming class in high school using a green-screen dumb terminal attached to the school's slow-ass mainframe. Handheld games sucked. Cell phones were suitcase-sized and mounted in your car. The handset had a cord. You had to be rich to have one. (I didn't) Stuff in general is soooo much cooler today. Twenty years from now, you'll say something similar.

No matter how old you are or how old you feel, someone older will happily call you an asshole and say something like "I wish I were still your age!" Surprisingly, that helps.

And finally...

Your clothes will come back in style. So will those looks that you were glad to see go away. You'll wonder what the hell those kids are thinking, but it will provide a great source for humor. Run with it.

So yeah... 44 coming in about a week. I'll raise my glass and make a toast to all my friends and family that couldn't make the trip with me, then just keep on keepin' on. Hopefully, there's still a long way to go. Like Jimmy Buffett said "I'm growing older, but not up."

Saturday, October 17, 2009

When you least expect it...

Sometimes things happen for a reason, I guess.

     Yesterday, I looked at a calendar and had a realization. That this morning was going to be 15 years since my father passed away. I cannot believe for  a moment that it has been 15 years already. It hit me hard, it always does. Every year at this time, I suffer selective amnesia and wonder why I'm suddenly feeling moody and irritable. Sad and kinda depressed. Then I look at a calendar and check the date. Yep. Shit.
     It was 15 years ago this morning that I walked into my father's hospital room, to find him alone, mouth agape and stone-dead. We had gotten the call from the hospital that he had taken a turn and that we should get there as soon as possible. We weren't fast enough.

I love my dad and I still think about him almost every day. This time of year is usually pretty lonely, miserable and sad for me.

    Something happened yesterday that really helped pull me out of my annual funk. Funny thing is, it happened on Twitter... the very service I was bitching about in my last post. Yesterday, there was a social media fundraiser for cancer research. If you saw people tweeting, blogging and FaceBooking about #beatcancer, that's what it was all about. Every mention of #beatcancer netted another penny donation. It was a 24-hour online love-in to help one another and those that we care about. Loripop put it much more eloquently than I ever could, so I'll let you go read her account of events. Go ahead, I'll wait.

.... ok, long enough.

     It was amazing. The whole atmosphere of that thing was completely opposite of everything I had bitched about here the other day. I felt good, I had fun and hopefully, I helped some people who really need it. When it ended this morning at 9:00 am, I was tired (not as tired as Lori mind you, but tired nonetheless.) but I felt good.

Thing is, I'm still feeling good. Cancer didn't take my dad, it was a heart attack and misdiagnosis that took him from us, but knowing my dad and the kind of person he was, I'm sure he felt better too. That instead of sitting around in a bitter funk, I used the time to help someone else, even by doing something simple like tweeting the night away, brought him some peace. I know it did me.

Today, that good feeling from this morning is still with me. I spent the day celebrating my dad's life, not mourning his death. I think that phase is finally over. I guess #beatcancer helped me too.

Thanks to all who participated, it really was a special time.

Thursday, October 15, 2009

Social Media Gone Bad. #balloonboy

    I'm really doing this one off the cuff here, so please bear with me. I feel a need to rant.

    I had just started using Twitter when the whole "election" controversy sparked up in Iran. Thousands of folks showed up, made their avatars green in one way or another and helped spread information to each other. I witnessed all kinds of support being offered in any way possible. It was amazing.
    And today it is repulsive and vile. Earlier today, a 6 year old boy by the name of Falcon Henne reportedly climbed into a basket (meant for batteries and equipment) on his family's experimental Mylar weather balloon. (They are storm-chasers) The balloon became untethered and it took off. Helicopters eventually caught up with the balloon and tracked it for 2 hours until it finally came down in a farmers field. What they didn’t know was that the basket was missing and the boy was not inside the compartment that was present on the balloon. They are now starting a search along the flight path. (presumably from before the helicopters caught up to it, since none of them recorded anything other than what came down in the field, there was no other basket attached.)
    My heart goes out to this family. Young boys are always getting into stuff they shouldn’t and I see this as nothing other than a horrible accident. As of this writing, there is no word as to his location or condition, but I’m hoping for the best while expecting the worst.
    I’m also hoping the family isn’t following the #balloonboy hash tag on Twitter. Sure there is an outpouring of support and concern, but it is being drowned out by insensitive bastards that see this as a golden opportunity to crack lame jokes, spam for videos… someone has reportedly already designed and is trying to sell t-shirts. This is a 6 year old CHILD, people. A 6 year old child who undoubtedly was scared out of his mind, cold and, sad to say, most likely dead now after a fall of a couple of thousand feet. (as I said, I don’t know. Nobody does right now.) Shut the hell up with your retweets of a paraphrased Kanye West talking about Amelia Earhart. Seriously. Grow up. One day you will have children of your own and realize that shit like this just isn’t funny.

/Rant.

Thanks for reading/following. The next one will be more entertaining, I promise.


UPDATE:

It appears that 6 year old Falcon Henne was not in the balloon after all and has been found at home, hiding in a box in the attic of their garage.

I'm so glad to hear that.

Now it's time for the professional talking heads to beat this story to death. Changing channels to the cartoon network.

Thursday, October 8, 2009

The Social Web We Weave

Two in one day? Yikes. I must be feeling better.

Back in the day when "social web" meant "MySpace" I avoided it like the plague. I've gone to school, got a degree in web design and e-commerce (just in time for the bubble to burst) and MySpace was the anti-thesis of any kind of coherent web design. Craptastic backgrounds, annoying animations, unreadable text, pages that didn't scale so you had to side-scroll because of some big-ass image the user posted. Don't get me started on the music that would start blasting. (thanks for sharing, where's the pause button?) MySpace was just horrible on all counts.
Others followed. Classmates.com, Facebook, Twitter.... Suddenly, "The Social Web" was really taking off and everybody was doing it. I begrudgingly started to dip my toes in, mainly because I was searching for some old high school friends. The ones I didn't find on MySpace (gag) found me on Facebook. I'm still not real big on either of those sites, but I pop in from time to time just to keep in touch.
Twitter, on the other hand, has me hooked. It's not just Twitter, its all the mash-ups that go with it. twitpic.com, 12seconds.tv, blip.fm - they all help complete the experience. Twitter by itself is kind of an exercise in patience. First off, there's the spam. You get followers that want to tell you how to get whiter teeth. You get followers that want to help you get laid in your own home town. You get followers that want to send you to their "naughty" pics. Then you get followers that want to tell you how you can make money on Twitter by being a spammer. (Tip number one, present yourself as a female and include a picture of a cute girl. no kidding.) Twitter by itself tends to turn into a pissing contest as to who has the most "followers." People will follow you at random, thinking that you will return the favor and help boost their count. I don't auto-follow anybody. First, I make sure you're not a spam-bot of some sort. Then I check your tweet history. Some people have nothing better to do than tweet every 2 minutes. Sorry, but if I log into Twitter and I see nothing but 3 pages of YOUR tweets, I'm unfollowing you just as fast as I can get to that button. If you're doing nothing but tweeting links to stories from digg.com or fark.com, I already have those sites open, so goodbye. If you have nothing but your own agenda in mind and won't take the time to reply to a message I sent to you, then we're done.
Of course there is a lot of intolerance out there too. Recently, I had been following (and had been followed by) a woman and her brother. I never really knew the brother very well, but, I'll call her "Blondie" and I talked quite often. It wasn't anything other than innocent chat between a couple of people that had some things in common. Then one day I dared to make a tweet that exposed my more-centrist-than-liberal Democratic viewpoint. The brother tweeted me and told me that I was a "FUCKING MORON!" and had unfollowed me within an hour. About a week or so later, I realized that "Blondie" wasn't replying to me at all... I asked her what was up and she eventually got around to telling me that her husband didn't want her messaging other men, that "she is married." Well duh. I knew that already and as I said earlier, our conversations were nothing but innocent. I figured she (as a full-on right-wing, red-state, Glen Beck following) Republican didn't want to associate with me anymore. That had to be it because her husband's wishes sure weren't keeping her from talking with the other men who were following her. Whatever. Life's too short. I waved goodbye in a tweet and pulled the plug.

But then, there are some good people that come along. Recently, I met someone named loripop326 on blip.fm. She's refreshing to say the least. Someone else who believes that Twitter is a place to play and actually interact with other people. I started reading her blog (shesawake.blogspot.com) and others that she follows, and that got my writing bug started again. She's fun, she's honest, she's not judgmental. Ok, she's judgmental but she's fun and honest about it. Through her, I am starting to meet other people who want to have fun and actually socialize on Twitter. I've only got about 60 followers on Twitter and most of them are strictly informational. Others are just part of the constant, random stream of consciousness that is Twitter. Because of her, I have actually started to make friends on Twitter, (hi drdon911) and started losing some of the cynicism that was creeping up about the service. For that, Lori is teh awesome. (Even though she's Canadian. LOL) Thank you Lori.

Now if I could just get a couple more followers here. LOL

Maytag Repair Man Has Nothing on Me!

Ummm. except it wasn't a Maytag appliance. Nor was it a washer or dryer. Other than that, I'm the man.

Ok, so last night I thought it would be a good idea to bake up a quick pan of brownies. There were only two problems with that:

1) There was nothing quick about it.
2) It wasn't a stellar idea.

ok, three problems.

3) They wound up costing me $47.50

They actually turned out to be not bad - a little underdone, or "extra fudgy" as I like to call 'em.

So here's how it went. I already had the batter mixed and poured into the pan and was waiting for the oven to heat up. I waited. I waited some more. Why isn't this thing beeping to let me know it's hot yet? Ok, sometimes I get a little impatient waiting for the oven so I left the kitchen for a little bit. An HOUR later I checked the oven and it had crept up to about 275 of the required 375 degrees. That let me know that we did indeed have a problem, Houston. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot.

I threw the pan in the oven anyway and hoped for the best. It took about another hour and fifteen minutes, but I finally had my "extra fudgy" brownies.

Today I marched into the kitchen, tools in hand, ready to take on the not-so Hotpoint range. After about 15 minutes I had it narrowed down to two possible culprits. The control unit (retails for anywhere between $130-$200) and the heating element. (Retails for about $45) I called a local appliance parts store and talked to one of the guys there. (Dey Appliance Parts in Saint Paul) I got directions and made my way out there with the element.

Anyone who knows me knows my luck always trends towards the greater of two evils when it comes to stuff like this. I almost never get off cheap. Thus, I was actually talking to the heating element all the way to the store... "You better not work, you S.O.B." and "Come on, just be bad." were the most common.

I got there, he tested the part and whaddia know about that? It WAS bad. Turns out the little heat I was getting from the oven was coming from the broiler element, which "assists" in keeping the heat even. I was never so happy to spend $45 on a part for anything. It was all I could do to keep from doing a little happy dance right there at the counter.

I came home, put the whole thing back together, plugged it in, didn't die, and tested it out. It lives! It LIIIIIIIIVVVVEEESSS!

I think I'll make a pan of regular brownies now.

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

Observations from being sick.

Monday, I woke up with that feeling. You know the one... the start of what will be a cold that you are certain has no other purpose other than to kill you. Death by mucous. Oh yeah, baby... we're talking hardcore here. Luckily, this isn't the H1N1 plague that has everyone in a tizzy, it's just a plain-jane cold. I did the flu earlier this year, that was fun too.
So yeah, after spending a couple days/nights in a mucous and cold medicine-induced fog, I've come up with a few things that I feel need to be said.

  • I will never forgive them for neutering NyQuill just so they can keep it on the shelves. When you took the pseudoephedrine out, the drug addicts won! NyQuil blows now, the drug addicts found a way to make meth in smaller batches (with less PE) and I'm still looking for a good replacement. Thanks for nothing.
  • God Bless Proctor & Gamble for making Puffs tissues infused with Vicks VapoRub. Pure genius.
  • Someone needs to make facial tissues for MEN. Make 'em big. Make 'em strong, yet soft. Add some lotion to it so our manly noses don't get all red. (P&G if you're listening, Vicks would work too.) Put 'em on a paper towel roll. Put a guy like Brawny on the package. Us guys who use 2-3 tissues at a time will buy them. In the meantime, I'll keep using my Puffs and wait patiently for my check. Million dollar idea here, I better get a cut.
Ok, so maybe they didn't need to be said, oh well. Too late now.

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

Introduction.

Hello and thanks for stopping by. Consider this your welcome warning because I don't know what the hell I'm going to do with this blog or how long I will be doing it. Tried blogging before but realized that spilling my guts all over the internet for everyone to see wasn't exactly my cuppa tea. Still isn't, but since my last attempt, I've actually gotten on a couple of social networks and have kept up with them for the most part, so I guess we'll see?

Maybe, if absolutely nothing else comes of this, it will force me to learn how to write in complete sentences again. Damn you, Twitter! 140 chars. whn U he a lot 2 say makes U look like a fking idiot. I no its cool & all, but srsly, 2 have to keep it undr 140 sux smtimes! LOL Every time I am forced to write something like that, I can hear my high school English teacher. No doubt, he would have hated this. Sorry, Mr. McNally.

But then, I suppose I should save my Twitter rant for another post. Yeah, that'll work. LOL ROFL

If you want to read a blog by someone who is actually good at blogging, be sure to check out http://shesawake.blogspot.com/ - I hope to be as interesting someday.

Thanks for stopping by, hope to see you again soon.