Yee-Haw and So Forth

I saw this recently on my way out of town for a visit with the in-laws.
Sorry the pic is so crummy, but I had to snap it quick. In case you can't read the printing, the first line says “Pull the Choke Let 'em Smoke”. The second line says “Powerline Kennels”. It appears to be a picture of a dog chasing a fox.

My wife and I are stumped. It sure sounds exciting, though, whatever the hell is going on.

A Whole Messa Stuff

I haven't written in a while. That makes me sad.

It seems like I have time for everything lately except writing. Maybe I need to hire an intern to act as my minstrel that follows me around for a while recording my adventures...

SnowUrchin, he did bravely craft

Documents that will never see

The rise of the sun nor the rise of the moon

Stored forever electronically.

Midway through his mighty task,

Some Cheetos he did obtain.

Then he stared out the window for 17 minutes

And wondered if it would rain...

No. Forget it. The minstrel idea would suck for everyone involved.

Here's the Cliff's Notes version of what has been going on:

Completed a prototype of a new website for the church. My new cut at it brings it up from the early-1990s feel it currently has to something that might have been cutting edge five years ago. I am glad to do the work, but I am a little shocked by how bizarre church folks can be about prioritizing church stuff (spending 20+ hours a week making flower baskets or chili cookoff flyers, say) over other stuff (making sure their 17-year-old doesn't get another DUI, say) – a point of view I hope to never, ever understand. Anyway, it's done. Just waiting on some art to gussy it up some before it goes live.

Read Kingpin: How One Hacker Took Over the Billion-Dollar Cybercrime Underground by Kevin Poulsen. Normally, I would never consider reading anything with a title like this but I ran into an interesting excerpt on Wired.com and I thought I would give it a go. Exciting, awesome, nine thumbs up, etc, etc. Extremely well researched and surprisingly balanced – there is no hero, there is no villain. As a matter of fact, I had never categorized “hacker” as an occupation until reading this. It's not enough to make me want to take up a life of crime... but almost... :)

Fixed my washing machine. Lately the washer was displaying certain codes that indicated that the unit was not draining properly. It would stop in the middle of a cycle or force itself to run a second rinse cycle because it thought there was residual soap in the drain water. Here is a list of things that did not work:

1) Ignoring the problem.
2) Re-booting the washer by unplugging it an plugging it back in after 30 minutes.
3) Running cleaning cycle upon cleaning cycle.
4) Slightly rearranging the drain hose.
5) Prayer.

What I was not prepared to do is to throw up my hands in helplessness and have a Sears representative come out and do some silly adjustment, forcing me to take off four hours from work then pay him $249.58 to watch him turn a screwdriver one-quarter of one turn. My wife deserves better than that, anyway.

What fixed it was a visit to Fixya.com. I ran across an article describing how to check the pump filter on this model of washer and followed the steps. Three 7-millimeter screws later I was draining the residual water out of the washer into some awaiting towels. The pic you see is the disgusting mung that was trapped in the filter after a nylon bootie got sucked into there somehow. After cleaning everything out and putting everything back, the washer works just fine.

A huge “thank you” to richroth, the writer of the guide that helped me (and hundreds of others, it looks like) through this problem. You rock!

Replaced my wireless router. The thing would sometimes be ok for a long time, then sometimes kick us off every ten to fifteen minutes or so. Besides, it was three years old, low quality to begin with, and the signal strength was crummy in the living room. After replacing it we have had no issues. I thought the problem was due to some arcane ISP or signal-strength issue but my brother-in-law correctly diagnosed that the old router was the tall tent pole, here. Thanks, dude! It took less than an hour and all of our wireless geegaws and gizmos are much happier now. Even the wired stuff seems to be a bit faster.

Broke my record yesterday for treadmill walk/run: 31:49 for 5 kilometers. This is 51 seconds off my last best time. I am still only running it in chunks of 10 minutes or so then walking, then running again, though. Frankly, it is getting really boring. Maybe bumping up the speed a bit or the outside morning running thing will help.

More to come.

Run, Run Away

Been very busy lately and working through a lot of lunches (when I usually crank these articles out) but I've got a little time right now so let's chat.

As I mentioned in my 2011 New Year's Resolution post I have been working myself up to running 5k's.  All inside running so far but I am ready to graduate to running outdoors, I think.

My run/walk 5k record for the treadmill is 32:40 [Editors Note: as of yesterday, my record is now 31:49], and my longest run without a walk break is 19 minutes.  I was surprised about the second one since I did that after 6 days off for being sick (some sort of respiratory thing).

My target before my first race is to be able to either a) finish without a walk break or b) finish under 30 minutes.  I added the first one after checking out forums and finding out to my dismay that 30 minutes is, apparently, only slightly faster than just standing there and letting Continental Drift do all the work.

The people who bothered to answer the question "What is a good time for someone's first 5k?" must be Olympic-level athletes, Olympic-level liars, or part velociraptor.  One guy even answered 12:45, which is an average of 14.6 miles an hour and only 8 seconds off the world record for 5000 meters.  Clearly he has a way different definition of what "good" means than I do... although it is possible he has different perceptions of time and distance than I do as well...  Maybe he lives the Matrix. I don't know.

I bought some wrist reflectors yesterday to reduce my chances of being unintentionally hit by a car during my near-future pre-dawn (5:15 AM or so) runs.  I chose the neon yellow ones instead of the pink ones because they were more manly.

Yes.  That was my reason. 

It wasn't until my wife and I walked out of the store and she started in with the Wonder Woman jokes that I realized I chose poorly.  I think she pictures me spinning around and around in the driveway then dashing off, resplendent in my star-spangled underwear and red-and-gold halter top, only to fall into the ditch at the end of the driveway where I lay until someone notices me there around 6:30 or so.

In my defense the only other semi-reasonable non-clothing option was a small LED thing that you clip on your shirt or wherever it won't chafe too badly.  Actually, I own one already.  I bought it a couple of years ago when I decided I was going to take up running but I never used it.  That's not true.  I used it twice, both times to light up the inside of a Jack-o-lantern on two Halloweens.  It worked great.

Laziness aside, the reason I never used it is that it works too well.  This red blinky thing is super-bright.  If I actually used it to jog with people would call 911 with complaints that it looks like either a large aircraft is slowly taxiing down the road or a that a super-quiet rave has broken out in the cul-de-sac out front.

Besides, it smells like pumpkins...

I am not going to make the St. Patrick's Day 5k but the next one coming up in April should be doable. My sister said she might come down to run it with me – that'd be cool.

Eighties Movie Haikus

[Editor's Note:  I am in the process of re-printing some of my old posts from other blogs years ago.  Not only does this help put them all in one place, it really calls to my inner lazy-guy. This one was written in 2007, and has been updated a bit to fix the dates.]

I collect PG-Rated movies from the 1980’s. Not because they were great… or good, even. Actually, the advent of newer and cheaper computer-based filmmaking technologies in that decade opened up all the stops on what was to be, and what will always be remembered as, a ten-year schlock-fest. The high cost of materials, editing, etc. went away, and more and more theaters were built. This really helped to take a hacksaw to the throttle valve of artistry and common sense. Anything could make money. And I am not talking about blockbusters like E.T. (I have no interest in those). I am talking real pieces of steaming garbage.

So why do I collect them?

Well, it has been 25 years since I have seen a lot of the ones I am about to mention, and, man, what can I say? I don’t think that my life was so horrible, so wretched, so deprived of entertainment of any kind that I would subject myself to these abominations time and time again, but I seem to remember watchingsome of these things about a million times on HBO. I don’t know…

I certainly don’t watch them for “kitsch” value, whatever that is. I don’t smirk to myself and think “Oh, how superior this time is, right here and right now. I truly weep for those that came before me. Behold: the pinnacle of perfection – the year 2011”. I like to think I have a more enlightened view of my position in the timeline than that.

Consider it research. Yeah, that’s it… sociological research. After watching a number of these films I have come to a number of conclusions. Here are a few:

1. Super-lopsided hyper-violence is always the first option to any problem whatsoever (Conan the Destroyer, Karate Kid – when the skeleton-dudes jump Daniel for some reason)
2. It doesn't matter if you are flagrantly violating the rules, endangering others, or just plain ol’ wreckin’ up the joint – no one should stop you from doing what you want to do, especially if you were told not to. (Smokey and the Bandit II, Cannonball Run)
3. The government has amazing and scary technological abilities and can and will disappear you in an instant. Luckily, at the same time, it is comprised of a bunch of doddering nincompoops that can't seem to do anything right. (Man With One Red Shoe, Real Genius)
4. Computers are the solution to everything but, in spite of our (or their) best wishes, they are destined to destroy our lives. (War Games, Electric Dreams)
5. Regardless of how bad your plan is, regardless of the odds, regardless of all that is physically possible or even remotely reasonable to wish for, you will come out on top if you believe in your cause enough. After all, you’re the good guy. (Iron Eagle, Secret of My Success, Red Dawn)

But can you imagine a world where the lessons learned from the above 25-year-old PG-Rated (!) movies became mainstream? What if these ideas became domestic, economic, and foreign policy? Man, what a hoot!

Oh… wait…

Anyway... Here are the rules I have for my collection. I am free to bend or break them as I see fit. They are my rules, after all:

• Must be rated PG-13 or under. Not for prudish reasons... This rule is here just for fun. So Conan the Barbarian is not allowed, but Conan the Destroyer is.
• Cannot be an "award-winning" or "classic" anything. Like I said, I am not interested in box office opinion. So Xanadu trumps E.T. here.
• Can't have sequels for sequels' sake. This is why Police Academy 2 and Revenge of the Nerds 2 are not allowed. If it is just an obvious studio money grab and does not serve to, however badly, forward the storyline then it is right out. (This is why Conan the Destroyer is allowed. But Iron Eagle is, cuz I want it to be)
• Must have been made between 1980 to 1989. Sadly, this eliminates Scavenger Hunt from the collection.
• Must currently be on DVD. It's 2011, FCOL. This takes Electric Dreams out of the list, which steams me up.
• Must come to you out of the blue. No looking up "bad 1980's movies" for ideas. That's cheating, that is... The type of movie you remember while at a stop light somewhere or digging through the $5 bin at Wal-Mart and go "Hey... Wow... Man that was terrible. I really need to see that again." is what should be on the list.

I'll look through my moveies and post my list in the sidebar sometime in the future. In the meantime, the pic at the upper left of this post is one of my old 1980s-based movie haikus. More to follow.  Enjoy, and feel free to submit your own!

New Puzzle Hint - TV Puzzle

It's been a while since I have posted a hint for one of my puzzles - here you go:

Hint 2 (Posted 02/08/11): Qba'g jbeel. Vg'f zbabnycunorgvp.


Don't know what this is?  Check out the sidebar on the right!
 
Good Luck!

Another Letter

Dear Cougar That Works Out At My Gym,

You probably know who I am so I won't bother introducing myself by name.  I'm the guy who has a near-constant disgusted look on his face that you apparently think is a vast improvement over the vomit-related reactions you otherwise inspire in those around you.

To be clear, just because I am not puking as you repeatedly saunter by in what can only be described as an unreasonably loose fitting powder blue camisole and black stretch pants does not mean that I am hitting on you. 

I used to think the old man who for some reason works out in business casual attire complete with khakis, a golf shirt, and a belt was by and far the least appropriately dressed person there.

God,  I miss those days.

I am a firm believer in "no means no".  Call me a gentleman, if you will. You are obviously more comfortable with the credo "if he maces me one more time, I'm gonna think about working out further away than 18 inches away from this guy".

The orangish hue of the bag that contains your Erector-set-like skeletal system is something that can only be achieved though years of exposure to near fatal doses of purely artificial UV light.  No.  I'm wrong.  I have seen material of that color and texture elsewhere but it is usually used in the construction of the bands of watches you can buy on QVC for ten dollars a dozen.

I kid my wife sometimes and tell her that as soon as my GQ photo shoot deal comes through I am totally dumping her.  See, that's my way of acknowledging that I have imperfections, and this acknowledgment is what prevents me from constantly humming the song "Oh Lord It's Hard to be Humble" while gazing lovingly at myself in one of the gym mirrors.  While I cheerfully give you a ten out of ten for self-confidence, I cannot help but think that your "all that and a bag of chips" mannerisms are drug induced, clearly listed in the "side effects may include..." documentation of whatever medication you are on that allows you to cheat Death for yet another day.

You have as much right to work out there as I do, I'll grant you that.  But is the exact geographical center of the gym the best place to do your thirty minutes of eye-watering yoga stretches?  I, and possibly anyone else with functioning optic nerves, would argue that the empty area in the corner marked "Stretching Station" might be a better choice.  Otherwise you may as well be yelling "Pay attention to me! Pay attention to me" while doing a little dance.

On second thought, don't do that.

Look, the last thing I need when I am trying to do a few sets of cooldown dips is to be uncomfortably trapped by what you probably consider a "come hither" look.  Now, I am not narcissistic enough to think I am the only one on your radar - you are clearly operating in broadcast mode here.  I just wish I could "opt out" or be placed on a "do not creep out" list so I can finish up my routine in peace.

I take some comfort in the fact that, statistically speaking, I should outlive you by a good decade and a half so I can look forward to a time in the future where my eyes don't involuntarily slam themselves shut in an effort of self-preservation as you mount the treadmill next to mine.  This assumes, though, that I can squeeze in time to exercise in between expensive therapy sessions focused on erasing these bad memories and replacing them with false ones that are far more pleasant.

Like being repeatedly shivved in a prison shower or something.

Sincerely,

That One Guy in the Mighty Taco T-Shirt

Interesting Times

There is a saying, attributed to the Chinese, that goes: “May you live in interesting times”. Basically, it is a curse that elegantly acknowledges that one of the things that people require for prosperity and happiness is the stability that comes with a schedule packed with uneventful, mundane, boring ol' stuff.

BTW, it is interesting that you only have to type the words “may you” into Google for the top suggestion to pop up with that exact saying. Fun.

I am not going to get into the details. Those of you that know, know. This is basically a note (like this whole blog, really) to Future Me that things are less than boring right now and that I shouldn't forget that once boring times return. This is also why I have not been posting so much lately – it's hard to get in the groove, you know? – but I wanted to throw something out there.

How bad is it? You remember the line from A Princess Bride that goes “Good night, Wesley. Good work. Sleep well. I'll most likely kill you in the morning”? It would be a huge improvement to live with that kind of stability...

Well, no, not really. Certainly not the “threat of death” part. That would kind of suck, and is not at all what I am trying to convey here, so just calm down. It's supposed to be a funny quote, and I liked it better than using a creepy Sword of Damocles reference.

It will all be cool again in time.

So... what have I been doing with my bad self?

Well, I finally finished reading The Count of Monte Cristo. It is a fantastic book, but I probably would not have started it, though, if I had realized it was, like, 1,300 pages long. The Kindle doesn't give “page numbers” since the font size can be varied. All I knew is that the “percent complete” number was changing very slowly but, by the time I realized how long it was I was hooked.

It is funny and has an appropriately happy ending. Well, happy for four of the people in it, at least... Everyone else kinda gets their backsides handed to them by a patient, vengeful, relentless, multi-billionaire/master-of-disguise/polyglot/expert swordsman/marksman. The protagonist dishes out revenge Terminator-style... assuming the Terminator decided to dispatch its targets using an unlimited credit card, scathing sarcasm, a flair for the dramatic, and light opera instead of just delivering a hyperalloy fist to the skull.

What else...

I stopped tracking distance-per-half-hour for my treadmill workouts and started skipping the “walking” parts of my run-walk-run strategy. I am now up to 15 continuous minutes running at 6.2 mph, and the rest of the time is done at 4.5 mph at a 10 degree incline. I am probably not going to be ready for the St. Patrick's Day 5K here but the weather is going to start warming up enough soon to take the runs outside so we will see.

Blog back to old form soon.

Yet Another Taste of Home

My sister came by to visit recently and she brought me a huge bag of candy we used to get for Halloween decades ago. Wax lips, wax bottles, candy buttons, and lots of other goodies were there. She even found some candy smokes (they are called “candy sticks” now, in case you didn't know, but they look and taste exactly the same). It was all awesome.

Except for one thing...

Before I start describing this treat from long, long ago I want to make sure you know this is just one person's opinion. I am writing this after a two-week break, so it is possible many people have just drifted away. That's cool.

But those of you who are still around may have read my review of Chocovine – the only drink I know of that tastes precisely how it looks. This review is gonna go pretty much like that.

My sister made me close my eyes and put the candy under my nose to try and get me to identify it by scent alone. That was completely unnecessary, it turns out, as every single other piece of candy, the bag the candy came in, and the table the bag was placed on, smelled just like what she was trying to get me to identify - Choward's Violet Mints.

Although the package clearly says “15 Mints”, these are not mints by any reasonable definition of the word. Go ahead and look it up. I'll wait. See? They are technically “mints” in the same way as a shotglass filled with English Leather is technically an “alcoholic beverage”.

What do they taste like? Well, the Wikipedia entry reminded me that we used to call this treat “soap candy” because we used to say it tastes like soap when we were little. Pfft, you wish, Younger Us. The only reason we used to think it tasted like soap was we were too young to come up with “Oh, God, it tastes I just took a big ol' lick of every single neck wattle in a bingo parlor”.

Weeks have gone by since my last exposure and I have been eating pepperocini after pepperocini non-stop trying to get the taste out of my mouth with no luck.

You know, maybe I need a glass of that Chocovine after all.