Happy Birthday...

to my sister, Stephanie. She's not that old, but still two years older than I. She thinks she hasn't accomplished much in her life, but everybody who knows her begs to differ. Love you sis!

Designer Clothing and Idaho

Part of the awesomeness of my job is that I get to dress up each day for work. Dressing up might be a stretch, at least as far as imagining me not looking like a schmuck, but I have to wear button-down shirts and tuck them in, which definitely counts as dressing up in my book.

Lately I've been wondering about the fashion designers who create the looks I wear. The funny thing is, I don't really know who they are. I'm not talking about the Tommy Hilfigers, Hugo Bosses and Calvin Kleins...I'm wondering who David Taylor is, Van Heusen, and Hagar. You never see them on the style channel, never read about them in magazines or hear about their awesome fashion shows in Paris and Milan. But obviously they're real names of people who design clothes, aren't they?

And what's with these ultra-conservative types who rail against homosexuality then get caught in toilet stalls with their pants around their ankles? Jesus isn't going to save those guys.

The Historian and Kids

So I just got finished with a long ass book called The Historian. It's kind of about Dracula. It's about 860 pages about a historian who doesn't believe in Dracula but finds enough clues that the bad dude himself may be alive that he searches for him all over Europe, then maybe 40 pages of action that actually involve Dracula. That is not a good ratio, my friend. That's a lot of buildup, maybe a little too much background history, you might say. How about half the book is about the historian searching for Dracula, then the other half is Dracula beating his ass. Or maybe 1/3 is him not believing in Dracula, then 1/3 is him searching for Dracula, then 1/3 him getting beat down by Dracula. Except for like 1/16th at the very very end where he kills Dracula.

By the way, he does end up killing Dracula at the end. Or so you think...

Lexi can now climb over her baby gates. She just hops right over. Except for the one that's in the doorway of her room. I think she can do it but chooses not to when we're not looking, so she can spring it on us one day like when she learned to climb out of her crib. I expect I'll be getting out of the shower and she'll just be standing in our room, like, "Hey Dad, what's up?".

Tonight I was laying in bed with her for a few minutes and she was telling me what Joey says at Daycare. I couldn't understand her though, it was like, "Joey says fooboomafoo". I said, "Foomoobafoo?" and she said, "No, fooboomafoo". I tried again, "Foomoobafoo?" And she leaned over and pushed my head down onto the pillow and said, "Shut your eyes Daddy". Apparently I only get one try to understand what she's saying.

Bioshock and Tuna Fish

I've been playing a new game that came out this past week, Bioshock. It's gotten a lot of press lately and the first reviews were very positive. I'm normally not a fan of the genre that this game is in, but I played it for a few hours last night and it was really pretty awesome. It's kind of a first person shooter, but there's enough action mixed with puzzle type elements that it makes for a great game.

The graphics are great, especially the water. From the outset of the game, where you've survived a plane crash and you're swimming in the ocean near the downed jet and have to swim towards land, you're immersed in a gorgeous world that just takes over. The whole world they've created just draws you in and is done in such a great style that it kept me playing much longer than I normally would have for this type of game.

Anyway, the tuna fish thing...just found a great recipe the other day for tuna sandwiches without mayo...using lime juice, cilantro and scallions, it was a nice, light summery type of sandwich and hit the spot (though there was too a little too much cilantro).

If green means 25 mph then count me out...

I've never been in a Prius or other hybrid car. I rarely even notice them on the street. But this week I've had three (3 in one week!) encounters with the almighty Prius, all of them being almost exactly the same (only the colors were different).

Encounter one: I'm leaving the parking structure at work, last in a line of about 5 cars. When we get to the bottom I realize the lead car is a Prius going 10 miles an hour. I'm not needing to speed through parking structures, but even after we got out of the garage he continued at the same pace for about three more blocks. Worse yet was his license plate, "Oommpph". That's the sound his car made as he tried to get it into second gear to go the speed limit I guess.

Second encounter: Almost the same as the first, but this time I got from the parking structure to the street, and as soon as I turned onto the street, there was a Prius ahead of me going about 25 miles an hour (speed limit is 35 there). This guy apparently lives near me because I ended up following him nearly a mile, him going under the speed limit the whole time (though I suspect he sped up as soon as I turned onto my street).

Third encounter: Just driving down the street again, this time nowhere near work, and I get stuck behind another Prius owner that drives about 27 mph on a road that's 40. This is typical on this street, because the speed limit sign is hidden behind a tree so people never know that they can go quicker than this, but because this was my third slow Prius encounter in a week, I didn't give that little bastard the benefit of the doubt.

So what's the problem here? Do Prius owners just drive slow, or can the cars themselves not accelerate quickly? I don't really mind a leisurely pace now and again, but this just seemed too bizarre that each time it was a Prius.

Gyro mess

So I tried this great new recipe in Cook's Illustrated for homemade Gyros. At least it looked like a great recipe, until I followed it and it tasted like crap.

This is apparently where my lack of cooking skill tends to show itself most readily -- when I try to cook something.

Lex and I went to the grocery store and found all the ingredients. Lemon, garlic, onion, fresh herbs, ground lamb. All the stuff I wouldn't normally be able to fit in the cart because the Hot Pockets are taking up all the space, but since I was just getting stuff for this one recipe, I had no excuse.

Followed the recipe exactly. I do this to prove that it's not the recipe's fault, it's my own, when things don't turn out.

So I had to make a paste of all the ingredients, then add the paste to the ground lamb. Then form little balls (no jokes please), squish them into patties, and cook them in oil for a few minutes. They formed the requisite hard shell on each side, so with all systems go, I assembled the gyros: Tzatsiki, shredded lettus, Tomatoz and the homemade lamb patties.

Ugh. I had to thank the Mrs. for finishing hers. I ended up eating one and a half, but only because I was so hungry from making them. The patties were soggy in the middle and this totally ruined the gyros. Is it really just too much to ask for a restaurant that makes good gyros so I don't have to try making my own?

And to think that last week I wanted to try making Beef Wellington. Looks like I'm back to beans and weenies. Those I can't screw up.

Never Trust a Hippie

So I got my haircut today. I went to the same place I've been going for about 6 months now. I don't go often, once every 4-6 weeks. Each time I've had somebody different cut it, except for today, it was the same woman that cut it last month.

I thought she looked familiar, but I wasn't totally sure, so I didn't say anything right off. She started asking me how I liked it cut and I told her, but she seemed kind of strange about it. Last time she totally got it and I didn't have to go into as much detail. This is one reason I thought it was a different woman. I told her I wanted the sides shaved, like with clippers, and she said, "You mean bald?". Uh -- no, dumbshit, just short.

Once she started going though I totally knew it was the same person. I knew because she's a total stoner. She was like, "Man, I hate driving, it's like everybody's just got to share the road man." Meanwhile I've got my glasses in my lap so I can't actually see what she's doing to me. Maybe she is shaving me bald and I wouldn't notice. I did notice a lot of gray hair falling away.

She's really nice though, even if she is a hippie. She didn't wash my hair because she was the only one working and there was another guy waiting in line, but she did give me a little neck massage while wiping away the stray hair clippings from my neck, so I gave her a good tip.

I'll be back hippie chick. Hope you remember me next time.

Mail carriers aren't morning people

So I've always wondered who gets their mail in the morning. Only once in my life have I lived in a place where I got my mail before noon, and even then it occasionally arrived at 11.

I've always lumped mailmen in with paper carriers who get up early in the morning to start their deliveries. I don't think they're sorting their own mail, so what's the holdup? Is it proximity to the post office that determines what time you get your delivery? I have to admit, I've never tried living next to the post office so I haven't tested this.

In Seattle we were on the last part of the route, so we didn't get our mail until after 5 pm, sometimes 6 or 7 even. Here in Portland it's about 2.30. I see mail trucks driving around all day, so what's going on here? Are they stopping by the coffee shop to get enough caffeine in them so they can go deliver all the mail between 12 and 5?

And UPS guys aren't any different. I'm waiting on a package right now (which is what go me thinking about this topic). It's noon, and I'm leaving for work in 30 minutes, and I'm sure the package won't be here before I leave. Not that it's a big deal, just strange that I never seem to get early deliveries.

Another mystery of life...

Now we're cooking with gas...

Cooks are in these days, my mom-in-law said today. She's right, we're watching cooking shows left and right. Hell's Kitchen, Top Chef, Rachel Ray (not much but sometimes I watch her). It's enough to make me wish I knew how to cook.

I can follow a recipe for the most part, but to be honest, even if I were to follow it to a T, it never turns out well. Which usually means that I end up winging it. This involves adding more salt and pepper and usually more cheese as well. If it's not a dish that calls for cheese then I might just add a little cheese, and if it has cheese in the recipe then I might just add a variety of cheeses to give it more cheesy goodness.

Now, I've had a couple successes in my life. In fact I had two in one week last month, I can't even remember what it was, but probably had something to do with pork chops and cheese. I find pork chops difficult to mess up. I think I made home-made mashed potatoes and some kind of green vegetable as well. Or maybe it was squash. Funny enough, being a picky eater as I am, I like a lot of vegetables that turn most people off.

One of my problems is that I love to drink when I'm cooking. I find cooking to be kind of like gambling in that I never know whether it's going to turn out well or not, so if I drink while cooking, then 1) I have an excuse for why it turned out poorly, and 2) the food is going to taste better if I'm a bit tipsy.

I just have to remember not to grate the cheese when I'm drunk. That always leads to trouble.

Movies

Now that I'm getting over being sick I'm going to post more. That was my Sick Time Resolution.

We watched 'Running With Scissors' last night. It made me sick it was so bad. I was puking and crapping my pants with righteous indignation for having wasted time of my life watching it. Don't watch it if you don't want to puke and/or crap your pants. It's a shame as I remember slightly the book being decent.

Tonight I watched Munich on HBO. I watched 2/3 of it at least, because I didn't realize it's a 3 hour movie. probably could've easily been boiled down to 2 hours, but the 2/3 of it I watched were pretty good and did not make me any sicker. In fact they probably helped dispel my sickness of the night before, because at this moment I'm feeling a little better now.

Sick Goals

Why is it that whenever I get sick I feel like it's time to renew my New Years Resolutions? It's like, I'm lying in bed, feeling horrible for whatever reason. Maybe the spicy chicken wings made me puke, maybe I got the stomach flu from the kids, whatever...but my mind automatically starts thinking, "If I weren't feeling so bad I'd be getting a lot of stuff done right now".

Which is absolute crap, I know, because if I weren't feeling so bad I'd probably be lying in bed, wishing I were sick so I could stay home.

Happy Father's Day

Happy Father's Day to my own father and all other fathers out there.

My own fathers day started last night with Lexi throwing up in her bed. We cleaned it up and let her sleep in our room, and she's probably thrown up about 10-15 times since then.

It's really horrible to have to watch her do that over and over again. Though now she seems to be pretty good at it and isn't surprised when it happens. And we got her a big red bowl to use, which she seems to like. Maybe I should paint a bulls-eye on the bottom of the bowl.

Ow, My Balls!

So there's this Japanese game show called Ninja Warrior that Mandy and I have been into a bit the past few weeks. In one segment, the contestants have to straddle a giant log and roll down a track while astride this log. One day we were watching it and I might've said something along the lines of, "Ow, my balls!".

A couple days later I flipped across the show again, and Lexi exclaimed, "Ow, my balls!". I think she thinks it's the name of the show. Though she kind of seems to know what it means because at daycare she kept spreading her doll's legs apart and slamming it to the floor and yelling, "Ow, my balls!".

We're really going to have to start watching our language one of these days.

Phone Spam

I hate answering the phone. But I hate marketers even worse, so I inevitably pick up the phone even when it says Unknown Caller. In fact, I usually only pick up the phone when it's an unknown caller. I'm an all-day sucker.

Lately it's been for some guy named Phillip Anderson. It doesn't matter that I tell them they have the wrong number, they just hang up and try back later. I swear the next time they ask for him I'm going to pretend I'm him and see what happens. I'm guessing they're bill collectors. I'm gonna tell them the check's in the mail and see if they believe me. I'll even describe the check, tell them what color it was, what kind of pen I used to fill it out, and tell them I put the stamp on upside down, because that means I love you. I wish Phillip Anderson would pay his goddam bills on time or at least update his phone number so I don't have to take care of his problems.

The last phone call I got was the local newspaper. I subscribe to the Sunday paper so I can look at all the pretty ads for the local stores. Most the time we don't even get around to reading the actual paper itself, we just like to check out the specials at Target and what have you. Ever few months though I get a call and they tell me they're going to give me the rest of the week's papers for free, for a year. One year of free daily newspapers just by paying 2 bucks a week for the Sunday paper. I'd say they're a bunch of idiots, but I really think they're a bunch of dimwitted fuckers. Because every time they call I tell them thank you for your offer but I don't even read the one paper each week that I currently get.

Last time they called I warned them of how serious I was. I told them I was thinking of unsubscribing even to my Sunday paper because their phone calls were getting annoying. I told them if I got another telephone call I would cancel my Sunday paper. It was quiet for awhile while they respected my wishes, but I guess they got bored and decided to invade my privacy again.

And the worst ones are the firefighter and police associations. I've been suckered into giving to these a few times. Usually just 5 bucks so they could take some kids to the Shriner's circus. What kid really wants to go to the Shriner's circus anyway? Most kids want to hang out behind the mall and smoke cigarettes with their friends. Next time I feel like donating on the phone I'm going to drive to the mall and search out some poor looking kids and give them 5 bucks. That should make both of our days.

Ow, my eye!

For the past year or so I've been troubled with an affliction involving my eye. I'll be sleeping and wake up suddenly in the middle of the night when my eye feels like someone's stabbing it with a burning poker.

I went to a doctor about it and he said it's called Corneal Erosion. This means that the top layer of my cornea sticks to my eyelid, and when I wake up, it rips that top layer like a flap of skin off my eye. It hurts for hours until that flap re-attaches itself to the eyeball.

Sounds nasty, doesn't it?

Well it is. I usually find myself doubled over in pain with my fist or an ice pack compressed into my eye socket to try to relieve the pain. I mention it because it happened again yesterday. I actually tried to go to work, I dropped the kids off and went in for a couple hours, but I'm pretty well useless (and shouldn't have been driving anyway), so I came home and went to bed.

Normally my head starts hurting and my vision in that eye is blurred, but it's always been better the next day. But today it's still blurry and even though my headache is gone, it always comes back after a few hours of this blurred vision.

I'm going to see a specialist this afternoon to find out if there's anything to be done to fix it.

Hot Pockets

I admit I have been eating Hot Pockets for many, many years now. This guy is hilariously right-on about the truth behind them.

By the way, if you get a chance to check out the Chicken Bakes from Costco, I heartily recommend them, they're wonderful.

What the heck is going on here?

Jesus loves me

To: Macsmith230

From: Jesus

Subject: Re

I got an email today from Jesus. I didn't read it since it was in my spam box, but it looks like he finally got around to answering me.

The problem is, I've forgotten what I wrote him about in the first place. I could have been e-viting him to my birthday party, or maybe it was forwarding the message about saving the children. In any case, it was nice of him to write back.

Best Job

Ok, may as well tell about my favorite job ever. I spent a summer working for Washington State University's Tree fruit research center in my hometown. It was totally awesome. Spent most the summer outside, often driving around in government cars with their bad paint jobs and am radios. I actually listened to a lot of Rush Limbaugh because I've never liked listening to Top 40 radio.

The worst job we did that summer was to spray the fruit trees with chemicals to test them out and see how effective they were at killing the pests. At first this wasn't so bad, because I just drove the truck slowly down the row of trees while someone else had to trail along spraying the trees. Then they got smart and taught me how to do the spraying. It's not that spraying was so bad, it's that you had to wear a jumpsuit (not the bad part) and big rubber boots and a big, floppy rubber hat and big ol' rubber gloves and a respirator, and it was usually 110 degrees out, while the driver got to sit up front in the air conditioned cab and listen to cds. I'm not sure why the spray truck got air conditioning and a cd player, but we didn't take it for granted.

It was mainly a group of college kids working there, so we sat around a lot and shot the shit while doing menial labor. One of the most boring jobs was to take a box of leaves we'd plucked from the test trees and run them through a little machine that had two brushes on it, which would brush off any tree pests onto a microscope slide, which we'd then count under a magnifying glass to see how many had survived the sprays.

Another job I had to do was to go into a test orchard and pluck little worms from the leaves there. These worms would get in the middle of a leaf and wrap the leaf around them, so I had to unwrap the leaf and put the worm into a container. I had to collect 200 of them so it took me several days to accomplish this task. Once I had my 200, I had to put each one in a little plastic cup with a lid and a few fresh leaves for them to eat. Over the summer we would do tests on these worms, so I had to make sure they had fresh leaves and then I'd have to clean out their little worm poop from their cups every couple days. These worms had a surprisingly large amount of poop coming out of them. After a few months they turned into moths and we pretty much killed them all with hazardous chemicals.

The very best part of the job was that sometimes I had to go out to the remote orchards to collect samples, so you'd grab a car and drive a couple hours with the windows down and a soda in your lap. Once you got to the orchard you didn't even have to leave the car. You'd just drive down the rows and pluck some leaves from the trees as you drove past. This was totally awesome and I'm not sure now why I didn't stick with this job.

Once we were done with all our tests and had our data compiled, the supervising bosses would write up their results and publish them so that the orchardists knew which sprays to put on their crops to kill the invasive pests. I know it's a long ways from the organic food which is getting to be popular these days, but I sure did love that job.

My worst job

I had one job that I worked for just one day because it was so horrible.

I was in college and my uncle offered to get me a job through a friend working for RPS, a delivery company similar to UPS. I was going to school at BYU and the job was in Salt Lake City, 45 minutes away. Somehow I thought that wouldn't pose a problem. The worst part about it was that the hours were from midnight to 7 am. Since I had just learned about No Doz and Mini Thins, I figured I could go to work, come home in time for classes, then sleep in the afternoon and start all over again.

On the night I was supposed to start my new job, there was a blizzard. Maybe not a full blown blizzard, but one of those where you're the only car on the road and the plows haven't come out yet and you're wondering what you're doing outside. I knew what I was doing, I was starting my new job! I left around 10.30 to make sure I'd make the 45 minute drive in time, and I got there just before midnight. I had a quick smoke, then went inside and introduced myself.

The rest of the night was so horrible. Basically they would back a semi truck up to a conveyor belt and unload the packages onto that. Delivery trucks were parked in rows on each side of the belt, and you were supposed to pull the packages that were on your truck's route. Except since I wasn't from there I didn't really know whether a package went on my truck or not, and the big information sheet they had posted near me didn't help much either.

I guess I was being trained, in that they explained to me what to do for 10 minutes then let me go. I had my own truck, and a woman came by every 15 minutes or so to see how I was doing. I was doing terribly. The inside of the truck was divided into six sections, then each section subdivided by 3. Once a section (or subsection) filled up, you weren't supposed to put the next packages in the nearest section, as you'd suppose, instead you were supposed to magically make the packages fit into their correct section that was already too full. Somehow this seemed pretty fucked up, because 5 of the sections were empty and only one section was getting packages and it was overflowing.

Anyway, this job sucked. And next time you're wondering why your package is broken, it's because those little bastards at the warehouse are throwing your shit around from one end to the other.