So it's only been like a month since I got back from the Vegas trip. These pics aren't late or anything.
In any case, you can go here and view them if you want. There's only 16 of them that I posted and most of you that read this won't find them interesting. They're mostly just for family and friends that have little/no concept of what gaming conventions are. Or Vegas.
Saturday, April 29, 2006
Sunday, April 23, 2006
Pain
Why is it that I can suffer head trauma and only get a bump with little pain, but when I stub my toe it hurts like bloody hell?
(For those that might post anything resembling a legitimate medical reason, this is strictly a rhetorical question inspired by the blinding pain my small left toe recently experienced...)
(For those that might post anything resembling a legitimate medical reason, this is strictly a rhetorical question inspired by the blinding pain my small left toe recently experienced...)
Updates
I made a few minor changes to the blog...added some posts and included a few new links to the side.
Does anyone know if Kyle has a blog somewhere? If you talk to him, just let him know I said hello and I hope he's doing well.
Does anyone know if Kyle has a blog somewhere? If you talk to him, just let him know I said hello and I hope he's doing well.
How can you be afraid of ET???
One thing that I distinctly recall about the friendship between Shannon and myself was her fear of ET (the alien, not Entertainment Tonight, although some might make a case that Mary Hart is one in the same). I, on the other hand, loved ET, largely because of Drew Barrymore's presence in the movie and claim upon my heart - yes I was smitten at age four - but ET was still cool in his own right. In any case, I came across another cutie gal at work that also has a fear of ET and it got me to thinkin...how can you still be afraid of ET?
Let's review.
ET never hurt anyone that was nice to him.
He's way smart.
He fits in with stuffed animals.
He'll trick or treat with you and not steal your candy.
His arms are toothpicks and his legs are like 9 inches long so you don't really have to be afraid of melee attacks, and even if he had a close-range weapon, all you have to do is walk quickly away.
ET can't give chase to you since his legs are only about 9 inches long - his 40 time would be something like 23 seconds. Think about it...if he starts barrelling down the trail after you at too fast of a clip his body is so proportionately long that eventually he'd just plop over because he's too top-heavy, and even more so if he does his go-go-gadget extend-o-neck trick.
He'll even chill with you and have a beer or ten!
These are not things to fear...these are things to cheer! Yup, I give ET my golden stamp of no-fear approval.
Let's review.
ET never hurt anyone that was nice to him.
He's way smart.
He fits in with stuffed animals.
He'll trick or treat with you and not steal your candy.
His arms are toothpicks and his legs are like 9 inches long so you don't really have to be afraid of melee attacks, and even if he had a close-range weapon, all you have to do is walk quickly away.
ET can't give chase to you since his legs are only about 9 inches long - his 40 time would be something like 23 seconds. Think about it...if he starts barrelling down the trail after you at too fast of a clip his body is so proportionately long that eventually he'd just plop over because he's too top-heavy, and even more so if he does his go-go-gadget extend-o-neck trick.
He'll even chill with you and have a beer or ten!
These are not things to fear...these are things to cheer! Yup, I give ET my golden stamp of no-fear approval.
Moments and jelly beans
It seems to me that life is like a bag of jellybeans - a collection of brightly-colored moments, each of which fills you with something. Some are more pleasant than others, some are bigger than others, some are just filler, and some clearly impact the remainder of your life.
When I met my first Arizona friend is one of those moments.
I moved from Ohio to Arizona when I was 5. I only went through one year of schooling in Ohio; it was called kindergarten but techincally it was closer to first-and-a-half-grade. I was bounced between first-and second-grade classrooms during the day for reading and math, then took recess with the kindergartners. I didn't understand that this was unusual at the time, but I knew I wasn't exactly well liked. When I got to Arizona I had no family and no friends, and largely entertained myself with little trinkets and toys I opened on the drive out here (yes, we drove from Ohio to AZ and got here on a day it was 118 degrees).
The first day of school came up here and I was put in first grade. I knew nobody. We played soccer at recess...well, they played. I tried, but I didn't understand for the life of me why you couldn't pick up the ball inside the lines. I ended up committing several "hands" penalties not understanding what I was doing and instantly villifying myself. Then lunch came, and Shannon Ashenfelter, a blonde-haired, pig-tailed, blue-eyed cutie asked me to sit with her at lunch. We had pizza...the kind that was cut into rectangles and used powdered cheese. We talked - strangely I don't remember what the conversation was about - and she became my first Arizona friend.
I was a rather timid individual and, had she not befriended me, I strongly believe my young life would have taken a drastically different shape, one far less pleasant than how it's turned out so far.
My family only stayed in that house for one year. Shannon's family and mine kept in touch for a few years, then grew apart. As fate would have it, though, she was dropped back into my life for a brief moment at work a few years ago. My company ended up hiring her as a representative and when I saw her name on the new-hire list I almost fainted. Instead I smiled as all the memories came back. When she first saw me in the department she dropped her pen and her jaw, stared for a second or two, and said, "Oh my god, it's like I'm looking at a ghost." We briefly hugged, smiled, laughed, then went about our days. Eventually, though, I sent her a letter at work thanking her for what she did so many years ago, and I count myself extremely fortunate to have received the opportunity to do so.
We all should be so fortunate.
When I met my first Arizona friend is one of those moments.
I moved from Ohio to Arizona when I was 5. I only went through one year of schooling in Ohio; it was called kindergarten but techincally it was closer to first-and-a-half-grade. I was bounced between first-and second-grade classrooms during the day for reading and math, then took recess with the kindergartners. I didn't understand that this was unusual at the time, but I knew I wasn't exactly well liked. When I got to Arizona I had no family and no friends, and largely entertained myself with little trinkets and toys I opened on the drive out here (yes, we drove from Ohio to AZ and got here on a day it was 118 degrees).
The first day of school came up here and I was put in first grade. I knew nobody. We played soccer at recess...well, they played. I tried, but I didn't understand for the life of me why you couldn't pick up the ball inside the lines. I ended up committing several "hands" penalties not understanding what I was doing and instantly villifying myself. Then lunch came, and Shannon Ashenfelter, a blonde-haired, pig-tailed, blue-eyed cutie asked me to sit with her at lunch. We had pizza...the kind that was cut into rectangles and used powdered cheese. We talked - strangely I don't remember what the conversation was about - and she became my first Arizona friend.
I was a rather timid individual and, had she not befriended me, I strongly believe my young life would have taken a drastically different shape, one far less pleasant than how it's turned out so far.
My family only stayed in that house for one year. Shannon's family and mine kept in touch for a few years, then grew apart. As fate would have it, though, she was dropped back into my life for a brief moment at work a few years ago. My company ended up hiring her as a representative and when I saw her name on the new-hire list I almost fainted. Instead I smiled as all the memories came back. When she first saw me in the department she dropped her pen and her jaw, stared for a second or two, and said, "Oh my god, it's like I'm looking at a ghost." We briefly hugged, smiled, laughed, then went about our days. Eventually, though, I sent her a letter at work thanking her for what she did so many years ago, and I count myself extremely fortunate to have received the opportunity to do so.
We all should be so fortunate.
Choices
In my line of business I value someone that can make a choice. Most of what's done where I work can be undone if the need arises so I can tolerate a certain amount of mistakes in judgement, but I can't get refunded the time lost to indecision.
Make a decision, execute it, and live/deal with the consequences.
And yet to this day it will still take me up to a half-hour on occasion to decide what I want for dinner.
Irony.
Make a decision, execute it, and live/deal with the consequences.
And yet to this day it will still take me up to a half-hour on occasion to decide what I want for dinner.
Irony.
Edmund Dantes Reincarnate
V is for rock on!
For those of you who don't know what I'm talking about, I'm referring to The Count of Monte Cristo and V is for Vendeta. I finally went and saw the movie and it more than lived up to my expectations. For those that might not have seen it I'll not divludge much of the plot, other than if you mix The Count with 1984 you've got a nice little summary.
And they just happen to be two of my favourite books!
Edmund is one of my favorite characters, if not my single favourite, in all the literature I've seen. I can only aspire to have the same skills to the same degree as he. It was great to see him in a new fresh setting.
The price of admission to see Edmund, however...now that's a different story. Nine dollars. Nine friggin' dollars to see a movie. Given the price of gas right now, that makes this summer's movie viewing a little more difficult since I won't be shelling out that much money each week to see a new one. Maybe I'll finally invest in a Netflix dealio.
And Reese's pieces. My favourite movie-watchin' treat!
For those of you who don't know what I'm talking about, I'm referring to The Count of Monte Cristo and V is for Vendeta. I finally went and saw the movie and it more than lived up to my expectations. For those that might not have seen it I'll not divludge much of the plot, other than if you mix The Count with 1984 you've got a nice little summary.
And they just happen to be two of my favourite books!
Edmund is one of my favorite characters, if not my single favourite, in all the literature I've seen. I can only aspire to have the same skills to the same degree as he. It was great to see him in a new fresh setting.
The price of admission to see Edmund, however...now that's a different story. Nine dollars. Nine friggin' dollars to see a movie. Given the price of gas right now, that makes this summer's movie viewing a little more difficult since I won't be shelling out that much money each week to see a new one. Maybe I'll finally invest in a Netflix dealio.
And Reese's pieces. My favourite movie-watchin' treat!
Saturday, April 22, 2006
News Fraud
Until recently I was under the impression that the "talent" on the news was so titled because they wrote their own stories (which are often largely biased and/or sensationalized). I didn't think many of them were all that talented writers producers, but whatever. Then I found out they don't even write their own stories for the most part and...yeah, not that I watch the news any longer, but now I really just don't care.
Talent? So now sitting there, lookin' purty, and reading someone else's half-assed crap is "talent?" Ugh. Whatever.
Here's an idea...someone go out and gather information, write it down for either me or yourself to read, and leave out any stupid sensationalistic nonsense. I can handle some mild bias, and if it's an editorial then bias is just fine, thanks. But for cryin' out loud, is there news out there that just speaks for itself? That doesn't need a pinwheel or fireworks to be good?
I'm actually kinda serious...if anyone has news sources they like that go easy on the bling (particularly bias towards any political party...i'm an issues guy, not a party platform guy), lemme know. I'm sure there's plenty of it somewhere but you just need to know where to go.
Talent? So now sitting there, lookin' purty, and reading someone else's half-assed crap is "talent?" Ugh. Whatever.
Here's an idea...someone go out and gather information, write it down for either me or yourself to read, and leave out any stupid sensationalistic nonsense. I can handle some mild bias, and if it's an editorial then bias is just fine, thanks. But for cryin' out loud, is there news out there that just speaks for itself? That doesn't need a pinwheel or fireworks to be good?
I'm actually kinda serious...if anyone has news sources they like that go easy on the bling (particularly bias towards any political party...i'm an issues guy, not a party platform guy), lemme know. I'm sure there's plenty of it somewhere but you just need to know where to go.
My children are a pack of wild animals (and I love them for it)
In my little neck of the woods at work there is one chief, six lieutenants (that'd be me), and depending on staffing levels somewhere around 55-65 worker bees who I affectionately refer to as "children." This has nothing to do with age, DNA, or paternal instinct, but rather the fact that they're just that damn whiney and needy sometimes, and many of them do things because they just don't know any better. And I love'em. I don't love what they do sometimes but when the rubber meets the road they're largely just quality individuals and I'm blessed to have them work for me...particularly when we stay open three hours longer than we're scheduled to and only have 80 minutes of lead notice to prepare for it.
In any case, my children tend to have lots of personal problems on the homefront. The vast majority are ages 18-28 and are dealing with school demands, parental challenges, childcare issues, abuses, addictions, and various other scourges. During the week they work hard and stress hard, then the weekend comes and...holy shit, it's like an orgy! They all have each other's cell numbers and myspace addresses and all that happy trash, so once Friday arrives it's not a question of IF there's a party, but more when and where. I took a look at their myspace network today and was definitely enlightened. I'm glad they all mostly get along, though. Many of them stress over the same things so it's somewhat theraputic (even if it is at the cost of vital organ function).
I also found out that, on occasion, I'm the topic of discussion amongst some of the folks at work. Evidently I've been known as "the hot supervisor" by some of the lady worker bees. This is flattering, to be certain, but I'm also "the only male supervisor" so I kinda take it with a grain of salt. Regardless, I'm told that some of the employees have had some lewd thoughts about me so now I can't help but wonder when I'm in meetings, "Is she listening to me, or just undressing me?"
I think I'm okay with both.
In any case, my children tend to have lots of personal problems on the homefront. The vast majority are ages 18-28 and are dealing with school demands, parental challenges, childcare issues, abuses, addictions, and various other scourges. During the week they work hard and stress hard, then the weekend comes and...holy shit, it's like an orgy! They all have each other's cell numbers and myspace addresses and all that happy trash, so once Friday arrives it's not a question of IF there's a party, but more when and where. I took a look at their myspace network today and was definitely enlightened. I'm glad they all mostly get along, though. Many of them stress over the same things so it's somewhat theraputic (even if it is at the cost of vital organ function).
I also found out that, on occasion, I'm the topic of discussion amongst some of the folks at work. Evidently I've been known as "the hot supervisor" by some of the lady worker bees. This is flattering, to be certain, but I'm also "the only male supervisor" so I kinda take it with a grain of salt. Regardless, I'm told that some of the employees have had some lewd thoughts about me so now I can't help but wonder when I'm in meetings, "Is she listening to me, or just undressing me?"
I think I'm okay with both.
Your license to complain has been revoked
Anyone who doesn't have more blog entries per month than I do is no longer allowed to complain that I don't blog enough. License revoked.
(I blame you)
(I blame you)
Monday, April 17, 2006
I'm just not that kind of guy
I'm a little shocked at some of the correspondance I've received regarding my post entitled "A Good Night" (two posts down). Those of you that know me and read this pretty much know or could presume that I'm not so much a kiss-and-tell kind of guy, and if I *do* tell, I'm not about to tell it like that. Yet I started to receive various emails and messags... blah blah disrespectful...blah blah cheauvanist...you make me sick...etc.
Are you kidding me? Even if I *was* speaking literally, this is the internet for cryin' out loud!!! Refreakinlax! This isn't CNN, The Wall Street Journal, 24, or something important like that. If you're going to complain about something, do it about something that actually matters. Besides, I'm not sexy enough to make something like that happen (yes, Hayden, I know we can all work on our Sexy index but knowing me I'd probably stab myself with one of those little mixed-drink swords in the attempt, so I'll just stick with the lovable dork angle...it's worked so far).
Anywho, here's the explanation. Read it and laugh, or at least quitcherbitchen.
A lady from work asked me to come over and help her move this unusually large box out of her apartment. She's a bit on the short side and the box is roughly 4' x 8' so I buzz over there to assist. When I see the box and the hall/stairs i have to navigate it through I shudder a little bit, so rather than carry it awkwardly I set it down on the stairs and ride it down to the bottom like a toboggan. So I rode her box.
After that was all taken care of we were just chillin in her apartment and she had a hole in her jeans at her knee. I started playing with the tear and she asked, "Are you fingering my hole?" Why, yes...yes I am.
It got late and I ended up crashing there. I was ready to just lay down on the couch and she said she would share the bed with me, so we did. So yes, I slept with her all night long in the same bed. All clothes remained on.
So that's it. All the "juicy" details you need to understand that the post was nothing more than a simple double entendre, and you can bet that if other similar situations occurr I'll post about those, too. I *am* that kind of guy.
I don't take myself very seriously. To think that others did...well, I'm not sure if that's sad or just plain funny.
Are you kidding me? Even if I *was* speaking literally, this is the internet for cryin' out loud!!! Refreakinlax! This isn't CNN, The Wall Street Journal, 24, or something important like that. If you're going to complain about something, do it about something that actually matters. Besides, I'm not sexy enough to make something like that happen (yes, Hayden, I know we can all work on our Sexy index but knowing me I'd probably stab myself with one of those little mixed-drink swords in the attempt, so I'll just stick with the lovable dork angle...it's worked so far).
Anywho, here's the explanation. Read it and laugh, or at least quitcherbitchen.
A lady from work asked me to come over and help her move this unusually large box out of her apartment. She's a bit on the short side and the box is roughly 4' x 8' so I buzz over there to assist. When I see the box and the hall/stairs i have to navigate it through I shudder a little bit, so rather than carry it awkwardly I set it down on the stairs and ride it down to the bottom like a toboggan. So I rode her box.
After that was all taken care of we were just chillin in her apartment and she had a hole in her jeans at her knee. I started playing with the tear and she asked, "Are you fingering my hole?" Why, yes...yes I am.
It got late and I ended up crashing there. I was ready to just lay down on the couch and she said she would share the bed with me, so we did. So yes, I slept with her all night long in the same bed. All clothes remained on.
So that's it. All the "juicy" details you need to understand that the post was nothing more than a simple double entendre, and you can bet that if other similar situations occurr I'll post about those, too. I *am* that kind of guy.
I don't take myself very seriously. To think that others did...well, I'm not sure if that's sad or just plain funny.
Friday, April 14, 2006
All systems go...sorta
So work's been two steps shy of hell this week and of the 58 hours we were open this week, I was there for 54 of them. I could go in tomorrow morning and help but, given that this is my only reprieve, I doubt I'm going to. Fortunately by the end of this week they brought all the systems back up to about 80% capacity in the disaster recovery center but the backlog of work was a bit overwhelming.
It turns out that when you mess with people's money and tell them they can't have so much of it, they get a little miffed (read as: "I'LL KILL YOU IF I GET MY HANDS ON YOU!!!"). I still like my job, stressful as it's been, and they really do a good job of keeping morale up in these mosts stressfull of situations. Lots of food. Free massages. Grab bags-o-fun (no moms included, though). Little things that go a long way in keeping the nasties at bay. Plus I was surrounded by some great people...a great team of supervisors that I work with, great employees that were quick to pitch in and lend a hand, and co-workers that happen to also be friends, confidantes, and loved ones. It doesn't get much better than that.
I didn't exactly finish it well, though, and yelled at someone I care about just before I left. That's not like me. I wish I hadn't done that. Not fun.
It turns out that when you mess with people's money and tell them they can't have so much of it, they get a little miffed (read as: "I'LL KILL YOU IF I GET MY HANDS ON YOU!!!"). I still like my job, stressful as it's been, and they really do a good job of keeping morale up in these mosts stressfull of situations. Lots of food. Free massages. Grab bags-o-fun (no moms included, though). Little things that go a long way in keeping the nasties at bay. Plus I was surrounded by some great people...a great team of supervisors that I work with, great employees that were quick to pitch in and lend a hand, and co-workers that happen to also be friends, confidantes, and loved ones. It doesn't get much better than that.
I didn't exactly finish it well, though, and yelled at someone I care about just before I left. That's not like me. I wish I hadn't done that. Not fun.
Friday, April 07, 2006
A good night
I rode her box, fingered her hole, and slept with her all night long.
Good times!
(No mom's were injured during the creation of this blog entry)
Good times!
(No mom's were injured during the creation of this blog entry)
Saturday, April 01, 2006
Did I Just Hear A Cow?
That's the first thing I said as I was getting out of the moving van today.
Yup, it was a cow.
Moo!
That's how far my mom's boss moved away from civilization. No, it wasn't a dairy farm. Just his neighbor's cow. WTH?
Anywho, there are certain things one should do when moving such as clear out any obstacles so your movers don't trip. At this place, however, there were vacuum cords, plant pots, and fountains in the way. Good times! I nearly had a safe dropped on me when I ripped the power strip out of the wall!
One should also consider asking for help. We were moving an entire house, starting at 7 this morning. It was myself, the husband, and one of his employees. That totals three bodies - mom and the dude's wife were inside doing cleaning or rearranging or something far less tiring - to move a whole fucking house, including the appliances, safe, HDTV, furniture, and 250 lb concrete turtle (yeah, weerd). My hands are swollen from scraping against oak furniture all day long. There's still essentially an entire house-worth of boxes to move. I'm not going back.
Oh, and while this doesn't have anything to do with the act of moving stuff, if you're building a $400,000 house (in California the home would go for about 1.2M depending on the area) you should consider painting it a reasonable color, one that doesn't make your friends point and go, "Geewwwww!" when the first see it (aka white and lemon yellow...the surrounding area is far more neutral). The inside is immaculate and the floor plan is particularly intelligent. Too bad all the good ideas ran out before it came to the exterior. But still, they've got a killer house and I hope they enjoy it.
Yup, it was a cow.
Moo!
That's how far my mom's boss moved away from civilization. No, it wasn't a dairy farm. Just his neighbor's cow. WTH?
Anywho, there are certain things one should do when moving such as clear out any obstacles so your movers don't trip. At this place, however, there were vacuum cords, plant pots, and fountains in the way. Good times! I nearly had a safe dropped on me when I ripped the power strip out of the wall!
One should also consider asking for help. We were moving an entire house, starting at 7 this morning. It was myself, the husband, and one of his employees. That totals three bodies - mom and the dude's wife were inside doing cleaning or rearranging or something far less tiring - to move a whole fucking house, including the appliances, safe, HDTV, furniture, and 250 lb concrete turtle (yeah, weerd). My hands are swollen from scraping against oak furniture all day long. There's still essentially an entire house-worth of boxes to move. I'm not going back.
Oh, and while this doesn't have anything to do with the act of moving stuff, if you're building a $400,000 house (in California the home would go for about 1.2M depending on the area) you should consider painting it a reasonable color, one that doesn't make your friends point and go, "Geewwwww!" when the first see it (aka white and lemon yellow...the surrounding area is far more neutral). The inside is immaculate and the floor plan is particularly intelligent. Too bad all the good ideas ran out before it came to the exterior. But still, they've got a killer house and I hope they enjoy it.
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