are the easiest! No thought, no time, but keep the blog alive.
Someday, blog, the video games will become tiresome, and blogging will become appealing again.
New Year's Recap - Part 2 (and Wildcard Weekend Preview)
We arrived in Seattle on Thursday night, fairly late, and Charles and Nate picked us up and whisked us off back to their relatively new and lovely home somewhere near Ravenna, north of the U District. It was cold the entire weekend, but clear, and again the mountain views from the city were gorgeous all four days we were there.
We woke up on the 31st, Friday, and Charles made delicious waffles. We went downtown during the day and walked around the market, had a drink or two at Kell's, ate lunch at Wild Ginger, and ran some errands for the party that night. Nate and Charles hosted the party, which was attended by about fourteen or so people. Gwen and I met various friends of Charles and Nate, mingled appropriately, and a good time was had by all.
On Saturday New Year's Day we relaxed most of the day. We stopped in Fremont for lunch and had a pretty good meal at a cultish vegetarian place where the food was fresh and the wait staff (all robed in Hari Krishna gear) was, frankly, creepy.
That evening the four of us met up with George, Cristin, Rodd, and Krista for a nice dinner at the Dahlia Lounge. I hadn't seen Rowdy Roddy since residency graduation and he went on to become the cover boy for every Tom Clancy Splinter Cell game by joining the real special forces. He couldn't tell us his official body count, but I'm betting it stands at 287 by now, the majority of his victims Pakistani Insurgents and most of those deaths coming via single silenced executioner-style head shot, though throat slitting is a close second.
Rodd did even less to dispel my commando image of him when he told of his home security system, which as I recall involves about fourteen different weapons scattered about the house and essentially has him camping out nightly in a sniper's nest in one of the upper corners of his family room. He lies awake each evening, deadly still, fingering the trigger of his modified Austrian assassin's rifle, just praying for someone to break in.
I kid, mostly.
RODD WAS IN A MOVIE ONCE
RODD'S KNIFE SKILLS, UNPARALLELED, COME IN HANDY ON HALLOWEEN
RODD AT WORK
After dinner we headed further into Belltown and stopped off at a bar on 2nd avenue. Then on a whim we ordered pitcher after pitcher of "PBR", trying to relive our old residency days I guess. Many stories and much catching up ensued, and by the end George, Rodd, and I were all fairly drunk. It was awesome to see everyone and I look forward to doing it again. (Favorite story: Rodd briefing a one-star general on one of his jungle deployments about some rabid monkeys who had bit some people and recommending they be brought in for "testing" followed by the description of the special forces hunt for them.)
RODD AND HIS UNIT BEGIN THE MONKEY HUNT
On Sunday I woke up with a solid hangover (mental note: avoid PBR in the future) but was feeling much better after a brunch at Rosebud. How many hangovers had I cured there when I lived in Seattle? Many. The food was delish and afterward I left Gwen, Nate, and Charles to their bar hopping while I wandered down to the old Fox Sports Grill, where I had wasted many Sundays in the fall while I lived there, and watched the last Sunday of regular season football. The Giants had a hope of making the playoffs, but only a fool's hope really, and even that ended with a Jay Cutler interception which propelled Green Bay to a win and a playoff berth over my beloved G-Men.
The Fox Sports Grill was a great place to watch football back in the day, I think, but since I've left the advancements in football viewership have kept coming and the place hasn't quite kept up. Mostly they lack HD screens and frankly I've become used to watching multiple games from the comfort of my own couch. As always week 17 is kind of odd, without the distraction of fantasy football as well as several meaningless "real life" games the viewing becomes a bit more distilled.
I sat at the bar and at some point a mildly attractive woman took the seat next to me. Following that I had the alternately amusing and annoying experience of a front row seat to multiple steakheads coming up to her and making their play. The woman was nice enough but not very bright - on several occasions she asked me "who needed to win today" in between ordering beer after beer. She would forget what I said and then ask again and again.
"I TOLD YOU if the Packers win they're in the playoffs!"
She was a Saints fan but New Orleans lost to the Bucs that morning. When that game was over she declared to me "I hate the Bucs - they beat us in the playoffs last year I think before we won the Super Bowl." I just stared at her for a few seconds and then resumed watching the games.
When it was over I joined up with the gang again and we had a few more drinks and took the picture below. That evening we headed out to Shiro's which lived up to all my prior expectations. I demanded we sit at the sushi bar for the best grub. Shiro was there, timeless, but we did get to sit in front of him, which was OK because the other chefs were rock stars too as far I'm concerned. As always at Shiro's, I tell them to fix me whatever they want and then I just sit back and eat and eat and eat in what becomes a euphoric haze of a meal. The Toro is made from real butter I here. Just awesome stuff.
When we got back to the place later we threw in this awful movie, called "The Room", which has become a cult classic for it's awfulness, and man was it bad. It was good-bad, though, and we were howling with derisive laughter at many a scene.
Monday we flew back to San Diego and well, that's about it.
And on to Football
The Season is over for the Giants, and I will have to wait another eight months before I get to see Eli Manning throw a tipped ball interception and follow it up with a world class Manning Face and his patented shucky shoulders. I've made my peace with the 2010 Giants season, because what else can I do? They seemed primed for a decent playoff run at least but it all went to hell in the last six minutes of that Eagles game. Now instead of rooting for big Blue I will be stuck staring daggers at the Eagles for the entirety of their playoff existence.
Papa Stup had this to say about the Giants season, which was sent to me right after the final game in a quick email:
"Giants won but looked like a team that was playing not to lose. ELI still very inconsistent. At least analyst are now pointing out his big problem is footwork. Not set, throws off back foot which causes ball to go high which is directly responsible for a lot of his interceptions. Special teams a F- all year. Too old linebackers need replacements. Faster secondary which wants to tackle not just throw the body. Need new running backs who are faster and can be thrown to out of the backfield to keep the defense honest. Three yards and a cloud of dust will not be acceptable for the future. Also wonder how smart some of these players really are. Seems to me they commit too many errors on coverage (defense) and routes (Offense). All of these are easy for anyone to see so the coaches should know and adapt during the game!!!"
He has also been harping on Eli's lack of strength lately, which has led to some amusing discussions as well. Eli is, by my dad's account, by far the weakest quarterback in the league. At this point I can't say I disagree.
Here's how the playoffs look right now, mere hours before the first game kicks off:
NFC
1)Atlanta
2)Chicago
3)Philly
4)Seattle
5)New Orleans
6)Green Bay
AFC
1)New England
2)Pittsburgh
3)Indy
4)KC
5)Baltimore
6)NY Jets
And here is my order of rooting priority for the playoffs:
1)Pittsburgh (for obvious reasons)
2)New Orleans (Still love Drew Brees and Sean Payton)
3)Green Bay (Would love Aaron Rodgers to stick it to the Favre legacy)
4)Indy (I think Peyton deserves a few more rings)
5)Seattle (Albeit there's no chance in hell they're winning)
6)Atlanta (Meh, I have less reasons to dislike this team I guess)
7)Chicago (Hate Cutler, but love the mascot)
8)KC (About as meh as I can get for a team)
9)Jets (I don't like this team, but I guess I like them better then the rest)
10)Pats (Brady sponsors Uggs now? Good God.)
11)Ravens ("And they cursed us (Ray Lewis)...MURDERER..." oh wait he's religious now so it's cool)
12)Season canceled, no champion crowned, football over forever
13)Nuclear War
14)Eagles (*initiate dagger staring*)
We woke up on the 31st, Friday, and Charles made delicious waffles. We went downtown during the day and walked around the market, had a drink or two at Kell's, ate lunch at Wild Ginger, and ran some errands for the party that night. Nate and Charles hosted the party, which was attended by about fourteen or so people. Gwen and I met various friends of Charles and Nate, mingled appropriately, and a good time was had by all.
On Saturday New Year's Day we relaxed most of the day. We stopped in Fremont for lunch and had a pretty good meal at a cultish vegetarian place where the food was fresh and the wait staff (all robed in Hari Krishna gear) was, frankly, creepy.
That evening the four of us met up with George, Cristin, Rodd, and Krista for a nice dinner at the Dahlia Lounge. I hadn't seen Rowdy Roddy since residency graduation and he went on to become the cover boy for every Tom Clancy Splinter Cell game by joining the real special forces. He couldn't tell us his official body count, but I'm betting it stands at 287 by now, the majority of his victims Pakistani Insurgents and most of those deaths coming via single silenced executioner-style head shot, though throat slitting is a close second.
Rodd did even less to dispel my commando image of him when he told of his home security system, which as I recall involves about fourteen different weapons scattered about the house and essentially has him camping out nightly in a sniper's nest in one of the upper corners of his family room. He lies awake each evening, deadly still, fingering the trigger of his modified Austrian assassin's rifle, just praying for someone to break in.
I kid, mostly.
RODD WAS IN A MOVIE ONCE
RODD'S KNIFE SKILLS, UNPARALLELED, COME IN HANDY ON HALLOWEEN
RODD AT WORKAfter dinner we headed further into Belltown and stopped off at a bar on 2nd avenue. Then on a whim we ordered pitcher after pitcher of "PBR", trying to relive our old residency days I guess. Many stories and much catching up ensued, and by the end George, Rodd, and I were all fairly drunk. It was awesome to see everyone and I look forward to doing it again. (Favorite story: Rodd briefing a one-star general on one of his jungle deployments about some rabid monkeys who had bit some people and recommending they be brought in for "testing" followed by the description of the special forces hunt for them.)
RODD AND HIS UNIT BEGIN THE MONKEY HUNTOn Sunday I woke up with a solid hangover (mental note: avoid PBR in the future) but was feeling much better after a brunch at Rosebud. How many hangovers had I cured there when I lived in Seattle? Many. The food was delish and afterward I left Gwen, Nate, and Charles to their bar hopping while I wandered down to the old Fox Sports Grill, where I had wasted many Sundays in the fall while I lived there, and watched the last Sunday of regular season football. The Giants had a hope of making the playoffs, but only a fool's hope really, and even that ended with a Jay Cutler interception which propelled Green Bay to a win and a playoff berth over my beloved G-Men.
The Fox Sports Grill was a great place to watch football back in the day, I think, but since I've left the advancements in football viewership have kept coming and the place hasn't quite kept up. Mostly they lack HD screens and frankly I've become used to watching multiple games from the comfort of my own couch. As always week 17 is kind of odd, without the distraction of fantasy football as well as several meaningless "real life" games the viewing becomes a bit more distilled.
I sat at the bar and at some point a mildly attractive woman took the seat next to me. Following that I had the alternately amusing and annoying experience of a front row seat to multiple steakheads coming up to her and making their play. The woman was nice enough but not very bright - on several occasions she asked me "who needed to win today" in between ordering beer after beer. She would forget what I said and then ask again and again.
"I TOLD YOU if the Packers win they're in the playoffs!"
She was a Saints fan but New Orleans lost to the Bucs that morning. When that game was over she declared to me "I hate the Bucs - they beat us in the playoffs last year I think before we won the Super Bowl." I just stared at her for a few seconds and then resumed watching the games.
When it was over I joined up with the gang again and we had a few more drinks and took the picture below. That evening we headed out to Shiro's which lived up to all my prior expectations. I demanded we sit at the sushi bar for the best grub. Shiro was there, timeless, but we did get to sit in front of him, which was OK because the other chefs were rock stars too as far I'm concerned. As always at Shiro's, I tell them to fix me whatever they want and then I just sit back and eat and eat and eat in what becomes a euphoric haze of a meal. The Toro is made from real butter I here. Just awesome stuff.
When we got back to the place later we threw in this awful movie, called "The Room", which has become a cult classic for it's awfulness, and man was it bad. It was good-bad, though, and we were howling with derisive laughter at many a scene.
Monday we flew back to San Diego and well, that's about it.
And on to Football
The Season is over for the Giants, and I will have to wait another eight months before I get to see Eli Manning throw a tipped ball interception and follow it up with a world class Manning Face and his patented shucky shoulders. I've made my peace with the 2010 Giants season, because what else can I do? They seemed primed for a decent playoff run at least but it all went to hell in the last six minutes of that Eagles game. Now instead of rooting for big Blue I will be stuck staring daggers at the Eagles for the entirety of their playoff existence.
Papa Stup had this to say about the Giants season, which was sent to me right after the final game in a quick email:
"Giants won but looked like a team that was playing not to lose. ELI still very inconsistent. At least analyst are now pointing out his big problem is footwork. Not set, throws off back foot which causes ball to go high which is directly responsible for a lot of his interceptions. Special teams a F- all year. Too old linebackers need replacements. Faster secondary which wants to tackle not just throw the body. Need new running backs who are faster and can be thrown to out of the backfield to keep the defense honest. Three yards and a cloud of dust will not be acceptable for the future. Also wonder how smart some of these players really are. Seems to me they commit too many errors on coverage (defense) and routes (Offense). All of these are easy for anyone to see so the coaches should know and adapt during the game!!!"
He has also been harping on Eli's lack of strength lately, which has led to some amusing discussions as well. Eli is, by my dad's account, by far the weakest quarterback in the league. At this point I can't say I disagree.
Here's how the playoffs look right now, mere hours before the first game kicks off:
NFC
1)Atlanta
2)Chicago
3)Philly
4)Seattle
5)New Orleans
6)Green Bay
AFC
1)New England
2)Pittsburgh
3)Indy
4)KC
5)Baltimore
6)NY Jets
And here is my order of rooting priority for the playoffs:
1)Pittsburgh (for obvious reasons)
2)New Orleans (Still love Drew Brees and Sean Payton)
3)Green Bay (Would love Aaron Rodgers to stick it to the Favre legacy)
4)Indy (I think Peyton deserves a few more rings)
5)Seattle (Albeit there's no chance in hell they're winning)
6)Atlanta (Meh, I have less reasons to dislike this team I guess)
7)Chicago (Hate Cutler, but love the mascot)
8)KC (About as meh as I can get for a team)
9)Jets (I don't like this team, but I guess I like them better then the rest)
10)Pats (Brady sponsors Uggs now? Good God.)
11)Ravens ("And they cursed us (Ray Lewis)...MURDERER..." oh wait he's religious now so it's cool)
12)Season canceled, no champion crowned, football over forever
13)Nuclear War
14)Eagles (*initiate dagger staring*)
New Year's Recap - Part 1
(Blogger's Note: I apologize for the short length of this post, but my current strategy to keep this blog going on a consistent basis is to post frequently but spend no more than an hour on a post. And what you see below is, believe it or not, an hour's worth of work. I type fast, but I think slow, I proofread often, and I edit frequently. I'm constantly rearranging sentences and paragraphs, and linking and pictures always takes longer than it seems to. Still, better to get something down and then hopefully keep it going rather than doing nothing.)
This is the Emerald City. I once lived there. I spent one year living in the city proper, and two years living in the surrounding area (Tacoma), and I always enjoy returning there. Gwen and I did as such for four days over the New Year's weekend.
When we were leaving the Army and Europe, it came down to a decision for us, between Seattle and San Diego. Gwen favored Seattle, and I favored San Diego. I won (we arm wrestled),BUT, it was actually a closer call than some would think (Gwen's got guns). For all of San Diego's charms (the brilliant weather, the close proximity of several lifelong friends, the brilliant weather again), it does not compare to Seattle in the departments of food and a sense of identity. San Diego, like much of southern California, is a sort of sprawling concrete jungle. Its chief strengths, in my opinion, are its astonishingly consistent weather and its downtown and isolated beach communities marching up the north county coast. Aside from beatific rolling hills I could take or leave the entire inland part, and the desert, which is not so far away, holds little appeal for me.
Seattle, on the other hand, is bursting with identity. The downtown is large but accessible, the surrounding districts unique and full of charm. The geography is visually stunning and includes all things I love: hills, water, and mountains, and the restaurant scene in Seattle puts just about every other city I've ever been in to shame, including the fabled New Orleans and even San Francisco (though I've perhaps not explored there enough to judge). San Diego's own restaurant scene, though certainly not bad, cannot compete. The microbrew scene is extensive (though San Diego can compete here), and the proximity to looming mountains is enchanting. It has a waterfront of course, though one that is distinctly different from that of San Diego's. The generally liberal nature of Seattle also appeals to me, but on the flip-side the average Seattlite you run into is much less likely to be openly friendly than the average San Diegan, a minus. (Translation: Seattle liberals tend to be unfriendly jerks.)
The big problem with Seattle, of course, is the weather. It may be a trite thing to comment on, and it might not affect all who live there (see: Gwendolyn circa 2001-2005), but it's no less true for many people, including me. There are nine months of a blackish gray shroud which descends upon the city like an alien mother-ship, and do not leave until early summer. By March in any given year the gray has won the battle against those of us with any slight predilection for seasonal affective disorder, and by April, at least in the years I lived there, I would be wandering around like Frodo in the end-stages of his journey to Mordor, forgetting the touch of grass and the sound of water. Give me several years there, even taking into account the stunning and rejuvenating summer, and I would get fat (less exercise outside, more beer drinking and food eating, and the cold), unhappy, and I would forget the taste of bread as well and be turned into a virtual Gollum.
*GOLLUM COUGH, GOLLUM COUGH*
So, alas, it's not meant to be for me, at least at this point. I'm over cold weather, for the most part, and Seattle, though not typically freezing, was effing cold during our visit. On the upside it was clear and all the mountain ranges were astonishingly visible, probably a worthy trade off, at least for a four day-trip.
And so we traveled there, mostly to see Gwen's brother and Nate, but also to catch up with other good friends including George and Cristin as well as a special guest appearance by "Rowdy" Roddy Marcum and his lovely wife Krista (I hope I spelled that right).
Gwen and I planned most of our trip around seeing Nate and Charles as well as George et al., however on a more secretive level we actually planned our entire trip around eating Seattle food. It was Wild Ginger's for lunch on New Year's Eve, followed by Dahlia Lounge the next night, followed by Rosebud for Sunday brunch and then Shiro's sushi for Sunday dinner. Drinks flowed before, after, and in between, and the calorie intake for the weekend stands at about 5500 calories per day, but worth it.
(Continued soon in Part 2!)
This is the Emerald City. I once lived there. I spent one year living in the city proper, and two years living in the surrounding area (Tacoma), and I always enjoy returning there. Gwen and I did as such for four days over the New Year's weekend.
When we were leaving the Army and Europe, it came down to a decision for us, between Seattle and San Diego. Gwen favored Seattle, and I favored San Diego. I won (we arm wrestled),BUT, it was actually a closer call than some would think (Gwen's got guns). For all of San Diego's charms (the brilliant weather, the close proximity of several lifelong friends, the brilliant weather again), it does not compare to Seattle in the departments of food and a sense of identity. San Diego, like much of southern California, is a sort of sprawling concrete jungle. Its chief strengths, in my opinion, are its astonishingly consistent weather and its downtown and isolated beach communities marching up the north county coast. Aside from beatific rolling hills I could take or leave the entire inland part, and the desert, which is not so far away, holds little appeal for me.
Seattle, on the other hand, is bursting with identity. The downtown is large but accessible, the surrounding districts unique and full of charm. The geography is visually stunning and includes all things I love: hills, water, and mountains, and the restaurant scene in Seattle puts just about every other city I've ever been in to shame, including the fabled New Orleans and even San Francisco (though I've perhaps not explored there enough to judge). San Diego's own restaurant scene, though certainly not bad, cannot compete. The microbrew scene is extensive (though San Diego can compete here), and the proximity to looming mountains is enchanting. It has a waterfront of course, though one that is distinctly different from that of San Diego's. The generally liberal nature of Seattle also appeals to me, but on the flip-side the average Seattlite you run into is much less likely to be openly friendly than the average San Diegan, a minus. (Translation: Seattle liberals tend to be unfriendly jerks.)
The big problem with Seattle, of course, is the weather. It may be a trite thing to comment on, and it might not affect all who live there (see: Gwendolyn circa 2001-2005), but it's no less true for many people, including me. There are nine months of a blackish gray shroud which descends upon the city like an alien mother-ship, and do not leave until early summer. By March in any given year the gray has won the battle against those of us with any slight predilection for seasonal affective disorder, and by April, at least in the years I lived there, I would be wandering around like Frodo in the end-stages of his journey to Mordor, forgetting the touch of grass and the sound of water. Give me several years there, even taking into account the stunning and rejuvenating summer, and I would get fat (less exercise outside, more beer drinking and food eating, and the cold), unhappy, and I would forget the taste of bread as well and be turned into a virtual Gollum.
*GOLLUM COUGH, GOLLUM COUGH*
So, alas, it's not meant to be for me, at least at this point. I'm over cold weather, for the most part, and Seattle, though not typically freezing, was effing cold during our visit. On the upside it was clear and all the mountain ranges were astonishingly visible, probably a worthy trade off, at least for a four day-trip.
And so we traveled there, mostly to see Gwen's brother and Nate, but also to catch up with other good friends including George and Cristin as well as a special guest appearance by "Rowdy" Roddy Marcum and his lovely wife Krista (I hope I spelled that right).
Gwen and I planned most of our trip around seeing Nate and Charles as well as George et al., however on a more secretive level we actually planned our entire trip around eating Seattle food. It was Wild Ginger's for lunch on New Year's Eve, followed by Dahlia Lounge the next night, followed by Rosebud for Sunday brunch and then Shiro's sushi for Sunday dinner. Drinks flowed before, after, and in between, and the calorie intake for the weekend stands at about 5500 calories per day, but worth it.
(Continued soon in Part 2!)
Christmas Recap - Part 2
The week leading up to Christmas here in San Diego was characterized by highly atypical rains which resembled nothing short of a biblical attack on the city. For three days straight it poured like a jungle scene in Lost and every mundane event became a major undertaking, from driving to work (45 mph tops some days, water flooding various highway lanes) to walking the dog (who hates rain and is fickle about picking her potty spots - turns out 25 mph winds and waves of pelting rain don't help the process).
One morning I had to sit for a full 10 minutes before the rain died enough to allow me to get from the parking lot to the building without being absolutely soaked, even with umbrella in hand. This is not a common occurrence in Southern California. I thought a bunch of my patients would no-show or cancel on the bad days but to my shock every 84-year-old in sight still made it to the clinic to demand their viagra, a scary thought indeed because it means they were also out on the roads on those days.
Adding to the apocalyptic feel was the fact that I resumed commuting with books on CD this particular week. (I gave up on Sirius NFL radio and football podcasts for the year because of the Giants' collapse the Sunday prior. Not wanting to hear about the "greatest punt return in NFL history" or the "worst fourth quarter collapse in NFL history" over and over again, I opted to just focus on something else and pretend it never happened.) The first book on CD I rented from the library was "World War Z", which carries the subtitle "An Oral History of the Zombie War". It's a great book, and well worth the read/listen, but with its creepy background music, talk of a black sky, and gruesome post-civilization feel it definitely added to the sense of end-times while I was driving through monsoon after monsoon on my way to work and back.
I worked all the days leading up to Christmas but was off for Friday Christmas Eve and the weekend itself. This year Gwen and I opted to relax, not travel and do absolutely nothing for Christmas. Our weekend was very mellow and mostly entailed me playing online Madden, fretting about my fantasy football teams, and us watching the Lord of the Rings trilogy and drinking, all annual traditions in our house.
The Lord of the Rings Extended Edition is not yet in Blu-ray (The cinematic edition IS, but once you go Extended, you never go back) and I eagerly await its appearance. The standard-def DVDs are pretty solid, but certainly not Blu-ray quality, and it seems we are only watching things in hi-def these days. This viewing marked the first occasion where we watched on the TV's natural setting of 120 Mhz (we turned that feature off last year). The higher frame rate clarifies things but also cheapens them somehow, making things more realistic, like they are happening outside your window, but less cinematic. In the end it looks more like high-quality video then film, and honestly I'm not sure I'm a fan of watching everything in this setting. Some films are probably best viewed with a slight hint of non-reality covering the proceedings and the LOTR trilogy might just fit into that category. From my perspective the jury is still out on the matter.
My Christmas bounty this year included included many fine gifts, chief among them a ping-pong table! I have been jones-ing for one ever since we moved in, with visions of precise attacking-style ninja shots in the setting of serious ping-pong alternating with visions of high arcing cannonballs bashing the rims of red party cups amidst raucous laughter in the setting of beer pong. Now both fantasies may be entertained.
Gwen's presentation of the gift cannot be ignored. The first gift I was made to unwrap was a heavy rectangular object which I couldn't quite figure out. When the paper came off it revealed a 12-pack of Coors Light. Within seconds all became clear, and the next packaged handed to me was a set of paddles, followed by white balls and other ping pong supplies, and finally a walk out to the storage garage where she had hidden the self-assembled table. Strong work from Gwendolyn, who has proven time and time again to be a shrewd gift ninja, able to hide large objects from me under my very nose. Well played, madam.
We are looking to get a grill this spring and then my plan to turn our house into barbecue ping pong dance party central in time for summer will be complete.
And thus ends the Christmas Recap. Stay tuned for New Year's Weekend Recap coming soon!
Until then, some pictures of Mon Mothma Kwanzaa Blow Out Celebration 2010.
One morning I had to sit for a full 10 minutes before the rain died enough to allow me to get from the parking lot to the building without being absolutely soaked, even with umbrella in hand. This is not a common occurrence in Southern California. I thought a bunch of my patients would no-show or cancel on the bad days but to my shock every 84-year-old in sight still made it to the clinic to demand their viagra, a scary thought indeed because it means they were also out on the roads on those days.
Adding to the apocalyptic feel was the fact that I resumed commuting with books on CD this particular week. (I gave up on Sirius NFL radio and football podcasts for the year because of the Giants' collapse the Sunday prior. Not wanting to hear about the "greatest punt return in NFL history" or the "worst fourth quarter collapse in NFL history" over and over again, I opted to just focus on something else and pretend it never happened.) The first book on CD I rented from the library was "World War Z", which carries the subtitle "An Oral History of the Zombie War". It's a great book, and well worth the read/listen, but with its creepy background music, talk of a black sky, and gruesome post-civilization feel it definitely added to the sense of end-times while I was driving through monsoon after monsoon on my way to work and back.
I worked all the days leading up to Christmas but was off for Friday Christmas Eve and the weekend itself. This year Gwen and I opted to relax, not travel and do absolutely nothing for Christmas. Our weekend was very mellow and mostly entailed me playing online Madden, fretting about my fantasy football teams, and us watching the Lord of the Rings trilogy and drinking, all annual traditions in our house.
The Lord of the Rings Extended Edition is not yet in Blu-ray (The cinematic edition IS, but once you go Extended, you never go back) and I eagerly await its appearance. The standard-def DVDs are pretty solid, but certainly not Blu-ray quality, and it seems we are only watching things in hi-def these days. This viewing marked the first occasion where we watched on the TV's natural setting of 120 Mhz (we turned that feature off last year). The higher frame rate clarifies things but also cheapens them somehow, making things more realistic, like they are happening outside your window, but less cinematic. In the end it looks more like high-quality video then film, and honestly I'm not sure I'm a fan of watching everything in this setting. Some films are probably best viewed with a slight hint of non-reality covering the proceedings and the LOTR trilogy might just fit into that category. From my perspective the jury is still out on the matter.
My Christmas bounty this year included included many fine gifts, chief among them a ping-pong table! I have been jones-ing for one ever since we moved in, with visions of precise attacking-style ninja shots in the setting of serious ping-pong alternating with visions of high arcing cannonballs bashing the rims of red party cups amidst raucous laughter in the setting of beer pong. Now both fantasies may be entertained.
Gwen's presentation of the gift cannot be ignored. The first gift I was made to unwrap was a heavy rectangular object which I couldn't quite figure out. When the paper came off it revealed a 12-pack of Coors Light. Within seconds all became clear, and the next packaged handed to me was a set of paddles, followed by white balls and other ping pong supplies, and finally a walk out to the storage garage where she had hidden the self-assembled table. Strong work from Gwendolyn, who has proven time and time again to be a shrewd gift ninja, able to hide large objects from me under my very nose. Well played, madam.
We are looking to get a grill this spring and then my plan to turn our house into barbecue ping pong dance party central in time for summer will be complete.
Soon to be our house!
And thus ends the Christmas Recap. Stay tuned for New Year's Weekend Recap coming soon!
Until then, some pictures of Mon Mothma Kwanzaa Blow Out Celebration 2010.
Christmas Recap - Part 1
Christmas has come and gone and here's how things went down in our neighborhood.
In my last post I detailed the Friday the 17th where Gwen and I went out and gorged ourselves on delicious beast flesh. The following night was our annual "Holiday Party" with our local group of San Diego friends. But as the term 'Holiday Party' is so generic, and at the risk of being labeled un-PC jerks, we went ahead and claimed our party as our own, naming it what we really felt:
The Mon Mothma Kwanzaa Blowout Celebration 2010.
"Many Bothans died to bring you the best damn holiday party of 2010!"
Many Bothans died to bring us that party - hell we killed a few just naming the event come to think of it. In fact turns out whole multitudes of Bothans were slaughtered again and again in the planning, execution, and clean-up phases. So high was the body count that eventually even that joke was killed. Barely. But it was worth it, to get together with friends and celebrate our deeply rooted African heritage.
The party was as usual a blast. Gwen and I hosted for the first time seeing as how Eryn and Trisha conveniently skipped town permanently to London to avoid hosting. There was no trash-talking Crossbows and Catapults sessions, as in years past, but there was the annual Secret Santa gift exchange complete with international web-cam Skype sessions straight to London. Iwan turned out to be my Secret Santa, and he got me the Predator "Ultimate Hunter" Blu Ray DVD with the didn't-really-need-to-be-said caveat that "When something comes in an "Ultimate Hunter" edition, I buy it for my friends because that's my policy" - a proper sentiment by all accounts. I also got a "Big Cheese Pizza" T-shirt deservedly making fun of my pescatarian ways, and a Best Buy gift certificate which I intend to use to purchase something to help me waste more time, because I need that.
The majority of the party was a delightful affair characterized by delicious, if too much, food, good conversation and warm company. It was, as it is every year, a marvelous time. By the time most decent people left it was down to Iwan, Little Buhr, and myself, and the real drinking began. We ended up playing the Wii until all hours of the night after doing shots for Gwen's official birthday which arrived at midnight. We played Super Mario Bros. Wii on the cooperative setting, though the the term 'cooperative' was misleading as we were quick to flagellate one another when someone screwed up. At some point a "shots for failure" policy was initiated, which eventually took its toll on all of us.
The night ended when we decided to switch up games and play some NBA Jam, only I couldn't quite exchange the discs because it was frankly too hard at that point in my alcohol consumption and fatigue cycle and I preferred to simply pass out with the process half-way finished. I collapsed onto the rug with the NBA Jam disc still in my hand as if I had been shot by a sniper while trying to make the switch. Iwan likewise clocked out on the couch, and Justin, left awake and staring at the lifeless bodies of his two friends, quickly followed suit. It was perhaps 4 am.
I woke up at maybe 6 am with a face full of carpet and hauled myself upstairs to bed. When I awoke again at 7:45 am, freaking out because it was my morning to walk the dog, I was still fairly intoxicated. I ran downstairs but Gwen was already up and out with the dog - she had, bless her, sensed my imminent uselessness that morning. I trudged back upstairs and went back to bed.
The next time I awoke it was 11 o'clock and all I could think was, "Oh God, I'm missing football - I'm missing Giants vs. Eagles!". I ran downstairs, slightly less drunk but infinitely more hungover and assumed the position in front of multiple TVs.
The Giants were up 24-3 or something, late second quarter. Hey, this wasn't going to be half-bad. Nice work boys, let's wrap up the NFC East! Well, it didn't turn out like that, and over the next few hours the second half evolved into one of the three worst losses I have ever experienced with my G-Men (thank God we had the 2000 Super Bowl as a buffer), as Michael Vick "activated" like a Tecmo Bowl player and went ape all over the field, amassing 21 points in 6 minutes or something ridiculous. Neither the dog (on principle), my dad (Tom Coughlin is expressly forbidden from ever entering our house) or I were happy with the result.
By the time DeSean Fuckface Jackson returned that dreaded punt for the final touchdown, my hangover had reached its apex and as he crested the goal line, skirting near it but not crossing it, and as he pumped his fist in celebration, each pump hit me like a hammer to the temple and a dagger to the heart.
Desean Jackson - Talented Receiver, Full-Fledged Asshole
The Eagles won, and the rest is history. The next few days, despite being in the middle of what is classically known as "The Most Wonderful Time of the Year", I was in a funk. As bad as my gameday hangover was during the game, it actually protected me in some bizarro fashion by limiting my ability to process what I had seen. The next few days things got worse. I couldn't believe the collapse - it literally depressed me - and I had to tune out all football.
My normal routine of NFL blogs, websites, and podcasts was shunned and I just sort of went through the week in a fog wishing that the football season would just be over. But alas, it wasn't, and frankly the Giants weren't yet done sucking.
The week dragged, but I slowly climbed out of it, and then Christmas arrived.
Continued in Part 2 Coming Soon!
In my last post I detailed the Friday the 17th where Gwen and I went out and gorged ourselves on delicious beast flesh. The following night was our annual "Holiday Party" with our local group of San Diego friends. But as the term 'Holiday Party' is so generic, and at the risk of being labeled un-PC jerks, we went ahead and claimed our party as our own, naming it what we really felt:
The Mon Mothma Kwanzaa Blowout Celebration 2010.
"Many Bothans died to bring you the best damn holiday party of 2010!" Many Bothans died to bring us that party - hell we killed a few just naming the event come to think of it. In fact turns out whole multitudes of Bothans were slaughtered again and again in the planning, execution, and clean-up phases. So high was the body count that eventually even that joke was killed. Barely. But it was worth it, to get together with friends and celebrate our deeply rooted African heritage.
The party was as usual a blast. Gwen and I hosted for the first time seeing as how Eryn and Trisha conveniently skipped town permanently to London to avoid hosting. There was no trash-talking Crossbows and Catapults sessions, as in years past, but there was the annual Secret Santa gift exchange complete with international web-cam Skype sessions straight to London. Iwan turned out to be my Secret Santa, and he got me the Predator "Ultimate Hunter" Blu Ray DVD with the didn't-really-need-to-be-said caveat that "When something comes in an "Ultimate Hunter" edition, I buy it for my friends because that's my policy" - a proper sentiment by all accounts. I also got a "Big Cheese Pizza" T-shirt deservedly making fun of my pescatarian ways, and a Best Buy gift certificate which I intend to use to purchase something to help me waste more time, because I need that.
The majority of the party was a delightful affair characterized by delicious, if too much, food, good conversation and warm company. It was, as it is every year, a marvelous time. By the time most decent people left it was down to Iwan, Little Buhr, and myself, and the real drinking began. We ended up playing the Wii until all hours of the night after doing shots for Gwen's official birthday which arrived at midnight. We played Super Mario Bros. Wii on the cooperative setting, though the the term 'cooperative' was misleading as we were quick to flagellate one another when someone screwed up. At some point a "shots for failure" policy was initiated, which eventually took its toll on all of us.
The night ended when we decided to switch up games and play some NBA Jam, only I couldn't quite exchange the discs because it was frankly too hard at that point in my alcohol consumption and fatigue cycle and I preferred to simply pass out with the process half-way finished. I collapsed onto the rug with the NBA Jam disc still in my hand as if I had been shot by a sniper while trying to make the switch. Iwan likewise clocked out on the couch, and Justin, left awake and staring at the lifeless bodies of his two friends, quickly followed suit. It was perhaps 4 am.
I woke up at maybe 6 am with a face full of carpet and hauled myself upstairs to bed. When I awoke again at 7:45 am, freaking out because it was my morning to walk the dog, I was still fairly intoxicated. I ran downstairs but Gwen was already up and out with the dog - she had, bless her, sensed my imminent uselessness that morning. I trudged back upstairs and went back to bed.
The next time I awoke it was 11 o'clock and all I could think was, "Oh God, I'm missing football - I'm missing Giants vs. Eagles!". I ran downstairs, slightly less drunk but infinitely more hungover and assumed the position in front of multiple TVs.
The Giants were up 24-3 or something, late second quarter. Hey, this wasn't going to be half-bad. Nice work boys, let's wrap up the NFC East! Well, it didn't turn out like that, and over the next few hours the second half evolved into one of the three worst losses I have ever experienced with my G-Men (thank God we had the 2000 Super Bowl as a buffer), as Michael Vick "activated" like a Tecmo Bowl player and went ape all over the field, amassing 21 points in 6 minutes or something ridiculous. Neither the dog (on principle), my dad (Tom Coughlin is expressly forbidden from ever entering our house) or I were happy with the result.
By the time DeSean Fuckface Jackson returned that dreaded punt for the final touchdown, my hangover had reached its apex and as he crested the goal line, skirting near it but not crossing it, and as he pumped his fist in celebration, each pump hit me like a hammer to the temple and a dagger to the heart.
Desean Jackson - Talented Receiver, Full-Fledged AssholeThe Eagles won, and the rest is history. The next few days, despite being in the middle of what is classically known as "The Most Wonderful Time of the Year", I was in a funk. As bad as my gameday hangover was during the game, it actually protected me in some bizarro fashion by limiting my ability to process what I had seen. The next few days things got worse. I couldn't believe the collapse - it literally depressed me - and I had to tune out all football.
My normal routine of NFL blogs, websites, and podcasts was shunned and I just sort of went through the week in a fog wishing that the football season would just be over. But alas, it wasn't, and frankly the Giants weren't yet done sucking.
The week dragged, but I slowly climbed out of it, and then Christmas arrived.
Continued in Part 2 Coming Soon!
Beef - It's what for Dinner, well just this one night
For those of you who actually continue to refresh this site, please know that I do, too.
And for the record, I remain overwhelmed at the concept of bring this blog back online full time. As each week passes it seems like six new bloggable events happen, and I swear each time a week does go by I feel like I'm going to sit down and slap up one giant monster post to encompass it all.. And guess what? It hasn't happened.
Seeing as that plan has consistently failed, I've decided to start smaller, with one event at a time. Like the following...
Last Friday night I took Gwen out for her birthday dinner, and the two of us decided that this would be our grand occasion to have steak. It had been over a year and a half since I had last eaten any "meat" of any kind that wasn't fish. Oh sure, I'd found a bacon bit or two in the "corn chowder" at work once (which was probably derived from chicken stock come to think of it), but on the the whole I had seriously avoided any significant chunk of non-aquatic meat of any kind for a fairly long time.
I became a "Pescatarian" for health reasons, mostly, and I'm pretty sure Gwen followed suit with the same intentions. Given my job and the amount of obesity and poor overall health I'm exposed to, I became interested in and started researching more about nutrition. I still don't know what the perfect diet is, but from research I can tell you it's mostly vegetables, fruits, and natural foods. It does not exclude meat, I think, but it does limit it, and I do think that fish is best, followed by lean meats (fowl/pork), followed lastly by dairy and beef. And the biggest thing anyone can do is to reduce refined, processed sugars. That stuff is the devil, and it's everywhere, and though I try to cut down I still eat too much, but I digress. Back to meat.
As a personality type, I'm not a great moderator. Meaning that I couldn't just give up meat partially. If I did that, I would start strong, then lapse a little, then a little more, and then finally I'd be having a flash fried buffalo off a spit every night of the week. It's not that I don't like meat, it's that I know I couldn't limit meat. So I gave it up.
And for the most part, I've been pretty happy with that decision. With the amount of fish options in Southern California, I barely even feel like a "vegetarian", which I guess I'm not. I don't miss chicken, turkey, pork, chuck, lamb or low grade meats. I don't miss any of it, actually. Except steak.
I do miss steak on occasion. Steak is tender. Steak is good. Me like steak.
And so, Gwen and I went last Friday, on a mission, to Cowboy Star, a relatively new steakhouse in downtown San Diego. The reviews on yelp were good, there was an acclaimed butcher shop attached to the restaurant, and the time had come. We sat down, spoke with the friendly wait staff, and proceeded to order steak.
We ordered a 40 oz. Porterhouse for two, and man was it good. Soft, tender, carnivor-ific. Halfway through the meal I found myself pushing the vegetables and potatoes - my new bread and butter at dinner - the hell out of the way to make more room for more meat.
I enjoyed every bite. We finished the meal stuffed, wrapped up a bottle wine, enjoyed Gwen's free birthday chocolate lava dessert, and headed home.
Until next year, steak.
And for the record, I remain overwhelmed at the concept of bring this blog back online full time. As each week passes it seems like six new bloggable events happen, and I swear each time a week does go by I feel like I'm going to sit down and slap up one giant monster post to encompass it all.. And guess what? It hasn't happened.
Seeing as that plan has consistently failed, I've decided to start smaller, with one event at a time. Like the following...
Last Friday night I took Gwen out for her birthday dinner, and the two of us decided that this would be our grand occasion to have steak. It had been over a year and a half since I had last eaten any "meat" of any kind that wasn't fish. Oh sure, I'd found a bacon bit or two in the "corn chowder" at work once (which was probably derived from chicken stock come to think of it), but on the the whole I had seriously avoided any significant chunk of non-aquatic meat of any kind for a fairly long time.
I became a "Pescatarian" for health reasons, mostly, and I'm pretty sure Gwen followed suit with the same intentions. Given my job and the amount of obesity and poor overall health I'm exposed to, I became interested in and started researching more about nutrition. I still don't know what the perfect diet is, but from research I can tell you it's mostly vegetables, fruits, and natural foods. It does not exclude meat, I think, but it does limit it, and I do think that fish is best, followed by lean meats (fowl/pork), followed lastly by dairy and beef. And the biggest thing anyone can do is to reduce refined, processed sugars. That stuff is the devil, and it's everywhere, and though I try to cut down I still eat too much, but I digress. Back to meat.
As a personality type, I'm not a great moderator. Meaning that I couldn't just give up meat partially. If I did that, I would start strong, then lapse a little, then a little more, and then finally I'd be having a flash fried buffalo off a spit every night of the week. It's not that I don't like meat, it's that I know I couldn't limit meat. So I gave it up.
And for the most part, I've been pretty happy with that decision. With the amount of fish options in Southern California, I barely even feel like a "vegetarian", which I guess I'm not. I don't miss chicken, turkey, pork, chuck, lamb or low grade meats. I don't miss any of it, actually. Except steak.
I do miss steak on occasion. Steak is tender. Steak is good. Me like steak.
And so, Gwen and I went last Friday, on a mission, to Cowboy Star, a relatively new steakhouse in downtown San Diego. The reviews on yelp were good, there was an acclaimed butcher shop attached to the restaurant, and the time had come. We sat down, spoke with the friendly wait staff, and proceeded to order steak.
We ordered a 40 oz. Porterhouse for two, and man was it good. Soft, tender, carnivor-ific. Halfway through the meal I found myself pushing the vegetables and potatoes - my new bread and butter at dinner - the hell out of the way to make more room for more meat.
I enjoyed every bite. We finished the meal stuffed, wrapped up a bottle wine, enjoyed Gwen's free birthday chocolate lava dessert, and headed home.
Until next year, steak.
New Look
I haven't been here in a while but have been thinking about firing this place up again. There's so much going on in the past year it seems almost foolish not to post every now and again.
The first step is to try a new look, and I've gotten that far. I view it like cleaning off an old work desk before starting a new project.
So now the desk is clear, and I suppose it's time to get down to work.
But first - a picture of a bear!
The first step is to try a new look, and I've gotten that far. I view it like cleaning off an old work desk before starting a new project.
So now the desk is clear, and I suppose it's time to get down to work.
But first - a picture of a bear!
Bad Day in the Stup/Brophy House
LT continues to destroy any childhood idolization I had of him. As if repeated crack offenses or leaving the scene of an accident weren't enough, now he's gone ahead and allegedly raped a 16 year old. I could care less if he uses drugs in his spare time. Leaving the scene of accident? That's pretty lame. But rape? Yikes.
That's it, I'm finally tearing my posters off the wall. Harry Carson, you're in.
And poor Gwen has yet to decide what to do with her Roethlisberger jersey. Check out this Sports Illustrated Article. Turns out Big Ben is more or less a Grade A Douche Bag. I've never been so happy we drafted Eli Manning instead.
"South Africans battle baboons in city streets"
This is a pretty typical headline these days, and it certainly piqued my interest while browsing cnn.com this afternoon. In fact, before I make fun of just how ridiculous and exaggerated this headline is, I really should give pause and think of how well it worked on me. Damn those marketing guys are good.
I read a lot of science/fantasy fiction, and so when I see a headline like this, I immediately think of an unchecked ARMY of baboons, led by a grizzled gray-haired elder baboon (presumably with an eye patch), brandishing makeshift clubs, charging into the city, breaking car windows, bashing the hell out of patio furniture, and frenzying en mass to pummel and fling feces at some poor villagers caught in the open, stopping their hellish cavalcade only briefly to let out loud whoops and bare fangs before diving in again.
That is what I imagine, and I don't know why, but I find it hilarious.
So when I watch the video attached to this link:
http://www.cnn.com/2010/WORLD/africa/04/26/baboons.south.africa/index.html?hpt=C2
I feel like I've been duped again by the headlines. It appears the baboon "war" has been slightly exaggerated.
Despite the letdown, I remain amused. What I find funny, even in this video, are the photos of baboons getting into stuff: Baboons running around on the roofs, baboons prying at car door handles as if mid-carjacking, and best of all, one random baboon trying to work a cell phone.
I'm sure some poor bastard left his cell phone lying around outside at some point, only to realize it a moment later after hearing a wild shriek from out on the patio. He probably ran outside, already too too late but just in time to see some red-assed baboon sprinting the other direction, whooping it up with his new toy.
Then, I imagine with glee, that same guy staring helplessly as the baboon sat down and tried to work the thing from the safety of a large rock it had just scampered up.
"Hey Joe, what's going on?"
Angry point...
"That baboon stole my phone!"
That is hilarious to me, and made no less comical by the fact that the word "baboon" is inherently amusing in itself. It seems to imply by its very phonetics an aggressive yet impish primate who loves to get in to shit and then promptly whoop it up.
I for one, greet this "battle with baboons", with open arms.
I can't believe much the owner of that phone was schooled by this baboon. And how awesome would it be if this baboon took a picture of its junk and texted it to all the contacts on the phone?
I read a lot of science/fantasy fiction, and so when I see a headline like this, I immediately think of an unchecked ARMY of baboons, led by a grizzled gray-haired elder baboon (presumably with an eye patch), brandishing makeshift clubs, charging into the city, breaking car windows, bashing the hell out of patio furniture, and frenzying en mass to pummel and fling feces at some poor villagers caught in the open, stopping their hellish cavalcade only briefly to let out loud whoops and bare fangs before diving in again.
That is what I imagine, and I don't know why, but I find it hilarious.
So when I watch the video attached to this link:
http://www.cnn.com/2010/WORLD/africa/04/26/baboons.south.africa/index.html?hpt=C2
I feel like I've been duped again by the headlines. It appears the baboon "war" has been slightly exaggerated.
Despite the letdown, I remain amused. What I find funny, even in this video, are the photos of baboons getting into stuff: Baboons running around on the roofs, baboons prying at car door handles as if mid-carjacking, and best of all, one random baboon trying to work a cell phone.
I'm sure some poor bastard left his cell phone lying around outside at some point, only to realize it a moment later after hearing a wild shriek from out on the patio. He probably ran outside, already too too late but just in time to see some red-assed baboon sprinting the other direction, whooping it up with his new toy.
Then, I imagine with glee, that same guy staring helplessly as the baboon sat down and tried to work the thing from the safety of a large rock it had just scampered up.
"Hey Joe, what's going on?"
Angry point...
"That baboon stole my phone!"
That is hilarious to me, and made no less comical by the fact that the word "baboon" is inherently amusing in itself. It seems to imply by its very phonetics an aggressive yet impish primate who loves to get in to shit and then promptly whoop it up.
I for one, greet this "battle with baboons", with open arms.
I can't believe much the owner of that phone was schooled by this baboon. And how awesome would it be if this baboon took a picture of its junk and texted it to all the contacts on the phone?
Unfortunately, Gandalf escaped....
Here are a couple of links detailing an especially ridiculous situation in our present day world.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/8598134.stm
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=121715788&ps=cprs
A TV personality in Saudi Arabia, daring to "predict the future", is accused of sorcery and sentenced to death.
It's almost as if Saudi Arabian authorities are doing The Onion's job for them.
When I read something like this, the cynical part of me is left wondering what sort of awful place Saudi Arabia (where God forbid you open a woman's fitness club) will devolve into once the world could care less about its oil, its main source of income dries up, and the its leaders become poor while its masses stay uneducated and become angry. Oh right, it will probably turn into most of the other parts of the middle east.
On the other hand, the slightly giddy part of me focuses on the concept that a country, in our world, today, in 2010, on earth, actually has a section in its law articles referring to "sorcery", and details it as a crime. In some ways, I must admit, this is actually kinda awesome. (As long as you don't actually live there I mean.)
Here is a picture of Ali Hussain Sibat, a Lebanese man, host of a radio show where he "sometimes predicted the future", who currently stands accused of first degree sorcery:
According to the prosecution this is a photo of Sibat in the studio during a recording session:
It turns out the Saudi Arabians are very good at this sort of thing. According to the CSI Saudi Arabia show (Theme Song: Pinball Wizard) pilot, the crack team struck a deal with the finally captured Merlin - now he works FOR them. (The chemistry between Merlin and the cool-as-ice, besunglassed, one-line maestro team leader is reportedly AWESOME.) With Merlin's help, turns out CSI Saudi Arabia almost always get their man:
Captured at Orthanc
Caught but sacrificed himself rather than be taken alive
Crazy old man thought dead, but reportedly now more powerful than Arabian David Caruso can possibly imagine
Captured, let off on brilliantly played "Enchanter Technicality" defense, now at large
Evaded capture, last seen heading to Gray Havens. (Gwendolyn Brophy found nearby, crying.)
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/8598134.stm
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=121715788&ps=cprs
A TV personality in Saudi Arabia, daring to "predict the future", is accused of sorcery and sentenced to death.
It's almost as if Saudi Arabian authorities are doing The Onion's job for them.
When I read something like this, the cynical part of me is left wondering what sort of awful place Saudi Arabia (where God forbid you open a woman's fitness club) will devolve into once the world could care less about its oil, its main source of income dries up, and the its leaders become poor while its masses stay uneducated and become angry. Oh right, it will probably turn into most of the other parts of the middle east.
On the other hand, the slightly giddy part of me focuses on the concept that a country, in our world, today, in 2010, on earth, actually has a section in its law articles referring to "sorcery", and details it as a crime. In some ways, I must admit, this is actually kinda awesome. (As long as you don't actually live there I mean.)
Here is a picture of Ali Hussain Sibat, a Lebanese man, host of a radio show where he "sometimes predicted the future", who currently stands accused of first degree sorcery:
According to the prosecution this is a photo of Sibat in the studio during a recording session:
It turns out the Saudi Arabians are very good at this sort of thing. According to the CSI Saudi Arabia show (Theme Song: Pinball Wizard) pilot, the crack team struck a deal with the finally captured Merlin - now he works FOR them. (The chemistry between Merlin and the cool-as-ice, besunglassed, one-line maestro team leader is reportedly AWESOME.) With Merlin's help, turns out CSI Saudi Arabia almost always get their man:
Captured at Orthanc
Caught but sacrificed himself rather than be taken alive
Crazy old man thought dead, but reportedly now more powerful than Arabian David Caruso can possibly imagine
Captured, let off on brilliantly played "Enchanter Technicality" defense, now at large
Evaded capture, last seen heading to Gray Havens. (Gwendolyn Brophy found nearby, crying.)
This guy and I could be friends
This quote, from a related article, was amusing to me:
"When asked about the inevitable "Grizzly Man" comparisons, Anderson is quick to point out differences between himself and the ill-fated Timothy Treadwell. "We are two men with the same passion," he told National Geographic. "But we practice that passion in a very different way. Wild bears are not particularly fond of humans, and for good reason. So imposing myself upon wild bears seems, to me, very foolish."
More importantly, I've longed to discover a piece of evidence to finally convince Gwendolyn just how realistic my dream of a bear-based home security system (four bears, two outside, one upstairs, one downstairs, on rotating shifts) actually is. Looks like I can finally rest my case.
Behold the Power of Unfettered Ignorance Seeking Attention
I'm pretty sure that if you sat down and really tried your hardest to come up with a group more antagonistic to just about everybody in the country, you still couldn't beat the Westboro Baptist Church group, which of course infamously protests at service members' funerals claiming they "deserved" to die because God hates homosexuals.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Westboro_Baptist_Church
Strong work fundamentalists, nice work on helping society along with your message.
In related news, I'm pretty sure this poor Marine's father must be pulling his hair out on a nightly basis.
http://www.cnn.com/2010/CRIME/03/30/westboro.baptist.snyder/index.html?hpt=Sbin
Can you imagine having an actual conversation with one of these Westboro folk'll that didn't involve you awkwardly backing away wide eyed and horrified?
Coming in a distant second is that awesome Michigan militia group, the one that decided that killing a single cop followed by killing a bunch of cops at the subsequent funeral might be a good idea to springboard their movement against the entire Federal Government.
http://www.cnn.com/2010/CRIME/03/31/michigan.militia.hutaree/index.html?iref=allsearch
Why do I feel like their basement meetings talking about their ideology played out like a creepy SNL sketch?
Here is that group's leader:
Why do I also feel like there is a barista at some Michigan Starbucks that has known this guy was crazy for months?
(To a manager) "Dude, that guy came in again today. He ain't right...."
I just know that happened.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Westboro_Baptist_Church
Strong work fundamentalists, nice work on helping society along with your message.
In related news, I'm pretty sure this poor Marine's father must be pulling his hair out on a nightly basis.
http://www.cnn.com/2010/CRIME/03/30/westboro.baptist.snyder/index.html?hpt=Sbin
Can you imagine having an actual conversation with one of these Westboro folk'll that didn't involve you awkwardly backing away wide eyed and horrified?
Coming in a distant second is that awesome Michigan militia group, the one that decided that killing a single cop followed by killing a bunch of cops at the subsequent funeral might be a good idea to springboard their movement against the entire Federal Government.
http://www.cnn.com/2010/CRIME/03/31/michigan.militia.hutaree/index.html?iref=allsearch
Why do I feel like their basement meetings talking about their ideology played out like a creepy SNL sketch?
Here is that group's leader:
Why do I also feel like there is a barista at some Michigan Starbucks that has known this guy was crazy for months?
(To a manager) "Dude, that guy came in again today. He ain't right...."
I just know that happened.
Michael Doesn't Blog Here Anymore
I've been staring at this blog for a few weeks now trying to think of a way to dive back in. Not really knowing where to start, I decided to give myself ten good minutes and just type what comes to mind in the hopes of jump starting this thing. We'll see how it goes.
A lot has happened since my last post. A LOT. THAT post was written from the other side of the pond, in my now distant apartment in Kaiserslautern, Germany. THIS post comes to you live from Carlsbad, California. THAT post was written by a soldier. THIS post is being written by a civilian (though still a government worker - only more "DMV" than "Be all you can be".) THAT post, was written by a man about to undergo a lot of transition. THIS post is being written by a man who is living large in routine city. THAT post was written by a man who loved bears. THIS post, well, actually same thing. Bears rule.
And there it is. A lot has changed. A LOT. I'm not going to try and cover it in one fell swoop. Who says I have to? I don't. And I won't. (That's probably what has kept me away for so long - the thinking that I should.) But I will put a few words to the page again, just to get started. And see where things go from there. Hopefully just getting going will make it easier to type the next post, and the next and so on. We shall see.
And there it is - ten minutes is up. (Sad but true. I don't type slow, but I think, write, proofread, and edit slow when it comes to posting here.)
Stick around, maybe I'll surprise you.
(Does anyone still read this thing? I suppose the comments will be the judge of that.)
This guy still knows how to party! (After a Vegas Bachelor Party Summer 2010)
A lot has happened since my last post. A LOT. THAT post was written from the other side of the pond, in my now distant apartment in Kaiserslautern, Germany. THIS post comes to you live from Carlsbad, California. THAT post was written by a soldier. THIS post is being written by a civilian (though still a government worker - only more "DMV" than "Be all you can be".) THAT post, was written by a man about to undergo a lot of transition. THIS post is being written by a man who is living large in routine city. THAT post was written by a man who loved bears. THIS post, well, actually same thing. Bears rule.
And there it is. A lot has changed. A LOT. I'm not going to try and cover it in one fell swoop. Who says I have to? I don't. And I won't. (That's probably what has kept me away for so long - the thinking that I should.) But I will put a few words to the page again, just to get started. And see where things go from there. Hopefully just getting going will make it easier to type the next post, and the next and so on. We shall see.
And there it is - ten minutes is up. (Sad but true. I don't type slow, but I think, write, proofread, and edit slow when it comes to posting here.)
Stick around, maybe I'll surprise you.
(Does anyone still read this thing? I suppose the comments will be the judge of that.)
This guy still knows how to party! (After a Vegas Bachelor Party Summer 2010)
Life in Flux
Today is my last day in Europe for the foreseeable future.
My things are gone, moved last Monday. As I watched the large truck filled with my possessions drive away, I thought there is something quite unsettling about witnessing such a thing. Makes the ground seem unsteady beneath your feet. In the end though, I suppose all I really care about are the pictures. Just about everything else is replaceable.
Man Room the First (as I now call it) is no more. In the last few weeks before I had to put Man Room the First down, I spent a lot of time there, watching movies, playing video games, and remembering the good times like how I witnessed my Giants upset the mighty Patriots two seasons ago with me jumping around like a loon the entire second half. Yup, I spent a lot of time there those last few weeks, kind of like how you might spend extra time with a dying pet remembering all the good days before the inevitable end. The good news is that though Man Room the First is now gone (destroyed, by the Empire), it will be reborn in a manner of speaking in the near future. The first body is gone, but the soul remains, and a second body will come to take its place. And when that happens, Man Room, like a phoenix, will return from the ashes once more to provide high-octane entertainment.
I was also handed papers this past Thursday (June 18th) stating I was honorably discharged from the United States Army. Technically I'm still on active duty until 30 June, but I'm in all reasonable respects completely finished. I took my uniform off for (hopefully) the last time that Thursday evening. Several beers followed. On Friday I mailed the uniform on ahead to San Diego. I'll pull it out of the closet someday, just to look at it and remember.
I've had a lot of thoughts in my head the past week as I try to make sense of my time in the Army. I used to hate that I joined, used to regret it pretty heavily in fact, but that's changed. I've made my peace. The Army is not for me, at least not long term, but I'm happy to say that I've served, even if I joined up not out of a sense of patriotic duty, but just to pay for school way back in 1998. I'm certainly glad to be done, but I must say I do look back with something resembling pride. There are things I'll never miss, like filling out 30 pieces of paper to go away for the weekend only to have that leave "denied" by a 22 year old because of a clerical error, and the like. But there's a flip-side to that coin, too. I'll never forget flying over Baghdad skies in a winding Blackhawk worrying about rockets or feeling the hot sand pound my face right before boarding that Chinook to go on R&R leave back in the summer of 2006, or how I felt when I landed on US soil for that same leave and what it meant to me on that day. Nor will I ever forget the soldiers I knew that died in our battalion, or standing hot, tired, and beleaguered at their memorial services listening to the "Taps" melody play while guns were fired into the air and just trying to keep it together. These are the things I think about now every time I hear the national anthem at a sporting event, or anywhere else. So I would be lying if I said my time in service didn't give me a small sense of pride.
A part of me will miss Europe, too. I must say it's been pretty awesome to be able to live here and experience this place the last several years. I'll certainly miss the superior driving (and driving rules) of the Germans. And I'll miss the superior German beer, the travel options, and the overall scenery. But I think a bigger part of me is ready to go back to The States. As neat as this place in some regards, I would always be an outsider here and I'm not sure I could ever call it home.
And so a new chapter is about to begin. A new beginning in an old town - San Diego, California. I still remember 11 years ago making the difficulty decision to actively NOT apply to California Medical Schools so that I could see and experience something else, be somewhere else. Go out and see the world or whatever. Well, thanks to that decision and the Army, of all things, I think I've done that. And now frankly, from my perspective, it's time to head home.
Lord of the Funboys no more, just Discostup, a ordinary civilian citizen, looking forward to the next phase.
See you all on the other side of the pond.
My things are gone, moved last Monday. As I watched the large truck filled with my possessions drive away, I thought there is something quite unsettling about witnessing such a thing. Makes the ground seem unsteady beneath your feet. In the end though, I suppose all I really care about are the pictures. Just about everything else is replaceable.
Man Room the First (as I now call it) is no more. In the last few weeks before I had to put Man Room the First down, I spent a lot of time there, watching movies, playing video games, and remembering the good times like how I witnessed my Giants upset the mighty Patriots two seasons ago with me jumping around like a loon the entire second half. Yup, I spent a lot of time there those last few weeks, kind of like how you might spend extra time with a dying pet remembering all the good days before the inevitable end. The good news is that though Man Room the First is now gone (destroyed, by the Empire), it will be reborn in a manner of speaking in the near future. The first body is gone, but the soul remains, and a second body will come to take its place. And when that happens, Man Room, like a phoenix, will return from the ashes once more to provide high-octane entertainment.
I was also handed papers this past Thursday (June 18th) stating I was honorably discharged from the United States Army. Technically I'm still on active duty until 30 June, but I'm in all reasonable respects completely finished. I took my uniform off for (hopefully) the last time that Thursday evening. Several beers followed. On Friday I mailed the uniform on ahead to San Diego. I'll pull it out of the closet someday, just to look at it and remember.
I've had a lot of thoughts in my head the past week as I try to make sense of my time in the Army. I used to hate that I joined, used to regret it pretty heavily in fact, but that's changed. I've made my peace. The Army is not for me, at least not long term, but I'm happy to say that I've served, even if I joined up not out of a sense of patriotic duty, but just to pay for school way back in 1998. I'm certainly glad to be done, but I must say I do look back with something resembling pride. There are things I'll never miss, like filling out 30 pieces of paper to go away for the weekend only to have that leave "denied" by a 22 year old because of a clerical error, and the like. But there's a flip-side to that coin, too. I'll never forget flying over Baghdad skies in a winding Blackhawk worrying about rockets or feeling the hot sand pound my face right before boarding that Chinook to go on R&R leave back in the summer of 2006, or how I felt when I landed on US soil for that same leave and what it meant to me on that day. Nor will I ever forget the soldiers I knew that died in our battalion, or standing hot, tired, and beleaguered at their memorial services listening to the "Taps" melody play while guns were fired into the air and just trying to keep it together. These are the things I think about now every time I hear the national anthem at a sporting event, or anywhere else. So I would be lying if I said my time in service didn't give me a small sense of pride.
A part of me will miss Europe, too. I must say it's been pretty awesome to be able to live here and experience this place the last several years. I'll certainly miss the superior driving (and driving rules) of the Germans. And I'll miss the superior German beer, the travel options, and the overall scenery. But I think a bigger part of me is ready to go back to The States. As neat as this place in some regards, I would always be an outsider here and I'm not sure I could ever call it home.
And so a new chapter is about to begin. A new beginning in an old town - San Diego, California. I still remember 11 years ago making the difficulty decision to actively NOT apply to California Medical Schools so that I could see and experience something else, be somewhere else. Go out and see the world or whatever. Well, thanks to that decision and the Army, of all things, I think I've done that. And now frankly, from my perspective, it's time to head home.
Lord of the Funboys no more, just Discostup, a ordinary civilian citizen, looking forward to the next phase.
See you all on the other side of the pond.
To the left lane of the German Autobahn - I Salute you
I said goodbye to my car today. Yup, had to sell off the old 1995 BMW 740i. It has European specs, so I couldn't take it back with me even if I wanted to.
But really, I didn't. You see, I loved that car. But taking that car, a super-charged V8-laden highway monster like that off of the Autobahn where it can run free like it was born to and into the traffic-laden clogged streets of Southern California? That would have been cruel, like taking King Kong out of his lost jungle island home and transporting him to Manhattan. It just wouldn't work. And though my car probably wouldn't try to climb the highest building and swat at buzzing helicopters, it would be equally sad on the inside.
So I said goodbye. Sold it to an Army Captain who had just come back from a 15-month deployment to Iraq. He lives, ironically enough, in Baumholder. So my last drive in the car was back to "The Rock", the land of my deployment unit. A fitting trip down memory lane as my time in Europe AND the Army draws to a close.
I'll miss that car. And I'll miss driving on the autobahn over here - make no mistake. Germans are better highway drivers than Americans because they have a very common sense approach. Go as fast as you're comfortable with, and stay the hell out of the left lane unless you're the fastest car in sight. It's that simple. And it works.
"Go on girl, and don't look back"
But really, I didn't. You see, I loved that car. But taking that car, a super-charged V8-laden highway monster like that off of the Autobahn where it can run free like it was born to and into the traffic-laden clogged streets of Southern California? That would have been cruel, like taking King Kong out of his lost jungle island home and transporting him to Manhattan. It just wouldn't work. And though my car probably wouldn't try to climb the highest building and swat at buzzing helicopters, it would be equally sad on the inside.
So I said goodbye. Sold it to an Army Captain who had just come back from a 15-month deployment to Iraq. He lives, ironically enough, in Baumholder. So my last drive in the car was back to "The Rock", the land of my deployment unit. A fitting trip down memory lane as my time in Europe AND the Army draws to a close.
I'll miss that car. And I'll miss driving on the autobahn over here - make no mistake. Germans are better highway drivers than Americans because they have a very common sense approach. Go as fast as you're comfortable with, and stay the hell out of the left lane unless you're the fastest car in sight. It's that simple. And it works.
"Go on girl, and don't look back"
Celebrity Guests at Landstuhl
From CNN:
"Later Friday, the president traveled in Germany to Ramstein Air Base and visited with wounded American troops at Landstuhl Regional Medical Center."
This was yesterday. Unfortunately security was ridiculous and I wasn't on call. (Did I just say that it was unfortunate I wasn't on call?). I didn't get to see a thing regarding Obama.
But a few weeks earlier, I did get to see Anna Kournikova as she toured the hospital...
One thing is clear - she wants me
One of our pharmacists was kind enough to take the picture. My ID badge is turned around on purpose - standard security precautions for photos I was told. Come to think of it, isn't Kournikova Russian?!? Maybe she was a spy, and perhaps that's why she's not returning my calls...
"Later Friday, the president traveled in Germany to Ramstein Air Base and visited with wounded American troops at Landstuhl Regional Medical Center."
This was yesterday. Unfortunately security was ridiculous and I wasn't on call. (Did I just say that it was unfortunate I wasn't on call?). I didn't get to see a thing regarding Obama.
But a few weeks earlier, I did get to see Anna Kournikova as she toured the hospital...
One thing is clear - she wants me
One of our pharmacists was kind enough to take the picture. My ID badge is turned around on purpose - standard security precautions for photos I was told. Come to think of it, isn't Kournikova Russian?!? Maybe she was a spy, and perhaps that's why she's not returning my calls...
Rockin' Fool
I've been playing a lot of Rock Band and Guitar Hero World Tour lately.
About a month or so ago after we got back from San Diego, Gwen and I bought Guitar Hero World Tour for the PS3 because we knew it came with a "good" guitar. I say "good" as opposed to Rock Band's standard "awful" guitar, which comes complete with a mushy strum bar from hell and non-clacking fret keys that manage to instantly drop talent levels from a nice mix of expert and hard on Guitar Hero to a mediocre mix of mostly medium and occasional hard on Rock Band - at least for Gwen and I this is the case. (Somehow Eryn and Adam have gotten around this problem - I smell a soul selling...)
(While Gwen and I were in San Diego in February Eryn was borrowing a Guitar Hero World Tour guitar that Gwen and I found was much closer to the original Guitar Hero guitars which we used to shred on back in the PS2 days. Suddenly playing guitar became fun again - an experience we had yet to have in Rock Band. )
At first we only wanted the guitar itself for use with the Rock Band game, but there was no way, at the local Air Force Power Zone (eat your heart out Best Buy), to buy a lone guitar without purchasing the entire Guitar Hero World Tour game (which comes complete with game, drums, guitar, and mic). Wanting desperately to actually enjoy guitar on our very own Rock Band game, and interested in the song list for GHWT, we decided to make the purchase of the entire GHWT game.
Despite the added cost, and though we only really wanted the guitar, we were pleasantly surprised at how neat Guitar Hero World Tour also was. The song list is good, not better or worse than Rock Band, just different, it's basically just another song list. Some of the styling in the game is clearly different, but not too much. There are few other odds and ends which separate GHWT from Rock Band, but generally the game is very much the same. That said, there is one major difference - the drum kit.
Whereas Rock Band has only four pads and a foot pedal, Guitar Hero World Tour comes with FIVE pads and a drum pedal. Also, the alignment is such that two of the five drum pads sit higher in the kit representing cymbals (see pics).
Rock Band Drums
Guitar Hero World Tour Drums
Because of this, and for obvious reasons, drumming in GHWT is harder than in Rock Band. When I purchased the game, and because of our recent San Diego trip and extensive access to Eryn's system, I was starting to flirt with the "hard" setting on drums in Rock Band. This didn't translate so well on Guitar Hero World Tour, as the five pads and their locations on the screen threw me for a loop at first. Slowly, though I started to figure it out, and I must say it's probably a little bit "cooler" (relative term here) to play a 5-pad kit with varying heights as opposed to simple 4-pad kit. It feels more "real". I'm basing this, of course, on years of real drumming experience.
The other HUGE reason to buy GHWT back at that time was that I knew in only a short while a certain game called "Guitar Hero: Metallica" was coming out, and it was exclusively for GHWT, not Rock Band.
Given my recent love of Metallica's new album Death Magnetic (which I purcahsed in the fall and have not gotten sick of yet - I honestly listen to that thing, in full, at least twice a week, and often much more - it's the best album I've heard in a long time), and the fact that Metallica's first four major albums remain insanely good, and the fact that I thought their power cord type of music would play perfectly into the rhythm game genre, I knew that GH: Metallica was a game I needed to have.
Turned out I was right.
Two weekends ago, I was on call through the weekend, working the days but having the nights off. Gwen was off in England visiting her aunt. On Friday after work I drove by the old Power Zone (again, Best Buy eat your heart out) and there it was: Guitar Hero: Metallica. Purchasing it with all the zeal of a 9-year old me spying a new GI Joe figure on the shelves at Toys R' Us circa 1984, I drove home (on the autobahn, listening to Metallica) and before I knew it was in Man Room banging my head and drumming my ass off to Master of Puppets, Whiplash, and the rest.
With Gwen gone, Friday, Saturday and Sunday of that weekend went down the same. Work, home, Man Room, Guitar Hero: Metallica. I was putting in 3-4 hours a night on that kit.
I will say that to start I simply had to go down to the Medium setting for most of the Metallica songs at first. There was no shame. They're simply too drum heavy, too bass pedal heavy. I was having more fun on medium, getting my feet, learing the songs. Finally I started to do some of them on hard. And there were some great moments in there, banging my head to "MAS-TER!" "MAS-TER!" while the song blared on. It was really fun. The most fun I've had with a rhythm game in quite some time. Plus, of course, there was All Nightmare Long from my beloved Death Magnetic. An 8 minute endurance masterpiece on the drums.
When Monday came around the work week resumed and all was forgotten until this weekend, when Gwen and I went over to Man Room and I showed her GH: Metallica. Her love of Metallica is not as strong as mine, of course, but I think she still had fun checking the game out (plus it's not ALL Metallica songs). Unfortunately though, near the end of a another "killer sesh", the red pad on my GH drum kit stopped working. It just stopped out of nowhere (and made me fail Master of Puppets in the process). Which is funny, because it's by far the least used in the entire game. I have no idea why it stopped working. Several experiments to check it out and potentially fix the thing yielded no results, and now I'm left with no choice but to send the kit back and await a replacement, which'll take a few weeks.
Once the GHWT Drum Kit went down, we went back to Rock Band. Only something cool had happened. All my GH: Metallica drumming over the previous weekend had vaulted me comfortably into "Hard" drumming on Rock Band. Only four pads on regular, non-Metallica rock songs? You're joking right? Anyway, I'm certainly not perfect at hard, not even close, but I'm very comfortable with just about any song on hard now, though I haven't unlocked Painkiller or anything deep on the lists yet to really test myself. But I did Everlong pretty smartly which rates "5 stars" on drum difficulty. Not too shabby.
And most importantly, I'm enjoying rhythm games again. The bitter taste of the Rock Band Guitar has been washed away by the superior GHWT guitar. Though this applies to Gwen more than I, because she has been playing a lot more guitar. And I have my drums, where I feel I've definitely made a leap (not unlike going from medium to hard on guitar way back in the GH days on PS2). And together we've spent some quality time at Man Room rocking out, unlocking songs, and actually having a good time with Rock Band AND Guitar Hero World Tour.
And I owe it all to Metallica.
MAS-TER!
About a month or so ago after we got back from San Diego, Gwen and I bought Guitar Hero World Tour for the PS3 because we knew it came with a "good" guitar. I say "good" as opposed to Rock Band's standard "awful" guitar, which comes complete with a mushy strum bar from hell and non-clacking fret keys that manage to instantly drop talent levels from a nice mix of expert and hard on Guitar Hero to a mediocre mix of mostly medium and occasional hard on Rock Band - at least for Gwen and I this is the case. (Somehow Eryn and Adam have gotten around this problem - I smell a soul selling...)
(While Gwen and I were in San Diego in February Eryn was borrowing a Guitar Hero World Tour guitar that Gwen and I found was much closer to the original Guitar Hero guitars which we used to shred on back in the PS2 days. Suddenly playing guitar became fun again - an experience we had yet to have in Rock Band. )
At first we only wanted the guitar itself for use with the Rock Band game, but there was no way, at the local Air Force Power Zone (eat your heart out Best Buy), to buy a lone guitar without purchasing the entire Guitar Hero World Tour game (which comes complete with game, drums, guitar, and mic). Wanting desperately to actually enjoy guitar on our very own Rock Band game, and interested in the song list for GHWT, we decided to make the purchase of the entire GHWT game.
Despite the added cost, and though we only really wanted the guitar, we were pleasantly surprised at how neat Guitar Hero World Tour also was. The song list is good, not better or worse than Rock Band, just different, it's basically just another song list. Some of the styling in the game is clearly different, but not too much. There are few other odds and ends which separate GHWT from Rock Band, but generally the game is very much the same. That said, there is one major difference - the drum kit.
Whereas Rock Band has only four pads and a foot pedal, Guitar Hero World Tour comes with FIVE pads and a drum pedal. Also, the alignment is such that two of the five drum pads sit higher in the kit representing cymbals (see pics).
Rock Band Drums
Guitar Hero World Tour Drums
Because of this, and for obvious reasons, drumming in GHWT is harder than in Rock Band. When I purchased the game, and because of our recent San Diego trip and extensive access to Eryn's system, I was starting to flirt with the "hard" setting on drums in Rock Band. This didn't translate so well on Guitar Hero World Tour, as the five pads and their locations on the screen threw me for a loop at first. Slowly, though I started to figure it out, and I must say it's probably a little bit "cooler" (relative term here) to play a 5-pad kit with varying heights as opposed to simple 4-pad kit. It feels more "real". I'm basing this, of course, on years of real drumming experience.
The other HUGE reason to buy GHWT back at that time was that I knew in only a short while a certain game called "Guitar Hero: Metallica" was coming out, and it was exclusively for GHWT, not Rock Band.
Given my recent love of Metallica's new album Death Magnetic (which I purcahsed in the fall and have not gotten sick of yet - I honestly listen to that thing, in full, at least twice a week, and often much more - it's the best album I've heard in a long time), and the fact that Metallica's first four major albums remain insanely good, and the fact that I thought their power cord type of music would play perfectly into the rhythm game genre, I knew that GH: Metallica was a game I needed to have.
Turned out I was right.
Two weekends ago, I was on call through the weekend, working the days but having the nights off. Gwen was off in England visiting her aunt. On Friday after work I drove by the old Power Zone (again, Best Buy eat your heart out) and there it was: Guitar Hero: Metallica. Purchasing it with all the zeal of a 9-year old me spying a new GI Joe figure on the shelves at Toys R' Us circa 1984, I drove home (on the autobahn, listening to Metallica) and before I knew it was in Man Room banging my head and drumming my ass off to Master of Puppets, Whiplash, and the rest.
With Gwen gone, Friday, Saturday and Sunday of that weekend went down the same. Work, home, Man Room, Guitar Hero: Metallica. I was putting in 3-4 hours a night on that kit.
I will say that to start I simply had to go down to the Medium setting for most of the Metallica songs at first. There was no shame. They're simply too drum heavy, too bass pedal heavy. I was having more fun on medium, getting my feet, learing the songs. Finally I started to do some of them on hard. And there were some great moments in there, banging my head to "MAS-TER!" "MAS-TER!" while the song blared on. It was really fun. The most fun I've had with a rhythm game in quite some time. Plus, of course, there was All Nightmare Long from my beloved Death Magnetic. An 8 minute endurance masterpiece on the drums.
When Monday came around the work week resumed and all was forgotten until this weekend, when Gwen and I went over to Man Room and I showed her GH: Metallica. Her love of Metallica is not as strong as mine, of course, but I think she still had fun checking the game out (plus it's not ALL Metallica songs). Unfortunately though, near the end of a another "killer sesh", the red pad on my GH drum kit stopped working. It just stopped out of nowhere (and made me fail Master of Puppets in the process). Which is funny, because it's by far the least used in the entire game. I have no idea why it stopped working. Several experiments to check it out and potentially fix the thing yielded no results, and now I'm left with no choice but to send the kit back and await a replacement, which'll take a few weeks.
Once the GHWT Drum Kit went down, we went back to Rock Band. Only something cool had happened. All my GH: Metallica drumming over the previous weekend had vaulted me comfortably into "Hard" drumming on Rock Band. Only four pads on regular, non-Metallica rock songs? You're joking right? Anyway, I'm certainly not perfect at hard, not even close, but I'm very comfortable with just about any song on hard now, though I haven't unlocked Painkiller or anything deep on the lists yet to really test myself. But I did Everlong pretty smartly which rates "5 stars" on drum difficulty. Not too shabby.
And most importantly, I'm enjoying rhythm games again. The bitter taste of the Rock Band Guitar has been washed away by the superior GHWT guitar. Though this applies to Gwen more than I, because she has been playing a lot more guitar. And I have my drums, where I feel I've definitely made a leap (not unlike going from medium to hard on guitar way back in the GH days on PS2). And together we've spent some quality time at Man Room rocking out, unlocking songs, and actually having a good time with Rock Band AND Guitar Hero World Tour.
And I owe it all to Metallica.
MAS-TER!
Last Few Weeks
Time for rapid fire catch-up.
San Diego
Gwen and I spent a week or so in San Diego in late February. I was doing several more job interviews; Gwen was doing some stuff for the hiring process regarding her new job. We were also starting to look around at houses in the area.
Thoughts:
-Interviewing is fun in some ways, but quite laborious. There is a lot of variety out there in terms of jobs and luckily I had several decent offers to pick from. By the end, though, I was starting to forget who I had told what, and which specifics went with which job. The process is tiring, but obviously necessary. I think I interviewed for about ten different positions and with more than twenty-five people when all was said and done. (That's a lot of time forcing good posture and being "serious" - not my strong suits.)
-With Scripps Green Hospital pushing off their hiring process until April because of budget issues, my top two choices became an academic hospitalist position at UCSD versus a Government Service (GS) academic position at Balboa Naval Hospital in San Diego (right next to the world famous zoo). Both seemed great. In the end, both offered me jobs and I went with the Naval Hospital. It boiled down to two things. One is that I already have seven years of service time which can be applied toward a government pension. Two is that I wasn't quite ready for a week on, week off schedule forever, which basically means one spends every other weekend at work. (This includes EVEN the football season. Shocking, I know.)
-So I'll be working with the Navy and I'm already building an arsenal of proper Navy Jokes. Most of them revolve around that Village People song and me clapping, often in a taunting manner. The job itself is about 3/4 clinic, and 1/4 inpatient, nearly all of it "teaching", i.e. with residents. I'm pretty excited about it, especially after slaving, not unlike a resident, at Landstuhl these past four years.
-Regarding housing, there is a ton of stuff on the market, it's all relatively cheaper than the average San Diego market - it's a total buyer's market. And since Gwen and I don't have to sell anything in the same market, it's basically an ideal situation. All that said - San Diego is still way too expensive. But I'll pay - yes I will. I just keep telling myself there is a small "sun tax". I can live with it.
-The rest of the San Diego trip revolved around the usual antics with the San Diego posse. Complex (and not so complex) board games at Eryn's (Best games in order: Wyatt Earp, The Space one that we played until 2 am, Space Alert, and then on down), Rock Band, dinners out, and general hang around time. Always a blast.
-We also had the first annual Iwan versus Adam Mile Race. Not sure how the concept started, but both of them thought they could beat the other in a mile race, or at least were interested to see how it would turn out. Somehow the event took off with a promotion scheme not unlike a heavy weight fight. Going into the race it seemed like no one had any idea who would win. In the end, Iwan won handily, which was attributed to his multiple sessions of weekly soccer as compared to Adam's multiple sessions of weekly Rock Band. But good fun was had, and the race itself is starting to generate ideas of a similar nature - who knows where that could lead. We could be in for an old man decathalon next summer.
Mallory's Visit
Following our return from San Diego my sister came out for her Spring Break from second year of medical school and so she Gwen, and I took a trip to France. The first half was spent snowboarding in Chamonix, and the second half was spent gallivanting about Paris. A good time was had by all.
-I'm going to miss the Alps. I won't miss Euro Herding at the resorts, but I'll miss the natural beauty of the place and the far more open "Off piste" setting of Alpine skiing which allows for more off-trail exploration than in the States. Also the "apres ski" scene in Europe is much better and I've grown to enjoy a tall fat beer in the late afternoon while watching the sun go down over the scenery, followed by a giggily, slightly clumsy last run of the day down to the base.
-I will also miss the restaurant scene in Chamonix, which includes some ridiculously good french food. Once again we made our trip to the Albert Premier restaurant and gorged ourselves on fine cuisine followed by heavy handfuls of bliss from the ubiquitous cheese cart which was followed up by the equally ubiquitous dessert cart.
-We have probably taken our last trip to Paris now, for the foreseeable future I would guess. Great city. I hate to say it (damn Frenchies), but Paris is one awesome town. (Though I could have used a few more "thanks for bailing us out in WWII" comments than I actually received.) I guess I'm not fully decided on how my power rankings of European Cities I've Been To will settle out, but one could safely bet that Paris will be right at the top.
-Always good to see my sis who's in stressed out second year med school mode. How I don't envy those days. Seeing her going through it is just another reminded of how the long the road through medical training really is.
And there it is. Hopefully I'll get some pics up in another post. Things are starting to move pretty fast around here. In just three months I'll be on terminal leave on my way out the Army door. It seems like there is still a ton to do to get properly transitioned, not to mention continue working here and there. If only someone task-oriented were around to help me plan these things...
Lastly, saw Watchmen last night and I really enjoyed it. My take is that if you've read the graphic novel (Joel!) you'll be pretty pleased. If not, good luck getting into it.
And now you're caught up on the essentials.
San Diego
Gwen and I spent a week or so in San Diego in late February. I was doing several more job interviews; Gwen was doing some stuff for the hiring process regarding her new job. We were also starting to look around at houses in the area.
Thoughts:
-Interviewing is fun in some ways, but quite laborious. There is a lot of variety out there in terms of jobs and luckily I had several decent offers to pick from. By the end, though, I was starting to forget who I had told what, and which specifics went with which job. The process is tiring, but obviously necessary. I think I interviewed for about ten different positions and with more than twenty-five people when all was said and done. (That's a lot of time forcing good posture and being "serious" - not my strong suits.)
-With Scripps Green Hospital pushing off their hiring process until April because of budget issues, my top two choices became an academic hospitalist position at UCSD versus a Government Service (GS) academic position at Balboa Naval Hospital in San Diego (right next to the world famous zoo). Both seemed great. In the end, both offered me jobs and I went with the Naval Hospital. It boiled down to two things. One is that I already have seven years of service time which can be applied toward a government pension. Two is that I wasn't quite ready for a week on, week off schedule forever, which basically means one spends every other weekend at work. (This includes EVEN the football season. Shocking, I know.)
-So I'll be working with the Navy and I'm already building an arsenal of proper Navy Jokes. Most of them revolve around that Village People song and me clapping, often in a taunting manner. The job itself is about 3/4 clinic, and 1/4 inpatient, nearly all of it "teaching", i.e. with residents. I'm pretty excited about it, especially after slaving, not unlike a resident, at Landstuhl these past four years.
-Regarding housing, there is a ton of stuff on the market, it's all relatively cheaper than the average San Diego market - it's a total buyer's market. And since Gwen and I don't have to sell anything in the same market, it's basically an ideal situation. All that said - San Diego is still way too expensive. But I'll pay - yes I will. I just keep telling myself there is a small "sun tax". I can live with it.
-The rest of the San Diego trip revolved around the usual antics with the San Diego posse. Complex (and not so complex) board games at Eryn's (Best games in order: Wyatt Earp, The Space one that we played until 2 am, Space Alert, and then on down), Rock Band, dinners out, and general hang around time. Always a blast.
-We also had the first annual Iwan versus Adam Mile Race. Not sure how the concept started, but both of them thought they could beat the other in a mile race, or at least were interested to see how it would turn out. Somehow the event took off with a promotion scheme not unlike a heavy weight fight. Going into the race it seemed like no one had any idea who would win. In the end, Iwan won handily, which was attributed to his multiple sessions of weekly soccer as compared to Adam's multiple sessions of weekly Rock Band. But good fun was had, and the race itself is starting to generate ideas of a similar nature - who knows where that could lead. We could be in for an old man decathalon next summer.
Mallory's Visit
Following our return from San Diego my sister came out for her Spring Break from second year of medical school and so she Gwen, and I took a trip to France. The first half was spent snowboarding in Chamonix, and the second half was spent gallivanting about Paris. A good time was had by all.
-I'm going to miss the Alps. I won't miss Euro Herding at the resorts, but I'll miss the natural beauty of the place and the far more open "Off piste" setting of Alpine skiing which allows for more off-trail exploration than in the States. Also the "apres ski" scene in Europe is much better and I've grown to enjoy a tall fat beer in the late afternoon while watching the sun go down over the scenery, followed by a giggily, slightly clumsy last run of the day down to the base.
-I will also miss the restaurant scene in Chamonix, which includes some ridiculously good french food. Once again we made our trip to the Albert Premier restaurant and gorged ourselves on fine cuisine followed by heavy handfuls of bliss from the ubiquitous cheese cart which was followed up by the equally ubiquitous dessert cart.
-We have probably taken our last trip to Paris now, for the foreseeable future I would guess. Great city. I hate to say it (damn Frenchies), but Paris is one awesome town. (Though I could have used a few more "thanks for bailing us out in WWII" comments than I actually received.) I guess I'm not fully decided on how my power rankings of European Cities I've Been To will settle out, but one could safely bet that Paris will be right at the top.
-Always good to see my sis who's in stressed out second year med school mode. How I don't envy those days. Seeing her going through it is just another reminded of how the long the road through medical training really is.
And there it is. Hopefully I'll get some pics up in another post. Things are starting to move pretty fast around here. In just three months I'll be on terminal leave on my way out the Army door. It seems like there is still a ton to do to get properly transitioned, not to mention continue working here and there. If only someone task-oriented were around to help me plan these things...
Lastly, saw Watchmen last night and I really enjoyed it. My take is that if you've read the graphic novel (Joel!) you'll be pretty pleased. If not, good luck getting into it.
And now you're caught up on the essentials.
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