the otis G experience

Milk, Cigarettes, and Wedding Rings

2010-06-15T18:49:00.000-07:00

Once in awhile, I'll cruise the local pawn shops at lunchtime with my buddy Boggs. He's always in search of music gear, and I'm always in search of life's meaning.

A couple days ago, we stopped into Axel's Pawn Shop on Sprague Avenue. A couple walked in the same time as we did, the guy holding a motorcycle helmet. They approached the man behind the counter.

"Any chance we can sell this helmet? We need to get milk. And cigarettes."

"Sorry," the man replied, "We're loaded up on helmets right now." The couple gave each other a frantic look, and then the woman said, "How about my wedding ring?"

"Sure, let's take a look," the man said as he leaned over the counter. "Yeah, I'll give you (whatever) for it."

"Great!" the husband exclaimed. "That's perfect! Now I can still ride my motorcycle!"

Boggs and I left... neither of us finding what we were looking for.

To Scream or Ask Not to Scream

2010-05-14T11:54:00.000-07:00

At my son's Little League game yesterday, I witnessed a scenario that I found somewhat interesting.

Another kid on our team got out. He immediately started to throw a fit, and was escorted out of the dugout to an area adjacent to another field. Once there, he proceeded to spend... oh, about 10 minutes or so... wailing. He kept ranting "I ALWAYS get out!" accompanied with a "Give me attention!" cry, which was working. At one point, a woman at the adjacent field had had enough. She came over and politely said, "Honey, if you want to cry, maybe you should move away from the fields. It's distracting to the other players." Mom #1 exploded with, "You don't talk to my son like that!", and the other woman responded by going back to the other field. Mom #1 starting pacing around and ranting herself, saying things like "If she thinks THAT'S bad, I should make him REALLY cry!" Eventually, the howling kid received a stern talk from his coach about being a "big boy", and he was escorted to the parking lot. Situation... settled? Not quite.

The other woman apparently felt guilty about saying anything in the first place. Later, she walked by, and made a point of apologizing to Mom #1. Mom #1 wouldn't take it, as she was just "too offended". The other woman gave up, and started walking towards the parking lot... at which point Mom #1 belted, "It's a baseball game, not the library!" Well, that's true... but part of playing baseball is being a good sport, of which her son was definitely not.

All of this makes me think about how I handle my own kids, and what I hope to see from other people's kids.

First of all, I've never allowed my kids to misbehave in a public place. If we're in a restaurant, I take them outside. I know I don't like listening to other kids cry when I'm enjoying a meal out, so I don't expect anyone else to have to listen to mine. In the grocery store? Take them outside until they calm down. And if they don't? Go home, and come back for your stuff later. I also struggle with wailing kids in churches, movies, or other sit-down public events. The parents are spending so much time fussing with them, they're not even aware of what's going on. So why go? It never really seemed that big of a deal to me to just remove them from the situation.

Now, back to the game scenario... I could never do what the other woman did. I would never have the gumption to actually say something. I just grin and bear it, and hope that they eventually stop. I also think it was quite admirable on her part to go apologize, feeling full well (I'm sure) that she was right. Still, I don't blame her for saying something. Quite frankly, I was tired of listening to him wail myself.

I guess my question is... who was out of line? What's more obnoxious, letting your kid scream, or telling someone else's screaming kid to stop? I'm a bit biased, as I'm fairly militant about disciplining my kids. I'm curious what the common consensus would be.

And one disclaimer: I'm not claiming my kids are always perfect angels; as they also have their moments. This thought is more about what you allow them to get away with in public.

Saga of a Broken Leg

2010-04-26T20:21:00.000-07:00

When I was younger, I told myself that I'd skateboard forever. It stemmed from a fear of growing up; as if stepping off that skateboard would mean I was suddenly old. I made a pact with myself that I would continue doing it as long as I was physically capable. One day, I found myself in my mid 30's. My skateboarding days were long gone, and I actually felt a little guilty, like I had cheaped out.

Last November, I decided to go see my buddy Brent in Nashville, Tennessee. He'd ventured to North Idaho many times; one visit even lasted a few years. But, nobody had returned the favor by going down there, so I figured it was time. It turned out to be a great trip, complete with civil war battlefield visits, a night in downtown Nashville, and even a leisurely drive across the beautiful Tennessee countryside. The night before I was due to fly back home, Brent asked if I'd like to check out the Nashville skatepark.

It was time to revisit that childhood promise I had made with myself.

I wasn't any good anymore, but hell... I could do it, and I was having a great time. We skated until the park was due to close in a few minutes. I was determined to stick that 50-50 grind... a trick that was so easy when I was younger. I went for that infamous "last try"...

I'm still not sure why, but my board flipped out from under me. When I hit the transition, I felt something slide in my knee. As I lay there assessing the situation, Brent asked what I thought was wrong. At that point, all I knew was that it felt really weird... and my foot was pointing in the wrong direction.

"I think my knee came out of joint. Maybe I can twist it back."

"Dude... if you can get yourself out of this pool, then I could get you to the hospital... and you won't have to pay for an ambulance."

I was immediately feeling the weight of hospital bills. Skipping the ambulance sounded good, so I did probably the worst possible thing - and tried twisting my leg back into joint. After feeling a couple snap crackle pops, I decided that probably wasn't a good idea.

"I'm not going to make it out. Call 911."

After what seemed like an eternity, Nashville's finest was on the scene. I was immediately given some morphine (not nearly enough), and strapped to a gurney. It took some effort getting me out, since I was in the bottom of a pool. They even enlisted the help of some straggler skateboarders to help push me out. They slid me into an ambulance, gave me some more morphine, and headed for Summit Medical Center. On the way, all I could think about was how much morphine I'd had, how much my leg still hurt, and hoped that all those shot-up Vietnam vets back in the day had received a way bigger dose than I had.

"Isn't this stuff supposed to make the pain go away?" I asked the emergency tech.

"No," he replied. "It just makes you not care that it hurts."

We made it to the hospital. They immediately took some x-rays, and stuck a needle in my leg to drain all the fluid that was accumulating. I didn't care at this point, as the drugs had finally kicked in. The resulting x-ray didn't look good.

Before saying anything to me, the ER doctor high-fived some other dude, and said, "I knew it! A tibial plateau fracture!" which really meant nothing to me at the time. Apparently, my femur (thigh bone) had pile-drived into my tibia (shin bone) and completely blown my knee apart. Even worse, it had split the tibia like firewood... from my knee to about halfway down my shin. The dark space in the x-ray (outlined by the dashed line) isn't supposed to be there. By this time, it was around midnight. They called a surgeon, and he said that he'd be there in the morning. I was carted to a room, where I immediately called Mavis.

"Hey."

"Hi. What's up?"

"Well... I blew it, Mavis."

"Oh. What's going on?"

"I broke my leg tonight. Skateboarding."

"Oh. Well, I just got back from a debate tournament."

Pause.

"I guess I'm having surgery in the morning. I gotta go."

"Okay. I love you!"

Suddenly, it was morning, and the surgeon had come in. His name was Dr. Cook, and he had a very calming, pleasant demeanor. Honestly, I really have no idea what he said to me, other than I was going in for surgery. All I knew is that I trusted him. They put me out, and after a day-long surgery I woke up back in the room to find Mavis sitting there looking at me. It was almost like she had teleported down there. Dr. Cook came in, and said the surgery went well. I asked for some pictures (kinda hoping for some gory shots of my leg cut open), but instead he brought in the x-ray of my new leg.

It took 2 plates and 15 screws to put me back together again. I immediately felt a little strange, knowing I had a pile of foreign metal objects in my leg. Soon after, the bandages came off and I got my first look at Frankenleg.

I had two huge incisions, around 50 staples, and a gigantic swollen foot that looked a bit like a haggis sausage. I knew I was in for some good times. To make an already long story shorter, I'll sum up my week stay in the hospital:

Having to use a walker instantly makes you feel about 80 years old.

I really don't understand why people steal Oxycontin. I woke up feeling like I had bugs crawling all over me, and saw creepy apparitions all over the place.

Percocet, on the other hand, was a little too wonderful. Mavis did a great job intervening, and I felt like I'd been to rehab about 27 times.

I had one physical therapist who was really pushy about me getting out of bed, and I couldn't do it. I got another one who made me feel like I could do it, and I got right up. Big difference.

I'm not sure how anyone could survive in a hospital room without a loved one. Mavis made all the difference, and guided me through figuring out how to get around (and... uh... do other things!) all over again.

After my extra week of... vacation?... it was time to figure out how to get me home. Remember that movie "Planes, Trains, and Automobiles"? Imagine John Candy's character... only with a broken leg, and that's kinda how it went. We crammed my broken self into a rental car, airport shuttle bus, taxi, train station, and finally into an Amtrak sleeper car. A couple days and several pain pills later, we finally made it home.

A few days after that, I was back at work, lucky to have a desk job.

Around 2 months later, I was down to using a cane.

At 3 months, I started walking on my own, and was able to go to the gym again.

At 5 months, I walked and finished a 3 mile fun run.

Now, I'm approaching 6 months of recovery time. Last weekend, I went on a whitewater rafting trip I do every year and didn't have any problems. I still can't run (or even jog) at this point, but I do feel like I'm easing back into the things I was able to do before.

So... I guess it's time I accept the fact that somehow along the line, I got a little older. But, at least I can now confidently say...

I've officially retired from skateboarding.

And that's okay. :)

Dirty Dogs and White Lies

2010-03-21T21:23:00.000-07:00

I came in through the back slider door, to find Mavis sitting on the couch petting the dog.

"Honey, why is Cleo all wet?" she asked.

I drew a blank. "I don't know."

"Well, it's all over her face...," she retorted as the dog licked hers.

We went upstairs to get ready for bed. She carried up the dog, and said, "Whatever it is, it smells weird and is kinda sticky."

I suddenly realized what it was, and was immediately horrified. It seemed too late to tell the truth, so I replied, "Uhhhh... maybe it's water from the kids' pool behind the shed."

About 10 minutes prior, I had been in the backyard with the dog. There's no easy way to say this... but I have this thing. A guy thing, a freedom thing, a whatever you want to call it "thing."

I like to pee in the backyard.

On this particular occasion, I was in a dark corner of the yard doing my business... hoping the dog was doing hers. I looked down, and realized she was next to me in her pounce position. She had never seen a pee stream before, and was ready to attack it. I shooed her away, and finished up. Afterwards, I went over to the shed to put some tires away. Meanwhile, Mavis had let the dog in. I didn't think anything of it.

By the time I realized what was on her, Mavis had been petting, playing with, and... (gulp)... kissing the dog. I really didn't know how she would react.

"I think I better give her a bath," she said.

While trying to sound nonchalant, I replied, "Ohhh.... yeah! That would probably be a good idea."

She washed her off, and got ready for bed. I slithered in with her, and laid awake for awhile. I really wanted to say something, but by that time it didn't seem to matter anymore. Regardless, I felt very guilty. VERY guilty. I have an insanely guilty conscience.

The next day at work, I told a few people about what had happened. It was a fairly even split over me being a Big Fat Liar (with pants on fire), and it being something that I should NEVER tell her. I was extremely torn.

A few nights later, Mavis and I were driving home from having dinner. As we pulled into our driveway, I blurted out "I THINK I PEED ON THE DOG!"

She stared at me blankly for a moment, and replied, ".....What?"

"The other night, when the dog was all wet... I'm pretty sure it's because she jumped into my pee."

This was possibly going to be a major turning point in our relationship. If she lashed out in anger, I knew I'd forever be perceived as the disguting lying backyard pee-er. If she forgave me, I knew I would be forever grateful and appreciative.

Another milli-second of silent eternity passed, when she suddenly burst out laughing.

I knew immediately I had made the right choice. In many ways.

"Why didn't you just tell me, silly?" she asked. She seemed to find it a little bit cute that I had been so tormented about the whole situation, with an emphasis on "little."

So, we both survived. From now on, I think I'll save the white lies for haircuts, apparel, and ugly babies. :)

Blogfest, 2010!

2010-02-20T22:15:00.000-08:00

I haven't posted for several months, which I kept telling myself was because I was dealing with a broken leg. In reality, it was much deeper. I was coming to grips with several big life changes, and more than anything... I just didn't feel all that interesting.

Today, I attended the Huckleberries Online Blogfest. It's something I've gone to previously, but for whatever reason... this time it felt like seeing an old friend. After hearing kind words from several people that I won't mention (IdahoDad, Cindy H, and MamaJD), I'm inspired to get back into the game.

There were several things I needed to bring with me when we left the house. What better way to remember them than making a list on your hand!

I was determined that the kids and I would ride bikes to get there. We were completely unprepared for how cold it was going to be, but my little guys were tough.

Well, they were mostly tough... until they weren't anymore. We showed up at the Fort Ground about a half hour early to warm up. Luckily, the drink menu included hot chocolate.

Mavis was off coaching a debate tournament, but fortunately it ended early enough for her to come join us.

The blogmeister himself, DFO, was of course on hand (along with Sunny's Mini-Me).

Here's Bent suffering through drinking beer that he didn't personally make...

And old friends Sam and Meghann.

This peculiar fellow kept showing up, but nobody knew who he was. He preferred to remain anonymous.

I thought the Fort Ground staff did an incredible job. They were more than hospitable when we showed up early, and it was obvious that they were excited about hosting the event.

We had a great time. After a cold bike ride, the hot wings were perfect. And for some reason, having a cold beer seemed to warm me up as well.

If only my 'ol buddy Brent from Tennessee had made an appearance...

The Otis G Experience is back online.

I think. :)

Getting Away From Julia

2009-10-19T12:30:00.000-07:00

"Dad, can you make me a shelf or something... so I can put my Lego sets on it?"

It was the exact phrase that I had been wanting to hear from him for years. Enough years that I had forgotten I wanted to hear it.

I loved Legos when I was a kid. I would ride my bike to the old Black Sheep next to Davis Donuts on 4th Street, and spend every penny of my paper route money on new sets. Once home, I would put them together, take them apart, and put them back together again. I would do it so many times, I wouldn't even need the instructions anymore. In fact, I hardly remember even playing with them once they were together. I was more fascinated by how they were built, and looking at them on the shelf.

From the time my son was born, I started buying him Legos. I wanted him to put them together, and cherish them as I did. Much to my dismay, toddlers are more into destruction than construction. Over time, the sets ended up taken apart in a storage bin, mixed up with all the sets from my childhood. We moved. He grew up a little, but still wasn't ready. We moved again. Not ready. His Mom and I got divorced. The Lego bin went into a storage unit, where it stayed for a year. I finally bought my own house, and the Legos surfaced once again. By this time, I had given up (or just plain forgotten) the notion of building the sets to display. Besides, after everything... I doubted the pieces would even all be there.

Before I knew it, my son turned eight. For his birthday, he ended up getting several Lego sets. After putting them together, he decided he didn't want them thrown back in the bin. It was a huge milestone for me. I immediately got him some under-his-bed storage bins, where he could keep the sets together.

This last summer, he got into watching Lego "stop-motion" videos on Youtube. It's the type of thing I would have loved doing as a kid... a way of bringing your Legos to life. One day, he asked if I would set up a camera for him so he could try it out. Here's what he put together, completely on his own:

I was amazed. And super excited. While he was at his Mom's house, I decided to sort out that huge bin of Legos, so that he'd have all the sets to use for making more movies. I don't know how many hours I spent sorting those pieces out, but to be honest... it was really fun for me. Much to my surprise, even my old sets were still in intact. When he came over next, I loved the look on his face when he saw all those sets... new and old... assembled and ready, props to be used for whatever movie he wanted to make.

We worked together on the next one. Starting out, we really didn't have a story in mind. We just played together, and his five year-old sister helped out as well. Once together, we decided on a plot, and recorded the dialogue. Here's how it came out:

There's always a part of us that wants our kids to do the same things we did. Sadly, often times you see parents trying to force their kids into doing the same things they did. I've realized the best thing I can do for my kids is to expose them to as many things as possible, and encourage them in whatever they're interested in. But I will say that it sure is fun when our childhood worlds collide. :)

Spokefest!

2009-09-15T12:11:00.000-07:00

Riding a bicycle for 21 miles used to seem like a long way. I remember riding my bike around the neighborhood, and thinking "Phew! What a workout!"

Times have changed.

A couple weeks ago, Mavis' buddy asked if we'd ride Spokefest with her. After all the riding I've been doing with my new bike, it sounded like a great idea. I also just got a new helmet "action cam" that I figured I'd try out.

The morning of the event was a little hectic, so I ended up attaching the camera at the last minute. Unfortunately, the mount had a bit of wobble to it, and the footage came out a little shaky. Actually, we were having such a great time, I didn't really give much thought to the camera... just as it should be. :)

Here's me a little before Doomsday Hill. You can see the camera under my left hand:

Here's Mavis in the same spot... after getting up at 5:30 A.M., driving to Spokane, playing a tennis match, driving back to Post Falls, getting me, driving back to Spokane, parking, and riding to Riverfront Park by 9:30 A.M.:

She thinks I'm hardcore for biking down hills and off rocks. To me, that seems easy compared to getting up at 5:30 A.M. :)

Peace Out, Bank of America

2009-09-03T12:30:00.000-07:00

I heard that Bank of America is trying to pay back some of the money they received from the bailouts, because they don't want to be under the governments "watchful" eye. Predominately, they still want to be able to pay out-of-touch salaries to executives (read about it here). Hmmm... where are they getting the cash to cover all of this?

I made a few online transfers from my savings into my checking this month. Fairly common occurrence, I would think... and probably doesn't take a whole lot of effort on their part, if any. Today, I check my savings statement, and what do you know:

08/31/09 EXCESSIVE ACTIVITY SERVICE CHARGE -$1.00

Several $1.00 "excessive activity" service charges. For transferring money online.

I know several people who have dumped Bank of America, for various reasons. I think I just found mine.

09/03/09 (EXCESSIVE) EXCESSIVE ACTIVITY SERVICE CHARGE -$ONE LESS CUSTOMER.

Crush the Castle!

2009-08-31T21:14:00.000-07:00

Every once in awhile, you come across an incredibly stupid, senseless, waste-of-time online game... that you just can't stop playing. I feel like putting a link to it on my blog is comparable to offering young kids cigarettes. And there's no patches or gum to cure this addiction. :) I tried embedding the actual game, but the size was all messed up.

Interest # 127

2009-08-28T07:30:00.000-07:00

Like my motto says, I don't really excel at anything... but I'm kinda okay at a lot of things.

I'm adding mountain biking to that list.

I've never had a nice bike. "Nice", as in... anything that cost over about 100 bucks. When I first got together with Mavis, she had a nice bike. I rode it around a bit, and realized something: you get what you pay for. It was light, easy to maneuver, and had gearing that was functional. She was determined that I needed a nice bike, too. Next thing you know, I'm at REI, where they actually measure you for proper bike "fit". I was torn between a road cruiser and mountain bike, so I thought I'd get something somewhat in between. I wanted to be able to cruise with Mavis, but I also have several buddies that are into mountain biking. I ended up getting a Marin Alpine Trail 29er, the 29er meaning it has larger 29 inch wheels (26 inch is standard). It fits my large frame, has super-cool disc brakes, and best of all... feels incredible to ride. Mavis and I have already gone on several bike rides (including the Hiawatha Trail), and are planning on being part of the upcoming Spokefest in Spokane.

Meanwhile, I've been hitting Beacon Hill in Spokane, which is a very well-known mountain biking destination. This week, I talked Mavis into coming with me so she could shoot some video. So, I now present...

Otis G's third time riding Beacon Hill. Otis G's third time mountain biking, actually. :)

Afraid of Living in Fear

2009-08-20T06:53:00.000-07:00

I'm a fairly optimistic person. But somedays, you've just had enough.

Our government just bailed out huge corporations (ultimately keeping the general population in debt), while several good, hardworking people I know are dealing with unemployment, foreclosure, and/or bankruptcy.

People who could afford to buy huge SUV's a few years ago are now being rewarded with brand new cars... while I continue to drive my '87 beater car because it gets good gas mileage. With the knowledge that anyday, it will die on me... forcing me to probably get a loan for a new car.

Our elected officials continue to debate on the best way to NOT provide healthcare. (Check out this hilarious parody at The Onion.)

So what are we left with? Travel! To get away from it all.

I dropped Mavis off at the Spokane airport this morning. Her flight was at 7:15, so of course we had to get up at buttcrack to get her there in time for all the security checks. She had a small carry-on bag, and a book bag. Unfortunately, the carry-on contained several bottles of potentially harmful liquids (shampoo, lotions, etc.)... so she had to check it to avoid throwing it all away. Turns out, the airlines now charge $20 to check a bag in. Which was a substantial portion of the money she had for the entire trip. All to deter terrorists, who if they're determined... will find a way to do what they want anyway. Hell, the current restrictions would have done nothing to stop the guys who instigated 9/11.

So, we continue to live in fear. People have been saying this for quite some time... but I'm finally starting to believe it, too.

Learning to Let Go

2009-07-22T12:49:00.000-07:00

I couldn't wait for the day that my son was old enough to try riding his bike without training wheels. To me, it seemed like one of those "father-son" moments that's imperative to our relationship.

One day, I went to pick him up from daycare, and there he was... riding a bike around the playground - without training wheels. Shocked, I asked his teacher, "When did he learn to do that?" She replied, "Oh! He's been doing that for a couple months now!"

I was devastated. Not only did I miss out on that moment, I also felt like a horrible father for not knowing that he was ready for it. At that moment, I pledged to myself that I wouldn't let that happen again with my daughter.

A couple weeks ago, we all went camping at Farragut State Park... the perfect place to try such a thing. As I watched her cruise up and down the road with her training wheels, I figured she probably wasn't ready. I reluctantly asked her if she wanted to try it, and she excitedly said yes. I wrenched those suckers off, and we were ready to go.

I immediately realized why the bike-riding ritual was so important to me; it's representative of a child's entire life.

I wanted so badly for her to grow up (just a little), but knew I was going to miss seeing my little girl with her training wheels. We started off slow, and made a few passes while I held onto her seat. I could feel her leaning, and sensed that she wasn't ready. At one point, as I will do throughout our lives, I realized what I had to do.

I let go.

And was prepared for her to crash and burn.

When she realized I wasn't there to stop her leaning, she righted herself. Next thing you know, she was riding along... all by herself. I ran alongside, wanting so badly to grab her and make sure she was safe... but I kept a distance, hoping I was close enough to scoop her up if she crashed. She never did. I was so incredibly proud of her...

And at the same time, sad.

I know I will have many such moments with both of my kids, for years to come. All I can do is hope that I will know when they are ready, but most importantly...

Know that sometimes, the best thing you can do for your kids... is to let go. :)

Introducing... The Athletic Wimp.

2009-06-29T12:31:00.000-07:00

I've never been much of an athlete.

As a youngen, my parents signed me up for t-ball. My first time at bat, I hit the ball... and ran to the pitcher's mound. Then to 2nd base. Then to 1st, across to 3rd... and then home.

A couple games later, I really had to pee... but the restrooms were locked. While playing right field, I couldn't hold it any longer and soaked my pants. After the last out, I ran to the dugout and desperately said "Coach! A sprinkler turned on, and got my pants all wet!" He looked me over and said, "Whatever. You peed your pants!" I sat out the rest of the game in the dugout, wishing I wasn't such a wimp. I only played one season.

In flag football, I got the ball for the first time... and ran to the wrong endzone. I wished I wasn't such a wimp, and only played one season.

In middle school gym class, I was usually the last one picked for dodgeball teams. I was tall, lanky, and not exactly aggressive. I was always terrified of getting hit in the face. So, of course, it happened. I woke up flat on my back, with my glasses nowhere in sight. The gym teacher whisked me off to safety, while looking bewildered at how someone could be such a wimp.

In high school, I played the tuba in band. The closest I got to a sporting event was playing the school fight song in the bleachers. I'd watch the guys playing football and/or basketball, the girls oogling over them, and wished so badly I could be them... instead of a wimp.

After graduating, I joined the Marines. I was 6'4" tall, and weighed 143 pounds. Underweight, as it turned out. I was put on "double rations" to bulk up, which meant I had to eat twice as much as everyone else. Of course, this put me in great graces with the fat kids who had to eat cottage cheese... for every meal. One night, while standing in our underwear for hygiene check, the Drill Instructor looked me over. He paused a moment with a confused look on his face, and belted "What the hell, Recruit? What did you think this was... the Peace Corps?!?" I was probably one the few wimps to successfully become a United States Marine, and I was proud.

Recently, Mavis signed us up at a health club. She wanted me to play racquetball with her, clueless to the fact that I would in no way challenge her. Mavis is very athletic, and plays a lot of tennis and basketball. I reluctantly agreed... being a little weary of her finding out what a wimp I am. At first, she went very easy on me (without me knowing) so I wouldn't get overly frustrated. Eventually, I even "won" a couple matches. Over time, I found myself improving to the point that she was actually getting a workout. I really started feeling confident when I could finally return her "signature" serve, that she masterfully hits into the corner right where I can't get it:

Last week, a miracle happened. We hit the court after not having played for awhile, because Mavis was in Arizona visiting her Dad.

Match 1: Mavis won, as usual.
Match 2: I won, by a surprising margin.
Match 3: I narrowly won.
Match 4: Otis G takes it again.
Match 5: Somehow... I won.

I squarely beat her 4 out of 5 matches. I never thought it would be possible, and for the first time I kinda felt like...

An athlete.

I needed my own signature move, and quick. This is all I could come up with.

I still think she's probably holding back a bit. But as long as I win once in awhile, I don't mind.

In the "serve" video, you'll notice how I politely ask her to "not hit me". Some things never change. :)

Neighbors... Being Neighborly?!?

2009-06-24T22:53:00.003-07:00

I came home to find this flyer tucked in my front door:

Holy crap! This is the sort of thing neighbors did back in the... like... 1950's! I hope they have a great party, and as far as I'm concerned... if anybody DOES call the cops, THEY'RE the obnoxious ones. :)

Hiawatha Trail, Back in Action

2009-06-23T12:41:00.000-07:00

Anybody who knows me knows that I have many varied and somewhat eccentric interests.

Occasionally, they slam into each other.

Everytime I drive up the St. Joe River from St. Maries, I try to find hints of the old Milwaukee Road roadbed. A couple weeks ago, I came across this book in the Avery fly fishing shop. It's a guidebook on where to find old Milwaukee Road roadbeds throughout Idaho. Part of this route is now the Hiawatha bike trail, that many know of as an extremely popular all-purpose recreation trail on the Idaho/Montana border. I've ridden it a few times now, and I was initially amazed by the fact that anyone had the gumption to build a railroad there in the first place. Now, it's amazing to me how something so spectacular could suddenly cease to exist... almost to the point of oblivion. This book was an incredible find to me; it not only describes how and why the railroad was built... but describes how to get to everything that's left. Amazing.

Of course, the more I read into the Milwaukee Road... the more I wonder what it was actually like seeing trains carve through the Bitterroots. Today, out of nowhere, I stumbled across this video on YouTube. Some german guy made a computer simulation of a Milwaukee Road train traveling between Avery and St. Paul Pass. It's set to electronic music, of course... those germans just gotta have it. Anyone who's ridden the Hiawatha bike trail will recognize the terrain; I think it's incredibly accurate.

And as if that isn't cool enough, he's also made a version showing the Northern Pacific's route over Lookout Pass. I've always wondered whether or not a railroad went over that pass... and if it did, exactly how. Here it is! I think it's especially interesting at 3:28, where it's traveling through Taft, MT (where you get off I-90 to access the Hiawatha Trail). Up in the distance, you can see the Milwaukee Road roadbed veering into the mountains towards St. Paul Pass. Cool.

Railroad modeling, the St. Joe River, and techno music. Who knew? :) That "german guy" has a MySpace page, with even more virtual tours of the Milwaukee Road and other stuff.

Otis G's Guide to Stopped Freeway Traffic

2009-06-22T21:02:00.000-07:00

No need to memorize; it happens automatically.

Wonder why semi trucks are driving slowly with their flashers on. Assume that they're confused, and speed around to pass.

Nearly slam into the stopped vehicle in front of you.

Watch vehicles scatter to avoid any possible delay. This includes SUV's and trucks scaling on (and off) ramps and cars crossing the median to turn around. Some just pull over in instant defeat.

Merge into the left lane, because everybody else is.

Get irritated by the people flying by in the right lane, while wishing you were doing the same thing.

Get even more irritated at the people who let them in.

Let someone in from the right lane.

Realize there really was no reason to get in the left lane.

Watch emergency vehicles speed down the shoulder, and wish you could do the same thing.

Feel like the other lane is moving faster, regardless of which lane you're in.

Consider taking an exit. Decide not to, and then immediately wish you had. Repeat at the next exit.

Listen to people honking, and wonder what they possibly hope to accomplish in doing so.

Get extremely agitated when you realize the accident is on the other side of the freeway, and the only reason your side is backed up is from people gawking.

Gawk.

Speed away.

Craving Chaos, In Search of Silence

2009-06-03T12:30:00.000-07:00

The radio in my beater commuter car sucks.

I'll be cruising down the highway, singing along with a song, when wham!... it goes dead like it was thrown in a bathtub. It's always temporary, sometimes it comes back on later that day... sometimes it takes a couple days.

I live in Post Falls, my kids go to school in Spirit Lake, and I work in the Spokane Valley. Four times a month I pickup/drop off my kids in Spirit Lake, which ends up being about an hour and a half commute each time. That doesn't include any additional trips to attend baseball games, dance recitals, and everything else parents want to be a part of.

As a result, I do a lot of driving. When my radio first started crapping out, it drove me insane to drive in silence. It felt very disconcerting. Over time, however, I realized what was starting to happen: I was forced to think about things. Sometimes, I'd even find myself talking out loud... as if I was discussing the things I was thinking about, with the person whom it was regarding.

Every time I caught myself doing it, I immediately stopped. In our society, when we think of people talking to themselves, we instantly view them as crazy. I'm fairly confident that I'm not crazy, and even if I am... I don't care. It was highly therapeutic, and helped me work out a lot of stress that I was going through. We all know that writing thoughts down can help get it out of our head... so why wouldn't saying it out loud have the same effect?

It did for me.

All of this brings me to a thought on basic human behavior: Everyday, we are surrounded by chaos. Hectic work places. Busy schedules. Negative news. And... we all hate it. About the only thing that gets us through is the idea that someday, somehow, we'll find a way to "get away from it all". Spend an afternoon at the ocean, hike to a secluded mountain lake, or hang out in the backyard for a lazy weekend.

So... if peace and quiet is what we're longing for... then why do we surround ourselves with chaos? We even do it when we have the occasional opportunity for peace. Many people leave their TV on all the time, for the noise. We crank the music in our cars, to keep our brains occupied. We schedule out every spare second of our lives.

Why? To keep from actually thinking about, or dealing with anything?

We surround ourselves in chaos, while searching for silence.

Now, I find myself enjoying my peaceful commutes. I've also found that with the radio off, I'm more apt to have conversations with whoever is in the car. Something else people tend to try and avoid.

And yeah, okay... I'll admit it. I still wish I had a car radio that works. :)

Who Needs the Month of May?

2009-06-01T16:45:00.001-07:00

I just realized I didn't post a single thing in May. Oops. I've got a lot of stuff coming up, bear with me... including some new tunes from the latest 40 ounce J lineup. Wait till you hear Mavis sing our punk rock version of the song "Angel of the Morning"...

Gotta Love Facebook

2009-04-30T09:11:00.001-07:00

I got a new friend request today, with the attached message:

"Hey you! This is (so-and-so)! Remember me? We went to high school together. We were friends... I think."

I confirmed the request, of course. I'm excited to reminisce about all the old memories...

If we have any.

She Wore a Pearl Necklace

2009-04-08T12:50:00.001-07:00

Following my recent teaching experience, I still have one part of the ordeal stuck in my head:

When did kids become so rotten?

I was assured that the class I taught is a "fun" class, so kids aren't always on their best behavior. Still, I don't remember kids being that obnoxious in school... even in "fun" classes. I'm stopping short of saying "When I was your age..."

Then we take it back a few MORE years... let's say... to 1962!

I was perusing my Dad's high school yearbook the other day, and got a few laughs out of it. It was a time when picture day was a big deal, and every girl is wearing a dark dress with a pearl necklace. Every guy is wearing a coat and tie. What a bunch of squares! These people still knew how to shake things up, though. Check out the antics of 'ol Patrica Ann:

Yeah, you definitely wouldn't see the student's home address in the yearbook nowadays. And who can forget good 'ol Fred:

And what did these people do for a swingin' good time, you might ask? Well, I think Dianne had a great pastime:

This guy had a promising yearbook caption:

Golly! I hope he turned out all right. And the man who planted the seed for this post:

What a strapping young fellow. We better throw in my Momma for good measure (from an entirely different geographic location):

Her outfit is a little spicy compared to the chicks at my Dad's school. It's no wonder he held out for her.

Ah... yes. The glory days of 1962. And to top it all off, school violence was unheard of.
Oops. Never mind.

Living Green Isn't Just For Hippies

2009-04-07T12:25:00.000-07:00

O'Malley never ceases to amaze me.

He's the epitome of what we term Green. And I don't mean he just recycles cans. He lives his life, everyday, wondering what else he can do to protect the environment. I jokingly call him a "hippy" (which he doesn't appreciate very much, I just think it's fun), but he says living Green really has nothing to do with being a hippy. A few months ago, he took it to a new level... and decided to start a new Green business.

It's a franchise called Clean Air Lawncare, with humble beginnings in Fort Collins, Colorado. Apparently, someone over there decided that gas-powered lawnmowers are a major source of pollution (and noise). They started a new lawn service, using electric mowers and organic fertilizers. The thing took off, and now there are several franchises around the country. O'Malley realized noone had laid claim to the Spokane area yet, and decided to jump onboard. He made a business plan, went to Colorado for training, and a couple weeks ago picked up his first company rig out of Portland. I saw it for the first time today, and immediately noticed the solar panels mounted on the roof. They serve as chargers for the mowers, so the environmental impact is practically zero. Very cool. And... the idea of not having to listen to noisy lawnmowers is quite appealing, too.

I wish him the best, although if the thing takes off... I'll possibly lose my best cubicle friend. But then again, when you have a desk job... mowing lawns sounds pretty good sometimes. I guess I better stop calling him a hippy. :)

He did get me back recently, and found this photo somewhere:

Strange... you'd think I'd remember being at Woodstock. But then again, I don't know if many do. :)

If you think this all sounds good, and live in the Spokane area, shoot O'Malley an email at tavis@cleanairlawncare.com.

It's Just Not Right.

2009-04-02T12:30:00.000-07:00

While I'm waking up to 3 inches of new snow (during our alleged "Spring Break"), Mavis sends me a picture of herself on the Brooklyn Bridge in New York this morning:

The dude behind her in a t-shirt just adds insult to injury. :)

That's My Boy.

2009-03-19T07:45:00.000-07:00

I was missing my kids last night, so I gave them a call. My 7 year-old son got on, and was very excited to tell me something.

"Guess what, Dad? I get to be student of the week at school!"

"Wow, that's cool, guy. Did you do something special to earn that?"

"No, the teacher picked my name out of a hat. I get to pick two other kids to have lunch with me in the classroom next week!"

"That'll be fun! Are you going to pick your friend (so-and-so)?"

"He's not in my class, Dad."

"Oh. How about your friend (so-and-so)?"

"Naw. He's kinda crazy."

"I see. Who are you going to pick then?"

"I think... I'll pick... (so-and-so) and (so-and-so)."

"Well, I've never heard you talk about them before. Are they your friends?"

"No, not really."

"Oh. Then why are you picking them?"

"Because they never get picked by anyone else."

I really can't imagine anything that he could say or do that would make me more proud. :)

Just Call Me the "Teach"

2009-03-18T21:43:00.000-07:00

You never know where I may turn up.

My girl, Mavis, is a teacher at Lewis & Clark High School in downtown Spokane. She teaches English, video production, and produces the school news program. They had been using Pinnacle software for video editing, but recently switched over to Adobe Premiere. Mavis wasn’t exactly Premiere savvy, but coincidentally… it’s the same software I use to edit all of my video. She asked if I’d be interested in being a guest teacher for a day, and talk to the students about the basics of using Premiere.

As always, I’m easily talked into doing things.

Actually, I was kinda excited about it. I hadn’t really stepped foot in a high school since… well… high school.

I reported to the office of the school, and let them know that I was there to be a guest speaker for Mavis. They seemed a little suspicious of me, probably due to the fact that I was holding a huge vase of flowers (it was Valentine’s day, and I was multi-tasking.) Regardless, I got my Visitor Pass, and found my way to the classroom. Mavis seemed a little surprised that I actually showed up. I think she figured I’d chicken out. Maybe she was surprised by the flowers. She probably figured I’d chicken out.

We wandered the halls a bit, and shot some footage to use for the classes. It was lunchtime, and there were kids sprawled out everywhere… talking on their phones, texting, and listening to iPods. You know, important skills to learn as a youngster, to use as an adult in grocery store checkout lines. It felt a little odd to be randomly videotaping, but Mavis assured me it was perfectly normal. I guess being under constant surveillance is something else kids get used to at an early age these days.

Back in the classroom, Mavis got me setup on the “teacher” computer. Students started filing in, and didn’t seem overly surprised that I was there. I watched as one kid tried to mutilate his iPod headphones in the paper chopper. Mavis was too busy arguing with another kid about his crappy grade to notice.

The bell-replicating device rang, and class started. Mavis introduced me, and I was feeling confident… until a girl chimed out “is he your BOYFRIEND?!?” Mavis reluctantly said yes, and the entire class resounded “Awwww…. “ A girl in the front row remarked “You’re such a cute couple!” I was a little nervous about where this discussion might lead, so I quickly changed the subject. “Okay, go ahead and turn on your computers, and start up Adobe Premiere.”

Surprisingly, everybody did.

For three classes, I exposed several kids to an hours’ worth of the Otis G Experience. After the last student bailed out of the classroom, Mavis assured me that I did a great job.

Of course, that’s what you say to your boyfriend… whether they did or not. I think I did okay, but I can tell you one thing that’s for certain…

Teachers are incredibly underpaid. I was seriously exhausted after doing only three classes. It takes a lot of energy to hold the attention of a room full of teenagers.

The only awkward moment: I was showing the kids how to make a music video, and one of them requested a song that I just happened to have. I grabbed some random footage to go with it, and hit play. The song went “let the bodies hit the floor”… over a shot of all the teachers eating lunch.

Yeah. Not too cool. But entirely unintentional.

Mavis, after realizing we made it through the day... and that I won't be in a classroom again anytime soon.

Not the Prettiest Drag Queen

2009-02-23T19:31:00.000-08:00

I'm easily talked into things.

Some of my buddies at work had something special planned for an upcoming Mardi Gras fundraiser. Someone had bailed out on the deal, so I was asked if I was interested in helping out. As always, I threw myself onto the wagon.

The first sign of trouble was when my daughter wondered why her Daddy would be looking for a dress at Value Village. She kept peeking under the dressing room door, with a giggly confusion. I also found it's pretty hard to find size 12 high heels, and ended up settling on some chunky brown sandals.

At the big event, I decided to give it my all. I would be dancing to "If I Could Turn Back Time", by Cher. I wanted to be sexy and sultry.

I ended up looking boxy, clumsy, and masculine. I never realized how broad my shoulders are, until I saw myself in an evening gown.

I guess I don't make a very sexy girl. But I've also been told that's not necessarily a bad thing. I may not be the prettiest drag queen... but I apparently got the "sympathy vote" from someone. While changing backstage, I realized somebody had stuck a $20 bill in my cleavage. :)

If you don't want to watch the whole thing, check it out at 3:10, and the ending. Regulars here will also recognize another otisGexperience guest appearance by my cubicle neighbor, O'Malley (he got the "cutest" vote). And all the others? Let's just say they're mostly government employees from the greater Spokane area.

Telstar, Joe Meek, and joltinjoe

2009-02-18T12:55:00.001-08:00

This last Christmas, I received a very thoughtful present. It's the book "Singles, Six Decades of Hot Hits & Classic Cuts", by Johnny Black. It's basically an overview of all the music singles that topped the charts for the last 50 years. It's fun for me to, for example, look up 1962 and see what music was popular during that year. Since popular music somewhat reflects the sentiment of the period, I think it's one of the best ways to get a feel for the era... without having lived it. Obviously, most of the songs from before the 70's I've never heard of, so it's fun to get on Google or YouTube and look 'em up. It's amazing to me that some of the songs were even hits.

While reading it last night, I came across a full page spread for "Telstar", by the Tornadoes. It was the first British instrumental single to top the charts in America, so I figured it would be an amazing song. Here's the Tornadoes performing it:

Okay, first impressions: Weird song. Somewhat catchy melody, but doesn't exactly seem "mass-media" exciting to me. What interested me much more than the song, was the story on the facing page... about the guy who wrote it.

Joe Meek. (Check him out on Wikipedia here.) Talk about a weird, but fascinating guy. The dude didn't even play any instruments, but wrote hundreds of singles... many of which were chart toppers. He was a closet homosexual ( since it was illegal in Britain at the time), and pioneered many advances in recording techniques. He was also convinced that he could speak with dead rock stars (like Buddy Holly), and would set up recording devices in cemetaries to try and capture voices. It all ended in 1967 when he shot his landlady, and then shot himself... at the age of 37. Apparently, I'm not the only one who finds him interesting, as his life is currently being made into a film. I'll definitely be checking that one out.

While searching "Telstar" on YouTube, I came across this cute little montage video that "joltinjack" made here. What really struck me, though, was the kids description for the video:

I dedicate this video to my Dad. He inspired me to pursue mathematics and science, while at the same time, to appreciate the arts. He is a great father.

Exactly what I hope my kids say about me someday. :)

Everyone Hearts the 80's?!?

2009-02-15T10:16:00.000-08:00

During house parties of the past, I've always thought it would be cool (and funny) to have random 80's music videos playing in the background. I once tried compiling YouTube videos (using SaveTube), but it was always too much work for something so cheesy. I have seen 80's music video DVD's at the store, but they never quite had the "random" selection I was hoping for.

My friends, today I made an incredible discovery.

Check out thegreat80s.com. You will find 80's culture, TV shows, and even classic video games that you can actually play.

Of course, there's also the crown jewel...

The random 80's music video player. This thing could keep you entertained throughout the workday! (Uhhh... I mean weekend.)

Rest easy, comrades. I've got you covered.

Otis G (on the right), circa late 80's, with Gary Coleman and my little brother! We were awesome. You can kinda see the "Limpies" logo on my hat, which was my trademark symbol throughout the 80's... seein' as how I didn't get laid until the 90's. :)

Here it is again, in my senior picture, circa 1992!

And speaking of my little brother, this one's for you:

Yeah, I know. I tend to get off track sometimes.

Let Them Eat Cake, While I Eat Cheesecake!

2009-02-15T02:43:00.000-08:00

Last summer, my friend's friend had a tree blow over during a windstorm. It kinda sucked, cause my friend's friend was out of town on vacation when it happened. Not only did it knock out her power, but my friend was worried about her having to deal with the mess when she came back. So, she asked if I could go over with a chainsaw to cut the thing up, and I was happy to do so.

My friend's friend was so appreciate when she came back, she ended up giving me a couple gift cards. One of them was for $50 at The Cheesecake Factory, which was kinda cool since I hadn't been to the new one in Coeur d'Alene. Unfortunately, unbeknowst to me, it had already closed down. Come to find out, the one in Spokane was gone as well. Not really knowing what else to do with it, I threw the gift card in a box with several others... and forgot about it.

Tonight, as I was paying some bills, I came across it again. I glanced at the back of it, and realized I could use it online. I was hoping that they maybe had some cool kitchen stuff, but quickly found that your only option... is to buy cheesecake! (Hmmm.) What the hell, I figured. Nothing like some fancy cheesecake to go with my Tuna Helper.

When the "shopping" screen came up, I was shocked to find that most of them were $40 to $50 apiece. Seemed pretty pricey, but whatever (didn't exactly have a lot of options). I picked out this delicious-looking chocolate number, and proceeded to the checkout screen. Little did I know, it costs around $25 to ship a cheesake. Grand total? Around $75. Yeah, no thanks.

I browsed a bit more, and found a smaller banana cheesecake for the bargain price of... $23. With shipping, it came to a measley $49.90.

So, in a couple days, I'll hopefully be getting the thing in the mail. And while the rest of the population is losing their jobs and wondering how to pay their bills, I'll be chowing down on $50 banana cheesecake.

Feel free to stop by for a piece, population. :)

The Digg Reel!

2009-02-12T12:30:00.000-08:00

Now, like many of you out there, I do find myself occassionally perusing YouTube videos. Sometimes, though, I get tired of watching a bunch of crappy videos to find the good ones. I always thought it would be cool if there was a "America's Funniest Home Videos" show, specifically for internet videos. Without the lame host, of course.

My prayers have been answered. For anyone who hasn't heard of this yet, I proudly present... The Digg Reel.

Check out the latest episodes here.

Wow. Fun.

2009-02-02T11:58:00.000-08:00

My daughter is a puzzle fanatic. She'll do the same "Hello Kitty" puzzle 5 times, in one sitting. I decided she could use a new one, so I took her to the game/puzzle store in the Valley mall yesterday. While she perused the Disney princess and Tinkerbell section, I considered buying a big-kid one for myself.

I found a three-dimensional globe puzzle, that was super cool. The $45 price tag was not incredibly cool. I looked at the 1000-2000 piece puzzles... and decided I was looking for an evening of fun, not 6 months of dedication. Then... I came across The Beatles album cover collection. Now, that could be kinda fun... until you realize... they put out this obscure little record called The White Album.

I can imagine the infomercial for this sucker:

"Just what you've been waiting for... The Beatles White Album... as a puzzle! Most puzzles have distinct colors, shapes, and lines, that are a joy to try and fit together. Not this one! Imagine the hours of family fun you'll have while you pluck completely white pieces out of a box full of completely white pieces, and wonder if you'll EVER find any that fit together!"

"Act now, supplies are limited. And... if you call in the next 5 minutes, we'll throw in the perfect compliment... Metallica's Black Album puzzle. You only have to pay the $6.95 shipping and handling!"

Of course, now, if I ever put out an album, I'll keep in mind it's future puzzle marketing potential. Maybe I'll make it completely blue...

Yeah, I know, Weezer already did that. But mine will be very innovative... COMPLETELY blue. :)

Side note: I was just looking at the White Album puzzle photo, and realized it says "100-piece double sided". Does that mean the backs of the pieces are white, too? Phew. Wouldn't want it to be TOO easy.

Sometime Around Midnight

2009-01-21T20:12:00.000-08:00

Sometimes, you hear a song that pierces your soul.

A couple weeks ago, I heard just such a song. After hearing it on the radio several times, I just had to find out who it was by. There's some websites where you can try to find a song just by typing in some lyrics (like lyrster), but I really had a hard time remembering how they went. The singer has kind of a rambling, mumbly voice... somewhat like my own. Maybe that's what drew me to it. Eventually, it came on at a time when I could really pay attention and write some down.

It's starts off with a dark, tormented strings line... that fades into a beautiful, hopeful guitar line. And then the singer somewhat "talks" the lyrics, and it gradually builds into a frustrated rant at the end. Another thing I like about it is that there is no repeated chorus, which defies standard songwriting.

The song is "Sometime Around Midnight", by The Airborne Toxic Event. Check it out.

The Supreme Chancellor of Typing!

2009-01-20T17:15:00.000-08:00

I was a total geek in high school. I played the tuba. I was in advanced math classes. I was too afraid to go to dances. But, besides ALL that...

I was proud to be the fastest typer in keyboarding class.

It was slightly old school, we actually used electric typewriters. I think it was about the time that schools were trying to figure out how to integrate this new-fangled computer thing.

Ever since, I would occasionally find myself looking at a roadside sign, and typing it out in my head. I felt stupid for doing so.

Recently, during lunchtime at work, some co-workers were having a typing contest. Someone found a website that "tests" you on words per minute, and number of mistakes. They wanted me to give it a shot, and I reluctantly sat down. I do a fair amount of typing at work, but I didn't have very high expectations.

Much to my surprise, I got 80 WPM, with 3 mistakes. Yeah. Turns out, I'm the office typing champ.

I actually felt like I could have done better. Today I tried it again, and got 93 WPM, with no mistakes. Awesome.

Yup, I'm still a geek. Click below to try it for yourself. And I would add that I'm more of a "sprint" typist, not sure how I would fare in a typing "marathon"... :)

93 words

Speed test

American History, Generation X

2009-01-19T16:26:00.000-08:00

Today is January 19th, my 35th birthday. I joke with people to enjoy their day off, due to my birthday being a national holiday.

Everybody knows better.

I’m nobody special. I’m a white, working-class, thirty-something suburbanite, just like almost everybody else. Regardless, I’ve spent my life trying to be someone special, using every medium my generation has embraced. I write blog posts. I make YouTube videos. I write and play music. All with the hopes of leaving some mark on the world.

Just like almost everybody else.

I grew up in North Idaho, a million miles away from the Mexican border, the south, and the culture of the east and west coast. The only culture I experienced was what was spewed from MTV and evening cop dramas. Apparently, “culture” meant gangster rappers and drug-dealing Mexicans. If that was it, I was glad to be tucked safely away among my fellow white people in the mountains of the Northwest.

Unfortunately, it also made a convenient hideaway for a little group of haters, called the Aryan Nations.

They would occasionally have parades through downtown Coeur d’Alene, sporting swastikas and young children. It was a confusing time for a white community, who knew that hatred for different cultures was wrong… but had never really personally experienced exactly why. So, they whole-heartedly tried to ignore the escapade, but wanted the world to know it was being ignored… which ultimately resulted in the national media focusing on “those racist bastards” who dominated North Idaho.

It never really made sense to me. You might as well parade around the desert, and tell a herd of cattle how much you hate dolphins. The Aryan Nations eventually went away, but their stigma stained North Idaho for years to come.

When I joined the Marines at age 19, I looked forward to leaving North Idaho, and meeting people of varied cultures. I wanted to find out for myself if what I grew up watching on TV was true. At that point in my life, I had never even met a person who wasn’t white. I stepped on a plane and bid farewell to my white safety, at least for awhile. On the plane, I sat next to someone who was flying back to California. He asked me where I was from, and I proudly stated that I was from North Idaho. His response? “Oh, nice. At least you don’t have to worry about niggers up there.”

I was speechless. I realized that being from Idaho, I was going to be perceived as racist. I was also saddened to realize not all “haters” wore swastikas, but sometimes sported briefcases and business suits.

In boot camp, I was excited to be placed in a culturally diverse platoon. Although, it made me nervous. I wasn’t sure how to act. If I asked innocent questions, like “if your skin is black, can you still get sun burnt?”, would I get my teeth knocked out? In the end, it didn’t really matter. Boot camp wasn’t exactly conducive to dinnertime conversation. We were lucky to have time to polish our boots. And besides, Marine Corps boot camp was not the place to examine equality. We were all treated equally worthless, regardless of race.

After graduating, I was shipped to Ft. Sill, Oklahoma for artillery school. Once again, I was glad to see several African-American Marines. And here, I thought I would have time to maybe get to know some of them. I never had the chance.

As soon as we arrived, they all segregated themselves to the corner of the room. It was deemed “the ghetto”, and unfortunately for the rest of us… was located right at the entrance to the head (bathroom). Any white guy who had the misfortune of needing to go to the bathroom, had to weave through the taunts and insults of the ghetto. To make it worse, while the rest of us cleaned the barracks to get the weekend off, the ghetto was busy wrestling around, trashing the place. One time, we didn’t get the weekend off. Because of the ghetto.

I started to wonder if what I saw on TV as a kid was, in fact, a true reality. I went back to the white safety of Idaho, and several years went by.

I lived in Portland for awhile, in the predominately caucasion suburb of Beaverton. One night, I drove through the “black” part of downtown, out of curiosity. I was later told if I wanted to live, I better stay the hell out of there. I did. I once again returned to the white safety of Idaho, and several years went by.

A few years ago, I went to visit my aunt in St. Louis. I was excited to visit the University district, after hearing it was culturally diverse. I found my way there, and for the first time in my life, experienced what I had always wondered possible.

There were Muslims. Latinos. African Americans. Everything I’d never seen in Idaho. They were all shopping, walking among each other, and surprisingly… talking to each other. And the best part?

Nobody seemed to really think anything of it. Just the naïve white guy from Idaho.

I felt hope for America. At the same time, I also wondered why this wasn’t the norm for America. I returned to the boring, white safety of Idaho. Several years went by.

Before Obama, I had never voted for a President. Ever. I was committed to holding out for someone who inspired me, who I thought would change the world for the better. Obama did that to me. He seemed like an inspiring leader, a refreshing new way of thinking. Honestly, the fact that he’s black wasn’t really a factor. I wanted to focus on the man, not the origin. But you know what?

I’m proud to say that the first man to excite me enough to vote is, in fact, black.

It’s about damn time.

Last night, I saw Clint Eastwood’s new movie, “Gran Torino”. He plays an old war vet, whose neighborhood is overrun with foreigners. The same people he was raised to hate, and ordered to kill as a soldier. From the beginning of the movie, he calls them every horrible, derogatory slang term you can imagine… and the audience laughed. Initially, I cringed, and was reminded that I was still in my naïve, white Idaho.

Eventually, I found myself laughing, too. Most of the terms he uses are so old-fashioned, so ridiculous. And I realized that with the election of a black President, we are that much closer to those words being exactly what they should be - laughable ignorance. It was an incredible movie, that everyone should see. I won’t give it away, but in the end… you’re blown away by what Clint Eastwood does to protect the very people he was bred to hate.

Today, I watched another fitting Martin Luther King Day movie, “Crash”. Another great example of people wanting so bad to hate , while continuously “crashing” into each other lives. And finally realizing they all depend on each other.

Tomorrow, we’ll have a new President.

Best of luck to you, President Obama. Make jobs. Fix the economy. Figure out what’s supposed to happen in Iraq.

And make this white, working-class, thirty-something nobody from North Idaho feel like he left a mark on the world… by voting for you.

Embrace this opportunity, America. Remember why it’s a big deal, and think about why it shouldn’t be.

High Heels... For Boys!

2009-01-09T07:29:00.000-08:00

Men don't understand women's obsession with shoes.

They always seem to have 1,378 pairs. High heels, boots, tennis shoes... and other assorted "foot coverings". Like most guys, I probably have around 5 pair. In years past, I've had 2. We just don't get excited about such things. So I wondered, what is it that guys get excited about?

T-shirts.

I have probably 30 t-shirts hanging in my closet. Some of them I've never worn. Some of them were bought purely on a whim. Some of them I paid too much for, while others were absolute bargains. And granted, some of them should have been retired years ago.

Sound familiar, ladies?

This is all coming about because I was at the Hot Topic in the Valley Mall a couple days ago, and picked up this gem:

Straight from the clearance pile, for $7.00. Awesome. :) For now, it's displayed proudly in my work cubicle, for all to see.

Livin' the 00's

2008-12-05T07:30:00.000-08:00

Life was roaring in the twenties. The thirties were consumed by the Great Depression. The forties hosted World War II. In the fifties, people started rockin'. The sixties were a blur, from what I've heard. The seventies (when I was born), also birthed the computer. Everyone looks back fondly at the eighties, to memories of big hair and power mullets. I was in my personal prime in the nineties, when pop culture imploded and "alternative" became mainstream. Now, we are quickly approaching 2009, and finishing out yet another decade. So, with that, here's my question:

What exactly do we call this decade?

Following the usual numbering system, I guess it'd be the zeroies, which sounds stupid. Calling it the 2000's seems more suitable for the century, not the decade.

It kinda makes me feel like we're currently in an "indescribable" era, which sucks. We've had some serious crap happen this decade! Fifty years from now, what will people Google to find out about this period we're living RIGHT NOW?

Just seems weird to me. Anybody have any ideas?

God Bless the USA, Part 2

2008-11-24T19:23:00.000-08:00

Click here to see Part 1.

News of the $20 billion Citigroup bailout took me back to a phone conversation I had a couple months ago. After moving into my new house, I figured I'd better call Idaho Child Support Services and give them my new address. Following is the phone conversation I had with the operator, as close to word-for-word as I can recall:

"Idaho Child Support Services, this is Myrtle, can I help you?"

"Hi there, Myrtle. I just moved, and figured I better update my address."

"Okay, we can do that. Let me pull up your account here."

Gave her my personal info.

"Wow! It looks like you pay your child support regularly!"

"Ummm... I guess I didn't realize it was optional!"

(laughs)... "Well, it seems to be to some people."

"Well, Myrtle, while I have you on the phone... I wanted to ask about my statements. I stopped receiving them several months ago, and kept asking for one when I sent my check. But, I've never received one."

"Oh, yes. You won't be receiving a statement anymore, because you always pay."

Pause

"I guess I'm a little confused."

"New legislation was passed that only allows us to pay for postage on cases that have to be enforced."

Pause

"So.... what you're saying, is that as long as I keep paying, I'll never receive a statement?"

"That's correct."

Pause

"Oh."

Pause

"How come I never received anything letting me know that?"

"We couldn't use government funds to send a notice out, either."

"Oh."

Pause

"Well... uh... thanks for your help, Myrtle."

"Thanks for calling."

End of call

Here's how I see it. The government can't afford its own postage to send me a child support statement once a month, of which I always pay. But, it can afford to give Citigroup $20 billion, who in turn junk mails me at least twice a week, which I promptly throw away.

Awesome.

God bless us all. Everyone.

Who Has the Time?

2008-11-21T12:30:00.000-08:00

Every year, the holidays bring with them a torrent of "social events". Thanksgiving potlucks, Christmas parties, and gift exchanges. And every year, I watch as people make every excuse possible to NOT attend.

It really kinda bothers me. Yeah, some of the events are cheesy. Yeah, maybe it costs a little more than it should. Yeah, maybe you've already made an appointment to have your back hair removed that night. But, in the back of my mind, I can't help but wonder: Are these people just plain elitist, anti-social, shy... or maybe a little of all the above?

Sorry, but "too busy" doesn't really fly. I'm always incredibly annoyed by people who constantly complain of being "too busy". You're as busy as you make yourself to be. And, you make time for things that are important to you.

Maybe it's because I'm a people person; but I love hanging out with co-workers outside of work. Nobody is truly who they "really are" while chained to a cubicle. Would you rather see elephants in a zoo pen, mindlessly wandering around... or roaming around their natural habitat, where there's noone to feed them or clean up their poop?

I eagerly wait for social events, and will even re-schedule personal conflicts to be able to attend... as opposed to people who schedule personal conflicts for the sole purpose of NOT attending. I mean, I spend more time with these people than anyone. Why wouldn't you want to get to know them better, on a personal level? When they're actually being "real" people?

Maybe some people don't want others to see who (or what) they really are.

And maybe I'm just being overly dramatic about it, cause I'm still waiting to attend a work party like you see in the movies... you know, where everybody is hammered and gets funky in back offices.

So here's to you, Party Poopers. While you're sitting at home watching "It's a Wonderful Life", I'll be livin' it.

Neener neener.

Ballad of the Plangineer!

2008-11-05T18:00:00.000-08:00

So, my cubicle neighbor O'Malley and I decided to shake things up a bit at the work Halloween potluck. One night while shopping at Value Village in Spokane, I had an idea. You see, he's a Planner, and I review engineering plans. Sometimes, we end up reviewing different aspects of the same project. So, I thought to myself, what if those two things were combined into one person? Voila! The ultimate in municipal efficiency: The Assistant Plangineer!

I have the pleasure of presenting: The Ballad of the Plangineer.

Lyrics:
Some of us want to care for the Earth,
And some of us want to move it
So then I want to know how much
And I'm the one that makes you prove it
So you if you want an SHP, BSP or BLA
I wanna see your PGIS, your BMP's and GPA's

When we work together, it's a happy day
Permits get approved
So people can laugh and dance and play
Some might think we're two different things,
But we're really all just the same
Except that I look to the future,
And I think that the present is A-OK.

I measure setbacks and plant some trees
I measure right-of-way and cut down some trees
I make sure that people can park
And I make sure they can drive away
So if you want a DNS on your SEPA
I'll need a Drainage Report that is complete. Ah.

When we work together, it's a happy day
Permits get approved,
So people can laugh and dance and play
Some might think we're two different things,
But we're really all just the same
Except that I look to the future,
And I think that the present is A-OK.

And if we ever get fired...
I guess I'll organize weddings
And I'll go drive a train.

Coming Soon...

2008-10-31T11:16:00.000-07:00

The ultimate in municipal efficiency! :)

"I Wish I Could Have Known You, Tree!"

2008-10-03T07:45:00.000-07:00

Now, I'm all for being concerned about the environment, but give me a break. They could have at least picked a bigger stump to cry over!

And as with all incredibly ridiculous YouTube videos, here's the parody:

And the Mastery of the English Language Continues...

2008-09-23T13:05:00.000-07:00

Laughing in Paradise

2008-09-23T10:50:00.000-07:00

Here's what happens when a motel is run by people who don't fully grasp the english language...

I don't get it. Not sure I want to.

Big or Small?

2008-09-18T12:35:00.000-07:00

So, O'Malley and I decided to hit some fast food for lunch today. The place we went to had a... uh... little person working the front counter (isn't "midget" kinda bad to say nowadays?). Anyway, I ordered a soft taco combo, and he asked the inevitable question:

"Do you want it big or small?"

"Oh.... I like it small!"

Hmmm.

I couldn't tell which was worse, telling a little person that you "like it small", or being a little person who spends their day asking people if they want it "big or small".

Yes, I know. I overthink things sometimes. :) He was an incredibly nice guy, by the way.

Aqua Poo?

2008-08-25T17:00:00.001-07:00

So, I'm standing in the checkout line at Wally World the other day, and I notice something on display up ahead...

From a distance, it looked like Aqua Poo. With much confusion, I tried to figure out what Aqua Poo could possibly be.

On closer inspection, I could better read the label... Aqua Pod. They were mini containers of bottled water.

Now, I'm no marketing expert... but why would you label something meant to be "pure" in a fashion that would possibly be construed as exactly the opposite?

It's all about the font, people!

"The List is Long and Distinguished." Goose, Top Gun

2008-08-07T22:35:00.000-07:00

After writing my last post, I feel compelled to write a complete list of all the friends who got me through an incredibly chaotic chapter of my life. Anyone who knows me, knows that I have a nickname for anybody who has a positive impact on my life.

Thank you, to everyone. You know who you are.

The Godfather
Farnsworth
Ookie
Sea Bass
Indy
Big B
MMJD
Homie
Dr. Allen
Glorious
aLEEEEEEsa
Hot Rod
Warren G
Fernando
Del
O'Malley
Ingot
Boggs
Donna
JJ
Spanky
McGillicuddy

The person who got me through the absolute worst time...

Punky

And the person who had the biggest part in guiding me back to myself...

McGee.

Some of the most memorable things said to me by these people:

"You're an honorable man."

"Promise me that when I walk by your desk in the morning, you'll be sitting there."

"Whether you ask him to or not, the Lord will watch over you."

"Here's a card with what to do if you ever lose it and get pulled over drunk."

"You need to be careful. People attach to you, and sometimes end up getting hurt. Without you even knowing it."

"At the lowest point in my life, I asked God for help. That night, my house was broken into. And then my life got better." (I did a similar thing; and that night my car was broken into. And then things got better.)

And probably the most important of all...

"Every person you date, every decision you make, every thing you do... needs to be based on one thing. What's best for your kids."

I think I'm actually going to be okay. It's a good feeling to finally have. :)

Miss Them When They're Big

2008-08-07T21:30:00.000-07:00

I always tell my kids that I'll "miss them when they're big." I'll miss them when they're too big to hold. Too big to need instructions. Too big to sleep with me. Too big to jump in the shower with me. Too big to need my help with every little thing.

Too big to think their Daddy is flawless.

I'm likely closing on my new house tomorrow, after spending a year making the best life I possibly could for my kids in my parents' basement. It's one of many long-overdue last steps in a year-long saga, that will most likely be the worst period of my entire life. If not for my parents, family, loyal old friends, and caring new friends, it would have been much worse.

If not for the unconditional love of my children, I possibly would not have survived.

They are alive because of me. And now, I feel I'm alive because of them. I look forward to them continuing to lead me down an unknown path.

Ode to Senorita Makita

2008-08-03T22:07:00.000-07:00

"Hey man, what are you doing for lunch tomorrow?" Coming from my hippy/granola/cubicle neighbor buddy O'Malley, that usually involves a trip to the organic pet food store. Or a burrito from Taco Bell. Not this time.

"Why do you ask?", I asked.

"Dude! Senorita Makita is going to be at Spokane Power Tool tomorrow. Let's go check it out!"

Senorita Makita? It sounded too goofy to be true. So, I promptly googled "Senorita Makita"... and there she was. In all her tool-belt strapping glory. And in all fairness, there was a Miss Makita as well. Good to know Makita is an equal-opportunity employer.

I don't normally get excited about such things. But, it was funny seeing O'Malley so excited about it. I said "Yeah, for sure! I'm in!" The fact that they were serving free lunch helped.

The next day around noon, we jumped in his Subaru Outback and headed downtown. As soon as we approached Spokane Power Tool, I knew that Senorita Makita must be a big deal. There were hundreds of contractors, laborers, and... uh.... even a couple of "public agency" vehicles parked there. After we parked and got in line, there were... uh... TWO... office guys. Us. Regardless, we were welcomed into the mix.

For a half hour, we stood in line amidst guys looking at tools. Guys talking cool. Guys looking cool. After all, a half hour is not much time to prepare yourself for something as mind-blowing as Senorita Makita. After much patience and self restraint, there she was. I expected her to be posing gorgeously, with high heels and cameras flashing. Instead, she was positioned under an EZ-Up canopy, sitting at a table. She frantically signed posters of herself.

O'Malley was quite smitten. "What's your name?", he asked. It never occured to me that Senorita Makita may not be her given name. O'Malley is one smooth character, I'll give him that. She told us her name. I don't remember what it was. I was too busy thinking about what it would be like to be the focus of attention among hundreds of people... and knowing that every one of them wants to have sex with you. Weird.

Next stop: the food tent, where we had our choice of a BBQ chicken sandwich, a burger, or a giant sausage. I opted for the BBQ chicken, because it seemed a little anti-climactic to "hang" with Senorita Makita... just to be handed a giant sausage.

We got our lunch. O'Malley got his autographed poster. The trip was a success.

So, here's to you, Senorita Makita. May you find happiness among power tools, sharpie pens, and horny men.

LKMY JNK?

2008-07-17T22:16:00.000-07:00

Does this mean what I think it says? I'd say North Dakota is pretty loose with the personalized license plates.

I'm sure the intent is not what I'm thinking it is, but I think it's funny regardless.

Brand of Brothers

2008-06-26T21:31:00.000-07:00

We'd been sitting around a campfire, talking about it for years.

"We should have a ceremony, where we brand each other!" someone once joked. Over time, the idea was expanded upon... including chants, mantras, and certain... uh... "revealings".

Alcohol has a way of making grown men do strange things. One is drinking Maker's Mark whiskey. Another is drinking Arrogant Bastard Ale. Some are drinking Keystone Light, while others are drinking Pepsi. But, on this particular night, the consumption of spirits was drowned out by an outpouring of loyalty and manliness.

I've been going on yearly camping trips with the same group of guys for around 5 years now. We go up the St. Joe, almost to the Montana border. It's strictly for men only. I guess that's how I know I'm with an older group; I'm still at the age where I'd love to bring a female companion. Apparently, after you reach the ripe age of 50+ something, you take every opportunity to get away from women. So you can do strange things and not get yelled at, I'm guessing.

It's called the "herd" trip. A herd of men, who have all worked together at one time, converge in the wild. And become wild.

During the last trip, while sitting around the fire, one particular member of the herd had a presentation to make. He actually made an honorary branding iron in the shape of elk hooves, complete with a wooden case and a bite stick.

Everyone laughed. "Haha, what a funny idea!" everyone thought.

"I'll do it," I quickly said.

People got a little nervous. I don't think anybody considered that somebody would actually do it. After a moment of silence, C.C. (unofficial dominant male of the herd) proudly proclaimed "Well, I'm going first!"

Amidst stares of disbelief, and with help from the burner of a camp stove, he did. And he said it wasn't that bad. D.W. was next. I was third, and also the last. Surprisingly, it really didn't hurt. It was worse for the brand administrator, who had to watch the receiver's skin crackle and smoke.

Nobody thought any less of those who opted out. I mean c'mon, we were intentionally burning each other. I think being part of the experience was enough for them.

So, now we're a Brand of Brothers. But, after a bit of campfire mischief, I think we realized that we already were. :)

Unfortunately, I flinched a bit when getting mine, so I think it might end up looking like a butt. Although, we were glad the brand's maker didn't put his initials on it: B.J. That wouldn't have been overly manly.

Sometimes...

2008-06-12T21:16:00.000-07:00

You just have to do your best with the options you're given.

And some things aren't meant for the trash bin, no matter how hard you push.

Reminds me of a couch I once bought for my bedroom at my parents' house. We couldn't get it through the door, so I cut it in half with a chainsaw. Once we got it in, I nailed it back together with some scrap wood and sewed the fabric with fishing line. It was a very punk rock thing to do. Structurally; it never quite worked, there was always a sag right where your butt went. Funny thing is, when I had buddies stay the night... they swore it was incredibly comfortable - for that reason. :)

Just So You Know...

2008-05-10T10:59:00.001-07:00

When I go camping, there's a few things that you will DEFINITELY not see happening with my kids:

1. They will not pee on the picnic table in your campsite.
2. They will not take a dump in front of your tent.
3. I won't stand on the perimeter, giggling at how cute it is that they're fighting in your campsite.
4. I won't chain them outside at 4 in the morning, and let them scream at the top of their lungs.
5. They won't come nose into your food while you're eating dinner.
6. They won't run rampant through your campsite.

Now, if you all could do the same thing with your DOGS, that would be swell. ;)

Bite Me, Oil Barons

2008-04-30T20:26:00.000-07:00

Buying gas sucks.

Cars are expensive in the first place. When you really think about it, a new car is equivalent to most people's yearly income.

And then there's insurance. What's up with that? It's kinda like giving the neighbor kid money every month, just in case you need him to mow your lawn one day.

Then they breakdown. We won't even get into that.

On top of it all, you gotta keep the damn tank full to keep it going. It's no wonder people pay such close attention to gas prices. Sometimes TOO close attention, I think. It drives me nuts how my Mom will drive across town to save 10 cents a gallon. That's a total savings of about 1 dollar in her car. Yippee.

I've never really got that excited about paying for gas. You gotta do it, right? I don't think the powers-that-be have a bitch gauge out, measuring the complaints from people, and adjusting prices accordingly. Sorry, people.

Granted, I never had to really worry about buying gas. Even when I bought my full-size Chevy pickup, I only had about a mile to drive to work. I filled it up about once a month. I hafta admit, though, I did ride my bike to work occasionally - with kid trailer in tow. But it wasn't about saving gas, it was about exercise.

Times changed.

I took a new job in Washington, with a commute of about 22 miles one way. I suddenly found myself spending 300-400 dollars a month on gas. Plus, I hated the fact that I was putting so many miles on my nice truck. I came very close to bitching about it. Instead, I did something about it.

Say hello to Otis G Mobile #2.

It's an '87 Toyota Tercel. I bought it from a grandma through a guy I know from work for $1,5oo. She only drove it to the doctor and to the store, so in over 20 years she only managed to put 60,000 miles on it. It's boxy. It's not exactly sporty. It doesn't even have a cassette player; AM/FM radio only (that occasionally works). Weirdest part? I love it. I guess that's a sign of getting old, when economy is more important than style.

So, I figure I'm saving at least $200 a month driving it. It'll pay for itself in a few months, but more importantly - I'm not putting miles on my precious truck. It's actually a bit of a treat when I drive my truck now, as it should be.

I wonder if some oil billionaire somewhere is wondering why he's getting $299,800 a month as opposed to $300,000. Probably not. But, at least I know where it is... okay, where the hell is it? Well, you know how that goes. :)

Scrabbled

2008-04-28T01:49:00.000-07:00

It's interesting what you come across in the months after a divorce.

While getting my camp trailer ready for an upcoming trip, I found this travel Scrabble with an unfinished game. I don't remember who had which rack, but they both had pretty crappy letters left. Not much of a board to work with, either.

I do know that "pique" wasn't a word I laid down. I don't even know what that is; I must have taken her word for it.

I will point out, however, that I was in the lead - 222 to 163. I'll just tell myself that I would have won. :)

A Brand New Brodwater

2008-04-28T01:31:00.000-07:00

7 pounds, 15 ounces. Is that big? I've never quite understood why people get so excited about the weight of a baby. Is it a contest? I guess if I was the one pushing it out I'd be more interested in how big it is.

I got to hold my brand new baby niece tonight. So precious, and so fragile. You can't help but be reminded of your own child's birth (especially when it's in the same hospital room). Such an incredible time, something you never forget.

Welcome to the world, Destiny. You're possibly the last newborn addition to my immediate family. Be a baby as long as you can. :)

Sugar WAS Poured On Me

2008-04-25T17:00:00.000-07:00

So, I survived the Def Leppard concert. A few general observations:

There were HORDES of soccer moms, who apparently see something like this as “girls night out” (not a whole lotta husbands around). Great, good to see them having a good time. But, I gotta say, the outfits probably looked okay in 1987… not so much in 2008. I think many of them now have the cleavage they wish they had in the 80’s (and displayed them proudly), but they also had all the other body features that come with big cleavage (also displayed, but not so proudly).

There was a couple in front of me that brought their pre-teen son. During one of the Def Leppard songs, there was a scantily clad woman portrayed on the gigantic on-stage monitor. The mother, at first, promptly covered her son’s eyes. Eventually, she whisked him away to the concession area. C’mon, lady. We’re talkin’ “Cherry Pie” era here. What did you expect?

I saw many REO Speedwagon tour shirts from the 80’s, which were suspiciously crisp and new. Do these people keep them in a climate-controlled room, just in case a “reunion” tour comes up?

I failed to notice a single mullet. It was disappointing.

As far as the bands themselves…

REO Speedwagon

For whatever reason, I remember these guys as bein’ kinda hippies. Either I was confused, or they’ve decided to rock out. I didn’t think hippies wore leather pants.

Styx

I have always, and still do, think this is the dumbest band name ever. It just doesn’t feel right but admittedly; I’m from another era. The highlight? The keyboard was mounted on a makeshift merry-go-round thing, and the dude held on for dear life (and played) while spinning wildly. And, were silver ties ever in style? I missed that one. I was pretty bummed, though, that they didn’t play “Mr. Roboto”. I guess you don’t play the song that tanked the band.

Def Leppard

Their show started with a gigantic British flag on the gargantuan stage monitor. First thought? I guess I never realized they were British. Second thought? Oh yeah, there ARE other countries besides America!

They put on a good show, except that I could tell the lead singer was holding back a bit. I’ve seen better Def Leppard singing in a karaoke bar. Granted, their next tour stop was Las Vegas… better save the voice for the big one! And I think the guitar players work out as much as they play guitar. They were pretty ripped for older dudes.

Regretfully, I didn’t purchase one of their 2008 tour shirts. I guess I’ll be out of luck when the 2028 reunion tour comes around.

Pour Some Sugar on Me

2008-04-23T07:30:00.000-07:00

A buddy called me last week and proudly proclaimed, "Dude! I've got tickets to Def Leppard, and you're going!" The hearing impaired Leppard will be joined by REO Speedwagon and Styx at the Spokane Arena.

So, I'll hear the classic:

And the ever-popular:

And the best one by far (I had no idea Styx did this song):

Of course, now I'm a little bummed that I chopped off my mullet before it bloomed.

God Bless the USA

2008-04-20T21:41:00.000-07:00

I e-filed my taxes a couple weeks ago. After periodically checking the status, I was pleased to see "direct-deposited" come up. After a week of checking my bank account and finding no such deposit, I was not so pleased. Against my better judgement, I called the IRS "refund hotline". After being on hold for 20 minutes with classical music so loud I think my ear started bleeding, here is the gist of my conversation (and this is for real):

"Internal Revenue Service, Representative # (whatever) here, how may I help you?"

"Yeah, your website says my refund was deposited over a week ago, but it never showed up in my checking account."

"Have you called our refund hotline, sir?"

"I thought that's what this is."

"Oh, okay. Social security number please."

(Gave her my info.)

"It looks like we tried to deposit it, but your bank rejected it. Did you give us the right number?"

"I checked the number several times. I know I put the right one on there."

"Well, we're showing a 5-digit account number."

"Yeah, that's not right. Can we just fix the number so you can try depositing it again?"

"It looks like it's scheduled to be mailed on April 25th."

"Oh, okay. I guess that would be fine."

"We have you down at P.O. Box (whatever)."

"Uhhh.... that can't be right. I've never had a P.O. Box."

"It's in Spirit Lake, Idaho."

"Oh, well, my ex lives in Spirit Lake... but I'm not sure why you would have her address for me."

"Well, let's take a look here... (long pause)... have you done a change of address with the post office recently?"

"Yeah, but not to Spirit Lake! I think she may have done one with my name on it, but I did one too. Can't I just get it mailed to the address on my return?"

"For that, you'd have to fill out change-of-address form 8822 and mail it in."

"I don't want to change my address. I want it mailed to the address on my tax return."

"You'll have to fill out the form, sir, and mail it in."

"By the time I do that and get it to you, it'll probably already be in the mail."

"That's a possibility."

"Are you sure I can't just fix the checking account number?"

"Well, let me check a few things here..." (EXTREMELY long pause)...

"Are you still there?"

"Yes, my computer just locked up."

"Oh, okay." (an even LONGER long pause)....

"Did you get it back up?"

"No, it's locked up, and only a supervisor can unlock it."

"Oh. So where does that leave us?"

"It's getting mailed to P.O. Box (whatever) on April 25th."

"Fine. I guess I'll just call back if my ex doesn't get my refund."

End of transmission.

I love how the government takes something that already sucks and makes it as complicated as possible. Crap, I keep forgetting - I work for the government. Never mind.

Party on, Room 1117

2008-04-13T22:48:00.000-07:00

I took my engineer-in-training exam on Saturday. It was at the Spokane Convention Center, where about 150 other wannabe engineers converged for 8 hours of head scratching. Do I think I passed? I'm not sure. The morning session felt pretty good, the afternoon not so good. It didn't help that I had 2 hours of sleep the night before.

Yeah. 2 hours. In the book of practice problems for the exam, it suggests getting a hotel room near the test site. That way, you don't hafta worry about parking, and I thought it would be nice to get a good nights sleep. No such luck.

I spent most of Friday afternoon in a room at the downtown Ridpath, doing some last minute studying and enjoying the view from the 10th floor. I had a friend talk me into going to The Onion for dinner, and got back to the hotel a little after 9. Plenty of time to get a good nights sleep, so I thought.

Turns out, the people upstairs (in room 1117) didn't have a test to take. They got a room for one reason, apparently - to party. I could hear every detail of every stupid, drunken conversation they had. I laid awake most of the night, tempted to call the front desk... but I kept figuring they'd pass out. They finally did, around 4 in the morning. So, 2 hours later, my alarm went off. I figured I was screwed.

Surprisingly, after some coffee and a disgusting gas station sandwich, I was ready to go. The morning was fine. The afternoon sucked. I was exhausted.

Later that night, I waited for the elevator in the hotel lobby. There was a twenty-something girl standing there, also waiting to get on the elevator. When we got in, she sweetly asked:

"What floor are you on?"

"10", I replied. I glanced over as she pushed the 10 button, and noticed that the 11 button was also lit. I couldn't resist asking.

"You're not in room 1117, are you?"

"Yes. Oh God! Were we too loud last night? It's my aunt's room, and she got a little crazy!"

I pondered my response for a moment. I wanted SOOOO bad to say:

"Yeah, actually you were VERY loud. I got a room here just so I could get a good night's sleep, prior to taking an 8 hour exam that I've spent months preparing for. Thanks to you guys, I got around 2 hours, and possibly bombed it."

But, I couldn't do it. I could tell she was genuinely concerned about the whole thing, so I simply replied:

"Nah, it's okay. Sounded like you guys were having a good time. At least tonight I'll know to expect it." Right about then we reached the 10th floor. I smiled as I stepped out, and she smiled back.

I stayed awake until about 3 am watching a poker tournament on TV, figuring I wouldn't be able to sleep again. Funny thing is, room 1117 was dead silent.

All night. :)

I'll Be Back

2008-04-07T23:33:00.000-07:00

Sorry about the hiatus, folks. My engineering exam is coming up and I've been pretty busy trying to prepare. I'll be back next week.

67 Million Simple Rules

2008-03-26T06:30:00.000-07:00

Awhile back I watched Micheal Moore's latest documentary, "Sicko". I've always enjoyed his documentaries, knowing full well he does somewhat "skew" things. Regardless, watching this film will piss you off. But, I think Micheal Moore's appeal is his ability to talk about very controversial subjects, in a way that makes you laugh. Here's a trailer for "Sicko". One of my favorite parts is when President Bush tells a woman that she's a "great American" because she works three jobs:

There is one thing, however, that Michael Moore doesn't really address in the movie. I'm pretty sure that one of the major contributors to outrageously priced healthcare is frivolous malpractice lawsuits. Case in point? Amy Yasbeck, wife of late actor John Ritter.

Most people know that John Ritter (one of the founding fathers for Menage a Trois), died awhile back from aortic disease. His family decided he died unnecessarily, and sued a Burbank hospital. As a result, they received around $14 million in settlements. Now, you'd think that would be more than enough for most people to retire on. Not for Miss Yasbeck.

She REALLY wanted to teach that pesky cardiologist who treated Mr. Ritter a lesson. So, someone (duh, her lawyer) figured how much "earnings" the family lost out on because of his death. In the neighborhood of... oh.... $67 million. Although, she did pledge to use some of the proceeds to further the publics knowledge of "aortic diseases". I've been checking my mail, and wondered why I haven't seen anything yet.

Turns out, the doctors did end up getting cleared of any wrongdoing. Unfortunate for Miss Yasbeck, incredibly fortunate for the general hospital-going public. You see, if she had won, the doctor wouldn't be footing the bill. His malpractice insurance would. Which is why malpractice insurance is so expensive. Which is why the doctor who delivered my son, couldn't deliver my daughter. His malpractice insurance became prohibitively expensive. Largely, I'm sure, due to stupid lawsuits. And who ends up paying more for all of this?

We do.

Are there crappy doctors out there? Yeah. Should they be held accountable? Yeah. Should people screw the public out of their own personal grief and/or greed? HELL no.

So, next time you're deathly ill and debating whether or not to spend the money on a doctor, think of Miss Yasbeck. How should anyone be expected to "go on" with a few paltry millions?

But, my biggest beef in all of this - Michael Moore is filthy rich. I think it's time he looked into a personal trainer. :)

Weeds

2008-03-17T06:30:00.000-07:00

Over the weekend, I watched the entire first season of the Showtime series "Weeds". It's the only other TV show I've watched besides "The Office" that actually makes me laugh out loud. The series follows a soccer mom in a California suburb who decides to sell pot after her husband dies of a heart attack.

It's crude. It's obnoxious. It's extremely non-P.C. But above all, it's brilliantly written. I even love the intro song:

What really weirds me out is how one of the kids on the show was the voice of "Nemo". Strange, because he says very non-Nemo things.

Are you out there, Brent? Have you seen this show? If not, you need to. You'll love it.

Lightning Crashes

2008-03-16T21:54:00.000-07:00

I stumbled across this video on YouTube the other day, and I couldn't believe that I'd somewhat forgotten about this particular song. I thing it's one of the most beautiful songs ever written.

For the Love of Guns

2008-03-13T06:30:00.000-07:00

Most of my friends growing up had guns. I lived in North Idaho, after all. I remember going to see buddies at Post Falls High School, and several of the trucks in the parking lot had hunting rifles in the back window. I even remember a teacher wanting to check one of the guns out, so he had the student bring it into the school. And the time someone brought their gun to class as part of a project they were working on.

It was all so innocent.

My Dad wasn't a hunter. He was a microbiologist. We didn't go tromping around in the woods, except to get firewood. And we didn't have guns.

When I went to Marine Corps boot camp, people were amazed by the fact that I was from North Idaho -and had never shot a gun. It seemed like most of the guys there grew up hunting, and playing football. I played trombone in the pep band. Trust me, I often wondered how I ended up joining the Marines myself.

A couple years ago, I had a neighbor ask me if I wanted to buy a gun. I actually had thought about buying a pistol, just for taking camping to shoot at cans. He had a semi-automatic Smith & Wesson .22 pistol, that had a 12 round clip. The price seemed right (like I would know!), so I decided to buy it.

At first, it made me really nervous. I kept it in a high cupboard out in the garage, and stored the ammo somewhere else. Some people thought it was strange that I wouldn't keep it loaded next to the bed. I didn't see any reason to, other than to make it easily accessible for the kids.

I occasionally took it in the woods, and did just what I bought it for - shot at beer cans. It was fun, but I didn't have any urge to go buy 10 more guns. It's still the only gun I've ever owned.

A few weeks ago, I had someone offer to make me a holster for my pistol as a birthday present. I'm always cool with handmade gifts, and I needed a holster anyway. I sent the gun his way. What I got back is nothing short of amazing. (Click on the pictures for a closer view).

This thing is totally custom made for my gun. The leather was wetted, stretched, and clamped around the gun itself. The stitches were done by hand, and the belt slits were given much consideration so it wouldn't "bottom out" if I sat down with it on. It's given me a whole new appreciation for guns in general.

I love the way it fits so tightly, but the pistol slides right out. The retainer snap is easily undone with a flick of my thumb. I can't help but strap this sucker on, and see how fast I can draw, like I'm in the Wild West.

Someday, when my kids are older, I'll probably take them out shooting. In the world we live in, I want them to understand, appreciate, and fear what guns are capable of. If they're interested, I might even learn to hunt - with them. I don't really have anything against hunting, I just wasn't raised to understand it. Maybe there will be a time with my kids.

I'll probably need something bigger than my .22 pistol, though. I better get more guns.

Clock-Setting Woes

2008-03-10T13:04:00.001-07:00

It happens every year at this time.

We've all got a plethora of clocks to change, due to the "spring-forward" time change. Shouldn't be that big of a deal. THEN WHY IS IT?!?

I have a nice Kenwood stereo in my truck. I bought it because it has a USB port, where I can plug in a 4 gigabyte flash drive. I've got like 80 of my favorite albums on there, that I can quickly pick and choose from. And, I don't hafta worry about it skipping, I don't hafta change CD's while driving, etc. It's awesome.

Setting the clock? Not so awesome.

EVERY time I go to adjust the time, I need the manual to do it. I think that's crap. What's so hard about putting a "clock" button on there, alongside a "hour" and "minute" button? I think most people could figure that out. But no. Press the MENU button. Click the control knob up 3 times, then hold for 1 second. Now that I've typed it, it seems simple. It's just not something I feel necessary to commit to memory, considering I do it twice a year.

I'm sure you've all had similar frustrations with other electronics, like clock radios. I bought a super-cool one, that had a CD player so I could wake up to my own music. Problem was, I never really did take the time to figure out how to use it. The buttons on it made no sense at all. Everytime I tried to set the alarm, the "NAP" function would come on, with the radio blaring. And I had no idea how to turn it off. It wasn't something I cared to take the time to figure out.

People always wonder why it is that kids seem to understand electronics. I've finally realized why that's true. They have the time to screw around with it. I just want the stupid thing to work, without spending an hour researching it. :)

Flatulence

2008-03-04T22:19:00.000-08:00

I recently got a "Healthier at Home: The Proven Guide to Self-Care & Being a Wise Health Consumer" book in the mail. It's basically a home health guide, provided free-of-charge from my health insurance company, Group Health. At first, I was excited to have such a thing. I've never had one before. I did realize after thumbing through it, however, that the key phrase in the title is "self-care". It's fairly obvious to me that the books intent is to make people more informed about minor health issues, so you don't run to the doctor for every stupid thing. After all, it's provided by a health insurance company. My favorite section? Flatulence. For those who are uninformed:

6 to 20 times a day? Whoa! I started thinking, do I fart that much everyday? I hope not. It must be while I'm sleeping. Yeah. And I've always wondered what that "foul odor" was a symptom of. Now I know!

So, what does the book prescribe for self-care/prevention of flatulence? It says try not to swallow air, add fiber gradually, use Gas-X, blah blah blah... but the best option by far:

Bingo. You just saved a trip to the doctor! And forget the embarrassment... going to another room benefits us all!

Thank you, Group Health. Armed with my little self-care book, I'll never go to the doctor again. :)

Perseverence

2008-03-02T21:19:00.000-08:00

I bought this poster for my basement bar a few years ago. I've always been a fan of 40 ounce malt liquor (hence my band's name - 40 ounce J), and found the caption to be kinda funny:

PERSEVERENCE

THE TASTE OF MALT LIQUOR COMES WITH THE FIRST SIP OF A FORTY.

THE TASTE OF VICTORY COMES WITH THE LAST.

Interesting, how something bought out of whimsy can suddenly become the anthem of your life.

I'll drink a 40 to that. And pour out a little for all my homies along the way.

11 Month Anniversary?

2008-02-29T06:00:00.000-08:00

A little under a year ago, my five year old son decided he wanted a mohawk. I was a somewhat reluctant at first. Would it be wrong to chop the locks of such a cute little kid? Especially right before Easter? Nope. Hair is a renewable resource (well, at least when you're little). And he'd been asking me for quite some time. You see, he wanted to be a little punk rocker - like his Dad. At least that's what I told myself. So I did it, and he loved it. Today, my friends, we celebrate this momentous occasion: my son's First Mohawk.

Makes me wish I'd taken a picture of him with his First Mullet...

There's only one video that illustrates the excitement of this event:

So Much For My "Place of Tranquility"!

2008-02-27T12:58:00.001-08:00

For anyone that saw my first post on here, "Such is Life", they read about this special place I found near some bridges in Montana. When I was returning from Montana last weekend, I considered stopping to show the kids. I didn't, but glanced over as we drove by on the freeway. I noticed an odd-looking truck parked on the bridge. I didn't think much of it.

Well, I just found out that my "special place" was the site for a body dumping last week. The dude ended up turning himself in. I think that truck I saw was part of a search operation. Check it out at the Missoulian here.

I guess it's a good thing I didn't take the kids down there. And so much for serenity. Such is life. :)

3 Hours in One Minute

2008-02-26T21:06:00.000-08:00

I have a fascination with time-lapse photography. One of my favorite parts of "Extreme Makeover, Home Edition" is when they have that one shot of the house being built - In a matter of seconds.

Awhile back I got the k'nex "Serpent's Spiral" for my son. As we started building it, I realized it would be a pretty good subject for a time-lapse movie. So, after 3 hours of building, I compressed the video down to around a minute. Not quite "Extreme Makeover" cool, but still kinda cool.

Winner! - Crappiest Kid's Meal Toy Ever

2008-02-24T21:31:00.001-08:00

Any parent knows the drill. Kids love fast food. It's ingrained into their DNA from childbirth. Our kids know Ronald McDonald as well as we knew Joe Camel. Except Ronald is still legal. Oops. I'm getting off track here.

I've always wondered - is it more the food, or the toy that comes with the meal that excites kids? I remember getting Happy Meals, and not really caring about the food. I just wanted that toy. One time, I got a "Stomper" truck (remember those?) that I played with for years. I also remember getting pretty cool Lego sets, that now would probably cost $19.99 at the store.

You see it all the time. Parents frustrated with their kids, because they're playing with the toy instead of eating.

I never let my kids have the toy until they're done. Seems pretty simple to me. But, I always peek in the bag and say "Whoa! You guys are sure in for a surprise... when you're done!" You always want to encourage your kids to finish their food, even when it's incredibly unhealthy. I guess.

Today, I had a hard time doing that. The kids both got a Kids Meal from a mall Dairy Queen. It included a hot dog, bag of chips, milk, even a coupon for a dessert when they're done. And the toy? Well, you've just got to see for yourself:

A tarantula? And a beetle? They were both made of extremely hard plastic. And, they both looked like they were dead. Good times!

The kids looked at me with confused, disappointed eyes. My son, for the first time ever, asked:

"What is it supposed to do?"

I wasn't sure what to tell him. I gave them their coupons for their treat, hoping they'd forget about the creepy things and move on with their lives.

With Dilly Bars in hand, they seemed unscathed. Better luck next time. :)

Although, now that I think about it, there was that miniature stuffed oven mitt from Arby's a few years back... that was pretty bad, too.

Thoughts From the Freeway

2008-02-22T12:28:00.000-08:00

The left-most lane on a freeway is the “pass” lane. It’s not the “Sunday drive” lane. If you’re in it, you should be passing someone. If you’re not, get the hell out of the way.

I don’t know how many times I’ve seen people weaving around traffic at high-speed… just to end up right in front of me at the exit stop light. Way to save time there, jackass!

When you’re merging onto the freeway, YOU need to yield. If people move over to let you on, that sure is nice of them. If not, slow down or speed up to stay out of their way. Don’t just casually slide over, expecting everyone to clear a hole for you. Especially when it’s a big truck you’re merging into.

Speaking of big trucks, give those guys a break. It’s a good bet they’re a better driver than you are. It’s also a good bet that in a collision, you will lose. Give ‘em some space and respect. I see them do it all the time.

When I see a car plastered with religious bumper stickers, I don’t think “Wow. What a dedicated Christian!” I usually think about WJWD (What Jesus Wouldn’t Do). If Jesus had a car, I highly doubt it would have any cheesy bumper stickers on it.

If you STILL smoke in the car with your kids, you’re a lazy, selfish moron. That, more than anything, puts visions of road rage in my head.

If you and another car pull up to a four-way stop at the same time, the person on the RIGHT is supposed to go. If you are the person on the right, don’t confuse everything by waving the other person on. Know that you have the right-of-way, and commit. (This has nothing to do with the freeway, but I had to throw it in cause it drives me insane).

One of my favorite things to do on the freeway is to randomly wave at people. At first, they look at you intently to see if they recognize you (they wouldn’t want to wave to someone they don’t know!) More times than not, they just ignore you. Kinda sad, I think.

She's a Good Ship... Fortunately

2008-02-20T08:03:00.001-08:00

Update: I guess I better clarify here. This is not a "body of water". It's a low spot at the local sledding hill. I walked across it in my Sorels without getting wet.

Lost - The Serious Seinfeld

2008-02-14T17:06:00.000-08:00

I'm not much of a TV person. I would much rather watch movies that sitcoms. I think part of it is knowing that if I watch one episode, I might get sucked in and get stuck watching it every week - usually feeling like I should be doing something else.

When the show "Lost" first came out, I constantly heard people at work talking about it. A bunch of people stuck on an island? Sounded lame. I had already burned out on Survivor - and didn't Gilligan kinda cover that in the 60's?

I ended up giving it a go, and like everyone else... found myself wanting to know what would happen next to those poor saps. The story itself kinda drove me nuts... but I dug the whole "sci-fi" aspect of it. I did like the episode where they found the Volkswagen full of beer and got it fired up:

My favorite episode, though... the HATCH (click on the picture at left for a more detailed view). What a killer season ender. And then, the whole continuing saga of what happens in the hatch. I think that was the most brilliant part of the whole series.

I'm not sure what my deal is with clearance-priced pop-culture toys lately (see My Own Personal Elvis here), but I came across this baby in the music store at the Valley mall. Marked down from $29.99 to.... $11.99! I couldn't resist. It was just too damn cool.

Here's a miniature Jack, Locke, Kate, and Hurley peering down the chasm of what is the hatch. The detail is actually pretty good, for a crappy mall store diorama. There's a switch that makes the hatch hole light up (for extra dramatic effect!) It even came with a fake jungle photo background. What will I do with it? Hell if I know. Wait... I'm doing a blog about it.... that counts as something!

After the hatch blew up (on the show, not mine!), my interest in "Lost" mostly blew up with it. I started to realize something EXTREMELY annoying about the show - nothing ever seemed to get resolved. It had these incredibly dark, deep plots - that were never fully explained. They just seemed to continuously get deeper. (I felt the same way about the show "Alias", by the way). It started reminding me of Seinfeld, in how it was kind of a "show about nothing". Except, it wasn't in a funny way. It was in a jam-a-fork-in-your-eyeball frustrating way.

I heard someone talking about "Lost" at work yesterday. I didn't even know it was still on. Maybe I'll catch an episode in my "free" time (what's that?). I'm thinking they're probably... still on the island?

For the last episode of the series, they should find a 70 year-old Gilligan in the jungle. Now THAT would be something. :)

Back To School

2008-02-11T23:25:00.000-08:00

When I took a new job last summer, it came with a condition - that I pass the F.E. (Fundamentals of Engineering) exam before the end of 2008. The F.E. exam is the first step towards getting a P.E. (Professional Engineer) license. Most engineers take the F.E. exam right after graduating with a bachelors' degree. You know, when the stuff is still fresh.

I started college back in the fall of 1993. I was never meant for higher education, considering I barely finished high school. After going through Marine Corps boot camp (which I did because I had nothing better to do), I realized something. There was this little thing called the G.I. Bill, where the government sent me a check - for being in college. What the hell, I figured. I'm down with free money (especially from the government), so I enrolled at North Idaho College.

I had absolutely no direction in what I was supposed to do. I was a band geek in high school, so I decided that was a good place to start. I majored in music for two years - long enough to realize that wasn't what I wanted to do. I also realized I was STILL a horrible student. So what did I do? Switched majors to engineering. Brilliant.

No exaggerating here... I took almost every class twice before I passed it. And I emphasize PASS. There was a time when my GPA was like a 1.0 or some god-awful thing like that. I actually got a letter from the government saying if I didn't bring up my grades I'd hafta pay the money back. Crap.

Like many, I ended up getting serious with a girl while going to school. That was enough to make me realize I better get my shit together. So I scraped by enough to graduate, with an Associate of Science degree (it only took me 5 years!) I got my diploma and never looked back.

Now, I'm getting ready to take an exam that covers all those topics I took around 10 years ago. In preparation, I signed up for an evening "refresher" course at Gonzaga University a couple times a week. I showed up the first night, completely stressed out. Would I remember anything?

Luckily, it hasn't been that bad. I'm realizing I'm not nearly as stupid as I thought I was. So far, I'm finding everything to be pretty familiar - not bad, considering I was usually hungover when I took the classes back then. Well... when I showed up, that is. The weirdest part? I seem to be one of the "old" guys in the class. Funny, I don't remember getting old...

Wish me luck. My exam is in April.

And just so you know, I'm not the only person in the class. I always show up a little early, so I can study a bit before the professor comes in. Times sure do change.

Attack of Boozilla... Almost

2008-02-09T10:13:00.000-08:00

At last summers' Post Falls Day Parade, I took some random video footage with a little video project in mind. As we sat there watching from the curb, I had this vision of a giant "Godzilla" suddenly appearing, wreaking havoc on the parade.

I've had some limited success in using the "keying" effect on my video software. For those that don't know, keying is what you call using a "green screen" in the background, so you can superimpose shots over one another. It's how meteorologists put themselves over a map in the background.

One time, I used a green blanket background to insert someone into a 80's music video. It worked okay, but I needed something bigger so I could get a full person in the shot. I noticed my software also has a "blue screen" option, so I thought that maybe I could use a big blue tarp. As you'll see, it didn't work so well. There's too many wrinkles and shadows, so I couldn't fully key out the background. The lighting was also wrong, so the characters ended up fading out too much. With every success there's failure, right? I'll keep working on it.

So, here's the work in progress. "Boozilla" comes on screen to attack, and the "Goo Ranger" comes in to stop him. I still plan on working on it - I'm thinking about going to a fabric store to try and find some fabric in that weird green color. Of course, the finished "film" will be here first (I know you can't wait!) :)

Update: During a "green screen" google search, I came across this fancy little suit. I could have all kinds of fun with this sucker! Too bad it's $225.

Although, maybe if I found the fabric, my Mom could whip something like this up...

Are you reading this, Mom?

Going Down... With Help

2008-02-06T06:30:00.000-08:00

Big brothers can be a pain. They don't like pink. They steal your covers. They want their Dad to read an Arthur book, while you want to read a princess book. They forget how little you are, and sometimes hurt you by playing too rough. Yes, big brothers are nothing but trouble.

But more times than not, they're at your side making sure you're okay.

My Own Personal Elvis

2008-02-02T08:34:00.001-08:00

When Nirvana first came out, it was a huge deal for me. I went through most of my teen years listening to my brother's buttrock music. It consisted of Quiet Riot, Ratt, and various other big hair, exposed chest, tight leather pants bands. I liked the heavy guitar, but I always thought the singing was weird and the lyrics too cheesy.

"Smells Like Teen Spirit", Nirvana's breakout single, grabbed me like nothing else before. Here was some freakishly skinny dude, wailing on a guitar who didn't seem to care if he made mistakes or not. Yup. Pretty much where I was at in life at the time.

Kurt Cobain was really nobody special. He never wanted to be a big deal. He was just a loner from Aberdeen who had something to say, and the world embraced him. A little too hard, it turned out. Kurt ended up shooting himself in his garage.

He left a note, the text of which is here, and a picture of here. I'll never forget his famous last words, "It's better to burn out than to fade away."

I found this little action figure of Kurt at Spencer's Gifts in the Spokane Valley mall recently. It's a pretty good likeness, and even included a chunk of the gym floor from the "Smells Like Teen Spirit" music video. It was not prominently displayed. In fact, it was clearance priced for $5.98 (marked down from 20-something dollars). I wondered what Kurt would think about being clearance priced, in a shopping mall novelty store.

Would that be considered "burning out", or "fading away"?

Peace out, Kurt.

One of the Girls

2008-01-30T20:04:00.000-08:00

With the coming of my recent birthday, I was a little melancholy. In another life, I was used to my birthday being surrounded with much fanfare. It always included awesome gifts and/or a huge party. I knew that wasn't going to be the case this year. To be honest, I wasn't quite sure if that was a good or a bad thing.

One my co-workers, Micki, asked me a couple weeks previous if I would like to go out to lunch with her the day before my birthday. I gladly accepted. As the days went by, I had other friends at work ask me what I was doing for my birthday. I just said, "Micki is taking me out, but I'm sure you could come." I expected Micki would arrange for other people to come, also. On the big day, Micki came to my cubicle.

"Are you ready?" she asked. I kinda looked around, expecting there to be a crowd.

"Is anyone else coming?" I asked.

"Nope. It's just you and me." She replied.

For a split second I was a little bummed. But then I thought about it. I love Micki, she had kind of been my "mother from another mother" during a pretty hard time in my life. Just the two of us having lunch actually sounded good that day. We headed over to the La Milpa mexican restaurant next to our office. I can't believe I didn't even think about what was going on.

As we walked in, I was pleasantly surprised to see a big crowd waiting for me. I was a little puzzled, though, as I realized something - there wasn't a single dude there. I was in for quite a surprise.

I have a habit of greeting women at work with "Yeah, girlfriend!" Not in a "you're my girlfriend" way, but in a horribly-done ebonics way. Like we're all sisters in the 'hood. I guess it's just an Otis G thing. You know, seein' as how I'm a gangsta and all.

Anyway, the aforementioned women decided it was time for me to truly become one of the "girlfriends". They took it upon themselves to gather up a collection of "feminine" supplies, that I'd need on the road to womanhood. This included women's razors, bath gels, soaps, shower caps, heel files... and a "Life's Instruction Book For Women" book. I even got my own purse made out of bubble wrap and rubber bands, filled with my favorite gummy treats. I was truly honored. So I thought it was only appropriate to honor the "cast and crew" of this little venture, starting on the left in the back going counter-clockwise:

Darla, who will work any department, as long as it starts with a P

Inga Binga, who is truly concerned about how long people sit at red lights

Mrs. Incredible, with or without the costume

Deanna, who could take out Crocodile Dundee with a hole punch

Mary Kate and Ashley, supplier of exotic string cheeses (and bailed before the picture was taken)
Roxanne, who I can't help but poorly sing The Police song to

Prestigious, who I think maybe hates that I call her that

JJ, thrower of fake moustache parties

Amber, who is going to be a movie star someday - or at least in an Olive Garden commercial

Tricia, who was my friend when I wasn't sure if I had any (and hates nicknames, much to my dismay)

Micki, who I'll someday sing karaoke with at the next Otis G's Lower Level

Otis G, oblivious

Aleeeesa, who by getting pregnant provided me (and her) a new life

Peppermint Patty, who catches my mistakes before anyone else sees them

Krystal Ball, master of glue-laminated beams (in available sizes)

Carolyn, who would have a corner office, if it wasn't a cubicle

Thanks, girlfriends. Although, I hafta admit - I looked through my new "instruction" manual for women. I had a pretty good laugh when I read:

"You must be intimate with yourself before you can be intimate with others."

Sorry ladies. After all, I'm just a guy. :)

My Lifeline

2008-01-28T22:50:00.000-08:00

When I found out that Blink 182 broke up, I was a little bummed. I remember reading a Maximum Rock & Roll magazine (the staple punk fanzine back in the day), and seeing an ad for their first real album "Cheshire Cat." I never bought it.

It wasn't until their album "Dude Ranch" that I was enticed to have a listen. It was amazing. The guitar riffs were catchy, the lyrics were memorable, and I could relate to them. In fact, Blink 182 was the inspiration for much of my guitar playing and song writing. The big difference, though, was that most of their songs were "love" songs (or generally referred to relationships with girls). I was always determined to never sing love songs, considering 5,678,233 of them already existed. Well, I guess there was one other difference - their songs were good.

It was cool to watch a bunch of punk-rockers come out with album after album, that sold millions of copies. And, different from many bands, their music got progressively better. But it always kept that punk rock feel. It was like they were maturing with me, as I got older. And we both tried to remember our roots.

As I started down the road toward my thirties, they came out with one of my favorite songs. "What's My Age Again" was exactly how I felt at the time:

The hits continued. I bought every album, and loved almost every song. It was a good thing that CD's don't "wear out". Out of nowhere, during another peak in their popularity in 2005, they called it quits. Tom, the guitar player for Blink 182, started a new project called Angels and Airwaves. I didn't pay much attention to it, knowing it probably wouldn't be as good as Blink was.

Mark (the bass player), and Travis (the drummer), started a new band called +44. It sounded promising, as they were keeping with the same punk rock feel. Their first big single, "When Your Heart Stops Beating", is pretty cool. I also think the video is very well done:

I continued to avoid listening to Tom's band, Angels and Airwaves. I'd seen a few blurbs about it on the internet, and it seemed like a bunch of crap. I actually felt a little bad for Tom, as most everything I saw talked about what a horrible singer he is. It wasn't until I got their latest album for Christmas that I decided to really give them a listen. Much to my surprise, I was drawn in.

It has a completely different feel. The tempo is slower. The lyrics have a deeper meaning. At first listen, I thought it was okay. Now, I think it's incredible. I kinda feel that once again, Tom has matured with me. He's still writing songs that relate to exactly what I'm going through in life. When I first heard "Lifeline", I was floored. It nearly perfectly describes something that I just went through. This isn't the official video for it (it's one that somebody made), but I dig the cheesy sci-fi visuals:

Unfortunately, I still agree with most about Tom singing live. It's not very good. But hell, neither is mine. Maybe we'll work on that together, as the years go by. Angels and Airwaves has already inspired me to write a completely new kind of song. It'll be posted here sometime in the near future.

This post is dedicated to my lifeline. Her name is Lorie.

Onward

2008-01-27T15:54:00.000-08:00

At times like this, it's a good thing you know where you're headed.

Kicking Your Fears in the Nuts

2008-01-26T15:55:00.000-08:00

I think most everyone has an instinctive "fear" of something. Fear of heights, fear of aliens, fear of pinto beans...

I've known a few people over the years that were scuba divers, who raved about it. Now, I'm a fairly adventerous person. I'll give pretty much anything a go. But going underwater? HELL no.

And it wasn't a fear of drowning, claustrophobia, or running out of air that bothered me. I was convinced that the first time I hit the deep, I'd run smack dab into a dead body. Dead bodies, in of themselves, don't bother me so much. But one that's been sitting in the bottom of the lake rotting for God-knows-how-long does. I'd imagine turning a corner somewhere, and coming face to face with a corpse. And it would be staring right at me. It would be a "Caddyshack" moment at the surface, where a Snicker's looking object would suddenly appear. Followed by a rush of bubbles, and a SECOND dead body. More specifically, me.

My buddy Farnsworth, who I've known since high school, had recently got into scuba diving. It was a natural for him, considering he has a house on Lake Coeur d'Alene where he spends most of his summer time. He'd been telling me about how cool it was for awhile, and I'd just kinda nod my head in agreement. I was glad that HE was the one who'd be running into bodies underwater.

This last summer, he finally popped the question. He had just got a bunch of new gear, and had an extra set. And was looking for a dive buddy. More specifically, me. Shit. I decided to put my fears aside and see what all the hooplah was about. So here we are. And by the way, Farnsworth calls me Cornstarch. I'm still not sure why.

And I'm still scared of spiders.

Talk About a Fish Out Of Water...

2008-01-25T23:55:00.001-08:00

As a sidebar to my last post, after spending some time at the canyon I decided to head up the dirt road a bit. I came across this little roadside attraction. Weird.

This thing still looked fairly seaworthy, to just be left on the side of the road. Such is life. :) Okay, seriously, I'm moving on from that concept.

Now you know where I got my header photo from.

Reminded me of my first (and so far, only) scuba diving excursion. That'll be next time.

Such Is Life.

2008-01-25T05:30:00.000-08:00

In my recent travels to Montana, I started noticing something off to the side of the freeway. It was in a particularly beautiful area, where there’s purplish rocky cliffs overlooking an amazing canyon river. And, much to my delight, there are not one, but TWO old bridges spanning the canyon. On the way home from my latest adventure, I decided to actually get off the freeway and see if I could figure out how to get to them. I pulled off I-90 at the Fish Creek exit and headed towards the river.

I’ve always been fascinated by bridges, especially old railroad ones. I love the idea of a bunch of steel, bolted together in a maze of skeletal trusses, which is able to support the weight of a freight train. This particular spot was a jackpot. Not only was there an incredible old railroad bridge, there was also a steel truss road bridge going underneath of it. Plus, the newer (sexier?) I-90 bridges were right next door. I parked my truck off the road, and decided to have a closer look.

The canyon there is breathtaking. And, surprisingly, there was a forest service campground right next to the bridges. Considering the road was inaccessible, and the temperature was around 14 degrees, I decided against pitching a tent. Instead, I climbed the bank of the old railroad grade to get a better perspective of everything.

As I looked down the deck of the old Milwaukee Road bridge, I had a slight inclination to re-enact that scene from the movie “Stand By Me”. You know, where the kids try to cross a river on a railroad bridge, only to have a steam engine roar up behind them when they’re only halfway across. But, I figured it would probably end up being more of a “jungle expedition” movie scene - where a board gives and they go crashing into the drink, hundreds of feet below. I decided against it. Oh yeah, plus it’s illegal. And there were several Montana Rail Link work trucks nearby. Dammit.

Instead, I sat on an old railroad tie to smoke a cigarette and enjoy the peaceful surroundings. A peace I haven’t experienced for quite some time now. I started to think about things. A lot of things.

I am fascinated not just by old railroad bridges, but old railroad grades. The old Milwaukee Road grade, which parallels I-90 from near Lookout Pass to…uh…somewhere east… is particularly amazing to me. How someone actually considered this route to be possible (or profitable!) astounds me. (Area specific history here.) Anyone who’s ever experienced the Hiawatha bike trail (which is converted Milwaukee Road grade) knows how many bridges and tunnels had to be constructed. Over the years, as I’ve driven to Montana for camping trips on the St. Joe River, I’ve observed that old grade and imagined the labor, expense, and time it took to build such a thing. And the excitement it provided as people zipped by in parlor cars, possibly seeing western mountains for the first time. What an incredible experience. And legacy. But I also wonder - how does something so labor intensive, so grand, so beautiful… suddenly cease to exist?

Such is life.

Suddenly, I hear a rumble in the distance. It was a Montana Rail Link train, approaching from the east on an adjacent track. It's interesting how one railroad is abandoned, while another parallel railroad presses on. With it’s own uncertain future, of course.

Such is life.

As I continued home towards Idaho, I once again observed that old Milwaukee Road grade. I watched it snake around the canyon, eventually curving away from the freeway near the Taft Area. Just below where the Hiawatha bike trail begins. And I thought about how something old and abandoned was remade - into something new and amazing. With a different form and function. And a completely new purpose.

Such is life. I hope.

For everyone.

And the otis G experience begins.