A literal description of my state of mind
A literal description of my state of mind
Three hours ago, Mookie and Mrs. Jones came home from a lucrative shopping trip. WalMart is getting rid of their fabric departments, and the ladies hit them hard at clearance prices. Much fabric was carted into the house.
Mookie just came downstairs to model a skirt she made. Red polka dots, side-zipper, and other sewish jargon that I don't understand was used. It looks good.
I asked her if it ever made her friends mad that she could whip out a skirt or purse in a couple of hours. She answered, "not really, but it really pisses 'em off when I do it without using a pattern."
Like this one. The girl got skilz.
So far this season...
Had the owner of the team come into the stands to shake hands and say "hello, thanks for coming" to every single person there. He even sat with some folks for a while, talking about things that could be improved at the ballpark.
After one evening game, as we walked back to the car we passed a guy in full kit, standing in the dark of the parking lot playing the bagpipes.
During a mid-week evening game - attendance less than 300 - we watched as the ushers made sure that every single kid in the stadium got a foul ball during the game.
Monday's are dollar night. Ticket to the grandstand, a buck. Hot dog, a buck. Not cheap dogs either, these are Hebrew National franks.
The astoundingly good fireworks after Saturday night games.
Hearing an announcement that goes something like, "Would the owner of a blue Honda Accent, license plate ABC-123 please report to the customer service booth... because you've got THE DIRTIEST CAR IN THE PARKING LOT!!!" They win a deluxe car wash from a local business. It's done every game, and I laugh like hell every time.
Cheering every game when the home team takes the field before the National Anthem, who are then joined by the players from one of the local little league teams.
The various renditions of the National Anthem. Not that bad, not that good (to quote Alabama). Once by an elementary school choir, another time by Miss Blue Ridge Mountains or some such. Got a lump in my throat when she dedicated the song to her dad, who was a reservist leaving for Afghanistan in a couple of weeks.
Singing Take Me Out to the Ball Game for the seventh inning stretch, followed by the theme song from SpongeBob Square Pants. I'm getting to know those words, too.
Dozens of little kids in their little league uniforms scrambling for every foul ball.
Watching pre-game warmups to various baseball-related songs interspersed with comedy bits like Abbot and Costello's classic Who's On First?
Baseball, played by guys who love the game. They're not getting rich at this level, and the odds are that they'll never get to the big show, but they hustle and play hard every single play.
Rocket Jones Recommendation: Try it, you might love it.
Over at Joe Horror, I review Misty Mundae's Bite Me! (mutant spiders, yay!) and the classic The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari. Lots of other good reviews posted too.
100-word stories have long been one of the features of Blog d'Elisson, and apparently he's now found someone demented enough to run with the idea. You can now buy "Shorts in a Wad: One Hundred 100-Word Stories" at Amazon.com.
You go buy now, he love you short time.
Mrs. Jones has posted some links to the old Schoolhouse Rock videos. I spent a while singing along with them again.
Conjunction Junction, What's Your Function?...
I'm sitting in the living room last night around 11pm, watching a movie (lesbian vampires, review coming soon), when I felt something land on me. I brushed it away without thinking. A few minutes later, it happened again. Almost immediately, again. Now, the thought did cross my mind that it could be a spider, but hey, I'm watching lesbian vampires, ya know?
I finally snagged whatever is was that was landing on me and looked at it, and it had wings. We've had mayfly hatchings where the dang things get into the house and are everywhere, but this didn't look like a mayfly. It looked like an...
Uh oh. Go turn on the light and then check the front door. Sunuvabitch! Ants!!! The tile floor in front of the door is covered with 'em, and I see scouts already making their way onto the carpet. The doorframe is alive with them and they're making their way along the wall as they expand their beachhead.
I'm really pissed off now. Heading into the basement to find some industrial grade ecologically-unsound ant fucker-upper, I'm wondering if wasp/hornet killer will do the job, because I *know* I've got two cans of that shit. What I found was an old pump spray bottle of ant killer for plants with about two inches of liquid in the bottom. I checked for an expiration date, but no luck.
Hoping that spraying the ants with this ancient chemical wouldn't make them grow to beagle size, I started in on them. Wonder of wonders, it was still potent enough to kill them and not just make them wet and angry. I spent the next couple of hours spraying and then waiting for the next wave to appear. It was like Normandy, except that I was the Kraut bastard in the pillbox staring over the sights of my machine gun, and there were no Captain Miller's in the invasion force.
At 3am, I used paper towels to mop up the last little corpses and sop the last puddles of insecticide from the floor. I also poured the last half inch of poison (that wouldn't pump) into the visible anthole. This afternoon I went out and bought ant baits to put around plus some long lasting ant-killer/repellent.
Nobody interrupts me when I'm watching lesbian vampires! A man's gotta have his limits.
St. Louis Cardinals pitcher Josh Hancock died recently in an auto accident. He rear-ended a tow truck that was stopped in the lane of the road to assist a disabled vehicle. He was driving drunk (almost twice the legal limit), talking on a cell phone, not wearing a seat belt, speeding, and there was pot found in the wreckage of his SUV.
Now his father is suing. First, the bar that served his son alcohol, even though he's been described as a "regular" there. Also named in the lawsuit is the tow truck company and driver, because they should've been professional enough to have already have moved the disabled vehicle out of the roadway. While he's at it, he's suing the driver of the disabled vehicle for failing to maintain it well enough to keep it from breaking down. The vehicle that stalled had spun out after being cut off by another car, barely avoiding an earlier accident.
It's obvious that the dead kid had inherited his father's rotten judgement. I wonder if he was a clueless asshole with a victim-complex too?
A recent idea for a practical joke for when I hit the lottery, but first a quick setup: We live in a townhouse community, and each home is allotted one reserved parking space, with all extra spaces marked as "visitor" (first-come-first-served). Since nearly everyone has at least two cars, the visitor spaces are dear, especially ones near your house.
If I hit the lottery, on a Friday morning as people leave for work, I will call for PODS to be delivered, one for each open visitor space. Imagine the reactions when folks get home for the weekend to find all the extra parking taken up by these portable storage units.
Hilarity ensues.
For some, winning the lottery means they get the chance to buy special gifts for their folks or they can retire or donate big money to a favorite cause. For me, it provides the opportunity to be a prick. Grande.
A nice slideshow of photos of the Team America Rocketry Challenge, from DoD (just click the "next" button at the bottom to scroll through).
Thanks to Pratt Hobbies blog for the pointer!
Last Saturday the finals for this year's event were held. A brief recap for those unfamiliar with it:
Sponsored by the Aerospace Industries Association (AIA) and the National Organization of Rocketry (NAR), teams of students design, build and fly a rocket to meet specific mission goals. This year the goals were:1) get as close as possible to an altitude of 850 feet as measured by an onboard electronic altimeter
2) get as close as possible to a flight duration of 45 seconds, measured from the first motion on the launch pad to the touching down of the payload capsule
3) carry aloft a raw egg and return it unbrokenMore than 600 teams (6000+ kids) from across the US entered and made qualification flights, and the top 100 teams were selected to fly in the finals. The students have to do the work themselves with minimal supervision from the adults. Teams can come from middle and high schools, private schools, home-school associations, and scout, explorer and 4H clubs.
The prizes consist of scholarship money, money for the sponsoring school or group for scientific educational equipment and materials, and more. The purpose of the challenge is to promote an interest in the aerospace sciences as a career choice.
I talked about previous events here: 2006, more 2006, 2005 recap, more 2005, 2004, 2003 (now where did I hide that?), and 2002.
I was at the field at 6:30am and didn't leave until almost 9pm that night, and most of it was spent on my feet. I'm just going to touch on some factoids and memorable moments.
Every year, we've had uber-cool flyovers by military aircraft as part of the opening ceremony. This year, an F117 stealth fighter opened the show. It's bigger than you'd think, a *lot* quieter than you expect, and the head on profile is almost invisible.
England did their first rocketry challenge contest this year, and their winning team was treated to a trip to the colonies to attend our event. Their first place score would have placed them in 5th here, which is no shame at all. Quite a few people from the British embassy were present as well.
There was a contingent from the German aerospace industries, checking out the event with an eye towards holding their own.
Buzz Aldrin attended again this year. He still looks good, he's still a hero.
Among the many, many, many VIP's, the biggest this year was Secretary of Defense Robert Gates. He gave a really nice non-political speech and has lots of serious-looking security agents swarming around him. I was close enough to nod and say hello but I didn't take the step forward to shake his hand.
The winning team was half and half male/female and had an almost perfect score. Lower is better, and theirs was 1.86 (zero is perfect). As a bonus, Raytheon (I think) is footing the bill to send them to the Paris Air Show next month. Raytheon also chipped in an extra five grand in prize money for each of the top three teams.
The skill-level of these kids is improving to the point of near-perfection. I can only remember three flights that were disqualified for safety reasons, and one of them was borderline. For all I know, that one wasn't DQ'd because our main goal is to let the teams win or lose on their own, not because of nit-picky rules violations.
I heard something like "Three years ago, the cutoff to make the finals was 99 points. This year, it was 38." That, my friends, is massive improvelence.
I got sunburned, as usual. Afterwards, we had a catered steak and rib BBQ, and then broke down the range and put away the equipment. At the end of the day I was dog tired yet feeling good.
Instead of sleeping in the next day, I got up early enough to get to the ballpark to watch the afternoon game. More sun, but I remembered the sunblock this time.
Wife Liz said it best... "whirlwind" vacation. We had a great time, but it wasn't chock full o' rest and relaxation, despite my best intentions.
We saw Steely Dan in concert, and it was disappointing. Technically, they were very good (as expected) and very jazzy and improvisational (as expected), but the show was only about a dozen songs, each one stretched out by long solo runs. Liz is a casual fan and she didn't recognize anything they played until the seventh song, which is criminal when you consider how long they've been on the radio. There was almost nothing that you'd consider their "Greatest Hits". I enjoyed the heck out of it and would've been thrilled to see the show in a club, but when I pay concert prices I expect to hear familiar music done well, not the fifth song on side B of their second album from 1973.
As we were in line to get into the concert, they were patting folks down. At their request I started to empty my pockets, and the guy says, "you don't have any knives, do you?"
I said, "yes I do, my Swiss Army knife", and I pulled it out of my back pocket where it almost always resides.
After consultation with the head of security, I was told that I couldn't bring it into the concert arena. Ok, so I left Liz there - let them deal with her wheelchair clogging traffic, they're the ones causing the problem - and ran back to the parking garage to put my knife in the car. Back to the arena and the fool wants to pat me down again.
This time, I said, "excuse me, but I just ran back to my car and put the knife away. Do you really think I just wandered around for 10 minutes before coming back here to sneak in a knife that I voluntarily told you I had when you asked?"
I think that confused him. He waved me through. I didn't even want to get into the whole "weapon vs. tool" debate. Not the time nor place. Besides, only a wuss would classify a Swiss Army knife as a weapon.
I'm now a contributing reviewer over at Joe Horror. New reviews every Monday. Check out my debut on Idle Hands.
We travelled to Staunton to visit daughter Mookie this weekend. She's taking a class on Directing in theatre this term and the final project was an evening of one-act plays. She and the other two young ladies each directed two plays, and it was an enjoyable evening. We were invited to and stayed after for the cast party.
Tomorrow, I work a half day and then the Mrs. and I are off for a week's vacation. I expect I'll have internet access along the way, but mostly I'll be relaxin' and recreatin'.
On Friday, I have a long-assed drive home, just in time to get to the mandatory Friday evening meeting for this year's Team America Rocket Challenge. That happens Saturday (rumor has it that the opening cermony flyby may be an F117 stealth fighter, woot!), and on Sunday I'll probably just do my comatose impersonation.
The sign on the door says "Men's Restroom", yet there's a sign next to the toilet reminding you not to flush your tampons, and a little biohazard box for disposal of things that shouldn't be flushed.
Because even though it's a "Men's Restroom", if that were strictly adhered to the room would be unused 99.5% of the time.
I left the seat up.
Boomshine. An addictive little flashgame with a beautiful musical score. Thanks to the Llama Butchers for pointing this one out.
Meanwhile, over at Random Nuclear Strikes, David attended this year's Boomershoot (follow that link and be sure to check out the second page for more pictures and video). Basically, Boomershoot is an event where you shoot exploding targets at long range. Great fun, and some beautiful gun porn if you're into that sort of thing.
They first tried to pin the blame on Kirk for the assasination of Chancellor Gorkon and later implicated General Chang and Lt. Saavik among others, but recent evidence has surfaced to reveal the true masterminds behind the conspiracy to ignite a war that would span the galaxy.
Hasidic Klingons. Who knew?
Thanks to QandO for pointing this one out!!!
Former President Clinton provided clues for today's NY Times crossword puzzle, and Wonkette was kind enough to get us started.
In keeping with my new motto, "All the news, when I get around to it", I figure I'll post something on the new cold fusion technique later this week. Maybe. I've also got coverage of Lileks' reassignment penciled in for next week. Now, if you're in a hurry or have a thing for "timely" news, well then, I guess you're in the wrong place, eh?
For the third year in a row, my beloved San Jose Sharks choked in the playoffs after having their opponents on the ropes. For sure, the Detroit Red Wings played great, their victory wasn't just handed to them. Too, the Sharks didn't roll over and play dead, it was a hard fought series.
Oh well. The Sharks played a great season, and I'm not forgetting that they're the youngest team in the NHL, including four or five rookies that played prominent roles on the team. They're just going to get better. Still...
Damn.
Ted must be being sarcastic, eh?
Nope.
Not long ago, presidential candidate John Edwards got roundly scolded by many for spending $400.00 for a haircut. This was wrong.
Edwards isn't your average guy, he's running for president of the United States. You and I could run too, but he's a serious candidate. He can't afford a bad haircut because that could (and probably would) destroy any chance he had of getting the Democrat nomination. People would look at him and snicker at the funny haircut, or, if he got it fixed somehow, would wonder why he got it cut so much shorter or made the extreme change. If he's been paying 400 bucks for a snip and is comfortable with the barber, then by all means he should stick with it. There's too much at stake to introduce a variable that could have such a drastic effect on his appearance, especially when he doesn't have to.
As for using campaign donations to pay for his haircuts, I'm trying to figure out why it's a bad thing. Is it the cost? Would there be a problem if it were a $50.00 haircut? People who donate to a campaign expect their candidate to do everything possible to win, and that includes looking good. Haircuts, healthy food, tailored suits, the whole package. So, not only should he keep getting the usual haircut, but if he cut costs during the campaign and goofed it with an unfortunate visit to Floyd, then as a doner I'd be one unhappy camper about it. Him paying out of his own pocket is fine, but I don't see the fuss with him using campaign funds to maintain appearances while he campaigns.
I don't like Edwards as a candidate. I don't much like anything of his positions on any issue (which all seem to involve me bending over so he can drive). But in this case, leave him be.
That's my .02, several weeks late.
Despite rather dicey weather yesterday, Liz and I went to the Potomac Nationals baseball game. Due to the Milbloggers conference in DC and other's schedule conflicts, we already knew that turnout would be light. Light, in this case, equals zero. Nobody else made it.
Along about the 5th inning, a very light drizzle started. A few umbrellas popped up here and there, but it never got worse than a light rain, and even then it was very brief.
The Nats were losing 4-2 at the top of the ninth when Liz and I decided to head for the car. Although we were taking the chance of missing a potential comeback for the home town boys, the thought of enjoying the fireworks from the comfort (and warmth) of our car in the parking lot was just too tempting to pass up. The fireworks once again were spectacular.
Victor and Nic have proposed June 16th for the Nationals vs. the Frederick Keys - in Frederick, Maryland. We'll have to check our calendar, but I'm almost certain that we'll be there for that one.
Today someone trotted out the tired argument about those "evil oil companies and their obscene profits".
Somehow, Starbucks (18.5%) and Google (69%!!!) get a free pass, yet the gas companies are supposed to give away their product because Joe Average doesn't want to pay market prices.
Milk costs a lot. When was the last time you saw a dairy farmer standing out front of the grocery store, giving out free half-gallons because he charges too much for milk?
Obscene prices? Have you seen what "organic" food sells for? Those freakin' hippies are robbing us blind.
DeDoc is the editor of Voices/Future Tense, an online Science Fiction anthology. Issue 5 is up!
I have no problem believing the rest of this video (language alert and adult themes). Besides, who *doesn't* enjoy beating up on ol' Tom Cruise anymore?
Thanks to Owlish, who's back on the blogroll after falling off the radar a while back.
Like they say, the longest journey starts with a single step, and this is a baby step to be sure. Still, it's a start. Measurable progress. And some day, when I rule the world with my invincible army of sharks with frickin' laser beams on their heads, you'll remember this and wonder how you could have been so blind.
I've already decided on my mini-me too.
He's the right shape, and has that vaguely disturbing smile that makes you wonder what he's been up to. I'm not sure about the color though... unless it's because he's jaundiced. Yeah, that's it. Jaundiced, in every sense of the word.
Someday, people.
Dear Baseball Player,
I assume that you get to pick the music that plays when you come up to bat. Please rethink your choice. Do you really want management to hear Dire Straits' Money for Nothing every time you step up to the plate?
Ted
Liz and I went to the Potomac Nationals game last night. Three bucks for parking, dollar admission and dollar hot dogs. Gotta love Monday night games.
For folks planning to attend the game this Saturday (May 5th), we're going to be sitting in section 8, in the handicapped seating. When you get to the stadium, ask for tickets in section 8, right behind the wheelchair spots. Seats in that section are $7.00, which leaves more money for beer. Don't forget the fireworks afterwards.