The other thing that I meant to write about from Marine World was how delighted my five year-old daughter was to be 42 inches tall.
I haven't gotten any taller in about 20 years, so I've somewhat forgotten the joy of being able to reach new heights. When my physical dimensions change, it's generally a width or depth issue. No biggie though, I didn't really want to wear those old jeans anyway. They're not cool like these stiff new jeans. Mmmmm, crackly.
Anywho, 42 inches is an important height at Marine World. It allows her to ride many rides accompanied by an adult and a few others by herself. So, every time we got into a line, regardless of whether it was for a rollercoaster, or the merry go-round, she'd bound up to the measuring stick and see how tall she had become. This was cute the first dozen times.
This constant self-measuring is totally in-line with her personality. She's always gotten more satisfaction out of an activity if there was some sort of grade or measurement put on it. If she was outside playing with her hula hoop, then she wanted it to be hula hooping class. Bouncing a ball? I get to be the ball bouncing teacher. Honestly, there was a long period of time where we couldn't even get her to crap unless she got a gold star for it. Congratulations babe, you're a world class crapper.
One skill that I'm forced to give her an "F" on is whack-a-mole. For those of you who are unfamiliar with it, this is an amusement park game that you'd see alongside the ring toss, or tossing a baseball trying to knock down milk bottles. In whack-a-mole, however, you grasp a novelty mallet and stand in front of a counter with about 10 holes in it. Small mole-shaped figurines randomly pop out of the holes, one at a time, and you have about one second to slam down the mallet on their heads before the little cowards disappear back into the holes.
This is a great game for getting out your mole rage.
So, we spy the whack-a-mole game yesterday and this appeals to me because it's a game that my daughter can physically perform. You don't need great strength or pinpoint accuracy to nail one of these moles. Furthermore we were the only two playing and the mole guy informed us that there was a winner each time. So, it would be easy for me to play poorly and let her win a prize. So you'd think anyway.
The game starts and I lackadaisically pummel a few moles. I take it easy to ensure that she'll win. You have to whack 15 moles to win the game. I look over at her score and see that she has earned a whopping zero points so far. She appears to be bringing down the mallet just as each mole burrows back into its hole. When she does get there in time, the mallet seems to just gently rest on the mole's head. More of a mole petting than a mole whacking.
I spend some time aimless whacking the counter and give the guy running the game a sheepish smile. Meanwhile my daughter is grunting with effort, gingerly caressing the moles with her mallet, using all her might. Somehow, she scores a point.
At this point I give her a few tips and note that my mallet won't reach over to her counter. She's on her own. I keep slamming the counter while she sloooooowly accumulates points. 2....3....4..............
Seasons pass, glaciers melt, Haley's comet stops by for a few visits. Before you know it, BLAMMO, she's whacked her 15th mole. The lights flash and the whistle blows. My daughter, worn out from her herculean whacking, screams with glee when she realizes that she is the victor. She clutches her newly-won Tweety pillow with ferocious pride.
This is all a lot of words, but it comes down to this:
Mole whacking + crappy rides + cotton candy = fun
Marine World may be a crummy amusement park, but my daughter adored it. Wooo! Spring break
Thursday, March 31, 2005
Wednesday, March 30, 2005
Day Two of Spring Break was pretty uneventful. A fine day, but not really blogworthy.
Now, Day Three, that's a blog and a half, baby. Today we paid homage to the best day of last year's spring break by visiting Marine World. Thankfully, Marine World is so lame, that it can easily support the mocking of another blog entry. Bless you, half-hearted amusement park.
Once upon a time, Marine World was all about the marine animals: shows, exhibits, places to learn, etc. Obviously that was a big failure with the kids. What do kids like? They like to be hurled through the air, while viewing familiar characters and eating colored/misshapen sugar. So now Marine World is half animal shows and half crappy rides. It's frankenworld.
The worst part of the park is the kiddie section. In every possible way they attempt to suck all the joy out of the various go-around-in-a-circle kiddie rides.
First off, I can't decide if the majority of the employees there are child molesters, or merely common convicted felons who happen to possess that child-molester cachet. Either way, their presence adds a certain edge to the merry go-round.
Secondly, before allowing the children onto the ride, the ride attendents/molesters lecture the park guests about the various legal requirements of that particular ride, which always consist of height rules, keeping track of loose items such as syringes, and sarbanes-oxley specifications. The part about the height requirement usually goes something like this (NOTE, this next part is NOT a joke!):
"Any rider less than 36 inches in height must be accompanied by an adult who is greater than 54 inches in height. Riders between 36 inches and 54 inches in height may ride alone. Riders who are taller than 54 inches in height must be accompanied by a child less than 36 inches in height..."
Neither prison, nor their breakfast of Jack Daniels, prepared these poor amusement park employees to mumble such complex speeches correctly. Often we'd get to hear it twice.
The only time I heard an employee skip this speech was when my daughter went on a ride twice in a row. This ride was so tame and so boring that she went straight from the exit right to the front of the line and was the only kid on the ride. The park employee stared at her for a couple seconds, contemplating whether to perform her Marine World soliloquy and eventually said, "Well, I guess you're still the same height" and let her on.
Incidentally, my daughter is pretty timid about rides. The first time she went on this ride, the other kids literally had their heads in their hands with boredom. My daughter, however, beamed and screeched with glee. It was damn cute.
One of the other rides, the kiddie roller coaster (and I use that term loosely), was literally 20 seconds long. I timed it. The speech about height requirements was longer (and nearly as exciting). Plus, we got a bonus speech on that ride. As the ride attendant came by to make sure that we were properly strapped into our coaster, she leaned in close to my daughter and me, and improvised an inspirational speech about how I'd keep my daughter safe, and having my arm around her was the best seat belt, and that she'd slip into our house at night and kill us in our sleep. I may have day-dreamed that last part, but I don't think so. I was creeped out.
The best part of the day, however, was that we did actually make it out of the kiddie section and we enjoyed a couple of the big kid rides. My daughter screamed just like her mother does on these things. I was charmed.
Now, Day Three, that's a blog and a half, baby. Today we paid homage to the best day of last year's spring break by visiting Marine World. Thankfully, Marine World is so lame, that it can easily support the mocking of another blog entry. Bless you, half-hearted amusement park.
Once upon a time, Marine World was all about the marine animals: shows, exhibits, places to learn, etc. Obviously that was a big failure with the kids. What do kids like? They like to be hurled through the air, while viewing familiar characters and eating colored/misshapen sugar. So now Marine World is half animal shows and half crappy rides. It's frankenworld.
The worst part of the park is the kiddie section. In every possible way they attempt to suck all the joy out of the various go-around-in-a-circle kiddie rides.
First off, I can't decide if the majority of the employees there are child molesters, or merely common convicted felons who happen to possess that child-molester cachet. Either way, their presence adds a certain edge to the merry go-round.
Secondly, before allowing the children onto the ride, the ride attendents/molesters lecture the park guests about the various legal requirements of that particular ride, which always consist of height rules, keeping track of loose items such as syringes, and sarbanes-oxley specifications. The part about the height requirement usually goes something like this (NOTE, this next part is NOT a joke!):
"Any rider less than 36 inches in height must be accompanied by an adult who is greater than 54 inches in height. Riders between 36 inches and 54 inches in height may ride alone. Riders who are taller than 54 inches in height must be accompanied by a child less than 36 inches in height..."
Neither prison, nor their breakfast of Jack Daniels, prepared these poor amusement park employees to mumble such complex speeches correctly. Often we'd get to hear it twice.
The only time I heard an employee skip this speech was when my daughter went on a ride twice in a row. This ride was so tame and so boring that she went straight from the exit right to the front of the line and was the only kid on the ride. The park employee stared at her for a couple seconds, contemplating whether to perform her Marine World soliloquy and eventually said, "Well, I guess you're still the same height" and let her on.
Incidentally, my daughter is pretty timid about rides. The first time she went on this ride, the other kids literally had their heads in their hands with boredom. My daughter, however, beamed and screeched with glee. It was damn cute.
One of the other rides, the kiddie roller coaster (and I use that term loosely), was literally 20 seconds long. I timed it. The speech about height requirements was longer (and nearly as exciting). Plus, we got a bonus speech on that ride. As the ride attendant came by to make sure that we were properly strapped into our coaster, she leaned in close to my daughter and me, and improvised an inspirational speech about how I'd keep my daughter safe, and having my arm around her was the best seat belt, and that she'd slip into our house at night and kill us in our sleep. I may have day-dreamed that last part, but I don't think so. I was creeped out.
The best part of the day, however, was that we did actually make it out of the kiddie section and we enjoyed a couple of the big kid rides. My daughter screamed just like her mother does on these things. I was charmed.
Monday, March 28, 2005
Jesus, if I have to show my tits to one more drunk group of frat boys....
Yes, it's Day One of Spring Break here.
The morning commenced in fine Spring Break form. The daughter and I walked down to our local diner to load up on lard and sugar-filled treats. Four out of five hung-over college students recommend lard and sugar-filled treats as a nutritious start to a day of debauchery. That fifth guy? Vegan dentist. We hates him.
When we left the house, it was sunny out. Less than an hour later, when we were returning from our breafkast, it was raining and I was without jacket. So, we walked home in the rain, while I kicked off Spring Break with my very own wet shirt competition. I totally won.
Afterwards, we spent the rest of the day at the Lawrence Hall of Science in Berkeley. This wholesome destination entertained us more than adequately. Maybe they should put that on their brochure. The highlight of the trip for me was when my daughter had to go to the restroom and I didn't have to go with her. Normally she requires adult assistance in a public bathroom, but she's well-versed in the nastiness of men's rooms, and chose instead to handle the task by herself in the always-charming ladies room.
My little baby girl, old enough now to spare us the horror of the men's bathroom. That's tear-sheddable. She's all growed up!
We did actually have a lovely day at the science museum. Bring it on, Day Two. I'm rolling.
Yes, it's Day One of Spring Break here.
The morning commenced in fine Spring Break form. The daughter and I walked down to our local diner to load up on lard and sugar-filled treats. Four out of five hung-over college students recommend lard and sugar-filled treats as a nutritious start to a day of debauchery. That fifth guy? Vegan dentist. We hates him.
When we left the house, it was sunny out. Less than an hour later, when we were returning from our breafkast, it was raining and I was without jacket. So, we walked home in the rain, while I kicked off Spring Break with my very own wet shirt competition. I totally won.
Afterwards, we spent the rest of the day at the Lawrence Hall of Science in Berkeley. This wholesome destination entertained us more than adequately. Maybe they should put that on their brochure. The highlight of the trip for me was when my daughter had to go to the restroom and I didn't have to go with her. Normally she requires adult assistance in a public bathroom, but she's well-versed in the nastiness of men's rooms, and chose instead to handle the task by herself in the always-charming ladies room.
My little baby girl, old enough now to spare us the horror of the men's bathroom. That's tear-sheddable. She's all growed up!
We did actually have a lovely day at the science museum. Bring it on, Day Two. I'm rolling.
Saturday, March 26, 2005
At 5:30pm on Friday, I quit working and came downstairs into the kitchen. My daughter was sitting at the table eating an early dinner. My wife was puttering around.
I slowly raised my arms above my head and carefully screamed, "SPRING BREAK! WOOOOOO!"
My daughter paused from her dinner to stare at me. My wife ignored me entirely. She knows not to encourage me.
With my arms still raised, I repeated my thoughtful sentiment, "WOOOOOOOOOO! SPRING BREAK, TWO-THOUSAND-FIVE! WOOOOOO!"
My daughter eyed me carefully. Her interest was piqued. My wife continued to putter.
Undeterred, I cried out again, "SPRIIIIING BREAK! WOOOOOOHOOOOOOOO!"
It took.
My wife reluctantly raised her arms in the air and emitted a semi-enthusiastic, "Spring Break!". My wide-eyed daughter carefully put down her fork, raised her arms, opened her broccoli-and-carrot-filled mouth, and let out a screechy and high-pitched "Woooooooooooohooooooooooooo!". In an approving nod from the gods, no vegetables tumbled from her mouth.
And so, with much fanfare, Spring Break 2005 began in our household. This upcoming week, my daughter's school is closed, and so I will be in charge of keeping her entertained/alive. The former is my forte.
I'm off to assemble the sippy cup bong. See ya
I slowly raised my arms above my head and carefully screamed, "SPRING BREAK! WOOOOOO!"
My daughter paused from her dinner to stare at me. My wife ignored me entirely. She knows not to encourage me.
With my arms still raised, I repeated my thoughtful sentiment, "WOOOOOOOOOO! SPRING BREAK, TWO-THOUSAND-FIVE! WOOOOOO!"
My daughter eyed me carefully. Her interest was piqued. My wife continued to putter.
Undeterred, I cried out again, "SPRIIIIING BREAK! WOOOOOOHOOOOOOOO!"
It took.
My wife reluctantly raised her arms in the air and emitted a semi-enthusiastic, "Spring Break!". My wide-eyed daughter carefully put down her fork, raised her arms, opened her broccoli-and-carrot-filled mouth, and let out a screechy and high-pitched "Woooooooooooohooooooooooooo!". In an approving nod from the gods, no vegetables tumbled from her mouth.
And so, with much fanfare, Spring Break 2005 began in our household. This upcoming week, my daughter's school is closed, and so I will be in charge of keeping her entertained/alive. The former is my forte.
I'm off to assemble the sippy cup bong. See ya
Thursday, March 24, 2005
We had an architect come through our home yesterday, measuring all our nooks and crannies, in anticipation of adding a room to the house. I was my usual charming, unshowered, and lecherous self. It all went well.
Afterwards, when the wife, kid, and I were having dinner, the wife suddenly said, "I have something for you to do. I'll tell you about it later."
Whenever my wife says that she'll tell me something later, it's always bad news. Usually it's because I've committed some sort of marriage foul and deserve a severe tongue-lashing (the bad kind). Sometimes it's because of some upcoming trauma for our daughter that is best mentioned out of kid-earshot. Either way, I'm forced to sit through dinner, all the while dreading the bad news/lecture.
Anyway, after dinner, my wife pulled me aside and informed me that the architect saw a black widow spider in our garage.
I recognized this moment.
I've read about moments like this in books and seen them in movies. This is where a man shows his worth. Moments like this don't come by very often, especially to computer programmers. Nearly 24 years after my bar mitzah, I was being asked to prove my manhood. Would I step forward or weep like a little bitch (no offense to the ladies (even the bitchy ones (no, I'm not talking about you))) ?
"Show me where!" I boldly squeaked to my wife.
She led me to the garage. "The architect said she saw the spider come out from behind that ladder, it rushed at her, because black widow spiders are very aggressive, and then it hid in that wood pile there", my wife said, pointing to a small pile of leftover wood. I instructed my wife to return to the safety of the house, and I began to look around the garage for a weapon, suitably deadly for such a dangerous foe.
Squish it with my shoe? No, I wasn't wearing socks. Black widow spiders can sense these vulnerabilities. Undoutedly he would leap into my shoe at the last second, and feast upon my dainty toes.
Broom? No, I envisioned the spider getting caught in the bristles, and then I'd have to shake out the broom, and then the spider would fly into my eye, releasing its poisonous venom into my tender retina.
Sledge hammer? No, I'd probably end up sledgehammering my dainty toes.
In the end I went with the deadly weapon known as the recycling bin. Once I spotted the spider, I'd slam that bin right on him. BLAMMO! Heh, easy pickins. I was a born hunter. I began fantasizing about action hero catch phrases I could yell.
"You've been recycled!"
"I am the widower-maker!"
"Ewwwww!"
With the recycling bin in one hand, I began to poke at the wood pile with a long metal pole. After moving at each piece of wood, I'd involuntarily make a manly little hop of fear. It was kind of an intimidation dance. Piece after piece of wood got removed from the pile and still my crafty nemesis remained hidden.
Finally, as I poked at the last piece of wood, a tiny black spider crawled/jumped towards me. I sprang into action, slamming the recycling bin of death down onto his inch-long body. Wracked with rage, I just barely stopped from mercilessly bludgeoning him over and over. It was nearly one of those scenes where one guy, maybe a cop, starts by defending himself, and then loses all self-control, beating his opponent to death, only stopping when his partner drags him off and says, "He's dead."
Nearly one of those scenes, I tell you.
Anyway, I poked a bit at the smooshed spider and I didn't see any red dot. I don't think it was a black widow. Definitely black though. And definitely smooshed. I scooped him up in a paper towel and threw him away so that my daughter would never have to see such carnage in her own garage.
And that, my friends, is how it's done (assuming by "it" we're all referring to the timid slaughter of a tiny spider). Yeeeeah.
Afterwards, when the wife, kid, and I were having dinner, the wife suddenly said, "I have something for you to do. I'll tell you about it later."
Whenever my wife says that she'll tell me something later, it's always bad news. Usually it's because I've committed some sort of marriage foul and deserve a severe tongue-lashing (the bad kind). Sometimes it's because of some upcoming trauma for our daughter that is best mentioned out of kid-earshot. Either way, I'm forced to sit through dinner, all the while dreading the bad news/lecture.
Anyway, after dinner, my wife pulled me aside and informed me that the architect saw a black widow spider in our garage.
I recognized this moment.
I've read about moments like this in books and seen them in movies. This is where a man shows his worth. Moments like this don't come by very often, especially to computer programmers. Nearly 24 years after my bar mitzah, I was being asked to prove my manhood. Would I step forward or weep like a little bitch (no offense to the ladies (even the bitchy ones (no, I'm not talking about you))) ?
"Show me where!" I boldly squeaked to my wife.
She led me to the garage. "The architect said she saw the spider come out from behind that ladder, it rushed at her, because black widow spiders are very aggressive, and then it hid in that wood pile there", my wife said, pointing to a small pile of leftover wood. I instructed my wife to return to the safety of the house, and I began to look around the garage for a weapon, suitably deadly for such a dangerous foe.
Squish it with my shoe? No, I wasn't wearing socks. Black widow spiders can sense these vulnerabilities. Undoutedly he would leap into my shoe at the last second, and feast upon my dainty toes.
Broom? No, I envisioned the spider getting caught in the bristles, and then I'd have to shake out the broom, and then the spider would fly into my eye, releasing its poisonous venom into my tender retina.
Sledge hammer? No, I'd probably end up sledgehammering my dainty toes.
In the end I went with the deadly weapon known as the recycling bin. Once I spotted the spider, I'd slam that bin right on him. BLAMMO! Heh, easy pickins. I was a born hunter. I began fantasizing about action hero catch phrases I could yell.
"You've been recycled!"
"I am the widower-maker!"
"Ewwwww!"
With the recycling bin in one hand, I began to poke at the wood pile with a long metal pole. After moving at each piece of wood, I'd involuntarily make a manly little hop of fear. It was kind of an intimidation dance. Piece after piece of wood got removed from the pile and still my crafty nemesis remained hidden.
Finally, as I poked at the last piece of wood, a tiny black spider crawled/jumped towards me. I sprang into action, slamming the recycling bin of death down onto his inch-long body. Wracked with rage, I just barely stopped from mercilessly bludgeoning him over and over. It was nearly one of those scenes where one guy, maybe a cop, starts by defending himself, and then loses all self-control, beating his opponent to death, only stopping when his partner drags him off and says, "He's dead."
Nearly one of those scenes, I tell you.
Anyway, I poked a bit at the smooshed spider and I didn't see any red dot. I don't think it was a black widow. Definitely black though. And definitely smooshed. I scooped him up in a paper towel and threw him away so that my daughter would never have to see such carnage in her own garage.
And that, my friends, is how it's done (assuming by "it" we're all referring to the timid slaughter of a tiny spider). Yeeeeah.
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
Looks like this week of blog entries is really just one unending story.
So, after I bought my wife her regular, super maxi, with wings, mochacchino feminine hygiene products, I drove back home with the loot in tow. While my wife and daughter were hanging out in the living room, I started putting the groceries away in the adjacent kitchen.
"Hey babe," I said, "I bought your tampons."
"Thanks"
"Geez, what's with all those crazy sizes?" I riffed, realizing that this was the potential beginning of an oh-so-hilarious blog entry. "I mean, maxi, super, jumbo. Ha ha! It's crazy!"
"Uh huh."
"I eventually bought the one that had most of the words that you put on the shopping list."
"Ok."
"Those tampons boxes are pretty crazy though. Ha ha!"
"Ok!"
I then put away the rest of the groceries, mumbling about tampons, completely oblivious to the fact that my wife had kept up her end of the conversation using only grunts and one-word replies. She accosted me hours later.
"Don't talk about tampons around the kid!!" she stage-whispered to me.
"Huh?" I parried.
"Look, unless YOU want to explain menstruation to a five year-old, I suggest that you don't discuss my tampons around her. I was hoping to put off that discussion for a little longer."
"Ohhhh! Gotcha!"
Apparently there is no aspect of menstruation that I'm good at. Not the shopping, or the discussing, or even the vaginal bleeding. It's a failure I can live with though.
So, after I bought my wife her regular, super maxi, with wings, mochacchino feminine hygiene products, I drove back home with the loot in tow. While my wife and daughter were hanging out in the living room, I started putting the groceries away in the adjacent kitchen.
"Hey babe," I said, "I bought your tampons."
"Thanks"
"Geez, what's with all those crazy sizes?" I riffed, realizing that this was the potential beginning of an oh-so-hilarious blog entry. "I mean, maxi, super, jumbo. Ha ha! It's crazy!"
"Uh huh."
"I eventually bought the one that had most of the words that you put on the shopping list."
"Ok."
"Those tampons boxes are pretty crazy though. Ha ha!"
"Ok!"
I then put away the rest of the groceries, mumbling about tampons, completely oblivious to the fact that my wife had kept up her end of the conversation using only grunts and one-word replies. She accosted me hours later.
"Don't talk about tampons around the kid!!" she stage-whispered to me.
"Huh?" I parried.
"Look, unless YOU want to explain menstruation to a five year-old, I suggest that you don't discuss my tampons around her. I was hoping to put off that discussion for a little longer."
"Ohhhh! Gotcha!"
Apparently there is no aspect of menstruation that I'm good at. Not the shopping, or the discussing, or even the vaginal bleeding. It's a failure I can live with though.
Monday, March 21, 2005
Apparently mowing the weeds was the most exciting thing that has happened to me in days because I have more to say on the topic. Stand back.
So, yesterday, I go into the backyard to mow the weeds, which should take all of 4 minutes with our tiny lawn. As soon as I get the lawnmower fired up, our neighbor pops her head over the fence and asks if I can hold off mowing the lawn for 10 minutes. She explains that they're about to hold a tree-planting ceremony for their infant son.
It's times like these when I realize that I have little in common with these other hu-man things that populate our planet. But, these neighbors are darn nice folks, so I refrained from asking why the child or the tree required a ceremony. I'm a guy who got married in Vegas, so I think it's safe to say that I'm not an expert on ceremony.
(When I told one of my co-workers this story, he replied with "A tree planting ceremony? That's nice. What did they give birth to, a squirrel?")
So, I puttered around the yard for the next 15 minutes, waiting for the arbor gods to bless their kid, when the next logical thing happened. It started to pour. I can only assume that this is how Mother Nature responds to rituals like this. It's probably more of a blessing than a curse, but I'm steering clear of the kid for a while regardless.
I had, however, mentally committed myself to mowing the damn lawn. It had been 4 or 5 months since I last mowed and I was not going to let a simple downpour stop me.
So, here's where it gets stupid. Not only am I standing in the pouring rain, attempting to mow weeds, but I'm using an electric mower. I have a 50 foot extension cord running from the living room, onto the deck, down the stairs, through the wet lawn, ending in my lawnmower plug, a couple inches from my hands. This is the gardening equivalent of making toast while bathing.
I wish for this blog's sake, that this blog entry ended with a hilarious electrocution. Maybe a lightning bolt comes down, striking the newly-planted tree and me in one fell punchline-generating swoop. They say that tragedy plus distance equals humor. Sadly, for you all, this does not occur. Instead, I completed mowing the oxalis without humorous injury. *sniff*
The injuries nearly happened later that day, but it was my psyche in danger this time. I had to go buy feminine hygiene products for the wife. The differences between these items is tragically unclear. What's bigger, super or maxi? Are wings important? Which of these will restore my masculinity?
Thankfully the wife had given me detailed instructions and I made it out alive. That's two close calls in one day.
I didn't leave the house all day today.
So, yesterday, I go into the backyard to mow the weeds, which should take all of 4 minutes with our tiny lawn. As soon as I get the lawnmower fired up, our neighbor pops her head over the fence and asks if I can hold off mowing the lawn for 10 minutes. She explains that they're about to hold a tree-planting ceremony for their infant son.
It's times like these when I realize that I have little in common with these other hu-man things that populate our planet. But, these neighbors are darn nice folks, so I refrained from asking why the child or the tree required a ceremony. I'm a guy who got married in Vegas, so I think it's safe to say that I'm not an expert on ceremony.
(When I told one of my co-workers this story, he replied with "A tree planting ceremony? That's nice. What did they give birth to, a squirrel?")
So, I puttered around the yard for the next 15 minutes, waiting for the arbor gods to bless their kid, when the next logical thing happened. It started to pour. I can only assume that this is how Mother Nature responds to rituals like this. It's probably more of a blessing than a curse, but I'm steering clear of the kid for a while regardless.
I had, however, mentally committed myself to mowing the damn lawn. It had been 4 or 5 months since I last mowed and I was not going to let a simple downpour stop me.
So, here's where it gets stupid. Not only am I standing in the pouring rain, attempting to mow weeds, but I'm using an electric mower. I have a 50 foot extension cord running from the living room, onto the deck, down the stairs, through the wet lawn, ending in my lawnmower plug, a couple inches from my hands. This is the gardening equivalent of making toast while bathing.
I wish for this blog's sake, that this blog entry ended with a hilarious electrocution. Maybe a lightning bolt comes down, striking the newly-planted tree and me in one fell punchline-generating swoop. They say that tragedy plus distance equals humor. Sadly, for you all, this does not occur. Instead, I completed mowing the oxalis without humorous injury. *sniff*
The injuries nearly happened later that day, but it was my psyche in danger this time. I had to go buy feminine hygiene products for the wife. The differences between these items is tragically unclear. What's bigger, super or maxi? Are wings important? Which of these will restore my masculinity?
Thankfully the wife had given me detailed instructions and I made it out alive. That's two close calls in one day.
I didn't leave the house all day today.
Sunday, March 20, 2005
I mowed the weeds today.
When we had our backyard planted a few years ago, the landscaper noticed that throughout our backyard dirt, thousands of tiny oxalis pods lurked. Each of these insidious pods packed enough evil weed mojo to give nightmares to any conscientious home-owner. For a lazy bastard such as myself, it's the kiss of death to the hapless plants whose only crime was being placed into my backyard.
The landscaper tried to warn me. He pulled me aside on his way out, and spoke in hushed and reverent tones about the potential destruction that lay mere inches under our newly-planted lawn. I didn't pay much attention but certain phrases did stick in my mind:
"Don't let it get out of control!"
"...end of humanity as we know it..."
"Take the ring to Mordor!"
Naturally, I ignored this advice. A few months went by and nothing bad happened. I realized that he had been exaggerating the danger of this clover-like weed, and I re-settled back into complacency, comfortable complacency.
Oxalis, as it turns out, blooms in the wet months. So, around late fall, it arrived. It quickly spread throughout our backyard, soon becoming the dominant plant. Ignoring this threat became much more difficult, but I did not get where I am today by being easily deterred. I stuck to my plan of measured laziness and complete apathy with a dogged determination. My perseverance was rewarded in late spring when the rains ceased and the oxalis died off. Of course large chunks of the lawn were now also dead, having been choked out by the ominpresent weeds for several months.
The next few winters I fought the oxalis. There's no weed killer you can spray on it that won't kill the other plants, so I was forced to get down on the ground for hours at a time, and carefully pull each evil sprout. It was time-consuming and futile work, since generally when I pulled the sprout, the pod would remain underground, ready to do battle another day.
This year I gave up again. So, I mowed the weeds. I look foward to new and exciting dead patches in my lawn this spring.
This reminds me of the battle my high school english teacher once fought with a persnickety zit on his face. One day, he just shaved the bastard off. Mr. Friss, I'm with you in spirit.
When we had our backyard planted a few years ago, the landscaper noticed that throughout our backyard dirt, thousands of tiny oxalis pods lurked. Each of these insidious pods packed enough evil weed mojo to give nightmares to any conscientious home-owner. For a lazy bastard such as myself, it's the kiss of death to the hapless plants whose only crime was being placed into my backyard.
The landscaper tried to warn me. He pulled me aside on his way out, and spoke in hushed and reverent tones about the potential destruction that lay mere inches under our newly-planted lawn. I didn't pay much attention but certain phrases did stick in my mind:
"Don't let it get out of control!"
"...end of humanity as we know it..."
"Take the ring to Mordor!"
Naturally, I ignored this advice. A few months went by and nothing bad happened. I realized that he had been exaggerating the danger of this clover-like weed, and I re-settled back into complacency, comfortable complacency.
Oxalis, as it turns out, blooms in the wet months. So, around late fall, it arrived. It quickly spread throughout our backyard, soon becoming the dominant plant. Ignoring this threat became much more difficult, but I did not get where I am today by being easily deterred. I stuck to my plan of measured laziness and complete apathy with a dogged determination. My perseverance was rewarded in late spring when the rains ceased and the oxalis died off. Of course large chunks of the lawn were now also dead, having been choked out by the ominpresent weeds for several months.
The next few winters I fought the oxalis. There's no weed killer you can spray on it that won't kill the other plants, so I was forced to get down on the ground for hours at a time, and carefully pull each evil sprout. It was time-consuming and futile work, since generally when I pulled the sprout, the pod would remain underground, ready to do battle another day.
This year I gave up again. So, I mowed the weeds. I look foward to new and exciting dead patches in my lawn this spring.
This reminds me of the battle my high school english teacher once fought with a persnickety zit on his face. One day, he just shaved the bastard off. Mr. Friss, I'm with you in spirit.
Friday, March 18, 2005
I'll be the first to admit that I'm not a gourmet cook. Back when I was a bachelor living by myself, I had a one-pot rule. (Incidentally, the "One China" policy, currently espoused by mainland China, was based on my one-pot rule. Long story.) I wouldn't cook anything that required dirtying more than one pot. Ideally the food would be eaten in the same dish it was cooked in. Hence, I microwaved a lot of dinners.
I recall that my favorite recipe back then was this:
1) Open can of Chef Boyardee Ravioli
2) Dump can contents into microwavable bowl
3) Add a couple squirts of Tabasco sauce
4) Stir
5) Microwave
Yes, I was the one who invented that. Any fool can eat Chef Boyardee, but the genius is in the Tabasco. Sometimes, I even impress myself.
Anyway, I mention this because I've outdone myself AGAIN, and I'd like to present my latest culinary masterpiece.
1) Have wife make popcorn
2) Add salt to popcorn
3) Add pepper to popcorn
Yes, pepper! The pepper adds essential deliciousness to the popcorn. I urge you all to try this.
Happy Friday.
I recall that my favorite recipe back then was this:
1) Open can of Chef Boyardee Ravioli
2) Dump can contents into microwavable bowl
3) Add a couple squirts of Tabasco sauce
4) Stir
5) Microwave
Yes, I was the one who invented that. Any fool can eat Chef Boyardee, but the genius is in the Tabasco. Sometimes, I even impress myself.
Anyway, I mention this because I've outdone myself AGAIN, and I'd like to present my latest culinary masterpiece.
1) Have wife make popcorn
2) Add salt to popcorn
3) Add pepper to popcorn
Yes, pepper! The pepper adds essential deliciousness to the popcorn. I urge you all to try this.
Happy Friday.
Thursday, March 17, 2005
Today, I am proud to present a very special edition of I Am Prepared to Give Up at Any Time. As a means of giving back to the blogosphere, I am pleased to offer a lesson in Scrabble. For those of you who doubted my coolness, behold....
I won't go over the rules, because that would bore me. Instead we'll cover basic strategies and things to study. If you learn these lessons well, you'll be a decent tournament-calibre player.
Lesson #1 - Memorize the two-letter word list
Memorizing word lists is excruciatingly boring. It changes the game from something fun into a chore. That being said, this list is a great one and is worth your time if you have any interest whatsoever in winning Scrabble games. And, honestly, who doesn't?
So, here's the list:
AA AB AD AE AG AH AI AL
AM AN AR AS AT AW AX AY
BA BE BI BO BY DE DO ED
EF EH EL EM EN ER ES ET
EX FA GO HA HE HI HM HO
ID IF IN IS IT JO KA LA
LI LO MA ME MI MM MO MU
MY NA NE NO NU OD OE OF
OH OM ON OP OR OS OW OX
OY PA PE PI RE SH SI SO
TA TI TO UH UM UN UP US
UT WE WO XI XU YA YE YO
(Note that this list is from the North American Official Scrabble Word List. The rest of the world uses the SOWPODS list which has quite a few more words on it. Your home dictionary probably has a slightly different set of words. If you want to know the meanings of these words, you can go here)
This is a good list to learn for a few reasons:
1) You'll use these words all the time. Knowing all the two-letter words make it much easier to fit your plays on the board.
2) It's a short list. It has only 96 words and you already know bunches of them. Among the words that you may not know, many of them are common sounds, names of letters, and musical notes. It's pretty easy to memorize them all.
3) Considering reasons 1 and 2, the effort to reward ratio is really low. This is a great list to memorize.
Lesson #2 - Bingo!
If you use all 7 of your letters in one play, that's called a Bingo and you get 50 extra points for your effort. This is a huge and potentially game-changing bonus. If you can get one of these per game, you will win a decent number of tournament games. Getting bingoable letters in your rack, and then subsequently finding the bingos, are skills that are learnable. Here are a couple of good tips:
1) Your first priority as soon as you fill your rack with letters, is to look for bingos. (This is best done while your opponent is making his/her move.) So as soon as you get your letters, immediately look at any common prefixes or suffixes you have. For example, if you've got "ING", "TION", "IER" or any other good suffix on your rack, move those letters to the end. Similarly, if you have "RE", "OUT, "UN" or any good prefix, move those to the front. Play with the rest of the letters, seeing what other common letter combinations you have. If you aren't used to looking for 7-letter words, it will take some practice.
2) If you've determined that you don't have any bingos, then you should keep in mind what letters you want to keep or get rid of on your turn. Let's say your rack is CGINOTW. Now, there's no bingo there, but there are some juicy letter combinations like TION and ING. Personally, the ING is my favorite. There are lots of bingos that end in ING. So, ideally you'd leave yourself with those letters, which means that you should get rid of COTW on your turn. That's kind of an awkward set of letters to play, so maybe instead you'd focus on playing the COW and leaving yourself with TING. TING is a great set of letters to leave in your rack.
The idea is that even if you can't bingo on this turn, try to give yourself a chance to bingo on the next one. This leads nicely into...
Lesson #3 - Rack Management
Rack management is the idea that you're not just trying to score as many points as possible on each turn. Although maximizing points is big plus, you have to weigh that against the letters you're leaving yourself with for the next turn.
If you've got a great play that scores 40 points and leaves yourself with II on your rack, ok, that's a crappy leave, but 40 points is pretty damn good and is probably worth it. Conversely, if you can score an extra 5 points, but it means leaving yourself with III on your rack instead of EST, then you're making the wrong move. Keep the EST and make the lower-scoring move. You always have to weigh the points you'll score against the letters you're leaving yourself for your next turn.
Even if you can't leave yourself with a great set of letters like ING, try to leave a reasonable vowel-consonant balance. If you're playing 3 letters, try to leave 2 consonants and 2 vowels behind, or 3 consonants and 1 vowel. I usually like to have more consonants than vowels in my rack, but even amounts of each is really good too.
Deciding when to go for the higher scoring move vs getting rid of crappy letters is a subtle art, but it gets easier with experience. I think we all can agree that a nice rack is a good thing.
Lesson #4 - Picking your spot
Anytime you're placing a word, bingo or not, you want to maximize the points you can get for it. For example, if you have a chance to play onto a Triple-Word-Score (TWS) spot, you should probably take it. Even if you might score a few more points somewhere else, better that you take the spot than leave it for your opponent.
One of the first things you need to do before making your move, is look at the board and see if there are any great spots. The TWS is a great spot and even the Triple-Letter-Score (TLS) can be worth a lot of points. For example, let's say this were the board:
The first thing we notice about this board is that someone has played an illegal word. No matter what that blank is supposed to be in FUC*TARD, that is not a legal play. Kudos to the player who got away with this. It is a play only slightly more plausible than KWYJIBO.
Anyway, looking at this board, a couple spots jump out. First off, right beneath BASTARD, there is a juicy TWS. Ditto for over on the end of S*IT. If you have a S, then you'll be able to make great plays in either of these spots. If, however, you have no S, then those spots aren't really playable for you. You should then notice the TLS to the left of the second A in ALBATROSS. Let's say your rack is this: AAHINTZ
Since you've got no bingo and no S, then what's your best play? Check out that TLS, If you play HA going down, with your H (worth 4 points) on the TLS, you'll score 28 points, which ain't half bad. You'll get rid of one of your A's (which is good because having two of them is a slight impediment) and you'll leave yourself with 3 consonants and 2 vowels, which is pretty much a perfect balance. I'm not positive it's the best move on that board, but it's a pretty good one. It also leads nicely into...
Lesson #5 - Parallel plays
In that last example, we played our HA word parallel to ALBATROSS. These parallel plays are your bread and butter for finding ways to fit your word onto a board. Not only do they allow you to place words that otherwise might be unplaceable, but they also let more of your letters count twice, once for each word they're in. Seeing and making these plays is an essential skill.
Let's go back to the previous board. This time let's say our rack is AAEIMNN. Once again, you've got no bingo and no S, so you're looking to maximize your points while leaving yourself a decent rack. Your rack is a little vowel-heavy, so it would be nice to play something with more vowels than consonants.
In this case I recommend playing LAME, down from the L in BOLLOCKS. You'll put your M (worth 3 points) on the TLS, scoring 9 points twice. All in all, the play is worth 28 points, and it leaves you with AIMN. That's a decent score and a decent leave. Solid play.
Lesson # 6 - When to exchange
Sometimes, it makes sense to spend your turn exchanging letters instead of making a play. I end up doing this about once every other game, but sometimes I'll do it multiple times in a single game. My rule of thumb is something like:
If I'm scoring less than around a dozen points, AND I'm leaving myself with crappy letters, then I probably should be exchanging letters instead.
So, for example, if my rack is AACIIEO, I might be able to eke out slightly more than a dozen points, but I'll be leaving myself with 4 or 5 vowels and no consonants, which is horrible.
On the other hand, if my rack is AAAREST, and maybe my highest scoring play is 8 points with AA, I'd probably make that move. I get 8 points for it and I get to leave myself with AREST, which is a nice set of letters. So, in this case, since I can leave myself with a great set of letters, I'll happily accept scoring 8 points instead of getting 0 for exchanging letters.
Lesson # 7 - The S and the blank
Some letters are so good that you want to save them. The S and the blank are these letters. If you are going to use an S, make sure that you're getting at least 10 more points for your play, than your best play without an S. Really good players will probably expect more like 15 points for an S. Regardless, the concept here is that the S is a very valuable letter and you shouldn't generally be using them unless you're getting good value for them.
The blank is even more valuable. Basically, you shouldn't be using a blank unless you're bingoing with it. I think the rule of thumb is that you should be scoring 30 to 40 more points with your blank than you would without it. It's that valuable. You should think carefully about any play that uses a blank that doesn't score at least 50 points.
The X should probably be listed here too, but it's a little different. Although I'd expect any X play to be worth at least 30 points, it's not a good bingo letter, so sometimes (but rarely) you just need to dump it.
Lesson # 8 - The Q
The Q is the opposite of the S and the blank for me. I regard it as a letter to dump. Often it's the main reason that I'll spend a turn exchanging letters, especially if it's near the end of the game. There are, however, a few good Q words to know that will greatly increase your ability to play this horrible letter. Memorize these words now:
QUA QAT QAID SUQ
There are only 4 words on that list (and one them even has a U after the Q), but I gotta say that I play one of those words about other game or so. You can find the complete list of funky Q words here.
Getting stuck with the Q at the end of the game is a kick in the nuts, so I strongly recommend dumping that Q as soon as possible. One of my favorite words up there, SUQ, burns one of my favorite letters, the S. If it's your only way to get rid of that Q (because the board is so tight, perhaps), then it's a good use of the S.
Lesson # 9 - Open boards vs closed boards
As the game progresses, it's important to manage the board. If you're ahead in the game, you'll want to shut the board down. Look around, are there spots where someone could easily place a bingo? If so, try to block those spots. Playing defensively is the key to holding onto your lead.
Similarly, if you're behind by 60 points near the end of the game, you want a wide open board so that you can place a bingo. If there isn't a good bingo spot, you'll need to create one. Try to put a word somewhere that opens up the board. Obviously you'll need to manage your rack at the same time, ensuring that you'll have both the letters and the board-space to bingo with.
Overall the general rule is that if you're ahead, shut the board down. If you're behind, open it up. Note that opening up the board is much harder than shutting it down. Good luck there.
Lesson # 10 - More lists
There are many many word lists out there. If you've mastered the two-letter word list, then the next one to memorize is probably the three-letter word list. There are just under 1,000 words on that one (many of which you already know). I'll admit that I still haven't hunkered down and memorized that list. Top players will also have memorized the four-letter word list, but that's totally beyond me.
You can find a bunch of great lists on the net. Here's one such page.
That's it! You are so welcome
I won't go over the rules, because that would bore me. Instead we'll cover basic strategies and things to study. If you learn these lessons well, you'll be a decent tournament-calibre player.
Lesson #1 - Memorize the two-letter word list
Memorizing word lists is excruciatingly boring. It changes the game from something fun into a chore. That being said, this list is a great one and is worth your time if you have any interest whatsoever in winning Scrabble games. And, honestly, who doesn't?
So, here's the list:
AA AB AD AE AG AH AI AL
AM AN AR AS AT AW AX AY
BA BE BI BO BY DE DO ED
EF EH EL EM EN ER ES ET
EX FA GO HA HE HI HM HO
ID IF IN IS IT JO KA LA
LI LO MA ME MI MM MO MU
MY NA NE NO NU OD OE OF
OH OM ON OP OR OS OW OX
OY PA PE PI RE SH SI SO
TA TI TO UH UM UN UP US
UT WE WO XI XU YA YE YO
(Note that this list is from the North American Official Scrabble Word List. The rest of the world uses the SOWPODS list which has quite a few more words on it. Your home dictionary probably has a slightly different set of words. If you want to know the meanings of these words, you can go here)
This is a good list to learn for a few reasons:
1) You'll use these words all the time. Knowing all the two-letter words make it much easier to fit your plays on the board.
2) It's a short list. It has only 96 words and you already know bunches of them. Among the words that you may not know, many of them are common sounds, names of letters, and musical notes. It's pretty easy to memorize them all.
3) Considering reasons 1 and 2, the effort to reward ratio is really low. This is a great list to memorize.
Lesson #2 - Bingo!
If you use all 7 of your letters in one play, that's called a Bingo and you get 50 extra points for your effort. This is a huge and potentially game-changing bonus. If you can get one of these per game, you will win a decent number of tournament games. Getting bingoable letters in your rack, and then subsequently finding the bingos, are skills that are learnable. Here are a couple of good tips:
1) Your first priority as soon as you fill your rack with letters, is to look for bingos. (This is best done while your opponent is making his/her move.) So as soon as you get your letters, immediately look at any common prefixes or suffixes you have. For example, if you've got "ING", "TION", "IER" or any other good suffix on your rack, move those letters to the end. Similarly, if you have "RE", "OUT, "UN" or any good prefix, move those to the front. Play with the rest of the letters, seeing what other common letter combinations you have. If you aren't used to looking for 7-letter words, it will take some practice.
2) If you've determined that you don't have any bingos, then you should keep in mind what letters you want to keep or get rid of on your turn. Let's say your rack is CGINOTW. Now, there's no bingo there, but there are some juicy letter combinations like TION and ING. Personally, the ING is my favorite. There are lots of bingos that end in ING. So, ideally you'd leave yourself with those letters, which means that you should get rid of COTW on your turn. That's kind of an awkward set of letters to play, so maybe instead you'd focus on playing the COW and leaving yourself with TING. TING is a great set of letters to leave in your rack.
The idea is that even if you can't bingo on this turn, try to give yourself a chance to bingo on the next one. This leads nicely into...
Lesson #3 - Rack Management
Rack management is the idea that you're not just trying to score as many points as possible on each turn. Although maximizing points is big plus, you have to weigh that against the letters you're leaving yourself with for the next turn.
If you've got a great play that scores 40 points and leaves yourself with II on your rack, ok, that's a crappy leave, but 40 points is pretty damn good and is probably worth it. Conversely, if you can score an extra 5 points, but it means leaving yourself with III on your rack instead of EST, then you're making the wrong move. Keep the EST and make the lower-scoring move. You always have to weigh the points you'll score against the letters you're leaving yourself for your next turn.
Even if you can't leave yourself with a great set of letters like ING, try to leave a reasonable vowel-consonant balance. If you're playing 3 letters, try to leave 2 consonants and 2 vowels behind, or 3 consonants and 1 vowel. I usually like to have more consonants than vowels in my rack, but even amounts of each is really good too.
Deciding when to go for the higher scoring move vs getting rid of crappy letters is a subtle art, but it gets easier with experience. I think we all can agree that a nice rack is a good thing.
Lesson #4 - Picking your spot
Anytime you're placing a word, bingo or not, you want to maximize the points you can get for it. For example, if you have a chance to play onto a Triple-Word-Score (TWS) spot, you should probably take it. Even if you might score a few more points somewhere else, better that you take the spot than leave it for your opponent.
One of the first things you need to do before making your move, is look at the board and see if there are any great spots. The TWS is a great spot and even the Triple-Letter-Score (TLS) can be worth a lot of points. For example, let's say this were the board:
The first thing we notice about this board is that someone has played an illegal word. No matter what that blank is supposed to be in FUC*TARD, that is not a legal play. Kudos to the player who got away with this. It is a play only slightly more plausible than KWYJIBO.
Anyway, looking at this board, a couple spots jump out. First off, right beneath BASTARD, there is a juicy TWS. Ditto for over on the end of S*IT. If you have a S, then you'll be able to make great plays in either of these spots. If, however, you have no S, then those spots aren't really playable for you. You should then notice the TLS to the left of the second A in ALBATROSS. Let's say your rack is this: AAHINTZ
Since you've got no bingo and no S, then what's your best play? Check out that TLS, If you play HA going down, with your H (worth 4 points) on the TLS, you'll score 28 points, which ain't half bad. You'll get rid of one of your A's (which is good because having two of them is a slight impediment) and you'll leave yourself with 3 consonants and 2 vowels, which is pretty much a perfect balance. I'm not positive it's the best move on that board, but it's a pretty good one. It also leads nicely into...
Lesson #5 - Parallel plays
In that last example, we played our HA word parallel to ALBATROSS. These parallel plays are your bread and butter for finding ways to fit your word onto a board. Not only do they allow you to place words that otherwise might be unplaceable, but they also let more of your letters count twice, once for each word they're in. Seeing and making these plays is an essential skill.
Let's go back to the previous board. This time let's say our rack is AAEIMNN. Once again, you've got no bingo and no S, so you're looking to maximize your points while leaving yourself a decent rack. Your rack is a little vowel-heavy, so it would be nice to play something with more vowels than consonants.
In this case I recommend playing LAME, down from the L in BOLLOCKS. You'll put your M (worth 3 points) on the TLS, scoring 9 points twice. All in all, the play is worth 28 points, and it leaves you with AIMN. That's a decent score and a decent leave. Solid play.
Lesson # 6 - When to exchange
Sometimes, it makes sense to spend your turn exchanging letters instead of making a play. I end up doing this about once every other game, but sometimes I'll do it multiple times in a single game. My rule of thumb is something like:
If I'm scoring less than around a dozen points, AND I'm leaving myself with crappy letters, then I probably should be exchanging letters instead.
So, for example, if my rack is AACIIEO, I might be able to eke out slightly more than a dozen points, but I'll be leaving myself with 4 or 5 vowels and no consonants, which is horrible.
On the other hand, if my rack is AAAREST, and maybe my highest scoring play is 8 points with AA, I'd probably make that move. I get 8 points for it and I get to leave myself with AREST, which is a nice set of letters. So, in this case, since I can leave myself with a great set of letters, I'll happily accept scoring 8 points instead of getting 0 for exchanging letters.
Lesson # 7 - The S and the blank
Some letters are so good that you want to save them. The S and the blank are these letters. If you are going to use an S, make sure that you're getting at least 10 more points for your play, than your best play without an S. Really good players will probably expect more like 15 points for an S. Regardless, the concept here is that the S is a very valuable letter and you shouldn't generally be using them unless you're getting good value for them.
The blank is even more valuable. Basically, you shouldn't be using a blank unless you're bingoing with it. I think the rule of thumb is that you should be scoring 30 to 40 more points with your blank than you would without it. It's that valuable. You should think carefully about any play that uses a blank that doesn't score at least 50 points.
The X should probably be listed here too, but it's a little different. Although I'd expect any X play to be worth at least 30 points, it's not a good bingo letter, so sometimes (but rarely) you just need to dump it.
Lesson # 8 - The Q
The Q is the opposite of the S and the blank for me. I regard it as a letter to dump. Often it's the main reason that I'll spend a turn exchanging letters, especially if it's near the end of the game. There are, however, a few good Q words to know that will greatly increase your ability to play this horrible letter. Memorize these words now:
QUA QAT QAID SUQ
There are only 4 words on that list (and one them even has a U after the Q), but I gotta say that I play one of those words about other game or so. You can find the complete list of funky Q words here.
Getting stuck with the Q at the end of the game is a kick in the nuts, so I strongly recommend dumping that Q as soon as possible. One of my favorite words up there, SUQ, burns one of my favorite letters, the S. If it's your only way to get rid of that Q (because the board is so tight, perhaps), then it's a good use of the S.
Lesson # 9 - Open boards vs closed boards
As the game progresses, it's important to manage the board. If you're ahead in the game, you'll want to shut the board down. Look around, are there spots where someone could easily place a bingo? If so, try to block those spots. Playing defensively is the key to holding onto your lead.
Similarly, if you're behind by 60 points near the end of the game, you want a wide open board so that you can place a bingo. If there isn't a good bingo spot, you'll need to create one. Try to put a word somewhere that opens up the board. Obviously you'll need to manage your rack at the same time, ensuring that you'll have both the letters and the board-space to bingo with.
Overall the general rule is that if you're ahead, shut the board down. If you're behind, open it up. Note that opening up the board is much harder than shutting it down. Good luck there.
Lesson # 10 - More lists
There are many many word lists out there. If you've mastered the two-letter word list, then the next one to memorize is probably the three-letter word list. There are just under 1,000 words on that one (many of which you already know). I'll admit that I still haven't hunkered down and memorized that list. Top players will also have memorized the four-letter word list, but that's totally beyond me.
You can find a bunch of great lists on the net. Here's one such page.
That's it! You are so welcome
Tuesday, March 15, 2005
Saturday night was the fundraising auction for my daughter's school. Public elementary schools here in San Francisco lack funds for things like:
- Physical education
- A library
- Playground equipment
- School nurse
Usually when I make a list in this blog, the last few elements of it are jokes. The joke here is on the students. Ho ho ho.
What my daughter's school does have, however, is a very active Parent Teacher Association. The PTA holds a couple major fundraisers each year and through them they fund most of the above items. (Note that there's still no school nurse, which is why kids get sent home with "pink eye" despite any actual pink eyes.)
So, the annual auction is a big deal. Parents are enlisted to make, gather, or secrete items to auction off. Local companies are cajoled into donating products, and child labor laws are temporarily suspended so the school kids can glue, color, and sculpt items for the auction. In the end, hundreds of items are displayed, and a parental bidding frenzy ensues.
The smartest thing that the auction organizers did was hold an open bar. Free booze. This makes sense in an auction for the same reason that it makes sense in a casino. You want those wallets well lubricated, and booze is the K-Y jelly of choice. Soon, parents were spending literally thousands of dollars on arts and crafts. I'm not sure exactly how much the school raised, but it was probably over $70,000.
When my daughter is able to enjoy a gold-plated library, we'll have booze to thank.
I had to cut out of the auction early to let the babysitter go home. For the first time we had a neighborhood kid, a 14 year-old girl, watch our daughter while we were out. She's a pretty mature kid and had been advertising her baby and petsitting business for quite a while. Also, my daughter digs her.
When I got home, I asked the babysitter, who had been there for about 3.5 hours, what her hourly rate was. She shrugged her shoulders and said, "Whatever you feel like paying."
Whatever I feel like paying? I feel like paying $0, but that seems unfair somehow.
"You don't have an amount you want to charge me?" I asked?
"Nope, whatever you want." she replied infuriatingly, while I flipped through my wallet.
"How about $5.00 an hour? And we'll round it up to $20.00?" I suggested, with my eyebrows slightly raised in a doesn't-that-sound-good expression.
"Whatever you think is fair," she replied, staring at me steadily.
Crap! What does that mean? Does that mean that $5.00 is unfair? Am I getting bamboozled by a 14 year old? I suck at this.
So, I gave her $25.00 and sent her on her way.
Then it was time to put my daughter to bed. We've almost always had an elaborate night-time ritual for my daughter. Back when she was the world's most colicky baby (tm), the ritual had all sorts of steps including music, saying goodnight to various inanimate objects, reading, and frustration. Mostly I was the one who got frustrated. I'd be as soothing as I could be and my daughter would just scream. Soon, the bedtime ritual became my wife's duty because it made me crazy.
As a side note here, I'm not a crazy guy. I'm very even and sane. Putting my daughter to bed, however, just drove me batty.
Anyways, the ritual is less elaborate now that she's much older. There's still lots of story time though. My wife always reads to her and then tells her a made-up story featuring a running set of wife-created characters. Recently they've been reading the Chronicles of Narnia and they've both been digging it. I was looking forward to reading it tonight.
"Baby, it's late, so you can either have me read from your book, or I can tell you a made-up story, but we don't have time for both." I made this offer knowing full well that I wouldn't have to come through on the made-up story. My daughter was loving her Narnia books and wouldn't pass up an opportunity to hear them. Good news because I hadn't the faintest idea what story I'd make up.
"Ok, I'll take a made-up story."
"What?? Don't you want to hear your book? Hasn't it been interesting??"
"I'd prefer a made-up story."
"Oh, baby, I think Narnia would be better. I'm not good at making up stories like your mother."
"Daddy! Your stories are great."
Crap! Am I getting bamboozled by a 5 year old? I suck at this.
I thought for a very long time. I looked all around her room for inspiration. Story about curtains? No. About dressers? Clocks? Walls? No no no.
Nothing there. I thought about books I had recently read. My current book was a science fiction book about an assassin. Perhaps not good child fare. I contemplated common science fiction themes:
- Aliens. Too scary
- Man defeating computer by creating a circular logic loop. Too cliche.
- Time travel.
Ah! Time travel! And that clock on her wall! Oh, it's all coming together!
And so the story of Tim (note the similarity to the word "Time") the clockmaker was born. Tim's very special clock allowed him to travel through time. Before you know it, he's caught the bad guys and the story is over.
Ta dah.
- Physical education
- A library
- Playground equipment
- School nurse
Usually when I make a list in this blog, the last few elements of it are jokes. The joke here is on the students. Ho ho ho.
What my daughter's school does have, however, is a very active Parent Teacher Association. The PTA holds a couple major fundraisers each year and through them they fund most of the above items. (Note that there's still no school nurse, which is why kids get sent home with "pink eye" despite any actual pink eyes.)
So, the annual auction is a big deal. Parents are enlisted to make, gather, or secrete items to auction off. Local companies are cajoled into donating products, and child labor laws are temporarily suspended so the school kids can glue, color, and sculpt items for the auction. In the end, hundreds of items are displayed, and a parental bidding frenzy ensues.
The smartest thing that the auction organizers did was hold an open bar. Free booze. This makes sense in an auction for the same reason that it makes sense in a casino. You want those wallets well lubricated, and booze is the K-Y jelly of choice. Soon, parents were spending literally thousands of dollars on arts and crafts. I'm not sure exactly how much the school raised, but it was probably over $70,000.
When my daughter is able to enjoy a gold-plated library, we'll have booze to thank.
I had to cut out of the auction early to let the babysitter go home. For the first time we had a neighborhood kid, a 14 year-old girl, watch our daughter while we were out. She's a pretty mature kid and had been advertising her baby and petsitting business for quite a while. Also, my daughter digs her.
When I got home, I asked the babysitter, who had been there for about 3.5 hours, what her hourly rate was. She shrugged her shoulders and said, "Whatever you feel like paying."
Whatever I feel like paying? I feel like paying $0, but that seems unfair somehow.
"You don't have an amount you want to charge me?" I asked?
"Nope, whatever you want." she replied infuriatingly, while I flipped through my wallet.
"How about $5.00 an hour? And we'll round it up to $20.00?" I suggested, with my eyebrows slightly raised in a doesn't-that-sound-good expression.
"Whatever you think is fair," she replied, staring at me steadily.
Crap! What does that mean? Does that mean that $5.00 is unfair? Am I getting bamboozled by a 14 year old? I suck at this.
So, I gave her $25.00 and sent her on her way.
Then it was time to put my daughter to bed. We've almost always had an elaborate night-time ritual for my daughter. Back when she was the world's most colicky baby (tm), the ritual had all sorts of steps including music, saying goodnight to various inanimate objects, reading, and frustration. Mostly I was the one who got frustrated. I'd be as soothing as I could be and my daughter would just scream. Soon, the bedtime ritual became my wife's duty because it made me crazy.
As a side note here, I'm not a crazy guy. I'm very even and sane. Putting my daughter to bed, however, just drove me batty.
Anyways, the ritual is less elaborate now that she's much older. There's still lots of story time though. My wife always reads to her and then tells her a made-up story featuring a running set of wife-created characters. Recently they've been reading the Chronicles of Narnia and they've both been digging it. I was looking forward to reading it tonight.
"Baby, it's late, so you can either have me read from your book, or I can tell you a made-up story, but we don't have time for both." I made this offer knowing full well that I wouldn't have to come through on the made-up story. My daughter was loving her Narnia books and wouldn't pass up an opportunity to hear them. Good news because I hadn't the faintest idea what story I'd make up.
"Ok, I'll take a made-up story."
"What?? Don't you want to hear your book? Hasn't it been interesting??"
"I'd prefer a made-up story."
"Oh, baby, I think Narnia would be better. I'm not good at making up stories like your mother."
"Daddy! Your stories are great."
Crap! Am I getting bamboozled by a 5 year old? I suck at this.
I thought for a very long time. I looked all around her room for inspiration. Story about curtains? No. About dressers? Clocks? Walls? No no no.
Nothing there. I thought about books I had recently read. My current book was a science fiction book about an assassin. Perhaps not good child fare. I contemplated common science fiction themes:
- Aliens. Too scary
- Man defeating computer by creating a circular logic loop. Too cliche.
- Time travel.
Ah! Time travel! And that clock on her wall! Oh, it's all coming together!
And so the story of Tim (note the similarity to the word "Time") the clockmaker was born. Tim's very special clock allowed him to travel through time. Before you know it, he's caught the bad guys and the story is over.
Ta dah.
Monday, March 14, 2005
Me: Internet, how was your weekend?
Internet: ....
Me: Ok, I'll go first.
Saturday morning kicked off with a 21.75 mile run. Those of you who do not suffer from the same idiocy as me may be wondering what it's like to do a training run of that length. Well, here's a way to think of it. Imagine taking a running step. There! Not so bad! Ok, now take another one. Now, imagine repeating that another 28,593* times. It's like that, but not as fun and interesting as it sounds.
The subsequent ice-bath, however, is always a hoot. A nut-chilling hoot.
That night the wife and I attended a fundraising auction for my daughter's elementary school. More on that another day.
On Sunday night my sister-in-law babysat for us, so the wife and I got to go out and see one of them talkies. Moving pictures! With sound! Amazing.
We saw "Be Cool". The movie had some decent chuckles in it, but overall it was a big mess. The high point of the movie, and I can't believe I'm saying this in a public venue, was The Rock. He was pretty damn funny and I actually found myself looking forward to his scenes. (I think my IQ just dropped.) I can also say that I am looking forward to voting for him for Governor of California. Your turn will come, Rock. Rockernor. Goverrock. Whatever.
My grand outing to the movie theater left me with a couple other thoughts. First, when did it become common for people to bring their infants to non-kid movies? Seems like there's an infant in the audience the majority of the time. Babies, as it turns out, HATE movies. They squawk out of boredom and eventually start crying. Babies are annoying enough OUTSIDE of a movie theater, but inside?? Unacceptable. Had the parents of this child possessed arm muscles even more atrophied than mine, I would have chastised them. I'm Big Man In Movie Theater when confronted with pipsqueaks. I fear normal mortals with their average arm strength though.
Secondly, as long as we're on the theme of beating people up in movie theaters, if I were some sort of mugger or thief, I would totally prey upon dudes pissing at a urinal. I'd kick them in the back, slamming them into the urinal, and then grab/demand their wallet. Soooo easy. Once they're covered in piss, and their penis is still hanging out, how much of a defense are they going to put up? At worst they'll pee on me.
I'm telling you that there's good money in this. If this whole computer programming thing doesn't work out, I may go into the urinal-based wallet-snatching field.
If any of you would-be muggers steal my idea, I expect a cut. Bastards.
* actual number of steps computed from my steps-per-minute pace
Internet: ....
Me: Ok, I'll go first.
Saturday morning kicked off with a 21.75 mile run. Those of you who do not suffer from the same idiocy as me may be wondering what it's like to do a training run of that length. Well, here's a way to think of it. Imagine taking a running step. There! Not so bad! Ok, now take another one. Now, imagine repeating that another 28,593* times. It's like that, but not as fun and interesting as it sounds.
The subsequent ice-bath, however, is always a hoot. A nut-chilling hoot.
That night the wife and I attended a fundraising auction for my daughter's elementary school. More on that another day.
On Sunday night my sister-in-law babysat for us, so the wife and I got to go out and see one of them talkies. Moving pictures! With sound! Amazing.
We saw "Be Cool". The movie had some decent chuckles in it, but overall it was a big mess. The high point of the movie, and I can't believe I'm saying this in a public venue, was The Rock. He was pretty damn funny and I actually found myself looking forward to his scenes. (I think my IQ just dropped.) I can also say that I am looking forward to voting for him for Governor of California. Your turn will come, Rock. Rockernor. Goverrock. Whatever.
My grand outing to the movie theater left me with a couple other thoughts. First, when did it become common for people to bring their infants to non-kid movies? Seems like there's an infant in the audience the majority of the time. Babies, as it turns out, HATE movies. They squawk out of boredom and eventually start crying. Babies are annoying enough OUTSIDE of a movie theater, but inside?? Unacceptable. Had the parents of this child possessed arm muscles even more atrophied than mine, I would have chastised them. I'm Big Man In Movie Theater when confronted with pipsqueaks. I fear normal mortals with their average arm strength though.
Secondly, as long as we're on the theme of beating people up in movie theaters, if I were some sort of mugger or thief, I would totally prey upon dudes pissing at a urinal. I'd kick them in the back, slamming them into the urinal, and then grab/demand their wallet. Soooo easy. Once they're covered in piss, and their penis is still hanging out, how much of a defense are they going to put up? At worst they'll pee on me.
I'm telling you that there's good money in this. If this whole computer programming thing doesn't work out, I may go into the urinal-based wallet-snatching field.
If any of you would-be muggers steal my idea, I expect a cut. Bastards.
* actual number of steps computed from my steps-per-minute pace
Thursday, March 10, 2005
Two part quiz today.
1- Suppose, hypothetically speaking, you were the administrator of a public elementary school. Now, pretend it's a Spring pollen-filled day, and one especially allergic kindergartner reports that one of her eyes is watering and she's feeling a little under the weather. Do you:
A) Assume hay fever?
B) Ask if she got something in her eye?
C) Diagnose a case of Pink Eye DESPITE ANY ACTUAL PINKNESS IN THE EYE and demand that her parents remove her from the school until she is either cured or a doctor determines that she does not have Pink Eye?
2- Please caption this picture:
1- Suppose, hypothetically speaking, you were the administrator of a public elementary school. Now, pretend it's a Spring pollen-filled day, and one especially allergic kindergartner reports that one of her eyes is watering and she's feeling a little under the weather. Do you:
A) Assume hay fever?
B) Ask if she got something in her eye?
C) Diagnose a case of Pink Eye DESPITE ANY ACTUAL PINKNESS IN THE EYE and demand that her parents remove her from the school until she is either cured or a doctor determines that she does not have Pink Eye?
2- Please caption this picture:
Wednesday, March 09, 2005
Apologies to those of you who are still suffering from a saccharin-overdose of sweetness from yesterday's post. It was, perhaps, uncalled for.
So, yesterday, shortly after I composed the nauseating entry, I strolled down the hallway here in my house, past the bathroom where my daughter was supposed to be peeing. It's generally pretty easy to see if she's peeing or not because she likes to keep the door wiiiiide open. I imagine she'll stop doing this sometime before puberty, but for now, anyone in our household gets a free watersports peepshow. (well, that combination of keywords should get me some undesirable hits)
Anyway, I'm walking by and I look to see if she's done yet and I see her standing next to the toilet, peering into it, with one hand beginning to reach into the bowl...
Me: HEY!
Daughter: (whipping around, wide-eyed) What?
Me: Don't! Don't ever reach into the toilet!
Daughter: (eyes now cast down) Ok.
Me: You should never put your hand, or your face, or any other non-butt body part near the toilet bowl. It's very dirty in there. Ok?
Daughter: (eyes still cast down) Ok.
Me: Thank you.
Daughter: But, I wasn't going to touch the wet part.
So, somehow, I failed to ask the important question, which is obviously, "What the hell WERE you going to touch in there?", but I still felt it was important to post this particular event. As much to present a more realistic moment in parenting as to erase yesterday's post o' sweetness.
So, yesterday, shortly after I composed the nauseating entry, I strolled down the hallway here in my house, past the bathroom where my daughter was supposed to be peeing. It's generally pretty easy to see if she's peeing or not because she likes to keep the door wiiiiide open. I imagine she'll stop doing this sometime before puberty, but for now, anyone in our household gets a free watersports peepshow. (well, that combination of keywords should get me some undesirable hits)
Anyway, I'm walking by and I look to see if she's done yet and I see her standing next to the toilet, peering into it, with one hand beginning to reach into the bowl...
Me: HEY!
Daughter: (whipping around, wide-eyed) What?
Me: Don't! Don't ever reach into the toilet!
Daughter: (eyes now cast down) Ok.
Me: You should never put your hand, or your face, or any other non-butt body part near the toilet bowl. It's very dirty in there. Ok?
Daughter: (eyes still cast down) Ok.
Me: Thank you.
Daughter: But, I wasn't going to touch the wet part.
So, somehow, I failed to ask the important question, which is obviously, "What the hell WERE you going to touch in there?", but I still felt it was important to post this particular event. As much to present a more realistic moment in parenting as to erase yesterday's post o' sweetness.
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
My daughter likes to have me keep her company while she gets dressed in the morning. This morning, some bitlet of conversation prompted me to sing the one line of "Do You Know The Way To San Jose" that I know.
Daughter: Daddy, keep singing that song.
Me: Sorry, that's the only line that I remember.
Daughter: Oh.
Me: You know, you're the only person who ever wants to hear me sing.
Daughter: Why don't other people want to hear you sing?
Me: Because I'm a horrible singer.
Daughter: I love hearing you sing! You're a great singer.
Me: No, no I'm not, but thanks.
Daughter: You're great at singing that "Pink Moon" song.
(When my daughter was younger, we had a nightly pre-bedtime ritual where I would fire up the Nick Drake song, "Pink Moon" (which you may recall from a lovely Volkswagon commercial a couple years ago). I'd hold her in my arms, dance slowly, and sometimes softly sing along with the music. Apparently my daughter believed that I was the original singer of that song. It was a sad day, years later, when we had to tell her the truth.)
Me: You remember that that wasn't really me singing that song, right?
Daughter: Yes, but you sang along, didn't you?
Me: Yes.
Daughter: I liked that.
I liked it too.
Daughter: Daddy, keep singing that song.
Me: Sorry, that's the only line that I remember.
Daughter: Oh.
Me: You know, you're the only person who ever wants to hear me sing.
Daughter: Why don't other people want to hear you sing?
Me: Because I'm a horrible singer.
Daughter: I love hearing you sing! You're a great singer.
Me: No, no I'm not, but thanks.
Daughter: You're great at singing that "Pink Moon" song.
(When my daughter was younger, we had a nightly pre-bedtime ritual where I would fire up the Nick Drake song, "Pink Moon" (which you may recall from a lovely Volkswagon commercial a couple years ago). I'd hold her in my arms, dance slowly, and sometimes softly sing along with the music. Apparently my daughter believed that I was the original singer of that song. It was a sad day, years later, when we had to tell her the truth.)
Me: You remember that that wasn't really me singing that song, right?
Daughter: Yes, but you sang along, didn't you?
Me: Yes.
Daughter: I liked that.
I liked it too.
Monday, March 07, 2005
The last 24 hours have been an orgy of card-playing.
Last night was our monthly poker game. In preparation, I scoured my closet, looking for my most festive/tacky shirt. I christened it "My Lucky Shirt". Everyone else called it "Mike's gay shirt", but they were just jealous of the tremendous luck it bestowed upon me. Plus, many of them were drinking Chardonnay AT A POKER GAME, so I clearly wasn't the gayest guy there.
Me and my lucky/masculine shirt cleared a sweet $12.00 for the night. Ahhh, fabulous riches. Blogs for everyone. It's on me!
We went to bed at around 2:00am that night. My daughter woke me 5 hours later when she literally jumped out of bed and ran in our room. You can hear her coming on our hardwood floors. Silence.... BOOM... ThumpThumpThumpThumpThumpThump. If there were some sort of Olympic triple-jump-esque event that involved waking , jumping, and sprinting, my daughter would kick serious ass. It may be the steroids.
We came downstairs, with me bleary-eyed and sluggish, and her all amped up about spending another day on this planet as a five year-old. So, what do an exhausted dad and his boundless daughter do at 7:00am on a glorious Sunday? We played poker. She, of course, slaughtered me. I blame the steroids.
In my defense, however, let the record show that I was not still wearing my lucky shirt.
Also in my defense, let it be known that the white chips were worth $1.00 and the blue chips were worth $10.00. So, really, it was an exercise in base-10 mathematics. Later we introduced the lovely $100 purple chips. Extra credit!
Sometimes parenting is found in the nooks and crannies of a hung-over day.
Anyway, we spent the rest of our card-playing hours that day playing games like Old Maid and Uno. Uno is my daughter's current favorite game. The object of the game is to get rid of all the cards in your hand. When you play your second-to-last card, you have to call out "Uno" before you put it down. If you fail to do so, and another player notices, you have to pick up two extra cards.
My daughter LIVES to catch me forgetting to say Uno. If I fail to utter that phrase, she'll leap to her stubby feet as my hand leaves the card behind, triumphantly point her tiny index finger at me, and scream at the top of her lungs, "YOU FORGOT TO SAY UNO!". This is followed by much hooting and cackling. This sequence of events happens surprisingly often.
Although I fail as a parent when it comes to teaching her how to be a good sport, I look forward to her end-zone dances should she ever play football.
And frankly, even the worst game of Uno still beats our old standby of playing baby fish and daddy fish, or baby sandstorm and daddy sandstorm, or whatever stupid noun would be stuck in her head that day. Thankfully she did stick to nouns though. Adverbs would have kicked my ass.
Last night was our monthly poker game. In preparation, I scoured my closet, looking for my most festive/tacky shirt. I christened it "My Lucky Shirt". Everyone else called it "Mike's gay shirt", but they were just jealous of the tremendous luck it bestowed upon me. Plus, many of them were drinking Chardonnay AT A POKER GAME, so I clearly wasn't the gayest guy there.
Me and my lucky/masculine shirt cleared a sweet $12.00 for the night. Ahhh, fabulous riches. Blogs for everyone. It's on me!
We went to bed at around 2:00am that night. My daughter woke me 5 hours later when she literally jumped out of bed and ran in our room. You can hear her coming on our hardwood floors. Silence.... BOOM... ThumpThumpThumpThumpThumpThump. If there were some sort of Olympic triple-jump-esque event that involved waking , jumping, and sprinting, my daughter would kick serious ass. It may be the steroids.
We came downstairs, with me bleary-eyed and sluggish, and her all amped up about spending another day on this planet as a five year-old. So, what do an exhausted dad and his boundless daughter do at 7:00am on a glorious Sunday? We played poker. She, of course, slaughtered me. I blame the steroids.
In my defense, however, let the record show that I was not still wearing my lucky shirt.
Also in my defense, let it be known that the white chips were worth $1.00 and the blue chips were worth $10.00. So, really, it was an exercise in base-10 mathematics. Later we introduced the lovely $100 purple chips. Extra credit!
Sometimes parenting is found in the nooks and crannies of a hung-over day.
Anyway, we spent the rest of our card-playing hours that day playing games like Old Maid and Uno. Uno is my daughter's current favorite game. The object of the game is to get rid of all the cards in your hand. When you play your second-to-last card, you have to call out "Uno" before you put it down. If you fail to do so, and another player notices, you have to pick up two extra cards.
My daughter LIVES to catch me forgetting to say Uno. If I fail to utter that phrase, she'll leap to her stubby feet as my hand leaves the card behind, triumphantly point her tiny index finger at me, and scream at the top of her lungs, "YOU FORGOT TO SAY UNO!". This is followed by much hooting and cackling. This sequence of events happens surprisingly often.
Although I fail as a parent when it comes to teaching her how to be a good sport, I look forward to her end-zone dances should she ever play football.
And frankly, even the worst game of Uno still beats our old standby of playing baby fish and daddy fish, or baby sandstorm and daddy sandstorm, or whatever stupid noun would be stuck in her head that day. Thankfully she did stick to nouns though. Adverbs would have kicked my ass.
Friday, March 04, 2005
Crikey. Here's 100 factoids about me. This goes down in my blog history as the post that required the most effort for the least satisfaction.
Basic Biographical Facts
1) I'm in the 2nd half of my 30s.
2) I have one older sister.
3) I've been married for nearly 9 years.
4) I have a daughter who is coming up on 6.
5) I was born in New Jersey, but have lived in or near San Francisco since the age of 5.
6) I am a smartass.
The Physical Mike
7) I'm almost 5'10" tall.
8) My nose is too big.
9) I'm too hairy.
10) I have almost no sense of smell.
11) I'm allergic to cats.
12) On my right foot my big toe is the longest toe. On my left foot the 2nd toe is the longest. I call him Frankentoe.
13) I've been told I have flexible hips.
Education
14) I went to public schools and hope my daughter will be able to do the same.
15) In sixth grade I dumbed down the way I talked so that people wouldn't think I was a nerd. It didn't work.
16) I was kicked out of the 6th grade song flute chorus because the director thought I was just making up notes. I was not.
17) Out of all the many thousands of hours I spent studying in high school and college, I probably use 1 of them in my current job.
18) I took basic musicianship in college but wisely dropped the class after the first sight-singing test.
19) I learned how to program a computer at age 12 and it changed my life.
20) My knowledge of geography is abysmal.
Jobs
21) My first job was in fast food at Wendy's.
22) My favorite job was working at a one-hour photo place in Berkeley.
23) I've worked from home for the last 9 years.
24) I mostly like my job.
25) I was almost a dot-com millionaire.
26) I have seriously entertained the notion of being a professional poker player despite the fact that I almost always lose at poker.
Running
27) I ran on my high school cross country team during my junior and senior years and never made varsity.
28) The 2005 Boston Marathon will be the 7th marathon I've run.
29) I hate running.
30) I run about 1000 miles a year.
31) When I run, I have as many as 5 electronic devices strapped to various parts of my body.
Religion and Politics
32) I had a bar mitzvah, but it didn't take.
33) I am an agnostic despite what several of my good friends think.
34) I've never voted for a Republican, but it could happen. There are a few that I like.
35) I had low expectations for Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger, but he has slightly exceeded them.
36) I had low expectations for President George W. Bush, but he has still managed to disappoint me.
37) I had high expectations for President Bill Clinton, but he disappointed me too.
38) I had low expectations for San Francisco Mayor Gavin Newsom, but he has won me over.
39) If it were up to me, the "victimless" crimes like prostitution and drugs would be legalized.
Random Favorites
40) My favorite color is blue.
41) My favorite current TV show is The Daily Show (Jon Stewart).
42) My favorite cancelled TV show is Firefly.
43) My favorite side is my right.
44) My favorite actress is Cate Blanchett
45) My favorite blog is Izzle Pfaff.
46) My favorite sport to watch is baseball.
47) My favorite sport to play is tennis, but I suck at it.
48) My favorite beer is Anchor Steam.
49) My favorite mixed drink is a Ketel One martini (2 olives).
Personal Failures
50) I have no sense of direction.
51) I cannot spit for distance.
52) I love to sing but cannot carry a tune.
53) I rarely remember my dreams.
54) I took up guitar at age 30, but gave it up less than a year later when my daughter was born.
55) I can't draw a likeness of anything except a stick figure.
56) I feel slightly inadequate because I've never set up my own Linux box or built a PC.
57) I absolutely cannot tell the difference between a $2.00 bottle of wine and a $50 bottle of wine.
58) I can't make a shirt look ironed. The best I can do is get rid of that wadded-up look.
59) I suck at all sports.
60) If I wake up in the middle of the night, it often takes me hours to fall back asleep.
61) I've been to the dentist once in the last dozen years.
I Da Man
62) I have a technique for getting rid of the hiccups that always works for me.
63) I memorized 50 digits of pi during the SAT test. I still know them (mostly).
64) I am a nationally ranked Scrabble player, with a rating of over 1400.
65) I can think of 8 words with Q in them that don't have a U. There may be others.
66) I'm the most on-time person I know and probably the most on-time person you know.
67) I can juggle.
68) Last year, in a fantasy baseball league with over 100,000 other teams, my team came in 9th.
Eating
69) I'd happily eat Asian food every meal except for breakfast and dessert.
70) Italian and Mexican food bore me.
71) Broccoli is my favorite vegetable, but only lightly cooked.
72) I eat loads of chocolate.
73) I don't eat pigs because I respect their intelligence.
74) I can't stand sweet foods as part of my dinner. I'm talking to you, yams
Likes/Dislikes
75) I hate talking on the phone.
76) I enjoy torturing telemarketers.
77) I read an absurd amount of science fiction.
78) I hate scary movies and romantic comedies.
79) I can't stand TV news programs.
80) I look at my blog stats obsessively.
Better left unsaid
81) I once had a beer dumped over my head by an ex-girlfriend. I mostly didn't deserve it.
82) I've had more men hit on me than women.
83) Briefs.
84) Body oil from a naked gay porn star once splattered on me.
85) Often I don't leave the house for days at a time. It doesn't bother me.
86) I once petted a kangaroo and ate one on the same day. They are both cute and tasty.
87) You know that guy who waits until the very last second to merge into your lane? I'm him. Sorry.
88) I pee sitting down when I'm at home.
89) I like musicals.
90) Pregnant pauses in conversation make me very uncomfortable.
Where the hell do these go?
91) I've been kicked out of a casino for counting cards in blackjack.
92) I was once on Family Feud.
93) I have never been in a physical fight.
94) My first real kiss was at age 16. Her name was Mimi.
95) When I need to drive somewhere, I often use a Car Share.
96) I recognize that this blog is a stupid waste of time.
97) I didn't learn how to swim until I was 24.
98) I've never had a nickname.
99) I owned a motorcycle for several years, but rarely rode it, and sold it once my daughter was born.
Finally
100) If you met me in the real world, you'd think I was slightly annoying and a little rude. You'd be wrong.
Basic Biographical Facts
1) I'm in the 2nd half of my 30s.
2) I have one older sister.
3) I've been married for nearly 9 years.
4) I have a daughter who is coming up on 6.
5) I was born in New Jersey, but have lived in or near San Francisco since the age of 5.
6) I am a smartass.
The Physical Mike
7) I'm almost 5'10" tall.
8) My nose is too big.
9) I'm too hairy.
10) I have almost no sense of smell.
11) I'm allergic to cats.
12) On my right foot my big toe is the longest toe. On my left foot the 2nd toe is the longest. I call him Frankentoe.
13) I've been told I have flexible hips.
Education
14) I went to public schools and hope my daughter will be able to do the same.
15) In sixth grade I dumbed down the way I talked so that people wouldn't think I was a nerd. It didn't work.
16) I was kicked out of the 6th grade song flute chorus because the director thought I was just making up notes. I was not.
17) Out of all the many thousands of hours I spent studying in high school and college, I probably use 1 of them in my current job.
18) I took basic musicianship in college but wisely dropped the class after the first sight-singing test.
19) I learned how to program a computer at age 12 and it changed my life.
20) My knowledge of geography is abysmal.
Jobs
21) My first job was in fast food at Wendy's.
22) My favorite job was working at a one-hour photo place in Berkeley.
23) I've worked from home for the last 9 years.
24) I mostly like my job.
25) I was almost a dot-com millionaire.
26) I have seriously entertained the notion of being a professional poker player despite the fact that I almost always lose at poker.
Running
27) I ran on my high school cross country team during my junior and senior years and never made varsity.
28) The 2005 Boston Marathon will be the 7th marathon I've run.
29) I hate running.
30) I run about 1000 miles a year.
31) When I run, I have as many as 5 electronic devices strapped to various parts of my body.
Religion and Politics
32) I had a bar mitzvah, but it didn't take.
33) I am an agnostic despite what several of my good friends think.
34) I've never voted for a Republican, but it could happen. There are a few that I like.
35) I had low expectations for Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger, but he has slightly exceeded them.
36) I had low expectations for President George W. Bush, but he has still managed to disappoint me.
37) I had high expectations for President Bill Clinton, but he disappointed me too.
38) I had low expectations for San Francisco Mayor Gavin Newsom, but he has won me over.
39) If it were up to me, the "victimless" crimes like prostitution and drugs would be legalized.
Random Favorites
40) My favorite color is blue.
41) My favorite current TV show is The Daily Show (Jon Stewart).
42) My favorite cancelled TV show is Firefly.
43) My favorite side is my right.
44) My favorite actress is Cate Blanchett
45) My favorite blog is Izzle Pfaff.
46) My favorite sport to watch is baseball.
47) My favorite sport to play is tennis, but I suck at it.
48) My favorite beer is Anchor Steam.
49) My favorite mixed drink is a Ketel One martini (2 olives).
Personal Failures
50) I have no sense of direction.
51) I cannot spit for distance.
52) I love to sing but cannot carry a tune.
53) I rarely remember my dreams.
54) I took up guitar at age 30, but gave it up less than a year later when my daughter was born.
55) I can't draw a likeness of anything except a stick figure.
56) I feel slightly inadequate because I've never set up my own Linux box or built a PC.
57) I absolutely cannot tell the difference between a $2.00 bottle of wine and a $50 bottle of wine.
58) I can't make a shirt look ironed. The best I can do is get rid of that wadded-up look.
59) I suck at all sports.
60) If I wake up in the middle of the night, it often takes me hours to fall back asleep.
61) I've been to the dentist once in the last dozen years.
I Da Man
62) I have a technique for getting rid of the hiccups that always works for me.
63) I memorized 50 digits of pi during the SAT test. I still know them (mostly).
64) I am a nationally ranked Scrabble player, with a rating of over 1400.
65) I can think of 8 words with Q in them that don't have a U. There may be others.
66) I'm the most on-time person I know and probably the most on-time person you know.
67) I can juggle.
68) Last year, in a fantasy baseball league with over 100,000 other teams, my team came in 9th.
Eating
69) I'd happily eat Asian food every meal except for breakfast and dessert.
70) Italian and Mexican food bore me.
71) Broccoli is my favorite vegetable, but only lightly cooked.
72) I eat loads of chocolate.
73) I don't eat pigs because I respect their intelligence.
74) I can't stand sweet foods as part of my dinner. I'm talking to you, yams
Likes/Dislikes
75) I hate talking on the phone.
76) I enjoy torturing telemarketers.
77) I read an absurd amount of science fiction.
78) I hate scary movies and romantic comedies.
79) I can't stand TV news programs.
80) I look at my blog stats obsessively.
Better left unsaid
81) I once had a beer dumped over my head by an ex-girlfriend. I mostly didn't deserve it.
82) I've had more men hit on me than women.
83) Briefs.
84) Body oil from a naked gay porn star once splattered on me.
85) Often I don't leave the house for days at a time. It doesn't bother me.
86) I once petted a kangaroo and ate one on the same day. They are both cute and tasty.
87) You know that guy who waits until the very last second to merge into your lane? I'm him. Sorry.
88) I pee sitting down when I'm at home.
89) I like musicals.
90) Pregnant pauses in conversation make me very uncomfortable.
Where the hell do these go?
91) I've been kicked out of a casino for counting cards in blackjack.
92) I was once on Family Feud.
93) I have never been in a physical fight.
94) My first real kiss was at age 16. Her name was Mimi.
95) When I need to drive somewhere, I often use a Car Share.
96) I recognize that this blog is a stupid waste of time.
97) I didn't learn how to swim until I was 24.
98) I've never had a nickname.
99) I owned a motorcycle for several years, but rarely rode it, and sold it once my daughter was born.
Finally
100) If you met me in the real world, you'd think I was slightly annoying and a little rude. You'd be wrong.
Thursday, March 03, 2005
Man, starting on the "100 things about me" list was just about the stupidest blogging idea I've had yet. It's clogging up the whole blogging part of my brain, preventing anything else from leaking out.
Anything besides this little story my wife told me yesterday, that is.
So, the wifey takes the kidlet to the pulmonologist yesterday and my daughter, as usual, dazzles the doc with her command of the English language, describing various symptoms with a near-clinical precision. The doctor takes this all in and says to my wife, "Your husband must be very smart."
Oh. Yes.
If this were a male doctor, or some dizzy school girl, we would discount the comment, but the doctor in question is one of the top pediatric pulmonologists around, and is a FEMALE.
There you have it. Despite all evidence to the contrary, I have been clinically diagnosed with a case of the Very Smarts. Me! Hah, wife! Hah!
Anything besides this little story my wife told me yesterday, that is.
So, the wifey takes the kidlet to the pulmonologist yesterday and my daughter, as usual, dazzles the doc with her command of the English language, describing various symptoms with a near-clinical precision. The doctor takes this all in and says to my wife, "Your husband must be very smart."
Oh. Yes.
If this were a male doctor, or some dizzy school girl, we would discount the comment, but the doctor in question is one of the top pediatric pulmonologists around, and is a FEMALE.
There you have it. Despite all evidence to the contrary, I have been clinically diagnosed with a case of the Very Smarts. Me! Hah, wife! Hah!
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
Back in January I posted about the Invisible Book, an art project that my friend, Johanna, had begun. The Invisible Book was to be a collection of anonymous secrets, only visible under ultraviolet light. Some of you added secrets to the project, and for that I thank you.
Well, the book is just about done. For those of you who live near San Francisco, you can come see the book at an art show. Art shows are what we San Franciscans do when we're not drinking lattes, burning flags, or having anal sex. Even I will be crawling out from under my rock/bridge to come see the show.
You can find links to the Art show, a spiffy "The Making Of" video, and some snippets of the book at the Invisible Book page.
Meanwhile, it's apparent to me that none of Johanna's creativity has rubbed off on me. I'm busy crafting one of those lame-o "100 things about me" posts. All the statements either fall into the "Boring", "Really Boring", or "Slightly Misleading" buckets. And those are just the ones I've kept so far.
Coming to a blog near you.
Well, the book is just about done. For those of you who live near San Francisco, you can come see the book at an art show. Art shows are what we San Franciscans do when we're not drinking lattes, burning flags, or having anal sex. Even I will be crawling out from under my rock/bridge to come see the show.
You can find links to the Art show, a spiffy "The Making Of" video, and some snippets of the book at the Invisible Book page.
Meanwhile, it's apparent to me that none of Johanna's creativity has rubbed off on me. I'm busy crafting one of those lame-o "100 things about me" posts. All the statements either fall into the "Boring", "Really Boring", or "Slightly Misleading" buckets. And those are just the ones I've kept so far.
Coming to a blog near you.
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