Song of the Day

Ashes Of American Flags ~ Wilco

The cash machine is blue and green
For a bundle of twenties and a small service fee
I could spend three dollars and sixty-three cents
On Diet Coca-Cola and unlit cigarettes
I wonder why we listen to poets when nobody gives a fuck
How hot and sorrowful, the machine begs for luck

All my lies are always wishes
I know I would die if I could come back new

We want a good life with a nose for things
the fresh wind and bright sky to endure my suffering
I'm a hole without a key if I break my tongue
Oh, speaking of tomorrow, how will it ever come?

All my lies are always wishes
I know I would die if I could come back new

I'm down on my hands and knees
every time I hear a doorbell ring
I shake like a toothache
every time I hear myself sing

All my lies are only wishes
I know I would die if I could come back new

I would like to salute
the ashes of American flags
And all the fallen leaves
filling up shopping bags


Christmas Questions ... with different answers

Q. Why do reindeer have red noses?
A. They are not equipped with ABS and thus tend to bump into things on slippery surfaces. This is why Santa is often seen with a red nose (the sleigh doesn't have an airbag, either).

Q. Why does Santa use Elves?
A. There is no trade union for Elves. They're easy to exploit.

Q. Is there really a Mrs. Claus?
A. Highly unlikely. Since Santa is surrounded by male figures (Elves, reindeer named Rudolph, Donner, Blitzen etc.) his sexual preference seems to tend towards homosexuality. He is said to have some problems finding a gerontophile/zoophile Elf for a threesome with a reindeer, though.

Q. Does Santa really live on the North Pole?
A. Uncertain. However, rumor has it that the story of Santa and the North Pole has nothing to do with the Arctic, but that Santa is known to frequently ask the Elves and reindeer if he can shove his pole up north. Obviously, this is related to the cryptic description "up where the sun don't shine", which applies to both the North Pole and assholes in general.

Q. Does Santa really work all year round making toys?
A. Get real! Check the box in which the Christmas gift came! Does it say "Made at the North Pole"? ("Made in China" more likely!)

Q. Then what does he DO all year?
A. Uncertain. Chasing Elves and reindeer, most likely. Maybe he spends his winters in Florida.

Q. Is the story about the little angel and the Christmas tree true?
A. Without a doubt. Santa has a temper and can develop a nasty attitude (he doesn't take stress too well).

Q. If so, why do the little angels on Christmas trees look happy (given the fact they have a tree up theirs)?
A. Little angels are known to be kinky.

Q. Do the polar bears on the North Pole cause Santa any trouble?
A. Not since Santa equipped the guard Elves with M-61 sub-machine guns.

Q. So Santa is basically a gun-crazy, homosexual, angry old man who exploits little Elves, fools around all day, and drives around in a sleigh that lacks basic security measures?
A. You forgot about the bestiality thing.

Song of the Day

Time For Me To Come Down ~ Amy Rigby

I'm driving past a field of red poppies
Hiding my left arm from the sun
I wouldn't think of stopping now
I'm on my way to see you

All of these thoughts I've been having
Sometimes it feels like I'm the only one
I've been on top of the mountain
And I do believe

It's time for me to come down
I wanna touch you
I wanna love you
I wanna feel you
I wanna deal with you

I'm drinking from a can of warm soda
Trying to keep myself alert
I wouldn't dream of sleeping now
I'm on my way to see you

Coming out of anaesthesia
I wanna know how it feels to be hurt
I've been above it all
But I've changed my mind

It's time for me to come down
I wanna know you
I wanna show you
I wanna give you
I wanna live with you

Driving sixty miles and out
You can hear me ....
Now the sun is sinking down
And the road is very rough

Stopping at a fast food restaurant
Trying to feed the butterflies
I wouldn't think of choking now
I'm on my way to see you

Had enough of early retirement
I wanna know how it feels to try
I've been above it all
But I changed my mind

It's time for me to come down
I wanna touch you
I wanna love you
I wanna feel you
I wanna deal with you
I wanna know you
I'm gonna show
I wanna give you
I wanna live with you


I totally was Sheldon tonight

So despite my dislike of most sitcoms ... I have become a fan of The Big Bang Theory.  Perhaps because I've been told I'm a perfect mix of Sheldon and Leonard.  Sheleonard, in fact, was a name given to me by a friend.  I find it amusing. I'm nowhere NEAR that smart, nor that full of useless information, but to be recognized as such for the intelligence and randomness and ability to technical on people is rather amusing.

Then again, I do support Sheldon's take on astrology:  "Yes, it tells us that you participate in the mass cultural delusion that the sun’s apparent position relative to arbitrarily defined constellations at the time of your birth somehow affects your personality."

But anyway ...

Today, we had snow. And ice. And as anyone who lives in an area that gets such delicious precipitation in cold months can tell you, almost everyone hates cleaning off their car.  That's why they build garages and buy carports.

However, I got to use science on my (probably low-double-digit-IQ) neighbor who, as he said, plays guitar for a living.  Now that's not an insult at guitar players, but seriously ... you make a living playing guitar in Youngstown, Ohio? We're the cultural armpit of America. Hell, a local hero (Kelly Pavlik) couldn't sell out a Division II college basketball arena (Beeghley Center) for a world title fight (WBO and WBC Middleweight belts, which he holds) in his home town.

Then again, there wasn't beer at the fights because the fine people promoting the fight forgot to apply for a beer permit, assuming the venue would have one.  That's good work boys.

But back to my neighbor.  Who I've heard play guitar while he sits on his patio. I'm thinking people pay him to STOP playing, but what do I know?

I'm out there scraping my windows, in 25 degree temperature, wearing a hockey jersey, no hat, no gloves, jeans and shoes ... he's bundled up in a big-ol ghetto bubble jacket with fur-lined gloves and a hat under his hood, shivering like it's 50 degrees colder than it is ... struggling like hell to clear the ice off his windows.

I whip through my car, front, back, all four sides, and clear the snow off so it doesn't blow onto the front or back windows ... he asks where I got such a great snow scraper.  I said "Speedway Gas Station. Was all of two dollars."  He said he paid ten bucks for his, and his handle was metal and mine was wood.  I told him it's not the tool, it's how you use it.


And then, my friends, it went all sciencey:

Me:  "You're scraping your windows wrong.  Because the glass is at an angle the snow or ice forms with a bottom heavy crystal structure. You're scraping side to side, which is against the grain of crystal. I'm scraping top to bottom, therefore, attacking the offending ice crystals at their weakest point, the top. That's why my two dollar ice scraper is out performing your ten dollar one. It's knowing how to defeat your enemy and doing it with the least physical output."

Him (trying and realizing top to bottom works much better): "You're pretty smart."

Me (externally): "Thanks."

Me (internally): "Bazinga, I don't care."

From the Bizzaro Files

A little bit of something I'm reading kind of hit me as ... well ... me:

It made me kinda glad I didn't have a relationship of my own; she'd probably leave me and become a nun. Or a lesbian. Or a lesbian nun. Are there lesbian nuns in real life? I could only assume so.

Maybe I should shave my head and become a monk -- then I wouldn't have any women problems. No more crazy women, no more awkward first dates, no more awkward encounters with parents, no more backbiting female friends of hers, no more lewd comments from mine, no more sex (not that I've been having much lately anyway), no more cuddling on the bed watching a move, no more lulled to sleep by her breathing, no more everything. Instead, I'll become one of those wire-fu monks that can shatter steel with his fist, and fly from tree to tree with my super awesome kung-fu grip, and then wander the earth like Quai-chang Kane.


When I Rule The World ...

Just random things popping into my head about what will be different when I rule the world:

  • ALL candy canes will be pink and white and PEPPERMINT only. None of this fruit flavor or fruit color. NO. Candy canes are always meant to be pink and white and peppermint flavored.
  • Basketball games will have a 2-hour time limit ... with a single 15-minute add-on for the 10-minute overtime period. There's no reason the last two minutes of a basketball game should take 25 minutes.
  • The phrase "If the playoffs started today" would be outlawed. They don't start today. They start when the regular season is over. Period.
  • John Madden will be executed for dumbing down the art of broadcasting.
  • John Buccigross will be named Broadcasting Czar. His seat will allow him to execute, on the spot, morons like John Madden.
  • A select set of drivers will have their cars outfitted with Star Trek type phasers that simply make idiotic drivers vanish.
  • I will own the world's first teleportation device. After the bugs have been worked out scrambling up my enemies.
  • Great Lakes Christmas Ale and Michelob's Winter's Bourbon Cask Ale will be available year round.
  • Shitty flavorless light beers and lite beers will vanish.
  • The size 0 will not exist in women's clothing. NOBODY is a size 0.

Oh, I'm sure there are more ... these are just the beginnings. What's your list?


Song of the Day

"Talking To My Angel" ~ Melissa Etheridge

Don't be afraid
Close your eyes
Lay it all down
Don't you cry
Can't you see I'm going
Where I can see the sun rise
I've been talking to my angel
And he said that it's alright

I've always had to run
I don't know just why
Desire slowly smoking
Under the midwest sky
There's something waiting out there
That says I've got to try
I've been talking to my angel
And he said that it's alright

This town thinks I'm crazy
They just think I'm strange
Sometimes they want to own me
Sometimes they wish I'd change
But I can feel the thunder
Underneath my feet
I sold my soul for freedom
It's lonely but it's sweet

Don't be afraid
Close your eyes
Lay it all down
Don't you cry
Can't you see I'm going
Where I can see the sun rise
I've been talking to my angel
And he said that it's alright

I've been a huge fan of Melissa Etheridge since I first saw her play a dive bar in the Strip District in Pittsburgh in 1985. Some friends and I decided to to dahn-a-Shtrip, as the natives say, and we headed to a bar we knew would serve a bunch of 17-year-olds and found out there was a cover charge of $3 ... I asked for what? Guy said, "Some girl with a guitar."

Yeah, she was that girl. It rocked. I've been a fan ever since. This just popped up in iTunes and made me realize why I have a playlist of Melissa Etheridge songs. She's great.


Ladies, let the beat down begin ...

A man was sitting alone in his office one night when a genie popped up out of a magic lamp sitting on his desk.

"And what will your third wish be?" the genie asked.

The man looked at the genie and said, "Huh? How can I be getting a third wish when I haven't had a first or second wish yet?"

"You have had two wishes already," the genie said, "but your second wish was for me to put everything back the way it was before you made your first wish. Thus,you remember nothing, because everything is the way it was before you made any wishes. You now have one wish left."

"Okay," said the man, "I don't believe this, but what the heck. I've always wanted to understand women. I'd love to know what's going on inside their heads."

"Funny," said the genie as it granted his wish and disappeared forever, "That was your first wish, too!"


Again, I *AM* Indie Rock Pete

see more hipster robot webcomics and pixel t-shirts

(darn blogger layout ... click to see full size ... and yes, you're welcome!)


Dating Sites Don't Get Me

The latest example ... a woman in my age/distance wheelhouse looking for someone, in her words, humorous.

My response:

I have a humerus... does that count?

Her response:

What's a humerus?

*SIGH* even the womens wanting funny don't get me.

I'd be a monk if I had faith.


Random Wonderings, part 65

(BTW, the 65 is a random number. I stopped counting.)

I've not spent more than a couple of hours in Yonkers, NY, but I read somewhere in addition to no parking zones, they have no standing zones. WTF? And yes, it is a ticket-able offense to stand in a no-standing zone. And the fine for standing in a no-standing zone is being increased to $70.

I love reading the USAToday (known in the biz as McPaper because of they way they've dumbed down journalism). They are a classic example of how stupid a culture we've become, and how well they either mock us, or enable us to remain dumb. Now they're just trying to scare the fun right out of Halloween. Fuckers.

New NBA Season starts today ... and for the 41st consecutive year, I don't care.

A 19-year-old Norwegian is the World Champion of Monopoly. Damn socialist. Oh, he's a recent graduate of the Oslo Private Gymnasium school. (Wait, WHAT?) ... oh, and he beat a Russian for the title. Damn commies. (For the record, last time an American won ... 1974.) Monopoly, by the way, is banned in Cuba and North Korea.

And finally ... proof that some women will do damn near anything for shoes ... while hundreds died in recent flooding in the Philippines ... Imelda Marcos' shoes were not among them. Despite the fact she has pending graft charges still being fought out in court.


Broken Record, Track 7 - Windows 7 rocks

I hate to keep sounding like a broken record about how amazing Windows 7 is ... but check this out:

I just downloaded the new NVidia Graphics Drivers for my 512mb Video Card ... and didn't have to restart to apply the current (and proper) Windows 7 Driver so I can have my 1680 x 1050 native resolution on my 22" widescreen LCD.

Can anyone out there remember EVER changing a video driver in Windows and NOT having to reboot? Hell, you used to have to reboot when changing screen resolutions.

Yeah. Windows 7. It rocks.


A Day In The Life of Manny Malhotra

So as I'm perusing the channel lineup (online, that is) for what tier of service I want to buy for cable at the new place (move-in date 9/15); I'm struck realizing for two channels, alone, I have to go with the whole package.

What two channels? The NHL Network and the NFL Network.

Yep, if they don't screw you with the ticket prices, they'll get ya with the TV stuff.

Oh well, I'll watch the hell out of both of those channels, so to me, they're worth the extra price level.

The NFL is a given ... but damn am I looking forward to the NHL network. Hockey, 24-7-365. Hell to the yes.

I mean, outside of the classic series and classic games and old-time hockey (Can I get a shout of Eddie Shore?), today I'd so watch "A Day In The Life of Manny Malhotra" ... formerly of the Columbus Blue Jackets. (Yes, it's a real show.)

I've not seen the show, but based on the fact training camp invites have been sent to several of his peers, he remains an unrestricted free agent with a telephone that's not ringing, it might go something like this:

"Hi. It's 6:30. I'm Manny Malhotra of the Please-Some-GM-Offer-Me-A-Contracts. I'm a pretty good center. By that I mean the freaking Blue Jackets let me walk away. So it's September, I should be in training camp, but here I am, sitting by the phone."

We cut to the kitchen. Manny is eating some Wheaties. They are the breakfast of champions. One has to admire his optimism. From the left, Mrs. Manny (Joanna, sister of Steve Nash ... for reals) appears. She sits down and pours a bowl. She asks Manny to pass the milk. He misses her hand by about 18 inches, and watches as the milk falls to the table, but somehow, doesn't spill.

You hear a door open. A man wearing a Red Wings jersey walks briskly through the kitchen, not even looking as Manny stands up. The stranger grabs the milk off the table. He slaps Manny in the chops when Manny says "Hey, that's my milk" but never slows down, nor drops the milk.

Manny and Mrs. Manny watch the guy walk away. Mrs. Manny hands her hubby a towel. He sits back down holding it up to his bleeding mouth. Nothing is said about him refusing to challenge his neighbor to a fight, or defend his honor, or get his milk back. Apparently, that's as common at home as a defender stealing the puck, slapping him in the shin and skating away is on the ice.

His wife looks at him. Says "Hey, since I can't eat dry cereal, can you at least put the bowl in the sink?" She watches as Manny walk slowly across the kitchen, all alone, and drops the bowl on the floor, missing a wide-open sink despite having no defense or goalie in the way. Again, his wife looks on as if this is nothing out of the ordinary.

Manny then trips on the hardwood floor as he turns around. Shaking his head, he stands up, looks around for a phantom call from the ref, then heads back to the living room. He sits at the end of his couch, next to the phone.

Which still isn't ringing.

"I don't get it. I was drafted in the first round by the New York Friggin' Rangers. And now the Blue Jerkits won't even sign me?" Sigh.


Hell yeah. I'd watch the shit out of that show. But you Blue Jackets fans saw that all last season ... didn't ya?


Youngstown Style Pizza

Yep ... hit Jimmy's today for lunch.

This, my friends, is a $2 piece of Youngstown pizza.

And yes, that's a full-size Nature Valley granola bar.


A Break for the Home Team?

So back about a year ago I replaced the dead Icey with Ivy ... a 2001 Pine Green Saturn SL2 that came complete with a two-year, 24,000 mile warranty. Well, I said, that should just about keep covered for a year, based on how I drive.

Then ... I started my new (old) job and was finding myself driving to and from Cincinnati or Youngstown once a week, racking up the miles.

Then last week my car nearly overheated ... I looked ... and WOAH ... radiator was nearly empty. So I chuck in some fluids ... didn't notice a leak, but with it being summer and running the AC ... who really knows if that's condensed water or not as you pull out of the parking lot, eh?

So this week, now that the 95% of my stuff is moved, I decided to take the car to the shop and hope I still had some warranty left. Or at least enough that they could charge me $35 to tell me what was wrong so I could struggle through fixing it, or call on friends who could fix it in their sleep.

Turns out, in a stunning break for the home team, I'm still within 2,500 miles of the end of my warranty, so PERHAPS I'm covered. I say perhaps because it's a limited warranty. Limited to drive components, engine, transmission, that kind of big stuff.

So with trepidation I dropped the car off at the dealer this morning, and lo and behold they call me with the news that it's not a leaky radiator, nor a blown hose, but the water pump that's all jacked up.

Hmmm ... water pump ... water pump ... sounds expensive.

NO! In yet ANOTHER STUNNING DEVELOPMENT, the water pump is one of the few items that's covered under my limited warranty and they'll be done fixing it in about two hours.

Oh, and it won't cost me a DIME!

YAY! I caught a break. In fact, I've caught several this week ... work stuff has gotten significantly less stressful and I'm finally mostly moved and know I won't have much left ... and all my stuff fit into my storage unit.

Oh, and I'm going to look at house next week ... so things are looking up in my world.



Please Pre-Grammar Check in Advance

So as I'm pumping gas into the uHaul truck, I saw this zinger on the gas pump.

Maybe because my brain was totally in shut-down mode I just took a picture and drove away.

However, this is just wrong on so many grammar levels:

How exactly do you pay before you pay? How can you prepay ... in advance?

You can prepay, or you can pay in advance. Without dividing by zero and unleashing all that is unholy and forcing us to watch Rick Moranis mate with Sigourney Weaver, again, you can't.

Oh, by the way, this was a Circle K ... with BP Gas ... so it wasn't some Mom and Pop shop. That there's a corporate sticker, on each and every pump in exactly the same place.

So because my brain is in shut-down mode, I have a new idea: I'm gonna make a shirt that says "Please pre-purchase me a beer in advance."

And when I'm asked "In advance of what?"

In advance of you buying me a beer the first time.

Happy drinking for me!


Damn you, Captain Quint

I think I need a bigger boat. I got 14 feet of shit shoved into a 10 foot truck. And I still have some other stuff. I did leave enough room to get the matress and box springs in, the computer desk might take some shoehorning. And my other table. Oh.

Man, I hate hate hate hate hate moving.

Oh, and now I can't sleep.


More random Eric weirdness

So I have two absolute rules when buying furniture:

1. It has to come in black.
2. It has to be something I can carry myself.

I remembered the second as I was dragging my food pantry to the truck today. It is one of those "build-it-yourself" pressboard things. And weighs about 90 pounds.

And I've determined I'm going to find somewhere I can live a damned long time this time, and have money to pay for movers next time.

How stressed out have I been? Today, I got the moving truck with the car carrier to tow Ivy and promptly drove halfway home before I realized I forgot to put the car on the carrier.

Yeah. I'm that smooth.

And tonight, about 75 minutes ago, the battery in the clock in my bedroom died. It's been 9:55 for a while.

Oh, and since I moved last time in February in freezing, icy conditions with a ton of snow in NEOH, it's only fitting I move this time in August, when it's 80 degrees at 10:30 with 80 percent humidity. And tomorrow is going to be 91 degrees. Yep, I can pick the days and time to move.

Talk to you next time from the Mahoning Valley!

Dear Columbus ...

Dear Columbus ...

Once again, I find myself packing my shit and leaving you.

I wish we could just commit to each other.

I mean, really, I like you. I believe you like me.

But this job thing ... it just doesn't last.

Twenty months here, then gone. Then back, for 16 months, nine of which were in Columbus. Now ... after 6 months on a new job .. gone again. Back to Youngstown for the same job I left you for the last time.


Oh well. Looks like I'll be hitting up my good friend I-71 again as I come back to visit you.


Hitler finds out Michael Jackson has died. O.M.F.G


Dear Comfest ...

Thanks for kicking my ass for three consecutive days.

Quick highlights ... I'll have some photos and videos of all that and more later this week:

  • Hanging with friends all day! I love you people.
  • Ryan Smith and Miss Molly on the Gazebo.
  • A very ill Leah-Carla Gordone fighting off a summer cold to rock the Solar Stage.
  • Help Is On The Way and Happy Chichester on the Main Stage. Help Is On The Way looked and sounded great ... they're either dead on or dead awful.
  • Oh, and there was this little alt-country act called Two Cow Garage who left such an impression that EVERYONE was talking about that show all weekend. They blew up the main stage to end the day. Wow.

  • Again, - hanging with friends all day ... all but two were different from Friday ... but again ... I love you people.
  • Hanging out at the Offramp Stage with Jessie and Casey and Phil and Amber and Jamie and random Treehouse Friends.
  • FINALLY seeing Jen Miller on the Jazz Stage when it wasn't raining on her.
  • Bookmobile and the Kyle Sowashes and The Receiver rocking up the Offramp Stage.
  • Colin Gawel and Ghost Shirt owning on the Gazebo Stage.
  • Willie Phoenix rocking the hell out the Main Stage.

  • Walking around enjoying the last day of my fifth Comfest just taking it all in.
  • Watching some amazing performances on the Gazebo Stage while hanging with Quinn and Jess, and Andy and Alli, and Ron and Elliot, and Shane, Micah, Bernadette, Anissa, et.al.
  • Ukulele Man and Jason Quicksall and Megan Palmer and The Randys were amazing.
  • Lydia Loveless put on a great show on the Offramp Stage that had punk rock chicks dancing with their dogs. Anytime you intro a song with "This next song is for all the sluts and whores in the crowd" it's a good time.
  • The Spikedrivers on the Main Stage.
Top Three Comfest Moments:
  1. Two Cow Garage
  2. The Receiver
  3. Willie Phoenix
  • Dude getting stabbed to death. Always a bummer.
  • HUGE blister on my toe (granted, not the same as above, but that's a tough act to follow).
  • The amount of trash I (and my fellow Cleanup and Recycling crews) cleaned up during Saturday night cleanup shift. It's not the damn dirty hippies at Comfest, it's the apathetic kids and white trash that make the messes. Hippies know enough to clean up after themselves. Hell, they started the environmental movement.
  • Trying, once again, to like a certain band because a friend does, only to realize, I don't.
  • Missing Erika Carey.
  • Not finding the Nye's on Friday.
  • Not able to walk well enough to do cleanup and recycling on Sunday because of the blister on my toe that's huge.
  • Having to wait another year for Comfest 2010.


THIS ...


Two Cow Garage ... with friends ... rocking the fuck out of the main stage.




Good lord that's a sammich

No, this wasn't my lunch ... no way in hell I could have eaten this and not taken a nap.

But it did look good. It's the All In Burger from Red, Hot and Blue in Herndon, Virginia.


Dear BW3 in Norwood, Ohio

Fuck you.

Seriously. Fuck. You.

Now, having said that, let me tell you the ways:

1. Lying bartenders.
2. Shitty service.
3. Clueless manager.
4. Lying managers.
5. Clueless bartenders.

Let me explain.

1. Lying Bartenders

I walk into BW3's at 6:50 p.m. I would love to play some Buzztime Trivia, get ready to watch hockey, and suck down some iced tea because I'm on call for work and won't drink. Which is good, because they're out of the beer I normally drink, anyway. I ask for a trivia box. Bartender says "They're broken." I say, "What?" She says, "All the boxes are broken. Nobody can play."

Now last week when I was in there, same bartender told me that most of the boxes they had were in disrepair and she didn't have any that worked behind the bar, however, I managed to snag one from a server on the restaurant side. And yes, her tip reflected that, and her lack of service.

So her telling me that this week was even lamer. So I order an unsweetened iced tea, take a seat and read the USA Today since trivia doesn't work.

But wait. I look around. There are people playing trivia. And poker, too, which operates on the same server.

Hmmmm. Lying whore.

So I continue reading the paper, sending text messages to one of the managers at the BW3 I play at and give him the torrid details of this disaster in the making.
Which brings us to:

2. Shitty Service

So after an hour of sitting there with a single (now empty) glass of iced tea, the other server, who was very nice, comes up and asks if I want a refill. I say yes, and would like to order food. She says, "Oh, let met get (other bartender)." I say "No. I'd much prefer you and she's already lied to me once tonight and ignored me after my initial order. And you've not lied to me yet. And noticed me sitting here with an empty glass. So you win." She laughed. The kind of laugh that people laugh when you point out one of their co-workers sucks and they can't agree, but acknowledge that you are correct by a) laughing and b) not denying or defending. So I ask her if she can put the hockey game on and she says "Oh, sure. What channel?" I tell her, she puts the game on instead of Women's Tennis and all is good.

Next time she comes around, she says "Oh, you wanted food, too, right?" and takes the order, makes sure my iced tea is kept filled and eventually brings my food over. That's when I ask to speak to her manager. Which leads us to:

3. Clueless Managers

Josh comes over and introduces himself nervously. I tell him about outright lie from the bartender; the total lack of service, the sitting there for 25 minutes with an empty glass, how I spend three or four nights at various BW3's and tip accordingly.

He says, "I'm sorry. Thanks for letting me know" and walks away.

I look around the bar, I count heads. There are 52 people there. All the bar seats are full, four guys are playing poker (on the allegedly broken Buzztime Trivia system) There are 9 people in Red Wings jerseys, 2 in Red Wings hats; 5 in Pens jerseys, 3 in Pens t-shirts and 1 with a hat; compared to two people wearing Reds hats. No Reds jerseys, no Reds t-shirts.

So what's the sound in the bar? Game 51 out of 162 games the Cincinnati Reds will play during the 2009 Major League Baseball Season. Hey, I understand I'm in Cincinnati. But a smart bartender / bar manager / etc. will look at the crowd, determine what they're there for, and adjust televisions accordingly. Even if it's not for the home team. The popular overrides the local, especially when the local is 2-1/2 games out of first place. I've been in bars in Cleveland that show Steelers Games. Bars in Columbus that show Bengals games. Bars in Columbus that show Steelers games. They base it on the crowd.

Except the BW3's in Norwood. Who had sound for the Reds game.

So I ask Josh about it. This brings on:

4. Lying Managers

So the other manager on that night, who's name I didn't get, was working the AV equipment. He walks past, I ask him why he has the sound on for the Reds game, not the STANLEY CUP FINALS. He says, "Someone asked for the sound on the Reds game." So I ask him to look around and judge the crowd and see who's watching what. He says, "I have to go with what Josh wants on the sound." And walks away.

Josh walks past again. I catch his attention, again, and he, again, nervously approaches me. I ask him why I had to ask for hockey on TV versus women's tennis when it's the Stanley Cup Finals. He says, "Oh, I didn't realize it was the finals." Really? How is that possible that you run a sports bar and don't know that? Oh, you're lying. You get a daily sheet of what's on the various sports channels that your bar pays for. I know this because I've seen it.

He then says, "Oh, and I talked to the server about the trivia. She said the server needed rebooted, and the other manager did that. She should have gotten you a box, though." Yeah, ya think? Again, he walked away offering nothing more than an apology.

And, unknown to Josh, if you reboot the server, you kick all the people playing off the server. I know this. I manage about 3,000 servers, and if I reboot one with a user connected and using an application on that server, they get disconnected. So, Josh, you, too, are a lying whore.
And finally, we wind up with ...

5. Clueless Bartenders

Now me being me ... I decided to share my lack of enjoyment of the 90 minutes I spent at the BW3 in Norwood with the bartender who lied to and then ignored me. Because I'm all about the customer service.

In my wallet I have the receipts from my Saturday night at BW3 playing music trivia and watching hockey; and my Sunday night at BW3 playing trivia and watching hockey. Both show a bar tab of about $35 with a 20% and 30% tip (sorry, service on Sunday was significantly better than Saturday). If I'm spending 4 hours at your bar, I tip like I'm spending 4 hours at your bar. I was a bartender. I know the system.

So after I tell her what a total opportunity she blew, she looks at me and says, "Well, people who normally drink iced tea don't tip well." I said, "Yeah, I know. But when you assume that and ignore accordingly, and lie to your customers, and act like you don't really care about your job, all that is reflected in your tips that you receive from all your customers who recognize shitty service and tip accordingly. Or don't tip. Perhaps you should learn that the phrase TIPS actually stands for To Insure Proper Service ... meaning, I get proper service, I tip accordingly to the time and service, not the bill. I'm sorry you work in a BTW’s in a shitty college-level neighborhood bordered by a ghetto ... but we're not all like that." Or something close to that, hitting all the highlighted points there I made. But I did use the 'BW3's in a shitty college-level neighborhood bordered by a ghetto' part.

So ... to sum up this missive ...

BW3 in Norwood ... Fuck you.


Reasons I hate TV #433

So in the rare event I watch TV, I tend to stick to live sporting events or stuff on the DVR so I can avoid the tripe that comes with flipping channels passing by what is passed off as entertainment or infotainment.

Like "The Cougar" ... the "hit" show on TVLand (wait, isn't that the network that plays Hogan's Heroes, and Gunsmoke, and M*A*S*H* and all those great classic shows? Yes, yes it is. Oh, and isn't that the network that's a spin-off of Nickelodeon, the kids' network? Yes, yes it is.) So WTF is this show? Oh, here's their short take:

Meet "The Cougar": Stacey, a beautiful, blonde mother of four from Arizona. As the star of TV Land PRIME's new reality competition dating series, Stacey -- who's a successful and determined real estate agent -- is eager to shatter dating stereotypes. She believes society has placed a double standard on women who date younger men and wants to prove that age is simply a number.

The average age of her Cubs, as they're called, is 24.8. Including one 23-year-old pool boy. Does this sound like a bad porn, or what? But pool boy didn't make the final four, however.

So why is a "successful and determined real estate agent" competing on some second-rate cable network that I wasn't even aware produced original shows for the love of a younger man? Again, I go to the website for that answer:

"Stacey's dating experiences have led her to believe that men her age and older live under the pressure of a "ticking clock" that dampens their spontaneity and zest for life. Her personal success is based upon upbeat optimism, and she believes that younger men have a similar spirited tempo, a demeanor that Stacey finds crucial for her future love interest to possess -- a love interest that she plans to find on The Cougar."

Oh, really?

Please. I dated woman younger than me who had the ticking clock thing and who were quite content with their decreased spontaneity and zeal for life. I've had my share of those types, too. So rather than settle, I keep looking.

But lets long-range-view this: On the RARE event she and her successful cub do get married (none of the 13 men who were The Bachelor married said bachelorette from their show; of the four completed series of The Bachelorette, one couple is married and has two kids; two were engaged but broke it off, one declined the proposal) .. what's the future going to hold? Let's just look at what she's setting up: in 15 years, she'll be 55, probably post-menopausal, less beautiful, and with a 40-year-old guy who's going to want the red convertible and arm candy.

And as she sits there on the couch wondering where did it all go wrong and where did he learn that from ...one of her grandkids shows her a rerun of the TV show where she picked him. Oh, yeah. Pot. Kettle. Black.

But anyway, that's not the purpose of this rant. The purpose is "What if this were reversed and a 40-year-old guy was on TV picking over 25-year-olds?"
The show would be called "The Pervert."

[and for the record, don't mention Rock of Love or whatever-the-hell-that-freak Flavor Flav and his car-grill of a mouth TV show was. Yes, I'm aware, they're both over 40 and were chasing the young women ... but the concept is significantly different. Flavor Flav and Brett Michaels are, for whatever reason, celebrities. Sure, C-level or D-level celebs, but both were famous (for reasons that go beyond me) and therefore have that certain level of reality-star-show-in-the-making lifestyle that lends itself to women wanting them for the status that comes with celebrity, regardless of how many years past their prime they are. Yeah, Boooooy.

[Stacey is just a regular, beautiful, successful, twice-divorce, mother of four who sells real estate. So prior to the show, she was just anyone else in the dating pool. ]

So again, you'd never see that kind of show on the air without NOW and other feminist groups picketing, Oprah beguiling it, The View skewering it and so forth. Because it is kind of a sick way to find someone. Especially with that much pressure and differences in life. Is a 25-year-old who's used to going out on a moment's notice going to want to settle for a 40-year-old with four kids and a busy career? And be happy? Unlikely. Especially after their circuit of fame on the infotainment shows and all the eye-candy he'll be paraded by and introduced to.

Which goes back to my original statement of why I watch little but sports and selected series on my DVR. TV sucks.


Everyone's a twitterin' ...

But me.

I'm not against it. I'm just not into it.

But Ron Jeremy is. Well, part of him is.

Yep, the Hedgehog has a twitter.

And a blog.

Neither are safe for work. So you've been warned.


Catching up ...

Yeah, I know ... I've been busy.

Between a lot of on-call shifts at work and the hockey playoffs and other non-computer-related activities, I've not been writing much lately. Most of it comes down to too many hours in front of the computer while working ... there are days I just want to finish work and not look at screen the rest of the night.

So ... with that being said, here's a quick catch-up:
  • Album I wasn't expecting to like as much as I do: "Length of Arms" by the Receiver.

  • Album I was expecting to like more than I do: "21st Century Breakdown" by Green Day.

  • Question you're asking yourself: "Hey, that doesn't come out until next week, right?
    Answer: Not where I shop.

  • Movie I liked a whole lot more than I thought I would: Star Trek (IMAX Version)

  • DVD I liked a whole lot more than I thought I would: Caprica (BSG Prequel)

  • Drink that didn't do anything for me: Absinthe ... was like drinking mouthwash

  • Evil trick played on fellow diners during Cinco de Mayo ... after 15 minutes of a 90 minute wait ... claiming to be a party who's name was called four times ... and telling the hostess it really wasn't us, but she sat us anyway.

  • Random Graduation Congrats: Matthew, Adam, Mandy, Kylee (in order of when we met!)

  • New CD I'm anticipating: The Clarks - Restless Days.

  • Concert I have tickets for and CAN'T GO: Wilco, June 12, Cincinnati ... cause I'll be out of town training. (for $90, which is what I paid, they can be yours. Lemme know or I'm eBaying them. Hey, I just verbed. Again.)


Congrats, Blue Jackets, and Fans.

While I'm not a Blue Jackets fan, I have to say I am glad they made the NHL Stanley Cup Playoffs this season, even if it came at the expense of my Chicago Blackhawks, via a shoot-out victory.

Columbus is a town of front-runners and bandwagon fans for anything NOT wearing the scarlet and grey ... as most major cities are. The Blue Jackets have their die-hard fans, and they always will ... but when they're winning, it seems like everyone in Columbus is Carrying The Flag.

And good for them. Everyone loves you when you win.

Besides, Chicago's going to the playoffs, too, for the first time in 11 years, mainly because Bill Wirtz finally died and his smarter, less greedy son realized just how bad his father had run the franchise into the ground and alienated his fan base. And Chicago has fallen back in love with their Blackhawks.

Hopefully this playoff run, the first in the Blue Jacket's eight years in the NHL, will get the casual fans in Columbus to fall in love ... or back in love ... with their Blue Jackets ... and create a whole lot more true fans who come along with them ... to stay.

So, despite my team losing tonight, why am I glad for the Blue Jackets?

Simply this: It's good for hockey. It's good for Columbus. And it's good for my friend Tom Reed, who covers the Blue Jackets for the Columbus Dispatch.

Oh, and it's also good for all the businesses and other entities that make money of big crowds downtown, out in bars for games, and celebrating the joy that comes with the thrill of victory ... I'm happy for them, too.

So yeah, congrats, Blue Jackets. And congrats, Blue Jackets Fans. You may boo and hiss at me for wearing my Blackhawks gear ... but I'll always be a fan. I hope, someday, after 32 years of cheering on your Blue Jackets, you'll still be a fan of your team, too.


Kicked in the Ass by Mom

Mother Nature, that is.

So there's some stuff going on at work, nothing worth discussing except for changes to the on-call schedule that pretty much leave me working long hours (like most of my team), but being the guy on the firing line ... which I like.

Except, after a lovely 18-hour day, spent mainly sitting at my desk in front of my computer, I fall asleep, only to be kickd in the ass by Mother Nature.

Yep, it's April. That means April Showers. And, sometimes, as we had today, the occasional snow. Because sometimes, it snows in April, Christopher Tracy. (Obscure reference for both of you that a] read this, and b] get that. You're welcome.)

Oh, and for my people ... it's open season with the allergins.

I went to bed at 1:30 or so (hey, gotta watch my Comedy Central shows) only to wake up about an hour later and sneeze ... I'm guessing, and I might be using a loose estimate here ... I sneezed about thirteen billion times before I finally got a benedryl down my throat. (Okay, maybe it was only seven or eight ... but machine-gun style, they exponentially multiply. Wow. Now I've made a completely vague reference to stuff you'll never hear about [work], a math joke and randomly obscure pop culture reference. My work here is almost done.)

And the sleep for an hour / wake up sneezing for 10 minutes / sleep for an hour was the remainder of my night. Then the alarm at 7:50 and at work at 8. Cause I have such a long drive the days I work from home. Which, because I'm on call from 8 a.m. to Midnight all week, is every day this week.

And the weekend - even better. All weekend. Straight through. Happy Easter to me.

But I can't bitch. I have a job. I love my job. And I'm happy to have it.

Even when it sucks. And Mother Nature kicks me in the ass. The bitch.


It's back ....

Gastritis, that is.

I decided I was going to try to step up taking my vitamins ... especially the B-series. Turns out B-12 kinda doesn't agree with me. The B-6 is good, but the B-12 ... not so much. There's an enzyme that's apparently NOT in my stomach since the gastric bypass surgery five years ago that breaks down the B-12 in most people so it doesn't irritate the lining of the stomach. Me, not so much.

But at least I know what's causing the pain and vomiting I've had since Sunday. And, that it will stop in a day or two.

I also know I won't like the bill when it comes ... stupid health insurance doesn't start until April 1st, because I started the new job February 2nd ... the insurance starts on the first day of your second full month ... so because of one day ... I'm gonna be stuck paying the price for an ER visit.

But after two days of having a fire in my stomach, and that's well worth any price.


Kicked in the ass by Jesus

This was the text message I received last night while waiting for an old friend to show up for dinner last night:

"Are you having a margarita? If not, get the Jesus."

At the time, I was enjoying a nice frosted traditional margarita and decided to wait. When she showed up, she ordered the Jesus Margarita. It looked and tasted so much better than my traditional I had to have one.

Which became two.

Which is about when Jesus kicked my ass last night.

No, not *that guy* ... the Jesus Margarita at La Isla in Hermitage. After much discussion about what goes in them, it's a toss up between magic, heroin, or some really good tequila. I'm going with the really good tequila ... the gold stuff ... because damn.

Smooth and tasty. And strong.

Oh, and to the woman complaining that we were laughing too much and pushing back on the booth too hard and bothering her husband ... sorry you weren't having as much fun as we did.


Youngstown Dispatches, Part 1.

There is something ... I can't quite put my finger on it ... but "something" about the phrase "Hey, we're doing Irish Car Bombs" that just makes one a joiner.

And it's even better when you're not paying.

I'm just saying.


Song of the Day

U2 - Until The End Of The World

Haven't seen you for quite a while
I was down the hole just passing time
Last time we met was a low-lit room
We were as close together as a bride and groom
We ate the food, we drank the wine
Everybody having a good time
Except you
You were talking about the end of the world

I took the money
I spiked your drink
You miss too much these days if you stop to think
You lead me on with those innocent eyes
You know I love the element of surprise
In the garden I was playing the tart
I kissed your lips and broke your heart
You were acting like it was the end of the world


In my dream I was drowning my sorrows
But my sorrows, they learned to swim
Surrounding me, going down on me
Spilling over the brim
Waves of regret, waves of joy
I reached out for the one I tried to destroy
You, you said you'd wait till the end of the world.


Oh noes ... Gays married. Burn them.

Because there's OBVIOUSLY nothing wrong with America today ... Ken Starr has found himself another witchhunt ... he wants to invalidate the 18,000 same-sex weddings that happened with same-sex marriage was legal in California. Here's the details, and a petition you can sign:

Have you heard that Ken Starr -- and the Prop 8 Legal Defense Fund -- filed legal briefs defending the constitutionality of Prop 8 and attempting to forcibly divorce 18,000 same-sex couples that were married in California last year? The Supreme Court will hear oral arguments in this case on March 5, with a decision expected within 90 days.

The Courage Campaign has created a video called "Fidelity," with the permission of musician Regina Spektor, that puts a face to those 18,000 couples and all loving, committed couples seeking full equality under the law.

Please watch this heartbreaking video now. If you have the same reaction that I did, please help me spread the word by sharing it with your friends and family ASAP:


The more people who see this video, the more people will understand the pain caused by Prop 8 and Ken Starr's shameful legal proceeding.

After you watch the video, please join me and over 300,000 people who have signed a letter to the state Supreme Court, asking them to invalidate Prop 8 and reject Starr's case.


Song of the Day

Lonely Girl
~ Todd Snider

There you sit all by yourself
Trying to quit like everybody else
Cigarette smoke in your eyes
I see a few regrets in there too
Hey there lonely girl
Have I got a lonely boy for you

Like a sunny day somewhere else
The music plays but it don't help
Through the haze you roll your eyes
Every day I wonder what you see
Hey there lonely girl
I think you're the only girl for me

You're the only girl in this whole wide world
Only throw your pearls at me

Here I sit all by myself
Trying to quit something else
Cigarette smoke in my eyes
I've got a bunch of regrets too
Hey there lonely girl
Have I got a lonely boy for you

(I've been on quite the Todd Snider kick lately. That guy is great!)


Dear Glasstop Computer Desk ...

Why did you break?

What did I do?

I left yesterday at 8:30 a.m. you were fine.

I go downstairs to make coffee and hear a CRASH.

And you were gone.

And all the stuff you had on you is on the floor.


Now I have a ghetto desk.

(note to self. Friday evening, when you head out to buy a new computer desk, no glass top. Really.)


Dear Cincinnati Drivers

(rant mode = ON)


Maybe it's because I'm from the snow belt.

Maybe it's because I have a front-wheel drive vehicle.

Maybe it's because I'm not from Cincinnati. Yet.

But if three inches of snow makes a 15 mile trip take FOUR GOD DAMNED HOURS ON AN INTERSTATE ... maybe all you fuckers should just take the bus.

I entered Interstate 71 at mile marker 2 at 6:45 p.m. I hit the I-275/75 Split (mile marker17) at 10:48 p.m.. I got home to Columbus at 12:15 a.m. From Lebanon on, mile marker 32, I was back to highway speeds. While some would say that's because the snow didn't go that far south, I'm going to say it was because I was 15 miles north of Cincinnati.

Yeah, I know, the crack weather teams there along the shores with their millions of dollars of technology got owned by an overgrown rodent this week who correctly predicted six more weeks of winter while all that fancy equipment called for a dusting in the Queen City ...

But really ... for fucks sake ... learn how to drive in the snow. It's not hard. Really.

And FUCK ME SIDEWAYS ... but when your car dies in the midst of a full interstate highway system that's moving at the speed of snot, WHY DO YOU ABANDON IT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FUCKING HIGHWAY?


I saw SIX abandoned cars, covered in snow, sitting in either the middle or left lane. Empty. Fucking up the already cluster-fucked traffic.

I think I might kind of know the answer to that one ... when we're all creeping along the interstate at the speed of cold snot, WHY THE FUCK DO YOU NOT LET PEOPLE MERGE WHEN THEY CLEARLY SIGNAL THEIR INTENT BY USING TURN SIGNALS?

Is being 20 feet ahead of me going to get either one of us to our destination any faster? No.

Jebus, people. It's snow. We get some every year.

Please try to figure that the fuck out before I move down there and have to resort to chewing bubble gum and kicking ass.

Because I'm all out of bubble gum.

The Smile and the Nod ...

SUBTITLE: At least my life's not boring.

So on Sunday me and my (female) roomie went out to a local establishment here in the greater Columbus area to hang with her people, as she called them ... the Steeler Nation.

We hit the bar one of the local Steeler Backers club meets at for the Super Bowl ... after me making her go to BW3 all season for games, I told her she could pick where she wanted to go for the Super Bowl and we'd go.

And we did.

And it was good.

However ... just after kick-off I noticed an absurdly hot woman (in my still-sober mind) at the other end of the bar. When I walked by her heading to the used-beer return, I was smitten.


And really, for the record, there were a lot of really hot single women at this bar, wearing jerseys or tight-t-shirts professing their love for the black and gold. More single women than single men. Seriously.

After a few curious glances, I point my infatuation out to the roomie. She says, "Oh, the one sitting next to her girlfriend, the dyke?" I said, "Yeah, probably. Maybe they're just 'friend' friends."

Roomie, in her ever-so-dry-retort, says "Yeah. Good luck with that."

Second quarter ... I (eventually) get the bartender's attention, tell him her next one is on me. He says, "Dude. You're barking up the wrong tree. She's into the ladies. Seriously. Into. The. Ladies."

I looked up and said "Yeah, story of my life. But she's hot as balls, give her the beer anyway."

She thanked me. The smile and the nod.

So later, as I again visited the used-beer-return and admired her hotness on the way in ... she stopped me on the way out.

"Ya know ... I'm 100% lesbian, but thanks for the beer," she said.

"You're welcome," I said ... then added, "Nothing wrong with buying a beautiful woman a beer in a bar though. Can't blame a guy for trying, eh?"

She said, "Actually ... no. And I have to say you're what I'd go for if I had a single straight chromosome in my body."

My reply: "As Carl the Groundskeeper said, 'So, at least I got that much going for me'"

She roared in laughter. "I LOVE THAT MOVIE. I hope you find a night straight woman to make you happy."

My final parting comment, "Oh, I'd be happy with a bisexual one, too."

Yep, in a sports bar full of hot women, I managed to crush on the lesbian.

I got skills like that. Bitches be doubting, but I can prove it over, and over, and over again!


Song of the Day

"Fortress Around Your Heart"

Under the ruins of a walled city
Crumbling towers and beams of yellow light
No flags of truce, no cries of pity
The siege guns had been pounding all through the night
It took a day to build the city
We walked through its streets in the
As I returned across the lands I'd known
I recognized the fields where I'd once played
I had to stop in my tracks for fear
Of walking on the mines I'd laid

And if I built this fortress around your heart
Encircled you in trenches and barbed wire
Then let me build a bridge
For I cannot fill the chasm
And let me set the battlements on fire

Then I went off to fight some battle
That I'd invented inside my head
Away so long for years and years
You probably thought or even wished that I was dead
While the armies are all sleeping
Beneath the tattered flag we'd made
I had to stop in my track for fear
Of walking on the mines I'd laid

And if I built this fortress around your heart
Encircled you in trenches and barbed wire
Then let me build a bridge
For I cannot fill the chasm
And let me set the battlements on fire

This prison has now become your home
A sentence you seem prepared to pay
It took a day to build the city
As I returned across the lands I'd known
I recognized the fields where I'd once played
I had to stop in my tracks for fear
Of walking on the mines I'd laid

And if I built this fortress around your heart
Encircled you in trenches and barbed wire
Then let me build a bridge
For I cannot fill the chasm
And let me set the battlements on fire


Song of the Day

Hey, it's a repost. But it's a fucking great song. So suck it.

~ Aaron Tashjian

If I was lonely
And burned out slowly
Like a cigarette
Would you kiss me
Just to feel like someone else is there
I'm a liar
The devil in me is the honesty
It glows gently
Like a Christmas light
In a window square

My addictions and my haircut
And my tendency to rant and rave
And my good days and my bad ones
Where all I do is misbehave
Are racing through my bloodstream
With anxiousness and alcohol
And filling me with a false hope
And a chance to hold my head up tall

I could be joking
I must be lying to myself
And I'm in shambles
But now it's not for someone else

It's a long road
Back to your house
And I don't know what to do
I am weary
And I'm nervous
And I'm not sure of anything at all
But the silver beams
From the tv screen
Make you look just like
A movie star right now,

I could be joking
I must be lying to myself
And I'm in shambles
But now it's not for someone else

And my head
And my head
Is full of doubt

And my heart
And my heart
Is feeling down
I've been let down

And there's so much clutter
In my head,
Yeah there is so much clutter
In my head


Dear Arby's at Polaris

Fuck you.

No, seriously. Fuck. You.

I pull up, I order, I pay, I get food.

I get home. I try to eat food.

Sadly, the food sucked.

The sandwich was the driest, stringiest, toughest roast beef I've ever had. It made beef jerky appealing.

The potato cakes were double-cooked. How do I know this? They were dark brown, not golden brown, and dry as morning-after hangover mouth.

And the iced tea had no ice.

At least the Arby's sauce was good.

So, really ... Arby's at Polaris ... Fuck you. I won't be back. Ever.


Song of the Day

A Girl Called Eddy
"People Who Used To Dream About The Future"

Drinking our coffee
It's a quarter to three
No one in this place
Just us and our mistakes
You in the corner
That stupid smile
On your face
Tell me is there a way to replace
All the dreams
That didn't come true
Once we were happy

Once we were people
Who used to dream about the future
Once we were people
With stars in our eyes

Do you remember when I was your
'Alice blue gown'
And you were the handsome young
Prince in his crown
Now the rain hits the roof
And your realize
That even your youth
has let you down
Oh don't go cry in your beer
'Cause it all ends in tears
Remember when we were happy

Once we were people
Who used to dream about the future
Yeah, once we were people
With stars in our eyes

Once we were people
Who used to dream about the future

But where did it all go
Where did it all go
Where did it all go

When did we stop taking pictures
And when did you lose
all your fight
And where did you sign
Give up and resign
I never gave up on you
No, I never gave up on you

Once we were people
Who used to dream about the future
Once we were people
With stars in our eyes

Once we were people
Once we were people


Binge & Purge

I'm not an avid television watcher. I have a few select series that I follow. I try to sample one or two each year that catch my eye. Most don't make the cut, but every so often I add one.

Seriously ... outside of sports, the only shows I religiously follow are:
  • Battlestar Galactica, despite my initial desire NOT to.
  • LOST, which I got hooked on after watching the first season on DVD in one weekend before the start of Season 2.
  • Heroes, only because Kat told me I had to. And she was right.
  • 24, well, the first season, because the guy at Blockbuster said it rocked. And it did. But Season 2 lost me until this, the 7th season. Hey, it's good, again.
  • Fringe, because I like weird stuff and Walter ... ya never know what you're going to get when he talks.
  • Terminator: Sarah Connor Chronicles, again, because Kat said I should. And again, she was right.
  • Star Wars: The Clone Wars, cause I'm nerdy like that.
24 was added to the list when I started watching the new season this week. Fringe was added on Friday ... when i started watching the pilot that aired back in the fall. Cause I'm currently like that. Then I watched the other 10 episodes. So yeah, I spent my Friday watching 12 hours of Fringe.

I spent Monday getting caught up on Season 4 of Battlestar so I could watch the new episodes. Tuesday was 5 hours of 24; Wednesday was a mental reset and rebuild of my computer after the power supply died and took down a hard drive that rendered my Vista install invalid; Thursday was more 24 and MMA stuff, and Friday was all Fringed out.

All I have left now is Pushing Daisies, cause it looked interesting; The Big Bang Theory, because everyone says I have to, and I'm thinking about trying out Chuck ... oh, and my friend Lia let me borrow her copy of Mad Men, Season 1, to watch. I'm gonna get her hooked on Dead Like Me! Next on the list: Dexter, The IT Crowd and Generation Kill.

But yeah, my TV viewing has gotten a bit more caught up this week. Binge and purge, indeed.


Frakity-frak-frak ... BSG is back

So I'll start with this: There will be no spoilers in this blog about the return of Battlestar Galactica for the final 10 episodes.

I will say this: TOTAL. MINDFUCK.

There were times while I was watching it on the DVR that I stopped it. I had to let events sink in. I had to rewind to make sure I saw what I actually saw.


And once again, why it showed it's the best show on television. Period.

You've been warned.


My top music of 2008

Yeah, I'm two weeks late ... was still digesting some good tunage prior to making my announcements.

No rankings this year ... but my absolute album of the year is "Speaking In Cursive" by Two Cow Garage.

Eric's 2008 Top 20 Albums of National Acts:

  • Mirah - The Old Days Feeling
  • Metallica - Death Magnetic
  • Melvins - Nude With Boots
  • Kathleen Edwards - Asking For Flowers
  • James Morrison - Songs For you, Truth For Me
  • Fish - 13th Star
  • Deerhunter - Microcastle
  • Alejandro Escovedo - Real Animal
  • Madeline - Tickle Me Pink
  • Coldplay - Viva La Vida
  • Roy Davis & The Dreggs - Dead Weight
  • Victoria Vox - Chameleon
  • Tickle Me Pink - Madeline
  • Sara Bareilles - Little Voice (Special Edition)
  • Ron Sexsmith - Exit Stragety of the Soul
  • The Pretenders - Break Up The Concrete
  • Cat Power - Jukebox
  • Dar Williams - Promised Land
  • Dido - Safe Trip Home
  • Rebecca Lynn Howard - No Rules

Eric's 2008 Top 10 Albums From Columbus-based Acts:

  • Phantods - Phantods
  • Red Wanting Blue - These Magnificent Miles
  • Two Cow Garage - Speaking in Cursive
  • Aaron Tasjan - Hard Love and Free Luck
  • Miranda Sound - Miranda Sound
  • Ryan Smith - I Just Want To Feel That Way
  • Alyson Greenfield - Six Songs
  • Over The Rhine - Snow Angels
  • Pirate - 4041
  • The Kyle Sowashes - Yeah Buddy!


Astrology? Fuck off. Science!

Good thing I don't believe in astrology. From my Astrological Outlook from Yahoo:

From the quality of your cup of coffee, you already know you shouldn't expect a lot out of today. But don't get upset if things progress even less than you think they will. One day's failure does not mean that you will continue to underperform. The worst thing you can do is to lose heart and stop working towards this goal. You are where you need to be, so just clear your mind and try to accept the fact that you cannot control this timetable -- just yet. Let other people take the wheel for a while.

Why do I have that if I don't believe? Just rebuilt my machine and haven't quite gotten around to fixing up my yahoo homepage.

Why don't I believe in astrology?

From Http://www.weeklyuniverse.com/constellations.htm ... In Astrology: True Or False A Scientific Evaluation, Roger B. Culver and Philip A. Ianna wrote: "[T]he precession of the equinoxes has brought about the disconcerting and confusing result that the astrological signs of the zodiac, which are usually measured relative to the vernal equinox point, have become displaced with respect to the constellations for which they are named. For example, the dates in which the sun is said to be located in the astrological sign of Scorpio extend from October 24 to November 22. If we plot the sun's actual position on those dates, however, we find that it is not in the constellation of Scorpius, but is to the west in Virgo."

Why are the signs of the zodia being displaced? Because the universe is expanding. How do we know that?

Monty Python:

Just remember that you're standing on a planet that's evolving
And revolving at nine hundred miles an hour,
That's orbiting at nineteen miles a second, so it's reckoned,
A sun that is the source of all our power.
The sun and you and me and all the stars that we can see
Are moving at a million miles a day
In an outer spiral arm, at forty thousand miles an hour,
Of the galaxy we call the 'Milky Way'.
Our galaxy itself contains a hundred billion stars.
It's a hundred thousand light years side to side.
It bulges in the middle, sixteen thousand light years thick,
But out by us, it's just three thousand light years wide.
We're thirty thousand light years from galactic central point.
We go 'round every two hundred million years,
And our galaxy is only one of millions of billions
In this amazing and expanding universe.

The universe itself keeps on expanding and expanding
In all of the directions it can whizz
As fast as it can go, at the speed of light, you know,
Twelve million miles a minute, and that's the fastest speed there is.
So remember, when you're feeling very small and insecure,
How amazingly unlikely is your birth,
And pray that there's intelligent life somewhere up in space,
'Cause there's bugger all down here on Earth.


New Year, Old Stupidity

Why do some perfectly stupid people persist on perpetuating personal drama?

At least I do have some good news for the new year.

And, as always, the joy that is the regular listener-ship of "Coast To Coast With Art Bell" has given us their 2009 Predictions.