Publius & Co.

Lunchtime reading.

I used to subscribe to GQ magazine, many years ago, in my dandy days (that would be early/mid 20's). After awhile, I let my subscription die, but I recently resubscribed.

I have to say, it's gotten better, except for one thing: I can't find the furschlugginer Table of Contents to save my life!

Anyway, I want to post this excerpt, from GQ's interview with The Rock, he talks about vulnerability and his new movie, The Rundown:

That's why you saw the Rock getting pinned more times than any other champion in WWF history. I always believed that my seeming flawed and constantly in jeopardy was the key to getting the fans behind me. And that's why in The Rundown, at a moment when I'm strung upside down with my hands tied behind my back, you'll see a renegade Ethel howler monkey humping my face.

The lengths I go to, to sneak in an Ethel joke.

Happy birthday to me.

First of all, thanks to all of those who left me birthday wishes. I'm trying to remember when I told you the date...but when you get to be my age*, memory is one of the first thing to go.

So, being 1. a guy, and it being 2. football season, I must've sat around the house, unshaved & unshowered, in nothing but my lucky rocketship underwear, watching football and drinking beer, right?

No, truth be told, I missed the first half, and most of the third quarter of the Redskins win. I did what most would consider girlie stuff, and I loved it (in fact, I heard some guy, apparently being forced into doing the same girlie stuff, complaining, "You know I'm missing the football game for this?" Philistine.).

The gf took me downtown for brunch, then we went to the Textile Museum, and I loved it.

I do tie-dye for fun (not for profit. That would turn it into a job). I don't do it as often as I'd like to, but tie-dyed baby clothes are my traditional gift of mine to friends who've just had kids. I'm interested in trying batik someday, and the Textile Museum's current exhibit on The Art of Resist Dyeing prompted my visit--I figured there'd be lots of batik pieces on display. The gf wanted to see the exhibit of Navajo blankets; it worked out well for the both of us.

It was an interesting exhibit. My favorite piece was a Japanese coat that was dyed using a shibori technique (in particular, a variation on tie-dye) where little rectangles were tied throughout the entire coat (save for a few large squares that were tied with a different decorative design) and the coat dyed. When I say little, I mean little: the rectangles were probably 4mm X 6 mm, and were about 1 or 2 mm's apart. This gave the coat a nubbly appearance, and I would've loved to have run my hands over it to see if it was, in fact, not smooth but it was behind glass, right next to the DO NOT TOUCH signs.

Y'all bored yet?

There were two disappointments. First, I would've liked to have seen part of the exhibit dedicated to how some of the pieces were made (I admit it would've been impractical, but I can dream)(actually, there was one small demo setup, for a technique that can be used for tapestrys). Second, there were only about a dozen pieces exhibited, almost certainly because the Textile Museum is quite small.

Anyway, beer was involved yesterday, kinda. The Textile Museum is two buildings down from the Irish Embassy. Click on the link--see the little harp? That harp was right on the front thingy (I don't know the architectural term--you'll have to just use your imagination) of the building, and I noticed it first. I commented, "That looks just like the harp on a bottle of Harp!"

The gf pointed to the three recycling bins in front of the Embassy. "And it looks like they drink a lot of it, too." Sadly, I hadn't brought my camera (because they're not allowed in the museum--what would've been the point?) so I didn't get a picture...but it's probably about a twenty-minute walk from work...hmmm....

*But I'm not as old as Ted. Heh.

Troll infestation.

My favorite rat forum has been hit with a troll infestation. Somebody posted a link to an mpeg that rat people won't like (you don't want the details--just trust me for once) and...the moderators usually choose weekends to have lives.

There are kids on that forum, for Pete's sake!

I'm royally pissed off right now. If I find this guy...he'll wish I hadn't.

Following the Links

My computer at work was upgraded. Consequently, I'm transferring stuff I kept locally to the new machine (using my Creative Labs Nomad MuVo as a thumb drive--Thanks, sweetie!) and I just transferred my bookmarks.

Time to sort thru them, and get rid of dead and old links...and I stumbled across some stuff that is interesting in general, and probably really interesting to Ted. And I even remember how I found them...

First stop is Deep Cold, by Dan Roam. One day, I went to get my hair cut and I was flipping thru Popular Science, which had a sidebar of interesting links. I don't remember the exact description used, but the URL was easy enough to remember. Deep Cold recreates some little-known abandoned or proposed spacecraft, lost in the US/Soviet Space Race of the 60's. Really neat, and Mr. Roam's animations are fabulous. He has a fantastic feel for cinematography, and I recognized the movie from which he grabbed some dialogue (Marooned, which I really enjoyed as a kid).

Deep Cold led me to Man Conquers Space. If you were a kid in an American school in the 60's, you know we were supposed to have several Space Stations (the wagon-wheeled type) floating above the Earth, colonies on the Moon, and research teams on Mars by now. You also know none of that has come to pass.

(Yet.)

In the 50's Collier's magazine published a series of articles by Dr. Wernher von Braun, which gave us kids in the 60's our crazy ideas about lunar colonies and space stations and all that expensive stuff. Most of us (me, for example) realized not in my lifetime; other's haven't (Ted, and more power to you), but the guys at Man Conquers Space are pretending it did. They're making a documentary of NCA's (National Council of Astronautics) successes of the last ten years (if you go along with them and pretend it's 1969) and discusses the upcoming mission to Jupiter. If I had a couple of spare million dollars, I'd invest it in this movie.

(Special to Ted: You've got to build a Saturn Shuttle).

Of course, I had to find the Collier's magazines that inspired Man Conquers Space. Later, I'll probably go to eBay and buy them; for now, though, enjoy the Gallery of Collier's Cover Space Technology. Absolutely delightful artwork that launched a thousand dreams...and since it's the Johnson Spaceflight Center's official home page, you can look at tons of other stuff, like Dr. von Braun's sketches of proposed Mars exploration vehicles.

OK, lunch is over for me...but during your next lunchtime surfing trip, take a look.

This is the Best Thing I've Ever Found on the Web

Viking Kittens

Furthermore, for the record...

I don't hate my gf's favorite joke. It's just when I hear it, I go, "Heh," then I continue on with my life. I just don't roll around on the floor lauging hysterically for twenty minutes every time I think of it.

More joking around. Kind of.

For the record, it should be noted fellow Munuvian Cherry has been posting her Friday Bad Joke since...time immemorial, I guess, which includes this joke. That particular joke features a leopard, a monkey, and a dachshund.

It's got a dachshund in it, people! A weiner-dog! Any joke with a weiner-dog in it is automatically a scream!

New Blog Showcase Votes

King of Fools

Tom's Nap Room (even if he is a follower of Ethel, and should be reminded Ethel is cruel to monkeys on a daily basis!).

WAR! News

Why can't Ethel get a girl? It's the lack of rosy cheeks.

More chain joke blogging

Now the gf is getting into the act.

Correction!

In my peanut butter post yesterday, I said rats love peanut butter. It's true, but the gf reminded me: It's not a good idea to give peanut butter to your rats because it's really sticky and they might choke on it. Whole peanuts in moderation are good; they gnaw at them and it helps keep their teeth trimmed, but too many and they'll get all scabby because of the high protein content and you don't want scabby rats.

I regret the error, especially if you've fed some peanut butter to your rats and they choked because you read my post.

Check out the comments to that post. James at Parkway Rest Stop (who inspired my peanut butter post) used to work in a psychopharmacology lab and has some interesting insights into what rats like and into what rats really like.

Lunch time surfing

Rat people stick together. We're kinda ostracized, sometimes (you have a what for a pet?), and it's sometimes hard to find a good rat vet (for instance, that's probably not blood coming from your rat's nose) and...well, rat discussion lists are a support group. You come to know your fellow rat people, you come to know their rats, and we understand the heartbreak when someone loses a rat (Yes, heartbreak. Haven't you cried when a beloved dog or cat died? Same thing.).

A lot of rat discussion groups have off-topic areas, and on one of them someone brought up this article that discusses how one school has banned peanut butter because of one child who is allergic to it.

I'm not going to discuss the rightness or wrongness of a school banning peanut butter for one kid, nor wonder why so many kids these days are allergic to darn near everything--except to advocate that, if you have kids, take away the hypoallergenic toys and start feeding them a teaspoon of dirt every day, so they can build up their immune systems--but I am going to discuss my love affair with Peanut Butter.

James, over at the Parkway Rest Stop posted about his love affair here, and has apparently eaten peanut butter since the day he was born. Me? Funny thing is, is I really didn't like it as a kid.

Can't explain why I didn't like it when I was younger, or why I suddenly started liking it. It started sometime after my parents moved out of the house, and my roommate bought a jar of peanut butter, some bread, and some grape jelly. I ate a sandwich and I was back in Hawaii, a kid on his brand-new bicycle, coming in for lunch and Mom giving me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a glass of milk.

(Oh, I always like peanut butter and jelly, but peanut butter by itself? No way!)

But this newly on-his-own adult had to clean the spoon somehow, so he stuck it in his mouth.

Oh. My. Maybe peanut butter was inferior back in the '60's, or maybe the base comissary had crappy peanut butter--whatever it was, it was nothing like this. This was sweet, this was wonderful, this was heaven in my mouth! We had always had smooth peanut butter, but this was crunchy peanut butter made with honey-roasted nuts, and it was heaven!

I stuck the spoon back into the jar (the trained food-sanitation guy on my shoulder apparently having fainted in ecstasy) once, twice, three or four times, until the trained food-sanitation guy on my shoulder regained consciousness and I put the lid back on the peanut butter and put it away. No, I didn't tell my roommate I had quadruple-dipped, and I'm reasonably sure he's alive and well to this day.

Anyway. Crunchy honey-roast became a staple in my larder, at least until my cholesterol stayed sky-high for awhile and the gf started getting natural peanut butter--which tastes fine, don't get me wrong. I'm not complaining. It's just not made with honey-roasted nuts.

A peanut butter and jelly sandwich is still a great fast breakfast; a spoonful of peanut butter (I'm back to single-dipping) is a great hunger calmer-downer.

Mixing medicine with peanut butter is a good way to give your rats their medicine. Suffice it to say, Ethel doesn't like peanut butter.

So, no real point, except to say that I Love Peanut Butter.

Oh, and click here. It's work-safe, but turn the sound down.

Joke Chain Blogging

Lee Ann started it, Da Goddess continued it, and I'm gonna keep it alive:

A priest, a minister, and a rabbi walk into a bar. The bartender looks up and says...

"What is this, a joke?"

Neato!

Check out my new Trackback Tracking Thingie.

Thank you Jennifer, Kevin, Laurence, and the person who originally wrote it.

I like ducks.

You know, I sometimes wonder about these little quiz thingies.

Some pictures

As Ted said, we dodged a bullet with this one.

The gf and I took the dog for a walk, and there was some damage. There were trees down; one of them was *not* the one I was worried about here, fortunately.

This is the worst damage I've seen in our neighborhood so far--a fence damaged by a falling tree (I apologize for the blurriness of the picture; it'll show up in some others. I'm still trying to figure out how to use my new camera and the lag between hitting the shutter release and the picture being taken is still driving me nuts. You'll also notice apparent differences in exposure; some of these were enhanced with Paint Shop Pro.).

One of our nearby streetlamps was knocked over. I saw no exposed wires. Those two blurs are the gf and the dog.

The parking lot of a nearby shopping center. All of the local grocery stores have done away with loading zones and those damn carts are all over the fucking place because people don't take them back. I hope the grocery stores get sued because someone ended up with a cart in their living room.

In other news, Montgomery County has announced there are 483 intersections with no working lights.

Metro opened at 8AM.

I'm amazed at how hungry I've been, sitting around and doing nothing. Must be an evolutionary reaction to realizing I might not have easy access to food in the near future.

My office is still closed, so I've got a four day weekend! I'll do my Naked Dance of Celebration later on.

UPDATE: The gf posted her pictures from our walk here.

Cherry's Weekly Bad Joke

Fellow Munuvian Cherry's weekly Bad Joke features a dachshund, a leopard, and monkey. Take a moment to read it today; it's pretty. . .bad.

There's got to be a morning after.

We're alive. We have power (as opposed to nearly 1 million in the rest of the DC Metro area). We may still lose power, tho, as repairs are started.

The gf and I spent the night in the basement, along with the dog, the guinea pigs, and the rats. Lights out was at 10PM--we get up at 5AM on weekdays, and I, for one, need my beauty sleep.

We can safely say it's true that rats are nocturnal; one of them (probably Curly) spent a lot of the night chewing on his cardboard box. In the middle of the night, the air mattress deflated for reasons unknown; stick the dog between two adults and you have a recipe for a restless night.

A picture taken less then 20 minutes ago. You can see there's no eye (at least, not to my untrained eye) but there's still a boatload of moisture. I just showed the pic to the gf and she remarked, "I hope the people in Ohio are OK!"

The rain is almost non-existant, but it's still pretty windy.

The County Executive has urged people to stay in their homes, and to stay out of the way of repair/cleanup crews--sound advice that people will, no doubt, ignore. There have been at least three reported deaths, and the local ABC affiliate had an interview with two women who were walking in the flooded streets of Old Towne section of Alexandria, Virginia. They had attended a Hurricane party and were heading home. The girl reported the water was calm, but they were bumping into newspaper boxes and other hidden debris.

Would've been interesting had they gone over a manhole that was missing its cover.

NOAA's 9 o'clock bulletin

000
WTNT33 KNHC 190100
TCPAT3
BULLETIN
TROPICAL STORM ISABEL INTERMEDIATE ADVISORY NUMBER 51B
NWS TPC/NATIONAL HURRICANE CENTER MIAMI FL
9 PM EDT THU SEP 18 2003

...ISABEL WEAKENS TO A TROPICAL STORM...

AT 9 PM...0100Z...THE HURRICANE WARNING HAS BEEN REPLACED BY A
TROPICAL STORM WARNING.

A TROPICAL STORM WARNING IS NOW IN EFFECT NORTH OF SURF CITY NORTH
CAROLINA TO MORICHES INLET NEW YORK...INCLUDING PAMLICO AND
ALBEMARLE SOUNDS...CHESAPEAKE BAY...THE TIDAL POTOMAC...AND
DELAWARE BAY.

Changing situation

We had Dr. Strangelove on the big TV, and the sound muted on the small one, tuned to the local ABC affiliate. At nine PM, they went to news, and it seems as if the hurricane has taken a left turn.

Also, feeder bands are way to our north. Apparently, what this means is the eye will pass significantly to the south of Washington, and the feeder bands will be significantly to the north of Washington, and Washington and surrounding areas will be in a relatively calm area.

It's certainly too soon to say we've dodged a bullet, but...maybe their aim is just a bit off. We still have power; the area where I used to live a few years ago (the Four Corners/Wheaton area of Silver Spring) has no power.

I still do, duh.

Here's a picture from weather.gov:

Just got the word: Isabel has been downgraded to tropical storm. Yay!

CLARIFICATION: Four Corners/Wheaton is along Georgia Avenue in Montgomery County, right up against Washington. I live in Gaithersburg, in the middle of Montgomery County--Four Corners is less then 15 miles away.

Goings-on

The local networks have switched over to regular programming, so we've switched to DVD's. We watched Chicago earlier; next is Dr. Strangelove. But a couple of things reported...

Rescuers have already started interfering with natural selection--some idiot out windsurfing in Ocean City (I think).

Channel 7 (ABC affiliate) has a report at Reagan National Airport--they did a quick interview with an idiot who was jogging thru the airport. It was a side trip; he's training for a marathon and had to go to the bathroom--so he went into the airport. That little interview was taped; they showed the jogger live as he exited. Apparently, the jogger was Ted.

The situation

It's been raining pretty steadily for several hours now, but, were circumstances different, I'd call it a steady, soaking rain. On the TV, though, it looks like there's a hurricane out there. We should get smacked silly in about 90 minutes, if the weather guys are correct, and so far they've been dead on.

Tony Williams, the mayor of Washington, DC, advised his constituents to, "Keep your behind inside." Sound advice...but of course your standard idiots aren't, and the rescue people will interfere with natural selection and rescue most of them.

Actual interview I saw a few minutes ago (taped earlier in the day):
Newscaster: Why are you out here?
Idiot: I'm just out here, havin' fun.
Newscaster: Don't you think it's dangerous?
Idiot: (After a pause) Yeah, but it's still fun.

The lights have flickered several times, but (obviously) we still have power.

Here's a picture from our back door--

I'm a little concerned about that tree, but I can see the clouds moving (and I mean moving) and they're blowing toward the house whose backyard that tree is in. You can also see the old screen our neighbors didn't bring inside. UPDATE on them: They didn't bring much in, as far as I can tell. Their lawnmower is in the middle of their yard, their grill is against our common fence (pinning the screen against the fence) and their picnic table was flipped upside down.

I'm kinda wishing I had bought the water-resistant case for my new camera.

Just went upstairs, and we've got a storm. Well.

The worst part is...

...the gf and I are bored silly.

Just for Mookie

Fat Rat Calle at the Rat Birthday Party.

Yes, we have birthday parties for the rats. They live less than three years on average, so we have birthday parties.

Picture time!

The boys are taking it in stride.

Harley the Guinea Pig's cage.

Teddy the Guinea Pig heard me take out his veggie bowl so I could take his picture.

I took other pix, but we're in a basement, and...well, it looks like we store all of our stuff in it.

Now it's really starting.

The last bit of rain was just a preview. It started raining for real sometime between 1 & 2 PM. The gf came home a little after noon, and suggested we get some lunch. Turns out our favorite Greek place is open, and I wanted calories. Hurricane's comin' and diets are off.

Just before two o'clock I took the dog for a walk and it was raining; the rain started getting harder as we finished the walk. So I guess it's really here.

VERMIN UPDATE: Just before I took down the dish, I noticed a wasp inside the house, and I brushed her outside. I didn't think too much of it; the door had been open for quite awhile while I was getting the grills inside.

Just before we headed out to get some lunch, I noticed another wasp. That's one too many for coincidence, so I looked at the wagon and the grills...and sure enough, there was a nest (two, I later discovered) inside one of the grills--the one we never use. So, drag that sucker back out, spray the active nest with wasp killer, hit the dead one for good measure, and let it sit outside for a bit.

I felt bad about it, truth be told. They were just doing what wasps do, you know?

By the way, we've started drinking. What else are we gonna do?

(That's rhetorical, BTW.)

I've already had a couple of Magic Hat Fat Angels--their IPA, and it's really good. The gf has had only one Pete's Wicked Red Rush. At this rate, I should be out of beer before 5 PM. Guess I should pace myself, because I don't know how many typos I've corrected.

Everybody's doing it.

Since Jennifer posted some stuff about her, Suzie did it, and some other people did it. My gf did 100 things last month. Guess it's my turn:

50. I'm a patient guy.
49. But I'm not patient enough for this shit.

It's starting.

Went outside to get my first-aid kit out of the car...and some rain was falling. Time to get the last things inside: two grills, a wagon, the screen door (falling off anyway) and the satellite dish. Just the dish; I couldn't figure out where to disconnect the cable. If I could've, I would've taken the whole thing down.

Took the dog for a walk, and I saw a big, beautiful spider rebuilding her web. She was in the roll-up-the-old while laying-down-the-new (radials) stage--that is, she had been working for about thirty minutes, and had several hours to go.

Unlike others, I like spiders. If you've never watched an orb-web spinner build a web, you're missing one of lifes more fascinating feats of engineering. Trust me on this--it's a totally hypnotic thing to watch, especially when they lay down the orbital web. It looks like a little dance. If you're not creeped out, I think you can learn more about it here (There's a fantastic page on web-building somewhere else, but it's bookmarked at work. Dang.).

Anyway. First chance I get, I'm going back to that YIELD sign to see if the spider is still there. Poor little girl.

SPIDER UPDATE: I went back out to try to take her picture, and she wasn't there. The radials she had laid down were, but Arachnia (as I've named her) wasn't. I suspect when it started raining, she ducked for cover inside the sign supports. Sweetie, she isn't in the house. Promise.

Standing against the post with a blindfold on.

That's what it feels like. It's all over but for the waiting. My customer is closed today, so I'm not going in. I wasn't anyway, not with the Metro closing at 11AM, but I don't feel so guilty about it now. It's a bitch having two bosses to keep happy sometimes.

The gf went in; she's the only one there so far. It's not as difficult for her; she's only 30 minutes away. You can see a picture of the greenhouse in our living room at her blog. She mentioned lawn jockeys before I did. Also, note the hyper Lemon Beagle in the corner of the picture (there's more than rats in our house, you know. I'm going to clean guinea pig cages after I post this).

In the Rat Room this AM, I heard voices outside, and looked out the window. The idiot next door neighbors were bringing in some of their stuff. About time, too.

Hurricane warning.

The gf and I spent the evening getting loose stuff from the front and backyards cleaned up enough to bring them inside. Having spent some time in Florida, the gf kinda knows what to expect. I don't, but I can imagine.

As far as we can tell, however, our idiot neighbors (and we have a lot of them--we live in a townhouse) are clueless to the highest of cluelesstivity! One idiot spent yesterday weeding, mulching and landscaping his garden, then leaving all the stuff for the recycle pickup today. But since he didn't have it packaged properly, it didn't get picked up.

One of our next-doors (she's about the only other one who isn't an idiot) confronted the woman of the house, who said they had no plans to pick up the stuff. Our neighbor told them if she didn't, she'd throw it through their window when the winds started. Sounded like a good plan to me; have the woman try to prove it wasn't the hurricane that did it.

Anyway, idiot husband was spotted later, putting all the stuff into plastic bags.

Idiots across the parking lot have a lawn jockey in their yard; if that shows up on my side of the street I'm going to use it to crush their little yappy tribbles dogs someday.

Our other next-doors, who are idiots, haven't done squat. Not surprising; these idiots don't even have a snow shovel, which was pretty interesting last winter when we had 97 feet of snow.

An idiot, in a Washington POST chat, asked a meteorologist, "Where's the best place to watch the hurricane?" I'd have told him to get on the roof of his house, then thank him for doing his part to improve the gene pool.

Another idiot asked, "Should I bring in my hanging plants?" Gah.

I'm surrounded by idiots.

I also confess I'm more than a little nervous about this.

Ted has a problem.

Fellow Munuvian Ted enjoys model rocketry. When I was a kid, I had a brief fling with rocketry. It was fun. Someday, I hope to go to one of Ted's launches and watch rockets I never dreamed of when I was younger go off into the wild blue.

In Congress is a bill that would (my understanding) make the sale of model-rocketry engines illegal, since the bill thinks they can be made to explode. Ted knows more about this than I; you can read his analysis right here.

In one of his posts, Ted reprints part of a message from rec.models.rockets, which implores all model rocketeers to write their hands off:

This person would write letters - not to the senator, but to the entities funding the senator. This person would tell said entities how unhappy they were with the senator's position. This person would tell said entity that they would be boycotted until they a) quit funding the senator or b) got the senator to change his or her mind.

Get writing, Ted. But more important: You've got to get model rocketeers from around the world to write. Why?

Well, earlier this year, in the wake of the Monkey Pox scare, the city Commisioners of Covington, Kentucky, got it into their pointy little heads to (essentially) ban all pets other than dogs and cats. This included hamsters, gerbils, guinea pigs, rabbits...and rats.

Before this bone-headed piece of legislation took effect, however, the city Commisioners were bombarded with thousands, if not millions, of letters, from rat lovers around the world. The Kentucky POST reported:

Rat advocates worldwide, who learned about the ban when copies of Post articles were posted on Internet sites, have bombarded city officials from across the country. A woman in Switzerland sent a message this week.

There's a whole world of model rocketeers out there, Ted. Start rounding 'em up.

And as for who to write to...you can look up your legislators primary contributors at Government Information Awareness.

I'm an old fart.

Yesterday was a *really* nice day. So on the way home, I roll down the window, open up the sunroof, and play the Ramones a little louder than I normally do 'cause everyone likes the Ramones.

I had to stop by CVS to pick up a prescription. In the shopping center, I'm singing along

If you think you can,
well, c'mon man!
I was a Green Beret in Viet Nam!

and I spot some mopes in front of the video store, I think. You've seen 'em: One guy shaved head, 1/4-inch thick Mohawk, another with a punk rock t-shirt under a cammo vest, the third dressed in all black. Kinda what I looked like 20 or so years ago.*

I caught their eye, they caught mine, and I drove by, parked, waited in line.

After paying for my prescription and opening the bottle to make sure they were the right meds, I walked by the mopes at the soda refrigerator. The guy with the vest looked at me. "Were you listening to the Ramones?" he asked.

I answered I was, and he asked, "Aren't you a little old for that?" His friends smirked and laughed.

Normally, I would've just walked away and they would've told all their friends about the old fart they saw listening to the Ramones. I surprised myself. "What do you think happened to all the people who listened to the Ramones twenty years ago?" I said, and he looked surprised. His friends stopped laughing.

I wasn't following his script. Really, I surprised myself, since I'm usually not at all quick on my feet like that.

"They grew UP!" I answered, and then I walked away. I'm pretty sure I ruined his day.

*Actually, I didn't look like that. I wanted to, but my father would've killed me.

New Blog Showcase

My votes:
DFMoore
Snooze Button Dreams

One of the Great Questions of Life

Pixy is trying to figure something out.

Everybody help him out!

This Really Sucks.

Today, the Women's United Soccer Association announced it was suspending operations. My gf has lots of thoughts on this here.

I'm a lot less eloquent: It really sucks.

I didn't make it to any games this season; of course, my team (the Washington Freedom) won the Founder's Cup Championship--that is, they won the final WUSA game, 2-1, over the Atlanta Beat.

It's fitting after a manner, because they also won the inaugural WUSA game, against the San Jose Cyber Rays, 1-0. (The Cyber Rays shook off that loss and went on to defeat Atlanta, in penalty kicks, for the first Founder's Cup.)

I went to that game; it's not every day you get to see the first game of a new league, much less a new team. One day, I'll get to tell my niece I saw Mia Hamm play against Brandy Chastain. . .

Before anyone forgets, the rest of the league was:
Boston Breakers
Carolina Courage (They beat Washington 3-2 for last year's championship)
New York Power
Philadelphia Charge
San Diego Spirit

Also: Bend it Like Beckham is now dated.

New Blog Showcase

In order to help defeat The Evolution Revolution, I must vote in The New Blog Showcase.

So, my votes:
Argghhh!
Snooze Button Dreams

Busy weekend!

Yesterday, the gf took me out for my birthday (early): We went to Baltimore to see the stage production of Hairspray.

You have to understand: I lovelovelove Hairspray, the movie. You can say it's corny, you can say it's trite, you can say it's hokey, and I love it anyway. It's got an awesome soundtrack, and the dancing is...I really like the dancing. So when I found out it was going to be turned into a musical I was, to say the least, there.

Of course I spent the whole time comparing the play to the movie, which isn't really fair of me, and the movie came out on top...and I'd have to say it's because the dancing wasn't the same caliber as the movie.

I mean, The Madison is The Madison. On stage, they did some kinda Madison-like dance to some kinda Madison-like tune. Part of that may have been the soundtrack: I'm sure they would have had to pay a license fee *every time* a certain song (The Madison, Shake a Tail Feather, I'm Blue, among others) was performed on stage, as opposed to the one time for the movie.

The plot was basically the same; some details were changed. One character change I didn't like was Tracy's friend, Penny. In the movie, Penny and Tracy are two of the outcasts in teen society thru no real fault of their own (Tracy is fat, and Penny has a serious control freak for a mother) and that helps keep them together. In the play, Penny is a real ditz, for no reason but to serve a new plot point well.

Thing is, it's was a plot detail that wasn't addressed in the movie, because it wasn't important to the theme of the movie. You don't have to tie up every loose end, and in the movie, this wasn't really a loose end.

A few lines of dialogue from the movie made it onto the stage--but I can't really remember which ones. One that didn't make it was my favorite line from the move: "I wish I was at a hottenany in Harlem!"

The high point was, of course, the two rats that appeared, even if they were mechanical remote-control rats. In the movie, the two rats were real and it was great seeing them, even if Tracy did kick one of them away.

But again, it's not really fair of me to compare the play to the movie. I confess the play would stand on its own: It's corny, it's trite, and it's hokey, and I thoroughly loved it. Betcha it would make a great movie!

I really only intended to write a couple of lines about it, but I guess that movie is too important to me to just gloss over. So I'll go over the other highlights real fast:

• The Redskins won today, in spite of Steve Spurrier's coaching.
• The gf still has a cut finger--you can read about it at her blog.
• We celebrated Rat Birthdays today! Seven of them turn one this month, two of them are three, and the tenth is one-and-a-half! Yay! Pix are at our Ratablog.

OK, there should be enough there to give Susie something to ping about.

It's starting.

Hockey training camps opened yesterday. Thank God--I can't talk football for forever, ya know.

Caps are younger, having lost two older defensemen: Calle Johannson (retired)and Ken Klee (FA, contract not being negotiated. May sign with Atlanta). They tried to trade Jaromir Jagr, too, despite what George McPhee isn't saying.

I saw a brief interview with Jagr this morning, and he seems to understand what's going on:

"This is a business," Jagr said. "They have to do whatever they feel is best for the Washington Capitals. If I was the owner I would try to do the same thing. There is no hard feelings."

(From the Washington POST.)

Rumors say they would have traded him for Eric Lindros, a move that would have had me screaming for McPhee's head on a pike, if he were lucky.

{Eric Lindros rant ON}
Eric Lindros is the most overrated player in hockey history. Just think: If he had gone to Quebec when he was drafted, he would've ended up in Colorado and his name would be on the Stanley Cup. In the end, he reaped what he sowed.
{Eric Lindros rant OFF}

It's still way too early to start making predictions, but I expect the Caps will do what they've been doing for waaay too long: Fade in the playoffs and be on the golf course in June. Dang.

Can't figure out how to fit this in, so I'll just end this post with it: Yesterday's Washington POST printed this article on the medical problems Salima Witt (wife of Capital defenseman Brendan Witt--I named Rat Witter after him) had last season. It's an emotional read.

September 11, 2003

I was only going to make one post today. I hope you've read and enjoyed it.

You all know I have a girlfriend (frequently referred to as gf). One or two of you even know she has a blog...but I've intentionally not linked to her, and I've asked her not to link to anyone, because of the Back From Vacation Saga (which should be done sometime before The Second Coming Of The Lord, but I'm not making any promises). She's showed up as the PureBlogger, the only blogger not obsessed with linkwhorage.

She's not, really, but she does read other blogs and wants to link to some and hasn't ONLY because she's indulging her idiot boyfriend by not doing so.

Then she goes off and does her September 11 post and I've decided my idiocy stops now.

So here's Victor's GF's blog: Shoes, Ships, and Sealing Wax. Read it, enjoy it, link to it, be shocked by it. But don't make her cry.

You think I was mad when Ethel made Susie cry, you ain't seen nothin' yet.

September 11, 2001

It's still in my Visor, an entry for September 11, 2001: L's surgery--5:30AM. I put it there sometime before that date.

See, for me, that date already meant something to me. L is my stepmother, and she was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2001. She was to have a partial mastectomy and lymphectomy on September 11, 2001, at 5:30AM, at the Bethesda National Naval Medical Center in Bethesda, Maryland (my father having served in the Navy for twenty years on active duty, and ten in the Fleet Reserve).

I fix computers, under contract, for a law firm in Washington, DC. On that day, I was walking thru the halls to help someone with...something, darned if I can remember what...when I was flagged in the halls.

"Rich!" someone called out, and since Rich isn't my name, I kept walking. "I mean, Victor, sorry...is there a TV set up somewhere?"

There's a conference room with a rear-projection screen TV on the 7th floor, and it's turned on for special events. The OJ trial, election day, USA World Cup games--important stuff.

I told them to go to the 7th floor conference room on the west wing, then asked what was going on. "A plane flew into one of the towers of the World Trade Center," they told me, and headed to the seventh floor.

My first thought was of the B-25 bomber that flew into the Empire State Building at the tail end of WWII. Not too many people know about that; a book entitled The Sky is Falling was written about it, and I recommend it--but I digress.

I returned to my office and tried to log onto CNN.com to get some more info--as I'm sure you know, I couldn't connect. I have lousy radio reception in my office, so I called the gf--she gets pretty good reception at work, and she filled me in on some details.

The second tower had been hit. A plane crashed into the Pentagon. Later, she was the first to tell me both towers had collapsed.

At that, my first thoughts were of my stepmother. You see, she's my stepmother because my natural mother died of (cervical) cancer when I was twelve. I saw how her death affected my father, and I wasn't worried about me going thru that again. I was worried about him going thru it again.

Couple that with the fact she was having surgery at a military hospital...I stuck to my plan to call him in the afternoon. Truth be told, I didn't have a choice. He has no cell phone, and I knew there was no way in hell I'd get him paged at Bethesda--not with what was becoming a national emergency unfolding.

I eventually connected to a British news site, and managed to get some news that way. In the hall, a nearby secretary had her radio tuned to NPR; I gave it a shot in my office and miracle of miracles, I heard the news.

It wasn't good. They were reporting 50,000 people worked each day in the towers, and they didn't know how many got out. Other reports: An airliner crash in Pennsylvania, a truck bomb in downtown Washington, all flights across the country grounded.

You know the rest, so there's no real reason to go over it.

I contacted my father that afternoon, and asked about L's surgery. Turns out she didn't have it. They tell you to be there at oh-dark-thirty, but you'll be in line behind a bunch of other people, and it's like an assembly line. Cart 'em in, cut 'em up, roll 'em out and bring the next one in.

She was next in line, prepped and on the gurney, when things changed. I asked my father how he heard about it, and there were TV's in the waiting room. Like me, his first thoughts were of the B-25 back in 1945, but the circumstances then were very different: The bomber pilot was a cocky pilot, it was foggy, he was disobeying civilian controllers. My father had spent some time posted at NAVSTIC, so he started wondering what was going on. He told me he realized it was an attack when he watched the second plane hit the second Tower, live, on a TV in the waiting room at the Bethesda National Naval Medical Center.

Armed guards started appearing in the hallway of the hospital; doctors started heading out, preparing for casualties from the Pentagon.

L was de-prepped and released to my father. Her surgeon had already received orders to report to the USNS Comfort in Baltimore, sailing to New York, to treat casualties from the World Trade Center.

No, they didn't know when the surgery would be re-scheduled.

As you know, by September 12, we realized there would not be thousands, nor hundreds, nor scores of survivors at the WTC. L's surgeon was helicoptered back to Bethesda (on a military aircraft), and her surgery was performed on the 14th. She's still alive and kicking to this day.

As kids, my brother, sister, and myself didn't appreciate her. After all, she wasn't our real mother.

What we didn't realize, tho, was that she was a real wife and companion to our father. To be honest, it took me quite awhile to realize that.

I was only indirectly affected by the attacks on September 11. A secretary's husband worked in the Pentagon; he died that day. I've worked at the law firm where Barbara Olson once worked. My gf's father has worked for the Washington Capitals since Year One and he knew Ace Bailey.

For me, though, I choose to remember, on this day, my stepmother's life, and her survival.

WAR! Update

Go kill a monkey! NOW!

Check out this cartoon while you're there. Not as good as that Bugs Bunny cartoon where an opera singer gets upset at Bugs for playing the banjo during reheasal so Bugs disguises hisself as Leopold Stokowski and tortures the opera singer until the final scene where the singer turns about 81 different colors including plaid and quite possibly plurple while holding a note that makes the dome/stage collapse around him, but it's pretty good.

Work-safe. Don't have the sound too loud.

Snarky comment of the day.

Has anyone else noticed there's just no pleasing Jennifer?

Any comments?

Heather asks her readership:

Do they work? Should I keep them? Are they non-intuitive? Will it rain tomorrow? Will virtual erasers take flight and wipe out all of Blogspot's content?

in reference to her comments. My answer was (obviously) yes, she should, and I also suggested she tell her husband, Brian, to get some, because I wanted to comment on two of his posts.

Apparently, he doesn't want comments. See Heathers comments on her comment question, above.

Weird. I think it's safe to say 99% of the bloggers out there want comments, and the other 1% are liars (except Brian). If we're writing stuff, we want to know what others think of it; if we didn't want to know what others think of our writing, we wouldn't post it. Duh.

("Duh" is much classier than "QED," in my humble opinion.)

Me? I love comments. They're like doughnuts--you can't get enough. It's like, "Look! Someone's reading this AND they left a comment doughnut!"

So leave a comment immediately after reading this.

AIGHHHHHHHHH!

I just checked the Ecosystem, and I'm now a Marauding Marsupial! I have to go back to being an adorable little rodent a rat!

Susie! Back off on the pinkage!

(Don't anyone delink me, tho!)

WAR! Update

As much as it pains me to do so, I must link to several Simian Alliance blogs and blogposts. However, I must do so in order to demonstrate the lack of morale in The Simian Alliance (Or The Evolution Revolution--whichever you prefer).

First, the Simian Alliance member known as Romulus R. is the so-called "Alliance Minister of Truth" (I'd link directly to this proclamation, but the crappy HTML at the "Alliance Specialties" webpage is...well, crappy. Scroll down a bit; it won't kill you).

Second, in this post at the so-called Simian Alliance HQ, Romulus R. uses this one-word sentence: Indeed!

Everyone knows who uses that word more than anyone on the planet. Our Esteemed Leader, The Instapundit.

It's obvious to me: The Simian Alliance MiniTrue knows their Alliance will be defeated, and is laying the groundwork for their eventual surrender.

Heh.

I just realized...

I didn't post anything yesterday. I was having too much fun killing pixilated Nazis.

Ran into my first loper yesterday. He didn't last long. The second one, tho...yeah, he got me. Fortunately, I had saved the game just before running into the first one.

The Saga Continues

Part 12: Enter the Blog
Part 13: Deliverance

I'm *really* having problems thinking up new titles. Also, please excuse the misspelled word in Part 13. Thanks much.

Dang it!

OK, who bid on the CD version of Lancelot Link and the Evolution Revolution?

No poop, Sherlock.

I just checked the Ecosystem, and I'm An Adorable Little Rodent.

A rat, of course.

Just causin' a little trouble...

Has anyone noticed Ted (over at Rocket Jones) has put his daughter somewhere in the middle of his blogroll?

Fair's fair, I guess: She put her father down toward the bottom.

And Jennifer has overslept.

Random stuff.

OK, the Redskins won. Big fat hairy farkin' deal. They beat the Jets! THE JETS! I could recruit a bunch of kids offa the playground, teach 'em a down & out and the counter-trey, and *they* could beat the Jets. Sorry, Collins, but the Jets are gonna stink like the Redskins this year. No, I'm not holding onto some fantasy that they'll keep playing like this.

Need I remind you Steve Spurrier is the coach, and Dan Snyder is the owner? No? Good.

Moving on, Susie could give a rats ass about football.

Cimino runs into a confused shopper.

I'm ending my poll. One person voted for "One Rat," which makes that person cool, but rats are social animals, so the one person who voted for "Two Rats" is cooler than the person who voted for "One Rat."

Five people voted for "Lots of Rats" and only three of those votes were mine. You other two people who voted for "Lots of Rats" are up there in the Super-Cool category with me.

There was only one other vote, and that was for "A big, hairy, dog-eating spider." Thanks, Serenity.

And the best news of all--LeeAnn is now a Munuvian! LeeAnn is fondly remembered by me as being the *only* person ever to use the "Talk To Me" link back on one of my old blogs, when she asked me, "What's a rat person blogger?" That simple question made my day. Turns out she has been a ratkeeper in her life; obviously, she needs more.

I'll send a note to the GM1.

Are ya ready for some football?

I'm not. For the first time in years, I have never been so not excited about the start of football season.

Dan Snyder stinks as an owner. Steve Spurrier stinks as an NFL head coach. Patrick Ramsey stinks as a quarterback. Darryl Green is gone. If not for LaVar Arrington, I really feel the 'Skins would go oh-fer.

The only thing that even has me vaguely interested in football is Collins's interest in the Jets. I'm not real fond of the Jets (in fact, I'm not real fond of any team from New York), but I have to say it seems the Jets will stink more than the Skins. I mean, really stink. Stink to the highest of Stinkstivity.

(OK, maybe the Bengals are worse, but Lord a'mighty--the Jets ain't good.)

In a sick way, I'm gonna enjoy watching him cry in his beer after every Jets game. When he's pissed, he writes really good. Whatever it takes, I guess.

So, to my Munuvian blogbro, on this Opening Day Thursday I say, "May the worst team lose!"

As well they should.

And who is the farkin' genius in the NFL who decided on a Redskins-Jets matchup for the opening game? Halftime entertainment should be that guy bound and gagged, covered in steak sauce, and thrown into a pit of hungry Rottweilers.

A poll!

Everyone, take my poll, way down at the bottom of the page!

DIE, YUPPIE SCUM!

The gf and I have recently discovered Whole Foods. It's a little expensive, but the food quality is fantastic, and where else can I buy dandelion greens?

(The dandelions are for the guinea pigs. Right now, there aren't a lot of dandelions in our front yard, which is why I have to buy them.)

We're not health-food freaks, nor are we people who follow every diet/health fad around, tho that seems to be Whole Foods' target consumer (We saw one product on the shelves: Geo-Thermal Spring Water. You know *that's* a big seller). We try to eat a well-balanced diet, using fresh ingredients, prepared with some TLC.

But it's fun watching the Yuppies at the closest Whole Foods. It's in a Montgomery County development called The Kentlands (description from their official history: "Kentlands is a new-old community with roots that go far back into antiquity." Everything else is just as pretentious), which is full of quarter-million dollar houses on 1/8 acre, all of them filled with people who don't think the rules apply to them. Driving around there is a bitch, because no one there knows the right-of-way laws, or if they do, they don't think they apply to them.

So...the gf and I are there getting dandelion greens, food for our Labor Day barbecue, and sampling the free samples.

I admit it. I love the free samples--but at the same time, even if I don't buy one of the samples, there have been times I have, and I'm also there doing some grocery shopping!

Not Idiot Couple Number Two. She: Blindingly white tennis whites (which, snarky as this sounds, tells me she might've taken a semester of tennis in college, but I doubt it); he: cut-offs and a t-shirt (which is OK by me). Them: no grocery cart, no grocery basket, eating every freakin' sample they can get their hands on, several times...and the gf and I watch them leave, having apparently eaten their fill, without buying a single thing.

I really wonder what their dates were like: "So, McDonald's?" "No, too expensive. Let's hit the dumpster behind McDonald's tonight!"

Before that, obviously, was Idiot Couple Number One. They're at the butcher's counter, looking over the ribs, I presume for barbecuing...but they don't know how to cook them.

The guy actually asked the butcher how to cook the ribs!

I have this image: "Honey, let's invite the neighborhood over for a cookout!" "Sounds great!" "Let's do something we've never done before and don't know how to do, because after all, I can microwave a burrito; I should be able to bbq some ribs!"

(And that's how he pronounces it to my mind's ear: Bee-bee-cue.)

The butcher starts off by recommending they use a rub, right over there in that aisle (less chance the moron will burn his meat, which said moron will blame on the butcher, somehow), and Little Yuppie Wife goes scampering off to get the rub, while Big Yuppie Husband is looking over the ribs with what he thinks is a practiced eye, but more resembles the eye of that guy you see on the side of the road, hood up, smoke clouding around his head, hoping to see what the problem with his car is and that whatever the problem is, that it can be fixed by the "Emergency Roadside Repair Kit" his kids gave him for Father's Day six years ago and has never been opened.

Little Yuppie Wife comes back and asks, "Is this the rub?" and butcher confirms it is. Little Yuppie Wife then asks, "Is this in addition to the sauce?"

Butcher sighs. He wants to roll his eyes, but when dealing with Yuppie Scum, you don't dare. They'll start screaming...something, and demand to see the manager...manager has to come out and chew out the butcher, even though he'll apologize later ("Look, man, I had to do it...they were going to ask for free porterhouse!" "Yeah, I know, but next time, take me outside so we can both slash their tires, OK?")

Victor nearby almost shits himself, ready to throttle Idiot Couple Number One. Betcha the butcher would've given me free porterhouse if I had.

There are, basically, two different styles of ribs: Wet, and Dry. Wet is the saucy type, and it's dead easy to prepare: Prep the meat by trimming excess fat and pulling off the thin, papery layer of stuff on one side. Add some spices--salt and pepper are fine. Smoke over an indirect fire for...

What's that? You don't know what an indirect fire is? Neither did Idiot Guy Number One.

Because of the close proximity to the heat source in barbecuing, if something requires that it be cooked for more than twenty or thirty minutes, the coals should be pushed to each side, a drip pan be placed beneath the food item (you don't want a fire right below the item), and the food is placed above and between the two piles of coals. It's kind of like sticking it in an oven.

Anyway, smoke the ribs--you don't really grill 'em. Soak woodchips in water, add them to the coals. You'll have to replace them regularly, just as you'll also have to replace the coals because they'll burn out.

To be honest, Idiot Guy Number One probably didn't have to worry about his coals burning out, because he uses propane. I guarantee you, he uses propane.

Propane appeals to Idiot Guys. You don't have to start a fire, you don't have to get dirty, you don't have to deal with your fire burning out (unless, of course, you run out of propane. Heh.)...Hey! It's JUST LIKE COOKING INDOORS, YOU DUMB FUCK!

Then there's the less-important (to people who cook) but more important (to Yuppie Scum): Why grill on a $120 charcoal Weber when you can cook on a $3000 propane monster that pretty much does everything but slice the damn meat for you?

No love of a challenge, I tell you. What a waste of testosterone...but I digress.

Wet ribs: Smoke over a (relatively cool) indirect fire until they're tender. Every time you add coals or wood chips, spray the ribs with some apple juice from a spray bottle--the apple juice adds a little sweetness and helps keep the ribs moist. Add the barbecue sauce about fifteen minutes before they're ready. That way, the sauce won't burn while it's on the rib.

And, dammit, make sure the sauce is not cloying! A little sweet is OK, but don't put me into sugar shock.

Dry ribs are prepared with a mix of spices. The night before, prepare your rub, then rub it into the ribs, and put it in the fridge overnight. When cooking, the fat in the ribs provides some of the moisture, the ribs are smoked with a thin layer of spices--add another layer just before you serve 'em. Add chips, use apple juice...Really, it's not rocket science.

Idiot Guy Number One's eyes are getting a bigger. He didn't know what he was in for, but he bought two big racks of ribs anyway. In for a penny, in for a pound, I guess.

I just know he burned the bejesus out of those ribs.

eBay

must...not...bid...

So, what did you do this Memorial Day weekend?

If I think real hard (or maybe not so hard), I can probably guess what my blogfriends did.

Susie worked. Problem with a service job--you don't get holidays off.

Pixy Misa downloaded more anime then he could possible watch in his, mine, and your lifetimes combined.

Ted launched some rockets. Hopefully, some of those were pointed at Ethel and the Evolution Revolution.

His daughter, being the loving and conscientious child that she is, thought up ways to insult me. At least I have a purpose for being.

Jaws is preparing for another year at Brandeis. He's a senior, so if anyone needs to hire a neuroscience major later, please keep him in mind.

I'm sure everyone else didn't get everything they wanted done, and more power to them.

Me? I died.

Seriously, I did.

A bunch of friends of mine have had kids recently (or not-so-recently in a couple of cases. I procrastinate a lot.) and I've made it a tradition to tie-dye baby stuff for their offspring. Six last night, and another dozen today: onesies, swing dresses, t-shirts, and long johns. I was tying, rubber banding, folding, mixing dyes, and squirting stuff for waaay too long, and my back hurts. It always takes a lot longer then I thought it would.

But some of them are great. I wish I could fit in them.

Anyway, I've got to get back to the grill. For those of you worried about my proclivity for grilling vegetables, take solace in the fact that, although I've got an onion on the grill as I type, I'll be sticking a New York strip on my Patio grill as soon as I post this sucker.

UPDATE: So I got my holidays mixed up. Sorry, guys, and sorry, Pixy. The link should be fixed.