knox snooze

See ya

2006-02-23T14:58:00.000-05:00

I've moved. It's permanent. I think. Not that I don't like blogger...it's just that...ok, maybe blogger gets on my nerves a little.

Update links (ha!), bookmarks (pfft!), and RSS readers (you must be kidding).

gutrubber.org

Here's to the good times.

Mmm...eggs

2006-02-21T21:09:00.000-05:00

Mmm...eggs
Originally uploaded by ashby.

Sometimes we get eggs from a friend of ours who has a bunch of chickens. He told us that the egg on the left is small because it is from a young hen. He didn't tell us anything about the hen that laid the egg on the right, but judging from the size of it, I'm guessing it was laid by the hen that walks funny.

I don't even feel kind of guilty

2006-02-20T13:51:00.000-05:00

Not that it surprised anyone, but I didn't run Saturday. After blistering myself with longer-than-ever-before runs on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, I decided that it would be smart to take Friday to rest from running. And to resume drinking and smoking, apparently. Yes, cigarettes. They keep me warm.

When I climbed out of bed on Saturday morning, I looked out the window and felt immediately vindicated in staying home. It was less than 20Âº and there were maybe three or four places in the yard where actual ground was visible. By that, of course, I mean itsnowedd like mad. And still was. And somewhere in Strawberry Plains a bunch of tougher people than me were much,muchh colder than was absolutely necessary. Of course, they also had $20 of mine, but if that was the cost of staying in a warm living room, then it was well worth it.

When I finally got around to running again, it was Sunday. It was still cold, and I only got about a half-mile before vicious shin-splints took over. I don't know if they were technically shin-splints (which somehow seemed to always be the *out* injury of anyone who didn't feel like running when I played basketball and soccer), but it was approximately as comfortable as colliding shin first with the metal frame of the bed. Repeatedly. I finished up in the gym on an elliptical machine and a stationary bike. I don't know how long shin-splint thingies should be rested in order to heal, but I'll give them a week or so.

Holy shit, that was inane. Congrats on still being awake. As your reward, read some Paul Ford, who is America's leading genius.

What have I learned in the last 10 years? A partial list: My family is normal. Everyone toadies, and remorseless fuckers prosper. The minute anyone tells you that they want to create their own Algonquin Round Table, but with bloggers, run. Run. Also, if you can spend any time napping in a field on a summer day when you are youngerÂ?do so. That can be the place you visit in your mind when you're standing on a crowded subway, stooped with back pain, sweating like your pores are water-piks, while a beggar in stained and drooping sweatpants yells in your ear.

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone

2006-02-17T17:35:00.000-05:00

My wife is or soon should be on her merry little way to D.C. for the weekend. She and a couple of friends are having a roadtrip weekend. They actually have a personal and important matter to attend to in them parts, but from where I sit - alone, no companion but Tivo and Ye Olde Internette - they're out having fun whilst I have none.

What my wife is seeing right about now: a sign that says 'Welcome to Virginia.'

What I just saw: A note I left myself this morning, 'EMMA BENADRYL TONIGHT'

Not only are my prospects for the evening way lamer, but apparently I have the syntax of a caveman. Also, I'm pretty sure I'm not going to run tonight. Or in the 10k tomorrow. Me sad.

So...what to do? It's been a while since I've been to the bar before dark...hmmm.

Shin thingies

2006-02-16T23:51:00.000-05:00

I've been running a lot more than usual this week. This has happened because a) I miraculously DON'T lose weight when I DON'T run and b) because I have registered for a freaking 10k for this weekend.

Yes, I know. Blame drugs.

The race isn't some "Cancer Bad, Running Good" deal either. This is no fun run 'n' walk. This is a race. With race-organization certification and whatnot. Sure, some people might be having fun while the run it, but those people are crazy. But they're loony in a very in-shape kind of way. Whereas, I am very sane, and all which that implies in the current context (fatness).

But I've been cranking out the miles this week. 3 Tuesday. Almost 5 last night. But they aren't in continuous runs. They're more like Tivo-style runs, which is how everything works in my brain now. I run for a mile or so, get really tired of it, pause, and pick back up after about 30 seconds. Unlike Tivo, however, I have no fast forward. I've checked.

So, here I am, less than 36 hours until a whopping 10k, and I can't put together more than 2 miles at a time. I'm worried. I'm coming up with all kinds of excuses why I can't run. Bronchitis. Pink eye. Shin splint things. Oooh, I know: obesity.

But I'm still going, even if I don't run. I mean, I already paid for this thing, and I'm getting a free t-shirt whether they like it or not.

But it's from Sweden

2006-02-10T14:25:00.000-05:00

For my wife's birthday last weekend, we went to Atlanta. It's not our favorite town, but it's got places to shop that we don't. Like IKEA. And the Lennox Square Mall, which is hidden in a tear in space-time between some toll road and The Container Store (it was right here, I swear). We shopped, we stayed in a hotel, we saw a fecking brilliant show. And we did it. IT. Ill-freaky-na-na. In a hotel.

Good weekend.

We had only been to IKEA once before, though we had lusted after it from afar on the internet and in ReadyMade. The first time we went, we went just because we felt we should, you know. Because it was there, and we were within a four hour drive of it. I actually had the thought that I didn't want this to be like the Rock and Roll or NFL halls of fame, both of which are within 45 minutes of my hometown, though I've never seen the innards of either. No, IKEA is an icon of an aspect of my personal culture that, unlike professional football or rock and roll, cannot be ignored: cheap furniture.

The first time we went, it was fun. A field trip. Ooh, look how huge the place is. Oh, they have a nice little cafeteria. Wow, lots of cheap stuff. Everything is so wonderful. Look, I just shit a rainbow-covered pony.

The second time, the time of which we must now speak - nicht so gut.

Having rented a massive car for hauling our inevitable newly-acquired shit, we set out - rosy-cheeked and drunk with the heady prospect of dragging a metric ton (tonne?) of unassembled entertainment center out of some Swede's big blue-and-yellow warehouse. No, that isn't a euphemism. We knew how wonderful and enlightening IKEA could be. We wanted to be there again, but this time with money. Oh, how foolish we were.

There is a kind of purchasing fever that overtakes you when you're in IKEA. The alluring, cleverly designed (ooh, look this table folds up into a paperweight) and entirely unrealistic mock-ups of living spaces they have throughout the store. Living in 327 square feet. Living in 493 square feet. Clean lines, cubbies for everything, coatracks that morph into sewing machines, homes built in total defiance of the laws of physics. But no one I know could live in them. There is no room to, you know...be a slob. Where are the couches whose cushions are actually just bags of dirty laundry that I rotate out only when I scrape together enough cash for a bottle of detergent?

Wow, that's brilliant.

Of course, we also got what we wanted. An entertainment center of damn-near NASA proportions. You know, because we have a DVD player AND TiVo, which take up tons of space. There is a lot of sad empty shelf space on it now. We put all of our DVDs on it. Wireless router and cable modem. Our dozen or so remaining VHS cassettes. Um...phone books. A computer. There is so much damn space left on this piece that I'm thinking about leasing it out. Seriously. You have any shit you can't find a place for in your apartment? I've two whole freaking drawers that I haven't even touched. Although, I am thinking about keeping the dog in one.

But we're back. We bought so much stuff last time that we had to leave two chairs at my friend's house in Atlanta, which I am picking up tomorrow. And I'm already starting to get IKEA shakes. I don't know how I'm going to make it, being that close again, but with no money this time.

Maybe I could pawn some stuff.

Readymade time killa

2006-02-03T10:27:00.000-05:00

Sweet, Readymade has a blog now. Because I was running out of things. You know...things.

What are they called again?

Oh yeah, distractions.

Colibri

2006-02-02T11:42:00.000-05:00

This looks pretty cool. Even though I still don't know entirely how it works, I've had some serious Quicksilver-jealousy since becoming a regular 43Folders reader. Perhaps it's the great name, which reminds me of browsing through gift shops at the beach, wishing I knew how to surf (or look like I did, more accurately). Maybe it's the prettified Mac-fu interface. Maybe it's because it seems like anytime Merlin needs something impossible, he whips out the Quicksilver and it obeys. Over-nuked your burrito? Slash-bash-Quicksilver-Timetravel.exe, and you're good.

Oh, if only I knew what the hell I was doing...

Anyhow, Colibri is trying to bring similar desktop ninjitsu to the rest of us. And best of all, it can be installed to a USB drive, for those of us in defcon 7 cubicle-lockdown. Which I am. But don't tell.

p.s.
I think this might be the linkiest post I've ever written.

Take a lap

2006-02-02T08:27:00.000-05:00

Last night's running was a bit of a disappointment. After getting from less than a mile on Sunday to two miles on Tuesday evening, it was kind of a downer to feel totally whipped after about a mile and half last night. I didn't really eat much yesterday, though (gasp), and I intend to attribute the distance drop to that. Mostly because it justifies my conspicuous consumption today, which already includes: an egg and sausage sandwich, half a dozen fig newtons, an apple, and a Diet Dr. Pepper (yes, I'm getting a sex change).

The upside of last night's running, though, was that I had new shoes. And not just some cheapest-pair-I-could-find from a hilariously named sporting goods store; no, these are from The Runner's Market. Which makes them better. And probably more expensive.

They were a replacement for the sad joke I'd been running in since Sunday. I have a pair of old trail runners, but I left them at a friend's house in Virginia. Which is good, because I do all of my trail running at his house. Well, at least as much trail running as I do here.

At the Runner's Market, I was helped by a girl who was determined to sell me some shoes. It wasn't the old-school hard sell. Not "What's it gonna take to get you into a new pair of Asics" spiel. No, this was a new one. She laced up a pair and after I had them tied, she told me to go run in them. Like, outside? Yes. Around the parking lot. Go.

So I did. Four pairs of shoes. Four mini-laps in the parking lot. No wonder I couldn't go two miles.

Baby steps

2006-02-01T10:15:00.000-05:00

My freaking legs hurt so much today. It's not a good kind of I'm-finally-getting-in-shape pain. It's more of an I'm-seriously-considering-double-amputation pain.

Someone is very slowly driving bits of glass into my shins.

This is the hard part, right? Right? Tell me I'll feel better tomorrow.

Everyone loves a comeback story

2006-01-31T18:55:00.000-05:00

It's been a while since I've done anything about it, but the October marathon deadline is looming in the back of my mind. No, I didn't run the New Year's day 5k. I know I said I would, but I didn't. It was a bad idea all around.

The next race I had planned is the Strawberry Plains 10k. If it follows a completed 5k by six weeks, it isn't such a bad thing. But if it follows...um...whatever the hell it is I've been doing, then it's a bit more of a challenge.

So, as it stands now, the idea is to get to the point of being able to complete the 10k at a jog. At least. Doesn't sound too ambitious to you? My moobs tell a different story.

I can't ride the bike as "training" any more. It's good for losing weight and being healthy, but the fact is that I just need to run. So I'm doing that. Sort of. My non-stop running distances thus far this week are 0.75 miles on Sunday (a complete embarrassment), 1 mile last night (slightly less shameful), and 2 miles tonight. 2 miles, which frankly feels like a damn marathon all by itself.

I doubt I can increase my distance at that rate for the next three weeks, but I'm way further into it than I though I would be on Saturday night.

Pronounced: "Gruh"

2006-01-30T08:40:00.000-05:00

Remember how in high school the SAT or ACT was always offered on Saturday morning? Probably the morning after the prom or homecoming too. It was like the powers-that-were (you know...the man) had decided that they were going to not only force us to take these damn tests, but they were also going to make it as difficult as possible for to succeed on them. At least, those of us who didn't have the good sense not to stay out until two in the morning on the day before the test.

Well, now I have to take the GRE. And it's different in a couple of important ways. Way 1: It's a hell of a lot more expensive. Way 2: I'm paying for it myself.

The upside, however, is that I get to have a little more choice in its scheduling, which is why I chose today. So, yeah, I have to take some four-hour test with a bunch of grad school hopefuls who just discovering their curly hairs when I started college the first time, but at least I get out of half a Monday of work.

These boots were made for hunting

2006-01-29T01:30:00.000-05:00

I bought a pair of boots today. Some would call them cowboy boots. Yes, I know it's almost indescribably hilarious that I have a pair of cowboy boots, but keep in mind that I bought them at the mall. At Journeys. Which makes it even more laughable than you thought before.

I've never had a pair of cowboy boots before, and there's part of me that feels like I need to put on the rest of a halloween costume when I'm wearing them. That, or make out with Heath Ledger. Also, there's part of me that thinks, "Holy shit, I'm like three inches taller in these." Which pretty much outweighs any shame I should feel for wearing them.

There's no avoiding the fact that you feel different when you wear boots like these. You should probably feel kind of like a poseur if you are not a) a cowboy, b) a country musician, c) a stripper, or d) some holy combination of all three. But, you might be like me, which means you feel no real shame (about pretty much anything, actually), and so you feel like a total badass. A total badass who is now finally approaching six feet tall.

So after a couple of hours of wearing them while watching Saturday night Brit Comedies on PBS (someone else, please find that hilarious), I finally got to put them to good use. I heard a crash outside the house and leapt to my well-booted feet. I grabbed my Marksman BB gun (seriously) and stepped out the back door just in time to peg a fat raccoon as he stumbled off my trashcan.

I totally shot a raccoon. In my boots. With a $35 Wal-Mart BB gun.

And then I clip-clopped back into the living room to tell the internet about it. Somewhere, a posse is being organized to beat my college-boy ass into a pulp.

Routes to hell

2006-01-27T16:59:00.000-05:00

After the ocular torture of yesterday, I decided the best way to salve my burning vision would be to join my friends at a smoke-filled bar for a loud show/CD release party/drinkathon by one of our favorite bands.

This is the kind of thinking that is going to get me into a good grad school?

While at the show, I had a revelation: I am a horrible human being. At the booth in front of our were three cute girls. And they were all signing to each other (no, not singing...signing). And snuggling. A lot.

Evil thought #1: Deaf girl-on-girl would be totally hot.
Evil thought #2: Those lucky bastards never have to shout to be heard at a bar.

And then the devil appeared next to me and was all like, "Come on, dude, there is a line, you know."

Mine eyes have seen the ouch

2006-01-26T21:17:00.000-05:00

The thing they never tell you about trying to be a full-time gubment worker and a part-time student is all the freaking eyeball strain you go through. Not only did I choose to work in front of a computer, staring at spreadsheets and databases all day, but I also voluntarily elected to major in English. English. The major with the very worst eyeball strain to possible-paycheck-upon-graduation ratio ever. Even worse than Retinascratchology.

So, after a nice long day of staring deep into a monitor full of numbers, I went to a class where we stare at a chalkboard, appreciating (theoretically) the nuances of the International Phonetic Alphabet and all its itty-bitty characters.

And then to the library for three hours of German homework.

So, here I am in the library. Big tears of blood dripping down my cheeks. But, at least they have purrty computers here, which are much easier on the eyes than the industrial strength Dell rubbish I normally stare at.

Seriously, this iMac is actually beautiful. I think I need to get one of these.

I just had to ride my bike today

2006-01-25T14:19:00.000-05:00

Stewie Lives!
Originally uploaded by ashby.

Stewie Griffin: The Untold Story has been sitting on top of my Blobkbuster queue for a long time. Right at number 1. Sure, I could have picked it up at the store (or bought it), but I am a Blockbuster Online member, damn it, and my DVDs come in the mail.

Now it's here. And if I was any more excited, I'd need my diaper changed.

But, of course, after not riding my bike to work in about three weeks, I got all ambitious this morning and decided to pedal in. Which means an extra 30 agonizing minutes before I can bask in the animated light of Stewie's greatness.

The quick brown fox...

2006-01-24T22:03:00.000-05:00

Every time I see a fridge with magnetic poetry on it, I feel compelled, as does every red-blooded American, to write something dirty. You think the people who come up with those tiles are thinking anything else? No, they have a big clean lab with a bunch of old fridges in it, and they go around seeing what dirty things they can write.

"He aroused my muffin with a moustache."

"Come up under her hand basket quietly."

I don't have the magnetic poetry. Maybe I'm worried that the magic will be gone because I've become so calloused to the all the tawdry possibilities of these suggestive magnetic words.

Or maybe, I've just learned to be happy with my multicolored alphabet magnets from Kroger with which I've spelled out "Lick my nude fog bar."

If you know what I mean.

Sicknesses

2006-01-23T20:50:00.000-05:00

My wife and I have spent the better (or was it worse) part of the last week being sick. Sick as hell. Industrial-strength-lubricants-out-of-the-nose sick. Good-thing-we-don't-have-a-gun sick. Real. Damn. Sick.

I think I'm getting over it now. I spent two days out of work last week, which was the first time I think I've done that in a couple of years. Faith, on the other hand, was so sick today that she had to be replaced at work by a woman who is due to give birth to her first child on Wednesday.

What do you mean you can't come into work because your water just broke? I'm spewing geysers of mucous here, lady. Get your pregnant ass into the office.

The result of all the sickness and staying-homeness of the last week is that we have sort of devolved into a kind of sub-human stumbling and muttering around the house. Pain and nausea are communicated by similar grunts that can only be differentiated by highly trained anthropologists. And us. It's just too much damn work to talk. What with all the mouth moving and listening and keeping our eyes open...it's really quite taxing.

I think we might need an intervention now, though. I just sent her an instant message (sickness be damned, we need internet-medicine), asking her to mute Gaim while we're messaging each other. Cause I'm ten feet away. And cranky like only an over-internetted invalid can be.

Buy stuff

2006-01-17T11:43:00.000-05:00

We're selling out. Starting with our car. It's a Silver 2001 Saturn SC1. It has ridiculous fuel efficiency - like 40 MPG on the highway and about 30 in the city. It's the basic version - manual transmission, CD player, no cruise, no intermit wipers, but it runs really well. You'll get a really good deal if you want it. Seriously.

Bass Track

2006-01-17T10:37:00.000-05:00

There are several parking garages around campus. The one we were stuck in is the most closed-in and catacombish (a word I made up). Three of the parking levels are underground, and the ramps from one to the next are tunnels encased in concrete, which act quite effectively as bass resonators if you happen to be caught in one with some dude in a truck behind you who is trying to see if the ridiculous dB capacity of his system is enough to actually bring the building down, Babel-style. The windows of our car didn't rattle - they buzzed like they were about disintegrate at a molecular level. We experienced actual pain. I told her I was going to ask him to turn it down, and she reached over to tell me no, but right as she tried, another bass note hit and shook her arm loose from the socket, rendering it temporarily useless. I got out of the car and turned back to face the enormous chrome grill of a full-sized (oversized, if that's possible) of his truck. We made eye contact. I mouthed "can you turn that down" and held my hand in front of my face while pointing toward the floor. Nothing but a blank look from him. I walked to the window of his truck and he rolled it down (the window, not the truck). "Can you turn that down?" "What?" "I said, CAN YOU TURN THAT DOWN?"

And just like that, he wanted to fight me. Get out of his face. Get out of his truck. Don't tell HIM what to do with HIS shit. Turn my shit up if I can't hear it.

And he got out of the truck. I said, "I'm not trying to listen to anything, but your bass is hurting our ears. I'm just asking you to turn it down."

I went back to the car and told her I was just going to walk back to my office.

I had to go past him again to get to the stairs. He was still out of his truck, more cars lined up behind him because he wouldn't move. His bass track still ruining everyone's morning. He said, "I turned it down. You happy, motherfucker?" I asked him his name, to which he responded by asking my name. I said, "I'm Ashby, and I work here." He said, "I don't fucking care. I'm PFC Anchor, and you can't tell me what to do, motherfucker."

I walked up the stairs, and heard him yell something about come back and stand up like a man. I thought of so much to say. My pulse had to be 200bpm. He could have, and surely would have, beaten my ass. He might have done worse, but I didn't care. All I wanted to do was fight him. It took more effort than I thought I could exert to ignore him. Halfway back to my office, and I was still think of reasons to turn around and go find him.

PFC Anchor. Or was it Eckard. PFC. Fuck, and he had a handicapped hangtag on his rearview (though he looked plenty limber and ready to go to me).

How terrible of a person am I if I find out this guy I'm pissed at is a wounded veteran, just back from Iraq, who went off on me because he's having a terrible day...maybe because he found out that all the money he was promised for school isn't here for him? Or that he's just irritated because he's spending another day with a bunch of Greek-letter jackasses who are four years younger than him and two years closer to graduation?

I should give him the benefit of the doubt, but all I keep thinking is, "fucking jarheads."

Driving my phone

2006-01-13T11:51:00.000-05:00

I don't make a lot of money. I make below average money, but I live in East Tennessee, so it's good enough for here. And, considering the extent (or lack thereof) of my work experience and inconsistent education (Anyone want to hire a hard-drinking expert on Bible trivia and poetry? Call me), it's actually pretty great. Also, I'm writing this while on the clock. Not bad.

Bill paying is a monthly routine of juggling grace periods, minimum payments, and worrying about who has the worst late fees. I'm the All-American consumer, and I'm might be single-handedly keeping the new Home Depot on my side of town in the black.

Lately, I've been doing better, though. Haven't had to use one of the ubiquitous check-cashing services in over a year, and everything gets paid online.

The bill-paying service from my bank lists all of my payees with little check-boxes next to each. I just click on the payments I want to make, and fill in the amount. Unfortunately, this also means that "Saturn" and "Sprint" are right next to each other. And could theoretically get their amounts mixed up. And by "theoretically," I mean I did that earlier this week. Oh well, at least I won't have to worry about paying my phone bill for a while.

So now I'm off to throw a couple dummy accounts in there between "Comcast" and "Countrywide Mortgage." Because I don't really need to prepay a year of broadband.

For Brian, who sweats

2006-01-12T12:10:00.000-05:00

Brian, the desktop/network/printer/Novell/M$ ninja at my office, is busting his ass today, moving his boss and his boss' boss to their new offices in another part of the building. He gets to do all their heavy lifting because they are both ~~bitches~~ ladies, and we all know how tough it can be to move a box full of paper weights, books, and general desk flotsam if one does not have a penis. And, while not a material witness to the fact, I am pretty certain he is the owner of a penis...mostly because of the swift and efficient manner in which he moves heavy objects.

Anyway, Brian's a good guy having a shitty day. If you're someone's boss, don't be such a dick, ok?

Country Boys

2006-01-10T11:13:00.000-05:00

I watched the first installment of the new Frontline series Country Boys on PBS last night. The second part is tonight and the third tomorrow. If the rest of it shapes up like the first two hours did, it's well worth watching. And while I'd TiVo it if I was in possession of that sort of technology, each episode (two hours worth) will be streamed on the PBS website the day after they are aired. Which means you can get part one there right now, though I'm having trouble getting their servers to wake up and send it. But, once you get it running, each episode is broken into 15-20 minute segments, making it very watchable while at work...er...in smaller chunks.

Disclosure...sort of

2006-01-10T02:17:00.000-05:00

In the spirit of celebrating my anniversary, let me give you kiddies a little piece of advice about being married: communication is everything.

So, I'll mention now that I just bought a microphone from Amazon in the middle of the night with a credit card that is so close to maxed out that it can barely breathe.

And if my wife doesn't know about it, it will be her own fault for not reading this.

See, it really is amazing that I've been married this long.

Ball and chain

2006-01-09T13:26:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was my anniversary. Six years. It may not sound like a lot, but it's sort of astonishing to me that I've been married that long. On one hand, I would have never expected to still feel so much like a bumbling, naive newlywed after six years, but on the other, I never imagined that being married would become such an inherent and dominant part of my identity. I've screwed up many times, but I don't know if I would change the way things have unfolded if I could. I'm really happy to be here.

Hoppy New Beer!

2006-01-03T16:06:00.000-05:00

That post title has nothing to do with anything. Other than I often feel compelled to replace words and phrases with others that sound similar. It's an outgrowth of the childish impulse to disregard things by repeating them and replacing the first syllable with "shm." As in, "Blog, shmog, I'll post something later." I call it "Shmitis." And I have it bad. Shmad.

Things I did since last I was here: switched to linux (Ubuntu, and it rules), went to Virginia, drank lots of Maker's Mark.

Alcoholism, shmalcoholism.

Things I didn't do: run that 5k on New Year's Day, feel shame for watching James Bond movies every freaking day.

Anyone else watch "The Biggest Loser" marathon on Bravo (cable is ruining me) all day yesterday? From the couch? And not fully appreciate the irony until your spouse got home and said, "Have you been there since I left for work this morning?"

Yeah, me neither.

Lanham

2005-12-22T11:06:00.000-05:00

Perhaps you already know all about him and his great art, but I just found David Lanham. Really great work, I must say. I'm not a fan of clunky desktop themes or kitzchy icon sets, but I think I might actually use some of his. Some of his work is featured pretty prominently among lifehacker's desktop show and tell crowd.

And let's face it, I found it on the internet. Which means it's awesome. Awesome to the max.

Does this commercial make me look fat?

2005-12-21T13:06:00.000-05:00

I don't think she's got an over-large booty, but I can't help chuckling at Brendan Koerner's description of the annoying Nokia commercial girl's "bejunked trunk."

Now that's good writing.

Nerd stuff

2005-12-20T18:23:00.000-05:00

I've been playing with the personalization options on the Google homepage. Specifically, I'm trying to build modules. Modules are to Google what widgets are to Yahoo. And since I can't install any cool stuff on my computer at work, I'm trying to build a cool Google homepage and create it as and active desktop in my office. Thus, I should be able to have a widgety desktop anyway.

Look, I work in a gray cubicle. I have to do something to keep myself entertained.

Anyway, the first one I made is the playlist scroller for KEXP 90.3 Seattle. I listen to it in Windows Media Player (yet another joy of working in an office where PC timkering is verboten), which doesn't show the current song and artist, and I hate keeping an entire browser window open to see the playlist scroller in one tiny little corner of it.

So, to anyone who knows about this kind of crap, take a look at the module I made, and tell me how to do it better. Danke.

Has anyone else whipped up one of these? Want to share? I'd really like to make a Google module version of my favorite Yahoo widget.

Embracing my inner jerk

2005-12-20T14:37:00.000-05:00

I have a dog and two cats. The cats I like. The first cat we got from a friend who lived down the street when we were first married. He (the cat, not the friend) is kind of an asshole who likes to be fed just before dawn, but we generally get along. I'm pretty sure the second cat is mentally retarded, which is fine. I get along really well with retards. I am totally smarter than her and I control her food. She thinks I rule a small planet that is full of kitty chow, and that I periodically go there, whip the people into submission and return with my plunder of delicious food, which she then eats as if she has never tasted it before and it is totally blowing her mind.

But the dog is a different story. Her name is Emma, and she's really sweet. She doesn't want to be a problem. Honestly, she just wants to sleep on the couch, leak pee onto it, and for no one to raise their voice above a whisper while she is in the room. She's got some cowardice issues. As in, loud farts make her knees buckle in fear.

We've had Emma for a year now. And I thought she would become more comfortable around us and grow braver and more friendly. And I guess she has a little, but she still pees out of fear/excitement/idiocy when I get home. And I thought that maybe it would irritate me less when I was out of school for a while and had more time to exercise her and I wasn't as stressed out. But, I've been out of school for about a week now, and I just want her to go away. It's bad, I know. She's just a dog. She just wants to be loved, and I want her to die quietly or run away.

Who wants a doggy for Christmas?

Sm'uther stuff

2005-12-16T13:52:00.000-05:00

I hesitate to do this out of respect/recognition of the brazillion other blogs that do this kind of shit, but here's what I've found worth reading today:

Scott Adams offers a profound scatalogical/eschatological consideration of cloning and its possible benefits, including, I think, solosexuality...or something like that.
PA's Tycho goes off on Wikipedia and the general circlejerk-like editing frenzy that generally overtakes an entry of great import. You know, like Pokemon.
Damiam Kulash of OK GO would like to tear Sony a new one.

And there you have it. Blogwhoring 101. Can't we snuggle a little before you leave?

Mo betta beta

2005-12-16T13:46:00.000-05:00

Yahoo mail beta
Originally uploaded by ashby.

My yahoo email just got the new yahoo mail beta green light. I'm so happy.

So far, it's great. It automatically imported all my RSS feeds that I had in my.yahoo.com, and it's actually a lot easier to keep up with and read them from this interface. The email functionality of it, appropriately, is also great. Totally seamless, and it utilizes single keystroke commands for common tasks - "f" for forward and so on (ala gmail).

It doesn't have TXT messaging integrated yet, which would be nice. During the day, my wife and I communicate almost exclusively by text messages (healthy, I know), and I'd like to see a right-click menu "Send Text" option for each of my contacts whose mobile phone numbers are entered in my address book.

Also, for some reason it isn't playing well with my Odeo RSS feed. It displays the new audio heading and description, but the link just goes to the host site for that clip (NPR, KCRW, etc). Of course, that may be an Odeo thing too.

Anyone else get the ymail beta recently?

Fabulous

2005-12-14T13:11:00.000-05:00

I just finished finals and a 23-page paper that's been lodged in my brain like...like an impacted bowel. That's right, like petrified poo. I couldn't be happier.

So now I get a few weeks of lying around, watching TV, and sipping bourbon. Oh, and going to work still, I guess, but I never really pay attention much there. I mean here. Cause I'm at work now. I'm sorry, did you say something?

And as a random insight into my life, take this. I'm not gay, but I'm really hoping to get a TiVO for Christmas so I can record a new show that starts in January. (doesn't their picture make you want to blow cigarette smoke right in their faces?)

Also, as Palmer was so good to point out to me, there is precious little time separating me from my first race. Better start my carb-loading now.

Ooh, look, there's an infomercial on

2005-12-11T17:41:00.000-05:00

I have three final exams/projects in the next 72 hours. I have a lot to do for each of them. And I would rather do just about anything in the world right now.

I choose napping.

I can't feel my feelers

2005-12-09T13:57:00.000-05:00

Wednesday night was an end of the semester party at a professor's house. There was a .750 of Maker's Mark. For a little while, at least. The party went well into Thursday, and I was driven home and re-delivered to the house at 7 a.m. to pick up my truck and go to work. I think it was seven degrees. Kelvin.

And then last night I went to see the opening of The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe and could we squeeze some more words into the title of this movie? Since it began at midnight and featured 158 trailers, teasers, commercials and pleas for money and attention of any sort, it wasn't actually over until close to three. And then I came to work again today.

So now, about two hours after a couple plates heaped with delicious Indian food, I can barely keep my eyes open. It's Friday. Someone tell my boss to send me home.

Nobody tells me anything around here

2005-12-08T09:42:00.000-05:00

I don't know if I am just really slow to pick up on things or if there is an elaborate conspiracy to keep me in the dark (perhaps a sinister, booze-fueled combination of the two?), but I only just now saw that Knoxville has been added to Craigslist.

I've always been jealous of other cities that were part of Craigslist, and I would spend hours, days even, browsing through listings for old typewriters, books, bicycles, man-love...er...used cars and yearn for the day when I too would live in a Craigslist city. And now that day is here. And I am sooo going to be hungover tomorrow.

Woo, we're on Craiglist. Let's get trashed.

Now we just need to get some people with really cool stuff to move here so they can sell it to us for cheap.

Oh my

2005-12-07T09:08:00.000-05:00

I just heard the news, and I don't know what to do with myself. I feel like I should start stocking up on chips and beer for the office.

A collective forehead smack

2005-12-06T12:38:00.000-05:00

We all know that UT spends a lot of money on athletics, especially football. Not everyone agrees with it, but they also make an assload of money. Generally, I feel like the athletic department makes some high-profile boo-boos, but that they operate in the black every year, and they give more to the UT and Knoxville community than they take.

But there are times when I really wonder what they are thinking. Yes, perhaps stadium renovation is needed, and will be more expensive than expected. But seriously, how can they point out the need for housing in the Gulf states and ask for $9 million more (added to the $107 million they already have budgeted) for extra concession stands?

5-6 season + asking state for $9 mil extra = kissing goals 1 and 2 goodbye.

Pathetic or ambitious?

2005-12-05T14:35:00.000-05:00

This morning it was raining. And cold. And early. And my truck was looking so lonely in the driveway. So I drove it to work instead of riding the bike. And it was good.

But when I got to work, I found out my morning class was canceled, which would leave me with an actual lunch hour. And it stopped raining. And, lo, I felt guilty for driving my truck, which has about the same fuel-efficiency as an asthmatic Unimog.

So I drove home on my lunch break and traded the truck for the bike. Now, having just pedalled back to work, I'm wondering what the good of that was. I didn't actually save any gas, and I could have gotten the same (more, even) exercise by going to the gym down the street after work. Also, I could have eaten an actual lunch if I had just stayed here, instead of this hopefully-not-stale Clif Bar.

Mmm...soy and hindsight. Delicious.

Odeo

2005-12-02T18:17:00.000-05:00

I've recently become a big fan of the podcast catch-all website Odeo. It's a great tool for finding podcasts that I can just listen to at work without worrying about hauling around my mp3 player with me everywhere I go (this might be the pinnacle of laziness "No, not the mp3 player. What if I hurt my arms carrying it?") Also, it has a nifty little do-it-yourself podcast creation thingy. With about 10 or 12 clicks and some keystrokes, I had set up a channel, recorded my first podcast (under a minute, thanks), and even slapped a picture on there.

The internets are amazing.

Carol-canceling headphones?

2005-12-01T14:05:00.000-05:00

Welcome to the first day of December. The day upon which the radio station my cubicle neighbor listens to switches to all Christmas music. All the time. I've only been overhearing it for about four hours, and already I'm thinking killing her could be reasonably construed as self-defense.

Anyone have experience puncturing eardrums?

In which I elaborate upon something

2005-11-28T16:16:00.000-05:00

I'm sad that the longest weekend of the year is gone. I lived it up, baby. Big meals, good wine, football on the television and naps in the afternoon. At one point I found my only reference for what day of the week it was was (holy crap, I said "was" twice in a row) whatever football game was on TV. Lions on Thursday, Texas on Friday, Tennessee on Saturday, and the other (slightly worse) Tennessee on Sunday.

You think I'm joking?

And you know how you go into a four-day weekend like that thinking about all the things you're going to get done? I wasn't. Seriously. Sure, there were things I needed to do - things I still need to do, actually - but I didn't pretend I was going to get any of it accomplished. Did I suffer for it? Do I feel guilty? Am I overwhelmed with tasks that I put off and now must slave through into the wee hours because it is, as they say, time to pay the piper? Not really.

It turns out that when I lower my expectations, even the most mundane shit excites me. I learned to make vegan gravy on Saturday night. I built a shoe rack yesterday. I took a couple of good dumps.

And I couldn't be prouder of me.

You gotta be kidding

2005-11-21T13:51:00.000-05:00

After the surprising results of the previous two weeks, I decided to change my tactic some this week. Perhaps I had gained weight that was actually just quad muscle from riding the bike so much. And maybe even less smoking was better (a real moment of insight, I know).

So, this week saw a decrease in cigarettes (3 for the whole week...that's actual cigarettes, not packs) AND bike mileage. I still rode about 40 miles, but I didn't tack on a whole day of 25-mile riding-for-the-hell-of-it goodness. I had a few drinks, for sure, but beers were gradually replaced by bourbon-fortified cider drinks. They still have calories, of course, but just not as many as the beer I normally drink.

And I gained more weight. Same scale. Same time of day. Same lack of food in my belly in the morning. This means that my cigarette smoking has almost completely dropped off, my drinking has decreased, and my level of physical activity is much (much) higher than three weeks ago. And I've picked up a total of five pounds in that time.

So I'm going to do what anyone with a mind as scientifically inclined as mine would do. I'm going to try to smoke and drink more this week.

My wife is so happy.

Bikecommute: The Ouchening

2005-11-17T12:03:00.000-05:00

You know, I love riding my bike. The weirdness. The inherent goodness. The gut-trimming freeness of the fuel.

And when it's cold like it is around here right now, I love the badass-validation I get from pedalling to work. But, I have to admit, much as I love knowing that my quads are a veritable caloric blast-furnace when I'm on my bike, I'm kind of over the feeling of ball-peen hammers pounding me just above the knees as I climb hills in the bitter cold.

Cycle o' the seasons

2005-11-16T12:16:00.000-05:00

Inspiration: the testicles of sea creatures.

So, last week, it was a difficult, but important, choice I made to ride my bike to work instead of driving my truck when I knew I was going to be late. Just to give you a little insight into how my mind (doesn't) work: I've already gotten to the point where I just don't give a rat's ass if I'm late. My bike is a good excuse for being late. "Why was I late? Because I rode my bike, you fat jackass."

I mean, that's how it would go if I had a spine.

This morning was colder and wetter than a Narwhal's balls, but I rode anyway. It makes me feel strong. Which, incidentally, is how people at work describe my aroma.

Slightly used shit

2005-11-15T10:00:00.000-05:00

I've got a lot of crap around my house. And I don't have much money. With that in mind, I'm going to sell some stuff. Want a mediocre VCR/DVD player? I'm your man. VHS copy of Benny and Joon? Hell, yeah, I've got that. Lucky for you, it's all got to go, and I won't be undersold.

What exactly is underselling, by the way? And why should I care if car dealers are determined not to be?

I am torn between separating things out and taking them to trade-in places (books, CDs, movies) and selling them online, or if I should just put it all in a big box (or 12), mark them "happy good plus," and sell it as one lot on ebay or craigslist.

Any ideas? Bids?

Cocksville

2005-11-14T11:28:00.000-05:00

The University of Tennessee is so lucky. Tomorrow, we get a visit from VP Dick Cheney. Wednesday, we get writer Frank Deford.

And thus we will have, not one, but two visits from men who have names that are euphemisms for "wiener."

Some student group is also planning to put Cheney "on trial" while he is here. I'm pretty sure he isn't actually planning on attending, nor is anyone paying attention (except me, which is sort of worse than no one). And, as much as I sympathize with their impulse, isn't this just going to be a room full of people shouting about how evil Cheney is?

I think this is what frustrated people did before blogging.

Sonofa

2005-11-14T08:39:00.000-05:00

I'm overweight. On the order of 40 pounds. Last week I ate well, drank more water (and less beer), smoked fewer cigarettes and biked over 50 miles.

And gained 2 pounds.

Damn it.

The progressification

2005-11-13T17:11:00.000-05:00

Last week I decided to keep a daily count of the cigarettes I smoke. I have a dry-erase board on the fridge that we use for grocery lists and the like, so I added a column for "Ashby's Cigarettes." The board sort of serves as an aggregation of all the things we need as the week goes on, and we try to wipe it clean every Monday.

Last week: 9 cigarettes (impressive, right?)
This week: 8 cigarettes (more so, I know)

I've also added a column for miles biked. I travel a few fairly regular routes around town, so, depending upon the reliability of the extremely handy gmap pedometer, I pedalled about 55 miles this week. As opposed to less than 20 last week.

The running begins in earnest next weekend, so I'll have another column for that.

I'm going to need a larger dry-erase board.

Uncle Billy

2005-11-11T16:18:00.000-05:00

A friend of mine just pointed me to the Nobel Prize acceptance speech of William Faulkner in 1949. It's a pretty tasty little morsel. What have I learned?

"There is only the question: When will I be blown up?"

But I must depart with him on one point. He wants me to write of the heart, not of the glands. And I catch his meaning, but it has been my experience (and I am short on experience) that the beating of the heart is often made bearable through the functioning of the glands.

The lateness

2005-11-11T12:53:00.000-05:00

I think I made a critical decision this morning. Well, not critical exactly, but mildly important. I have been riding my bike to work every day. This works because a) I'm poor, b) I need the exercise and 3) it's better for the earth or some such horseshit. And, of course, it takes me longer than driving. Like, three times as long.

So, when I woke up this morning, five minutes after I should have left on my bike, I decided not to get in my truck and drive it. On one hand, I felt bad that I was going to be late. But let's face facts, I'm not exactly rescuing humanity from the brink of destruction at my job, and if I'm ever going to really commit to getting everywhere on my bike or public transportation, I'm going to have to learn to deal with getting up in time to do so.

So, with plenty of time to shower and drive to my office, I called my boss to let him know I had overslept. It felt important at the time.

Man, I sure hope my truck doesn't read this.

New toilet reading

2005-11-10T11:31:00.000-05:00

Inspiration: free t-shirts.

My non-running running book arrived today. I read the introduction, and I have to say, I'm pretty pumped. I don't want to go out and run or anything, but I'm definitely excited about my ability at least finish the book. Which is something.

So, I have to wait until the new year to sign up for the Chicago Marathon. This could be a bad thing. I was counting on the committment of registering and paying the entry fees for Faith and me to keep me going. Now I have to find a way to stay focused for another six weeks until registration opens. To that end, I've signed up for two other races: a 10K in February and a half-marathon in March. Also, there's the KTC membership money to keep me focused.

Also, I had totally forgotten the free t-shirt aspect of running in *actual* road races (as opposed to the fake ones where it's just me and that guy with my wallet). So, even though I'm dropping more money on race entry fees, I'm scoring more t-shirts. And if you've ever seen them, you know that these t-shirts are totally worth it. First, they've got the whole "I ran a race, so blow me" prestige thing going on. Second, they're usually so covered in sponsor logos that they can double as good reading material if you've got some down time (like waiting for me in the hospital because I collapsed at mile 0.8). Third, like those from the Straw Plains race, some of them are actually totally sweet shirts.

It's too bad they don't give free pants too. Cause if I finish even a half-marathon in March, I'm going to shit the ones I'm wearing.

And the final count is

2005-11-10T00:30:00.000-05:00

Inspiration: the sweet blessed sleep of the tired and hungry.

Someone do some math for me. Today I had one cranberry scone, one cup of coffee, one soy mocha, four fig newtons, some fries, a chicken sandwich and two beers. And a Camel Light. Also, I biked about six miles.

If anyone sees it tonight, tell Thursday morning there's no rush to get here. I can wait.

Any food is possible

2005-11-09T14:14:00.000-05:00

Inspiration: sweet vending machine lovin.

As far as I can tell right now, I think the biggest hurdle for me to overcome in this whole training process will be learning not to put stupid stuff in my body. Like cigarettes. Or eleven beers. Ten, yes; eleven, don't be ridiculous.

And no less a temptation than the smokey goodness of a cigarette is the crinkly, cellophane-wrapped seduction of vending machines. Vending machines that are strategically placed every 40 inches or so around this campus, so as to ensure the balloonification of my buttcheeks.

So, having brought no lunch with me today, and having no money at my dispoal, other than the coin or six I could rustle up from my trusty paperclip/highliter/rubberband/postage/change drawer (you know the one), I went to the vending machines, determined to find something moderately healthy, bolstered by the faint hope that maybe the vending machine guy had started stocking something healthy and actually closer in value to the $1 or .75 everything goes for.

(That paragraph is all one gigantic sentence. Strunk & White can blow me.)

I found Fig Newtons. I guess they've always been there, but I had never paid much attention to them because, let's face it, what retard is dropping three quarters on something whose manufacturer insists we not call it a cookie? Answer: Ahem...right here.

They weren't bad. No Swiss Cake Rolls (which is what I had secretly hoped was the only thing in the machine - which would be a sign from God), but actually sort of filling. And, as the packaging indicated with a large "Anything Is Possible" logo, it is the "official snack partner" of the Ironman. Or was, at least (mmm...year-old Newtons).

And just when I was beginning to think that these things might be able to hold a regular place in my diet, I went to their website (cause I have a government job). There, for everyone to see, were "recipies" for things one could theoretically make with said Newtons. The list includes such culinary delights as Peanut Butter & Fig Newton Smoothies, Fig Newton Chicken Salad Roll-Ups, and, my personal favorite, Ham & Cheese Fig Newtons - which, as you can imagine, is very popular with triathletes on race day. "Ham AND cheese on a Newton? Don't mind if I do. Pass me another bottle of bottle of heavy gravy, please."

So: Newtons 1, Camels 0.

I wonder how one goes about getting an official snack partner anyway.

This doesn't count

2005-11-08T10:33:00.001-05:00

I haven't written a scrap of poetry or fiction since November began. Why is this? Let's pretend it's in protest, and therefore meaningful. Or meaningless, I can't remember which is better.

Walking is the new running

2005-11-08T10:33:00.000-05:00

Inspiration: This dude.

Faith and I decided to get up this morning in time to go for a walk. We would have gone for a run, but we're not really in any shape yet. Mostly, we're just trying to get used to getting up at the crack of dark to move our pasty limbs about.

We took the dog with us. Normally, she's very excited to go outside, and she eventually figured out that this was indeed a walk and not some other occult-related activity undertaken 'neath the cloak of pre-dawn blackness. I, on the other hand, am still not enamored with the idea of morning constitutional when it is that damn cold.

How cold? Colder than a Yeti's buttcheek.

I also rode the bike to work, so I've gotten a decent amount of blood-pumping activity in already. Plus, I've got a pile of thrill-a-minute data entry staring me down for the rest of the day. I should probably take an aspirin just in case.

I also ordered a book from Amazon last night. That's right, my first money spent in the marathoning endeavor. Big time stuff. I'm also about to mail off my KTC membership form so Faith and I can join in on all the fun.

We're in it now. Huzzah.

Progress: run a what now?

2005-11-07T13:34:00.000-05:00

So, I haven't done any *actual* running since I decided to enter a marathon next year. And, while I've heard running is a somewhat significant part of training for a marathon, I don't want to get burnt out. You know, like Barry Sanders did. That would be tragic.

I did manage to take a little bike ride on Saturday, though. It was over 10 miles, but it's exercise benefits were probably marginal at best. Especially when one considers the two egg mcmuffins (hey, I needed fuel and they're cheaper than gas) I wolfed down before the ride and the pizza and pints I had afterward.

Sunday: nada. Unless you count the laps across the house as I spent half an hour with the geniuses at ~~the New Delhi Radio Shack~~ Belkin, trying to re-install my router. At one point, their solution was to uninstall Firefox and use only Internet Explorer. Because my browser might be screwing up the router? I suggested it might be because I was wearing pants. Because I like to think getting naked fixes everything.

Today: so far, not much. My wife came to my office for lunch and we walked about a mile. I've eaten pretty well (veggie lasagna, apple, Naked Juice), and if I pretend I didn't have a cigarette and a fritter after class this morning, then I'm doing pretty well.

My buddy Pervis was down for the weekend and gave me some enlightening tips on training for a marathon. He's completed four marathons and has that annoying lean, tall build that makes me want to just beat the hell out of him for being healthy. Which I totally could do if I could only catch him.

So, per the advice of Perv, I'm getting a subscription to a magazine, training with a buddy (Meine Frau), focusing on cross-training as well as running, and scheduling a race or two between now and the marathon.

Pervis, does smoking a cigarette while walking count as cross-training? What if I'm wearing trail-runners?

What, you don't think I can?

2005-11-03T11:57:00.000-05:00

Inspiration: the sight of my belly wobbling when I brush my teeth

While I only have the second most manias per month (MPM) of anyone I know, I think I am actually going to go after this one with a little more dedication than the others normally get. What is this one? A marathon. And just to make it more exciting for me, I've chosen a marathon that meanders through a city that is filled to the brim with the most delicious hot dogs on earth.

I played basketball in high school and soccer in college (version 1.0), and I actually used to be in great, not just good, shape. And I ran a lot. And it was fun. And then I met beer and cigarettes.

I've wanted to get back to running for a few years, but I haven't actually done anything about it. You know, cause it's hard. And there's a football game on. And I need to preserve my energy for when I go out carousing later tonight.

But now my wife wants in on it (the running, not the carousing). And whether it's genuine interest in running on her part, or a concession she's making to get my ass off the couch, it is a good thing.

We are doing Chicago because it is almost exactly a year from now, we love the city, and there is a pretty good chance that I'll be in grad school somewhere in Illinois by next August. Also, the hot dogs. I suspect there will be at least one trip to the city of big shoulders to scout the route and...um...identify any possible race-day distractions.

So, only 11 and a half months left. I'm drinking my last coke as I write this. Expect a lot. Of something.

Things that don't make me feel better about me

2005-11-01T08:34:00.000-05:00

I love the Writer's Almanac. Who wouldn't like to sit down and listen to Garrison Keillor read a poem everyday?

Except today. Because today is the birthday of Stephen Crane. Stephen Crane who played baseball, and decided to become a sports writer. Who decided to write a book about a disgraced young woman and a book about a somewhat unwitting war hero, two things he never was, and managed to write them as well as anyone ever had. Who became a war correspondant and survived a shipwreck, which inspired him to write one of the best short stories in the English language.

And who, by the time he was my age, had written just about everything he ever would.

And all I got is this blog, damn it.

Something see, something do

2005-10-26T17:20:00.000-04:00

I have that feeling. You know, the one where you haven't slept quite as much as you should over the last few days, and you've been stressed and busy, so you've been tearing through packs of Camel Lights at about one every two to three hours; and even though you're not exactly tired like lay-down-and-go-to-sleep tired, you're still definitely tired because you feel like you're watching everything your body does from a little port-hole inside your own head?

I feel slightly monkeyed with. I think someone may have sabotaged my spellchecker because every other word I spell looks completely new. Not fresh and improved new. What the hell is this thing new. I want this thing to tell me "refer" is incorrect. It's actually "reefurr." Now that looks correct.

Insert segue here.

My best friend is now a father. His wife finally ended a torturous 18-hour labor last night by politely popping out a beautiful girl. I was there.

Her name is Amelia. The new one, that is. I played uno with her mother and walked a thousand and one laps around the maternity ward at four in the morning with her mother, waiting for her to get out here. She will likely keep her father from wandering about the city in a tipsy rage with me as often. I will not be permitted to smoke around her. She will be an expensive little proposition, as evidenced by the dozens and dozens of dollars I have personally spent on the bugger before she was even born.

I have every right in the world to be angry with this small person. But, of course, I am not. I am not even slightly ashamed to say that she might be the most amazing thing I have ever seen, and that I am totally in love with her. Gay, I know. Take heart - she will grow up to think as little of me as you do.

So, now I have to find something to do. I imagine it will involve sleeping. If not, I may go read some more of a couple of blogs I've been enjoying recently.

Still waiting

2005-10-19T15:24:00.000-04:00

So, yesterday, I finally found a heating and air company that offers financing for electric heat pump installations. Rather, they offer it on one line of their heat pumps. The cheap one, natch.

I was still pretty excited about it. Face it, I don't have many (read: any other at all) options, and I'll take what I can get.

They're sending out a guy to do an estimate. I think they have to price the whole thing before I can apply for the financing. They need to know up front if the doozle-swaffer* is going to need replacing as well.

So this guy...he's supposed to give me a call when he's on his way to my house. You know, this afternoon. It's 3:30 now. And what really sucks is that I can't call these people and be all horked off at them because I really need them to loan me the money to buy their thingamahickey.

Damn it.

*Thank you, Chris.

Space Philler

2005-10-19T15:14:00.000-04:00

George Saunders, the esteemed pencil-twitcher behind CivalWarLand in Bad Decline and Pastoralia has a new book, released about 6 weeks ago, called The Brief and Frightening Reign of Phil. Also, since the glossy printed world of literary magazines is zooming collectively toward the toilet, he's written an essay (nay, an exclusive essay) for Amazon. It's about his writing process in general, and this new book in particular.

What I hope for this book is simply that it entertains, using the old fashioned story-telling virtues: surprising form, charged language, humor, some truth there amid the wackiness. I hope this alternate world flares up in the reader's mind for a time, and thereafter reappears every now and then, like a vivid dream the reader once had, or, you know, a nightmare, of which he or she is oddly fond.

And if that doesn't interest you, you might want to schedule an appointment with your proctologist.

I used to think I felt stupid

2005-10-18T14:02:00.000-04:00

The house I bought last year has one of those split HVAC systems - gas furnace under the house and um...non-gas air conditioning thing outside. And they are both past warranty, and both programmed to die as soon as possible after their warranties expire. Awesome.

This summer, we bought a window AC unit for our bedroom. It was great. I was never at home except for sleeping anyway, and I kept that mutha cranked down at about 55° through July and August. And since the POS outside the house was about as efficient as the Hindenburg, my electric bill was cut in about half. Which was sweet.

But now it's getting cold, and the scary gas furnace under the house is refusing to work correctly. Aside from the freakiness inherent in having combustible fumes piped into my abode, it smells strange, and its efficiency makes the AC look like a Prius.

So I need a new system. I know nothing about these things. Computer? Sure, I can understand the specs. Digital camera? I'm good. Used cars? Not my strong suit, but I'm not an idiot. HVAC? How about I call someone? My local utility company wants to help me, they say. Financing. Something or other about low rates and no down payment. Blah-bliggity-blah-blah. Apparently I don't qualify because I have carried a balance on my account once in the last six months. You know, because I was tearing through a Rolls-Royce payment a month in utility bills and I might have had a little trouble keeping up that ONE TIME. ISN'T THIS WHY I NEED A FUCKING HEAT PUMP IN THE FIRST PLACE, YOU HEARTLESS BASTARDS?

So I start calling local contractors. Do you install heat pumps? Do you offer financing for residential installations? No, I am not joking.

It's not that I need that financing, of course. I just like the way $5000 looks sitting in my savings account, and I'd hate to disturb it. Look how cute it is (I think it's asleep...shhh).

How does anyone else pay for these things? Seriously. Is there some secret bank that finances the random shit that happens when you own a house? What the hell am I going to do if something else dies (water heater...I'm calling it now. You heard it here first)?

The Wizard of Westwood

2005-10-14T17:19:00.000-04:00

Happy Birthday, coach.

What I can't get out of my head right now.

2005-10-14T15:52:00.000-04:00

About a week ago, I was invited to a potluck at my friend Francisco's house. It was last night. I told him I couldn't be there by 7, the planned start time, but that I would show up around 8:30 or so. And I would have beer.

So, when I arrived, not only was there not a party going on, but Francisco wasn't even there. Gone to a movie. Salvadoran bastard.

Instead, there were two girls on his porch and one of his roommates inside the house, queuing up a playlist. I did not know any of them. Lo and behold, they were about to eat some supper they made for the three of them. And eat it on the porch, no less. Good light, cool breeze, warm candles, and a couple bottles of wine. And they told me and my beer to join them. What a lovely meal it was.

They are vegans, so I wasn't sure what to expect from the grub, but it was amazing - curried potatoes, sticky rice, Indian bread (sweet and savory: uh-mazing), peanut sauce, and a pear crisp.

That said, I'm totally craving bacon today. But, when am I not?

Little by little (for free)

2005-10-14T15:17:00.000-04:00

Harvey Danger is pretty good band from the northwest, and they have had their most recent album out for a month now. Also, they've made it freely available as mp3s. No strings, no catches. And this isn't some oversight or misjudgment on their part. They actually have a pretty lengthy explanation of why they're doing it:

...This is by no means a manifesto. We don'?t pretend to be the first band to spin a variation of the shareware distribution model. We love record labels and record stores. We buy lots of CDs and are committed to supporting independent music. We're not a bunch of fake Marxists. We'?re just trying to be smart capitalists so we can sustain our lives as musicians. This is an experiment. We'?ll let you know how it goes...

Not a Santa Claus complex. Just smart guys trying to get more people to listen to their music.

For it's a jolly good office suite

2005-10-14T09:39:00.000-04:00

OpenOffice, my life-saving bundle of free and open software is five years old today.

Look how cute it is. They just grow up so fast. (sniff)

Just a thing

2005-10-12T13:40:00.000-04:00

Sweet, knowing a scratch of German has finally paid off. Sort of. Apple's online store is down right now for "updates" (see also: new iPod hottness) and their hold screen is a list of phone numbers for their international sales offices. Each country is listed with an icon of their flag. Except that "Österreich" is German for Austria, not Australia, which is the flag next to it.

This would not have a prayer of being funny to anyone if was not for Dumb and Dumber.

Note to self

2005-10-12T12:24:00.000-04:00

While this bloggish thing may indicate otherwise, I aspire to being a writer. Writerdom, let's call it. You know, the gig where I earn a living from spouting opinions and making shit up. I intend to finish a graduate degree in writing somewhere, debatable as the value of said programs may be, and I want to do it soon. So, I wrote myself a note about it in May, just as an end-of-semester reminder to keep chugging along:

I should be able to submit at least one story and three poems every month. Getting into the MFA programs I want is not possible unless I do this. If I don’t get into one of my top choices, I won’t get enough financial aid. If I don’t get enough financial aid, I can’t go. If I don’t go anywhere, I’m stuck entering data, worrying about dressing professionally, and counting annual leave hours for the rest of my life.

Not submitting stories now = Life in Hell.

Stories and poems submitted since May = Zero. Yeah, I'm disappointing to me too.

Happy Birthday

2005-10-07T17:20:00.000-04:00

Hey, Palmer. Happy birthday, man. Since you won't see this because you're driving today, and since it's technically your birthday now, I guess it's ok if you know that I got you another booster deck for what is possibly the most childishly addictive game I have ever played.

Can't wait to see you.

Forgot to get Palmer something for his birthday? It's ok. All he ever wanted was for you to look at the pictures.

If you can't say nuthin nice

2005-10-07T17:12:00.000-04:00

The Metro Pulse, not well known for equivocation, lays down just exactly what they think of Stacey Campfield in an editorial this week. Includes suck gems as:

Campfield might find it much easier to earn a place on the Idiot Caucus. His credentials would not be questioned.

Thanks, Metro Pulse. Nice burn. Good to know that Campfield is officially a dookie-head now.

Feelin' Groovy

2005-10-04T15:00:00.000-04:00

I went out to dinner with some friends for my friend Julie's birthday on Saturday night. Her birthday (pronounced: BERFDAY!) was actually Wednesday, but that doesn't matter. The thing you need to understand is that birthday, for Julie, is a season. Like Spring, only longer. With more drinking. We get along well.

We went to Pasta Trio, which might be the best place to eat in Knoxville. Possibly. I'm not committing here.

Anyway, after a long and expensive dinner (someone else paid - w00t!) we headed from there to the Corner Lounge, which is classy as hell, in case you didn't know. They have Miller Light AND High Life. Which is like...50% of the beer in the whole world. They should advertise that more, I think.

There was music. The band was The Nairobi Trio, who were pretty good, actually, though I'm pretty sure I could whip them in an arm wrestling match. Which I may or amy not have challenged them to. Things got fuzzy.

One thing I remember distinctly is that the lead singer started the second set with some acoustic stuff. You know, sitting-on-a-stool-at-the-front-of-the-stage kind of stuff. He played Simon and Garfunkel. I became...how to say this...aroused.

You should know this. When I was in college (version 1.0 - the JBC years), I had S&G's greatest hits CD. I played the hell out of it. It's the first CD I ever bought. I knew (and still pretty much do) every damn note, beat, break, and lyric on the whole album. I used to listen to it in a car with my friend Homer, who also had the album, only on tape. His tape player was a POS, so as we listened, the speakers would cut out for a minute or two, and then come back on - the tape having never stopped playing. Once, the speakers quit working for a full song and a half, and when we hit a bump and they came back on, we were on key and at exactly the right lyric. If I had a superpower, it would have something to do with remembering the words to the songs on this album.

So when Roger from The Nairobi Trio began singing "America," I had no choice but to sing it as well. Only louder. Because my other superpower, if I had two, would be incredible drunken volume.

I was moved. I shed a tear. I demanded more. I think people left because of me. Try not to be jealous.

Karma

2005-10-04T12:00:00.000-04:00

My wife and I have been tighty-budgety for a few months now. She's in school full-time and only working part-time, which leaves me as the primary earner (though just barely). While this is totally sweet for my ego (I'm an old school chauvinist), it sort of sucks for the acquisition of stuff and the general enjoyment of subscription-based services - my two greatest hobbies, not to mention skills. To that end, we *sacrificed* and went down to the networks-plus-a-handful cable package.

But things are different now. No, we don't have more money, but the MLB playoffs begin today, and much of the AL & NLDS coverage is on ESPN, plus there's all that Baseball Tonight worthlessness that I'm so addicted to I get the shakes whenever I hear Harold Reynolds' voice. It's true.

So, knowing it's wrong because I have better things to do with my money, and because I'm basically using it as a 30-day pay-per-view, I called the cable company today to have my subscription bumped up. 55 more channels, 35 more dollars.

And when this is through, I discover that the baseball I crave will be broadcast on Fox by the time Comcast gets to my house.

Oh well, there's always HGTV. And Lifetime.

Ok, someone shoot me in the face.

flickry

2005-10-04T09:09:00.000-04:00

Sweet. I have recent photos from my flickr contacts as a news module on my.yahoo.com. And now I can set it as a slideshow gallery that displays in the narrow column on the right.

If this is cool to you, punch yourself for being lamely similar to me.

Holy sweet yes

2005-09-29T10:07:00.000-04:00

Now, I know that many of you out there are part-time ninjas. Also, most of you have cell phones. Finally, there is a step-by-step guide for bringing these two traits together into one, deadly, mobile art form. Behold, Nokia Ninjitsu.

Dasha Shishkin

2005-09-29T09:25:00.000-04:00

Isn't Dasha Shishkin great?

It's like the Athens of Georgia

2005-09-26T17:28:00.000-04:00

So, we went to Athens to see a concert this weekend. Can't say enough good things about the show, the town, and the folks we stood behind in line. They were also "Bible College" expats with some level of disillusion/nostalgia about like mine. Perhaps Sufjan draws these sort of crowds. Not unlikely.

We also made our first foray into an actual IKEA store this weekend. Good lord, the crushing onslaught of reasonably-priced furniture and knick-knackery of a Swedish lilt was almost more than I could bear. Almost. Under normal circumstances, it might have been, but I had recently had my spirits buoyed by the ever-encouraging Mr. Stevens. Sufjan + IKEA = emotional stasis. Peace at last.

Excuse me while I'll curl up with my new SNÖ quilt and revel in the soothing sounds of "Come On, Feel the Illinoise."

Podcasts that should exist

2005-09-24T01:35:00.000-04:00

The Writer's Almanac.
This I believe.
A standalone feed for Slate's Poem of the week.

Soof-Yawn

2005-09-23T13:29:00.000-04:00

By this time tomorrow, I will be on my way to the Kudzu-covered hills of Athens to take in the glory of Mr. Stevens. Caloo-Calay.

Library Thinging

2005-09-21T15:44:00.000-04:00

I would say that Library Thing is great, fantastic, and a total time-saver for a listophile like myself. But really, it's probably just another good, not great, distraction.

That said, I totally have a crush on it. And if you do too, LT user Malaprop (related to the übergood bookstore in Asheville?) has some great tags for sorting through your virtual tomes.

Party in the library!

Damn the Canadians

2005-09-20T14:35:00.000-04:00

Ashby's great ideas that are never acted upon. Episode no. 473: stolen by Canadians.

This is consistent with their demonstrated pattern of ripping me off.

Rated PG: for tips

2005-09-19T21:04:00.000-04:00

Ever since I had a mild cardiac...um...thing earlier this summer, I've been trying to lay off the caffeine more. Working full time and going to school nearly full time are not activities that lend themselves to quitting the perky stuff. However, and this surprises some people, I do recognize the importance of being, you know, ambulatory to enjoy the benefits of kicking my own ass through college.

I love coffee. I love coffee like I love beer and BBQ - even when it's bad, it's still pretty damn good. Coffee is hard to let go of. I am having a little success, however. At the height of my oh-my-god-I-want-to-be-sophisticated Anglophilia (that never quite faded), I used to drink a lot of tea. I've gone back, trying to replace the act of the coffee drinking with something significantly less deadly to my delicate little ticker.

About a year ago, I had my first cup of PG Tips. At the time, I probably though it was ok, but quickly dumped it in a nearby drain because it was hogging all that space where I could be keeping some coffee. I recently picked up a box of it, as well as a tin of looseleaf and an infuser. And you know, it's totally awesome. I had a cup this morning with a little honey and some milk. While it didn't go tearing through me quite as nicely as a torrid Sumatran would, it still had sufficient buzz and a nice complexity of flavor that you really can't get very easily with coffee.

And besides, what's not to love about something one can order by the tin? Also, I'm already into their idea of moderation. The back of the PG Tips box refers to "6 Cups/day" as less than excessive consumption. You know, like beer.

Craig Ferguson is trying to kill us all

2005-09-15T14:07:00.000-04:00

I'm a Conan guy. Probably always will be. Every now and then, however, my TV wanders over to CBS and I catch a little bit of Craig Ferguson, who would be only mildly amusing if not for the rad Scottish accent (as opposed to the accent I have when watching late night TV: Scotch).

I heard a little bit of his theme music the other night. Sure, it's chipper and a bit drinking-song sounding, and it's full of life's little truths by which I try to live ("You can always sleep through work tomorrow"). But the part that caught me off guard was "Tomorrow's just a future yesterday." That's how the song ends, and it holds on to that last syllable of "yesterdaaaaaaay" just long enough for my booze-hazed mind to spin into a wild abyss of existential crisis. Because, you know, that's true, and it's kind of depressing.

And I might be able to get over it pretty quickly under normal circumstances, but this is non-Conan late night TV I'm watching, so by the time Arianna Huffington comes on as the second guest, I'm out of single malt, and I'm wondering how quickly I could end it all by smashing the empty bottle on the coffee table and jamming the remnants into my eyes.

Luckily for me, I'm even lazier when I'm drunk, so I never get around to trying. But someone who is even a marginal go-getter could be in serious danger if he watches the show. I'm just saying, you know...shower the people you love with love...and don't let them watch CBS after Letterman, whatever you do.

Pocketmod: has my gadget fetish come full circle?

2005-09-15T13:44:00.000-04:00

Hmm. Also hmm.

I showed this to a friend of mine at work. Her response was something along the lines of, "So what you're telling me is that you're so caught up in technology that when someone shows you something as simple as lined paper via the internet, you immediately get hot and bothered?"

Why had this never really occurred to me before? She has a degree in psychology. That must explain the insight.

Regardless, I think it's cool. If for no other reason than because I have a boring job, a laser printer, and a fat internet connection just begging me to find something entertaining to do.

Pedro The Lion/Headphones benefit auction

2005-09-07T16:39:00.000-04:00

You've got until September 14 (next Wednesday) to bid on an amazing auction on ebay. it's already out of my price range, but if you love PTL and you have some cash (all that excess financial aid, perhaps) then you should give it a look.

Milk on my monitor

2005-09-06T14:41:00.000-04:00

The cover story for the new issue of Wired is their interview with Jon Stewart and fellow Daily Show maker, Ben Karlin. I nearly lost it at Stewart's response to the final question of the interview.

Your contract goes through 2008. How do you think people will be watching the show then?
Stewart: Through their nipples. I believe the show will come in through one nipple and will be broadcast out the other through some sort of projection device.

Bikey GPS

2005-09-01T17:57:00.000-04:00

I've been jonesing for a GPS thingamawhat for my bike ever since I started riding more seriously. And this new one from Garmin, which is made for bikers just like me, is totally rad.

Being the antiadventurist commuter type, I don't really need it, I suppose, but since there is so much other crap in my life I don't really need (sliced cheese, tablecloths, and, technically, pants), I might as well have some cool toys as well.

However, if a gizmo is so expensive that it would exclude the possibility of getting a second bike, then said gizmo will probably stay on the wish list a little longer, bumping other, less expensive luxuries (soap, health insurance, etc) to the top once more.

Sprint con Nextel

2005-09-01T11:10:00.000-04:00

So the SprintPCS and Nextel merger thing is in full swing now. I've been a Sprint customer for almost four years now and, while I've been irritated with them sometimes, it's basically been pretty good. I was sort of excited when they announced the merger, hopeful I could get my paws on one of Nextel's near-bulletproof phones or at least a Blackberry.

Also, I was chomping at the bit for September 1 to roll around because I would then be eligible for my $150 "new for you" rebate. It was for enduring my sad little phone with dinged-up case and mismatched battery for 18 months. But now I find out the rules have changed. New deal: I can get a $75 rebate after 12 months or $150 after 24. This means...nothing, really. It's just disappointing. I wish I could get really worked up over it and demand my promised rebate. But I won't.

Geesh, I'm lame today.

Gas Pains

2005-08-31T16:31:00.000-04:00

Not that it begins to compare with the many actual crises being faced down in NOLA, but my wife just informed that gas has reached $3.29 a gallon in Sevierville. I'm sure there is a bit of tourist-driven gouging going on up there, but it sounds like it could be like that everywhere.

My boss was amazed that he paid $2.79 for gas this morning. I hope that doesn't sound amazingly cheap in a week.

Paralysis

2005-08-31T08:16:00.000-04:00

I am controlled by WWL TV's website today. They have a live feed of their broadcast on the site. I think they're broadcasting from Baton Rouge now. It's insane. I can't believe this is real.

Have a beer for America.

2005-08-30T14:41:00.000-04:00

You do love America, don't you? My great pal Infozo has directed me to some important information regarding the importance of beer to our country and our great state.

It occurs to me that I am a much better citizen than I had previously realized.

Not an amateur noia

2005-08-30T08:49:00.000-04:00

Merlin Mann has an interesting post on the idea of Pronoia, the sneaking suspicion that the whole world is conspiring to shower you with blessings.

Czech it.

Musty Burger

2005-08-29T14:09:00.000-04:00

What did I hear on TV yesterday? I was watching the Little league World Series, which is an awesome thing to watch, by the way. There was a foul tip. A pop up. It was gliding midway down the first base line. The catcher and first baseman both went for it. Ball caught. Collision. Disaster narrowly averted.

How did Brent Musburger (that's a great name in 2nd grade) respond? He said something like, "He [the first baseman] is lucky he didn't whack his catcher right in the puss."

Awesome. I know I'm like 12 for thinking it funny, but face it; everyone cringed when they heard that.

Graduate Workshop: The drinkening

2005-08-25T09:52:00.000-04:00

I spent yesterday evening in my first graduate fiction-writing workshop. I was prepared for überseriousness and getting right down to it. Which we did, I guess, but not in the way I expected. It was totally normal - just like the undergrad workshops I took. Only with more grown-ups.

I'm not sure why I was expecting something different. I've been part of the Professional Association of English Majors long enough to know that all the stereotypes of pretentious, high-falutin', tweed-wearing professor wannabes are actually perpetuated because we need to keep jobs. The grammar fascism and obsessive deconstructionismm is just a smokescreen we put up with the hope that no one will notice we just read stories and poems for a living.

One major difference between the undergrad and grad workshops: last night we went out for drinks after class. What a racket. I'm never leaving.

Here I am

2005-08-24T14:57:00.000-04:00

Nearly a week already? I've been very busy. We began the process of putting in a patio in our side yard over the weekend (hope to post some pics soon), and school is now back in session at UT.

Also, when is going to cool down around here?

NYC 2123

2005-08-18T10:25:00.000-04:00

I just read the first installment of this PSP-lovin graphic novel. It's an interesting read and it's beautiful. Kind of a Frank Miller meets William Gibson thing.

I'd like to get it ported to a Palm-friendly format.

10 MPH

2005-08-17T09:26:00.000-04:00

I just caught the trailer for this new documentary. It looks really interesting. I wonder if there is a chance it will hit a theater within earshot of Knoxville.

Go check it out.

On Sheehan

2005-08-16T11:34:00.000-04:00

I feel bad for her, but I think she's kind of started being an ass about it. It's gone beyond being a reasonable reaction, and now it is full-on attention whoring. Christopher Hitchens makes the argument against Sheehan's demands in Slate:

Any citizen has the right to petition the president for redress of grievance, or for that matter to insult him to his face. But the potential number of such people is very large, and you don't have the right to cut in line by having so much free time that you can set up camp near his drive.

Well said.

Nike MaxSight

2005-08-16T08:24:00.000-04:00

Nike has developed sunglass-replacing contact lenses, and up until yesterday they were available only to Nike-endorsing pro athletes (click 'athletes'...damn you, flash). But now you can get them at your local optometrist. w00t.

I think these are pretty cool, especially for sun-wusses like me, but Nike needs some help with their branding. How about Nike iBalls instead?

Hehe...balls.

Brian Roberts is having an insane year, and he apparently credits MaxSight for part of that. But if, as Darren Rovell reports, Nike has "jumped on the Roberts bandwagon," shouldn't there be fewer recent pictures of Roberts wearing actual sunglasses during day games?

They're not calves, they're cows

2005-08-15T16:01:00.000-04:00

My wife was out of town this weekend, so I had no one to tell me when to go to bed, when to stop drinking, what not to where, or what time to get up. In short, there was no one around to keep me from being the idiot I am when left to my wits.

It was so much fun.

My legs hurt, though. Why? Because I saw a Talking Heads tribute show on Saturday night, and I danced until last call in my flip-flops. I sweated like none other, and I looked like a total jackass. But seriously, it was so much fun.