How to look famous in 5 easy steps

For those of you who don't know, I'm a marketing manager who specializes in graphics and web design. When I'm not blogging here, I'm working on some other website and actually getting paid for it.

The favorite part of my job is doing graphics work. We have 700+ Real Estate agents, and all of them want pictures that make them look like cover models for their business cards, marketing materials, and websites. So I've gotten pretty good at it.

And I thought I would pass some of that knowledge on to you. The first thing in making someone look famous is to find the worst picture you can of them. Preferrably one taken early in the morning before they have showered. I'll use me as an example. Here's one such flattering shot:

Since business cards almost exclusively use "head shots", we need to isolate the area of the picture we want, and then use the cropping tool to cut out the rest of the picture, like this:

Once you have your image cropped to the area you want, oftentimes you will need to adjust the lighting. People look better in brighter light, and furthermore lighter images appear better when printed on glossy paper and business cards so that is how we want to portray ourselves in these images. In this example I am going to up my lighting 50%.

The downside of adjusting the lighting is that you often lose contrast. But don't worry, I'll address that next. However, before we do that we need to lighten or eliminate the background. This way the final product ends up with a white matte behind the image. White mattes work well for most things, and it also makes it easy for us to add our own designer background at a later time. The most rudimentary (I just love the word "rudimentary") way to eliminate the background is to simply grab the white paintbrush from your pallet, widen the brush, and paint away. Below is an example that I haven't finished so you can clearly see what I'm doing. When you do this on your own, you'll need to be a bit more exact with the brush and get as close to the image as possible without painting over it.

From there, we can use move onto the special effects to give our images the final touches we are looking for. We can do lots of things here, including desaturating the image which will remove all color and leave us with a nice greyscale image that would work very well in many circumstances, especially if you only have a black and white printer.

The final steps are to return some contrast to the image. You can do that by upping the contrast slider in the contrast/brightness tool, and then moving on to the filters. Filters are found under the filter menu and allow you to add special effects to your images. One of my favorite filters is under the Stylize sub-menu, and it's called "Chalk and Charcoal." This one works wonders immediately, and when used properly can transform anyone into someone recognizable. Like this:

And that's it! See how easy that was? Try this on your own and let me know how it works out for you. Remember, don't get frustrated if it doesn't come out perfect the first time. I'm a professional with years of experience!

The Arch Rival Game...

The unofficial start of the 2007 College Football season gets underway this weekend with the Arch Rival game when the Illini take on Mizzou. (Go Illini, Oskee Wow Wow!)

But what's hard to take is how both of these teams are perenial losers. First of all, look at their records since 1984, the start of the "modern era" of college football when the NCAA was forced to open up television to national markets. Missouri is 100-157-5 and Illinois is 114-146-5. Sure there are teams with worse records, but both these teams have no excuse for being so bad.

Mizzou is the only Division I school in the entire state of Missouri which includes the two large markets of Kansas City and St. Louis. You'd figure they would figure out how to recruit sooner or later.

But honestly, I couldn't care less about Mizzou or their problems. It's the Illini that causes me to bleed orange and blue. And they have no excuse either.

Illinois is the flagship school in a state of nearly 13 million, including the massive talent hotbed of greater Chicago. We've had the likes of Halas, Grange, Nitschke and Butkus -- four of the most hallowed names in the history of the sport wearing the Illini colors. We've got a statewide fan base that eagerly funded a $120 million stadium expansion, without the legislature or the university proper donating a dime. The bottom line is we have the two most important factors in building a successful program: recruitable players and popular support. We have fantastic indoor facilities, huge stacked weight rooms, and academic support centers. And most importantly we have membership in the Big Ten conference that annually offers us chance to chase all the glory and exposure imaginable. Heck the Big Ten has it's own TV network that I get here in Raleigh!

Yet we haven't managed a winning season in six years -- or back-to-back winning seasons since 1989-90. We did manage a 10-2 year in 2001 but somehow failed to capture any momentum from it, going 9-26 the next three seasons and getting coach Ron Turner fired. We followed that up by hiring Ron Zook, who has gone 4-19 in two seasons here. Heck we couldn't even beat Ohio last year. And that's not Ohio STATE, that's Ohio U!

But still here it is, the dawn of a new season. All the optimism (warranted or not) has returned. So on Saturday afternoon when the new batch of Illini take the field I'll be on the couch drinking a beer and cheering them on. (Or at least taping the game on the DVR) Because when they play Missouri we know that they are just as likely to lose the game as we are!

Go Illini. Oskee Wow Wow.

Damn... (UPDATED!)

Dangit. My old digital camera broke. Now I'm going to have to go to Best Buy and get me a new toy.

Can you tell how broken up I am about it?

UPDATE: Well, I just got back from Best Buy and I have my new toy after my old camera faced a horrible demise when one of the kids left the camera IN our soft cooler (right in the ice) instead of in one of the waterproof side pockets. I didn't know it was in there, and when the ice melted the camera got it's insides wet. Now it's dead.

My new toy is an Olympus Stylus 770SW, which has been designed to be kid-proof and Adam-proof.

It's encased in kryptonite I think, which makes it shockproof for drops of over 5 feet, and crushproof up to 220 pounds. (That means if I lose 20 pounds I could jump up and down on it if I wanted!) It's also freezeproof. And freezeproof is more important than you think. Case in point: the last time I went to the grocery store I put our bananas I bought in the freezer. Those weren't freezeproof. When I discovered them the next day, they were brown and covered in ice crystals. And when I took them out to thaw they turned black and mushy. No, bananas are not freezeproof.

My favorite feature is that the camera is also waterproof up to 33 feet. Which means we can take it snorkeling and get underwater shots. Or I could climb into the tank with the zoo tiger and get extreme closeups.

Finally, it takes pictures too! It will take regular pictures up to 7.1 Megapixels, which means I can take huge pictures that I can print in poster size without a loss in quality. Not that I have any plans to print pictures of me in poster size. I'm not sure anyone wants to see closeups of my zits and boogers.

Considering my old camera only took pictures up to 6 Megapixels, I'd say this was an upgrade. And since I bought a 2 gig memory card, I can also take up to 1 hour of video with it as well. Think about it - underwater video! The possibilities are endless! And yes, my mind has gone into the gutter!

Since I couldn't take a picture of the camera WITH the camera, you'll have to deal with a stock photo I found online:

Zoo tigers are mean!

Advice: Don't wave a cheeseburger in front of them if you want them to look like Tigger or Hobbes for a photo opportunity...

I'm worried

I had one of those moments today leaving work. It was one of those "did I really just do that?" moments. The kind that makes me wonder if I am turning into a retard, or if I've always been this stupid and am just beginning to realize it now.

Political Correctness disclaimer: If any retards happen to be reading my blog and are coherent enough to comprehend my ramblings, I wish to apologize if I may have offended you. And secondly, please explain to me what I'm writing because it doesn't really make much sense to me. Maybe you can help me out.

Back to the story: After work today I climbed into my car, backed out of my spot, put the car into drive and pulled forward about 20 feet when it suddenly dawned on me that I couldn't see. This seemed strange so I stopped. And it took me a full 5 seconds to realize the fact that I couldn't see was that I hadn't taken the sunshade off my windshield.

How bad is that???

Fun with the Lawnmower

Yesterday was a day I was looking forward to for quite a while. It was the day I was going to teach SON how to use the lawnmower and it was going to become one of his new chores. In return, he would be handing off litter box duty (doody) to DAUGHTER. So he was excited, and I was excited, and DAUGHTER... well, not so much.

We headed out around 9am, before the temperature broke 100 degress. Nevermind that it had already broken 90. And this seemed to be a popular idea since several of our neighbors were outside doing the same thing. So we get out the lawnmower - it's just a self-propelled push mower so it's not the highest tech of equipment he's ever seen. He stands there next to me and I show him the pull string, plus the only two controls he's going to need. Basically, you squeeze the two handlebars together to keep the motor running, and you pull the trigger to get the wheels moving. This explaination was a twenty minute process as I had to explain everything at least 5 times over. The lost look on his face about how to work the mower was a direct contrast to his mastery over anything electronic. Especially if said electronic equipment has a screen and/or a joystick attached.

So I gave up and said I'd just SHOW him. I started it up, did a quick run against the fence to get the edge and asked him if he's got it. He said yes, so I shut the mower down and said "OK, your turn".

He said "What did you turn it off for? Now I gotta start it up again!"

I said "Exactly! Show me what you know."

Anyway, he got it started (finally) and said he was ready. I told him to make stripes up and down the lawn so that when he was finished he wouldn't have missed anything. He said OK, and off he went... So I went to go head inside to make sure I didn't have cat litter across my living room. I made it about 5 steps before the mower shut off.

What's wrong?

"I didn't do it!" he said.

"Didn't do what?" I asked.

"Make it stop" he said.

It was out of gas. So I grabbed the gas can, only to discover that was out of gas too. Have I mentioned one of the endless joys of living where I do is that the closest gas station is 10 minutes away? And it's one of those 1950's places with the antique pumps with spin dial metering and no credit card reader? And it's not open on Sundays?.

So we take the 1/2 hour round trip hike to the gas station to fill up our little red container. Of course we spill a little bit so the container smells like gas even after we wipe it off. And my hands smell like gas even though I was holding a paper towel while cleaning it up. And my trunk smells like gas because I had the container back there for the ride home.

Once back, I filled the mower and he was off again. Then I went inside to check the litter box damage. It wasn't any worse than before I left, but that was most likely because DAUGHTER came along for the ride.

15 minutes later, SON comes in and tells me he's done. I go out to check only to discover I now have crop circles.

"What happened to going in straight lines like I asked?"

"There were some roots in the way, I didn't want to run them over."

"I told you we have some roots in the lawn from the tree, but they are very low and I have the mower set high enough that it's not going to hit them."

"Ohhhhh... that's what you meant."

"OK, get back to it."

Another 15 minutes later and SON come back in and tells me he's done again. This time it's much better. The crop circles are gone, but there is one big square that hasn't been mowed.

"Overall, you did a pretty good job, but you missed a big spot over there."

"Oh that spot didn't need to be mowed..."

"If it didn't need to be mowed, how would I know you missed it?"

"uhh....."

"Go finish up."

"awww........"

Five minutes later he comes in again. "I'm done, I put the mower away, It's hot out, I'm sweaty, and I quit."

"But You forgot the backyard!"

"What's the number for the child abuse hotline again?"

Actually, he did a pretty good job with the lawn. And I had intended to do the backyard myself the whole time because we have lots of bushes and it's fenced so it's hard to get the mower everywhere it needs to go. I figured I'd start him off slow.

So now it's 100 degrees out and all our neighbors have put their mowers away and gone to the pool. And I'm out back just getting started. And I haven't mentioned that our backyard has one other annoying quality: The grass grows, quickly, even in our drought without being watered. There aren't many places by us that still have green grass. But my backyard happens to be one of them. I've got lush underbrush back there...

Anyway, I'm mowing along and just as I'm getting to one big thick clump I see something laying in the grass. It didn't look like a rock or metal or anything dangerous, so I didn't yank the mower away - I just kept going. That would have been fine for must stuff back there, but just as I ran over it with the mower, it registered what it was... a small dead rabbit.

And it exploded. Small dead rabbits explode very quickly into lots of little pieces, with only a small "whack" sound and without so much as a strain on the lawnmower's engine. I know this because I have a side discharge mower and the lots of little pieces of small dead rabbit that exploded came flying out.

NOW I turned the mower off.

The only thing that was left of the exploded small dead rabbit was half the torso. The left half. Well, it could have been the right, but it was the half that was closer to the ground and didn't get whacked by the blades. And it was covered in maggots. About half these maggots seemed to be quite perturbed to be out in the bright sun and 100 degree heat. I didn't want to know where the other half of the maggots ended up.

I had about 5 seconds where my brain was thinking "Eww". Then my brain switched to CSI mode. That's where your brain tells you that if you take another look at the maggots it would be able to determine how long this exploded small dead rabbit had been there, and very probably how it died.

So I leaned over to take a closer look. And it all became clear. First of all, forget the maggots -- by the smell alone the answer to how long it had been there was "too long." The explosion must have let all this stench out, and it was nasty. Backing away, it also became clear that the reason this exploded small dead rabbit had died was without a doubt the result of our friendly black and white house cat. Not that there were any chew marks on the body (there wasn't enough of it left to tell even if there were). No, the reason I knew is because this black and white cat was the same one that brings us other chewed up rabbits on a fairly regular basis. Funny how a nasty stench can snap you back to reality in less that a second. The entire backyard REEKED. How such a powerful odor could come from something the size of my foot (well now HALF the size of my foot...) was beyond me. But I needed to go... away.

I then came to one further observation, since this black and white cat likes to spend his evenings sleeping with my son, the reason this rabbit was now in pieces and stinking up my backyard was obviously SON's fault. It had nothing to do with me running it over with the mower.

SON needed to be taught a lesson. Small dead rabbits should not be exploded in the backyard by lawnmowers. They leave a very nasty lingering stench. To teach him this lesson, I decided that HE needed to finish mowing the backyard. I needed some fresh air...

"Why do I gotta finish mowing the back yar.... EWWW what's that smell? I'm going back inside! You do it." Slam... lock.

Let's play a game!

Can you tell which is the colony of undifferentiated human embryonic stem cells and which is the Van Gogh? (Hint: One is used to treat Parkinson's, Alzheimer's, spinal cord injuries, diabetes, strokes, and burns and the other is just a painting.)

I'm pissed

I am so angry right now. I was completely lied to. I was driving into work today and I saw the giant billboard that said Saturday's Powerball drawing will be worth an estimated $300M. That meant I didn't win last night. When I bought my Powerball tickets for last night's drawing the woman at the counter distinctly promised me she sold me the winning ticket. Not only didn't I win, I only got ONE number right. What's up with that?

Wait a minute. Saturday's drawing is $300M? I'll be right back, I gotta run out for a minute...

Another Harmless Rant

For those of you who aren't familiar with my old blog, you probably haven't seen me do any of these yet. There are some days when I get up and just feel like writing. And I'll start writing with a distinct topic or point in mind. Then halfway through I'll go off on a tangent and never finish my original though. Get used to it, it happens a lot. And as a result the end of the article may be completely different than the beginning. Or I may have talked myself out of my original position somewhere along the way and end up debating the other side of the argument by the final sentences. You never know what you'll get. Heck, I don't know what you'll get. So get in, sit down, shut up, and hold on. Then tell me I'm insane when I'm finished. I'm used to it.

Here goes...

For the past month, in complete contrast to its position on last year's Duke rape case, the NAACP has urged the public not to judge Michael Vick before he has his day in court. But now that Vick has agreed to plead guilty and there won't be a trial, they've changed their tune to fit the moment. "At this point, you're not looking at guilt or innocence," said R.L. White, president of the NAACP's Atlanta chapter, "You're thinking, 'What I better do is cut my losses and take a plea.' But if he saw this as the best thing to do at this point for his future, then I think he made the correct choice." White continued that he regretted the plea deal will mean all the facts of the case might never be known.

My problem with that is that Vick isn't making a deal. He's pleading guilty to the full charges because there is overwhelming evidence against him.

But that wasn't enough for White. He is now also pleading his case that the NFL allow Vick to get back into the league once he completes his sentence."As a society, we should aid in his rehabilitation and welcome a new Michael Vick back into the community without a permanent loss of his career in football. We further ask the NFL, Falcons, and the sponsors not to permanently ban Mr. Vick from his ability to bring hours of enjoyment to fans all over this country."

My problem here is twofold:

First of all, where was all this NAACP support of the white Duke Lacrosse players? Oh yea, there wasn't any. Instead, the NAACP was standing next to Jesse Jackson and the Black Panthers protesting Duke University and asking the the players be booted from school and the team be kicked off campus. In fact Jesse Jackson went so far as to pay the college tuition of this lying accuser. The University bowed to this pressure and while these players were innocent, they and the rest of the team had the remainder of their season cancelled. And once the players were exonerated, there was no apology, nor any calls to make amends.

Furthermore, the NAACP's idea that the NFL should be the god-given right for anyone with enough talent is absurd. The NFL has a stringent code of conduct. There are countless cases of players falling to the late rounds of the draft or simply not being drafted at all because they are of questionable moral character -- no matter how solid their performance on the college football field. Playing in the NFL is a privledge, not a right. Just like a driving a car is. People convicted of drunk driving arent automatically handed their driver's license back once they step out of prison. And in that same mold, Vick shouldn't expect someone to hand him his helmet and shoulder pads back either.

The bottom line is the NAACP is wrong, and their actions are nothing but grandstanding for their own benefit. This organization and many of the other black leaders will do or say anthing to remain relevant, even if it's playing the race card at every given opportunity. They may not claim racism directly, but it's always implied.

For example, they claim that the white population simply doesn't understand the Black "subculture". Every time someone goes on TV or writes an article in the paper in an attempt to either explain or defend Vick, they invariably refer to this black "subculture". As in, "the subculture of dogfighting," or "dogfighting is part of the Southern subculture," or "a subculture many do not understand." The dogfighting subculture is apparently a subsidiary of the Southern subculture, which is itself a subsidiary of American culture. The problem I have with this is the usage of the word. They are trying to use this "subculture" a justification, as if attaching the word culture -- in whatever form -- somehow grants this activity with credibility. In other words: However depraved it might be, you have to somehow respect it because it's cultural. Sorry, I'm not buying it. Nobody should. It's not "keeping it real" (to use the another justification for this sort of behavior.)

Let me explain. Vick was on top of the world. He had a $130 million contract with the Atlanta Falcons, and countless millions more in endorcements in a city with the largest middle-class black population in the country. The fans adored him and his play backed it up. Then he threw it all away because he bought into the self-destructive, immature, hip-hop model (ahem, subculture) of "keeping it real." Regardless of the world set out before him by the Atlanta Falcons and the NFL, Vick wanted to do things his way - both on and off the field. On the field, he wanted to customize the position in terms of his style of play. And off it, he wanted to "keep it real" by remaining firmly entrenched in the seedy world he grew up in. Unfortunately these two worlds don't mix.

Vick financed his friends' illegal dogfighting activity. And he may have enjoyed dogfighting but he certainly didn't need it. He didn't need a home dedicated to breeding and training pit bulls. He didn't need to open and operate Bad Newz Kennels. Vick stayed involved with dogfighting, and he did so primarily because it was a way to stay involved in an activity in which his "boys" still participated. It was Vick's way of "keeping it real". He was fearful of being labeled a sellout -- fearful of having his blackness questioned.

For an athlete, or any successful person for that matter, "keeping it real' should mean offering your friends and family opportunities to acquire the skills necessary to join the mainstream. Instead of running a dogfighting ring with his friends, Vick should've paid for an education. Or he should have tried to help them establish a legitimate business. And if they weren't interested in that, Vick should've informed them that he had "nothing but love for them". No matter the problem, you can't help people who have no interest in helping themselves. Furthermore, to claim that the lack of interest in betterment is simply "black culture" is backwards and stupid. And to state so publically is not racist. However, blaming those who refuse to accept this "black culture" for the issues in society is.

In my opinion I think we should let Vick's prison sentence send the message that a continued allegiance to this street "subculture" helps keep black men behind in American society. Vick is walking proof that millions of dollars are little protection if a certain mentality remains. Until now, Vick was considered one of the lucky ones. He rose out of poverty and became a star. He went from nothing to millions. Yet at the same time, studies continue to show that black men are failing at an alarming and heartbreaking rate. More than half of black men in the inner cities don't have a high school diploma. There are more black men in prison than in college. Every other minority in society -- Latinos, Asians, women, etc. -- are gaining ground, but black men are falling further and further behind in virtually every category.

To me, the first step to a solution is to attack this poisonous idea in the black community that equates only negatives with success. That's one reason Vick kept his circle of friends -- because successful black people are pressured into keeping their toxic buddies around for the sake of "keeping it real." Vick was in a position to show that young, black men are no different than anyone else. But instead Vick will be in prison. Instead of wrapping himself in the support he received from millions of fans, Vick aligned himself with a destructive culture that is being indirectly endorsed as long as some African-Americans continue to make pathetic excuses for an immature millionaire. That's not "keeping it real". That's stupid.

At the end of the day, Vick has pleaded guilty and as a result will go to prison for his crimes. The justifications and defenses need to stop. The people who defend him on the basis of culture are demeaning themselves in the process. Don't tell me about Leonard Little. As bad as drunken driving is, what Little did was still an accident - a horrible lapse of judgement under the influence of vodka from a party, but still an accident. Vick not only knew what he was doing, he actively and willingly participated and funded it for FOUR YEARS. Don't tell me about Ray Lewis, he was innocent. And don't tell me everybody who eats a steak or a piece of fried chicken is as guilty as Vick because the meat-processing industry in this country is as inhumane as Bad Newz Kennels. Spare us both these false comparisons and the righteous indignation about hunting being the same thing, and see Vick for what he is.

Unfortunately too many black leaders and athletes still do not. On Monday, Stephon Marbury of the New York Knicks was in Albany promoting his brand of affordable sneakers. He was asked about Michael Vick, and said, "We don't say anything about people shooting deers and shooting other animals, you know what I mean? From what I hear, dogfighting is a sport. It's just behind closed doors and I think it's tough that we build Michael Vick up and then we break him down ... I think he fell into a bad situation."

Vick didn't fall into a bad situation. He jumped in willingly with both feet. Get over it. And I'm not a racist for wanting him to go to prison for his actions. If this was Peyton Manning instead of Michael Vick, I'd want him in jail just as much.

Even Darth Vader reads Harry Potter

Fraud Protection

I came home from work yesterday and there was a message on my machine that said it was from Chase (my credit card company) and that I should call immediately because there was some suspicious activity on my account.

Well, that kicked MY suspicious gene into high gear. What proof did I have that this was really Chase calling, and that number they left wasn't a fake in some attempt to get my personal information? So instead of calling the number, I called the regular number on the back of my credit card and asked for the Fraud Protection division.

They did confirm that the call was legitimate and there was some suspicious activity on my card. Apparantly it had been used online and I had a pair of minimal charges (less than $40 each) to a couple of internet marketing firms. I have never used that card online and told them so, at which point they voided the charges, cancelled my card and sending me a new one, and are issuing notifications of this activity to all the credit reporting agencies.

Needless to say I'm impressed. It's obviously a pain to have to wait until my new card arrives, but I only use that card for gas purchases and my tank is at 3/4th so I should be OK. But on the other hand, it's those types of small purchases that probably would have gone unnoticed by me for a while. I thanked them and asked them what tipped them off. They said I had no history of online usage with the account so they figured they'd call and check.

Anyway, I am very safe with my cards, so needless to say I'm surprised that it happened to me. And if it happened to me, it could happen to anyone. Check your accounts regularly, and keep your numbers safe!

(Lots of) Random Ramblings

I’m tired

Wow. It’s barely 9am on a Monday morning, and I’m about ready to fall asleep at my desk. I think it MAY have something to do with the fact that we spent all day tubing down the Dan river, and then we got home just in time to turn around to go back to my hockey game. From there I crawled into bed around 12:30, only to be woken up around 1am by DQ who had inner-tube arms. The inside of her arms were all irritated by constant rubbing against the rubber combined with all the river water. It messed with her eczema so we slathered them up with Elocon cream and she went back to bed.

Then we had to get up at 7am to get ready for camp before I headed to the office. I tried to wake up earlier, I really did. But the snooze button does nothing but piss me off. I keep smacking it, and it keeps beeping 7 minutes later. What’s up with that?

Anyway, the kids are at camp, and I’m here at work, and my eyeballs seem to be set an inch and a half deeper into my head than they should be. I think it’s creating a vacuum that’s trying to pull my eyelids shut, and also creating a pair of miniature black-holes complete with the extra gravitational fields that are trying to weigh my head down onto the keyboard…

At least when I’m tired, I like to write.

Mega-T

I bought a package of Green Tea Mega-T weight lost pills. They advertise themselves as “fat burners and appetite suppressants”. They don’t work. I’m hungry.

Shaving

My razor is one of those 5 bladed Gillette Fusion “turbo” things. It works really well, yet I’ve said this before: Whoever invented the “turbo” part must have been a woman. The vibrating part does nothing for my face, but every time I turn it on I think it must be great for a woman’s bikini area. And if they take off the razor head and turn the thing around, it’ll make a nice… ah, never mind.

I digress. I noticed I woke up with a zit on the left side of my chin this morning. It’s not a good idea to shave zits with a 5 bladed Gillette Fusion “turbo” that works really well. My zit was effectively shaved off, and now I had a nice bloody spot in its place. It’s also not a good idea to put on a white dress shirt until said blood spot has stopped bleeding.

Tubing the Dan River

As I mentioned above we decided to go tubing yesterday. We got up around 7am, (funny how I don’t seem to have problems waking up around 7am when there’s fun things to do!) loaded up the cooler, packed a change of clothes and headed out the door around 8am. We piled into the car and backed halfway out of the driveway. Then we stopped and GB went back into the house because he forgot the pile of towels I asked him to bring. Then DQ went into the house because she forgot her flip-flops. Then GB went back into the house because he wanted to bring his Nintendo DS for the ride. Then DQ went back into the house because she wanted to bring her Nintendo DS because GB had his DS. Then GB went back into the house because he needed his car charger for his Nintendo DS. Then Joe scolded the kids for not planning properly and forgetting things. Then Joe went back into the house because he forgot the suntan lotion…

So we get to the Danbury General Store, which is a little shack in a little town north of Greensboro, NC. Next to the General Store is about a 30 year old passenger van that shuttled us upriver to the launch point. Next to the launch point is even a smaller shack with an old lady taking names. Off to the side of the shack is a large pile of truck inner tubes of various sizes. I grabbed a big one for me, and a small one for our cooler. Then I sat there watching the kids embark on a 10 minute debate, discussion, and trial in their attempt to find the “perfect” inner tube for the trip. After trying out about 30 tubes and making a mess of the stack of tubes, they each finally made their selection. The old lady smiled with satisfaction. Then we got to the edge of the river and the kids decided to switch tubes…

The actual trip downstream was fun and full of sights to see. Some of the sites were quite natural and beautiful, such as huge trees, cliff walls, caves, fish, bugs and snakes. Some of the sites were rather disturbing, such as submerged beer cans and tires, and large women in string bikinis. There should be some law that prevents women from wearing string bikinis if you can’t see the bottoms because their stomachs hang too low. Or they if they need to be wearing 4 or 5 tops up and down their front to cover all their rolls. Or if their bikini has more pieces than they have teeth.

We stopped for lunch at a little beach a couple of hours downstream. This must have been a common place to stop because there were tons of small fish in the water. These fish quite obviously were used hanging around people because they seemed to be eyeing us rather impatiently. DQ took notice and tossed them a piece of her sandwich bread crust, and it was on. These little fish looked like a pack of piranhas, wrestling each other for a piece of the prize. And the splashing attracted a pack of larger versions of these small fish. So the next piece of sandwich bread crust to hit the water started the little fish swarm again, only this time it got broken up by a bigger fish swarm. This continued until we were out of sandwich bread crusts. But the fish were still hanging around. DQ tried to tell them we were out of food, but they obviously don’t speak English. Anyway, after eating, the kids decided to go swimming. And that’s when we found out why they were sticking around. “They’re biting me!” DQ yelled from the water. And she wasn’t kidding. These little fish were pecking at her. DQ was amused. The fish seemed less so. Apparently they only thought they were piranha, and as such seemed frustrated that they couldn’t finish her off.

After GB and I amused ourselves with DQ’s new friends for about 30 seconds we wandered off to a small rock formation about 20 yards away. It was here we found another new friend: A pretty intimidating 3 foot long snake. This guy was hanging out near a rock about 5 feet out in the water when I first saw him. He saw me and darted under the rock. I called GB over to look but the snake hid himself under there well. We were about to give up when I guess the snake couldn’t hold his breath any longer and surfaced. We decided not to venture too long, or any closer, because I wasn’t quite sure what kind of snake it was. (I looked it up last night and it was a non-venomous Northern Water Snake.)

Anyway, we paddled most of the rest of the way down river. We did have to stop two or three times to get out and carry our tubes since we’re in such a drought here that the water level was quite low. (According to the old woman in the little shack, it was the lowest the river has ever been, due to this being the 5th straight year of drought. Not that global warming has anything to do with that, or our constant 100+ degree temperatures.)

Once we made our way to the exit point, the water got a bit deeper and there was a small park built in and around the river. There was quite a gathering of people around, taking full advantage of the beaches on both banks. And even better, there was a giant tree that overhung the river with a rope swing. All the kids would line up to take turns hanging onto the rope while jumping off a big rock, over the beach, and out into the river where they would let go and fall into the deep section of the river. Except for GB. He didn’t hold on tight enough on his first attempt and almost face planted himself into the sand after he jumped off the rock. If the batteries on my camera wouldn’t have been died I would have had a great picture…

So that was our day. Lots of sun, lots of fun, and a few pictures I’ll post later.

Labatt Blue Hockey

I had a hockey game last night. It was week two of our winter season. (Don’t laugh, yes – we’re in the winter season!) And we lost again. But at least recently we’re losing close games. We lost 3-2 for the second straight week, this time to DTS Software. I’ll repost the link to our team site once someone updates the latest stats.

Nielson TV

We’re officially on the books. The Nielson TV people showed up on Saturday to hook up all our TVs. Including the old 9” TV/VCR combo that GB has in his room that is only used for our old Atari 2600. We tried to tell them not to waste their time hooking up that TV since we don’t use it, but they said that they get in trouble if they don’t hook up everything. Then the guy got upset when he said the VCR part of the TV/VCR combo ate his test tape. He seemed even more upset when I showed no sympathy since I told him not to bother with it and he did anyway. Anyway, it’s all set up now. I don’t know exactly what I expected, but I figured it was going to be completely automated. I guess it is sorta. The only thing we have to do is use a small remote whenever we turn on a TV to let the system know WHO is watching. That part can’t be automated. And I guess it’s for that effort why they pay us to do this…

Still, like I said previously: any boost you see in Raleigh’s rating for Ice Road Truckers and The Deadliest Catch would be me. And any boost in Cartoon Network would be the kids.

Tecmo Bowl

Yes, that’s right. The old Nintendo football game is available as a download onto the Wii. And we downloaded it. Sure it’s only got 8 bit graphics. And the players are nothing but big blobs. And the teams have just 2 color uniforms each. And there are only 9 players on a side. But forget Madden, (or whatever the latest football game is on any of the newest consoles are.) this is still the most fun football game ever made.

Even GB, who loves the latest graphics and all the high-tech shooters, can’t put it down. Thankfully he doesn’t know anything about Bo Jackson, or how all powerful the Los Angeles running back was in the game. (Bo knows football!) That’s the only reason I can still beat his butt, much to his chagrin. Sometimes there are advantages to being old enough to remember when this game originally came out and all its little secrets.

Beckham

I can admit it. I’ve bought into the hype. I’ve been watching a lot of soccer now that David Beckham has come to the US and is playing for the Los Angeles Galaxy. I watched the first friendly last month when Chelsea came to visit. Beckham only played the final 15 minutes of the match because of a bum ankle but you would have thought it was the Super Bowl when he stepped onto the field.

While it’s still early, he’s actually matching the hype. He scored and had an assist last week when the Galaxy beat DC United. And then on Saturday, the Galaxy was playing Red Bull New York so DQ and I sat down to watch. I explained to her who Beckham was and who he was playing for. (Nevermind that the first thing DQ said to me was “Aren’t you supposed to be rooting for Red Bull since you grew up in New York?” I told her to “Shut up!”) Anyway, the game gets underway and within 2 minutes the Red Bull scored. “He’s not doing too well…”

But then it got good. Two minutes later the Galaxy had a corner kick and Beckham fed a kick into the 6 which Davon headed past the keeper to tie the score. “Wow” she said. “Wow” I said too, impressed that DQ recognized the nice feed. Not three minutes later the Galaxy had a free kick 25 yards out, and Beckham bent a cross into the box which once again Davon headed in to put the Galaxy up 2-1. “He’s good!” DQ said. I told her “that’s why they made a movie about him…”

(He didn’t do squat the rest of the game, and the Red Bull came back to win 5-4.)

My belt

I couldn’t find my black belt this morning. So now I’m wearing brown belt with my black shoes. It doesn’t match and I simply don’t care…

Yesterday’s Democratic Debate

I didn’t watch since we went tubing. If you want a review, go to ABC.com. I think that was the channel that was broadcasting it.

Powerball

This Wednesday’s drawing is $245 million dollars. I already bought the winning ticket, but if you guys want to go buy some tickets for yourselves, it’s more money for me. I appreciate it! I’ll think of you when I go buy my first huge house or cool car…

Tubing Pictures

As promised, here are a couple of tubing pictures.

You can see the rest of them here.

The coolest thing I've ever heard...

The Russian region of Ulyanovsk has created a new Holiday that will be celebrated every September 12th. The entire region is given the day off of work, but with one stipulation: You have to have sex...

They have declared Sept. 12 the "Day of Conception," and for the third year running they are giving couples time off from work to, well... get it on. The hope is for a baby boom nine months later on Russia's national day, June 12th. Couples who "give birth to a patriot" during Russia Day festivities win money, cars, refrigerators and other prizes.

The reason behind this is because Russia remains one of the most sparsely settled countries in the world and it's getting worse. With a low birthrate and a very high death rate, the population has been shrinking since the early 1990s. It is falling by almost half a percent each year. This is just one way to reverse that trend...

I don't know if it will work, but it sounds like a whole lot of fun to try!

Read more here.

Pop-Pop's 90th Birthday Party

Well, if you read my earlier post, you'll already know where I was this weekend. It was a great time, and virtually everyone made it. The only ones absent were the Sullivans from Connecticut who's daughter just had her tonsils out, one other cousin from Vancouver, and my two kids.

I tried to get them home from San Francisco in time to bring them with me, but their grandmother was visiting them for the week. My ex didn't want to bring the kids back until Saturday because they wanted the extra day to make sure they got to see everything she wanted to.

The bottom line is their maternal grandmother gets two out of the past 6 weeks with the kids, but they aren't willing to come home one day early so my family can see them for the party. But no, I'm not bitter. Especially with yesterday's fallout.

Anyway, enough negativity. Enjoy a few pictures courtesy of Dxxxxx!

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The entire gang!

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Generation Three, minus Jxxxxx and Nxxxxx who couldn't make it, and Axxxxxxx who wandered off and missed the picture.

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Pop-pop's cake

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Pop-pop with Mxxxx (the youngest of the crew) and Axxxxxx.

To my ex wife

Let me remind you that the moment you walked out the door you gave up any right to expect I'm going to jump through any hoop you want me to.

Let me remind you that just because you decided to take a position in San Francisco for six months doesn't mean I'm supposed to give you extra credit because you put the kids in a cool science camp out there while they visited.

I apologize if I didn't say "thank you" for arranging all the kids travel and making all their summer plans when the only reason this was necessary was because you decided on your own to take this six month assignment.

While I am very glad the kids had a great summer, I'm sorry if it doesn't appear that I am in awe of everything you did. I do understand how hard you worked organizing everything, but it was only necessary because you really wanted to take this assignment. Additionally, I don't think you should receive extra credit for being with the kids by yourself for these six weeks. You're their mom, it's your job. (Nevermind the fact that YOUR mom was there with for two of the six weeks while you all went on vacation. Nevermind that I was out there and took them for a few days. Nevermind the guy you had an affair with was there for at least a week as well.) I'm sorry if I don't think it's all that big a deal. Again, this was your decision to go in the first place, and your efforts were required because of that decision. Finally, because while I acknowledge you had them for six weeks over the summer, I will have them by myself for the REST OF THE YEAR as a result of your decision. And I don't have family in the area to help. And I don't have a girlfriend who will fly out to help on the company payroll either. Furthermore, I don't expect for you to say "thank you" for this. I don't expect any credit for this at all. They are my kids and I'll do whatever it takes because I want to, not because I want credit.

Next, when you dropped them off to me yesterday, you had no right to make a scene in front of my house because you feel you were wronged when I showed up two hours later than you expected. It was wrong for you to do this in front of my neighbors, and it was even worse to do it in front of our son.

First of all, you knew that I was making the 5 hour drive up to Maryland for my grandfather's 90th birthday on Saturday. You knew that this was a big event and that there would be family members there that I hadn't seen in years. Additionally, I told you that I would be heading back after brunch on Sunday. You do not have the right to blame me for ruining your afternoon barbeque you had with your boyfriend because you assumed that brunch would be first thing in the morning and that I would be on the road by 9:30 or 10am.

You do not get to accuse me of not communicating with you for not specifiying a specific time I would get back on the road. I told you I was leaving after brunch, and I honestly didn't know what time that would be. And you do not have the right to get angry when I tell you that you could communicate better in return, since you never even mentioned the BBQ in the first place. It is a two way street here. How was I supposed to know I needed to rush off if you didn't tell me you had plans in the first place?

But all this is only secondary.

It offends me that you will stand on my driveway and yell at me for somehow wronging you in front of the kids and my neighbors.

It offends me that after I listen to you go on for 5 minutes, when I start to talk to defend myself that I am "talking over you".

It offends me that you feel that your BBQ with your boyfriend was more important than my grandfather's birthday or visiting with family I hadn't seen in years.

It offends me that you "understand I was visiting with family" but still insist that I should have left first thing in the morning, using the excuse that "I have to leave now because my ex has prior commitments."

It offends me when you can say this to me when you never even told me about these plans ahead of time.

It offends me that when I say that communication is a two way street you tell me to "fuck off". I'll at least give you credit for waiting until our son went inside before breaking into profanity.

It offends me that you will be nice to my family to their face, but you act like they don't matter when they aren't there. It's OK for you to spend one extra day with your mom after having two of the last six weeks with her, but I am wrong for sticking around a couple hours longer than you though I should for a brunch.

It offends me when you say "after all I've done for you, all I wanted was one afternoon for myself" and then storm off when I point out that I asked you to come home one day early so not only could I take the kids with me to Maryland so they can visit with my family too, but you would have had the WHOLE WEEKEND to yourself.

It offends me that you didn't want to do this since your mom was visiting. The fact that I wanted the kids to visit with my family was irrelevant.

It offends me that you slam the car door and drive off when I refuse to tell you that your time and your family is more important than mine. That's what you wanted to hear, wasn't it? I am sorry if I didn't give you that satisfaction.

I'm sorry that you drove off convinced that I am this horrible and angry person, but I think it's about time you took a look in the mirror. May I take a moment to remind you of one of your old and tired arguments you gave me for the problems in our marriage -- the one where I didn't respect your faith and religion. Well, I've been nothing but honest and faithful, and I've honored every single promise I ever made to you. If I die tomorrow, I'm fully ready to stand in front of your God and face his judgement. I hope you are prepared to do the same.

The Hardee's Experience

OK, story time. I was running errands for lunch yesterday so in the interest of time, I decided to stop at a Hardee's for a quick bite before heading back to the office. I rarely do fast food anymore, but still I chose Hardee's because it was on the way, plus I had a bunch of coupons from this fundraiser book I had bought.

Anyway, I pulled out a coupon that read "Enjoy a Free Thickburger of your choice with the Purchase of a Thickburger of Equal or Greater Value" and pulled up to the drive-thru. That's when the fun began.

I thought this was a fairly straightforward coupon, and when it was my turn I told the speaker girl that I had a buy one get one free coupon for a Thickburger and would like to order two Grilled Sourdough Thickburgers. She paused for a moment then said I would need to come inside to place my order.

That seemed strange, but I thought the heat may have been causing problem with their outdoor screens or something, so I went inside. When it was my turn, I repeated my order to the lady at the counter. I said I had a coupon for a buy one get one free coupon for a Thickburger, and I would like to order two Grilled Sourdough Thickburgers. At this point the manager standing behind her came up and said "You can't do that."

I asked why. He said sourdough burgers and Six Dollar burgers are NOT thickburgers, only the specifically marked "1/3 Pound Thickburgers" are Thickburgers. I showed him my coupon and said it doesn't specify what kind of Thickburgers I could order, it just said I could use it for any Thickburger of my choice.

At this point he turned around and pointed to the #1 Combo on the board. He said "Read the board! Do you see where it says those are 1/3 Pound Thickburgers? That's what you get!"

I said "Why? The sourdough burgers are Thickburgers too." He then proceeded to roll his eyes and said to me and to everyone else on line and in the restaurant. "Sir, you need to learn how to read!"

Wow. He didn't just say that to me. This was no longer about a burger. It was about common decency, professionalism, customer service. You don't insult customers in front of other customers. Especially when you're wrong.

I told him I know how to read just fine. And he said "Go read your coupon again, it says Thickburger, not sourdough or Six Dollar burger."

I said it doesn't specify what kind of Thickburger, it says ENJOY MY CHOICE of them.

He said "You really need to learn how to read. Read it again. It says THICKBURGER!"

At this point I was pissed and asked to speak to the manager. He said he WAS the manager. So I asked for the number of the district manager. He wandered into the back to get it.

Just to make sure I wasn't making a mistake here, I reviewed the board again. Clearly Combo #5 was for a Six Dollar Thickburger and Combo #6 was for a Grilled Sourdough Thickburger. (Basically all their big burgers are called Thickburgers...)

So when he came back and handed me the piece of paper with the number, I said to him, "Since you said I can't read, would you please read for me what the burger is called in #6?" He took a look, realized what I was talking about, and then turned back to me and said "Just call the number."

I insisted. I said "No. Please. If you are going to insult me in front of all these people and tell me I can't read, I want YOU to read it for me so there is no misunderstanding. Please read to me what the #6 burger is called." He repeated "Call the number", at which point the woman in the back handed him my two regular burgers. He put them down on the counter and said "There you go. Have a nice life. Goodbye."

Unbelievable. I was pissed, but not at the burgers. Heck, the only real difference between the two was the one I wanted came with a sourdough bun. So I took them and left. And when I got to the car, I started to dial. After 4 rings nobody answered so I hung up. I let it go and went back to the office.

About an hour later my phone rings, and it's the guy from Hardee's. He said "Did you try to call earlier?" I said yea, and explained what happened. He asked me if they comped my meal. I said no, but I didn't want or expect that. I'm quite capable of paying for the burgers, and my problem wasn't with the food, it was with the manager. Well, I want to give you a free meal. It sounds like he doesn't understand our menu. I told him no thank you, that wasn't the point. He insisted. He said "I know it's not the point but I want to do it anyway. Can you stop by on your way home after work? I'll be over there anyway."

It was on the way so I said fine. Fast forward to 5pm and I got in the car and headed over there. The guy was easy to spot as he was the only one behind the counter in a shirt and tie. I introduced myself and he apologized for what happened, and handed me a voucher for a free meal. He then asked me which manager was the one who said I couldn't read. I pointed the guy out, and he called him over.

He asked the guy "Did you tell this guy he couldn't read?" The manager glared at me, but he said yes. The district manager immediately said "Your fired." I don't know which of our jaws hit the ground first, but I actually spoke first. I said "I don't want the guy fired and I didn't want a big stink. I just wanted you guys to work on your customer service."

The manager kind of gave me a "thank you" look, then his eyes went back to the DM but it didn't help. The DM simply said "What do you think I'm doing?" then he looked back at the other guy and said "GO!"

The guy slumped off.

I just stared at this DM. "That is NOT why I called you." I said "I was angry at the guy, but I don't want to be responsible for making him lose his job!" He said to me "You didn't make him lose his job. He did. They've had lots of training on customer service and obviously he didn't learn anything."

So now here I am, feeling extremely guilty about ordering a burger with a sourdough bun. Anyone want a coupon for some free Hardee's? I don't think I'm going back there...

Harmless Rantings

Covered Bridge Road

There is a 5 mile stretch of road that I use to travel home from Raleigh every day. It's called Covered Bridge Road, which is sort of a misnomer because the only bridge on the road crosses the Neuse River and it's not covered. But that's not the point. Still, it's a beautiful windy backwoods road that has tall trees on both sides in many areas. These trees have branches that extend across the road giving you the sensation of driving through a tunnel. But that's not the point either. For the most part the road has a speed limit of 55 miles per hour. And it's quite fun to drive during the day. If your car is clean you feel like the image could be used for a TV commercial. But at night, it's a different story. It's not lit. And there are deer. And they hate me. They stand on the side of the road and stare at me. Black beady eyes and all. They never actually stand in the road at night, but they get as close to it as possible. There have been plenty of times where I didn't even see them until I thought I was going to smack them in the chin with a side view mirror. It makes me wonder if they are playing a deer version of the game chicken amongst themselves. Or if they are trying to scare me into swerving off the road and into a tree. I don't know, but they are there every night. Usually two or three per trip. Oh, I see them during the day too, but on those occasions they are running across the road much further ahead. Like normal deer are supposed to. But not at night... these ones are evil. They stare. With black beady eyes. I mentioned those black beady eyes already, haven't I? I don't drive the road at more than 35 miles per hour at night. I'm not going to fall into their trap. Whatever it may be...

Parking In the Shade

Getting to work is becoming a race. We don't have a parking garage, but what we do have is a row of 20 spots under some trees where you can park your car for the day in the shade. And if you get to work by 8:25 you have your pick of the spots. If you get to work at 8:30 you're getting one of the final three spots furthest from the building. And if you get to work at 8:31 you're parking in the sun. And parking in the sun is not fun. There is nothing worse than coming out of work and opening your car door only to be knocked 5 feet backwards by the blast of heat. Why am I mentioning this? It's supposed to be 99 degrees here today. And 101 tomorrow. And 103 on Thursday. And this isn't wimpy Arizona dry heat. This is heat with 95% humidity. At least in dry Arizona sun when you sweat it evaporates cooling you off. Here, it just sits on you. Making you hot. And making you sweaty. And I got to work at 8:32.

Cell Phone

I feel naked. I left my cellphone sitting on my kitchen table this morning. If I ever got important messages on my cellphone I might get one today and miss it. And then what would I do?

Scratch Removers

I think they are misnamed because they don't work. They don't remove scratches in paint. I've bought two different types now to remove some small key scratches on my car, and instead of removing the scratches all they do is leave a waxy residue in the scratches making them more noticable.

I'm officially old!

Yep, I'm officially old now. I got home from work last night, went through my mail and there it was...

... an invitation to my 20th Year High School Reunion.

Damn.