This is stupid.

Fine, Resolutions Or Whatever

2012-01-02T21:17:00.002-05:00

I didn't make any resolutions for 2011, but that's not unusual. New Year's resolutions have never resonated with me. I prefer thinking that if there is something I could be doing or changing to make my life better, the moment I realize that change has about a 99.7% chance of being on a better day to take action than New Year's Day. If you feel you need to lose weight or quit smoking on January 1st, there's a fair chance you needed to do those things on July 1st as well. It also feels like a setup for self-sabotage, since if you fail early into the year, you get to shrug and tell yourself next year will be different.

That having been said, though, I don't think I'm giving the practice enough credit, or potential; it should be more than obvious health changes. My friend Chris does great end-of-year life evaluations, of which his previous year's resolutions are just a part. I'm wondering if the compilation of a list, while not preventing a qualitative assessment of the past year, can offer at least a more accessible framework for how I should be looking back.

So here be a list of intentions, if not exactly resolutions:

Write more. It doesn't matter what. Technical blog posts for work, simulated conversations from my head, private entries—even tweets. Don't worry too much about it being funny or interesting, just do it.
Read more. Books, specifically.
Be more active, physically. This needs to happen.
Sleep less. This sounds like a new father gimme, but I'm not even kidding. I've never slept well, so instead of spending hours not sleeping, I could be trying other activities (see #1, #2, #3) which could even lead to me … sleeping better.
Avoid eating meat unless it has been offered by someone else and to refuse it would be rude, or if not eating it would waste the meat.
Do more creative/constructive projects that don't require me to sit at a computer.
Maintain a 2012 music album ranking. I don't have hobbies as much as I do dabblings, but I do manage to love listening to as much music as I can, and I'd like to make a stronger effort at qualifying my efforts.
Master the semicolon.
Take a motorcycle camping trip, regardless of how brief, or even if I'm wearing briefs at all.
Inbox-zero.
QUIT CHEWING MY DAMNED FINGERNAILS

An Iconic Marauder Metal Band By Any Other Name...

2009-04-05T19:30:00.009-04:00

While in Washington D.C. last weekend, I was idling through the Washington Post Express. Towards the back, tucked unobtrusively into a corner, where newspapers often keep their apologies for previously printed mistakes, was the Corrections section containing a single guilty admission:

An Iconic Marauder Metal Band By Any Other Name..., originally uploaded by tichaelmucker.

"In Thursday's Weekend Pass, a photo of the pirate-metal band Alestorm was used instead of the Viking-metal band Tyr."

If your veins course with blood or your lungs swell with oxygen, you no doubt find your mind full of questions, and your soul aquiver with nervous excitement. You are not alone.

In the [what I can only imagine to be] cutthroat world of heavy metal outfits who further specialize themselves through association with classic marauder icons, this has to fall under the old "any press is good press" idiom.

Let's get the obvious straightened out.

THIS is Alestorm:

And THIS is Tyr:

That settled, you are probably wondering if they're real. Well you can bet your grog bucket they are. What say you to some links of ultimate proof?!

Behold, Alestorm: http://www.myspace.com/alestorm

Behold, Tyr: http://www.myspace.com/tyr001

Oh, and if you happened to notice that some of the members of Alestorm are sporting kilts, there is an unexpectedly thrash-t'Och!-ular reason. Turns out, they aren't just a pirate-metal band. They are a SCOTTISH pirate-metal band! Ergo, kilts.

Now by Odin's hammer, do the right thing and have a listen to choose your favorite.

Nova Scotia, and Why I'll Never Ever Go There

2009-02-17T16:49:00.005-05:00

I'm sure Nova Scotia meant well. I get what they were doing. Really, how were they to know where I am, personally, with the whole iPhone/smartphone situation.

It all started when [letstalkabout]Lauren subversively and without warning sent me the following link:

http://www.pomegranatephone.com/

By the end of the animated introduction, I had spilled my coffee all over my desk and had armed my left hand with a healthy-balanced credit card, while my right hand was desperately clicking for anything resembling a "Buy it now" or "Purchase online" or "Please To Give To Us Your $$" button.

This was it! This was the iPhone killer I had been waiting for! Oh, I could see it now: The yellow glow of the happy iPhone owner slowly transitioning to green as I nonchalantly pulled out my Pomegranate phone and began interacting with it in ways nobody had even though of before [including me at this point].

They would say, with reserved jealousy, "What...is that?"

Then I would be all, "What? Oh...this? S'nothin', just got a new ah, I guess you would call it a 'phone' but really—" and at that point my Pomegranate would start hovering in the air and emitting a soft, pleasing hum, as I would have just received a new IHM (Instant Hologram Message).

"Excuse me, I need to take this..."

Oh, it would be glorious.

Apparently unable to purchase immediately after the intro, I seemed forced to learn more about the device, which I had already decided to buy, based solely on the name and my own imagination.

If the first thirty seconds made a willing customer of me, the next ten made a fool. As my hungry, wanting eyes continued searching for purchase instructions, I couldn't help but notice the feature list, which I really cared very little about.

I guess it was probably "Coffee Brewer" that begin my sudden spiral into utter disappointment and anger. And disappointment. Everything had been going so well. But coffee brewing—that just didn't make any sense at all! Razor? HARMONICA?!

I had been duped, and Nova Scotia had done the duping. Within a minute, I experienced the heights of elation, then like the rust scrapings under the burn barrel of infinite despair.

If you haven't clicked yet, you won't understand. It was like being a kid, and being given an ice cream cone, then having that ice cream cone yoinked away, all for a lesson about how no, you couldn't of course have some delicious ice cream NOW, because you were but small, but just imagine when you were a grown-up and could have ice cream whenever you wanted!

Now go back to that analogy and replace "ice cream cone" with "a life-size robot-dinosaur named Tronasaurus Rex who is your loyal companion and has total disregard for rules and parents and bedtime and has laser eyes and a comfortable seat on his back for you to ride upon it."

That's what it was like, finding out the Pomegranate didn't exist. And that's why I won't ever go to Nova Scotia.

Ever.

Cap'n Boots McCoffee, Jr

2008-12-11T15:06:00.002-05:00

This is my coffee mug. It was given to me by a friend many years ago and has never been washed, in the "classic" sense.

It holds only black coffee.

Cap'n Boots McCoffee, Jr, originally uploaded by tichaelmucker.

Long Time No Meme

2008-11-26T22:43:00.007-05:00

Ok, you and you—I'm bored...I'll bite. I'm picky about these things though, so this list is wholly unpadded with things I've only "kind of " done.

Things I've done in bold cinnamon:

1. Started your own blog
2. Slept under the stars
~~3. Played in a band~~
~~4. Visited Hawaii~~
5. Watched a meteor shower
~~6. Given more than you can afford to charity~~
7. Been to Disneyland/world
8. Climbed a mountain
~~9. Held a praying mantis~~
10. Sang a solo
~~11. Bungee jumped~~
12. Visited Paris
~~13. Watched a lightning storm at sea~~
~~14. Taught yourself an art from scratch~~
~~15. Adopted a child~~
~~16. Had food poisoning~~
17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty
~~18. Grown your own vegetables~~
~~19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France~~
20. Slept on an overnight train
21. Had a pillow fight
22. Hitch hiked
~~23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill~~
24. Built a snow fort
~~25. Held a lamb~~
26. Gone skinny dipping
~~27. Run a marathon~~
~~28. Ridden in a gondola in Venice~~
29. Seen a total eclipse
30. Watched a sunrise or sunset
31. Hit a home run
32. Been on a cruise
33. Seen Niagara Falls in person
~~34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors~~
35. Seen an Amish community
~~36. Taught yourself a new language~~
37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied
~~38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person~~
39. Gone rock climbing
~~40. Seen Michelangelo’s David~~
41. Sung karaoke
42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt
43. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant
~~44. Visited Africa~~
45. Walked on a beach by moonlight
~~46. Been transported in an ambulance~~
~~47. Had your portrait painted~~
~~48. Gone deep sea fishing~~
~~49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person~~
~~50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris~~
51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling
52. Kissed in the rain
53. Played in the mud
~~54. Gone to a drive-in theater~~
55. Been in a movie
~~56. Visited the Great Wall of China~~
57. Started a business
58. Taken a martial arts class
~~59. Visited Russia~~
60. Served at a soup kitchen
~~61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies~~
~~62. Gone whale watching~~
~~63. Got flowers for no reason~~
64. Donated blood, platelets or plasma
~~65. Gone sky diving~~
66. Visited a Nazi concentration camp
~~67. Bounced a check~~
~~68. Flown in a helicopter~~
69. Saved a favorite childhood toy
70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial
~~71. Eaten Caviar~~
~~72. Pieced a quilt~~
73. Stood in Times Square
~~74. Toured the Everglades~~
~~75. Been fired from a job~~
76. Seen the Changing of the Guards in London
77. Broken a bone
78. Been on a speeding motorcycle
~~79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person~~
~~80. Published a book~~
~~81. Visited the Vatican~~
~~82. Bought a brand new car~~
~~83. Walked in Jerusalem~~
~~84. Had your picture in the newspaper~~
~~85. Read the entire Bible~~
~~86. Visited the White House~~
~~87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating~~
88. Had chickenpox
~~89. Saved someone’s life~~
~~90. Sat on a jury~~
91. Met someone famous
~~92. Joined a book club~~
93. Lost a loved one
~~94. Had a baby~~
95. Seen the Alamo in person
~~96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake~~
~~97. Been involved in a law suit~~
98. Owned a cell phone
99. Been stung by a bee

Nanananana

2008-11-06T10:22:00.010-05:00

Grant Park, schmant park, the real magic was going down at the Cheyenne Saloon in downtown Orlando Tuesday night.

The general mood exhibited by the song below is pretty much what I would say I felt after the election results were finalized. Don't read too much into the lyrics, though¹.

¹Then again c'mon, whatever the new regime needs to do to inject just a little more love into the current love/hate global imbalance...I won't judge. I mean, so long as they don't let the gays marry, because we all know that would cause the collapse of civilization as we know it.

Why American Man Love To Mangle Foreign Lady

2008-10-15T10:45:00.004-04:00

Any of us who have spent time browsing SiteMeter's "Recent Visitors by Referrals" know that there are people out there searching online for some weird-ass stuff, who then sometimes land on your comparatively less weird blog hoping to find whatever it is they are looking for.

But then sometimes it's the other way. It's you doing the searching, but for something normal, and you land in the middle of someone else's weird-ass stuff.

I asked myself yesterday, [out loud, per usual, and with Dumb Southerner accent] "Say, what's the divorce rate of United States presidents versus the average of the general populace?" (Combining Dumb Southerner voice with grade-12 words is fun by the oodle.)

So Google I did, and answer I found, but not without stumbling upon something wonderful along the way. Something truly wonderful. Like, remind-you-why-the-internet-is-still-important-on-a-global-level wonderful.

Experience it as I experienced it, by landing, out of context, right on page two of an ongoing discussion...

But not before you play this:
Boomp3.com
Ok, now:
http://www.city-data.com/forum/relationships/250309-why-does-united-states-have-such-2.html

It's a Sad Day for Salads Everywhere

2008-09-27T21:34:00.003-04:00

My first introduction to Paul Newman was at a fairly young age. We didn't have a television, thank all that is logical and good, and The Sting was one of the few non-"kids" movies our family had that my brother and I were allowed to watch. Although sans television, we did own a VHS player and video monitor. I later figured out how to get the VHS player to pull in public television stations, much to the delight of 3/4 of my family. Delighted mother subsequently de-delighted bright-eyed and cartoon-deficient boys by instituting and enforcing a 2-hour-per-week television limit. Or maybe it was an hour per day? Regardless, the cap also came with policing of content, so our shows were less Transformers and G.I.Joe and more 3-2-1 Contact. Mathnet anyone?! No? K. [But it was awwwww-some!]

I'm not sure why The Sting made the ok list. I definitely remember being very aware of the lady-dancers with their [what-I-know-today-to-be] pasties. As far as I was concerned, them ladies was nekkid!

It was many years later that I got around to Cool Hand Luke and Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. I was never able to connect with James Dean's whiny, pre-emo "Rebel Without a Cause" the way I could with Newman's charismatic and persistent underdog "Cool Hand Luke". And who here already knew that the talky part in the Guns N' Roses song "Civil War" is taken from CHL? As for Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, well forget it: it's Newman and Redford and guns! With class!

I wasn't the president of his fan club. He wasn't my friend on Myspace. I haven't "like seen all of his movies!" But somehow along the way I got the idea that he might have been a decent guy. Once asked by Playboy magazine if he was ever tempted to stray from his wife, Newman replied, "I have steak at home, why go out for hamburger?" Sweet.

So yeah, sometime yesterday Paul Newman died. And in case nobody heard, a Chinese astronaut today became the first in his country's history to complete a space walk. I'm just glad at least one of these stories beat out the mind-numbing election drudge-erage, if only for a minute.

My FFFILFs

2008-08-31T22:42:00.003-04:00

I was recently challenged by this girl I know to list my ones.

Apparently I only get five, so my condolences to all of the runners-up who didn't make the cut. You are all still wonderful, beautiful people. Don't forget that. Also remember that the list can evolve, such as when I actually sleep with any of those on it. Obviously, that would open up a spot.

Carla Bruni, Singer, First Lady of France
Penelope Cruz
Leryn Franco, Paraguayan Olympic javelin thrower
Scarlett Johanssen
Natalie Portman

2008-08-26T21:14:00.002-04:00

A move to a new place generally involves many stressful decisions. Where will I live? Where will I work? Eat? Play? What color should my Do-Rag be so as to fit in with the locals?¹ Eventually, if the move is of the interstate sort, you may find yourself faced with another decision: Which state license plate should I choose? Consider the following:

Officer: Know why I pulled you over?
Hypothetical Myself: Uh, because my car is leaking awesome?
Officer: Nope, guess again.
H.M.: Ok, bec—
Officer: What do you call this thing, anyway?
H.M.: Well, it's a Suba—
Officer: 'cause it looks like a Jap car.
H.M.: As a matter of fact, it—
Officer: I pulled you over because you are driving with expired tags. From another state.
H.M.: Ohhhhhh, rigghhtttt, yeah I—
Officer: So you were aware you were driving with expired tags?
H.M.: Well yeah, I mean, I've been meaning to get that plate switched over, but it's kind of a big decision, you know? There are like hundreds of options, and I really want to be sure I pick the right one. Of course I can throw out all the sports-related plates because ha-ha, come ON, I almost entirely missed the male gene for sports-givingashitabout, but that still leaves lots left to choose. So if I at least narrow it down to animals, which are great, and then narrow further to those animals which are endangered, I still have some serious soul-searching to do to pick just one! I feel like they all need my help: panther, whale, dolphin, manatee, sea turtle—and then there's that plate that comprehensively supports the whole of "Our Seas". Will my choosing to support and save one of these noble creatures essentially be a conscious decision to kill off the others?!
Officer: Mr Mucker, because this is another one of your made-up fantasy conversations, I'm going to let you go. No ticket today, but please—for me—for the great state of Florida—for all Americans everywhere—choose wisely. Now godspeed with you. Godspeed!
H.M.: zoom!

Well I chose, alright.

My great regret is that my request for the letters "MAN ITY" was met with bitter disappointment when the woman at the tag and title office told me someone else had already taken that. She was unable to tell me if they had put those letters specifically on the manatee plate. For all I know it could just be someone with the last name of Manity. I imagine his name could be Hugh. Oh, the Hugh Manity!

¹Through trial and error, I have determined to go with "invisible" as my Do-Rag color.

Dear The Guy At the Party the Other Night

2008-07-30T08:47:00.005-04:00

Dear The Guy At the Party the Other Night,

Remember that story I told about the priest in South America who became voluntarily attached to numerous clusters of helium balloons during a celebration and then took off and floated up-and-away but then was never heard from again?

And hey, remember that look you threw my way? That look of "Oh you're that guy at the party: Fantastical Storyteller Dude with his made-up tales of wonder and intrigue carefully crafted to impress lad and lady alike."

You rolled your eyes. You didn't believe me. You called my account poppycock, though not with so classy a word. You took advantage of my storytelling handicap where when I have only remembered maybe 75% of the facts from the original story, I sputter and explain [read: concede] that "Well, I don't remember the whole of what transpired..." and basically hand back more than the difference in my story's credibility, but never attempt salvation by filling in the holes with make-believe.

Well Guy, I don't remember your name, or any other details about you, but if I did, I would find you and tell you to eat it:

Laissez-faire Longevity

2008-07-28T23:09:00.003-04:00

You know how when you're driving your automobile and you notice a police car in your rearview mirror cruising behind you, your body hot-flashes as you become hyperaware of your every motoring action? You instinctively look at your speedometer, and/or maybe brake too suddenly, regardless of your speed, then immediately hate yourself for broadcasting that you instinctively betted against yourself as a law-abider. Then, if you don't know the posted speed limit, and usually even if you do, you desperately scan your periphery for a sign. Once you have ascertained the posted legal limit the hard part begins: maintaining a speed that is neither exactly at or below the limit so as to seem suspicious, yet also not 5-10 mph over the limit so as to seem "pull-me-over-immediately-for-I-have-$105-burning-a-hole-in-my-pocket-or-$65-if-I-pay-for-my-infraction-within-7-days-thank-you-and-good-day-to-you-sir".

A similar scenario occurs when you find yourself suddenly having caught up to a patrolman. This situation is of a more polarized risk factor however, as you must choose between being 100% safe by just staying behind him at his soul-bruisingly perfect speed-limit-speed, or gambling on his not being a giant douche, and being "cool" with you respectfully overtaking him at a safe speed, because having to reset your cruise control really chaps your ass and hurts your trip-time averages.

I'm going somewhere with this, but not well. [Spoiler: things end up kind of sad, but really only if you click a link.]

Buried somewhere above was intended to be an analogy for my personal approach to laissez-faire longevity. (It's the part about maintaining the perfect speed, but minus the part with the guilt. Turns out, it was a terrible analogy, but you read it. Ha.) I am aware of "healthy" and "unhealthy", but I really don't work too hard towards either—I just happily cruise between them. Meanwhile, I have innate habits of moderation when it comes to eating, and it seems to be working out for me. For the most part, eating bores and annoys me, and when I feel the slightest bit full, I quit. (Side note: Based on my own studies, said fullness is biologically impossible when the meal is Cheetos)

I figure this works out, because apparently underfed animals live longer. I am interested in living as long as possible—preferably forever—but terrified of my own imminent mortality, and eventually aging to physical or mental irrelevancy. Based of what little I know, I don't imagine ENFPs do well as really old people.

I've got genes and an optimistic family medical history on my side, and should still have my hair through my 90s, but whether or not my body and mind are sound, all I can hope for is that I've got someone in my life like this man's son:

Days With My Father <-- not to be missed

Stupid Pizza Instructions

2008-07-21T21:41:00.004-04:00

Stupid Pizza Instructions, originally uploaded by tichaelmucker.

As if it weren't hard enough to be a guy who sees eating as a hassle and cooking as a chore, just trying to keep himself fed in this crazy, food-obsessed world . . .

As the caption states, I didn't notice a problem until I had already completed steps one and two. After setting the preheat, I figured I'd read ahead. It was at that brow-furrowing moment when I knew step three just couldn't be right. Other than being completely impossible, it was SUPER-DANGEROUS.

For the curious, I was dealing with a Publix brand Premium Self-Rising Crust Pizza, of the Four Cheese variety. For the snooty, who think that sounds boring and unimaginative, know that I personally added pineapple and black-olives-with-jalapeños as my toppings du jour. Yeah, what up, biotch?!

My One Birthday Wish

2008-07-13T09:18:00.006-04:00

For most of my life I've had a hard time telling people what I "wanted" for birthdays, Christmases, graduations, etc. Early on, it was as simple as handing my brother and I the enormous JCPenney [or Sears] catalog and a pen, and placing us on the couch. Circles would be drawn and initialed, arguments over who wanted the same items more would be resolved, and hierarchies would be employed, e.g., "REALLY want". Most of our time was spent in the toy section, but our drive to provide our parents with a solid list of options led us into other areas as well. We hit sporting goods and electronics but never apparel.

As I have collected years, I have learned more about myself, my wants, and my desires. I grow increasingly anti-materialistic. Circles in a catalog just won't cut it anymore. I often don't have a single answer for what I "want".

Except for today—today I know what I want for my birthday.

I want to be Hugh Jackman in the movie Australia.

Matt Singer and His Inspirational American Idol Song-Story

2008-05-31T14:28:00.001-04:00

A story all of us who have been denied by a reality show can relate to.

For me, it was CBS's Survivor, seasons one AND two. Seriously, I have the audition footage to prove it.

Folk-Rock Walk of Shame

2008-05-26T21:47:00.005-04:00

Tonight I did something I haven't done in the six months since I moved to Florida. I walked to the convenience store less than a half-mile from my front door, just to get a drink. My car is out with a girl, and my motorcycle is in the shop. My personal shame is that my stroll was such a conscious, ironic decision. I've camped farther from a water source than the Shell station is from my bedside. I've woken up at dawn and hiked miles and miles with 50 pounds on my back until it was too dark to continue.

Now a flip-flop-walk best measured in yards is unusual enough to me to bring feelings of nostalgia and guilt.

I used to walk more.

I was already wired into my iPod, so it came along. I couldn't have picked better than Phosphorescent, to which the ambient sound of chirping crickets seeping through my headphones became a perfect complement. When not in undeveloped nature, I prefer to provide my own soundtrack to my environment. In the right conditions, there can occur a chemical-free high which I can only compare to a sort of out-of-body experience. It is deliciously indulgent, as while I become completely consumed by the music, I allow myself the fantasy that the music is not in my head alone, but being heard by the entire world around me, or at least the part I can see.

I am become movie protagonist, rife with mystery and intrigue! For once, I ascribe myself the allure of the character who is compelling because he is alone . . . on screen. But we are there. We are watching. We understand him.

My brief walk took me there, and brought me back. Back to this hammock, strung between two palm trees, under a clear sky with more stars than you'd think. Different crickets now augment the same music, as Phosphorescent's "South (of America)" says it best:

it never gets cold way down here
i can live off of watermelons and beer
and i will never go hungry and i will never go home
and never call out to my lover, 'lover, leave me alone'
and never harden my heart like some fruit in the snow
but will walk, babe, (i know this) unnoticed, unknown

Speaking of, my car and its driver are returned, and it's bedtime.

When Hibernation Strikes

2008-05-14T21:15:00.002-04:00

You've seen a baby panda sneeze.

You watched otters holding hands.

You probably don't want to miss...

It Really Wasn't Easy . . . Being Green

2008-05-12T21:07:00.008-04:00

Worst Job In The World

2008-05-11T17:58:00.001-04:00

post-it-undies-worst, originally uploaded by Marc Johns.

At least when poor Briefs has provided its last support (you needed it) and comfort (you deserved it), it can go on to that great big crotch in the sky.

Mmm, big sky crotch.

But please, like Diaper doesn't have it worse. Buck up, Tighties!

Who Am I, and What Did I Do With the REAL tichaelmucker?

2008-04-26T23:27:00.002-04:00

What's the opposite of "ensues"? Because that's what hilarity does here:

This video is sobering, but denial can be delicious. Just today I enjoyed fish, cow, eggs and milk. At least eggs can be bought from presumably better-treated "free-range" chickens, and milk from grass-fed, pasture-kept cows. I love both, but could never win an argument that humans really need to be eating either. As for eating the animals themselves, although humane methods could be employed to raise and slaughter animals, they would never be cost-effective for the masses. Producing animals for food with actual kindness and respect would ultimately make the products too expensive for all but the wealthy [and couples on first dates] to enjoy.

I was raised vegetarian, and that was in the middle of Texas steer country. I think if it was possible there, I could probably handle returning to the lifestyle now that I live in a largish American city. I'll give it a shot.

It's easy to complain that vegetarian eating is "too expensive". Sure, but I wonder if it's more that eating meat should often seem, really, really, really, ridiculously, TOO CHEAP.

Dress Yourself In Bleeding Madras

2008-04-10T15:08:00.003-04:00

It was once surmised [optimistically] to me that I might be a vampire. The girl had her reasons.

Then this other time, a friend asked if I had heard the band "Vampire Weekend". I had not, and the few seconds I gave them didn't hook me, so I shrugged off his invitation to go see them live.

Some time passed.

Now I owe them both apologies.

Turns out, Vampire Weekend will easily end up being one of my favorite albums of the year. Seems they are named ironically, because it's actually some really bright, happy music.

Here is an unofficial video of "M79", with video by "Charlina," who I can only imagine is a girl whose father really, really wanted a boy:

Happy St Pat's from Tichael O'McMucker!

2008-03-17T12:31:00.002-04:00

2008-02-27T09:53:00.004-05:00

According to "Stuff White People Like" (simultaneous head nod and hand-pistol-shoot action of props-giving to my friend electromatic) one stuff white people like is "saving the earth without having to do that much."

I know, right?

See, I'm white. I'm so white that I suddenly started seeing a credit on my electrical bill with an explanatory footnote reading, "One of our servicemen noticed you mowing your lawn with your shirt off and experienced temporary retinal failure. We can only assume that you are using your own skin as an environmentally-friendly renewable lighting resource in your home. We have awarded you the appropriate energy credit on your statement."

Putting aside the argument that culturally, white people probably have a higher tendency towards smug, pious attitudes in general, [combined with a lower likelihood of having done extensive manual labor AS THEIR JOB] I can't deny the fact that last night I did in fact, buy the following product and feel good about myself pretty much instantly for doing so.

Wild Animal Crunch: genius. I went with the meerkat one, but it was a tough choice. I haven't eaten it yet, but I figure if Animal Planet put their logo on the box, it probably isn't real meerkat I'll be crunching on, which is good.

So the ultimate point is that I purchased this cereal because I thought it would help meerkats, and wild animals in general. I did not read the back or sides of the box. I saw "NEW!" and "Wild Animal" and of course the awesome photo of meerkats doing what they do, which is almost exclusively stand up and watch for something potentially dangerous and/or scary to happen so they can hide in their holes.

It seemed so easy to help! Eat cereal—which I love, and save animals—which I also love!

Well I was kind of tricked. A portion of the proceeds does NOT go to a meerkat preservation fund. By buying a box I am NOT sponsoring a poor, orphaned meerkat. What I get are animal factoids and a little blurb about joining something called ROAR: Reach Out. Act. Respond. Clever.

"Be a voice for animals! Reach Out. Act. Respond. There's so much you can do—adopt or foster a pet, volunteer at your local shelter, or create a backyard habitat. Join ROAR now at www.AnimalPlanet.com/roar and make a promise to help animals."

That sounds hard. Can't I just eat the cereal?

Here Goes My New Plan:

2008-02-25T12:52:00.004-05:00

Become highly-trained-super-covert-operative known exclusively as "Death's Whisper"¹.
Infiltrate new biodiversity "doomsday vault" recently carved into the permafrost of a remote Arctic mountain.
Destroy every single seed (or bulb?) of onion and onion relatives (e.g. scallion, chive, leek, shallot).
Initiate global catastrophe of some sort causing, at the very least, total global agricultural failure.
Wait it out.
Enjoy new and exciting post-apocalyptic onion-free world!

This is to ensure we don't have another situation like we did yesterday at Tijuana Flats.

'nough said.

¹The name "Death's Whisper" should always be uttered [fittingly] approximately one decibel above silence and should NEVER be shortened to "D.W." or "DeWhisp". As a rule of thumb, it will generally be best to never utter it at all.

A Brief Resolution for the Year 2054

2008-01-01T18:18:00.000-05:00

In 2054, when I am 75, I'd like to be this man:

Man, 75, Hurt While Riding Pet Buffalo

Because I mean, you're 75, retired, bored, you just happen to own a couple of buffalo...why shouldn't you give it a shot?

2007-11-30T10:13:00.000-05:00

I've decided to do it, you guys. I'm doing NaBloPoMo! Starting today. "Better late than never," my grandfather used to say, as he sucked on a delicious Werther's Original candy treat. He would say other smart things, too, but most of the time I was just pretending to listen until he would offer me a Werther's Original, which he never did.

Why so late? Well, now that I'm an unemployed highwayman, it's time I apply myself and do something productive with all this time-on-hands I find myself with.

Speaking of, I'm still in Washington D.C.

This city is just like L.A. except the stars are different:

Tourist 1: Dude.
Tourist 2: What?
Tourist 1: Okay, be cool, do NOT look, but I am almost POSITIVE that Associate Justice of the Supreme Court Ruth Bader Ginsberg is right over there.
Tourist 2: [totally looking] Serious?!
Tourist 1: DUDE! She saw you!
Tourist 2: Big deal, so what, let's go get a picture with her!
Tourist 1: No. Way.
Tourist 2: Hey, have it your way, I'm going to talk to her.
Tourist 1: What the hell are you going to say? [then in a mocking voice] Hey, you were FANTASTIC in Stenberg v. Carhart, 2000!
Tourist 2: Well she WAS!
Tourist 1: Whatever, man, you're going to look like a jackass.
Tourist 2: You're a jackass. Later.
Tourist 1: Fine, I'm in. Geeze.

Yesterday I saw many things:

1. The Nigersaurus skeleton
2. Photography exhibition at the Corcoran by Annie Leibovitz, that lady who photographed Queen Elizabeth and Demi Moore naked and pregnant and et, et, al. Unbelievable stuff. I kind of snuck in somehow. It's all about confidence, kids. And looking security guards in the eye.
3. Some racism.
4. Soulsavers concert at the Black Cat.

There was more, but I'm wasting time on today's seeings by memoiring yesterday's, so I'm ending the list.

I'm very excited about this NaBloPoMo. Expect the rest of November's postings to be of about this length and as laden with content.

Great to be in the club!

I'm Moving from America's Mitten...

2007-11-27T13:13:00.001-05:00

...to America's schlong:

And I'm taking kind of the long way:

That's me in the blue car. This proposed route, at least what's left of it, is completely flexible. If anybody should be worried though, it's Atlanta. And Asheville. We'll just have to see, you guys. It's all my fault for not being good at maps. Or planning.

Here's the soundtrack for the trip:

tt for n.

Congratulations to ALL the Winners...

2007-11-14T07:40:00.000-05:00

...whoever they are.

Patrick wins! For hair, at least.

In pre-defense of this post, I am currently on a moderate cocktail of medications to alleviate my flu-"like" symptoms.

Mmmm, yeah, feelin' pretty good.

How About a Nice Vocab Pilaf?

2007-11-06T16:54:00.000-05:00

Show off, impress your friends, feed a refugee!

Like Gap's (PRODUCT)RED, where you pay extra for exclusive, trendy duds to somehow end up fixing AIDS, here is another great way to help alleviate a seemingly insurmountable major world problem doing something you already do!

That's right, literate do-gooders, simply by relaxing with a hot cup of fair trade java and single-clicking your mouse through a fun and challenging quiz, you can [sort of] change the world!

It really is fun and addictive. Oh, and the sarcasm you think see splashed all over the place here is really more a delightful sorbet of irony and guilt, because I think both things are fantastic ideas, and absolutely culturally relevant, necessary, and niche-filling. Also, I think I may have said in the past how much I ~~want~~ need the (PRODUCT)RED motorcycle jacket they made.

I only got to Level 37. Y'all can definitely beat that.

So fill your mind and fill a bowl at http://www.freerice.com

Layer Tennis + Dooce, A Match Made in Pun Heaven?

2007-11-02T07:46:00.000-04:00

Chances are, you've heard of either Layer Tennis or Dooce. Which one might say a lot about you as a person. I, for example, am only dimly aware that this "Dooce" is some sort of online personality adored by many. Or at least one. You know who you are.

I'm a Layer Tennis guy. It may be the first sport ever invented by a person that I'm actually interested in following from start to finish, including pre-game and post-game commentary, and then discussing how I might have done things differently. Perhaps I finally have the insight into the mind of the professional sports fan I’ve been lacking all these years. I just hadn’t found the right sport yet!

Every match of Layer Tennis involves two celebrated graphic designer contestants, and a somehow noteworthy commentator.

This week’s designer-contestants are two people I’ve never actually heard of, but are almost certainly at least 312% more creative than I am.

And this week’s commentator: Heather Armstrong, whoever that is.

The action, starting live at 2pm Central time, may be found at:
http://www.layertennis.com

Sukkot, Lame John Silver's

2007-10-01T17:03:00.000-04:00

I realize I don't have to remind any of you that this past Friday marked the first day of Sukkot. I don't actually know anything about Sukkot, but that's what makes it so special. I staunchly refuse to research the holiday due to an intuitive sense that whatever it truly commemorates or honors will be nothing more than a disappointment to ol' idealist me. You'll find no clickable interweb hyperlinks to wikipedia pages in THIS post! As it is, Sukkot seems to remain largely uncapitalized upon by the greeting card and decorative cake industries, as I recently concluded while planning my Sukkot kickoff party. I don't know how your own celebrations have been going, but I became so disenchanted by society's lackluster support for the occasion that I bitterly abandoned all of my Sukkot party plans. Maybe next year.

In other alternative holiday news, against my own and this guy's better judgement, I also last week deliberately visited Long John Silver's for lunch on National Talk Like a Pirate Day. Why that chain has not embraced this annual event for marketing purposes, however not-red-letter it may be, is absolutely beyond me. It's certainly not because of some ironic corporate-level fear of perceived political incorrectness due to modern-day pirate life and culture (The "pirates" of today are super-lame). This large novelty wearable paper hat tells me that much:

"I Sailed with Long John Silver's!" it says. And if you can't tell, the crossed bones are in fact a knife and fork. You need neither of these at Long John Silver's.

There's just no good reason in my mind that on this one day, I should not be able to go into any Long John Silver's restaurant, deliver my heartiest "Yaaarrrrr!" and be graciously presented with a free hush puppie, or at the very least a handful of those delicious fried crumbly bits.

But I can't, and now I need a new alternative holiday to look forward to.

Faulty TPS Reports Are Nothing

2007-09-26T21:25:00.000-04:00

Check out these little guys:

Cute, right?

Wrong. They are nasty little rule-breakers.

The following was actually and very seriously distributed at my place of employ. Let's just say that to some of us NBC's hit TV series The Office is just slightly less funny to some of us. K, lookit:

(click for enlargificationizing)

Now It's Your Tern

2007-08-30T20:25:00.000-04:00

Oh, little tern. You couldn't have known it of course, as you, with all the might you could muster, despairingly decreed your barren belly condition, but you were helping me. Have helped me. In a week among weeks [of a certain soul-trying nature], you were exactly what I needed. Numerous times now I have looked upon your image, and have seen myself.

But I need you no longer. I give you to the world. This is not by the presumption that I alone knew of you but rather by the authority vested in me by me, after unquestionably being more deeply affected by your plight as compared to my own than any other person possibly could have, that I called dibs [to myself], and thusly claimed pseudownership.

I may never know your eventual fate, but I am going to call you Thomas, and you will forever be to me a present tense tern. Ahead of you is a rich and exciting life of nest-making on the beach, diving out of the sky and into the water for tasty fish, and migrating for the winter months to such places as, well, Florida. You shall be a true tern of events, predetermined and delightfully routine.

Speaking of Hope

2007-07-19T20:05:00.000-04:00

Really very funny:

Chapter 9, in which Hope gets emotionally damaged at a family wedding.

Are you Twittering what I'm Twittering?

2007-07-11T17:08:00.000-04:00

Yes, my job is the internet and yes, I know what "Web 2.0" really means, but I was just not getting behind the movement. Reason number one, at 42% [in the straw poll I took from myself in secret], was that by periodically texting the world my goings-on, I would only accomplish actively admitting to myself how lame my average days really ARE. And on the flipside, if I'm engaged in something truly spectacular, am I really going to stop to document it?

Example:

"Okay, Petey [my pet miniature racehorse] and I just did the tequila shots, and our parachutes are secured. I'm about to ride him off Lookout Point!"

Nah, I'd just friggin' jam the shot and session the man/horse tandem BASE jump straightaway, huzzah!

Other reasons were given but I don't remember them. They were uncompelling.

The point is that I have found a use of Twitter that is compelling. It's a delightful little mashup calling itself twittervision.

It's like watching sitcoms on television, but each show is only five seconds long! Some are funnier than others, and some don't make any sense at all, as if they weren't even in English or something, but at five seconds each, it's worth the wait to get to the good stuff. I have seen some I wish I could TiVo. I really want to know what happens to "hyku" because as he/she just said, it's "not looking good for me making it to philly tonight". What will happen to you hyku?!

Go see what's on twittervision.

Need Is for Girls

2007-06-05T16:32:00.000-04:00

This is just that silly "[yournamehere] needs" Google game that folks have been indulging in, EXCEPT...

I'm a boy, so I changed up the damn rules, in accordance with Universal Gender Stereotype Article X, Section 5, Subsection (5)(a).

Michael doesnt need my help any more
Michael doesn’t need my pity, doesn’t need anyone to feel sorry for him, and probably doesn’t feel sorry for himself
Michael doesn't need to win a 500 to prove anything
Michael doesn’t need to immediately sign up for a COBRA
Michael doesn't need the paycheck
Michael doesn't NEED backup
Michael doesn't need to write it necessarily
Michael doesn't need to lose weight!

That's so true about the backup.

10 Reasons I Shouldn't Argue My Accident-Prone Label

2007-05-10T23:59:00.000-04:00

As infant, launched self off of examination table during doctor visit, landing head-first into a trash can.
At preschool, fell backwards out of swing during an extreme swinging session, landing head-first on ground. Lots of blood, stitches administered.
At preschool, lost balance during successful attempt to spin myself to dizziness, striking head against metal box on wall. Lots of blood, stitches administered.
In grade school, was impaled in the hand by sharp pencil thrown to (at?) me.†
Slipped on long flight of wooden stairs, sliding on back all the way down striking head on each stair edge on the way. Lots of blood, but no stitches! (I probably needed them but we were on our way to a school play which I was in and damn it if I was going to be "that kid", right Mom? Nah, it's cool.)†
During middle school P.E. class, rendered unconscious and, for a short time, airborne by a kid we called “Moose” when he and I collided with each other at full running speed. He won.
Attempting bunny hop onto sidewalk curb ended catastrophically when front wheel detached from forks. (This is difficult to explain, but basically, I had a front wheel on the bike before I jumped, but it was not really there when I came back down. YOU try to stick that landing sometime.)
Shattered plate glass window with my hands, the largest broken piece of which landed squarely on my nose. I had banged on the window to get the attention of people inside. I had no idea it was already cracked. Lots of blood, stitches administered.†
In full ice hockey regalia, broke tibia AND fibia walking from the indoor changing area to the outdoor rink..†
In what was left of full pirate regalia, broke foot on poor landing from a large leap from a small concrete step.†

I had to leave some good stuff out, but I only get ten. I wasn't even considering motor vehicle-related mishaps. Incidentally, I have been unconscious 9 times that I can remember, only three of which were for planned medical procedures.

It has been 11 days since my last accident.

† denotes injuries for which visible proof remains

Chips Annoy!

2007-04-13T12:28:00.000-04:00

There is a commercial on public television right now hawking delicious Chunky Chips Ahoy!.¹

I hate this commercial.

Since a young age, I've been a sucker for anthropomorphism. Those aren't just cookies piled in a bowl on a table. They are cookies with eyes and arms and mouths and voices having the time of their lives!! I don't look at the cookies and wish I could eat them any more than I see a cow in a field munching on grass and think, "Hey cow, come here so I can AT THIS VERY MOMENT SLAUGHTER YOU AND CONSUME YOUR DELICIOUS MEAT!"

I just don't understand why the cookies have to go out like that. And why one at a time? That's just cruel. They don't even realize what's going on. Then the last one, he's probably like, "My buddies! I did have friends here in the sportster with me, didn't I? Did I drive off and leave them somewhere? DID THEY FALL OUT?! OMG, I'M RESPONSIB—" And then yoink!,² he's gone, too, leaving an unpiloted convertible careening along a cliffside highway, which is just totally unsafe. What if at that moment, a classic VW Beetle full of sexy Soft Batch honeys was headed the other direction? Suddenly the tragedy becomes all the more horrendous!

I want to know more about that disembodied hand. As far as I'm concerned it's some gigantic, lazy, piece-of-shit loser doing nothing with his own life but sitting around stuffing his giant maw with smaller, weaker creatures who are at least getting out there and living, unlike lame-o him. It does occur to me to think of the giant hand as that of God Himself, but that just takes things in a direction I don't want to go. ('cause duh, they are obviously living for themselves and not for others, am-I-right?)

Granted, based on the song they are jamming to it could be interpreted that the cookies know they are cookies and are accepting of their role as scrumptious consumable foodstuffs. Their singular role is to be eaten, and the fact that they are out cruising obviously means that up to that point nobody has yet "wanted them", hence the symbolic self-deprecating song. Does nobody in fact want them? Are their destinies to be unrealized?! They don't exactly look depressed, though, so I reject this argument. On the other hand, maybe they are just in denial, like a group of single fifty-somethings at the dance club having a "great time". Nahhhhh.

So I realize the intention of this commercial is to make me want to buy/eat some of these cookies, but it just makes me feel sad and guilty instead. All I know is, I'd rather be any one of the cruising cookies than Mr Gigantoglutton chowing down on them. No, wait—I only want to be one of the first three, who go out almost instantly, unlike the driver, who has that moment of utter confusion and shock first, which looks wrenching.

Incidentally, lately I've been seeing a different version where it's just the one cookie driving around before he is snatched up. I'd really like to know why the two versions exist. Perhaps it's simply a matter of commercial length; I haven't tested. Or maybe some uppity-up at Nabisco found their conscience.

¹ I'm not sure what to do when the sentence ends with a word that brings along it's own punctuation, but it conveys the wrong emotion. I needed a period at the end of everything, so I just made it happen. Nobody ever has a problem with "?!" right?)

² Did it again.

10 Things I Hate 'bout Ahchoo

2007-04-10T07:01:00.000-04:00

Sometimes you end up with a handful of snot.
Sometimes animals come up and sneeze in your face. This happens too frequently to be accidental.
Getting "Godblessed" every single time by people who aren't just trying to break the ice. [Especially when it was just a cough!] Sometimes I like to respond with mock rage and a wild look in my eyes, screaming back at them, "WHOSE GOD?! YOUR GOD?!!!" and point with a shaking, accusatory index finger. Then I return to what I was doing.
Autosomal dominant Compelling Helio-Ophthalmic Outburst syndrome (ACHOO). 17-25% of us have this condition. I am one of them. And so, are you?
I never seem to get "that fourth sneeze". Lame.
Germs, gross.
Sometimes sneezes happen at terrible times, like when you are hiding from a monster or trying to stealthily stalk another person.
Sometimes sneezes start and ah—ah—ah—ugh, don't finish.
Sometimes #8 is because some jackass friend messed up your impending sneeze just to be mean.
Sometimes someone sneezes and it scares the bejesus out of you:

Thanks for the clip, Uncle Wag

Hey, creative writer-types.

2007-04-09T09:08:00.000-04:00

Genius self-promotion. Low-tech is so hot right now.

http://noonebelongsheremorethanyou.com/

Pure Co-ed Blog-reading Bliss

2007-04-03T13:52:00.000-04:00

No introduction is really necessary here. It's kind of all there in the URL.

This one's great for girls and boys. Amazing.

http://hotchickswithdouchebags.com/

Vocation Vacation Days the Rest of Them

2007-04-03T13:19:00.000-04:00

There is only one way to come back from vacation: completely and utterly exhausted to the point of total dysfunction. If you are one of those people who are all, “Ahhhh, I feel SO rested-up and ready to really GET BACK TO IT!” then you’re doing it wrong. Ok, fine, there’s a whole argument for what your job is. My job is extremely sedentary, routine and ugh, predictable. There is very little in life I appreciate those qualities in, and that includes girlfriends, airplane travel and bowel movements. Point being, whilst on vacation, it’s chaos I’m shooting for. This is easier the aloner I am, but no matter how many folks are involved, there’s always room for a little vacational anarchy.

Usually I’m quite capable on my own of total vacation maximization. Sometimes I get help. Cheers, Delta. Yes, I’m in Cincinnati still trying to get to work in South Bend where I should have been an hour ago, but gee whiz that free hotel room was nice! I’m unclear as to how I deserved it, but when a nice lady in uniform hands you hotel and food vouchers AND a t-shirt, you are best off just nodding gravely and making a grand show of how nonchalant and strong you are to get through this calamitous mix-up. “OH, it’s really no trouble at all, seriously, these things happen. And can I just say I LOVE that brooch?!” So yeah, don’t forget to tack that all on to the $400 travel vouchers I earned at the beginning of the trip. I think it’s the hat. (Oh, and I spent my “food” vouchers on coffee, Naked® Superfood drinks, a bottle of green tea and multi-colored Swedish fish, to get me right up to the $14. )

Sidenote:

I’d like to go back in time to find out if people in “the olden days” bitched to their sea captain (or stagecoach driver?) that with their ship due to arrive a full two weeks late [due to an unforseen scurvy outbreak amongst the crew], they were totally going to miss their connecting voyage around Cape Horn and how were they ever going to make it to the Americas to start their lives of religious freedom and expression anew now?! “I DEMAND AN UPGRADE TO CAPTAIN’S QUARTERS!!!”

I just think folks might have forgotten to appreciate how ridiculous modern travel really is. Seriously, shut the hell up and deal with it! Remember when just arriving at your destination alive or not-a-slave was all anybody asked for?

**** time to board plane be back later ****

I didn't lie, but it's now a full-on 28 hours later and I'm "home". Let me see if I can even remember the rest of the trip:

Hmm, actually I'm having trouble. There's no way I can still do a day-by-day play-by-play with MY memory. I know I was on top of the Empire State Building, and I know I went to the Metropolitan Museum of Art and saw "Washington Crossing the Delaware". I also remember spending a considerable amount of money on food and drink. I went to the Fox News Channel studios with my brother because a friend of his works there. We got a personal tour and even got to watch as an ACTUAL "Fox News Alert" happened and was activated by a real person! If you're curious the alert was for the fire near the Hollywood sign. After that we went into Bill O' Reilly's studio and then the set for some new show where this happened:

Later in the weekend I was with my friend walking very late to find some food. There was some commotion in front of a club and the next thing that was happening was a large fella was punching a guy and then the guy's girlfriend in the face. I think she got the worst of it before someone broke it up. That was intense, but the really interesting part was overhearing another Latina saying, "That bitch deserved it, she definitely slapped him first..." and then probably something about coming correct. WHAT?! This guy was the size of the girl and her boyfriend put together and he was pummelling her!! Call me a conservative Midwesterner, but that's really just not ok. Then the assailant ran away, which was a smart move for him, and the girl went to inspect the damage in a taxicab sideview mirror. She had blood all over her face. Also, I'm gonna guess she's single by now. So who's seen The Way of the Gun?

I flew out of JFK Sunday night, but didn't make my flight in Cincinnati so that's where I ended up. Trip was good, now I'm back "home". How awesome for me.

I end with this:

Vocation Vacation Day Two Three sigh

2007-03-26T16:44:00.000-04:00

This right here is my first skyblog. I have spirited away from compulsive San Francisco and am en route to New York City, which is relatively unknown to me. Andrew Bird’s new album Armchair Apocrypha is helping me get there. I have managed to end up the sole passenger in the emergency exit row, which is exactly why I’m actually doing this right now—no prying eyes. Every seat gets it’s own little screen with movies and music and games and such. I just dropped $5 on Déjà Vu, which I paused in the middle for a power nap, because I could. Now I have the flight tracker up, which tells me that within minutes we’ll be flying right over my house at 535mph.

So, catch-up.

Saturday:

My flight from South Bend was overbooked and I accepted the airline’s offer to take a later flight in exchange for a fat travel voucher. I’ve never been in a position to do this, so I did, and I guess it was worth it. I still got window seats, and both people I sat next to were decidedly un-weird. One of them is now a myspace friend, ‘cause that’s just how fast I work it it these people.

In exchange for the voucher, I got to get to San Fran at 2 in the morning my time instead of what would have been 2 in the afternoon, and I got to have no luggage for a fully day because they disappeared it. I’m not sure how with a 12-hour head start I still beat my bag by almost a full day. I suppose it’s not really a fair fight, me having the ability to let people know where I should be going and having working legs and all. Pity the inanimate luggage!

I had no plan beyond renting a car and finding a place to stay. I had not reserved a rental, which was almost a problem.

Dollar Rent-a-car Attendant (male): We have NO vehicles available

Enterprise Attendant (male): We have SUVs and minivans but we can’t give you one because our computer is down, sorry.

Budget Attendant (male): I’m closed, go down to the garage

Budget Garage Attendants (3 Latinas): [exchange of grinning, banter, and chatter relating to how close to 30 we all were, some above, some below, but how great everybody looked etc.] Well how about we hook you up with a brand-new Eclipse instead of the Monte Carlo you were GONNA get?

Huh. So I accepted. Hit the road, decided on “south” and ended up in Cupertino at a place called the Wellesley Inn, only because it reminded me of the Welshley Arms, where in that one sketch, Will Ferrell makes sweet foreplay in a hot tub right up until he throws his back out.

Sunday:

Decided to go find some mighty redwood trees. I did, eventually, but not before I wandered onto the grounds of a minimum-security prison. On foot. Everybody was wearing orange except me and the guard that finally approached me. “Ya know you’re on prison grounds.” (“Uh, ya know the front gate is wide open and has a big sign that says ‘California Forest Conservation Center’?!”) But what I really said was “Yeah, I don’t think I’m in the right place. I want to see some redwoods please.” He gave directions which I followed, and I got my wish.

The rest of the day was more random driving. I had managed to get about 80 miles south of San Fran, so I just had to work my way back up. I had to return the car to the airport, where my bag had finally shown up. They didn’t give me any trouble for the mud that was all over it from my excursion up a dirt access road in the state park I’d been to. Got bag, shuttled to hotel, set back out on foot and finally found a suitable place to eat a mile later. JC got me home that night, because I’d wandered myself into total lostedness. No, not that JC, the one who’s good with Google.

Monday:

Web Design World started. Learned stuff, talked to people, got all hyped up about the internet and how I get to keep helping to make it. In the evening there was a meet ‘n’ greet where I both met and gret many smart, friendly people. A kid from Milwaukee named Chris seemed cool, and we decided to go have adventures. We went to uber-hip Amoeba Records on Haight Street and purchased items. Then we went to a bar called Top of the Tunnel, which was what you’d expect. Then we went to find out what Chinatown was like in the middle of the night. It was dead except for the one bar we did find, where we did NOT fit in, but stayed regardless. There were a lot of Chinese men in there playing a very loud game I can only describe as “slam a block of wood on the bar every 12 seconds and yell a lot”. I didn’t get the rules, but there was gambling and dice, too. I had this whole scenario worked out where they would at some point decide to invite the Westerners to join them, after which we would display natural prowess for their sacred game and end up leaving with their respect and our dignity. Didn’t happen, though. They ignored us. Then we were hungry, and had almost made it into a Carl’s Jr when we were accosted by a homeless woman in a long, black, faux fur coat. Our attempt to ignore her plea for money like the others was met by a mild verbal lashing about our being insensitive, her being a person, etc. Her argument was compelling, so we invited her to dinner. The three of us enjoyed burgers and sodas and awkward conversation. We paid, naturally—like gentlemen. I’ll never forget her technique of popping through the top of her coffee creamers with her corner tooth. So quick, so efficient. She told us about her son who could read at 3 years old and also how she could hook us up with absolutely anything we might want. Well I wanted to go to bed, and I didn’t need her help for that, so I handled that on my own.

A mighty redwood, a view of the coast, and a stump I thought looked like a place a leprechaun might like to sit.

Tuesday:
Daytime was more of the same. Learning, networking, et cetera. I was really just killing time until my Veruca Salt concert later that night at the Red Devil Lounge. Yes they are still around, and they've still got it! Before them were Charlotte Martin and some folks you have got to check out, Poets and Pornstars. I meant to buy their album but I forgot.

Random door

Vocation Vacation Day One

2007-03-25T03:53:00.000-04:00

I'm in a Wellesley Inn in what I believe to be Cupertino, CA. The day didn't go quite as I planned, which is saying something as there was absolutely no plan to start with. Sometimes my where-the-wind-blows-me attitude ends me up hungry and without any luggage in a strange hotel in the wrong city, completely exhausted.

Day one, and I'm having the time of my life.

Dear Everybody,

2007-03-22T14:19:00.000-04:00

"Verbage" is not a word. "Verbiage" is, but that's probably not what you meant. You meant to say "copy" or maybe even "text".

XOXOXO,
Tichael

P.S. Oh yeah, and "a lot" has a space in it. If you keep spelling it spaceless, I'm gonna start pronouncing it accordingly.

Test[e]s, test[e]s, one...two....THREE?!

2007-03-15T23:47:00.000-04:00

Test 1:
Click some colors, EXPOSE YOUR SOUL. Mine was straight-up clairvoyant and I'm not saying what it was.

Test 2:
Click some punctuation, EXPOSE YOUR GRAMMATICAL SHORTCOMINGS.

Test 3:
Get the glass, EXPOSE—well—I'm not sure yet because I haven't actually played the game "per se". I am absolutely going to though, believe you me. It looks at least visually amazing.

Oh, so that actually matters?

2007-02-27T17:04:00.000-05:00

I Never Even Got My Seven (Also There's a Camel)

2007-02-26T19:56:00.000-05:00

I saw two things this weekend that I thought I should share:

Without any actual experience with the "shorter" game, which I think is usually completely free, I have to believe that a full 90 minutes in heaven for $6.49 is probably a really good deal.

In case it's not self-explanatory, someone has decided that larger blob looks like a "CAMEL". I can't say I disagree, though I do think it looks more like a Bactrian Camel (Camelus bactrianus) than a Dromedary Camel (Camelus dromedarius).

The Genius of Parallel Dating

2007-02-26T17:31:00.001-05:00

"Let's face it, Lisa's not heading in a good direction" and a fella needs his "jewels".

http://www.bitquabit.com/2007/02/14/smart-guys-date-in-parallel/

2007-02-14T08:43:00.000-05:00

At this exact moment I wish I were in a small- to medium-sized European town/city and there was a light rain falling which would force me to retreat briefly into a cafe where the coffee would be disappointingly store-bought but the bread as fresh as possible, yet still not as inexplicably delicious as that created by the old blind woman who lives up the hill. At rain's end, I would bike to her place for stories of the old days and also for the purchase of a baguette or maybe even a beignet! [Apparently I just went and made France the country I'm in but I really didn't mean to.]. At 4:08, I would be back in town, at the train station, boarding for passage to The City and a concert of one of those bands I love that loves Europe more. It would of course end up being the greatest musical experience of my life, until the next one, duh.

But having written all that, and now in a new moment, I see that I'm actually HERE instead. And it's today. You know, this ONE day, with the "V" in it? Last I knew "V-Day" was about celebrating victory. Yet, I'm kind of stuck on "failure" today. Oh hey wait, V-Day was about victory in Europe. Ah ha.

There you go, bitches. "Touchy-feely" shit. Don't get used to it.

And also,

"Voilà! In view, a humble vaudevillian veteran, cast vicariously as both victim and villain by the vicissitudes of Fate. This visage, no mere veneer of vanity, is a vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished. However, this valorous visitation of a by-gone vexation, stands vivified and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin van-guarding vice and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition."

V, "V for Vendetta"

Top 10 Milks I've Enjoyed

2007-02-10T11:33:00.000-05:00

In no particular order:

Skim Milk (reigning champ)
Ice Milk
Goat Milk
Soy Milk
Banana Milk (OMG deliciousness factor 10!)
Chocolate Milk
Coconut Milk
Whole Milk
Strawberry Milk
Breast Milk (but I gave it up a long time ago)

10 Years I Lived in Texas...

2007-01-23T14:55:00.000-05:00

...yet I found my body mildly unprepared for what I inflicted up on it at lunch today. Sorry, body. Never again with the Texas Double Whopper, albeit sans onions. We're going to the gym tonight, yes we are.

Sertanly, Sir

2007-01-22T16:41:00.000-05:00

Dear Country Inn & Suites (by Carlson),

I'm very, very impressed. I don't know who approved that marquee message, or how many folks are going to get it, but well done, nontheless.

In unrelated news, I learned today that a double entendre is always a double entente, but not vice versa. "Dre" must mean "dirty" in Latin. Is that right, Dr?

Sign Me Up

2007-01-17T16:05:00.000-05:00

They up and built a fancy new YMCA in my little town. To say the least, it has put the community into a straight-up fitness FERVOR. And I got swept right up in it, though myself being in the minority of the "could stand to put on a few pounds" set. I was a little worried about the "C" in YMCA, and whether there was going to be a test of faith, or a solemn hand-on-Bible admittance ceremony but luckily, all I needed was my debit card for them to give a fat rat's ass about all that.

At first I was mad that I had to pay the same price just to come in and use the free weights as the folks that used the pools, basketball court, and took classes, but then I took a closer look at the classes available. One jumped out at me as somewhat intriguing¹ (inset). I gotta say, that sounds VERY progressive for a family outfit like the YMCA. Then again, have you ever heard the story about how they sent letters to wanted criminals saying they had won the lottery and to come to Address X to claim their winnings and when they showed up all giddy with anticipation of the evil they could soon fund, they were promptly arrested? Maybe this class is something like that, sneaky sonsofbitches. And maybe there's only one way to find out for serious.

¹Second choice would have to be the "Brazilian Sculpt" class. Apparently, it utilizes my "total core". Right in front of God and everybody.

Chimpanzeesus

2007-01-17T13:53:00.000-05:00

Folks, what we have here is a primatical mystery of messianic proportions!

Six Things

2006-12-18T17:06:00.000-05:00

Since reading blogs is way easier than creating them, I have me a nice little list going over at reader.google.com, Google's feed aggregator (I know, "Mmmmmm.....feed aggregator..."). Thing is, I've always thought it was a little gay that I had to go THERE to see if anything new had happened. I wanted to be notified as instantly and with as much pomp/circumstance as comes with every penis enlargement email I get. Finally, I have it. This is specifically for OS X users using the Google Reader, though. Sorry to the rest of you suckers.
Meezes ARE fun. I'm hereby throwing down on a prediction that somebody will "invent" a new website called "meezspace.com" which will integrate the exciting world of animated cartoon avatars with the social networking revolution that is myspace. (I put "invent" in quotes because I actually just now invented it, but I don't plan on doing jack beyond this paragraph. At least now when somebody thinks THEY thought of it, and goes to Google to make sure, I will ruin their fun. MEEZSPACE MEEZSPACE MEEZSPACE)
My personal favorite new word today is, and will be (unless replaced in the next 6 hours) "syncretic". Now I can take my favorite stuff from ALL the religions, come up with something really accessible...then just throw that out as nonsense, too!
Just in time for Christmas [2007]. WishBin is the only fully interactive internet-wide gift registry. This really is something the world needed.
The 10 Most Dangerous Playthings of All Time
Here is a hint at #1:
I decided that since I so glowingly recommended what I THINK is one of my favorite books of all time, I should maybe read it again to be sure. I'm not generally one to re-read or re-watch anything because there is SO MUCH unread and unwatched out there, but now I'm a little paranoid that I mis-recommended something that may have been life-changing to impressionable 1997 Michael, but will now end up being embarrassing and totally foreign to world-weary 2006 Michael, who is somewhat awesomer. This worry is partly based on the fact that in 1993 I would have told you to absolutely fuck whatever you were doing and go buy Yanni: Live at the Acropolis because it would probably insta-stiffen your nips right out and/or at least leave you speechless, jaw agape. [Sidenote: Yanni is in fact a Greek, and probably just mis-read that last sentence as "...leave you speechless, jaw selfless love of one person for another without sexual implications" and is like 'WTF does THAT mean?!'"] I guess my point is that maybe there should be a statute of limitations on all recommendations of a culturally-enriching nature.

Greatest Holiday Website Promotion Ever

2006-12-14T09:56:00.000-05:00

Well maybe not EVER, but I challenge you to beat it.

http://shaveeverywhere.com/

Reindeer, Reindeer, Reindeer...

2006-12-13T09:46:00.000-05:00

Sweet free Christmas song from a Swedish group. I've heard sweeter from that country though, so I guess that just makes it "sweedISH". Not sure how long it will be free, so get up on it, LITERALLY.

The Knife - Christmas Reindeer

But Wuth a Thpoonuhnim?

2006-11-30T13:42:00.000-05:00

Some people get names like "Dart MacKiltersley" or "Gwendolyn Anne Schnotterham" or other such unique, memorable monikers. I got "Michael Tucker" which, to be sure, is a "good English name" and one for which I am in fact most proud. I like to imagine I am descended from a famous band of travelling tumblers ("tuckers" yes?), rich in both money and talent, with a collective prowess marvelled at from corner to corner of Great Britain circa, oh, let's say 1840, since it's bullshit anyway. I was in fact a mediocre gymnast during part of my life, though never seemed to learn any of the "cool" tricks like the "handstand press" or the "back handspring" or the "elgrip Endo to a layout Jaeger". You know the one. But fuck, could I tuck! Still can. Tight little ball, forehead to knees—it's a thing of beauty.

Turns out, my superb tucking was nothing more than synonymonical coincidence, as "Tucker" is in fact a [ghastly] TRADE name referring to "a sewer who tucks" which I say to be LAME-o.

So listen, I don't hate my name, I'm just able to objectively recognize it as "unremarkable." Unremarkable last name combined with unremarkable middle name, (which is what I "go by"), combined with an unremarkable FIRST name, which I don't feel like mentioning, though it is the name of my father who is QUITE remarkable.

"Michael Tucker" does have a fantastic dual double-syllabical quality to it but lookit here, courtesy of the good people at HowManyOfMe.com:

HowManyOfMe.com

There are:
2,773
people with the name Michael Tucker in the U.S.A.

How many have your name?

So there's the rub: lots of us running around. Way more than 2,773 I bet, too. Some even famous.

I just needed more individuality. A pinch of je ne sais quoi. Something punchy. I needed The Spoonerism. "M" became "T", "T" became "M", and that was that. I had created something special. I had created . . . THE SPOONONYM.

My Kind of Game

2006-11-28T11:38:00.000-05:00

Generally speaking, I'm not a "gamer". The realer a game is, the less likely I am to enjoy it. Sports games for example—as a lover of ACTUAL physical activity, the logic is lost on me. And those first-person shooters....yawn. I need whimsy and/or a goal/mission/quest/etc. Whimsical quests are easily the most attractive, though only as a passing interest, as I have still never owned a "gaming console" or whatever they're called.

Here goes one I could get into:

10 Movie Quotes (slash "exchanges")

2006-11-14T11:28:00.000-05:00

Not to be considered a "top ten". Just the first ten to pop into my head. Hey, 'least I did it so shut up.

Legends of the Fall

Tristan: Samuel, God bless you. You are good at everything you try to do. I'm sure it'll be the same with fucking.
Samuel: Tristan, really. We're talking about my future wife.
Tristan: Oh, you're not gonna fuck her?
Samuel: No! I'm planning to be with her.
Tristan: I recommend fucking.
Samuel: You're impossible!
Tristan: You brought it up!

Made

Ricky Slade: We don't wanna talk, we wanna scream at people, but we don't wanna listen or problem solve and that's what's frustrating about the fucking dynamic of the group

The Thin Red Line

Private Witt: [voice over] This great evil. Where does it come from? How'd it steal into the world? What seed, what root did it grow from? Who's doin' this? Who's killin' us? Robbing us of life and light. Mockin' us with the sight of what we might've known. Does our ruin benefit the earth? Does it help the grass to grow, the sun to shine? Is this darkness in you, too? Have you passed to this night?

Zoolander

Matilda: I became...
Hansel: What?
Matilda: Bulimic.
Derek Zoolander: You can read minds?

With Honors

Courtney: What are you doing?
Monty: I'm ending our friendship.

Trainspotting

Mark "Rent-boy" Renton: [narrating] Choose Life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television, choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol, and dental insurance. Choose fixed interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisurewear and matching luggage. Choose a three-piece suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on Sunday night. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pissing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked up brats you spawned to replace yourselves. Choose your future. Choose life... But why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose not to choose life. I chose somethin' else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you've got heroin?

The Beach

Richard: From mine it's a generation that circles the globe and searches for something we haven't tried before. So never refuse an invitation, never resist the unfamiliar, never fail to be polite and never outstay the welcome. Just keep your mind open and suck in the experience. And if it hurts, you know what? It's probably worth it.

Fight Club

Tyler Durden: Listen up, maggots. You are not special. You are not a beautiful or unique snowflake. You're the same decaying organic matter as everything else.

Vanilla Sky

Sofía: Open your eyes. Open your eyes. Open your eyes. Open your eyes. Open you...

Lucky Number Slevin

Slevin: I have ataraxia.
Lindsey: Ataraxia?
Slevin: It's a condition characterized by freedom from worry, or any other pre-occupation, really.

My List of 100 Things About Me Who I Am Which Is This Guy

2006-11-13T08:28:00.000-05:00

1. I enjoy starting things but not finishi

Be coo like Downy

2006-11-09T11:20:00.000-05:00

Hey all, I know there was a lot of concern about the dove-hunting situation. Well, I just wanted to pass on this letter I got from a powerful dove friend of mine:

Hello, I'm Downy McGee, President of the Michigan Chapter of the International Featherhood of Larks And Pigeons (iFLAP). As the first mourning dove ever elected to this position it is especially exciting for me to announce the victory that has been achieved!

I am speaking of course of the ominous Proposal 06-3, an act to allow the establishment of a hunting season for mourning doves in the state of Michigan.

Well, the votes have now been counted, and nearly 69% of voters do NOT want to shoot us! PROPOSAL 06-3 IS DEFEATED!! Obviously this is fantastic news for us doves, who just want to go on with our simple lives of mournful cooing, cuddling with our mates, and generally being global icons of peace and harmony.

In summation, I'd like to offer my sincerest gratitude to everybody who voted against the proposal. A special thanks is due to all who showed up for the "Squawk the Vote!" rally over the weekend. We made money, we made connections, and we made friends.

Stay "coo", everybody. Stay coo.

I vodid

2006-11-07T08:29:00.000-05:00

Ah, the thrill of the vote. The names, the parties, the AGENDAS!!

I made it into what WAS my polling location last time around (anybody remember something going horribly, horribly wrong about two years ago?). Turns out, I didn't belong, but the good ladies of the 1st Ward were kind, and they were armed with appropriate paperwork to let a concerned citizen such as myself do my part!

And part my do I did. To the left, your right.

In voting, I invoked the same closely guarded technique I use for the college football pool every year. It is a secret formula of speed, partisan balance, and last name appreciation that always pays off. It was all very straightforward, until I reached the ominous Proposal 06-3, A referendum on Public Act 160 of 2004 - an act to allow the establishment of a hunting season for mourning doves

Well I wasn't having THAT, because I really like hearing THIS. So I said "No," simple as that. Because in voting you can't so much "wholeheartedly disagree" or, "agree begrudgingly". You get to go YES, NO, or abstain. There's no writing a little "WTF?!" next to the proposal to signify your horror. Just remain calm, cool, collected, et al and DENY.

If you want to kill a dove, it means you hate peace. And if you hate peace, well, you hate AMERICA. And if you hate America you must be a terrorist.

You aren't a terrorist are you?

2006-11-05T22:54:00.000-05:00

It is just shy of 11pm and I am exactly four taquitos into a delicious set of six I just prepared via microwave. Every part of me knows this to have been a very poor decision, but no part of me regrets making it. The regret is rather at having allowed myself to let the small bit of milk I did have, spoil. Woefully, I spilt the spoiled milk into the sink and did not cry. [It is at this point I'd like to mention that all SIX taquitos may now be considered "consumed".]

Wasn't there something flying about recently about short stories consisting of only six words? This is just a rough draft, but,

No more taquitos, milkless; I'm sad.

Feels kind of like writing a haiku but easier. Or maybe harder if I was supposed to go for poignancy, which I totally wasn't. And worse, I have no idea if a semicolon was appropriate there. A full-on colon didn't seem appropriate, but a period would have been too interrupting. Fuck it, like I care. Except I do! How can I defiantly break the rule if I don't know what it is?

AND FURTHERMORE, why isn't a "semicolon" a period? Does not the "semi" imply a certain "halfness"? And what's half of a colon? EXACTLY.

Back to the taquitos. Introducing these corn canisters of clogging cholesterol to my body at this late hour was necessary beyond reasons of simple hunger. Following a weekend in which I don't believe I made a single smart, healthy, "my body is my temple" decision, to confuse my stomach with something actually nutritious would have just been an exercise in "too little, too late".

And speaking of late...

2006-11-02T10:38:00.000-05:00

So I've been outed.

Well, fan-fucking-tastic. <-- See that? You like that? That's what you folks are in for if this thing is going to go on. I DO LOVE ME some colorful metaphors (aka "wurdy dirds"). I won't be pussyfooting around with my prose. No tiptoeing around topics. And no simply alluding to alliteration, that will just HAPPEN, a lot like it just did. Three times.

And now, a joke for the English majors:

A woman goes into a bar and asks for a "double entendre".

So the bartender gave her one.

Get out while you can. It's just gonna get worse. Unless of course this is the last post I ever create, which is somewhat likely.

I good you bid day.

2006-11-01T09:56:00.000-05:00

Today I have combined a vertically-striped shirt with herringbone trousers. It effing works and I'm not sorry. Deal with it.

There are certain songs I come across that absolutely change my life, if only for the few minutes I am listening to them. I can equate the effect of these songs on me to the feeling of encountering and being utterly captivated by a beautiful girl/woman/hot mamacita/what-have-you in a bar, grocery store, or perhaps the laundromat, which I NEVER go to. The experience begins and ends very quickly, and generally leaves me wanting more.

I share one such song with you now, against my inherent, musically-selfish tendency. To describe it in a word, "earnest". In three, "overload of intensity". Hope you like it. Sorry if you cry.

This is the song happening right here.