tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62391187984104064142024-03-14T01:54:32.303-06:00Creig in ColoradoUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger35125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6239118798410406414.post-51676076025719086682010-10-20T14:44:00.000-06:002010-10-20T14:44:32.029-06:00Creig in Atascadero (Right Where I Belong)Cassandra did indeed fly out to Colorado, we did indeed drive 1,150 miles home. We do indeed have a lovely little apartment near the library. I kept Jaylyn home Monday to reconnect and to help move. It was a great choice.<br />
<br />
You know, I missed them in a way you simply cannot understand until you've pledged your life to somebody else. My life isn't my own any more, when living my life without the people I'm living it for is unbearable.<br />
<br />
There was a time (when I was seventeen and had the whole world figured out) I never would have believed this could happen to me. A time I believed I'd never live for anybody but me. Now I <s>can't</s> <i>can</i> imagine a life without my wife and daughter; I've lived it, and it's horrible.<br />
<br />
I'm glad to be back in Atascadero. I got to kiss my parents, hug Blaine, and I'm gonna see my brother and his wife Saturday. It's <i>wonderful</i> to make plans with my family. I haven't even <i>seen</i> my brother yet, but I<i> know I get to see him in a couple days</i>. I'm relaxed about it. I'm sort of basking in just knowing I've got plans to see him. It's a fantastic feeling.<br />
<br />
I met a lot of really fun, wonderful, high-quality people in Colorado. I'll miss them. I got to work for a really cool <a href="http://www.prodpi.com/">company</a> that provides a really cool, really high-quality service and help them run at full capacity on day one of resuming business. I'll miss the people, I'll miss the company, I'll miss the job.<br />
<br />
I'm here in Atascadero again, with my family and friends, looking forward to the next steps, the next chapter, in my family's life. And it's with that in mind that I'm closing down this blog. It was a huge help to keep my head on straight (well, most of the time), and a fun way to communicate without spamming people who didn't want it.<br />
<br />
Visit my regular <a href="http://criticalcreig.org/">website</a> instead. I'll keep updating that one.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSOvAO8rA_1y7CC-EEAGuEHkiHgSDRp0ATBf78QRtNwZyjeQLRVRJJysaFC-j9sS96rUhy1JLgp9K5cpPUx_AjXUucR6R2VqyngC9Tj0L4I893bpc2ZCsfXViKlhq18ifQVjemTAEnaHaq/s1600/Photo+Oct+18,+2+10+52+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSOvAO8rA_1y7CC-EEAGuEHkiHgSDRp0ATBf78QRtNwZyjeQLRVRJJysaFC-j9sS96rUhy1JLgp9K5cpPUx_AjXUucR6R2VqyngC9Tj0L4I893bpc2ZCsfXViKlhq18ifQVjemTAEnaHaq/s400/Photo+Oct+18,+2+10+52+PM.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6239118798410406414.post-69884594219434010482010-10-14T21:36:00.000-06:002010-10-14T21:36:46.809-06:00A Question AnsweredMy gross housemates, it turns out, are from Vietnam. I know this because the landlord isn't here. He's on vacation to Vietnam. And unable to give my my security deposit. Damn him for not communicating properly.<br />
<br />
Anyway, here's some boxes. I have the best to/from labels ever, and also the coolest fragile sticker.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6jKZTk6YWnr67FyRlpsflotMfECh3sxG5YnBNpF9hPhFY3fECzUSgPMmzxZIsnAYSfcjtJ90WbcrJZGv1GiZIir6E7JdMs_UH3Z5pF4MVIAmxb4_bDqoopwYNKxNBxTK5vLeI1k9VijCv/s1600/Photo+Oct+14,+9+31+59+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6jKZTk6YWnr67FyRlpsflotMfECh3sxG5YnBNpF9hPhFY3fECzUSgPMmzxZIsnAYSfcjtJ90WbcrJZGv1GiZIir6E7JdMs_UH3Z5pF4MVIAmxb4_bDqoopwYNKxNBxTK5vLeI1k9VijCv/s400/Photo+Oct+14,+9+31+59+PM.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
And also, this all implies I'm getting the hell out of here tomorrow! Whoot!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6239118798410406414.post-40824927053092540992010-10-14T18:37:00.000-06:002010-10-14T18:37:15.037-06:00My Last Night in This Horrible House<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Last night, I decided I'd make myself some eggs. I went in search for a skillet, but they were both in use.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEdwj04vcYD8dhuq0Jv2PMB3dNvhQkPE-V5a8DOqBlRHvQIysrO6Du_RBm3bIXuJ_5WX0DeOkf3aqeeVgTf9_clTWORvXzNqwPMAZ8SYqs3-oDumMvvvn7tWEu7usg4ZD4Bd9SCA1BLIbR/s1600/Photo+Oct+14,+6+15+37+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEdwj04vcYD8dhuq0Jv2PMB3dNvhQkPE-V5a8DOqBlRHvQIysrO6Du_RBm3bIXuJ_5WX0DeOkf3aqeeVgTf9_clTWORvXzNqwPMAZ8SYqs3-oDumMvvvn7tWEu7usg4ZD4Bd9SCA1BLIbR/s400/Photo+Oct+14,+6+15+37+PM.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
What you're looking at is a skillet with a makeshift lid. On top of that(!) is <i>another</i> skillet with a plate acting as a lid.<br />
<br />
What in the hell is going on here?<br />
<br />
I decided to inspect.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-hKeJiKOv5N1EZ8v5lMt9JqHFvGJTRVZ-55xmpwLM5sMLeBgZSQho2EVfsuvokw1I3xuNfViz3HwK5HFifdO2-gtOgXfCFEin5S5hKuiWgzqiSn2_tFyLTFOT4nG18QohFZMVTdLorXTi/s1600/Photo+Oct+14,+6+15+46+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-hKeJiKOv5N1EZ8v5lMt9JqHFvGJTRVZ-55xmpwLM5sMLeBgZSQho2EVfsuvokw1I3xuNfViz3HwK5HFifdO2-gtOgXfCFEin5S5hKuiWgzqiSn2_tFyLTFOT4nG18QohFZMVTdLorXTi/s400/Photo+Oct+14,+6+15+46+PM.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
I hold these bastards in contempt. Those are golf ball sized lumpy nuggets of some kind of mystery meat in sauce. They're also stone cold. Why they had to stay in a skillet, why they needed both skillets, is beyond me. Plus, it's beyond them to explain since they don't have very much English.<br />
<br />
I hate living here. I ended up eating some packaged spare food I had squirreled away for such an occasion.<br />
<br />
(As an aside, I've got another box packed, and I'd have a third packed if only I could do dishes. But it seems these morons need every inch of the kitchen while cooking, so doing dishes isn't an option right now. Filthy horrible morons.)<br />
<br />
On a positive note, I took a few pictures that show Pro DPI off a bit. This here is why I moved to Colorado at all, and I thought you'd like to see.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMhBuP0vTiXK66Rm3Qg_r7hS2pof6Tzxw0CYrCjSXu4xpBMzF1-jDxrZY2S3IWdGDdbgdxIRZqmJt6x8dinNFq930ZCVU3oLEP9nS9Z6wNd9q_xri9ArpQBk-n1GFqdjEbFxVcjB9kJnis/s1600/Photo+Oct+14,+6+21+40+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMhBuP0vTiXK66Rm3Qg_r7hS2pof6Tzxw0CYrCjSXu4xpBMzF1-jDxrZY2S3IWdGDdbgdxIRZqmJt6x8dinNFq930ZCVU3oLEP9nS9Z6wNd9q_xri9ArpQBk-n1GFqdjEbFxVcjB9kJnis/s400/Photo+Oct+14,+6+21+40+PM.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The 17-inch iMac I use for my daily tasks. Also, my coffee cup.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhji1PtQEpg4vGyloS-0spCPqroxIGh6zAD3oMndkgsxe7TMyWJ1rVZ2O1SvK8K1tXUcLh2DUqqCcXTXmIy8DcqGAPhsDJFWepwidEYQdgNuwWbSSmQGH4nN2Efd6pFMa0Np-nCKh7I7yMZ/s1600/Photo+Oct+14,+6+22+30+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhji1PtQEpg4vGyloS-0spCPqroxIGh6zAD3oMndkgsxe7TMyWJ1rVZ2O1SvK8K1tXUcLh2DUqqCcXTXmIy8DcqGAPhsDJFWepwidEYQdgNuwWbSSmQGH4nN2Efd6pFMa0Np-nCKh7I7yMZ/s400/Photo+Oct+14,+6+22+30+PM.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The photo department, including Chris. This shows all four of our normal-format printers.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpO1ftPXccnUh8s9_yI_WJUpTq1wuPsqzcqU60FAQN1Jzer4AMCIoQ8dttMkL8rn7rYneskToiASUZqWxXHiRJZvXkm66JoO-Okus0ZWYGON9mgGkLWCqbu6x6XKQsSQwkmNcIjWEjPwG-/s1600/Photo+Oct+14,+6+24+31+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpO1ftPXccnUh8s9_yI_WJUpTq1wuPsqzcqU60FAQN1Jzer4AMCIoQ8dttMkL8rn7rYneskToiASUZqWxXHiRJZvXkm66JoO-Okus0ZWYGON9mgGkLWCqbu6x6XKQsSQwkmNcIjWEjPwG-/s400/Photo+Oct+14,+6+24+31+PM.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;">The Dusts. They can print up to 30 inches wide and on a variety of specialty papers. </span></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRJYrviIRAZFF3JWsrjEfjrXOt6e5z8h-I2wfuCYC1DW2xAWqMzceci3Kp58l44R_Zb41mBIdu4r3vE-vEKKKtojbyrN35RcCJ8rrQhyphenhyphenb1EP7LxFybmXT_sbRQEQGhKHabnWCGUSQDDHG4/s1600/Photo+Oct+14,+6+25+56+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRJYrviIRAZFF3JWsrjEfjrXOt6e5z8h-I2wfuCYC1DW2xAWqMzceci3Kp58l44R_Zb41mBIdu4r3vE-vEKKKtojbyrN35RcCJ8rrQhyphenhyphenb1EP7LxFybmXT_sbRQEQGhKHabnWCGUSQDDHG4/s400/Photo+Oct+14,+6+25+56+PM.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The mounting department, including Shawn and Alicia.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWMK0W54dDLh7JQpAF4hmUNCSZs4tVdJeK-6YvC2EyRxn4Fwc3DAU03QHDOwbzGWW0zkFeBZHLzN0wWSb3L94vTAf_yjiUVWOB-gC42rHzExVUG4nQa65h8G9l8VObB6FGgnA9tlHWYQis/s1600/Photo+Oct+14,+6+23+59+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWMK0W54dDLh7JQpAF4hmUNCSZs4tVdJeK-6YvC2EyRxn4Fwc3DAU03QHDOwbzGWW0zkFeBZHLzN0wWSb3L94vTAf_yjiUVWOB-gC42rHzExVUG4nQa65h8G9l8VObB6FGgnA9tlHWYQis/s400/Photo+Oct+14,+6+23+59+PM.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The press. It was broken, which is why it's open.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div>I'm missing a photo of the finishing department with Dave and Travis. Once I have it, I'll replace this paragraph with that photo.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I think that's all I've got for now. I'm gonna see if I can do dishes, pack this last box up, and get 'em mailed out so packing the car'll be easier tomorrow. </div><div><br />
</div><div>That's right: tomorrow, after work, I pick Cassandra up from the airport, and Saturday, we start driving home. Excellent.</div><div><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHcrqmCv_YCg0ZFfTAMqM3NJKAm362lhYEDZ6HwzgbQSUOTmC9055BC5tLq7aawxt8KSRKZacbCfuyakqm4-3N7znN0Sx7Nbp7MoTDvBbNpg3V2LXCgsmq5OC7bkCkk1TPe7918D7dp_m6/s1600/Photo+Oct+14,+6+35+34+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHcrqmCv_YCg0ZFfTAMqM3NJKAm362lhYEDZ6HwzgbQSUOTmC9055BC5tLq7aawxt8KSRKZacbCfuyakqm4-3N7znN0Sx7Nbp7MoTDvBbNpg3V2LXCgsmq5OC7bkCkk1TPe7918D7dp_m6/s400/Photo+Oct+14,+6+35+34+PM.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me with an empty closet and full boxes. Hell yeah.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6239118798410406414.post-90055167136748286932010-10-12T19:49:00.002-06:002010-10-12T19:50:46.526-06:00It's Official. How Official? THIS Official!<div style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidsn3fORU4r2TVOKk_4oAAJqfAljpv7h46TVuKpi9h-0pvK0YtByheYZEtJrJmoMOU6vQI9QPFgqejvzl986lnzwrdBie-ORdpyHlS_KPIKdP00on3JlSBDZCcI0Nx1LPKpuCVHD-r02er/s1600/Photo+Oct+12,+6+57+32+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidsn3fORU4r2TVOKk_4oAAJqfAljpv7h46TVuKpi9h-0pvK0YtByheYZEtJrJmoMOU6vQI9QPFgqejvzl986lnzwrdBie-ORdpyHlS_KPIKdP00on3JlSBDZCcI0Nx1LPKpuCVHD-r02er/s400/Photo+Oct+12,+6+57+32+PM.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
You see that? That's a big box packed full of clothes, a towel, and a French press.¹ It's addressed to me, heading to Atascadero. It's in the back of my car, and I'm gonna eat dinner, then go put postage on it.<br />
<br />
I might be able to do a whole second box, tonight, too. My room empties out, and rather than filling <i>me</i> with emptiness, it fills me with excitement. All I gotta do is get through this week, and I'm <i>home</i>.<br />
<br />
Also, fantastic news, we got the <i>perfect</i> couches for our house. Cassandra and I have been looking at this style couch for a few years now, and not one but <i>two</i> popped up on Craigslist. Actually, it's one ad for a couch and loveseat. We got both.<br />
<br />
Here's the ad; oh, and the photo is the one from the ad, too:<br />
<blockquote>Brand New!!!!! Nice little micro fiber couch and loveseat set for sale. microfiber construction, tan color, and wooden legs .... The couch is in the picture, the love seat is still boxed up. Everything is brand new. The set is compact, which is nice because it fits great in smaller rooms.</blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZvMFg9Z6qSj0WNcrV7CtACwRvwt_UAJWPn6UQ-I09EYrFIsYn5n1tt5Hv3ix-9YOjrrMz06t2-xBcobA4mKIZ9e0D3RX-u5YD8JjvmPLbuZJwz0NhBt4avITQFlQNUyhcgKA5VLqMOTjB/s1600/couch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZvMFg9Z6qSj0WNcrV7CtACwRvwt_UAJWPn6UQ-I09EYrFIsYn5n1tt5Hv3ix-9YOjrrMz06t2-xBcobA4mKIZ9e0D3RX-u5YD8JjvmPLbuZJwz0NhBt4avITQFlQNUyhcgKA5VLqMOTjB/s1600/couch.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<i>Yes</i>. Perfect. I want to go home and <i>nest.</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
Or maybe not nest. Maybe <i>drink</i>, instead. Fortunately, we've got an awesome little liquor cabinet in the counter.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdlMVNi7tD60YNPO-0765WAUJLbXERSyfanzIiQMu6a5cqaX6XkiIeG70hSlry18HGFqoJS9WiJrgYKYfJJEtKhJSZ0alVpxPTbaKlicDQ37DPwW0XEKoYFF8_Ivm9kFnmH2F5to5AzNsI/s1600/liquor+cabinet.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdlMVNi7tD60YNPO-0765WAUJLbXERSyfanzIiQMu6a5cqaX6XkiIeG70hSlry18HGFqoJS9WiJrgYKYfJJEtKhJSZ0alVpxPTbaKlicDQ37DPwW0XEKoYFF8_Ivm9kFnmH2F5to5AzNsI/s400/liquor+cabinet.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<br />
No liquor yet, though. I s'pose that's ok because I'm not there yet, either, and I <i>have</i> booze.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUReRe1e2Aj2qW3VVRyJusB04whDxIIE47qPMVhB3gej_ZJGAySaZOGy10fLsaPuKTXuejqfFE3WYC95PKk0-IZ95RFbYJfl4fpjLiTOcg9u1ZgBXtPgb5wF77E6VpsoDYji5Siok4pN_T/s1600/booze.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUReRe1e2Aj2qW3VVRyJusB04whDxIIE47qPMVhB3gej_ZJGAySaZOGy10fLsaPuKTXuejqfFE3WYC95PKk0-IZ95RFbYJfl4fpjLiTOcg9u1ZgBXtPgb5wF77E6VpsoDYji5Siok4pN_T/s400/booze.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Was talking to Cassandra while I shot this picture.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
Alright, well, I guess that's that. Cassandra's driving the couches to our new house <i>as I type this</i>. Pretty heady stuff. I envy me. Except I have to do laundry, and it stinks to high heaven outside my door. Oh, well. Friday, and I can burn the place down and murder all the occupants.²<br />
<blockquote>_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _</blockquote><blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>1:</b> I regret not taking a photo of the press. I got it for $2.99 at the local goodwill. It just happens to be a Bodum Bistro Nouveau, which if you buy it new from the </span><a href="http://www.bodumusa.com/shop/line.asp?MD=1&GID=3&LID=738&CHK=&SLT=&mscssid=63BXA35H80NK8J8S4LXEUGP5SJWE7421"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">website</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">, is $25. Anyone want a very nice, gently used French press for $10? I might be able to hook you up. </span></blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.bodumusa.com/shop/images_products/product/1573_01_a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://www.bodumusa.com/shop/images_products/product/1573_01_a.jpg" width="135" /></a></div><blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>2:</b> I wont actually murder anybody </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">or</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> burn it down. But I will think about it in the privacy of my weird little mind. And there's no thought police yet, right?</span></blockquote>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6239118798410406414.post-74966209743325915142010-10-09T20:23:00.002-06:002010-10-09T20:29:00.051-06:00One More Week!I'm counting the days.<br />
<br />
Today is Saturday. Friday's my last day at work. That same Friday, Cassandra flies in. Saturday, Cassandra and I begin the drive back to San Luis Obispo.<br />
<br />
I'm not counting days, I'm counting <i>hours.</i><br />
<br />
<i></i>Oh, and Cassandra secured an apartment for us! It's <i>right</i> near the Atascadero library. And while small, we're creative and will be using the might of Ikea and the Container Store to make things work well.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrMS0ca_B55dUF-RUxh_NDQMOyJGrl8qkyl5uxIWzZCs1zthoF15aEa2cQWzNR_gpa2ChORv3Tv7FfINRfMk2_7YVM_MQoCn044d6hBTtZXIcsZP5isHJ471mVO7KSvALLGFOGOZLg-fOx/s1600/house.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrMS0ca_B55dUF-RUxh_NDQMOyJGrl8qkyl5uxIWzZCs1zthoF15aEa2cQWzNR_gpa2ChORv3Tv7FfINRfMk2_7YVM_MQoCn044d6hBTtZXIcsZP5isHJ471mVO7KSvALLGFOGOZLg-fOx/s400/house.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Where I live now. In a week.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
For all of that, there's a <i>lot</i> I'll miss about Denver. I like that it's a big city, yet traffic is only horrible at rush hour. It feels like regardless of where I'm at or where I'm going, I'm really not that far away.<br />
<br />
Then there's the people. Criminy. I am privileged to work with some of the highest quality, most interesting, lovely people in the world. I'm not going to get specific for fear of forgetting. Suffice it to say they're smart, funny, fun, and simply high quality people. It'll be hard to walk away from them. I've never enjoyed a group of people like this ever before. You'll be missed and regretted.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAyC7xx3613arwvqgo2f-5oJBgBruBWp1d0x1jFfKydjBsWIL1Yw1BR1NUIDbHD6ie680H9vIQsr5EbOr2kfOuJXx1uKiKY-ZB9Te7n5TggqlnMbkHQn6IRJiiKMzqpp8DCoPsTkc5zidF/s1600/Photo+Oct+09,+7+44+55+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAyC7xx3613arwvqgo2f-5oJBgBruBWp1d0x1jFfKydjBsWIL1Yw1BR1NUIDbHD6ie680H9vIQsr5EbOr2kfOuJXx1uKiKY-ZB9Te7n5TggqlnMbkHQn6IRJiiKMzqpp8DCoPsTkc5zidF/s400/Photo+Oct+09,+7+44+55+PM.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some of those wonderful people</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Speaking of good people, Friday night, I went out with most of them. We enjoyed a lot of beer and appetizer food and the worst margarita of all time. Then a smaller group of us went to what might be the worst bar on earth. The small, low, round tables were surrounded with chairs on wheels, upholstered in brown non-leather, and with wheels. The celling had weird cigarette smoke removers. I swear, the place was right out of 1976, and hadn't changed since.<br />
<br />
Still, the kareoke was a blast. I did the Joey Ramone version of <i><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nHjcWNcNRtM">What a Wonderful World</a>, </i>then later, Alice Cooper's<i> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PjMX1bvREXM">Be <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">My Lover</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">.</span></i> Dave and I spent the rest of the night harassing singers, yelling and cheering, and generally having a rowdy good time.<br />
<br />
Today, Saturday, I did a few errands. Went to <s>Kinko's</s> FedEx Office to scan my ID, and since there was a haircutting place right there, got my hair cut.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYYHMInXXxO8HAiM-_U6wlNCZOcfLU8JPOZXaXXlw7yawZghdJtVpyIo-q3btBADvgQvVUGG6dMyJ5bWjKuwNYCso7fwq-EitZc_ssU5BEX49jO-KaxYQHZztuCKrrO1jfuSlGO_cWzBIT/s1600/Photo+Oct+09,+7+44+39+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYYHMInXXxO8HAiM-_U6wlNCZOcfLU8JPOZXaXXlw7yawZghdJtVpyIo-q3btBADvgQvVUGG6dMyJ5bWjKuwNYCso7fwq-EitZc_ssU5BEX49jO-KaxYQHZztuCKrrO1jfuSlGO_cWzBIT/s400/Photo+Oct+09,+7+44+39+PM.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New haircut, same as the old haircut.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
This photo was taken at Lowes, where I got a very cheap curtain rod. It's called a <i>cafe rod</i>, and the three brackets, six screws, and up to 84-inch rod was less than $5 after tax. I used it to finally make my curtains hang right. I could have left the <a href="http://cpsinco.blogspot.com/2010/09/alcohol-in-colorado-plus-more.html">string between two nails</a> version, but I have this "leave it better than you found it" policy. So even though my house is an unholy dump and the kitchen poisonous, I couldn't put up badass curtains my wife made, and leave the stupid string.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTJXEZgQHNBILqxiF-19d4ZH0bZFK5gtmfZvuHstXIZIXQRIcgcA63Cn0YyQ4tm0RRpJ8JwHrkjnrEdia_7KQBBON7ymf8G3-_TZi6-5Y-5R845amT7QoDDhfP6buMkFM0oN_Boe5noMCF/s1600/Photo+Oct+09,+7+43+53+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTJXEZgQHNBILqxiF-19d4ZH0bZFK5gtmfZvuHstXIZIXQRIcgcA63Cn0YyQ4tm0RRpJ8JwHrkjnrEdia_7KQBBON7ymf8G3-_TZi6-5Y-5R845amT7QoDDhfP6buMkFM0oN_Boe5noMCF/s400/Photo+Oct+09,+7+43+53+PM.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Not perfect, of course, but I found the $5 kit just after I'd decided to get brackets and a stick of conduit. I'm spending this evening working on laundry, general cleaning, and enjoying my straight, properly hung curtains. And browsing <a href="http://ikea.com/">ikea.com</a>.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6239118798410406414.post-10620276642219653132010-10-04T19:59:00.001-06:002010-10-04T20:04:30.939-06:00I'm Sorry. I'm a Little Broken.It's unbelievable how much of my identity is tied up in all of you. What am I if not Cassandra's husband; Jaylyn's father; my parents' son; Chris and Renee's brother; Christopher, Blaine, and Rebecca's friend?<br />
<br />
It turns out if I'm not those, I'm nothing. And that's where my feeling of <i>nothing </i>comes from. I don't feel connected to anything or any one any more. I feel cut adrift, disconnected, <i>apart. </i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
I've got no meaningful relationships here. I've got relationships I actively avoid here at home. I've got nobody to share discovery with, nobody to do something with. Nothing's fun without somebody to share it with.<br />
<br />
I eat frozen, tasteless food. I go to the gym. I go to work. I watch movies. I've got no connections.<br />
<br />
I feel broken.<br />
<br />
I know it wont last forever, but that knowledge does me zero good right now.<br />
<br />
Let me explain what making a sandwich is like for me. It'll make sense in a minute, I promise.<br />
<br />
Because the kitchen is filthy, I have to get one of my cutting boards. The big one is best, the other two don't give me enough room to work. I take the bread out while I'm in my room and put it on the board. I put my knife on the board, too, and go to the kitchen.<br />
<br />
I wont put any of my stuff directly on the counter because it's disgusting. It grosses me out, and I feel like that's really saying something. About half the cutting board is for the bread, the other half is for cutting tomato and avocado and cheese. I have to do each item individually then put it away for fear of it coming into contact with the grime weird oiliness that coats every surface.<br />
<br />
Once done, I bring everything back into my room. Typically, the knife goes into one of my pint glasses filled with water. I'll wash that stuff later on. The cutting board goes onto my desk, the only clean place in the whole house to eat. I check email, read Daring Fireball, remember I'm thirsty and head back to get some cranberry juice.<br />
<br />
Along the way, I might meet my black-toothed housemate who's got far more conviction than education. Or I might meet one of my Asian ESL housemates who are responsible for the house being a disgusting smelly heap, and I am polite because murder is generally punishable by imprisonment.<br />
<br />
Each and every part of my life feels like that right now. At best, empty relationships; at worst, contempt. Even making a simple sandwich requires planning and logistics.<br />
<br />
I've got nobody to share it with. I've got nothing to look forward to. No one wants me. There isn't a moment of relief from this horrible crap, and I'm shriveling up. I'm toughening up, growing smaller and smaller, trying to protect the core that's <i>me</i>, defending myself against every goddamn minute of the day and night. And I'm obviously doing a poor job of it.<br />
<br />
I owe everybody who loves me an apology. I'm so sorry. Hardship doesn't give me permission to be insufferable or insane. It should be an opportunity to grow strong, and I'm not taking it.<br />
<br />
I'm sorry. I'll get better.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6239118798410406414.post-77724096217215361832010-10-04T19:00:00.002-06:002010-10-04T19:00:02.808-06:00No Everyone<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikUpC_gGUs35hx-S7R51sxUu79Nc6nOhiTUqNF32g2LoOesGLjEr4hqhIhEGOXj-LuFHoZo3F9hz1RIwOejADwShU4Pn_j8pDk3c6RKMR5uuyJpcR9tG6dMimKCclnFKRK-OQ3bJDII6cs/s1600/universalmanno.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikUpC_gGUs35hx-S7R51sxUu79Nc6nOhiTUqNF32g2LoOesGLjEr4hqhIhEGOXj-LuFHoZo3F9hz1RIwOejADwShU4Pn_j8pDk3c6RKMR5uuyJpcR9tG6dMimKCclnFKRK-OQ3bJDII6cs/s1600/universalmanno.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No Everyone</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6239118798410406414.post-42169791164809039362010-10-04T12:01:00.000-06:002010-10-04T12:01:00.744-06:00Despair<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://static.flickr.com/3245/2288409278_24d56e244c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://static.flickr.com/3245/2288409278_24d56e244c.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;">Despair</span></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6239118798410406414.post-48519158516057923992010-10-04T08:25:00.000-06:002010-10-04T08:25:05.675-06:00Disconnect Again<object height="405" width="500"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Z3w5eZRoOY4?fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0&color1=0xe1600f&color2=0xfebd01&border=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Z3w5eZRoOY4?fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0&color1=0xe1600f&color2=0xfebd01&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="500" height="405"></embed></object>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6239118798410406414.post-69398719987632570832010-10-04T07:36:00.001-06:002010-10-04T07:36:39.634-06:00Disconnected<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Wujwink7HnE7bj1Wctg0ObNpByZHL_K44VHCLlwUV5M5vTanFhNQI5ca7d7Z0PD0vTlCK_EA9GuKpx1D_Xo4SoWRDWLC650sa8bXR5mBL-snk_B6Z5Ivk7TL3SN8bIRJYskd2utDt3_z/s1600/disconnect.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Wujwink7HnE7bj1Wctg0ObNpByZHL_K44VHCLlwUV5M5vTanFhNQI5ca7d7Z0PD0vTlCK_EA9GuKpx1D_Xo4SoWRDWLC650sa8bXR5mBL-snk_B6Z5Ivk7TL3SN8bIRJYskd2utDt3_z/s1600/disconnect.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Disconnected</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6239118798410406414.post-91743026775073776702010-10-04T01:58:00.000-06:002010-10-04T01:58:15.942-06:00Middle Finger, Earth<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRnTQu_d9dq0HMrEgVgIA-yVbA9Bh8KoyP0I6bBxzzJZ3JMmhaHnsJhlJnckQH1hRSjCq7PcYTl1ROOq8_bp_6OdUXrMIoazsPEkmUraIZ8aD9CaMfZtCDMpVKIJMoEspjs0kHew6mfR_u/s1600/mfe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRnTQu_d9dq0HMrEgVgIA-yVbA9Bh8KoyP0I6bBxzzJZ3JMmhaHnsJhlJnckQH1hRSjCq7PcYTl1ROOq8_bp_6OdUXrMIoazsPEkmUraIZ8aD9CaMfZtCDMpVKIJMoEspjs0kHew6mfR_u/s1600/mfe.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Middle Finger, Earth</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6239118798410406414.post-71082524206658082512010-10-03T21:30:00.000-06:002010-10-03T21:30:27.538-06:00A Little BetterToday, I went to the library. The big, central library. It's huge. Four stories tall, and the kid's section alone is the size of the Atascadero library. Also, it's open on Sunday. That was a big deal for me today. I ran out of book, and decided to read something coworker Jessica recommended.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSXeziDA5x8XtT_bD-NtHG2bdA1zejLH7BsAOZGr1xZxyKIpX-pIbfW8HAUZou7-ilupiUtUxyhiv0SB21IXri1f8UdSuGP5ied5Rb-9l314i3lRLbZtgj1Yr7_93BOJJO9CMdduKdZu34/s1600/Photo+Oct+03,+7+37+42+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSXeziDA5x8XtT_bD-NtHG2bdA1zejLH7BsAOZGr1xZxyKIpX-pIbfW8HAUZou7-ilupiUtUxyhiv0SB21IXri1f8UdSuGP5ied5Rb-9l314i3lRLbZtgj1Yr7_93BOJJO9CMdduKdZu34/s400/Photo+Oct+03,+7+37+42+PM.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me out on the side of the library</td></tr>
</tbody></table>The book, by the way, is fantastic so far. I'm only two chapters in, and it's grabbed me. It's by both <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Terry_Pratchett">Terry Pratchett</a> <i>and</i> <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Neil_Gaiman">Neil Gaimen</a>. Terry Pratchett wrote the Discworld novels, and Neil Gaimen wrote Coraline. The book is called <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Good_Omens">Good Omens</a>, and is wonderful so far.<br />
<br />
Now, speaking of libraries, <a href="http://denverlibrary.org/bear-valley-branch-bond">my local branch</a> opens up again on Tuesday. The citizens of Denver voted for this big fat renovation that's sweeping all the local branches. Other branches (<a href="http://denverlibrary.org/content/hampden-branch-library-bond-improvements">here's</a> the one I've used the most) that have been renovated have all had about a million dollars put into them. Kind of amazing, really, that the people of this area take their libraries seriously. SLO's citizens are all asshats that think of libraries as, "that place where they hide the books."<br />
<br />
Anyway, the reopening is good news, because all the others are far away. Mine, the one I've never actually been inside, is directly across the street from the grocery store. One library I went to recently was amazing. It was the most <i>library-ish</i> library I've ever seen. All old wood and bricks and wonderful. It felt like Harry Potter. Here's the two photos that turned out. I was not on my picture-taking top game.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Mn0lstRtwkC_WI8ZMFydeOKLXjrChfLnb11_8LLqj-6wljuWsUdeVmTmiwEJ7WrF8ISkW_MUcaHBzAcWRmaGYb5G5WSNWsw0Hv2XRFru2fimxT_jph_TNRFTWrQhBVek84TAP-tY-bib/s1600/Photo+Oct+03,+8+04+14+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Mn0lstRtwkC_WI8ZMFydeOKLXjrChfLnb11_8LLqj-6wljuWsUdeVmTmiwEJ7WrF8ISkW_MUcaHBzAcWRmaGYb5G5WSNWsw0Hv2XRFru2fimxT_jph_TNRFTWrQhBVek84TAP-tY-bib/s400/Photo+Oct+03,+8+04+14+PM.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdQyB48PFcBG5rC8qwoDgB8GkMdxVpo3S44JHyt3222OSxcOlAA9ygrzQJHJcv2O7SzbWY4dIcufoxxS8XXpuAiw-WxPYWMdco8p-a1xR_2G82g2HvxVSx4LwIRmDnn5KQQGh0Txwj4ome/s1600/Photo+Oct+03,+8+02+46+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdQyB48PFcBG5rC8qwoDgB8GkMdxVpo3S44JHyt3222OSxcOlAA9ygrzQJHJcv2O7SzbWY4dIcufoxxS8XXpuAiw-WxPYWMdco8p-a1xR_2G82g2HvxVSx4LwIRmDnn5KQQGh0Txwj4ome/s400/Photo+Oct+03,+8+02+46+PM.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Fantastic. That building is a thing of beauty.<br />
<br />
So, moving on, the other day, I discovered that I was 150 pounds on the nose. That's really impressive. Want to know my secret? Live in a horrible house that smells bad, and only eat frozen food because you can't cook for fear of hepatitis. Food will stop tasting good, and you'll stop eating it. Then, because you've moved away from your family and have nothing to do and no one to do it with, go to the gym literally every single day and lift weights, swim, do tons of cardio, and develop the ability to do ten chin-ups at any time of day or night with zero warning.<br />
<br />
A side effect of this is your pants don't fit and your underwear become all baggy. And let me tell you, there's nothing the ego likes more than how the seat of your underwear sagging like a turkey's chin looks.<br />
<br />
So I went and bought new underpants. While I was browsing the sized and styles, I came to the following conclusion: XXXL is unreasonable. Don't people feel shame? This whole, "everyone's a winner, everyone's special" attitude <i>has</i> to stop. Honestly, it's not like loosing weight's been very hard. I wasn't even trying. Honestly, it didn't even occur to me that I'd lose weight at all. I just wanted to use the gym as an antidepressant. Weight loss just happened.<br />
<br />
And by the way, no one wants fat underwear models.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://images.whereilive.com.au/images/uploads/2009/03/02/f6b51cf938f286151b66cbb6cd437572_resized.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="209" src="http://images.whereilive.com.au/images/uploads/2009/03/02/f6b51cf938f286151b66cbb6cd437572_resized.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Actually, the <a href="http://moreland-leader.whereilive.com.au/news/story/coburg-underwear-model-gaining-weight-but-losing-dollars/">above guy</a> used to be in incredible shape and <i>was</i> an underwear model. Then, as an experiment, he went all fat. He's been filming it, hoping to turn it into a movie. We'll see how that goes. The article's short. You should do yourself a favor and <a href="http://moreland-leader.whereilive.com.au/news/story/coburg-underwear-model-gaining-weight-but-losing-dollars/">read it</a>.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>I thought pretty hard about posting a photo of me in my new underpants, but decided against it. Only three people read this blog, and one of them is very vocal about my nudity. So instead, I made it <a href="http://criticalcreig.org/wp-content/uploads/2010/10/my_underwear.jpg">optional</a>. ☺<br />
<br />
And as long as I'm showing off photos, I guess I'll include one of me that I took in a style Cassandra's gotten pretty good at. This is me on Saturday afternoon.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXZFO12ldLHpgY1lbnANzSICHPNSDw6y2llRa0yfHWb0obJKO1xaVbNemXPJl6pfPCRJqexzSAvUfBSg6X0z3IQzNdPoolbbboD4dzPo-unzX7_krnEuitksno9fDlKZ2q_-opsC2NS4x_/s1600/Photo+Oct+03,+9+08+11+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXZFO12ldLHpgY1lbnANzSICHPNSDw6y2llRa0yfHWb0obJKO1xaVbNemXPJl6pfPCRJqexzSAvUfBSg6X0z3IQzNdPoolbbboD4dzPo-unzX7_krnEuitksno9fDlKZ2q_-opsC2NS4x_/s400/Photo+Oct+03,+9+08+11+PM.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br />
I was stopped. At a stop light. Not just stopped in the middle of an intersection or something.<br />
<br />
Alright, I think that's all I've got for now. I'm gonna go read my book and die till morning.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6239118798410406414.post-32810971600664330672010-10-03T00:30:00.004-06:002010-10-03T00:36:43.229-06:00Something Would be Something. This is Nothing.I don't remember ever feeling so isolated, disconnected, or unnecessary.<br />
<br />
I've kept myself very busy and kept this feeling at bay, but it's got me now. Weekends are the worst because there's no work and the gym closes early. On a weekday, I work till 5pm, gym till 8 or later, go home to eat, read, watch a movie, or go to bed. On the weekend, the gym closes at 6pm, so I've got <i>hours</i> ahead of me where there's nobody.<br />
<br />
Just think about that. Or think back to being in that situation. I've got no connection to anybody out here. I'm little more than a blip to anybody within a thousand miles of here. At the very best, I'm a polite customer. At worst, I'm simply nothing. Nobody's angry with me, nobody's out to get me, I just don't register. People generally don't give it enough consideration to think that I'm even a fellow human being.<br />
<br />
I'm not even a void. A void would <i>be</i> something. I'm not even that.<br />
<br />
I was thinking of it on the way home, and I realized that if I died, nobody would know till Monday at the soonest.¹<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeKT_fekFN7CvVsbUGo4ueKkdSUvo-ARnAOZBMzsC_8CFzh9dYyAKIQoMSz-2Xso0CqIgsa_qcf3dCY31wuIFIE3EDn4vGKohSWB8WibYU5jWHDcAr6vAoviD4uMMoP_K1J9MZ4vELOcGp/s1600/gray.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeKT_fekFN7CvVsbUGo4ueKkdSUvo-ARnAOZBMzsC_8CFzh9dYyAKIQoMSz-2Xso0CqIgsa_qcf3dCY31wuIFIE3EDn4vGKohSWB8WibYU5jWHDcAr6vAoviD4uMMoP_K1J9MZ4vELOcGp/s1600/gray.png" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Self portrait.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>I asked two friends from work out tonight. Good excuses from both. I tried going out on my own. I ended up at an effing sports bar. There is no connection to be made at a sports bar for a guy like me. A guy like me with an almost aggressive indifference to sports. I felt like absolute crap. Nobody I know would go out, and at 8:30pm, there's no environment for a person like me to go to talk to somebody.<br />
<br />
Oh, that's worth a digression. Want disconnected? How about living in my foul-smelling house with foul people, of which the English speakers have far more opinion and entitlement than education or interesting things to say. They also have black teeth.<br />
<br />
I came home and watched, of all things, Rocky Balboa (or Rocky 6 for those of us counting). Then I tried the bar close to home. Some kind of birthday party was going on. The bartender was impressed with my politeness (and who can blame her, I'm good at saying <i>please</i> and am articulate and clear in the worst of times), but that doesn't count for much. Bartenders tend to be immune to patrons. But seriously, a birthday party. What terrible luck. It's a party with lots of people connected to each other, with no interest in the gay-looking dude with the bourbon.<br />
<br />
Simply put, I didn't have anything they needed. So I left. After politely asking to close out my tab.<br />
<br />
So: at home, there's no relationship. I do my level best to avoid a relationship with these recessively traited meatbags. At work, they're already looking to replace me, which is understandable since I gave my notice Friday. Out in the world, I've got nothing the world wants.<br />
<br />
I'm surprised I held on this long.<br />
<br />
I can feel I'm wrapping myself around myself. I'm getting smaller and tougher and armoring myself against the world. It doesn't want me? I don't need it. I've got my obscure movies nobody cares about. My unpopular music <i>nobody</i> cares about. My hard science fiction that nobody's read.<br />
<br />
Huh: I'm a hipster. No wonder they're so goddamn miserable to be around.<br />
<br />
Thing is, it's not like I can give up. What would giving up <i>mean</i>, anyhow? No, I have to keep on. Intellectually, I know this will end some day. Besides, the very core of me is something that simply keeps going. I'll keep going to the gym. Hell, the gym is the best thing for a mood like this one. It's punishingly painful and exhausting in the short term, and in the long term, I'm healthier and stronger.<br />
<br />
Keep your insepid, clichéd comments to yourself. I know them all: it'll pass (I already said that), I love you (you're not here), be strong (I already said that), I'm proud of you (you're not here), whatever. This is my site, my outlet, and you can't say anything that I don't know or that'll make a difference.<br />
<br />
I absolutely don't mean that in a vindictive kind of way, and I'm actually kind of sorry for being offensive, but it's the truth. Your comments are worthless here. As a matter of fact, I've closed comments for this post.<br />
<br />
On the plus side(?), you might possibly now feel a tiny portion of what's defining me right now: useless and unnecessary.<br />
<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;">_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _</span><br />
<blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">1: This isn't a threat, a cry for help, or melodrama. I'm not going to kill myself or put myself in a position where terminal harm may befall me. I'm using it strictly as a device to illustrate my un-connectedness to anything.</span></blockquote>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6239118798410406414.post-34447394828350460102010-10-02T13:16:00.000-06:002010-10-02T13:16:00.559-06:00I've Been OutWell, you all know by now I'm <a href="http://cpsinco.blogspot.com/2010/10/creig-in-san-luis-obispo.html">coming home</a>. Cass has found us two really nice looking places to live in Atascadero. One's bigger and nicer, but further out in the boondocks, the other's a little smaller but Jaylyn could ride her bike home from school. They both sound and look great to me, and we'll be happy either way, I think.<div><br />
</div><div>While I'm on the topic of moving back, let me see if I can explain my mind-set. SLO's a <i>great</i> place. Denver's a <i>great</i> place. They both have so much good stuff to offer a young, active, smart family like ours. It's sort of like having to choose between The Doors and Jimmy Hendrix. They're similar but different, and they're both a great choice. Either way, you win. </div><div><br />
</div><div>The point is that moving back doesn't feel like failure or abandonment or sacrifice or any of those kind of downer words. It feels like a good choice, albeit with another long drive associated with it. </div><div><br />
</div><div>In local news, I haven't written here very much lately, and there's a very good reason for it.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhymr4V7F9HYA_vMtmL_lCwmxUGhVHpvZPAyH7MdNpUq1HhYHyOeg0EMhtPAQOadQbELp3XgLbuaIUGyVapEpsIayWxhghOmS5DRtp-XMJFg1Ep1Ii6xoqAuieDPXV507GEtFUbCFkP7thS/s1600/happy+massage+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhymr4V7F9HYA_vMtmL_lCwmxUGhVHpvZPAyH7MdNpUq1HhYHyOeg0EMhtPAQOadQbELp3XgLbuaIUGyVapEpsIayWxhghOmS5DRtp-XMJFg1Ep1Ii6xoqAuieDPXV507GEtFUbCFkP7thS/s400/happy+massage+1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Yeah. You got the envy right now, doncha?<br />
<br />
Ok, just kidding. That business <i>is</i> on the way to work, and I've been laughing at it for weeks now. It's just that yesterday, I made the time to photograph it.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikAxSeNOk4DxJqy0qNHox7lYXkDY-WVIbx1NV_a-UxUfcE4EJuBjwhQjiYR41M0ocdENxh0MJVUANBL20Hpmsj2nm12Y21NDnrgwVcFe6jL0iFdLJ7DIr776GFIJ7f60Gt5qAYUUWZ5mwD/s1600/happy+massage+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="193" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikAxSeNOk4DxJqy0qNHox7lYXkDY-WVIbx1NV_a-UxUfcE4EJuBjwhQjiYR41M0ocdENxh0MJVUANBL20Hpmsj2nm12Y21NDnrgwVcFe6jL0iFdLJ7DIr776GFIJ7f60Gt5qAYUUWZ5mwD/s400/happy+massage+3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
</div><div>Don't you desperately want to go there? Ohhhh, <i>yeah</i>!</div><div><br />
</div><div>On Thursday, I went out with coworker Jessica and her roommate, Marty. I think that's her name. Coulda been Maddie. It was loud and I never saw it spelled out. We went to what might be the coolest kind of place on earth: the coffee shop bar. A full coffee shop plus a full bar. Why <i>wouldn't</i> you want that? </div><div><br />
</div><div>No, really. There's something for everyone. You 'n your sober friend want to hang out in a bar-like atmosphere? No problem. You have a Christian friend who wont drink? Well, as we all know, caffeine is the Christian drug of choice, so you're both set! </div><div><br />
</div><div>Or, drink too much, and there's a cappuccino ready and waiting. Not that coffee'll sober you up, actually; you'll just be drunk and wired. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Anyway, this place was called <a href="http://www.roosterandmoon.com/">Rooster and Moon</a>, which I think is really appropriate for a place that serves coffee (in the morning; rooster) and beer (evening; moon, get it?). They were having a trivia contest held by a group called <a href="http://www.geeksandbeer.com/">Geeks and Beer</a>. The idea is you and your team — in my case me, Jessica, and Martie, AKA: The Everyone's A Winner Group — show up, and a deejay kind of guy asks questions, we fill out answers on a little paper they supply, and the winners get... something. I was never very clear about that.</div><div><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijeoi0M7TPKIUKiGBSPyvFZEYVORoUU4Bykp4S09YXR9YYF3t5fRzn3bMZWpGy6sUzEAaf-ur_V_VlDADDpa0Qo8sNoUfuGhd3T1WJSJvLnxV7l8Iadvcl5ss4yFaGT7aw7_fssMoHt_xC/s1600/me+at+coffee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijeoi0M7TPKIUKiGBSPyvFZEYVORoUU4Bykp4S09YXR9YYF3t5fRzn3bMZWpGy6sUzEAaf-ur_V_VlDADDpa0Qo8sNoUfuGhd3T1WJSJvLnxV7l8Iadvcl5ss4yFaGT7aw7_fssMoHt_xC/s400/me+at+coffee.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">L to R: Me, Martie, Jessica</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div>We lost by a long shot. Too many sports questions. There was a round about the Yankees, where they asked for names. We wrote down things like <i>Henry Rollins, Joey Ramone, </i>and <i>Jack Daniels</i>. I don't think we won that round.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I caught up on sleep last night. Watched <i>Showgirls</i>. That movie was so bad, it was bad. The nudity was it's only saving grace. But the acting wasn't very good, the story wasn't very good, and the characters were one-dimensional at best (except the T&A, those obviously had other dimensions). I'm glad I saw it mostly as a pop culture thing, and I'll be able to make awesome disgusting references in the future, but it wasn't great filmmaking. </div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/a/aa/Showgirls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/a/aa/Showgirls.jpg" width="135" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><div>Actually, it reminded me a lot of Christopher's explanation of the strip club: it's <i>adult</i> entertainment, not<i> erotic</i> entertainment. And, for the record, I don't recommend it.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Last thing for this post is a little bit of humdrum: today, I'm going out to buy new underpants. Why? <a href="http://twitter.com/#!/creigpsherburne/status/26131939106">Here's</a> why:</div><blockquote>The scale at the gym informs me that I am 150 pounds on the nose. In unrelated news, all my underwear are too loose. Bad laundry soap?</blockquote>So, you might be asking: boxers or briefs? Thong.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6239118798410406414.post-69966121983501993662010-10-01T08:30:00.000-06:002010-10-01T08:30:27.435-06:00Creig in San Luis ObispoI wrote a letter today. Here is is for your perusal.<br />
<blockquote>Dear Jeff, Caitlyn, Lauren, and everyone else at Pro DPI:</blockquote><blockquote>It is with both a heavy heart and joyful anticipation that I must inform you that Friday, October 15th will be my last day in the employ of Pro DPI. </blockquote><blockquote>One reason my wife stayed in SLO was to finalize a retroactive raise. Back-pay notwithstanding, the raise was more than it occurred to us to hope for, and it no longer makes financial sense to move the entire family out here to Denver. </blockquote><blockquote>I wish I could give more notice, but I miss my wife and daughter so much it’s… Well, I miss them the way a father misses his child, the way a husband misses his wife. I’m thrilled to have a definite date I’ll see them in the flesh again.</blockquote><blockquote>Pro DPI has treated me well, with a respect and dignity I’ve not felt often. I mourn the loss, and will look back on my employment here as a very good time in my life. </blockquote><blockquote>Sincerely yours,</blockquote><blockquote>Creig P Sherburne</blockquote>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6239118798410406414.post-83458963960196986362010-09-26T17:13:00.001-06:002010-09-26T19:26:47.977-06:00Pictures of Pictures, and BeerI'm a bit under the weather this weekend. And no, not from drinking too much. Just from being under the weather. I've spent today writing, playing Mario, watching Dream Theater, drinking orange and cranberry juice, and I went out into the world to get some groceries. That was enough activity for me for today. I wish I had the energy and gumption to get up and go do something, but I don't. All I want, really, is to sit on my butt.<br />
<br />
Last night I did a little better. I hung a photo in my room, and my room's much better than it was. My job, a photo lab, allows us to print either five 8x10, or two 11x14 photos for free each month. Here's what I did.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPHfYllEgm1jzskhSjTZNbaMwDmLItrAkQmge0GsVLx_VFi6vStwdSAozTvOC_NAH8JqvB2ev-EtcMFDrXws7KGaMOKVVIGYBa_vfVXR_qzanXaWwU1hI1FT-ouRfKg4EV7H7-f6rNrIny/s1600/creston.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="153" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPHfYllEgm1jzskhSjTZNbaMwDmLItrAkQmge0GsVLx_VFi6vStwdSAozTvOC_NAH8JqvB2ev-EtcMFDrXws7KGaMOKVVIGYBa_vfVXR_qzanXaWwU1hI1FT-ouRfKg4EV7H7-f6rNrIny/s400/creston.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
The above photo, taken by Jenne LaCasse while we were in Creston, California, was sized to 11x28, then split in half so it could be my two 11x14's this month. I had them mounted on boards for $5 each, minus 40%, and hung them on my wall with sticky stuff. I pulled my level out of the toolbox so they'd be straight. In situ, they look like this:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyzsupf2NL0RczQybWJ6w4cARcl9W2q2gJ2ZMVCdVCfTXRUUXw5xvvjJvH9J4h4Y_ZEc_JHS-8NgSW173M-TLSL_RbPNp0vqA8WoipeN1AMOxNRvIt4WlxlFGwVbtHK_4hNWMKJWVtpZAO/s1600/Photo+Sep+26,+4+00+35+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyzsupf2NL0RczQybWJ6w4cARcl9W2q2gJ2ZMVCdVCfTXRUUXw5xvvjJvH9J4h4Y_ZEc_JHS-8NgSW173M-TLSL_RbPNp0vqA8WoipeN1AMOxNRvIt4WlxlFGwVbtHK_4hNWMKJWVtpZAO/s400/Photo+Sep+26,+4+00+35+PM.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiniFMRvkQSpH4fKrm3kiD0P77-v6ldUaPYhn-96RvdbhRSaPOrdfmgdsR6sPkT3tKrMTD_GG-q8TCKPW2ihnmy1NySYayQKXLULnhUp1ibbTlz17XIOh0xtPVNNf7RQVEvTeqcaJaLS_fq/s1600/Photo+Sep+26,+4+00+55+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiniFMRvkQSpH4fKrm3kiD0P77-v6ldUaPYhn-96RvdbhRSaPOrdfmgdsR6sPkT3tKrMTD_GG-q8TCKPW2ihnmy1NySYayQKXLULnhUp1ibbTlz17XIOh0xtPVNNf7RQVEvTeqcaJaLS_fq/s400/Photo+Sep+26,+4+00+55+PM.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>It's still pretty barren and monkish in here, but these guys help out a lot; and I love having my family on the wall. As I sit here typing, my eye keeps being drawn up there. It makes me feel good.<br />
<br />
Another thing that made me feel good was the turnout for my beer gathering. We ended up with a table of 14 people or so. A few appetizers, a few beers, and it was good times. The restaurant, Old Chicago, had a vibe very much like F. McLintock's meets generic large dining room chain restaurant. There were nearly as many TVs on the walls as there were beers on tap.<br />
<br />
The first beer I tried was something local, but with the word <i>Alaska</i> in the name. Don't know what that was all about, but it was very tasty. Next, and all I could think of was Renee and DHAG, was called <a href="http://www.boulderbeer.com/SweatyBetty.htm">Sweaty Betty</a>. After that, I had a delicious IPA, the name of which escapes me right now.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwqmSjWGUj44miCMJVS1Mza9g07IDXwBGtA2xDGjof3vnehFVNHR6dsP9qVEIEV6aHyw6GhEOa0s67554fW1MYbGPG2QJHT5rwQQ21XAzoQasaZIjY1uIRhMSO1tymfhr0kso-tjYnsW-0/s1600/Photo+Sep+26,+4+08+50+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwqmSjWGUj44miCMJVS1Mza9g07IDXwBGtA2xDGjof3vnehFVNHR6dsP9qVEIEV6aHyw6GhEOa0s67554fW1MYbGPG2QJHT5rwQQ21XAzoQasaZIjY1uIRhMSO1tymfhr0kso-tjYnsW-0/s400/Photo+Sep+26,+4+08+50+PM.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sweaty Betty on the left, IPA on the right. Italian nachos in background.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
They gave me a little card they use to track my beer intake and give me stuff. For instance, after I've had ten beers, they'll give me some Old Chicago World Beer Tour playing cards. After only forty beers, I'll get a bottle opener.<br />
<br />
Also, once my registration has gone through, I should be able to log into the website and see what beers I've tried, and what's still on the list. I like that.<br />
<br />
Here's me with some of the crew who showed up.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEzMPXro22tFJPDSK5noJEoZX6bm-jS6R_ubTERMi8H0qdsDTSPLkHhivDAWPHeDgE9WYF6U3yi-kNSUiDPuaYYmjqz5bRO4NIiWqPkaMlRKnwYxIKzKAjXdgau7r7weJeQQ9a13m1ZtcH/s1600/Photo+Sep+26,+4+25+40+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEzMPXro22tFJPDSK5noJEoZX6bm-jS6R_ubTERMi8H0qdsDTSPLkHhivDAWPHeDgE9WYF6U3yi-kNSUiDPuaYYmjqz5bRO4NIiWqPkaMlRKnwYxIKzKAjXdgau7r7weJeQQ9a13m1ZtcH/s400/Photo+Sep+26,+4+25+40+PM.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">L to R: Me, Leslie, Jackie, Shipping Shawn, Press Sean</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO7qngoV3l024bR-Ayt4g6A1i8f4l_uG9Vbzqhjw2BGvcDnEfs8hpAl26FAMgcJ5UqM6ANjSoy0T1yCqtDNugkcAt2dzg-qhKVusLzFmiqNDLvT4B3Kht1RsOVygNzxHjKmoboARnBR2Hn/s1600/Photo+Sep+26,+4+27+27+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO7qngoV3l024bR-Ayt4g6A1i8f4l_uG9Vbzqhjw2BGvcDnEfs8hpAl26FAMgcJ5UqM6ANjSoy0T1yCqtDNugkcAt2dzg-qhKVusLzFmiqNDLvT4B3Kht1RsOVygNzxHjKmoboARnBR2Hn/s400/Photo+Sep+26,+4+27+27+PM.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">L to R: Peter, Lauren, Dave, Ben — (I'm directly to Peter's left)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>It was a fun night. I'm glad I went, and I'm glad everyone who came did. It was nice meeting Press Sean's wife, for instance, and seeing Kameron drunk. We'll have to do this again some time.<br />
<br />
I guess that's it for me for now. Thanks for reading.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6239118798410406414.post-7617290947122206812010-09-23T22:35:00.001-06:002010-09-23T23:22:40.529-06:00Form, Function, and TasteWork's been hard. I skipped the gym today, came home and have been taking care of things I need to take care of. Sending emails on apartments, cleaning up, doing laundry, drinking the rest of my whisky.<br />
<br />
Which reminds me. I'm only buying the tiny 200ml bottles of booze right now. I'd love another tiny bottle of whisky. You get to choose which brand and what photo I publish. Christopher sponsored me with some gloves, but never asked for a photo or a story or anything. So I'm gonna go ahead and assume this is what he intended to ask for:<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJmwiUeuvwrxCyk9mRdSxXc8cpl9KvmEVkEhagaBtpyq33RFo4F4o5w28tNMpbDJivwumIhAQqwXCjIO_MRItyESzh2r1gUHel6wB5eRyH2TEHBoGpBTXT0pdwDlYYTRX0bUpRWSXjagq0/s1600/Mobile+Photo+Sep+23,+2010+9+03+20+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJmwiUeuvwrxCyk9mRdSxXc8cpl9KvmEVkEhagaBtpyq33RFo4F4o5w28tNMpbDJivwumIhAQqwXCjIO_MRItyESzh2r1gUHel6wB5eRyH2TEHBoGpBTXT0pdwDlYYTRX0bUpRWSXjagq0/s400/Mobile+Photo+Sep+23,+2010+9+03+20+PM.jpg" width="366" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coworker Chris saw this in a 16x16 print, and we all took turns taking pictures with it. </td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
Just think, for the price of an under $10 bottle of whisky, you could demand this type of fantastic photography.<br />
<br />
Now, speaking of whisky, I've been doing most of my drinking out of old jelly jars. They're fantastic! They're free (well, with the cost of jelly, I suppose), they're the right size, can hold salsa or whisky, vodka, or rum. I use them to hold coffee. You can make a drink in one, lid it, and take it out onto the golf course in your backpack real easy.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJZCrzkX5xP24mEgbpkiorTBwXOgmUxNhPV_or1jJ5BOXQHelIjeKip_MTncGJ7Fs3dHorTWizcPKiPRXO-hkg0Jkc96Ze4UWrWX-oisQulf5dQ54OEN8GjLZ5DksR-YJJPiUp8WeMamwH/s1600/Mobile+Photo+Sep+23,+2010+9+21+32+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJZCrzkX5xP24mEgbpkiorTBwXOgmUxNhPV_or1jJ5BOXQHelIjeKip_MTncGJ7Fs3dHorTWizcPKiPRXO-hkg0Jkc96Ze4UWrWX-oisQulf5dQ54OEN8GjLZ5DksR-YJJPiUp8WeMamwH/s400/Mobile+Photo+Sep+23,+2010+9+21+32+PM.jpg" width="398" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A bourbon-and-seven in a jelly jar.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
I discovered a new feature of the jelly jar as a drinks glass is the lid can double as a coaster. Cassandra, you'd better be proud of me for discovering this on my own.<br />
<br />
A weird thing happened tonight. I was doing laundry when Jake, the nice but idiotically clueless landlord let me know there's cable downstairs and I can watch TV down there if I like. I barked some laughter and declined, noting that I generally use Netflix and my computer, which is true. I'd like to share with you why I laughed, though.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnR0bQiwY1S4-y_y8EmILf2zCzcXI513CPE0F_kzZo5ZIfI3OCznkzXYIQ2KFjasq0jJvFFvT_hwBpyR_35klCwKxbeo6ALYU87SiCyyOuS_7wtowO32ucixl4cJ0KgBgAcVXaAUCMpZpX/s1600/Mobile+Photo+Sep+23,+2010+9+38+22+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnR0bQiwY1S4-y_y8EmILf2zCzcXI513CPE0F_kzZo5ZIfI3OCznkzXYIQ2KFjasq0jJvFFvT_hwBpyR_35klCwKxbeo6ALYU87SiCyyOuS_7wtowO32ucixl4cJ0KgBgAcVXaAUCMpZpX/s400/Mobile+Photo+Sep+23,+2010+9+38+22+PM.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is downstairs where the cable is.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
It's the single most cheerless room I've ever been in. Sure, there's pingpong and fooseball, a tv and an office chair, but it's a living-room sized empty space of comical despair. Go down there and <i>watch cable?</i> I'm laughing to myself as I write this.<br />
<br />
What an utterly stupid house peopled by utterly stupid people.<br />
<br />
Fortunately, I work with smart people. Fun, good people. I like them. And since I have no friends outside work, and many of the work people have few or no friends, I made the following flier after talking to many of those coworkers and getting good feedback. I'm happy with the design, too. The font is Din, but you already knew that, didn't you?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-nyKHPlDfhBIq_R7Kdmuk2vHB5BoPxRlR5HrYVgHb3CHRHVnbKBEgRTEyFGUk1I5eQUxX5AJMAsI20gBzT52n3F91b8weT41EJOrJ9CrWfKsFPncv_SbvEbL3vk2xrGUCp9M6YRdOPIzz/s1600/friday+beer+gathering+hooray.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-nyKHPlDfhBIq_R7Kdmuk2vHB5BoPxRlR5HrYVgHb3CHRHVnbKBEgRTEyFGUk1I5eQUxX5AJMAsI20gBzT52n3F91b8weT41EJOrJ9CrWfKsFPncv_SbvEbL3vk2xrGUCp9M6YRdOPIzz/s400/friday+beer+gathering+hooray.jpg" width="321" /></a></div><br />
<br />
I think there'll be a decent turnout. I hope so, anyway. I could go for a beer or two with some friends.<br />
<br />
I think that's it for me for now. I love and miss you all. I wish more than just my mom, Jenne, and Cassandra commented here. I'd love to hear from Angel, Matt, and Blaine again. Just a quick "hi," would go a long way.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnwqY1pkuAifIH43Uy-Ws6zVdl2IwQ9Je9owzWkHfcLC-lUsajEbNHEjEoZCXizTgPg7w0TUzqaZF5cauqKHK1q9RIBJhx05HRJFKw45ac3UZpF4cI0cyOgMcel5ECsLX2vktYaFobSr-b/s1600/Mobile+Photo+Sep+23,+2010+10+26+09+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnwqY1pkuAifIH43Uy-Ws6zVdl2IwQ9Je9owzWkHfcLC-lUsajEbNHEjEoZCXizTgPg7w0TUzqaZF5cauqKHK1q9RIBJhx05HRJFKw45ac3UZpF4cI0cyOgMcel5ECsLX2vktYaFobSr-b/s320/Mobile+Photo+Sep+23,+2010+10+26+09+PM.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me, just before hitting <i>publish</i>.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6239118798410406414.post-5859837946196304612010-09-21T23:34:00.000-06:002010-09-21T23:34:45.735-06:00What Gets Me ThroughMoving's been hard. I moved away from my wife and daughter, from my parents, my brother and sister-in-law, my friends and neighbors. I moved into a horrible smelly house I hate being in.<br />
<br />
A man with less to look forward to, with less ability to self-analize would end up at home with his videogames and Miller Lite. I've got a lot of things that help get me through, though.<br />
<br />
One thing is I got my daughter an iPhone. Her old iPod mini wasn't doing so hot, and a new iPod nano was $150. A new cheap iPhone was $100. So: $50 cheaper, plus you've got a phone, camera, email, texting... all the things an iPhone offers. The practical upside to this for me is I get some awesome photos from her.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiot7TS5NYC5nFpMnn0hFhhn-FJm15oyUBtXnduqA2LV-HlWyTsxx2VBcfLLOvzQi9wZjsfKvHJP0rTUh9xrZG3kNgQvIyWhiYlDZZ8KeznVa7jooRAELlZGz6NqxBQuPi685CSCkG7LQs6/s1600/proposing.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiot7TS5NYC5nFpMnn0hFhhn-FJm15oyUBtXnduqA2LV-HlWyTsxx2VBcfLLOvzQi9wZjsfKvHJP0rTUh9xrZG3kNgQvIyWhiYlDZZ8KeznVa7jooRAELlZGz6NqxBQuPi685CSCkG7LQs6/s400/proposing.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"They're Proposing," she told me.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRmlAJgfeKeHUEJfhtZ1rKI36LN7gTTP5d0SVHZTk12WY3Rg748jd18gUlxe5GN5kkfcZBRiDX2Y4PBVRJKKvA02Ma5K05zdx89EAe9G1URbS1KGwHzeurEy0XrygyV9wcGfZyxc_X_6yR/s1600/milk.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRmlAJgfeKeHUEJfhtZ1rKI36LN7gTTP5d0SVHZTk12WY3Rg748jd18gUlxe5GN5kkfcZBRiDX2Y4PBVRJKKvA02Ma5K05zdx89EAe9G1URbS1KGwHzeurEy0XrygyV9wcGfZyxc_X_6yR/s320/milk.png" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No explanation required.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
My mom also has an iPhone, and she sends me rad photos of the kid at soccer practice and during games. As of the time of this writing, I really wanted a cool photo of Jaylyn stealing the ball during a game, but my mom wouldn't send it to me, so I settled for posting the following picture instead.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Rt0swWK5CtvX_iEFSxBK_F6YltQbkmT2P_tYBjFlVUHiL0iPMV73yNZJSsciUgwyLBHEAZEd4jto1inXO01nmc-ZdW_wn9CT_845mPRs6jCEE6o5QMLedKrjnftD5yYISWWd5pYSjlpi/s1600/soccer.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Rt0swWK5CtvX_iEFSxBK_F6YltQbkmT2P_tYBjFlVUHiL0iPMV73yNZJSsciUgwyLBHEAZEd4jto1inXO01nmc-ZdW_wn9CT_845mPRs6jCEE6o5QMLedKrjnftD5yYISWWd5pYSjlpi/s400/soccer.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mine is the pink one in the middle. She's so damn cute and sporty!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>For all my complaining about having the wrong picture, <i>all </i>these types of photos are the right one, and I<i> </i>love love <i>love</i> getting them. It makes my heart sing.<br />
<br />
I've also been going to the gym, as you know because I wont shut up about it. Tonight in particular, I had a super-good workout. Better than the last few. Why? Because Christopher bought me a pair of gloves for weight lifting. They grip the freeweights <i>far</i> better than my own hands do, so I end up putting all the strain on my shoulders or biceps or whatever, not on my fingers and wrists, so I'm getting more out of each rep.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN9YQq9SBEAJw6W7hNQI1RxSBxOHuZqirt9ilPJVuSM5ukrfE-9F1FmtzgHbwN9LgphK0V1oYUrtJkSAhTHEQOEBSu5eBnBiAQzxX3WQCsE8VNGIQ9ifnwRKhEUhgnHfDElVYZEB5wEjO0/s1600/Mobile+Photo+Sep+21,+2010+10+03+34+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN9YQq9SBEAJw6W7hNQI1RxSBxOHuZqirt9ilPJVuSM5ukrfE-9F1FmtzgHbwN9LgphK0V1oYUrtJkSAhTHEQOEBSu5eBnBiAQzxX3WQCsE8VNGIQ9ifnwRKhEUhgnHfDElVYZEB5wEjO0/s400/Mobile+Photo+Sep+21,+2010+10+03+34+PM.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
The price was right, the fit was right, and they get the job done as well as could be hoped.<br />
<br />
Christopher, since he's now an official sponsor of this blog, gets a big say in what photos get published here, now. So, what say you, dude? More half-naked pictures? Maybe half naked but from the bottom up? Say the word!<br />
<br />
Music's another big one. Well, iPod audio in general, really. I sent the following letter to the guys at the <a href="http://science.howstuffworks.com/stuff-you-should-know-podcast.htm">Stuff You Should Know podcast</a> [<a href="http://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/stuff-you-should-know/id278981407">iTunes link</a>]. I think it'd be cool if they read it out loud, but I don't have high hopes. Regardless of getting 45 seconds of fame, every word is true.<br />
<br />
<blockquote>Stuff You Should Know Podcast People:</blockquote><blockquote>My job recently moved from San Luis Obispo, California to Denver, Colorado, and I moved with it. Sadly, what with one thing and another, I had to move out about two months before my wife and daughter. Without them, I've been lost and aimless. I'm renting a room in a house that smells bad, and I've got no friends out here. It's been really hard to get through the days.</blockquote><blockquote>One thing that's helped enormously, though, is the Stuff You Should Know podcast. My brother turned me on to it only a few months ago, so I've been steadily going through the back catalogue. But since moving, I've been craving the familiar. I've been listening to at least one Stuff You Should Know podcasts per day (more on the weekends), and regardless of the content, having you guys in my ear has really kept my Xanax intake down. </blockquote><blockquote>I still miss my family like crazy, but between old familiar podcasts and using the gym as an antidepressant, I'm not going crazy missing them. </blockquote><blockquote>I owe you a debt of gratitude, and thank you for helping me keep it together. </blockquote><br />
iPodding's a big deal in general. I use my shuffle pod at the gym, my iPhone at work and in the car, and I've nearly <i>always</i> got something on. Lots of podcasts to be sure, but also lots of music. The following is a song that's helped get me through on some of the really hard days. It reminds me of why I'm doing all this, what I have to look forward to, and it's given me strength and put love back into my heart. If you like it, I'll send the album your way.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><object height="325" width="400"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/KEbbESBNhow?fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0&color1=0x5d1719&color2=0xcd311b"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/KEbbESBNhow?fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0&color1=0x5d1719&color2=0xcd311b" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="400" height="325"></embed></object></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Then there's my wife. My wife's awesome. She's smart, strong, drop-dead sexy, and when she's thinking about it, a lot of <i>fun</i>. We have this thing where we'll both turn on the same episode of <a href="http://www.netflix.com/WiSearch?oq=&lnkctr=srchrd-ips&v1=doctor+who+season&btn=Search">Doctor Who</a> and settle down. It's really hard to get it to sync up good enough to watch and talk on the phone, so we text instead. I know, I know: "Machete don't text." Still, it's what we do, and it's nice.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">There's this other thing Cassandra does that's nice, too. And it has a <i>huge</i> influence on how good my day's gonna be, overall. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiueBE44cXJp8Yz475xNLxgtstEt0yA3FhG84_9ke6334W9CDSZRU9vAATnRia6FTGSrbrYIch5XZgY4HmbFmkzOl_gCOFQsJhdQgyW3nQmFWmByKv0oQ_AYovrkiA5M62uQi4a2CCu7zIQ/s1600/cassandra.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiueBE44cXJp8Yz475xNLxgtstEt0yA3FhG84_9ke6334W9CDSZRU9vAATnRia6FTGSrbrYIch5XZgY4HmbFmkzOl_gCOFQsJhdQgyW3nQmFWmByKv0oQ_AYovrkiA5M62uQi4a2CCu7zIQ/s400/cassandra.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">And lastly, I really <i>do</i> enjoy all the photography and writing I've been doing. This little blog has been a fantastic tool for keeping my brains inside my head. I like that the service, Blogspot, is a Google company, so all I had to do was sign in, choose a template, and start writing. I like designing, but didn't want to design this one. I just wanted it to be a vehicle for images and words, and it's done that really well. I like taking photos while I'm out exploring the river or the mall. I like figuring out how I'm gonna do another naked picture. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA0Tzn7j1OSnVGVYaMsi9Sf6rk7fXPSvEyaJig9uNH1vE0fZo8mjvSmFosFiqrBy068wO7CUvjMQAcmDh0bSxVC_KdnzXd-hLjRZ5ZONc6tqQCQ1ZS-EZEsMjnhf27YqT6F0t3eLkMmRwY/s1600/Mobile+Photo+Sep+21,+2010+10+37+41+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA0Tzn7j1OSnVGVYaMsi9Sf6rk7fXPSvEyaJig9uNH1vE0fZo8mjvSmFosFiqrBy068wO7CUvjMQAcmDh0bSxVC_KdnzXd-hLjRZ5ZONc6tqQCQ1ZS-EZEsMjnhf27YqT6F0t3eLkMmRwY/s400/Mobile+Photo+Sep+21,+2010+10+37+41+PM.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wasn't easy getting this picture. But you're worth it.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Thanks to everybody who's helped by sent money for gloves, leaving comments, phone messages, or other stuff. You're the best. Go you.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6239118798410406414.post-47242493774334998612010-09-19T12:15:00.001-06:002010-09-19T12:20:03.089-06:00Finally, Something Good About My House: The LocationI miss having two monitors on my computer. I feel cramped with only twenty-four inches of screen real-estate.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQFP8_3Go-E5ra6DM-jHyocq_E7hOsM9xXUXOkPv5lmeaDvyQ4bE4S_KRHBJj1jCNHx6XHJJdFf02FAPBv7kSPtyiD0tCqTGPvqx8ooj2432_HlxTeMlj-yTUUn4Ub_g8h6kvnSc0QU69Z/s1600/Screen+shot+2010-09-19+at+11.21.18+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQFP8_3Go-E5ra6DM-jHyocq_E7hOsM9xXUXOkPv5lmeaDvyQ4bE4S_KRHBJj1jCNHx6XHJJdFf02FAPBv7kSPtyiD0tCqTGPvqx8ooj2432_HlxTeMlj-yTUUn4Ub_g8h6kvnSc0QU69Z/s400/Screen+shot+2010-09-19+at+11.21.18+AM.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is me, making do with a smaller screen.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>I'm used to more physical screen, and now that I'm here, using my computer for more all at once, having only one display is actually a bit harder than if I were home in Atascadero.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8DiRDBdz4w0W1ds4Y04JS4W0fC_Q02JItXE0z-PZxSXxNDMGpE1ZhkNBYjj9v_2ESYDntY0dGM1cTiPetBL8OqvaI6TKT05aFv-XwfSfMUrNDHspPn5YKA4ubdOrFAgD8YJIkREQx92qd/s1600/old+setup.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8DiRDBdz4w0W1ds4Y04JS4W0fC_Q02JItXE0z-PZxSXxNDMGpE1ZhkNBYjj9v_2ESYDntY0dGM1cTiPetBL8OqvaI6TKT05aFv-XwfSfMUrNDHspPn5YKA4ubdOrFAgD8YJIkREQx92qd/s400/old+setup.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The old setup: 24-inch iMac, 17-inch Acer display, 3.5-inch iPhone</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Nowadays, I use my computer for TV, movies, video games, music, blogging, reading the Internet, communicating via email and instant message... you get the idea.<br />
<br />
Actually, I'm gonna take a break from writing this. Seeing that photo with coffee cup in hand makes me crave coffee. Gonna go brew a pot.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">· · ■ · ·</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Artificial break is over now. That break, by the way, never had to be there at all. I'm <i>writing</i> this. I could have smoothed it over and made it all continuous, but felt the break added suspense. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Yesterday, Saturday, I was supposed to hike some canyon with a coworker. He canceled, but gave me good instructions on how to get there. I ended up not going, but instead explored a bit of the area my house is at. It turns out my stupid smelly house is right on top of Bear Creek and the Bear Creek Trail. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Where my walk brought me into contact with the trail, there was a park. A lovely little park, of which there are <i>so many</i> in the Denver area. It's one of my favorite things about this land: you <i>could</i> crowd a ton of houses in so only a few people can enjoy the creek, or you can build a bike/pedestrian path and a bunch of parks along it so <i>anyone</i> can enjoy it. Pretty dang cool. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhabHXwtFY_uhw69f3bdjhdODoiktv4Byirn2EFmDrsHijrZ8b2w7r0w3OnAYRdiARUJ59WCfG_o1LwJ0Ha1_-HIa5h8BomDtLrCNxKWB-4mVIYjMhVGXbMgtGS1zRVcaoDH-oPCJAIIiWg/s1600/a+park.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhabHXwtFY_uhw69f3bdjhdODoiktv4Byirn2EFmDrsHijrZ8b2w7r0w3OnAYRdiARUJ59WCfG_o1LwJ0Ha1_-HIa5h8BomDtLrCNxKWB-4mVIYjMhVGXbMgtGS1zRVcaoDH-oPCJAIIiWg/s400/a+park.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A park. It's got a small playground, a soccer field's worth of grass, a trail, and directly on the other side is one of the majorish streets in the city. Why <i>not</i> have a park right here? And there are <i>so many</i> others very similar to it strung along the paths.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="text-align: left;">I took the path down to the river. There was a bridge with two girls and a boy playing under it. They were maybe ten years old or so, and I opted not to take a picture. That might have been creepy and weird. But I <i>did</i> take some other pictures while I was out there. Sadly for Jenne, none of them feature me half naked.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmCUFvyWRhNvgraHd6KXm02E9-uDByUjWe3HSR2TViYH0P5LApend04YmoVcB9Xokv55MmPOV6BNgH0rTVSeJkUVPUCJrixnC-LUuyXD1GR1syGGH90CGKhEIG1hg15655IVR6JDZMDb95/s1600/path1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmCUFvyWRhNvgraHd6KXm02E9-uDByUjWe3HSR2TViYH0P5LApend04YmoVcB9Xokv55MmPOV6BNgH0rTVSeJkUVPUCJrixnC-LUuyXD1GR1syGGH90CGKhEIG1hg15655IVR6JDZMDb95/s400/path1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYvlpNX4BTXKi5SAGlIZNZeKqfRVJkb4U9KjGYGkE_xdIQ2Vbg8mS0b5DTnun2dqatbMv5ehg60AfE6qfLQsKrOpUhxbJ8QDl1iive2pOV03QAdsvUOmLTWLftSDMxyDH7vh9SfP9EGZmE/s1600/path2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYvlpNX4BTXKi5SAGlIZNZeKqfRVJkb4U9KjGYGkE_xdIQ2Vbg8mS0b5DTnun2dqatbMv5ehg60AfE6qfLQsKrOpUhxbJ8QDl1iive2pOV03QAdsvUOmLTWLftSDMxyDH7vh9SfP9EGZmE/s400/path2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBdAA1zOE411dm48Z9NT5tQ_HdmStxYmmbTpiNQLgT5B_z4lI5iRtRMrkUBIzEZnfbVOcyV68ysnXnslig2e1WY3KOSm0WDQE5dJbqlflhNpkJoaz2HusVa2qKKoFVgArFQDsd0gGk8oen/s1600/path3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBdAA1zOE411dm48Z9NT5tQ_HdmStxYmmbTpiNQLgT5B_z4lI5iRtRMrkUBIzEZnfbVOcyV68ysnXnslig2e1WY3KOSm0WDQE5dJbqlflhNpkJoaz2HusVa2qKKoFVgArFQDsd0gGk8oen/s400/path3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioyqkogOzZsGcjF-7FugTbVOyo_A1ZtfCpsSn5toh0-bbQ8QJ7vAFitnpIiX75i-OQ5r9FOvvj-Pm2yFm4DfyhNJt1QnQkoXRuDbL5KZW2agqgi0WWMysrbZ6t3kjLE-Bh8lAVyfLpb6Ft/s1600/path4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioyqkogOzZsGcjF-7FugTbVOyo_A1ZtfCpsSn5toh0-bbQ8QJ7vAFitnpIiX75i-OQ5r9FOvvj-Pm2yFm4DfyhNJt1QnQkoXRuDbL5KZW2agqgi0WWMysrbZ6t3kjLE-Bh8lAVyfLpb6Ft/s400/path4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">And, just to be clear, all these photos were taken with an iPhone 3GS. I'm enormousely pleased with them. Also, I'd never be able to have taken them without my badass <a href="http://criticalcreig.org/2010/08/my-custom-iphone-tripod-attachment/">iPhone tripod</a>, which my dad helped me make. That was a fun project with a killer end product. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">I think next time I hike, though, I'll listen to music on my iPod shuffle, not my iPhone; having to turn the music off, use the camera, put the camera stuff away, and turn the music back on was a pain. And I heart my shufflepod anyway. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">I think that's it for this post. I've got a few things I need to work on, including laundry, and I feel like I'm probably using this post as a tool for procrastinating. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">I love you all individually and by name. <i>SMOOCH!</i></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6239118798410406414.post-78382144165491534012010-09-18T01:16:00.002-06:002010-09-18T12:19:12.996-06:00Alcohol in Colorado, Plus More Civilization<a href="http://List_of_alcohol_laws_of_the_United_States_by_state/">Wikipedia</a>, regarding alcohol laws in Colorado:<br />
<blockquote>Spirituous, vinous & malt liquor available in liquor stores and liquor-licensed drug stores only.</blockquote><blockquote>Liquor stores closed on Christmas Day. Sunday sales restriction lifted on July 1, 2008. Liquor stores and liquor-licensed drug stores may have only one location, while 3.2% beer may be sold in gas stations, supermarkets, and convenience stores. Appropriately licensed businesses may also sell 3.2% beer for both on and off-premise consumption. A small number of grocery stores are licensed as drug stores and sell full strength beer, wine, and spirits.</blockquote><div>What this means in practical terms is this: it's useless to buy booze at grocery stores. It's all 3.2%, which is silly. Buying beer at a bar is ok, though. Also, buying booze at a liquor store is ok, but I have to get it purchased before midnight. </div><div><br />
</div><div>So this evening, I went to the grocery store to pick up salsa and coffee. And I walked across the parking lot to get a small bottle of vodka. Yeah. That law is useful. </div><div><br />
</div><div>I went out looking amazing. My iPhone's battery died, so I wasn't able to take my self portrait in the grocery store, so I had to recreate it in the privacy of my own room. </div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRVO36PDeoA3agzCvVy56VBrbHD5XBySe6wsdpFHBmVvOhcPdVcVJRYM9kRnF5QKZeKTCB9oi-wpahz5ZBdn7zEggz7Hz0aPnlK-FpFa5CsqEzaCUozNajQTooriqI8jkH11wEVgh7vH2f/s1600/Photo+on+2010-09-17+at+23.22+%232.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRVO36PDeoA3agzCvVy56VBrbHD5XBySe6wsdpFHBmVvOhcPdVcVJRYM9kRnF5QKZeKTCB9oi-wpahz5ZBdn7zEggz7Hz0aPnlK-FpFa5CsqEzaCUozNajQTooriqI8jkH11wEVgh7vH2f/s400/Photo+on+2010-09-17+at+23.22+%232.jpg" width="170" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><div>You'll notice, Mom, that I'm not half-naked. Are my satchel, coffee, salsa, and awesome Santa Clause pants better? Cass said she fell a little out of love with me, but that's ok. She loves me a <i>lot</i>. It's like a genius getting drunk; he can afford to take the hit in brain cells.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Next order of business is being addressed at the request of <a href="http://twitter.com/SnappyAngel/status/24809564894">Angel Hood</a>:</div><blockquote>A package?? :) blog about it? i love sending package pics to my tumblr!! :)</blockquote><div>Anyway, when I got home from work the first time, there was a package waiting for me! Hooray for UPS! In it were some glasses (one died in transit, two survived!), an X-Acto knife, and a pen-cup to replace my Bad Religion coffee cup, which was acting as a pen-cup. But most importantly, the package contained curtains to replace my crappy curtains. Here's the crappy ones:</div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuHcgxt3u8t2Dn5vakIE7_Rz2hMwdaOZkzhG9NEsUPQU81UVi_Ml2ynd98byl7FlsJZ-HWbeFIyVu5Gb8ieqSG1utX5u8oUpRAbXyh9MIDH9_PtmiMZHIFDQTjonRAKl87Qqd2Mr1gId6l/s1600/Mobile+Photo+Sep+18,+2010+12+52+34+AM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuHcgxt3u8t2Dn5vakIE7_Rz2hMwdaOZkzhG9NEsUPQU81UVi_Ml2ynd98byl7FlsJZ-HWbeFIyVu5Gb8ieqSG1utX5u8oUpRAbXyh9MIDH9_PtmiMZHIFDQTjonRAKl87Qqd2Mr1gId6l/s400/Mobile+Photo+Sep+18,+2010+12+52+34+AM.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><div>See my reflection in the window? I've got a shirt on in that one. Notice how my curtains are held up by a very classy string tied to two nails. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Well, here's the upgrade:</div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUuDpuM3Swz5oswl8cw-7i8VjvZgrbL1AWSeSYJbzKzfgCWyKl7jFbYn7HuaFhecCA0s6qN3kBC_GKrTbFJODoyXE7MMzvwcaSQIs1mwyy82p53eclAytMqQHLHK6huI9MO2-5-mNFZDZo/s1600/Mobile+Photo+Sep+18,+2010+12+51+08+AM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUuDpuM3Swz5oswl8cw-7i8VjvZgrbL1AWSeSYJbzKzfgCWyKl7jFbYn7HuaFhecCA0s6qN3kBC_GKrTbFJODoyXE7MMzvwcaSQIs1mwyy82p53eclAytMqQHLHK6huI9MO2-5-mNFZDZo/s400/Mobile+Photo+Sep+18,+2010+12+51+08+AM.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><div>I acknowledge it's still pretty ghetto, and maybe worse. Well, kind of. First, the curtains my wife made are an order of magnitude better. They look nicer, they're denser (which will block more light), and they were hand made with love. Only thing is, I had to cut the crappy string to get the old ones off, and couldn't get the string to go back on the nail. I ended up tying the string in a knot, looping a zip-tie through it, and attaching a set of those bongle hair ties I use to keep cables organized to it. Tuesday, I will go get a proper curtain rod and hang it. I just really didn't want to wait. There's something wonderful about having my wife's handiwork hanging, useful and pretty, in my crappy room. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Alright, well, it's late and I'm tired of writing. I think I'll lay down and finish <a href="http://www.netflix.com/WiMovie/Die-Hard-2-Die-Harder/">Die Hard 2: Die Harder</a>. The first three <a href="http://www.netflix.com/WiSearch?oq=&v1=die+hard&search_submit=">Die Hard</a> movies are available streaming on Netflix, by the way. Huzzah!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6239118798410406414.post-64682145398834543792010-09-16T22:08:00.000-06:002010-09-16T22:08:59.145-06:00Boring, Boring MeI realized I only post about three things: my stupid house, my job, and the gym. I must be boring as hell. I must have intuited that, which explains all the naked pictures. I gotta keep you coming back somehow.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgM4_zkp4p6ohlUi_R6p9EvigQgk6mJ0EtHgmUbvpQwM0900Bn-fMMgv_QtwKCyP1Iv3d1Xgd8j4VLxNwr2BRzxNe71K-AUL9BonHbipiUEwTW2D-KMS_qXYXwLtq7XniZMzsSVJmtwYl_/s1600/cps_shaving_big.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="341" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgM4_zkp4p6ohlUi_R6p9EvigQgk6mJ0EtHgmUbvpQwM0900Bn-fMMgv_QtwKCyP1Iv3d1Xgd8j4VLxNwr2BRzxNe71K-AUL9BonHbipiUEwTW2D-KMS_qXYXwLtq7XniZMzsSVJmtwYl_/s400/cps_shaving_big.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me, shaving</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
Back in the day, when I moved to San Francisco with Renee and Christopher, I spent a lot of time listening to Dream Theater. They were a new-to-me band, and they captured the hell out of my attention. Though I've never stopped listening to them (in fact, they're the official band of my bike shop), I've decided to call a spade a spade, and I put their entire catalogue, including live albums, official bootlegs, and their best of, on my iPod. As I write this, I'm listening to and watching a live official bootleg DVD called <a href="http://www.ytsejamrecords.com/productcart/pc/viewPrd.asp?idproduct=36"><i>Santiago, Chile</i></a>. The vocalist looks embarrassing: too-pale jeans, no belt, paunch, tank top, black leather vest, and his arms prove he doesn't move his own equipment. He <i>sounds</i> great, which is arguably all that matters, but still.<br />
<br />
Not wanting to be like that when I'm forty-five, today, Thursday, I took the opportunity to talk to a personal trainer at the Y. His name is Steve, he's sixty-five, and in incredible shape. I'd be willing to bet my slugging him in the stomach would hurt me more than it'd hurt him. He teaches the ab/core class Monday and Wednesdays, which I'll be attending. I think I mentioned I want to look like Brad Pitt, right?<br />
<br />
Oh, that reminds me. I'm broke, and can really only buy frozen food and fruit since I don't trust the kitchen enough to cook in it. As such, I haven't been eating much lately. Frozen food just isn't delicious, and delicious food, like that served in restaurants, is far too expensive. I'm losing weight as a result. My Dickies have never fit so loose.<br />
<br />
I thought about making a joke about me weighing less than Cassandra when she finally makes it out here, but then I remembered her oral surgery, liquid diet, and flu. I think she's probably got me beat. ☺<br />
<br />
Anyway, Steve taught me some good posture for most of the machines I use, and showed me some freeweight alternatives to a few of the machines. The freeweights feel better, especially for doing bicep curls.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYw2uEeNsBhl5WH6AaCGSKLBJRIdJx7I1_9CJUy2MJB2OD5_DprcX_ZQ3Jrpg9aiceYIid6dOGRX4zmbTngZHoJibxf8HVLjvvpZ3g6MC9Gt29pyk2Z32j9IVseBZCZQEU7yjmq9LwV0qd/s1600/Photo+on+2010-09-16+at+20.36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYw2uEeNsBhl5WH6AaCGSKLBJRIdJx7I1_9CJUy2MJB2OD5_DprcX_ZQ3Jrpg9aiceYIid6dOGRX4zmbTngZHoJibxf8HVLjvvpZ3g6MC9Gt29pyk2Z32j9IVseBZCZQEU7yjmq9LwV0qd/s400/Photo+on+2010-09-16+at+20.36.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Could I get any cornier? Well, maybe. That sounds like a challenge!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Only thing about the freeweights is I've got to get a pair of gloves. I'll be happy to accept your REI or Big5 gift cards. I'll give you full credit, and your voice will carry extra weight when it comes to which pictures I should post.<br />
<br />
After gymming today, I came home and the house smelled bad. Shocking. There's some kind of congealed, cold crap on the stove, stinking a lot. I did my dishes, grabbed some orange juice, and headed back into my room to write this and take care of some other stuff.<br />
<br />
Now, here's where things get bad. John Myung, a New Yorker of Korean ancestry, plays bass for Dream Theater, and is featured prominently in the DVD I was watching. Well, I was sitting there, enjoying my OJ, writing this, and there, up on the screen, is John. New Yorker of Korean ancestry John. And I had a quick, sharp racist moment, where I just knew he was lame. Why? Because my gross Asian roommates are gross and Asian, so John Myung must be, too.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://bcsengage.wikispaces.com/file/view/John%2520Myung%2520Bass.jpg/54612152/John%2520Myung%2520Bass.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://bcsengage.wikispaces.com/file/view/John%2520Myung%2520Bass.jpg/54612152/John%2520Myung%2520Bass.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">John Myung, Dream Theater bassist</td></tr>
</tbody></table>I don't want to be like that. I don't think of myself as hateful or as racist, and it makes me sad my living situation is changing the way I think.<br />
<blockquote>Dear Landlord:</blockquote><blockquote>What does it say for you as a man, you as a human, that your habits and general grossness are fostering racism in your renters? It says you're gross and need to take lessons on being not gross. Hear me, and evolve. </blockquote><blockquote>Love Creig</blockquote>As long as I'm insulting people of cultures I don't understand, I think I'll mention the old man roommate down the hall watches some kind of Asian TV a lot, and it's <i>exactly</i> as you imagine. The weird Asian dying cat music, the weird-sounding spoken language, and sheer volume is amazing.<br />
<br />
Also, he surprised me the other day when he sneezed so loud, I nearly jumped out of my skin. And you should hear his phlegmy, chest-destroying cough every day. It's like a sitcom character: the Chinese TV watching, hacking lung, no-English weird-ass roommate with nine bottles of lotion in the bathroom, and a handful of chewed up toothbrushes.<br />
<br />
Think it's time for some more OJ and maybe a movie. Oh, that reminds me: I saw <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Species_(film)">Species</a> last night, and for a cult film, it was <i>terrible</i>. Sure, the hot blonde was hot and blonde, but the characters, story, and plot devices were all shockingly stupid. I wish I could unsee it.<br />
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This is way too long, so I'm quitting now. Thanks for reading, sorry it's so long-winded.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6239118798410406414.post-59936451838748264072010-09-16T08:26:00.000-06:002010-09-16T08:26:36.483-06:00I'm Glad I'm Not YoungThe latest game in the Halo franchise came out yesterday. A young coworker of mine went out on his lunch and bought it because his pre-order copy hadn't showed up yet.<br />
<br />
While I think that's fine, it does make me grateful I'm not young. Young people are stupid people. (Many old people are stupid people, too, but I think the ratio of young people to stupid people is nearly 1:1.) To paraphrase <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zaphod_Beeblebrox">Zaphod Beeblebrox IV</a>, "youth is wasted on the young."<br />
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Had I moved out here alone a few years ago, with no wife to look forward to, with no friends out here, I'd have made a beeline for alcoholism, all the while playing video games and getting skinnier and paler and weirder.<br />
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It's all about self-control, really.<br />
<br />
So here's me after some big number of consecutive days at the gym with only one day off. I don't know the actual numbers. They blur together.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqOd9RWRw18o_jok8H03dueU6pA0vnVs3A86rG0Gapl-qRTZrMjloRvsbwqZCgHWDfLYS389hwr24Z-nHCK5e14YYs3gZ7Q2pikjGVvpAZ6e99LWbVGBO4qCC_QWpJcMBEdvEGzh6nOVEG/s1600/Mobile+Photo+Sep+14,+2010+11+38+01+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="313" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqOd9RWRw18o_jok8H03dueU6pA0vnVs3A86rG0Gapl-qRTZrMjloRvsbwqZCgHWDfLYS389hwr24Z-nHCK5e14YYs3gZ7Q2pikjGVvpAZ6e99LWbVGBO4qCC_QWpJcMBEdvEGzh6nOVEG/s400/Mobile+Photo+Sep+14,+2010+11+38+01+PM.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Toning this took quite a bit of doing, I'll have you know. The iPhone camera plus my coloring, plus the weird color of the lockers plus the crap lighting in the YMCA locker room all conspired to make this as pale and weird a shot as possible.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
It's just about time for some smaller pants. Oh, I meet with a personal trainer today. I want to learn the intricacies of the weight machines a little better, try to get the most out of them. Also need to be working on my abs. I want to look like <a href="http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://backseatcuddler.com/wp-content/uploads/2007/09/brad-pitt-beach.jpg&imgrefurl=http://backseatcuddler.com/2007/09/03/brad-pitt-attacked-by-crazy-italian/&usg=__HR1j6ovdrhvhtXHV1OmNc7rNlC8=&h=441&w=320&sz=29&hl=en&start=0&sig2=phPXaYQsChdN--jyCFW8-A&zoom=1&tbnid=_3-nhssMVUjHvM:&tbnh=157&tbnw=100&ei=tSaSTPTODIyisQO5h5DACg&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dbrad%2Bpitt%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26client%3Dsafari%26sa%3DN%26rls%3Den%26biw%3D845%26bih%3D843%26tbs%3Disch:1&um=1&itbs=1&iact=hc&vpx=242&vpy=90&dur=7652&hovh=264&hovw=191&tx=78&ty=154&oei=tSaSTPTODIyisQO5h5DACg&esq=1&page=1&ndsp=19&ved=1t:429,r:1,s:0">Brad Pitt</a> when Cassandra and Jaylyn get here. I tell people my workout is based on being able to pick up Jaylyn and run like hell when the zombies come, but the real truth is that Jaylyn's getting into sports. I don't want to ever be an old fat dad who can't keep up with the teenagers. On class hikes and stuff, I don't want to be puffing along at the back. I want to be <i>leading</i> it with my beautiful, healthy daughter, who's not embarrassed by me. A tall order, I know, but you gotta have a goal.<br />
<br />
And that, more than anything else, is the difference between me and this fictitious "youth" of which I speak: I've got this goal of being Super Dad, of inspiring lust and passion in my wife, and I'm using the intervening time to be sure it happens. As a kid, my goal would have been... I don't know. Assuming I'd have had the intelligence to have a goal at all, I'm sure it would have been <i>"BEER!!!" </i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
Thanks for reading, all you adults. Kids can eff off, by the way. ;)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6239118798410406414.post-50226667401116499772010-09-15T08:08:00.000-06:002010-09-15T08:08:11.599-06:00Short Post About NothingThis is my drive to work.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHUFPLmUKuw8yYzyOUqHmBCSizPdEs_radA0Q-KibLhEjU8SshYkU7ia9gzn7k2uBDppXPudfQmcAYrP7EEiuYl53lhPQhlh5P532dkx1FH_1v9qvIiNkCoYTP7Pz5jk2pdfn325nEs7lC/s1600/Mobile+Photo+Sep+14,+2010+6+53+08+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHUFPLmUKuw8yYzyOUqHmBCSizPdEs_radA0Q-KibLhEjU8SshYkU7ia9gzn7k2uBDppXPudfQmcAYrP7EEiuYl53lhPQhlh5P532dkx1FH_1v9qvIiNkCoYTP7Pz5jk2pdfn325nEs7lC/s400/Mobile+Photo+Sep+14,+2010+6+53+08+PM.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I toned it a bit, but the way it looks here is the way it feels to drive it.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
The printer techs were hard at work when I clocked in. We've been running with only three of our six printers since moving here, and the other three showed up Monday. By the end of the day today, one of the three new arrivals was working, and we should have at least one more by tomorrow.<br />
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Sound pretty boring? That's a good thing. It's exactly what I need out here. I wake up and go to work, then go to the gym, then come home and watch a movie, read my book, and go to bed. Varying from that too much messes me up pretty good. I tend to get a little out of sorts emotionally, and find ways of being lazy and wrong.<br />
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In other news, the downstairs bathroom, the only one with a shower in it, has had a big pile of gross flattened toothbrushes sort of piled up on top of the soap. This is an upgrade:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSqMAdfMFc1lcT0PMvKIIlSFJL2W4-0Qr2FjItZMBflPwgm1gIKUr-VrAp1hnfTVyFfg1iBjopyoMxM89p9JsSEzOsKzP3sMc_pxe60mmW7DZnhcL9xvMeOCCxifIKDrqQvdkio9GfRyWc/s1600/Mobile+Photo+Sep+14,+2010+7+13+36+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSqMAdfMFc1lcT0PMvKIIlSFJL2W4-0Qr2FjItZMBflPwgm1gIKUr-VrAp1hnfTVyFfg1iBjopyoMxM89p9JsSEzOsKzP3sMc_pxe60mmW7DZnhcL9xvMeOCCxifIKDrqQvdkio9GfRyWc/s400/Mobile+Photo+Sep+14,+2010+7+13+36+PM.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Stay classy, Golden Way.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">That's all I've got right now. I have a self-portrait I took for Cassandra of me alone in the locker room at the gym, but it's got a smidge of butt-cleavage, so I'm not posting it for fear of alienating my readership. On the other hand, if you're into that kind of thing, I've still got the photo and can post it any time. Just sayin'.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6239118798410406414.post-42996125968033721762010-09-14T18:26:00.002-06:002010-09-14T18:28:01.525-06:00How to Post a Comment on This Here Website<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhszMA43YV4Bt7WrHkEflOhrpGdnyg-jaJokV8uVe5r3jUMJMOw_hoBmCJ3cl7wjRlY1iAx4R-ZnHCrSNhbb_zGCCYHuAOqYxXlDQxQBBr0yUeNPrpSa2Jr12T4bpLYmPWdujFtb7mmgCac/s1600/Screen+shot+2010-09-14+at+6.24.09+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhszMA43YV4Bt7WrHkEflOhrpGdnyg-jaJokV8uVe5r3jUMJMOw_hoBmCJ3cl7wjRlY1iAx4R-ZnHCrSNhbb_zGCCYHuAOqYxXlDQxQBBr0yUeNPrpSa2Jr12T4bpLYmPWdujFtb7mmgCac/s1600/Screen+shot+2010-09-14+at+6.24.09+PM.png" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The above is a picture. Don't try to leave a comment inside the picture.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
There you go. Two extra clicks, and you're done. Good job!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6239118798410406414.post-5341957566612827292010-09-14T07:46:00.001-06:002010-09-14T08:22:03.345-06:00The Yardstick of CivilizationFriday, I bought a <a href="http://www.kitchencollection.com/Temp_Products.cfm?BrandType=Y&Brand=Proctor%20Silex&catname=Small%20Appliances&CatType=N&SCatType=Y&SCategory=Coffee/Espresso&SSCatType=N&SSCategory=Coffee%20Makers&">coffee maker</a>. I didn't use it all weekend because it was the weekend, and that's when I use my French press. But I sure did use it Monday and today.<br />
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On my <a href="http://criticalcreig.org/">normal website</a>, I posted a few times on <a href="http://criticalcreig.org/?s=civet&submit=search">civet poop</a> coffee. Is farmed stuff legit, why would you want it at all, how much does it cost, etc. I concluded this is a first world problem. <a href="http://ssfcambodia.org/index.php?page=country-context">Cambodia</a>, for instance, does not care one iota about the quality of their civet poop coffee. I sincerely doubt many Cambodians care much about coffee at all right now.<br />
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The point is, I think, that while I'm not insane, rich, or out of problems enough to care about civet poop coffee, I <i>do</i> care about having a pot of it in the mornings.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdKUYdXkRNEkwtUkDpgzjJJbIn6rTxruDA1aRmxtwHCqs4exN7CHMdKBU5hieLpKkpmvwI6lleT0qd9_JLCljh0MB4JhLal6MtF9k183EN0lZ0my3puz3m_SlUyCXJ0H9CwJei3RJMvtms/s1600/Photo+on+2010-09-14+at+07.19+%232.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdKUYdXkRNEkwtUkDpgzjJJbIn6rTxruDA1aRmxtwHCqs4exN7CHMdKBU5hieLpKkpmvwI6lleT0qd9_JLCljh0MB4JhLal6MtF9k183EN0lZ0my3puz3m_SlUyCXJ0H9CwJei3RJMvtms/s400/Photo+on+2010-09-14+at+07.19+%232.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
At the moment, I buy my coffee sort of weekly. I don't have a grinder out here in my horrible house, so I have to grind beans at the grocery store. I don't want to store a large amount of ground beans since grinds seem to go bad faster than beans do. So I grind my beans, take them home, and stick them into one of these:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitliX0CwhwCXtJOie1G4Oen3CIHwG4dB6AMUf6gITt78c0wyuzwhu70ZsZiQoVBGsU4r4WG7rlZvhtXW8LQHmlvPnHSPCOgkW2j2mpGidQFKwVHXkxHfbN5ipn6kihcan8tQTcT5Sotp7l/s1600/Mobile+Photo+Sep+14,+2010+7+34+28+AM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="302" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitliX0CwhwCXtJOie1G4Oen3CIHwG4dB6AMUf6gITt78c0wyuzwhu70ZsZiQoVBGsU4r4WG7rlZvhtXW8LQHmlvPnHSPCOgkW2j2mpGidQFKwVHXkxHfbN5ipn6kihcan8tQTcT5Sotp7l/s400/Mobile+Photo+Sep+14,+2010+7+34+28+AM.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Anybody with a better idea for storing coffee grounds (Renee), feel free to let me know.<br />
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So for all my complaints about my stupid smelly house, I'm pretty civilized. When I got here, the only light in the room was in the closet. While it's cool having a light in my closet, having that be the <i>only</i> light wasn't so hot. My lamp is operated by a normal wall switch, and I like that. Also when I first moved in, I had a bed, desk, and a tv tray I brought with me as a bedside table. I've added shelves and a small table. Not to mention cardboard in the window, cutlery, vodka, local beer, and my newly acquired coffee maker and toaster.<br />
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That is, of course, in addition to my 24-inch iMac, iPhone 3GS, and color laser printer.<br />
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So I'm reasonably civilized: I can post to the Internet, watch Futurama and Reno 911, take photos and send emails. I'm still not <i>happy</i>, and wont be till my family's out here. But civilization (and a decent cup of coffee in one of the rad coffee cups Jaylyn made for me) certainly takes the sting out of being alone.<br />
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Here's a photo of me in the shower. ☺<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFUG6KgxYXT2S0Ih1F0hv9RIWdQuQvvR2kjxnDkqMxX5yKMczi6D0duBbmRs4Tc085O9qwQSsiwPd9Okqxt6IP6QU7i7K9WpxUDGrr08j2vCASdqdRtcGlSutIDT-j73vP7KxUipd4UNZt/s1600/shower.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFUG6KgxYXT2S0Ih1F0hv9RIWdQuQvvR2kjxnDkqMxX5yKMczi6D0duBbmRs4Tc085O9qwQSsiwPd9Okqxt6IP6QU7i7K9WpxUDGrr08j2vCASdqdRtcGlSutIDT-j73vP7KxUipd4UNZt/s320/shower.JPG" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5