Bowling for pride

It's been a good, if not somewhat idle, day. It involved three hours of video-game playing and an evening of bowling. As often happens when I bowl with my friends, small wagers are made. They aren't monetary bets, they're more about embarrassment. I once lost a game of bowling and had to serenade a male friend with "Wind Beneath My Wings" outside a bar.
No, I was not drunk.
Unfortunately.

The usual routine is that the first game is a warm-up and then the betting begins. This benefits my friends pretty well because I usually win the first game and then choke under the pressure of a bet. That's how it went tonight -- strong first game, horrible second game. Because I lost the second game, I was going to have to say, during every budget meeting at work until I left: "Well, I would hate to disagree with Capt. Dusty McAwesome* because he's so very smart."
*His real name would have been used in such a scenario.

Luckily, we played a third game and bet again -- If I won, the slate would be wiped clean; if Capt. Dusty won, I would have to mention his superior intellect in the budget meetings and fetch (and pay for) any drinks he wanted from the vending machine during work for the rest of my time here.
Luckily, I fared better under the pressure and won.
Whew.
I'm not Christa -- there's only so much shame I can take...

The verdict

I got the call early this evening while I was at work.

I got the job.

There are still some details to work out, but I accepted and will be headed out to Norfolk, Virginia, sometime in mid-February. (Not quite sure when yet.) And of all the bizarre things, I think the company is going to pay for me to fly out -- again -- for a couple of days so that I can find a place to live.
Coming from a company that won't even pay moving costs for people anymore, I'm not sure I'll be able to adjust to a place that treats its employees and prospective employees so well.
But I'll try.

In the meantime, some interesting Virginia trivia:
The state slogan seems to be "Virginia is for lovers." I think this could bode well for my social life, but probably not.
The state motto is: "Sic semper tyrannis" -- Thus always to tyrants. I have no idea what that means, but I think I might be moving to a state the supports tyranny. Then again, it is a red state....

Waiting

I was supposed to hear about the Virginia job Wednesday. The woman I interviewed with said she would call, but I haven't heard anything yet.

It's the story of my life. Women say they'll call; they never do.

At first I figured maybe she was just busy with work or something. That's understandable. But then I started thinking: What if something happened to her? Or what if she lost my number somehow?
So I decided to send an e-mail. Just a quick note saying hi and wondering if she'd made a decision yet. Nothing big.

No response.

I started to worry. Maybe she was having computer difficulties and couldn't get her e-mail. Or maybe somehow it hadn't gotten through because of problems on my end.

I decided to call her.

Just to be safe, I called her at work AND at home. I didn't get her either place, so I left a message both places:
"Hey, this is Brian. I hadn't heard from you yet, so I was just checking to make sure that everything's OK. I really enjoyed meeting you last week. Anyhow, just in case you lost my contact information, let me give you my home phone number and my work number again...."

An hour later, still nothing.

"Hey, it's Brian again. Is this answering machine working OK? I hope so. I don't mean to keep bugging you, but like I said before, I had a really good time before and I really think things could work out well with this new job. So let me know if you need anything else ... or if you have any more questions for me or anything. Maybe I'll give you my e-mail address again, just in case you need it ..."

An hour after that:
"Hey, it's you know who. Geez, I sure hope you're not dead in a ditch somewhere or something. Anyway, I'm sorry about all the other phone calls earlier. I don't mean to sound too desperate or anything, because I'm not. I just had some down time at work and thought I'd call and all. Anyway, I didn't mean to seem overbearing or anything. Because I'm totally not like that. I'm a really laid-back, easy-going guy, and I really think I'd fit in there and everything. And did I mention ... "

"Uh, hey, it's Brian again. I think your machine cut me off on the earlier message. So, be honest -- is it me? It's me, isn't it? I came on too strong. I tried to play it cool, tried to be all suave and act like I was interested in the job, but not TOO interested. Maybe that was the problem -- I played too hard to get. I didn't mean to be aloof. I really was interested. I swear. And I thought there was a connection there. Didn't you feel it, too? You felt it, right? ... Right?"

An hour later:
(sobbing) "Whatever I did to offend you, I'm sorry. Please, just talk to me. We can work this out, I swear we can. Just tell me what I did wrong and how I can fix it, and I'll do it. I promise. What can I do? Please, just talk to me. Just give me a call. Hey, here's my number again...."

Another hour passes:
(Drunkenly) "Dooo yooouuu think you're better than me?!?! Is that it?!!? You think you'rrrreee bettteerrrrr than meeeee????" (click)

Well, at least that's the way it happened in my head.
We'll see how tomorrow goes.

I'm back

Sorry it's been so long. A few highlights from my trip to Virginia:

I've decided I really don't like flying. It's just terribly inconvenient, and the airlines have made it worse by stripping out all the amenities. Arm rest radio? Gone. In-flight movies? Gone on most of the flights. Meals? Gone. I'm stuck with cramped seats, a small bag of pretzels and a drink. And delayed flights. Out of the four flights I had to take last week, three of them were late. We sat on the runway for a long time in Duluth, which in Detroit left me with about 10 minutes to dash from one gate to my connecting gate in a totally different terminal. (Original layover time, about 45 minutes.) I got there about two minutes before they closed the doors.
My luggage, however, did not make the trip.
Luckily, I got it late that night.
The trip back was no better. A delayed flight out of Norfolk left me with 10 minutes again to catch a flight in a different terminal. My saving grace this time, it ended up, was that my connecting flight wasn't even ready to board by the time I got there. I got into Duluth an hour late. It's no wonder so many airlines are going bankrupt.

The interviews went well and I had a good time in Norfolk. The weather was the most talked about thing while I was there. I apparently brought the cold weather with me. They were having a cold snap -- a high of about 30. The people there seemed to think this was freakish. I politely tried not to laugh in their faces. It was in the upper 20s today in Duluth and I went out with just a sweatshirt. (Well, pants, too.)

I got a haircut while I was out there. It was the morning before my interview, and I decided just to do something totally different -- I didn't really care what. I normally keep my hair short, but I had been growing it out for awhile, more out of laziness than anything else. So I just told the stylist to do whatever she thought would look good as long as it wasn't too crazy and I would have some hope of re-creating it the next morning.
When she was done, she had, unbeknownst to her, given me the exact same haircut I had when I kept it shorter. She asked what I thought; I just said, "Works for me."
Like they say: If you love a haircut, let it go. If it comes back to you, it's yours forever.

Dear Netflix

Dear Netflix,
There's no easy way to say this, so I'll just come right out with it:

I think we need to go our separate ways.

I'm sorry to be so blunt. But it's not you, it's me. I know people say that all the time, but it really is true. I just couldn't put the time into the relationship that it needed. I mean, we've been together for what -- three months? And I've only watched five movies. It's not fair to either of us for me to put so little effort into this.

I appreciate how hard you've worked to keep us together though. You gave me the discount price when we first hooked up. (I don't mean that to sound so dirty.) And then you lowered your price, when you knew you had competition that could lure me away. And when I told you that it was over, you even offered me a deal -- something that would require less commitment -- fewer movies per month for an even lower price. But I think it's better if we just walk away.

Plus, and I'm reluctant to tell you this but I will in the interest of being totally honest: There's someone else. It's Gamefly. Sure, I've been ignoring its video games lately, too, but I'm going to try to stick with it and make it work.

I'm sorry that we can't do that same.

So thanks for the memories Netflix -- the good ones, like "Run, Lola, Run" and "Seven," and even the bad ones ("The Fearless Vampire Killers" was pretty horrible, wasn't it?). I'm sorry we couldn't make it work, but I wish you the best. And maybe, somewhere down the road of life, when I've moved and have less of a social life and more free time than I've got now, our paths will cross again. I know -- it makes it sound like I'm using you. But I know you're just in it for the money, so I don't think you'll mind.

Brian

Spam-tastic

The other day I got the following e-mail with the subject line "Protect your community!" It's so good, I have to share it:

Hello,

We're emailing you to let you know that with terrorism on the rise, a bunch of new jobs in law enforcement just opened up. We need smart and good people, like yourself, to join the team to protect America. If you're interested, we recommend that you sign up to get some information on how to get started in a Criminal Justice education program:

(link removed because it's probably not a good idea to go there)

If you're already set in your current career, maybe you could pass this message on to someone else who is down on their luck, but is interested in keeping our land free from fear. This should be somebody you trust!

- Eric "Bull" Sanders
Counter-Terrorism Recruiter

Sometimes you just need a little push

"God's given me a gift. I shovel well. I shovel very well."
-- The Shoveler ("Mystery Men")

It snowed a lot today. By early afternoon when I went to work there was a least 6 inches of snow with plenty more on the way. (By the evening, I think we had gotten about a foot.) My apartment building's parking lot had not been plowed at all. There were trucks getting stuck in the parking lot, so I didn't figure that my Saturn stood much of a chance. But the little car that could managed to make it out of the parking lot only to find that the streets had also not been plowed. (The city decided one of the ways it could save money was to scale back the snowplowing budget. Stupidest decision ever.) So driving was a mess. The normally 10 minute drive into work took me an hour. Traffic was backed up, cars couldn't get up the hills (of which there are many in Duluth) and there was just general chaos on the roads. I finally found a place to park and got into work where we soon found out that our newest copy editor couldn't get to work for her first day -- her car was stuck in the snow. So Capt. Dusty McAwesome and I decided to ride to the rescue. Upon seeing that we were leaving, two co-workers asked us to help push their cars out of the snow so they could leave. So the four of us ventured out into the snow. After half an hour or so, we had pushed and shoveled both guys' cars out of the snow. I'm getting so much practice at this, I'm thinking of going into the private sector. Half an hour after that, we had picked up our co-worker and, with only a bit of pushing, gotten back to work.

Speaking of work and the weather, I'm headed out to Norfolk, Va., early next week for an interview at The Virginian-Pilot. A friend of mine, either as encouragement or to cruelly taunt me, sent me the weather report for Norfolk. The comparison for the next several days goes like this:

Duluth
Thursday: -2/-28 (Wind chill Thursday and Friday night expected to be about 50 below)
Friday: -12/-23
Saturday: -9/-19
Sunday: -3/-14

Norfolk
Thursday: 72/62
Friday: 65/32
Saturday: 48/32
Sunday: 49/33

I can't decide if Mother Nature is doing this just to screw with me before I leave or if it's simply an encouragement because, really, humans shouldn't live in places where you can die in 10 minutes outside. This is weather for polar bears, not people.

Correction

Monday's post incorrectly stated the Bush administration's stance on events in the Darfur region of Sudan. The administration has referred to it as a genocide.

BriGuy regrets the error.

Slippery slopes

I'm a little sore today. I suppose repeatedly throwing yourself down a hill on top of an inner tube will do that, but I don't think tubing should really take much of a physical toll. I suppose my aches attest to either the surprising physical demands of tubing or just how out of shape I've become. I've got a hunch as to which it is, though...
I was surprised to learn when a group of us went tubing (sledding down a hill on an inner tube, for those unfamiliar with it), that two of my friends had never been sledding. It makes sense I guess -- one grew up in a place without much snow, the other grew up in a very flat state -- but it's always surprising to discover that someone has never experienced something that seems so intrinsic to my own childhood. I'm happy to report that, despite their initial trepidation, they both enjoyed it.

On a completely separate topic, the relationship between some in the media and the government is getting entirely too cozy for comfort. Much of the media was already criticized (and rightly so) for not questioning the government very hard about post-Sept. 11 actions and the lead-up into the war in Iraq. Now it seems that coverage of domestic issues is being driven by the government sometimes as well. A well-known conservative pundit, Armstrong Williams, was recently discovered to have been paid by the government (that would be with your money, taxpayers) to promote the No Child Left Behind law, which he did. (For the story, click here.) The government has also, on at least two occasions, distributed government-created news stories for TV that are intended to look like normal TV news stories and don't include any indication that the source is the government that was promoting what the story was about. Some TV stations even ran this propaganda for reasons I cannot begin to fathom. While these actions are unethical at best and possibly illegal on the government's part, just as much blame falls to Armstrong and any TV stations that decided to broadcast the government's news stories. The media as a whole has enough credibility problems as it is without having our opinions for sale or mindlessly running government propaganda.

Follow-up

On the radio I just heard an ad for UNICEF's relief efforts for the tsunami victims. At the end it said, "Let's create a tsunami of hope." I couldn't decide if that was poor taste or simply an incredibly bizarre decision on the part of the ad writers, but either way, it didn't exactly make me want to run out and create my own natural disaster of goodness.

I should also add, in reference to my last post, that I do believe the tsunami victims need every bit of help they're getting. The death toll (now at more than 150,000) could easily double if disease begins to spread from lack of clean water and medical supplies. So obviously much help is needed quickly. But if the world can pull together for this, why do we have such a hard time with other things? True, we can't pour money into the scores of problems that need fixing, but we could try focusing on one or a few at a time. It also seems like the region plays a lot into how much attention problems get. Africa, especially, tends to be largely ignored. The Rwandan genocide, the mass deaths in Sudan (we're still not calling that genocide), the AIDS crisis -- all went or continue to go without much notice. There was a recent article about the deaths in Congo and their outlook on the world's generosity to the tsunami victims while they watch 1,000 people, mostly children, die every day from war-related disease and starvation.

Disaster relief

A friend has touched on this on her blog, and I, too, have found it interesting how so much generosity and motivation can be gathered to help those affected by natural disasters but so little for so many other worthy causes, even some that would cost much less to make a significant impact. Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled to see how much money has poured in to relief efforts worldwide, but I thought Nicholas Kristof made some good points in his syndicated column, so I highly recommend reading it.

ABC, I love thee

Despite that Wednesday is the start of my work week, Wednesday is now officially the best day of the week. "Lost" is back into new episodes and "Alias" has begun its season. Bring on the tropical polar bears, butt-kicking spies and more intrigue than a mysterious dinosaur-type thing could chew -- I'm ready for my J.J. Abrams high and hope I never come down....

A recap

A synopsis of what's been going on the past few days in my not-terribly-exciting life:

We had an ice storm in Duluth that encased my car in several centimeters of ice. For what felt like the umpteenth time lately, I had to rely on a co-worker to get me to work. The driver's side of the car was frozen solid. I could get in on the passenger side but couldn't see out of the car at all. In the middle of trying to scrape the ice off the back windshield, my ice scraper snapped in half.
If you've never experienced an ice storm, it's difficult to describe just how bizarre it is. The first time I saw one was in college, and I found myself somewhat bewildered after I slipped and fell on my butt -- while walking on mulch. Everything gets coated in ice -- my car antenna, for example, became a rod of ice; flags became anchors that dragged down the ropes they were on; power cords and trees dip or fall; everything just gets this coating of ice on it. So despite all the major problems that ice storms cause, I've always found them kind of intriguing.
But after spending an hour chipping my car out of its icy shell Friday, I have been cured of this fascination. Thank you, Mother Nature.

Because of the ice, we had a couple of power hiccups at my apartment. I think one of these screwed up my cable modem because I hadn't been able to get online since Thursday. I spent an hour on the phone with my cable company yesterday trying to get it fixed, with the other guy saying things like, "Huh. That's weird" and "Gee, I don't know why it's doing that. I've never seen that before." All things you really want to hear from an IT person. But after trying a bunch of different things, we finally got it up and running. Then, after I hung up, I realized my router was also screwed up.
I finally fixed that this afternoon on my own and have, once again, joined the online world.

I spent most of New Year's Eve at work and got a great deal of enjoyment out of watching our local celebration held at the DECC, which is broadcast live on one of the local news channels. They do this every year -- the anchors dress up like they're going to prom and make inane conversation and harass party-goers into answering questions like, "How long did it take you to get ready tonight?" and "What's the best part of this party?" Last year, I saw one of the TV people interviewing her own family. I feel sorry for them because I don't envy trying to fill air time on live TV, especially at what appears to be the nation's most boring New Year's Eve party, but they do this every year, so you'd think they'd have a better feel for it by now. And nothing can excuse the greatest TV moment of 2004, which happened last night when one of the news guys said to a woman he was interviewing: "It looks like you've been to the buffet tonight." (No, she was not holding food at the time.)

After this must-retch TV, I headed to the McAwesome household to play a too-long game of Trivial Pursuit with a bunch of friends and to play video games until 5 in the morning. A perfect start to the new year.

I don't usually make New Year's resolutions because I figure that the other 364 days of the year are just as good a time to make a new start or resolve to do better, but this year, I'll make a couple that I figure should be pretty easy to keep:
1) Find a new job.
2) Play more video games.

Happy New Year, gang.

A laundry list of possibilities

I went into the laundry room this evening and at least one of the fluorescent lights is on its way out so the lights were blinking, giving off a strobe-light effect. This led me to believe one of three things was about to happen:
1) I was going to have a seizure doing laundry.
2) I was going to bust out some crazy cool dance moves that benefit from a strobe light and turn the laundry room into the best dance club in town.
3) An alien was going to jump out from behind the dryer and kill me.

At any rate, laundry night just got a lot more interesting.

On the road again

I had been without a car for four days as of today.
Well, I wasn't exactly without it. It was there, sitting in the parking lot of my apartment building, hibernating beneath a blanket of snow.

On Friday, I went out to the car to head into work.
It wouldn't start.
Now, my car and I have a pretty good relationship. I've put it through a lot in the five years or so that I've had it -- criss-crossing Kansas more than any car or human should on 11-hour trips between Denver and Columbia, Mo.; road trips around the Midwest; and sticking it in the middle of what might as well be the Antarctic for the past three winters -- but I think we're stronger for it. We've only really had two major spats: Once, when I left the headlights on when taking a nap at a rest stop and killed the battery -- my fault. And once, when it refused to start right before my friend Jeff's wedding -- not my fault.
Now I should mention that the night before my car failed me, the temperatures got down to about 20 below. The connection between these two events was not lost on me.

There are two funny things you'll notice about people and their cars up here if you're not from the area:
1) Many cars have extension cords hanging out of the hoods. This is to plug in their batteries to keep them from freezing overnight, I learned.
2) Many people will leave their car running in a parking lot. I've been out to eat with people who will just leave their car on so that it stays warm and doesn't stall.
To most people, these seem like odd things, but around here, it's pretty common. However, I'd gotten through two winters and this one so far without any more than some grumblings from my car. I had already promised it a warmer climate as soon as I can find a new job. So I was a little surprised when it wouldn't start. The battery wasn't frozen -- the radio and lights still worked. I thought maybe whatever it was would just need to some time to thaw. Although since we're not going to hit temperatures above freezing anytime soon, my wait-it-out strategy didn't have a lot going for it. But it was Christmas weekend so I didn't have a lot of choice but to rely on the generosity of a few friends to chauffeur me to work and back. Besides, it was inching above 0 degrees, and I figured that had to count for something.

I tried to start the car a couple of times every day over the weekend, to no avail.
Finally, this morning (Monday), I called my insurance company to get a tow truck to take me to a nearby repair shop. A guy at the shop had said it might be a flooded engine, in which case the spark plugs would have to be replaced and the oil maybe changed. All in all, it would be about $50.
When the tow truck arrived, the guy listened to me try to start it, agreed about the engine being flooded (through no fault of my own, it should be added; he said that just happens sometimes in cold weather with four-cylinder engines). But his solution was much simpler and cheaper -- press the gas and keep trying to start it until it burned off the extra fuel. Sure enough, five minutes and $0 later, I had a working car.

I guess sometimes Santa drives a tow truck and delivers his gifts a little bit late.

Merry Christmas!

It's no letter from Klaus, but in honor of the day, I present one of journalism's finer pieces of work, which appeared in the New York Sun more than a century ago.

We take pleasure in answering thus prominently the communication below, expressing at the same time our great gratification that its faithful author is numbered among the friends of The Sun:

Dear Editor,
I am 8 years old. Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus. Papa says, ``If you see it in The Sun, it's so.'' Please tell me the truth, is there a Santa Claus?
Virginia O'Hanlon
115 West Ninety-Fifth Street

Virginia, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men's or children's, are little.
In this great universe of ours, man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.
Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy.
Alas! How dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus! It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginias. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The external light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.
Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies. You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas Eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if you did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see.
Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.
You tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived could tear apart. Only faith, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond.
Is it all real? Ah, Virginia, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding. No Santa Claus! Thank God! He lives and lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay 10 times 10,000 years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.

Blogger beware

Today, some news from the blogging world:
The St. Louis Post-Dispatch suspended a features reporter and seized his computer after an article was published in the Riverfront Times (employer of the lovely K-Mac) about his blog (which was written under a pseudonym). The full article can be found here. He commented a lot on stories he wrote and people at the paper.
Food for thought.
Also interesting, is this commentary on the incident.

Speaking of media, a good column from the Baltimore Sun talks about how the media has failed the public. This is an excerpt:

Journalists have allowed political operatives to successfully control what is discussed and how it is discussed. TV programs that pit an extremist on the left against an extremist on the right have made it clear there is no room for moderate voices. Walter Cronkite used to be the most trusted journalist in America. Now Jon Stewart - a comedian with a "fake news" show - may be. President Bush invaded Iraq on false pretenses, and many in the news media not only didn't question his assertions but served to legitimize them. The Patriot Act, which authorizes serious abridgments of civil liberties, was enacted and allowed to continue with hardly a whimper from the institutions that depend on the First Amendment for their existence. . . . Pursuing these kinds of stories takes time, energy and sources. It is fueled by a healthy skepticism from reporters and courage on the part of editors. And it requires that government be sufficiently in awe of the power of the press so that it provide answers and access. Instead, we have too many reporters who believe it is their job simply to quote what people tell them - who think being "investigative" is getting a conflicting quote.

If you want to read the whole column, click the link above. (If you don't want to register, you can use the user name and password ''commonbriguy.'')

I've got style

Further proving how much of a geek I am, I bought the 2004 edition of the AP stylebook at the bookstore tonight. For those not in the biz, the AP stylebook is essentially the copy editor's Bible. We reference it for spellings, usage and other style related questions. The store didn't have the spiral-bound kind, which was a disappointment, but I was still pretty psyched to get a copy.
Of course the first thing I did was check the beginning to see what the new or altered entries were. Several of the changes were sorely needed. AP just finally got around to acknowledging ATMs, Bosnia-Herzegovina, Sacagawea (you wouldn't believe the debates I've had about how to spell her name; there are about five ways to do so), SARS, Scud missiles and Serbia-Montenegro.
The AP has also finally wised up and changed its preference on not guilty/innocent. It had preferred using "innocent" to guard against the word "not" being dropped from "not guilty," which was a pretty silly reason once we stopped manually putting type on the pages.
AP also continues its inconsistent rulings. Under "headquarters," it clearly states that you shouldn't use the word as a verb (e.g. The company is headquartered in New Orleans). But then, as the Associated Press often does, it violates its own rule under the new Humane Society entry, in which it says that the organization is "headquartered" in Washington.
It also still insists on not really embracing some of the world's new-fangled technology. DVD is acceptable on first reference in most stories but should be spelled out somewhere in a story "in which the context may not be familiar to readers." I have no idea in what kind of stories "digital versatile disc" will be more familiar to readers than "DVD," but OK, AP....
Although that's not nearly bad as the entry on VCR, which AP still insists should be called a videocasette recorder the first time you mention it.
That's just ridiculous.

Tremble in fear ...

... of so many disjointed thoughts thrown helter-skelter into one blog post.
1) I can't believe that Jeff Probst is dating Julie from the latest edition of "Survivor." Actually, I should say that I can't believe Julie would date Jeff (I totally understand Jeff's decision). I mean, did she see the total cheesiness that consumed the last episode? Julie, if you date me, I promise that I will never be shown on television chopping my way through the jungle with a machete all night to a waiting plane, skydive out of that plane over the desert, hop on a motorcycle and then ride it to a television studio. I will also never let Sarge wear that shirt he wore for the final vote ever again.
2) I just got my Electronic Gaming Monthly magazine and it has an ad glued to the cover. It's designed like the cover, as if the magazine were all about this particular video game, but it's just a fake attached to the real cover.
This disturbs me. It's like when they try to make newspaper ads that look like news articles. I hate that.
3) I've just finished reading a great book, and begun another. Both are about a couple of Jewish boys growing up. "The Adventures of Kavalier and Clay" by Michael Chabon is set against the backdrop of World War II and talks a lot about the golden age of comic books. (It's fiction, but contains a lot of actual events and people.) Thanks to Amber for recommending it some time ago and to Capt. Dusty McAwesome for loaning it to me. The other book I've just begun is about the life of Jesus ... as told by his childhood pal Biff (again, thanks to Amber for the recommendation). "Lamb" by Christopher Moore (who also has a new book out -- "The Stupidest Angel") is a slightly more irreverent book. It starts with Biff meeting Jesus for the first time at the age of 6. Jesus has a lizard hanging out of his mouth, which he hands to his younger (half-)brother, who plays with it and then smashes it with a rock. The dead lizard is handed back to Jesus, who puts it in his mouth, and then takes it out again, alive and well ... only to be smote by the younger brother again. And so the cycle repeats itself.
So yeah, it's that kind of book.
4) If you're not familiar with Duluth, I live in a frozen wasteland. My apartment parking lot, which has the misfortune to be on the north side of the building and thus in the shade all day, has become an ice skating rink. For awhile, when it occasionally bumped above freezing, it would turn into a slush pond, but now, it's just sheer ice over the entire thing. I imagine it won't melt until July.
Naturally, the weather is a bit of a hindrance in getting people to come work here. Capt. Dusty McAwesome was talking to a job candidate for one of our open positions this afternoon when she suddenly asked about the weather. It's cold, he told her. (She's from Alabama, so this was going to be a major issue.) She mentioned that she was applying at a paper in Florida and that it was 70 there. Dusty said, "Well, yeah, it's like that here, too. Just drop off the zero."
She suddenly seems to have lost interest in the job.
We all told him he should have tried to spin it better. (It's still several hundred degrees above absolute zero, as he likes to say.)
5) Speaking of work, I've found my vehicle to fame. Some time ago, I was asked to be in a commercial for the paper that was promoting this daily deal thing the paper is doing. I play a husband sitting at the breakfast table with his wife, who has been cutting holes out of his paper everyday, much to his dismay. I only had one line but had to convey a number of emotions through facial expressions. I call this "emoting." I haven't seen the commercial yet, but I believe they rushed it onto TV so that it would be eligible for the coming Oscars and/or Emmys. So keep an eye out for me on the red carpet.

It's not mine

Sorry it's been awhile since I've posted; it's been a hectic week. I've managed to procrastinate quite well about critiquing papers for the Virginian-Pilot, where I'm applying for a job. I'm also way behind on sending Christmas cards.
But enough excuses, there are several things I'd like to blog about, but I'll start out with this:
I don't usually remember my dreams, so I always find it interesting, if not bizarre, when I do remember snippets. Last night, I dreamt I was being sentenced for using drugs. I'm not sure what kind of drugs, and I didn't remember ever using drugs or being convicted on the charge, but here I was being sentenced. I didn't fight it too hard, only saying, "I have no idea how to prove that I didn't do something." So the judge sentenced me to forking over half my salary for the rest of my life. (It should be noted that I'm pretty sure the court proceedings were taking place in a one-room schoolhouse, so in retrospect, I'm not sure they were entirely legit.) I complained about the unfairness of the restitution with the plea: "But I work at a newspaper. I barely make enough money as it is. If I have to pay half my salary, I won't have enough money to live."
The judge -- who I vaguely remember as being a friend, but I'm not sure who -- didn't care.
I think I like it better when I don't remember my dreams. My subconscious is seriously disturbed.