Tick-a-click-click, boo yah!

I love me them Cheat Commandos.

It's been awfuly quiet around the house the last few days. I finally got my cable disconnected, nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah. Of course, I didn't actually get cut off the day I was cancelled, so I had some time left. The cable guy came on Thursday and grabbed my receiver box, effectively ending my run with Charter. Of course, I might still be getting a feed, but I have no way of knowing.

So it's quiet with no TV going. It's kinda weird, but not that bad. I can still watch movies and such, so I'm not totally cut off from visual stimulation. But I've had cable since about as long as I can remember, so it's odd not having it. Not paying $60 a month makes up for it, though. I just need to call someone to set me up with a dish. Ideally, in time for playoffs (i.e., next week).

Too many bathrooms? Why, you can never have too many bathrooms!

It's true, you know. I have two now, although one is of the "some assembly required" persuasion. But the boxes look nice!

My bedroom is a bathroom. Even my ballroom is a bathroom!

I've told a few people this over the years, but I'm going to tell everyone reading this: I don't get art. Not at all. Photography, fine. I can do that. Even abstract stuff, because it seems (to me anyways) grounded in something. I mean, it might be weird, but there's a tangible object in the picture. It might be shot in a weird way, or have some tricked-out technique applied to it (darkroom or Photoshop), but it's still something I can grasp (see Man Ray or Jerry Uelsmann). But abstract art and I are like...cats and turtles. Natural enemies, and definitely not suitable for marriage. Anyone see that piece at the SLAM that was just broken glass on the floor? What about the deal on the wall that was nothing more than some string wrapped around some pegs? What gives? Am I missing something?

I'm not saying any of it is bad, I just don't get anything out of it. It's just...there. If any of you arty types want to set me straight, please feel free to do so.

Speaking of meanings and such, I'm gonna leave you with some fun lyrics you can run through your head, courtesy of one Paul Hewson.

Lights go down
It's dark, the jungle is
Your head can't rule your heart
A feeling so much stronger
Than a thought
Your eyes are wide
And though your soul
It can't be bought
Your mind can wander



Dave

Bombs away!

Unos, dos, tres, catorce...

Oh wow.

Wow.

Damn.

Please go here, download, and enjoy.

Life is good.



It's everything I wish I didn't know,
Dave

Knee Deep in the Dead

Every once in awhile, I happen across an interview with someone talking about a sports play that maybe took all of a few seconds but to them seemed like an eternity.

I can finally attest to that: they ain't foolin'.

I found myself in front of the net tonight in soccer with nothing between the goalie and I except for the ball and about 10 feet of empty space. In the two(ish) seconds it took me to cover the ground, endless possibilities ran through my mind, trying to figure out the best approach.

Shoot right off? No, not a good angle.

Work to the left? Okay.

Now what? Keep going.

Turn and shoot? Too late! You went too far, dummy!

Quick! Turn and shoot! Crap! Ball got away...

And about 8,000 calculations in between each move.

I didn't score. Grr.


Things you never want to hear: "yeah, we're going to have to numb you up and drill a little bit." This, of course, is from my dentist, said in the most non-chalant manner possible.

Hooray-a-for me. Nothing better than an 8:00 a.m. appointment with a dentist's drill. Shoot, I'd rather deal with an insurance company.

I don't scare too easily. I get creeped out every so often, but being really scared is a foreign idea to me. Thankfully, I'm in the process of crossing that item off my list of...um, things. Yes. I have a list. So piss off.

Anyways. I bought Doom III on Sunday, and after some minor tweaking to the PC (i.e. new video card {thanks,Dave}), I now have one of the creepiest games ever installed and running smoothly. And it is damn scary stuff. Lighting and sound work together with some truly wonderful visuals for some genuinely good scares.

And that's just in the first couple levels.

I really could go on about other scintillating details about my week, but I can't say I really feel like it. Sew, I think I'ma gonna end this, grab a bite, and maybe get a little scared before bedtime.


Open wide,
Dave

Arrrrrrrrrrr....

I'll meet you up on the poop deck, you big....poop.

And then he let out a scream that be heard in Davey Jones' locker. And Mickey Dolenz's locker. And Peter Tork's. All the Monkees had lockers.

Arr, matey's.

And then I saw before me a fleet o' ships manned by the scurviest sea dogs this side of the Pacific. I had me left hand on the wheel, me right hand manning the sail, me left foot working the bilge pump, and mine eyes were stirring the galley stew.


Arr, it be National Talk Like a Pirate Day.






I also feel it worth mentioning that there's a hot new fragrance for men: Hummer. Yes, the fine people who bring Rhode Island on wheels now have a new scent, "masculine with rugged and adventerous attributes."

Hot.

I'm assuming it smells like a cross between sweat, leather, and diesel. That's pretty manly, eh? Personally, I'm not too excited over it, although the potential for other fragrances is pretty high. Couldn't you imagine the fervor if Toyota were to release a scent based on the Corolla? Or maybe a fragrance based on used cars: "rusty with old and smoky attributes."

Sign me up.


Arrrgh!
Dave

Oh, what a lucky man he was.

I was sitting at my desk at work today, as I tend to do everyday, when one of the fun folk from circulation came down to grab some paper for a display he was working on. I offered to help, and he said he didn't want to interrupt anything. I told him he wasn't, as I was on break anyways. He was like "are you sure?" I told him yeah, I was just sitting around building calluses on my butt so I could go around being a hard ass.



.



Saw the monster trucks on Saturday night. It is, taken at face value, and incredibly stupid thing. I mean, guys in 10-12 foot tall trucks jumping over cars is pretty high on the list of stupid guy things, but it's a fun kind of stupid. It was, thankfully, not as goofy as I was thinking it might have been. There were also a lot of local boys with modified trucks racing each other Chicago-style (thick crusts were mercifully left out). Beyond the monsters, the real highlights were the other local boys who took they're somewhat spruced up trucks (read: jalopies) and ran the course. Most of them were, well, not suited to the course, and took quite a beating. One guy split his front axle, and lost a side window. The truck looked as though it was slapped together just to run the course and get trashed, so it's not like he lost anything. And he was having such fun with it, it was hard not to get into it with him. He was truly excited to have his truck trashed. And, to be honest, I think all of us were excited for him. Even mum and Janice had fun (I can't speak for Mike), so it was time well-spent.

One of the perks of getting older, I guess, is the opportunity to wear some really interesting items. We went down to the Loop yesternight for a birthday dinner and a bit of pre-food shopping. Of course, we had to stop by Rag-O-Rama, wear I found some truly unique pants. Nice brown plaid. Hot, or so I was told. Only $7. I was...hesitant, but finally caved under pier pressure. Even found a shirt to match. In all honesty, I kinda like them, but finding the right time to wear 'em will prove difficult.

And they need to be hemmed. Any takers?

One downside of getting older is the somewhat ho-hummness of birthdays. Back in the day, there were parties, lotsa presents, and general mirth all around. Nowadays it's pretty laid back. Get some cards in the mail, maybe the odd gift or two, but it's mostly checks. I think I sorta miss those days. This it not to take anything away from this weekend. I had a fantastic time at mum's hanging out, eating, trucking, and star gazing. Dinner last night was loads of fun. My cufflinks are the hottest accessory this side of Tony Womack. There were a few other little things that I truly enjoyed. Immensely, even.

So it's not worse. Just different.

Ooey. Gooey.

I haven't eaten in awhile. I was going to eat and then post, but got confused. Or distracted.

I have to visit the dentist tomorrow. Of all things in life, having my teeth scraped with an iron hook is one of my least favorite activites. Inhumanly perky dental hygenists are equally scary.

I played basketball with Tom and Co. on Saturday afternoon and remembered why I stopped playing in grade school: I'm really, really not good. Dare I say bad. Ick. But, it was fun, and in the end, 'tis what mattered most. I did bowl well. And I soccered well, as I posted last time. Two sports is enough to be good at. Three would be silly. I mean, who do I think I am, Leon?

I could use a bottle of the 'L Factor.'

Keep an eye on the Archives in Cowtown. I worked up a spiffy banner for the site, and I think it looks really nice, as does the webmaster. We're still tweaking it, so it may not be up for another couple days. But peruse the site, as it's chock full of cool 'Tones' tidbits.

I'm slowly getting back into re-redoing my webpage. I'm going to keep it simple and try my best to update it when I have some new stuff. Third time's a charm, yes?

I'm looking forward to- gasp! -buying a new computer game and video card. I remember waaaaaaaaay back when, when we got the shareware version of Doom for our first computer. It was slow and soundless, but oh my was it fun. It was a real game for the computer. Now it's come full circle: I'm gonna go buy Doom III, and it looks like it'll provide the same experience as the original: lots of fun.


If you give a Dave a cookie, he's going to want a glass of milk to go with it.

Thanks.


Spruce moose on the loose!
Dave

C C B-flat E-flat F-sheerrrp

That's the new song from Joe Satriani, folks. You heard it here first.

Two thoughts I want to pass along, mostly so I don't forget about them later.


a.) I've often wondered, watching hockey, if the goalies get bored when their team is
dominating offensively. What are they thinking about when they stand there watching
their team on the other end of the ice? Well, playing goalie at soccer has given me
some insight on that matter. Our team has stretches of offensive domination, giving
me a chance to stand around. Turns out we don't think about much of anything. It's
hard to really get a good bead on the action from the far end, so it's hard to get
into the game. And I can't recall any concrete thoughts from the course of the
game. So....goalies stand around and just zone out, apparently.

b.) When people drive around blasting music from their cars, why is it almost always
rap? No offense to those who enjoy it (although I don't), but why don't people ever
drive around blasting country? Jazz? Yanni? I try to remedy the situation by
blasting my stereo, but it's hard to get the nuances of a 'Tones song if you aren't
able to give it your full attention. And it's not all that uber-bassy, either. Not
in the same way rap is, at least. Maybe the...musical make-up of rap lends itself
to blasting.

c.) I'm going to see monster trucks tomorrow. I remember the last time I saw them, and
it involves a wonderfully amusing story. But, I'm not going to tell you about that.
I don't feel like it today. I will reminisce a bit. I used to watch monster trucks
and/or tractor pulls every Saturday morning (the RedMan/TNT All-American Pulling
Series). Great times, and one of the highlights of my week. Unless they showed
fishing instead. Not so good. But I'd always tape the trucks, and we had two full
VHS tapes at one point, and they were always good for something to watch. I could
go on, and rant about the state of the sport, but I'll refrain for now. We'll see
if the show tomorrow can live up to how I remember it when I was 7.



Sunday, Sunday, Someday.



let's do this like Brutus,
Dave

The spotted cuckoo bird is flying backwards.

Apparently I can only post once a week.

No one told me about the new rule, so I apologize to the masses for my slackitude.

I made cooked food for Janice and Jess last night, and thankfully, no one needed an antacid afterwards. Not I usually need one when I cook for myself, but you never know, and it's always a plus when no one complains.

The fact that I cooked isn't interesting in and of itself, but a small story behind the cooking merits some attention. I decided to make a cheesecake for dessert, and forgot mum took the cookbook with the good recipe with her when she moved. The one in my cookbook was a tad complex, so I decided to check online for a simpler recipe. I moseyed over to foodtv.com, and checked out the Good Eats section, as I tend to enjoy the show and its somewhat offbeat host, Alton Brown. I knew he'd done a cheesecake episode, so I clicked around and found the recipe. The ingredients included (and I'm not making this up):

24 ounces cream cheese
3 tablespoons cornstarch
1 teaspoon salt
4 ounces sour cream
2 large eggs
6 ounces smoked trout, diced
1/3 cup chopped chives

Hey! This isn't cheesecake!!!

Yeah. I didn't add any fish. Or chives. Maybe next time.

We also watched the Blue Collar Comedy Tour last night. I'd not seen it or any of its performers before, and I can happily say it was pretty amusing. Jeff Foxworthy and Bill Engvall are quite funny, and thankfully don't rely entirely on their schticks for laughs (they pulled them out for the 'encore'). Larry the Cable Guy would have been funnier if I could understand him without captions. I do give him credit for his last joke, involving NASCAR and, um, feminine care products: "How'd you get tickets to the Tampon 200? I pulled some strings, man."

It's either extremely funny or horribly tasteless. I'm not sure, so I'll leave it to you to decide.


A Digression
While I'm thinking of it, I'm proud to announce some new scales to go along with the Womack Scale of Hotness.

-the Jim Edmonds Scale of Unshavedness
-the Scott Rolen Scale of Squintiness

If you've been following the Cardinals at all this year, those will make perfect sense.

End Digression

After the BCCT, we watched an episode of Monty Python's Flying Circus, which is still funny some 30 years or so after it first aired.

I also thought a little bit about the differences between American and British comedy. American comedy seems to trade on the observational type, i.e. the oddities and absurdities of everyday life, parenting, working, etc. British comedy seems a lot more...intellectual, I guess, dealing with a lot of wordplay and such-not. There's certainly more to it than that, but I can't put a finger on it, and my mind is in no condition to expound upon the topic. I'll leave it to y'all.

Oh bloody hell...

In just under a week, I'll be 23 (XXIII for you Roman readers). Kinda dull, really. I don't get any new priv-a-leges, which sucks. I'm still 12 years shy of being able to run for president, and almost 30 years of getting my AARP card. I'm not in any rush, mind you, but after 16, 18, and 21, there isn't much in the way of birthday milestones for awhile.

Speaking of Rush, Neil Peart's birthday is the same day as mine. I should send him a card.

I stood in the sun too long on Saturday (7 hours, 7 soccer games, 1 sunburned neck). Even the fun of watching first graders play soccer wore off after awhile. Still, those little guys were scrappy as can be, so the games were far from dull. Surprisingly, the goalies were quite sharp, despite the fact their jerseys would often hang around their knees. Granted, they weren't facing too many difficult shots, but for their level, I was impressed. I liked watching the coaches run around on the field with their team shouting orders.

And, I swear to God, I saw 3 or 4 quails walking around in a field near the park. Are there any other native birds with belts on their heads?

Think about it, won't you?

Anyways, I gotta go. My mom's making rich chocolate Ovaltine!!!

Dave