Continuing my tradition of bringing you the latest in absolutely random, useless crap, today's post is about a few things I dug up on Amazon. People review kooky items like a gallon of milk or Sheep magazine and the results are hilarious:
The Badonkadonk Land Cruiser Tank
Tuscan Whole Milk, 1 Gallon, 128 fl. oz.
The Relaxman Relaxation Capsule
Uranium Ore
Wedding Chapel - 10 x 18 With Wood Roof
Elk Carcass
UFO Detector
The Secret
Vaseline Uranium Opalescent Glass Rose Butter Dish (only one review, but it's quite good.)
I promise a real post is on its way real soon.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Monday, November 10, 2008
What a loser
I can't believe I haven't blogged in almost two months. Four, if you count my last real post.
Lame!
Lame!
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Never Get Ahead
The one, the only, Bobby Conn. They just don't make music like they did in the 90's.
Remember kids, "You're never gonna get ahead if you're givin' head to the man!"
Remember kids, "You're never gonna get ahead if you're givin' head to the man!"
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Just Jack!
Seems the thing to do this week is to post pictures of Brownie Town, aka Jackie Brown, aka my brand new nephew Jack. His mom's doing it, his other uncle's doing it, and now it's my turn.
Here's Jack wondering why so many people are taking pictures of him:
Here's Jack trying to swim away, wondering why it was so much easier in utero:
But that was tiring, so he's learning to deal with fame. Despite the paparazzi.
Here's Jack wondering why so many people are taking pictures of him:
Here's Jack trying to swim away, wondering why it was so much easier in utero:
But that was tiring, so he's learning to deal with fame. Despite the paparazzi.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
idea for a Battlestar Galactica spinoff
So the series ends after Season 4, right? Is that the deal?
I think they ought to consider what might happen after BSG ends. Like maybe they could have them arrive on Earth and try to assimilate to our wacky Earth ways and have a spin-off sitcom where Lee and Starbuck platonically move into an apartment next door to a bunch of kooky friends, and they have obvious chemistry but don't hook up until the third season, and all sorts of zany fish-out-of-water craziness happens, like when they have to fly on a regular airplane for the first time, or when they’re convinced one of their neighbors is a cylon when they’re really just Canadian, and they all decide to open a pizza place called Galactica Pizzeria, and of course the cylons really do find their way to Earth and open up a rival pizza place across the street, and hilarity ensues.
I think they ought to consider what might happen after BSG ends. Like maybe they could have them arrive on Earth and try to assimilate to our wacky Earth ways and have a spin-off sitcom where Lee and Starbuck platonically move into an apartment next door to a bunch of kooky friends, and they have obvious chemistry but don't hook up until the third season, and all sorts of zany fish-out-of-water craziness happens, like when they have to fly on a regular airplane for the first time, or when they’re convinced one of their neighbors is a cylon when they’re really just Canadian, and they all decide to open a pizza place called Galactica Pizzeria, and of course the cylons really do find their way to Earth and open up a rival pizza place across the street, and hilarity ensues.
the story of David Hasselhoff and the baby cuckoo's nest
In the spirit of American independence, I'd like to celebrate something even more American than fireworks, apple pie, and guns.
If you're a big fan like I am, you'll notice something interesting when you go to the Amazon site for his classic German greatest hits compilation entitled Looking For The Best. You'll see over a thousand five-star reviews in which enthusiastic writers pen outlandish, sycophantic odes to the Hoff and his music.
There are several recurring motifs in these reviews. First, the writer must attempt to misspell the Hoff's name in the most egregious way possible. Second, the review should conclude with the line, "Hot Shot City is particularly good."
So you can take a look at some of these reviews here.
My own entry is here.
On another note, in all seriousness, do yourself a favor and check out the music of Brad Paisley. James turned me on to him, and I've always despised country music, but the guy's really damn good. Witness: http://youtube.com/watch?v=8O3Plt8DyMk
Happy 4th, Mitch Buchanan! And God Bless America.
If you're a big fan like I am, you'll notice something interesting when you go to the Amazon site for his classic German greatest hits compilation entitled Looking For The Best. You'll see over a thousand five-star reviews in which enthusiastic writers pen outlandish, sycophantic odes to the Hoff and his music.
There are several recurring motifs in these reviews. First, the writer must attempt to misspell the Hoff's name in the most egregious way possible. Second, the review should conclude with the line, "Hot Shot City is particularly good."
So you can take a look at some of these reviews here.
My own entry is here.
On another note, in all seriousness, do yourself a favor and check out the music of Brad Paisley. James turned me on to him, and I've always despised country music, but the guy's really damn good. Witness: http://youtube.com/watch?v=8O3Plt8DyMk
Happy 4th, Mitch Buchanan! And God Bless America.
Friday, June 6, 2008
A few things to keep the lions at bay
I'm done posting Tinhole news for now. All I'll say is that after 2 months of official play, it's 50 wins for James and 60 wins for yours truly. I've been in the zone lately and whup his pale Irish ass regularly. Also, my web design classes have begun and we've purchased the rights to the www.tinhole.com domain name. Retirement, here we come.
In other news:
1. I'm an uncle!!! But I can't divulge any information until the baby mama does. So proud of her.
2. After 15 months of sleepless nights, gray hairs, endless notes, arguments, and eviction notices, the psycho meth addict neighbor upstairs is MOVING OUT AT THE END OF THE MONTH. Daddy bought her a house in the neighborhood and is letting the RISD architecture major redesign it herself. In the sage words of our landlord, "I feel sorry for the construction crew." Amen, brother!
2. The Big Apple BBQ is this weekend. Bought one of those FastPasses to avoid waiting in 35-minute lines. (Think my wife's claustrophobia has rubbed off on me.) The Salt Lick's gonna be there. If BBQ was the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, the Austin, Texas-based Salt Lick BBQ would be the Mormon Tabernacle. And I'd be in the choir.
4. The Sox/Rays are new new Sox/Yankees.
5. My dodgeball team, Gingerballs, came in 4th in the Brooklyn dodgeball league. No thanks to me, as I had to bow out after the first two games of the playoffs with a hyperextended elbow. Nothing quite says "you're old" like a dodgeball injury.
Otherwise, it's kind of a weird period. Married without children. It's fun, and we have all the benefits of living together with few responsibilites. But we're noticing how many babies there are in the world. There are a lot. And they all suddenly appear out of nowhere when it gets warm or when you get married. Now that we're married, and lots of our friends are either parents or pregnant or trying, and it's warm out, it's like a world of babies. There was this tiny kid in a stroller parked in front of me on the subway the other day, and the kid just stared at me for fifteen minutes, concentrating.
In other news:
1. I'm an uncle!!! But I can't divulge any information until the baby mama does. So proud of her.
2. After 15 months of sleepless nights, gray hairs, endless notes, arguments, and eviction notices, the psycho meth addict neighbor upstairs is MOVING OUT AT THE END OF THE MONTH. Daddy bought her a house in the neighborhood and is letting the RISD architecture major redesign it herself. In the sage words of our landlord, "I feel sorry for the construction crew." Amen, brother!
2. The Big Apple BBQ is this weekend. Bought one of those FastPasses to avoid waiting in 35-minute lines. (Think my wife's claustrophobia has rubbed off on me.) The Salt Lick's gonna be there. If BBQ was the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, the Austin, Texas-based Salt Lick BBQ would be the Mormon Tabernacle. And I'd be in the choir.
4. The Sox/Rays are new new Sox/Yankees.
5. My dodgeball team, Gingerballs, came in 4th in the Brooklyn dodgeball league. No thanks to me, as I had to bow out after the first two games of the playoffs with a hyperextended elbow. Nothing quite says "you're old" like a dodgeball injury.
Otherwise, it's kind of a weird period. Married without children. It's fun, and we have all the benefits of living together with few responsibilites. But we're noticing how many babies there are in the world. There are a lot. And they all suddenly appear out of nowhere when it gets warm or when you get married. Now that we're married, and lots of our friends are either parents or pregnant or trying, and it's warm out, it's like a world of babies. There was this tiny kid in a stroller parked in front of me on the subway the other day, and the kid just stared at me for fifteen minutes, concentrating.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
New Tin
5/1/08: J 6-5
21-17 M
21-6 J
21-16 J (T)
21-20 M
21-15 M
21-15 J
21-13 M
21-18 J
21-20 J
21-17 M (T)
21-20 J
5/5/08: J 3-2
21-18 J
21-18 J
21-14 M
21-18 J
21-16 M (TT)
5/6/08: J 6-3
21-16 M
21-14 M (T)
21-2 J (T)
21-12 J
21-6 J
21-14 J
21-20 J (T=M)
21-14 M
21-16 J
5/7/08: J 4-2
21-15 J (TT=M)
21-20 J (T)
21-13 J
21-20 J (T=M)
21-17 M
21-10 M
5/8/08:
21-4 J
21-2 M (T)
We recently constructed a new ball which has absolutely decimated my game. This evil tin orb is faster, more unpredictable, and too new, like an insolent teenager who says "like" too much. It bounces all over the place.
Both James and I are getting better at Tinholing, but I lose all my points when it careens off the table whenever I miss, which is all the time. Witness yesterday's stunning upset, for example, as I Tinhole twice consecutively and still manage to fold. He owns me with that goddamn ball! The games I've won are largely due to me substituting the new one with the old. Check out the difference this morning, for godsakes.
We introduced Mel and Manny to the game, and they're hooked. It's the office game of the future, it really is. You're about to see Tinhole highlights on ESPN by 2010, and we'll be rich, and I'll never have to step into an office again. That means no more Tinhole, but it's worth it.
21-17 M
21-6 J
21-16 J (T)
21-20 M
21-15 M
21-15 J
21-13 M
21-18 J
21-20 J
21-17 M (T)
21-20 J
5/5/08: J 3-2
21-18 J
21-18 J
21-14 M
21-18 J
21-16 M (TT)
5/6/08: J 6-3
21-16 M
21-14 M (T)
21-2 J (T)
21-12 J
21-6 J
21-14 J
21-20 J (T=M)
21-14 M
21-16 J
5/7/08: J 4-2
21-15 J (TT=M)
21-20 J (T)
21-13 J
21-20 J (T=M)
21-17 M
21-10 M
5/8/08:
21-4 J
21-2 M (T)
We recently constructed a new ball which has absolutely decimated my game. This evil tin orb is faster, more unpredictable, and too new, like an insolent teenager who says "like" too much. It bounces all over the place.
Both James and I are getting better at Tinholing, but I lose all my points when it careens off the table whenever I miss, which is all the time. Witness yesterday's stunning upset, for example, as I Tinhole twice consecutively and still manage to fold. He owns me with that goddamn ball! The games I've won are largely due to me substituting the new one with the old. Check out the difference this morning, for godsakes.
We introduced Mel and Manny to the game, and they're hooked. It's the office game of the future, it really is. You're about to see Tinhole highlights on ESPN by 2010, and we'll be rich, and I'll never have to step into an office again. That means no more Tinhole, but it's worth it.
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Scores
After the first 3 days of official Tinhole play, the scores look like this:
4/28/08: J 2-1
21-10 J
21-10 M
21-18 J
4/29/08: M 7-4
21-12 J
21-11 J
21-11 M
21-17 M
21-7 M
21-17 J
21-20 J
21-11 M
21-20 M
21-20 M
21-10 M
4/30/08: M 9-7
21-13 J
21-14 M (T)
21-4 M
21-16 J
21-11 J
21-18 J
21-20 M
21-8 M
21-8 M
21-15 M
21-8 J
21-13 M
21-20 J
21-19 J
21-20 M
21-12 M
Judging by the scores here, we appear to get more bored each successive day, and James is getting spanked like a redheaded stepchild. We decided to play 401-style, meaning you have to acquire exactly 21 points to win the game.
The "T" denotes a win with a successful Tinhole. We have also introduced the Tinhole Dance Rule Addendum, which specifies that whosoever accomplishes the feat must improvise a dance move while singing lyrics consisting of "Tinhole, bitch!"
So far, there has been only one.
4/28/08: J 2-1
21-10 J
21-10 M
21-18 J
4/29/08: M 7-4
21-12 J
21-11 J
21-11 M
21-17 M
21-7 M
21-17 J
21-20 J
21-11 M
21-20 M
21-20 M
21-10 M
4/30/08: M 9-7
21-13 J
21-14 M (T)
21-4 M
21-16 J
21-11 J
21-18 J
21-20 M
21-8 M
21-8 M
21-15 M
21-8 J
21-13 M
21-20 J
21-19 J
21-20 M
21-12 M
Judging by the scores here, we appear to get more bored each successive day, and James is getting spanked like a redheaded stepchild. We decided to play 401-style, meaning you have to acquire exactly 21 points to win the game.
The "T" denotes a win with a successful Tinhole. We have also introduced the Tinhole Dance Rule Addendum, which specifies that whosoever accomplishes the feat must improvise a dance move while singing lyrics consisting of "Tinhole, bitch!"
So far, there has been only one.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Tinhole
You work in an office, you get bored. That's how it is. So my buddy James and I invented a game to keep us from bagging it all and taking off in a Cadillac and going on a crime spree and running from the cops across Arizona and clasping hands and gunning it over the Grand Canyon. It's called Tinhole.
Brief Tinhole Rules:
1. Find a 10'x3' conference table with a cable hole in the middle measuring 1.75" in diameter
(ours looks like this:)
2. If no hole, drill one
3. Form a tightly packed ball of tinfoil measuring 1" in diameter, slightly larger for more challenging play
4. Two players, each sitting on either end of table -- no leaning
5. Remove random crap from table, wipe surface to a sheen. Take turns shooting ball across the table using the following point system, playing to 11 or 21 points, depending on slack time:
Tinhole Point System:
1 pt: shot across hole
2 pts: shot across hole causing bounce or trajectory adjustment
3 pts: shot across hole causing bounce or trajectory adjustment off table (2 pts. if caught by opponent before hitting the floor [without leaving chair])
5 pts: Tinhole (shot in hole; extremely difficult)
-2 pts: shot off side of table without hole interference
-2 pts: inability to receive opponent's shot when in range (between sides of table)
Rule Addendums:
1. To determine first player to shoot, each player attempts Tinhole. The player with the closest shot to the hole goes first, unless a player successfully Tinholes. Upon Tinholing, that player starts the game with 5 pts and the first shot. If there is a tie, each player shoots again until there is a tiebreaker. The winner of each game goes first in the next game.
2. Players cannot gain negative points. Missed saves are therefore null and void until that player accumulates at least 2 pts. The shooter misses his turn and the blocker shoots next.
3. If the ball caroms off a player’s hand, arm, or sleeve and drops to the floor while attempting a block, it counts as a missed save, regardless of the placement or range of the ball at the time.
4. The ball may never leave the table at any time unless a bounce is caused by the hole. Failure to abide by this rule will be corrected with a severe 2 pt. penalty.
Our discovery of Tinhole makes us very happy and keeps us coming back to the office every day. But we're thinking of bagging the job anyway and taking this on the road. Next stop Beijing.
Brief Tinhole Rules:
1. Find a 10'x3' conference table with a cable hole in the middle measuring 1.75" in diameter
(ours looks like this:)
2. If no hole, drill one
3. Form a tightly packed ball of tinfoil measuring 1" in diameter, slightly larger for more challenging play
4. Two players, each sitting on either end of table -- no leaning
5. Remove random crap from table, wipe surface to a sheen. Take turns shooting ball across the table using the following point system, playing to 11 or 21 points, depending on slack time:
Tinhole Point System:
1 pt: shot across hole
2 pts: shot across hole causing bounce or trajectory adjustment
3 pts: shot across hole causing bounce or trajectory adjustment off table (2 pts. if caught by opponent before hitting the floor [without leaving chair])
5 pts: Tinhole (shot in hole; extremely difficult)
-2 pts: shot off side of table without hole interference
-2 pts: inability to receive opponent's shot when in range (between sides of table)
Rule Addendums:
1. To determine first player to shoot, each player attempts Tinhole. The player with the closest shot to the hole goes first, unless a player successfully Tinholes. Upon Tinholing, that player starts the game with 5 pts and the first shot. If there is a tie, each player shoots again until there is a tiebreaker. The winner of each game goes first in the next game.
2. Players cannot gain negative points. Missed saves are therefore null and void until that player accumulates at least 2 pts. The shooter misses his turn and the blocker shoots next.
3. If the ball caroms off a player’s hand, arm, or sleeve and drops to the floor while attempting a block, it counts as a missed save, regardless of the placement or range of the ball at the time.
4. The ball may never leave the table at any time unless a bounce is caused by the hole. Failure to abide by this rule will be corrected with a severe 2 pt. penalty.
Our discovery of Tinhole makes us very happy and keeps us coming back to the office every day. But we're thinking of bagging the job anyway and taking this on the road. Next stop Beijing.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
A More Perfect Union
I come across these things too late - it's a week old - but you must watch this in its entirety, particularly if you're considering watching a rerun of America's Next Top Model instead. Whether or not you're voting for him, take a look.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Assimilation
1. I was on the train back home last night and there were a bunch of assholes at the 57th stop keeping the doors open for one of their friends for an obscenely long time (#5 in the "How to Be Rude on the Subway" photo below).
It went on for awhile, and of course the train can't leave when there's an idiot holding the doors open. They do this all the time, and everyone else on the train hates it and groans and mutters to themselves (the cardinal rule for commuters in NYC is to remain anonymous), and the train conductor usually yells at them through the speaker, never to any avail. But out of nowhere I screamed "GET OFF THE TRAIN!" and the one holding the door looked at me, stopped grinning, let the doors go, and got off the train.
2. Walking to work today, I came to the corner of 2nd and 70th and saw one of those huge industrial hampers on the corner amidst a pile of trash, and there were legs sticking out of the top of it. There was stuff piled in the hamper, so I couldn't see if the legs were attached to anyone. They had some Nikes on and white socks, and jeans. Definitely human legs. There was no smell, so I figured he wasn't dead. I walked on and forgot about it until just now.
Assimilation, baby!
It went on for awhile, and of course the train can't leave when there's an idiot holding the doors open. They do this all the time, and everyone else on the train hates it and groans and mutters to themselves (the cardinal rule for commuters in NYC is to remain anonymous), and the train conductor usually yells at them through the speaker, never to any avail. But out of nowhere I screamed "GET OFF THE TRAIN!" and the one holding the door looked at me, stopped grinning, let the doors go, and got off the train.
2. Walking to work today, I came to the corner of 2nd and 70th and saw one of those huge industrial hampers on the corner amidst a pile of trash, and there were legs sticking out of the top of it. There was stuff piled in the hamper, so I couldn't see if the legs were attached to anyone. They had some Nikes on and white socks, and jeans. Definitely human legs. There was no smell, so I figured he wasn't dead. I walked on and forgot about it until just now.
Assimilation, baby!
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
40/sushi
Drank a 40 for the first time in about 11 years last night. It was surprisingly refreshing. Probably because it wasn't genu-wine malt liquor, like King Cobra or Colt 45 or Crazy Horse or Ballantyne or Olde English or Mickey's or Ice Man:
It was Bud Light, which probably doesn't count. But it remained fresh for the hour and a half it took me to drink it, which runs counter to everything I remember about drinking 40s in the 90s. They were usually stale about halfway down, and if you gestured while drinking, completely undrinkable after 2/3rds. That didn't stop us.
Saw an old friend in San Francisco last week and it brought back some memories of the good ole days when we used to go up to Bobby's garage attic, drink 40s, play darts, and start trouble. One of the other regulars at The Cave, as it was called, was Kate, who wildly and coincidentally now lives about 3 blocks away from me in Brooklyn. We got together last night and decided it was time to revisit the concept of the 40. We ordered sushi and downed the heady brew and discovered, to our utter delight and amazement, that it pairs deliciously and quite perfectly with a spicy tuna roll.
I was going to wrap this post up with an insightful paragraph about the pairing of 40s and sushi and how it's an apt metaphor for the youthful abandon and tightly-wound responsibility of married life without children in NYC at age 33, but I couldn't pull it together. Sometimes 40/sushi is just 40/sushi.
It was Bud Light, which probably doesn't count. But it remained fresh for the hour and a half it took me to drink it, which runs counter to everything I remember about drinking 40s in the 90s. They were usually stale about halfway down, and if you gestured while drinking, completely undrinkable after 2/3rds. That didn't stop us.
Saw an old friend in San Francisco last week and it brought back some memories of the good ole days when we used to go up to Bobby's garage attic, drink 40s, play darts, and start trouble. One of the other regulars at The Cave, as it was called, was Kate, who wildly and coincidentally now lives about 3 blocks away from me in Brooklyn. We got together last night and decided it was time to revisit the concept of the 40. We ordered sushi and downed the heady brew and discovered, to our utter delight and amazement, that it pairs deliciously and quite perfectly with a spicy tuna roll.
I was going to wrap this post up with an insightful paragraph about the pairing of 40s and sushi and how it's an apt metaphor for the youthful abandon and tightly-wound responsibility of married life without children in NYC at age 33, but I couldn't pull it together. Sometimes 40/sushi is just 40/sushi.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Pick your candidate
Got this one from David Byrne's ever-fascinating blog:
http://www.dehp.net/candidate/index.php
It's a Pick Your Candidate site where you check off how you stand on two dozen issues. Based on your responses, it tells you which candidate you should go for. It also has a sliding scale showing you how insane the other candidates are.
Kucinich in '08!
Errr...
http://www.dehp.net/candidate/index.php
It's a Pick Your Candidate site where you check off how you stand on two dozen issues. Based on your responses, it tells you which candidate you should go for. It also has a sliding scale showing you how insane the other candidates are.
Kucinich in '08!
Errr...
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
The big letdown
I had the urge to get a huge oatmeal raisin cookie after lunch today.
When you haven't bought a cookie in about 14 years and you get one and it's a big, stale, tasteless piece of shit, you start to lose faith in the power of cookies to brighten up your day like they did when you were small.
When you haven't bought a cookie in about 14 years and you get one and it's a big, stale, tasteless piece of shit, you start to lose faith in the power of cookies to brighten up your day like they did when you were small.
Friday, January 18, 2008
Well okay then
My wife has a remarkable ability to forgive and forget. I come home last night and she's cooking in the kitchen. She turns around, says "Hi hon." and asks me how my day was.
She was more upset about me airing our dirty laundry than she was about anything else. Which means she'll probably be mad at me for writing about this also.
She was more upset about me airing our dirty laundry than she was about anything else. Which means she'll probably be mad at me for writing about this also.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
The Newlywed Glow
J and I had a gigantic blowout last night and this morning over a piece of furniture.
But not just any piece of furniture. Our brand new Crate & Barrel Harmony Media Console:
It is beautiful. It is expensive. It was a major pain in the ass to find, purchase, bring home, and install. And now, 4 hours after the long awaited homecoming, it is scratched. And my wife and I are not speaking.
It all started when we moved in together, almost three years ago, and she remarked that my floor-stand speakers had to go. They were huge and unsightly. Also, my TV stand was "bacheloresque." I didn't agree, but I did agree to getting a new one someday. So last week we were cruising Crate and Barrel and we came upon this lovely piece of walnut with sliding Chinese doors and a truly shocking price tag. But it was exactly what we were looking for, and we had some wedding funds left over.
We asked the guy at the counter if it was in stock. It was, so we decided to rent a Zipcar and bring it home. I reserved the car, picked it up, and got a call from J saying the guy was mixed up and that it wasn't actually in stock. We decided to take the car for a joyride anyway, since we had it for an hour and a half. It took us 45 minutes to get out of Manhattan, at which point it was time to return the car. Ridiculous. So we returned the car and decided to have it delivered.
After a series of phone calls spanning three days, we found that the delivery charge was $70 and J decided she'd go into work late one day to wait for delivery. But they couldn't promise us a delivery time, so I decided to have it delivered a few days later when I'd be working from home. Then my buddy Kevin offered to help us pick it up. Awesome.
So we picked it up, barely, in his tiny VW Golf, me scrunched up in front, and brought all 86 pounds of it home last night up three flights of stairs in one piece. Ecstasy.
I set about hooking up all of my various electronics with full digital 7.1 surround sound, over 175 feet of speaker wire and cable going every which way. J was not amused by the sheer mass of wires required for the job, and she was convinced there was a better way. Comparing the process to open heart surgery, I asked her to back off. She wouldn't. Things escalated.
Four hours later, everything was hooked up and we had to move our TV onto the new stand. The damn thing was so heavy that despite J's careful application of cardboard feet to the bottom, we managed to gently scrape it across the front of our beloved new dovetailed work of beauty. Neither one of us noticed, but J immediately tried to move my carefully placed front speakers and I freaked. She was sick of not being involved, so she left the room. That's when I noticed our fresh dents on the front. I freaked again. She was in the other room and declined to inspect the damage. We went to bed.
This morning, I decided that it was no big deal. People die every day, awful natural disasters strike, teenagers fail to make friends. Our problems were minor. But J did not share my optimism. We fought again. She blamed me for the scratches, I pointed out that there was a scratch on her end too, she said mine was worse, and I dropped the F bomb and walked out.
And that's where we are. I am now accepting advice and tips on the following:
1. making up
2. wiring speakers without using wire
3. repairing scratched furniture
4. marriage
Anyone?
But not just any piece of furniture. Our brand new Crate & Barrel Harmony Media Console:
It is beautiful. It is expensive. It was a major pain in the ass to find, purchase, bring home, and install. And now, 4 hours after the long awaited homecoming, it is scratched. And my wife and I are not speaking.
It all started when we moved in together, almost three years ago, and she remarked that my floor-stand speakers had to go. They were huge and unsightly. Also, my TV stand was "bacheloresque." I didn't agree, but I did agree to getting a new one someday. So last week we were cruising Crate and Barrel and we came upon this lovely piece of walnut with sliding Chinese doors and a truly shocking price tag. But it was exactly what we were looking for, and we had some wedding funds left over.
We asked the guy at the counter if it was in stock. It was, so we decided to rent a Zipcar and bring it home. I reserved the car, picked it up, and got a call from J saying the guy was mixed up and that it wasn't actually in stock. We decided to take the car for a joyride anyway, since we had it for an hour and a half. It took us 45 minutes to get out of Manhattan, at which point it was time to return the car. Ridiculous. So we returned the car and decided to have it delivered.
After a series of phone calls spanning three days, we found that the delivery charge was $70 and J decided she'd go into work late one day to wait for delivery. But they couldn't promise us a delivery time, so I decided to have it delivered a few days later when I'd be working from home. Then my buddy Kevin offered to help us pick it up. Awesome.
So we picked it up, barely, in his tiny VW Golf, me scrunched up in front, and brought all 86 pounds of it home last night up three flights of stairs in one piece. Ecstasy.
I set about hooking up all of my various electronics with full digital 7.1 surround sound, over 175 feet of speaker wire and cable going every which way. J was not amused by the sheer mass of wires required for the job, and she was convinced there was a better way. Comparing the process to open heart surgery, I asked her to back off. She wouldn't. Things escalated.
Four hours later, everything was hooked up and we had to move our TV onto the new stand. The damn thing was so heavy that despite J's careful application of cardboard feet to the bottom, we managed to gently scrape it across the front of our beloved new dovetailed work of beauty. Neither one of us noticed, but J immediately tried to move my carefully placed front speakers and I freaked. She was sick of not being involved, so she left the room. That's when I noticed our fresh dents on the front. I freaked again. She was in the other room and declined to inspect the damage. We went to bed.
This morning, I decided that it was no big deal. People die every day, awful natural disasters strike, teenagers fail to make friends. Our problems were minor. But J did not share my optimism. We fought again. She blamed me for the scratches, I pointed out that there was a scratch on her end too, she said mine was worse, and I dropped the F bomb and walked out.
And that's where we are. I am now accepting advice and tips on the following:
1. making up
2. wiring speakers without using wire
3. repairing scratched furniture
4. marriage
Anyone?
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Bud Selig is a world-class ass monkey, pt. 3
Bud thinks it's a good idea to take credit for blowing the whistle on steroids in major league baseball. Which is funny, since as the Commissioner of the MLB, he's the one who turned the other cheek as the profits and salaries ballooned...for 16 YEARS.
I personally don't care if baseball players take steroids or not, as long as they're not allowed to play in the MLB. If they want to shell out tens of millions to jacked up clowns like Bonds, McGwire, Sosa, Dykstra, et.al., that's awesome. Just put them on a traveling circuit like the WWF or whatever it's called these days. Give them colorful, skimpy spandex and baby oil, call it the American Gladiator League, and keep the syringes right in the dugout for between-inning pick me ups.
Actually, forget about the game altogether. Just set up a home run derby instead of the normal nine-inning business. Put guys like Bonds against journeyman hacks, and put Pettitte and Clemens on the mound against some skinny white guys who can't hit, like the equivalent of the Harlem Globetrotters against the team of stooges they always beat on purpose.
Or just give them huge duct-taped Nerf Q-tips, throw in some desperate-looking porn stars, call it "American Gladiators," and put it on Fox.
Or NBC.
I personally don't care if baseball players take steroids or not, as long as they're not allowed to play in the MLB. If they want to shell out tens of millions to jacked up clowns like Bonds, McGwire, Sosa, Dykstra, et.al., that's awesome. Just put them on a traveling circuit like the WWF or whatever it's called these days. Give them colorful, skimpy spandex and baby oil, call it the American Gladiator League, and keep the syringes right in the dugout for between-inning pick me ups.
Actually, forget about the game altogether. Just set up a home run derby instead of the normal nine-inning business. Put guys like Bonds against journeyman hacks, and put Pettitte and Clemens on the mound against some skinny white guys who can't hit, like the equivalent of the Harlem Globetrotters against the team of stooges they always beat on purpose.
Or just give them huge duct-taped Nerf Q-tips, throw in some desperate-looking porn stars, call it "American Gladiators," and put it on Fox.
Or NBC.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
iCan'tWait
MacWorld Keynote today. Last year Steve introduced the iPhone, so I'm not sure what to expect today.
The iBlog? i.e. something that can randomly generate the crap I usually write about without actually needing my help?
Or maybe the iSteve? A little automated Steve Jobs who could iBlog while making my life easier in other small ways like inventing programs such as iDoTheDishes, iPayTheRent and iKillTheUpstairsNeighbor?
Steve, don't let me down.
The iBlog? i.e. something that can randomly generate the crap I usually write about without actually needing my help?
Or maybe the iSteve? A little automated Steve Jobs who could iBlog while making my life easier in other small ways like inventing programs such as iDoTheDishes, iPayTheRent and iKillTheUpstairsNeighbor?
Steve, don't let me down.
Monday, January 14, 2008
Back from the dead
Hi, it's been a long time. Not much to report. Merry Christmas, Happy New Year.
I felt like rather than expose my faithful readers to a whole lot of nothing, I'd just expose them to an absence of nothing, which is really something.
It didn't work. People are annoyed. I can't blame them.
So for better or worse, I'll try to keep this thing updated. For the next two weeks anyway - J and I are headed to Hawaii for our long-delayed honeymoon on February 1st. Two weeks is just about right for a commitment-phobe like me.
Keep the faith.
I felt like rather than expose my faithful readers to a whole lot of nothing, I'd just expose them to an absence of nothing, which is really something.
It didn't work. People are annoyed. I can't blame them.
So for better or worse, I'll try to keep this thing updated. For the next two weeks anyway - J and I are headed to Hawaii for our long-delayed honeymoon on February 1st. Two weeks is just about right for a commitment-phobe like me.
Keep the faith.
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