Thursday, June 30, 2005

Here, Let Me Stick This Flaming Wax In Your Ear...

Does this look like a good time?:

The procedure is called "Candling". The candle is stuck in your ear and lit on fire. Then a magical vaccuum is created that is supposed to get all the wax, goo and related nasties. This could include Candida Fungus. It's the new colonic irrigation.

That's great. It'll cleanse my chakras, drain my lymph system and kill a yeast infection. In my ears. Who in christ gets a yeast infection in their ears and what were they. doing the night before? And, if they were doing what I think they were doing, frankly they deserve what they get.

And by that I mean syphilis.

Tuesday, June 28, 2005

Zombie Dogs, Narcolepsy and Caterwauling

Almost as frightening as the idea that Red Sox pitcher, Bronson Arroyo, is releasing an album of cover tunes, Pittsburgh scientists have found a way to reanimate dead dogs.

Zombie Dogs! Live (at least for a few hours) in Pittsburgh!

Comments about the irony of this given that Pittsburgh is the home to George A. Romero and the birthplace of scores of zombie flicks aside, how frigging creepy is this?!?! This has Cujo meets Frankenstein connotations.

I guess I may have found edges of my moral boundaries:
embryonic stem cell research: ok; dead dog reanimation: fuck no!

Ironically, if you type "zombie dogs" into the search engine on you get a list of Grammy nominees from 1996.

In closing:

Zombie dogs = scary!

Narcoleptic dogs = funny!

Poor Rusty...

Monday, June 27, 2005

Jack's the news...

Mr. Scoop is working overnights at the radio station this week. I'm slowly working my way back toward my natural state of being a "night person". Of course, I'm supposed to tutor little children for 4 weeks starting next week in reading and math from 8 to noon. So this slide back into noturnal habits bodes really well...

Here's an interesting, and completely unrelated, article:

New Jack The Ripper Theories Put Sleuths In A Spin

"A handout photograph, taken in the late 1880s and released June 27, 2005, shows Sir John Williams, ancestor of Tony Williams, the author of a new book on Jack the Ripper. In his new book entitled 'Uncle Jack', Williams proposes that Jack the Ripper was his ancestor John Williams, a gynecologist to Queen Victoria's children and the founder of the National Library of Wales.

Williams had set out to explore his family history when he stumbled upon a box of Sir John's personal effects, including a knife, three medical slides and diaries with the 1888 entries ripped out. He discovered that besides his posh Harley Street surgery, Sir John had a clinic in Whitechapel, giving him access to the prostitutes who thronged the area. His medical notes showed he had performed an abortion on the Ripper's first victim, Mary Ann Nichols, in 1885. Williams believes Sir John was enraged by the prostitutes he saw getting pregnant while his own wife was unable to have children and killed them either out of vengeance or to use their organs for researching a cure for infertility. "

I'm not sure we'll ever definitively solve who Jack the Ripper really is. Deep down, I don't think we really want to. I will say that Alan Moore's take on the subject was infinitely better than Michael Caine's. But, as long as the story provides fertile material for writers and amateur sleuths, the story is never going to be put to bed.

Saturday, June 25, 2005

Experiment! Or: My First Day Of Vacation


Summer vacation is finally here. This whole week was a whirlwind of grading finals, packing the room up until September and final rounds of frantic parent phone calls.

I was so wiped out by the end of the week that I didn't even drink last night. Instead, I crawled into bed at 9pm having been able to manage nothing more taxing with my evening than reading the final TPB in the "Transmetropolitan" series (One More Time.) and occasionally, weakly, shouting at Rachel Ray, who I had been to lazy to switch channels from. I went to bed hoping for dreams in which Spider Jerusalem would zap Rachel Ray with his Bowel Disruptor.

Bright Eyed And Bushy Tailed

As a reward, I awoke at 7:30 this morning with an unusual spring in my step. I've been told that this is what it is like to not have a hangover. I may have to explore this practice in more depth. After I buy more beer.

The Great Egg Experiment

I'm a huge fan of Anthony Bourdain. I think A Cook's Tour. is one of the greatest pieces of television ever made (and it's criminal that they only show it at 4am on Wednesday mornings. Thank God for TiVo, DVD burners and Mr. Scoop.).

On one particular episode (San Sebastian), he visited a restaurant called Arzak. He tried an unusual egg dish. Here's what he had to say about it:

"...and then an alarmingly shrewd yet deceptively simple creation I'd never seen nor even heard of before: a fresh duck egg, whole, yolk and white undisturbed, which had been removed carefully from the shell, wrapped in plastic with truffle oil and duck fat, then lightly, delicately poached before being unwrapped and presented, topped with wild-mushroom duxelles and a dusting of dried sausage. It was so good. It hurt to eat it." (A Cook's Tour, HarperCollins, 2001).

This dish sounds impressively rich and over-the-top. And, alas, I currently am without truffle oil and duck fat in the house. Or duck eggs.

But, it was the poaching method that intrigued me. It was at once ingenious and yet, blindingly obvious. I can't believe I've never thought to do this before.

The Method

I love poached eggs. But, the biggest problem I have with them is their tendency to get water-logged when using the traditional method (simmering salted water, with or without the addition of a capful of vinegar). I also don't like poaching insets because I've never gotten them to cook the eggs evenly enough for my tastes; the bottoms will cook while the tops (particularly the whites) stay gooey and runny.

In this method, the saran wrap helps the egg to hold its shape while also protecting it from intrusion by the water in which it poaches.

To begin with, carefully place an 8 inch square of Saran Wrap (or whatever plastic wrap you hate least - it is Satan's creature) in a tea cup or cup size ramekin allowing the sides to hang loosely over the edges of the cup. Spray the wrap with nonstick spray (like Pam). Gently, crack the egg into the wrap. Try not to break the yolk. Then gather up the sides. If you've done it right, the egg won't try to escape. It should look like this:

Secure the egg in the wrap with a twist tie. Then place it in simmering water (should cover the egg to just below the twist tie).

Poach to desired doneness (I think I left mine in for about 5 minutes).

When you remove the egg, unwrap it on some paper towels to absorb any moisture that might have accidently gotten into the plastic (a little got into mine).

Then place them on the plate (I put them on buttered English muffins) and eat!

The one on the right broke a little because I wasn't quite as careful as I should've been. The eggs are delicate coming out of the wrap - be careful!

The texture of the eggs was perfect. The yolks did not overcook. I recommend this technique. I also like the idea that I can add ingredients (like herbs or a flavored oil) to the eggs prior to wrapping them to infuse them with flavor.

Try this. It's a great idea. This must be one of the many reasons why Elena Arzak, who came up with the dish Anthony Bourdain wrote about, makes the big bucks.

Must save money to go to Spain and eat at Arzak.

Must learn Spanish to not make fool of self in Spain.

"Donde esta my pants?"

Tuesday, June 21, 2005


Today, I inflicted finals in English on my kids. Here's how it worked:

On Thursday, I gave them an open ended essay question pertaining to the last book they read in class. My freshmen are reading Flowers For Algernon . . My sophomores are reading Speak. .

Because they have disabilities related to reading and writing, I assigned mandatory notetaking in the form of flashcards, as well as mandatory outlines. It occurs to me that if I'd been assigned the tasks I gave them, I'd have blown it off in favor of banging out the essay on the day of the test. However, I didn't find reading and writing difficult in school. They do. If it was easy for them, I wouldn't make them do it. I also wouldn't make it worth 50% of the overall test grade. Yes, I'm that . asshole teacher.

I was gratified today, however, when only one kid freaked out and didn't show up. Additionally, only 2 others blew off the outline. All of them made the flashcards (all 25-30, complete with appropriate citation info). As far as the essay went, I only required 5 solid paragraphs (I have some really, really limited kids). Still, the majority of them used the 2 hour test period to compose typed, double spaced essays in 12 point font that were between 3-5 pages - in many cases this is the most any of them has written, ever. Having given them a quick once over, the essays are even coherent; some actually show a fair amount of insight on the assigned question. I think they impressed themselves. I already figured they would impress me.. They just needed to figure that out for themselves.

Monday, June 20, 2005

Rainman Tells Me That Every Day Must End.

Go Home!!!

If you weren’t sure you’d spent entirely too much time at work and needed confirmation that it’s time to go home, take a bathroom break. Then have the custodian’s autistic son walk in on you while you’re still in there. Larry doesn’t care that the door is closed. Larry doesn’t understand about “knocking” and he certainly doesn’t have time for “words”. Larry doesn’t care that you’ve done something that is probably outlawed by the Geneva Convention while in there; you’re between his stuffed shark and the sink and by God it’s bath time for Bongo and you’re in the damn way.

I Thought The Door Was Locked.

I’m washing my hands. I’m daydreaming about how great my job would be if I could take all the annoying people I deal with and ship them to The Phantom Zone (although, I’m not sure I could handle any one of them coming back and asking me to “Kneel before Zod”). I’ve been at work for 12 hours. In my reverie, I don’t notice as the door handle starts to turn. Before I can totally react, I’m suddenly accompanied in the bathroom by a twelve year old boy and his shark.

He tries to close the door. I wrench the door back open. He stares at me blankly while plaintively holding his shark out to me. Then he tries to close the door again. I yank it open while saying, “Excuse me! You need to wait…outside…” I have no idea how to handle this. I’ve heard rumors of this child’s existence. He tried to greet one of my fellow female coworkers by playing “motorboat” with her bosom.

Larry blinks at me. He tries to close the door again. I wonder where his dad is. His dad likes to wear headphones and a Walkman while he works. I don’t even know if he can hear that his son is invading my space. I’m at a loss as to what to do. I don’t want to lay hands on him; there’s liability issues to consider and I’m in a very enclosed space, on the off chance he twigs when touched. “Excuse me!!!” I shrill at the kid, “You need to go outside!” Larry stares up into my face. Somewhere in his brain, the hamster starts peddling – I’m not happy. They covered this in social skills class at the special school. If he tries real hard, it’ll come to him. His eyes widen and his body goes rigid. He looks me in the eye and his mouth forms an “O”. His hand flies to his face and, ultimately, he responds by making a popping noise as his hand smacks his open mouth, like some kind of mute Indian. His hand drops back to his side and he looks at me as though that should have cleared up our entire misunderstanding.

Deus Ex Patre

Finally, Larry’s dad appears. He springs into action. Larry is pulled roughly from the bathroom. “Sorry”, he says, “the door doesn’t lock. Usually, there’s no one here now. I didn’t know. He just wanted to give his shark a bath.”


As I sit here, sipping an excellent sake and dreaming about The Phantom Zone, I find it hard to be mad about the whole thing. If Larry had caught me with my pants down, it would probably be different. But, he didn’t. If the shark needs a bath, it needs a bath, God damn it. Who am I to get between a boy and his shark? Besides, the kid really wouldn’t be able to handle The Phantom Zone. He’s not Zod material. Non, maybe. And, Zod lets Non drive the spaceship slow on the driveway every Saturday. I know he does.

Saturday, June 18, 2005

I'd Like My Varsity Letter in Drunk Driving Now, Please.

Why I Drink (Reason #4,738)

I spent the evening at a comedy club. I did some time. I went onstage sober. It was ok. There were some laughs despite the copious amounts of rust that had accumulated since my last foray. I have a DVD of the set that I will analyze like an anal retentive football coach who remembers that the last time his team made the playoffs was five years ago but still hopes for rebound glory.

Being able to get a DVD of your set is a nice feature of the club, but you have to wait until the show is done to get your copy. So, I drank in order to kill time and to make the other acts funnier. In a couple of cases, no drinking was required at all: Ira Proctor, who consistently cracks me up and is one of the fastest rising young headliners in town and Brian Longwell, who calls himself a "Non-Motivational Speaker". Brian is also going to do the Edinburgh Fringe Festival in Scotland, which is pretty damn cool. Both guys have callbacks pending for the Montreal Comedy Festival. Go see these guys if you're in the Boston area.

Don't Drink And Drive!

I don't recommend drinking and driving. In fact, since I've been dating Mr. Scoop, I really haven't had to drive myself all that much, drunk or otherwise. This is because my car is elderly. My car is 13 years old. That makes it 130 years old in people years.

It gets twitchy under the best of circumstances (which is to say a slightly overcast, windless, 65 degree day in mild highway traffic...anything outside of that will make it choke like an over-eager porn actress).

Well, tonight, Mr. Scoop needed to go to sleep because his hard rocking lifestyle demanded he be up at 3 o'clock this morning. This left me to fend for myself car-wise.

Driving my car home drunk is like trying to land a quadruple Salchow ("sow cow") in figure skating. I have no suspension, lousy steering and a blood alcohol count that exceeds .08 - balanced by years of experience and a lot of heart. I will get the car home. I am the only one who can. Throwing booze into the mix just becomes this one other thing I have to deal with driving the car. I will open my windows, pop an Altoid and think good thoughts.

This is right up until I find myself in back of some other dingbat, drunker than me, who doesn't seem to realize that the street we are on has two lanes in either direction and a speed limit that lets you get to at least 40 mph. His drunk, clueless ass is plunked in the middle of both lanes as he does 25 mph and slowly weaves back and forth. I would pass him, but I've been drinking too. There are usually 3 radar traps between me and home, as well as passage past the local police station - I'm not going to risk it. Besides, I figure, if we do pass a cop, he'll get nailed before me.

About a 1/2 mile from my apartment, the drunkenly weaving individual took a right turn, without signaling, and left me alone on the road to finish my journey. I was left with conflicted feelings: relief that I had the road to myself, tempered by unrequited road rage.

Non-experienced drunken drivers, hear my plea - stay off the damn roads. There are serious people who know what they are doing with their booze and their car who would like to get the fuck home and can steer their car, despite the inebriation and the odds. Let us drive in peace on a late Saturday night. Your liver and your insurance agent will thank you. And I won't beat you with a tire iron if you have the misfortune to break down in front of me.


Coca-Cola has introduced a product called "Coca-Cola Zero" which comes packaged ominously in a black screw top bottle.

It seems to be intended to taste like regular Coke, but has no calories or carbs because it is a Nutrasweet product.

I don't drink a lot of regular Coke, so to my taste they seem to have pulled it off. Mr. Scoop thinks it doesn't taste quite right.

However, I'm going to mix this product right now with some Jack Daniels. Then I'm going to play "Outlaw Golf 2" and put this whole evening right out of my mind.

Friday, June 17, 2005

Life Imitates Art...

...and Art becomes angry at Life and sends a strongly worded email.

Fans of Warren Ellis may find this amusing:

Kitten Born With Two Faces

"A newborn kitten recently entered the world with two faces and, hopefully, at least nine lives. Gemini was born Sunday with two mouths, two tongues, two noses and four eyes. Roseburg veterinarian Alan Ross, who examined the kitten on Tuesday, said he can't estimate the kitten's life span. He said when he first saw the kitten, he wouldn't have given her more than a 10 percent chance of survival."

Are you kidding me? That cat must have 18 lives. Damn thing is probably going to live forever and wreak havoc on unsuspecting gekkos before eventually being adopted by a drug addled degenerate.

The Apocalypse is now. Get your shit together.

Tuesday, June 14, 2005

Well, I was wrong.

And, it's not the first time.

Yesterday, I bitched about the unrelenting heat that led to another power outtage in my building.

I suggested that the idea of the weather undergoing the notorious New England "wait-a-minute" change was lies.

I was wrong.

It is currently 53 degrees F. Very fall-like. I suspect that I will sleep well, despite my lack of faith in my region's climate. That might be the beer though.

Interesting Discovery

I'd like give a hearty "hello" to those folks that are visiting this site because they've typed into a search engine the following words (in any order): "Vanilla Ice", "Hit Me Baby", "Survivor", "Cover" and/or "Destiny's Child".

Glad to have you here. Together, you and I will reclaim the joy that was the early 90s. It will involve sacrifice, probably that of Courtney Love - but maybe it'll be Billy Ray Cyrus. Either way I think it will be worth it. Don't you?

Ice has decided to release the cover of "Survivor" on his upcoming album. It'll be in stores on August 1st - details here.

Monday, June 13, 2005

I Blackout...

...again, and again and again.


Not from alcohol.

I know. I'm as shocked as you.

For the 2nd time in the last week, we've lost power due to some whim of NSTAR.
After several days of high 80s to low 90s, someone looked at their air conditioning unit funny and shorted a circuit.

But, I live in New England. I hear tell that if I don't like the weather, I should just wait a minute.


Things To Do In Waltham If You're Dead. Or Bored During A Blackout.

Mr. Scoop has made it very clear that the next time I lose power - at twilight he wants a light saber duel in the parking lot.

He wants us to acquire the light sabers that make the appropriate noises and have reasonable heft and weight in the palm of one's hand.

I want ones that make lots of noise and keep the neighbors from telling us how they're transplants from Montana; how the alarm keeps going off in their . building; and how, if they get too close, maybe - just maybe, they might lose a hand. Just like Luke Skywalker.

However, I'm not telling anyone I'm their father unless I can write it off immediately on my taxes.

Saturday, June 11, 2005

In My Fantasy...

... this is the only good thing that would come out of the over-the-top media coverage of the break-up of Brad and Jennifer's marriage by Angelina Jolie.

That and something other than Paint to use to work with jpgs.

Yes, I have a lot of free time today because Mr. Scoop is playing GTA:San Andreas. Why do you ask?

Peeing On The Neighbors Is Bad: A Birthday, A Memory And A Recipe

Yesterday was Mr. Scoop's birthday! Because I'm a loving girlfriend, I got him "Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas" and "Star Wars: Knights Of The Old Republic II". I hope not to become an X-Box Widow because of this.

Recipe Alert!

I don't have a grill (I'm in an apartment), so here's what I did last night for dinner at Mr. Scoop's request:

The fried egg actually works really well with this. Paula Deen has a similar recipe.

The Colby Eight (with focaccia upgrade)

2 8 oz. beef patties (85% lean)
salt and pepper
2 1 oz. slices cheddar cheese
2 large eggs
1 8" round of focaccia (I used a rosemary and onion one from Panera)
Burger Condiments (although, because of the egg I'm partial to using only ketchup or chipotle hot sauce here)

1. Preheat oven to 375 F.
2. Slice focaccia in half lengthwise and then again through the middle. You should have four half moons.
Set aside while preparing the rest of the dish.
3. Heat a large heavy skillet to medium high. Season each side of the burgers with salt and pepper. Sear the burgers for about 3-4 minutes per side. Even if you like rare meat, they probably won't be done at this point because of the thickness. Remove to a baking pan and finish them in the oven for 7-10 minutes for medium rare to medium. 5-7 minutes for rare to medium rare. Add the cheese in the last 1 minute of cooking. Remove burgers from the oven and let them rest for at least 5 minutes.
4. While the burgers are resting, wipe out the skillet and lower to medium heat. You may want to add a little Pam or butter. Fry the eggs to desired doneness (Mr. Scoop likes his runny. I like them over-medium).
5. Assemble the burgers: Place a burger on each focaccia half. Top with a fried egg. Add whatever condiments you like. Top with other piece of focaccia. Eat immediately!

Serves 2 very hungry people.

Further Celebration

Unfortunately, Mr. Scoop had to be in bed by 7 last night to get up for his job (otherwise, how would the masses get their much needed dose of rock and roll at 6 in the morning?). So, to compensate, he began drinking yesterday around 1pm. This is not an uncommon occurance. He sticks to beer, because the Jack Daniels experiment lead to blackouts and a strong desire to scale brick walls. That . lead to peeing on the neighbors as they walked by while screaming "Run the gauntlet, fuckers!"

We had complaints.

Since he's drinking for his job, I wonder if he can write it off on his taxes? There's got to be receipts around here someplace.

Anyway, tonight we will further the celebration by indulging in Memphis style BBQ ribs from Jake and Earl's Dixie Roadhouse. The food is excellent and any place favored that much by Aerosmith is all right in my book. An outstanding restaurant in an area with many great places to eat. If you are in the Boston area, take a trip to Moody Street in Waltham. Damn fine restaurants.

And, now I must prepare for more birthday madness.

Thursday, June 09, 2005

And, Somewhere, Napolean Dynamite Cuts Himself. Just To Feel.

At least that was Mr. Scoop's opinion after watching Vanilla Ice's performance on NBC's "Hit Me Baby 1 More Time". Vanilla Ice will dance like the monkey you ask him to be. Especially if there is money involved (in this case, for his charity). Then, he will dance like no white man has ever danced before. Until the next white rapper.

Did you see this show? Why didn't you watch this? Dammit, they're going to have Wang Chung on next week. Watch this. I'm not kidding.

It's, like, take a bunch of one hit wonders from the 80s and early 90s and have them perform their greatest hit. Then they come out for the second half of the show and cover a "current" hit. Karaoke for the briefly famous.

Tonight we were treated to performances by The Knack, the guy who did the song used a lot in "Night At The Roxbury", Tommy Tutone, The Motel(s), and Vanilla Ice. Vanilla Ice clearly stole the show.

I've been watching Ice's comeback since his appearance on MTV when Denis Leary and Janeane Garofaolo (et al) tried to "retire" his video for "Ice, Ice Baby" and he destroyed the set with a baseball bat . Lotta rage there. I can respect that. They tried to make him put it in a blender. "Ice, Ice Baby" is his claim to fame. It's his cross. It's his albatross.

And anyone can tell you: you can't fit an albatross in a blender. Not really. You have to cut it up a lot first.

So, tonight, Ice showed up rocking the full Fred Durst look. Much better than the Hammer-esque balloon pants:

There, but for the grace of Durst...

But still, dude, Durst?!?!?


Nobody wants to be Fred Durst. The last Limp Bizkit album was recorded in Prague. You only go to Prague to record an album if you think you might need to avoid extradition for an offense like "finding a dead hooker on your property". Actually, our extradition treaty with the Czechs is 80 years old. You go to Prague because that is the cheapest way to keep Wes Borland medicated.

He may not noticed he's recording a new Limp Bizkit album if he's lost the ability to blink. That's all I'm saying.

But, back to Vanilla Ice:

Ice won me over with his cover of Destiny Child's "Survivor". He didn't even try to sing. He just rapped it out straight (more or check the lyrics. He changed some of the lyrics, but it still worked.).

If you can make me not actively hate a Destiny's Child song, I may keep listening.

Wednesday, June 08, 2005

Lightning Crashes

It Could Be Thunder. It Could Be A Low Flying Jet. But It's Probably Thunder.

We're in a doozy of a thunder and lightning storm right now. So, clearly I'm doing the smart thing by using the computer. I'm all about the smart thing.

One of the cooler things about where I live is getting to watch the church across the street get hit by lightning repeatedly. It's a wonder that the building hasn't burned to the ground yet.

The thunder and lightning has been particularly tenacious. It's been causing a ruckus since about 9pm. I'm curious if I will lose power. My block is notorious for losing power on cloudless days for no particular reason at all. The darkness will stretch from the D'Angelo's on the one side of my building all the way over to the nursing home across the street.

"Call The Heart Attack"

It's on these dark evenings that I like to play a game called "Call The Heart Attack". This is when you place an over/under bet on when the first of the nursing home residents across the street have a heart attack because of the outage. There are ambulances across the street about as often as Courtney Love gets busted for drunk and disorderly, anyway. They'll show up again. Just give them a minute. Whoever calls closest to when the first of the EMT's arrive on scene wins. What do they win? Well, you'll just have to visit during a blackout now, won't you? I promise it won't involve library paste or oranges. Maybe.

Tuesday, June 07, 2005

Take Off, Eh? It's Perfectly Normal To Carry A Chainsaw Over International Borders...

...and a hatchet. And brass knuckles. And a homemade sword.

And don't mind the stains that may or may not be blood.

Oh, and here's a picture. Clearly, he's the average boy next door:

From the article:

"On April 25, Gregory Despres arrived at the U.S.-Canadian border crossing at Calais, Maine, carrying a homemade sword, a hatchet, a knife, brass knuckles and a chain saw stained with what appeared to be blood. U.S. customs agents confiscated the weapons and fingerprinted Despres. Then they let him into the United States.

The following day, a gruesome scene was discovered in Despres' hometown of Minto, New Brunswick: The decapitated body of a 74-year-old country musician named Frederick Fulton was found on Fulton's kitchen floor. His head was in a pillowcase under a kitchen table. His common-law wife was discovered stabbed to death in a bedroom."

Ok, so let me get this straight:

We can divert planes from foreign countries to Bangor just because someone's name is the same as a name that appears on the "Do Not Fly List" and boot him or her out of the country to make us feel like we're protecting ourselves.

I have to take my shoes off and have them checked when I go through airport security because I might be packing tinder or fertilizer or C4 in my Manolo's. I can't have a lighter or nail clippers because they could create an unsafe scenario on the plane. I can't turn my cell phone on to play Bejeweled because it might muck with the plane's navigation system.

But if I'm in a car...and I'm not a rowdy underaged college kid looking to get drunk and look at strippers in Montreal for the weekend and then come home with booze that I'm not allowed to have on this side of the border (and, yes, I'm speaking from experience here)...then I can wander over the border with weapons that suggest that I took the last LARP I went on a little too seriously and no one will stop me. But, God help me if I make the error of winding up my travel clock before I get on a plane.

This kid looks like what would happen if Ed Grimley finally snapped:

I think I'm more angry that this kind of fuck up will give government more of an excuse to clamp down on our ability to travel freely, than I am that a complete psycho made it over the border with a weapons cache. Why give the government an excuse to make passports mandatory?

This guy wants to create an official FAQ for U.S. citizens that lets us know what we can and can't transport over the border.

I'm hoping he might include bloody chainsaws on the "Don't" list.

Saturday, June 04, 2005

All Right. That's Enough Outta Me...for the moment.

I will be going away this weekend. My stepgrandmother has unfortunately passed away due to lung cancer, even though she quit smoking 50 years ago. It's very much a bummer. I liked her, although I had not really known her that long. Ah, well. I'll be back Tuesday.

In the meantime, a few things I suggest to keep you occupied:

If You Are In The Seattle Area:

Go see "The Ugly American" at ACT Theater . Now. Go. It's getting awesome reviews and and it's written and performed by a tremendously talented guy I went to college with, Mike Daisey.

The show will be running there from June 4-26. Dates and venues for other performances and shows can be found on Mike's website.

The Walking Dead

Read. This. Comic.

Here's a quote about the book from the writer, Robert Kirkman (from Comic Book Resources):

"'The Walking Dead' is about a small town cop, Rick Grimes, and his epic story of protecting his family and staying alive in a world ruled by hordes of undead zombies," explains Kirkman. "I like to call it the zombie movie that never ends. I think what sets it apart from other horror books is the fact that I don't really try to scare people. I've gotten tons of fan mail from people saying the book creeped them out and that there is horrific stuff in the book, but really... I'm just trying to tell a survival story. I think the fact that I don't force the horror and it's just a product of the situation sets it apart... but then... what the hell do I know [laughs]."

It's a zombie movie that never ends! How cool is that?!
Read this damn book.


Systm is a new project - a Tech "How-To" Show - from Kevin Rose, late of TechTV/G4.

If you were a fan of The Screen Savers or thebroken, you'll really like this. It's free. You'll need BitTorrent and the DivX codec installed. Check it out!

So, That's It 'Til Tuesday.

I'm sure you'll miss me as much as I'll miss you.

Also, notice how I've learned how to open my links in new windows? Anyone? Anyone? That way I can hope to keep you here reading my bloggy goodness while also looking at the cool stuff I tell you to look at. I'm so smart.


Wednesday, June 01, 2005

Sushi Means "Stuff On Vinegared Rice", Bitch...

...Not Raw Fish

Tonight's Dinner

I'm probably the only broke-ass person I know who went out of their way to have sushi for dinner because it was cheaper than McDonald's.

Mr. Scoop says I'm obsessed. This from a man who missed Mother's Day in his relentless pursuit of acquiring (successfully, I might add) a working copy of "Attack of The Clones" before zero day. Granted it was my . mom, but, still...

But You Put Weird Shit In It!

Sure, it was non-traditional sushi with a smoked salmon and cream cheese filling. But it was damn tasty and, for $7, made enough for 4 people. All without having to supersize an order of fries.

Sushi is any of a number of items on rice that's been tossed with a vinegar mixture. It says so right here. So, I could put ostrich on there if I wanted to. I won't, but I could.

Besides, these guys are doing it. Not with ostrich, but foie gras. And, I'm certainly not using foie gras. Did I mention I'm broke?

But, I'm the best fed broke person I know.