Brain Needed Space

Frackin? Frekin? Farkin?

Mar 7th, 2010 by Daniel

Took the boy to one of those bowling alley/arcade/expensive food/loud music for no d@mn reason/birthday mecca places.

1. Boy got his first “credit card” there. You know how you load it up with fake-money with real-money, then you spend the fake-money without thinking it’s real-money, but you KNOW it’s real-money so the anger is just doubled because they think you’re so STUPID as to NOT know it’s real-money. Yeah. He loved it.

2. Boy adores claw-machine games. He has a natural talent at them, too. On his fourth try, he got a NY Yankees necklace that is straight out of Jersey Shore. The girls — and there were a lot — who were quietly rooting AGAINST my son because THEY were trying to win it for THEIR boyfriends, started to hiss and “awww” when he won. But I gave them a 40-year-old-protective-father look, and they cheered and smiled for him. I’m sure I was burned in effigy later.

3. Yes, he won his necklace in four tries, but he used his remaining eight dollars on the exact same machine. No air hockey, no basketball, no race car game, nothing else. I guess he needed to work on his mad claw-game skillz.

4. If you’re going to take a bunch of kids to go bowling and aren’t sure whether or not to rent the lane per-game or per-hour, choose the per-game method. We didn’t complete a single game in the hour I rented the lane. Fun, yes. Cost-effective, heck no. Lesson learned.

5. I asked for mild, mild, MILD wings, so I could pretend they were BBQ chicken, for which the boy has been clamoring. They gave me medium. The boy didn’t try them, of course, as he was busy showing off his Bling to everybody, but I did nearly kill someone eles’s child with them.

6. I had a Bass Ale. All four sips of it. I was WAY outta control.

7. There was absolutely no need to get a stack of plastic glasses for the water pitcher. Without a marker to identify which glass belong to which child, it was a communal water festival. And no, pitchers of soda with a gaggle of kids and only two supervising adults is extremely bad strategy.

8. Each and every child threw a mild hissy-fit with the first bowl. Kinda like Wrigly Field in late March.

9. Mini-bowling should not be bogarted by birthday parties. Every single child came in, saw it was reserved, and complained loudly. And only two air hockey tables? It’s like a prison.

10. I’M SORRY BUT YOU’RE SITTING RIGHT NEXT TO ME, YOU’LL HAVE TO SPEAK UP FOR ME TO HEAR YOU OVER THE INDUSTRIAL-LEVEL OF TOTO THEY’RE BLASTING.

Posted in Family | 12 Comments »

Let’s Firebomb the Internet Today, Shall We

Feb 18th, 2010 by Daniel

You’re a teacher and you want to write a book for Prentice Hall. Perhaps you are writing a textbook or an educational pamphlet. What are you gonna do with those double-spaces after periods?

“Always double-space your manuscript so that it can be easily copyedited. Type all copy flush left, rag right, including heads. Use a single space between sentences.”

http://prenhall.com/author_guide/general/overview.html

Chicago Manual of Style? Single-space.

“In typeset matter, one space, not two (in other words, a regular word space), follows any mark of punctuation that ends a sentence, whether a period, a colon, a question mark, an exclamation point, or closing quotation marks.”

http://www.chicagomanualofstyle.org/ch06/ch06_sec013.html

The Modern Language Association? Single-space.

http://www.mla.org/style/style_faq/style_faq3

The Associated Press Stylebook? Single-space.

http://www.apstylebook.com/online/index.php?do=entry&id=3544&src=AE

US Government Printing Office Style Guide? Single-space.

http://frwebgate.access.gpo.gov/cgi-bin/getdoc.cgi?dbname=2008_style_manual&docid=f:chapter2.wais

Typewriter Instructors of the 1980s? Single-space.

“We apologize for improperly indoctrinating a generation of people into the fallacy of double-spacing after periods. We are submitting ourselves for an immediate time-out in the corner, plus assigning ourselves an essay that must describe the evils perpetrated around the world as a result of double-spacing. Our bad.”

The Guatemalan Department of Indigenous Fruit Consumption? Single-space.

Elvis Impersonators Local 509 of Oshkosk, Wisconsin? Single-space.

It never ends.

Posted in Life | 45 Comments »

The Forums are Dead; Long Live the Forums

Feb 14th, 2010 by Daniel

Yes, the BRK Forums are kaput, gone, finito. I dunno what happened, but they are destroyed. Database gone, everything. I’ve been told it was probably a malicious piece of comment-code that got through the authenticator. I get a daily backup of my blog, but almost a year ago I quit worrying about maintaining anything on the forums. So if you had anything of value over there, I hope you kept a local copy. There is no returning from the digital abyss.

On the bright side, there are 105,000 different hunter-forums upon which to play. Get out of the house, go make new friends. You can’t just sit here, play Mario Kart Wii, and eat Cheetos all dang afternoon, you know.

Randomness Time, (because I just can’t seem to focus lately):

Why is Gordon Ramsey so much better on BBC America than he is on American TV?

Someone chain Ted Allen to the set and make more Chopped!

I would love to own a restaurant. I just don’t want to deal with employees, customers, food, bills, or 90+ hour work-weeks. Otherwise, I’d love to own a restaurant.

My new 12″ Cuisinart stainless saute pan has a name: Mr. Pan. You will be hearing about Mr Pan. He is… precious to me.

I get free drizzle at Starbucks, now that I am a Super, Uber, Hipster, Favored Customer. My cafe mocha has now become a mocha-drizzle cafe mocha. Yes, the barista giggles every morning at me.

And on top of that, I have been informed that my red leather iPhone case is not mannish. Well I’m not running about with lace-ruffled cuffs and a snuff-ring, so I don’t think this is a trend. But to be told by a pretty girl that my iPhone case is just what SHE’S been looking for because it matches her shoes put a tiny dent in my ego.

Yes, I know I have a massive ego. I have actually been clinically diagnosed as having, “… an over-inflated sense of self-worth.” Basically, the doctor told me I am smug. Kinda makes the entire BRK Worldwide Amalgamated empire come into focus, doesn’t it.

I ate a homemade chocolate chip cookie that was entrusted to me to take home to my son. I didn’t lie about eating it when questioned later, but my self-control wasn’t strong enough to allow it to sit at my office for four hours, unmolested. But then my son got both Pez and Reese Peanut Butter Hearts for Valentine’s Day, so don’t crucify me. I am making the cookie-baker come up with a tray of cookies so I can’t eat them all next time. It was a trap! I got to eat one, then had to have the other sit there, calling to me, knowing how good it was going to taste. Totally unfair.

I want more straight-away track on my luge and bobsled races. Dang it, Vancouver. And why is the finish line right after a turn? And why is the longest stretch of straight track the slow-down incline? And why did you have unprotected steel girders right beside the turn that accelerated sliders to 90+ miles per hour? Makes me want to punch those people right in the goiter.

Short-track speed skating is the bomb-diggity. It’s just one or two kidney-shots away from being roller derby.

I watched the womens’ moguls and all I can think is, “Why did they put the bumps in the snow?” Any sport that requires a Explain the Field to Me moment needs to be cut out of the Olympics.

Did Terrance and Philip make it to the opening ceremony? I missed that.

You know what’s wrong with Curling — and I think I’ve beaten this horse before — is that the competitors are not required to hold beer bottles while playing. I want the Jamaican Curling Team to have Red Stripe, the Japanese team to have Sapporo, etc. There aren’t many Olympic sports that would be positively accentuated with the addition of open containers, but Curling basically demands it.

Sochi, Russia is hosting the 2014 Winter Olympics and here’s my submission for a new sport: Snow Fort Building. Teams have sixty minutes and a dump-truck of snow to build a snow fort without using tools. It’ll be totally subjective, and the judges will be not allowed to be older than ten. This idea is way better than beer-less Curling, and don’t try to argue it’s not.

Quit telling me to visit British Columbia, TV. It’s 37 degrees in Orlando and I’m setting my sofa on fire.

Brain is telling me to buy a silver 2006 Chrysler 300 SRT. It’s got a 6.1 litre V8 Hemi and gets 20 miles per gallon when it goes downhill being pushed by hurricane-force winds. Zero-to-60 in 5.2 seconds. I do need a vehicle that seats more than two, but I don’t need a 425 horsepower sedan. I don’t. No. Shut up, Brain!

On Tuesday, I am supposed to dress “appropriately” for work. I wasn’t singled out, no, but there’s a big to-do happening and apparently we’re not supposed to look like a bunch of homeless but talented software developers. I bought my son a Phineas and Ferb t-shirt from Target yesterday. I think I’m going to see if they have adult sizes.

Posted in Uncategorized | 32 Comments »

Because I Can’t Form a Coherent Theme

Jan 31st, 2010 by Daniel

Arm and Hammer Baking Soda for Carpets is worth every penny. If you have a pet, use the stuff. Not only is the scent acceptable, it really does make the pet-hair release itself from the carpet fibers. My oriental rug is green! I remember!

Star Wars Lego. We’re not there yet, but I can’t wait until we are.

You know that part in a relationship where everything is new and exciting and every uttered word *obviously* has a deeper meaning and you’re scared that when you say something it’ll be taken totally against the grain of how you meant it to be taken and then you worry about worrying too much? That never goes away, no matter how old you are, does it?

Chuck E Cheese. I don’t get it. At all. Bad food, thousands of unsupervised kids, parents huddled against the windows reading books and talking on the phone, four-year old boys being introduced to machine-gun video games, and multiple forms of alternative form of currency designed like Vegas. I’ve been once, I hope to never go again. Seriously, I’d rather catch a puddle-jumper to Biloxi next time.

You know why I always buy my son two Lego kits? Because that way I’m guaranteed to be able to put one together myself. The next time he goes on vacation, I’m buying a Big Set, like the Death Star, and just building it because it’s so much fun.

If there’s a source of Yoshi clothing out there, I would win major kiddo-points if I got the boy some of that swag.

My 350Z is approaching 120,000 miles before its fifth birthday. I have been car-shopping for over a year now, and am no closer to picking a replacement carriage than I was before. I need a fleet of vehicles and a multi-car garage, really.

You know you’re a parent when you use Murphy’s Oil Soap on the wooden computer deak, the black marker comes up mostly, but not entirely, and you’re pleased with the result anyway.

I am now friends with a seventh-grade English teacher who double-spaces after periods. You can see what my new 2010 New Years Resolution is going to be, don’t you. I will break her.

I purchased a tin of Starbucks mocha powder and have been spooning through it for a little over a month. It finally died last week, so I boogied over to Barneys and bought two proper bottles of raspberry syrup. It feels good to come home.

You know the five stages of grief? I have officially entered Acceptance and d@mn if it doesn’t feel fantastic.

Yes a Porsche sedan would solve most, but not all, my motoring problems.

It is almost the end of January and I have avoided Bed, Bath, and Beyond in-totality. I deserve a new, round tablecloth for that effort. I wonder who sells them? Oh wait…

iPad is a really stupid name. There, I said it. Jobs busted a grumpy on that one. Yes I still want one.

My son talks trash to me about Mario Kart for Wii. I am as good… I am almost as good at it as he is, and while I don’t feel the pangs of not being seven years old, I do wish I could guarantee myself that I could administer a proper Mario Kart butt-kicking when he taunts me. I may just have to spend his college fund on a motorcycle instead.

I said, “Have you seen this movie, ‘Marley and Me‘?”

She said, “No, so don’t tell me how it ends.”

I heard, “No, but tell me how it ends.”

I said, “THEY EUTHANIZE THE DOG. IT MADE MY SON CRY.”

She said, “You jack@ss, I said NOT to tell me.”

I said, “Um… you love dogs, so you wouldn’t want to see the movie anyway. It’s a good thing I told you.”

She said, “You’re probably right.”

I said, “So I’m off the hook?”

She said, “H3ll no.”

Posted in Life | 34 Comments »

I Don’t Wanna Be a Polo-Shirt Wearin’ Yokel

Jan 27th, 2010 by Daniel

I hate polo shirts. Hate. I don’t use that word often, because it’s been devalued by society. But I truly loathe, despise, and hate with the intensity of one thousand burning suns, polo shirts.

They suck.

Now, wearing a suit to work every day, that’s not going to happen for me. I work in tech, and I’ll never be in upper management. I’m just not destined for that life, and that’s fine.

I’m not a technician, so I can’t bring the “filthy but appropriate tshirt” approach to the table, either.

My corporate culture is the ubiquitous polo shirt, usually untucked. Gag me with a spoon.

When I was at NASA, I decided to stick to high-quality Hawaiian shirts on the days when upper management was going to be absent, which was 95% of the time. When I left the Space Coast, I’m sure the corporate hacks at Tommy Bahama cried a little because I ceased shopping at their section in Nordstrom.

I prepared for my new life in software development by stocking up on long-sleeve button-down shirts and pleat-less (i.e. flat front) slacks. My first day, the folks were unloading equipment from a Uhaul, and they basically patted me on the head and told me to stay put when I offered to help lug servers upstairs. I quickly adjusted to a wardrobe of quality jeans and soft shoes, while keeping the nice-shirt motif.

I still stand out, but I won’t succumb to polo shirt fever.

Yes, I own three of them. One is maroon, one is black, one is white. They hang in my closet, soulless and drab, unloved. Beside them are my Hawaiian shirts, partying together and living large. Finally, my long-sleeve “shirts” that all need altering, because my waist is narrower than my shoulders, so they fit on top and kinda balloon when I tuck them in. They’re pretty quiet, mostly respectful, but much more a part of my life than the godless polo shirts that hang like drunken fruit bats next to the belts.

Short sleeve button down shirts, you say? You’re fired. Get back to the golf course, keep trying to slip the drink cart girl a twenty for her to lift her shirt for you. You sicken me.

Rugby shirts? Yeah, I’m part of that club. Got a pair of those, acting tough next to the Hawaiians. They get broken out during cold spells and when I know there might be a chance for physical labor as opposed to my tradition keyboard-hammering.

But polo shirts, especially on women, need to be burned. Polo shirts with your own company logo on them, they gotta go.

However, since our society is deeply entrenched in polo shirt culture – how it pains me to admit that — I do hereby propose that 2010 be the year of the Throwback Polo Shirt. If you’re going to go the “work appropriate tshirt” route and wear these stupid tops, I want to see something on them other than something making you a walking billboard for the corporate bosses.

Do you have a “Y2K is A-OK!” polo? Approved.

“Mondale/Ferraro ‘84” is total win.

“Alaska for Statehood!” I’m buying.

“I <3 My DeLorean” gets me pumped.

And of course, an original “The Year of the Macintosh is Here” polo shirts get enshrined in the Work Wardrobe Hall of Fame.

Am I alone on this? Is anybody with me?

Posted in Work | 35 Comments »

Wisky and Fire, I Agree

Jan 26th, 2010 by Daniel

You cannot deny the genius that is Walt Mosspuppet.

Posted in Mac | 5 Comments »

Tech Talk

Jan 21st, 2010 by Daniel

I use Hostmonster for email and blogging and forums and everything else. But I like to access my email via Google’s client on my work laptop, iMac, and iPhone. I like my email to be sent via my dphowell.com account by default when I use Google so nobody gets anything from BigRedKitty by accident. And normally this all works fine, but this morning?

KABLOOIE

I could send email via Gmail, but not through Gmail to dphowell.com. I could receive email via either path.

So I got on live chat with a hostmonster rep:

Dude, I can’t send email from Google through my hostmonster account. Did you crazy kids change my SMTP server name?

“Yes. (Hey Marty! The guy guessed it! Gimme my $20!)”

I KNEW IT!!!

“Your new SMTP host is ____________.”

Thank you!

/fixes the settings in Gmail

/sends email

/new crash error message

HEY!!!

“What?”

IT STILL NO WORKIE-DAH!

“Are you using SSL?”

Ummmm… yes.

“Change that.”

No SSL?

“No SSL.”

/changed

“And make the port 110.”

/checks port list

I NO CAN 110!

“No?”

NO!

“Can you 25?”

/checks

Yes. I can 25.

“So 25.”

/25s

IT’S WORKING! PRAISE ELUNE!

“Hostmonster just installed new SSL certificates today. Wait a few days for Google to accept our new certs and try SSL authentication again.”

Will do.

“Foshizzle.”

Posted in Blog | 12 Comments »

It Was the Best of Football, It Was the Worst of Football

Jan 18th, 2010 by Daniel

When I was a kid, the NFL had dynasties. Whether you liked that dynasty (Steelers!) or hated them (Cowboys), we all got to be emotionally invested in the games, and that’s what we all really want when it comes down to it. Your team may not win, but at the very least you could root for any team playing against Aikman, right?

So this football season now presents me with a quartet of teams that I cannot love and I cannot hate. I can care a little, I can enjoy the quality of play, but do I have any reason to believe that no matter which teams wins the Super Bowl, I’m going to go to work the next day either with a spring in my step or an anchor in my pants?

Let’s see why.

The Vikings are the Yankees of the NFL, and as a Yankees fan myself I should applaud them, and I do. Until this year, they had a tremendous defense no doubt, but their offense was like a Formula 1 race car driven by Pee Wee Herman. So they bring in the greatest quarterback who’s every played – not the most successful, which is Terry Bradshaw, but who’s going to argue that he’s the greatest? – and Favre has the greatest year of his illustrious career. The dude is 40. I’m 40. Favre is me if I had made a pact with the devil. I don’t begrudge him retiring and un-retiring, and I don’t even begrudge him the manner in which he did it all. And the person with whom I watch football every week loves him, so it should make rooting for Favre and the Vikings very easy.

But unless you are capable of loving the Yankees, you cannot root for the Vikings. I do, and I can, but for 98% of America, you’re not capable. I understand this and I empathize, and it colors my opinion of the entire team. I grew up loving the Yankees, so I can deal with all your hate and your jealousy. But I am not, by birth, a Vikings fan. I like Favre, but by doing so, I inherit a lot of angst and grief that is the total opposite of the love the Steelers get everywhere they go. You can NOT root for this team, and I don’t blame you, especially when…

The Saints are hosting the NFC championship game for the first time in their history. This is the Saints, people. The Aints. The teams with the fans who wore garbage bags (paper) on their heads for decades. The team with the drunken owner, (the Raiders have an insane owner, which is a bit different.) The team who introduced playing football indoors on concrete, I’m pretty sure. The team for which the toughest man in football, Jack Youngblood, felt sorry. America loves an underdog, and there is no team that has had a worse history than the Saints. How can you NOT root for the Saints to do well?

I’ll tell you how: Reggie Bush. Dude is dating a Kardashian. I can’t root for this, I can’t tacitly approve of this! Jeremy Shockey? I have to root for him? And the Saints themselves? They are going to crush their fans’ hearts, we all know it. Rooting for the Saints is like the captain of the high school chess club taking the homecoming queen to the prom and NOT expecting her to dump him for the varsity quarterback the first second she can. Disappointment is inevitable and we all know it. Rooting for the Saints is not the smart move, especially when…

Peyton Manning and the Colts are in the playoffs. It’s Peyton Manning, the man who will someday be the greatest quarterback who ever played the game. I’m not qualified to describe the qualities he brings to the Colts other than to say that without him the Colts are a 5-11 team. Favre is having the best season of his career, but Peyton has this year, every year. Replace his world-class receiving corps with rookies and journeyman? Peyton doesn’t care. Give him three seconds and he’d hit a triple-covered Kim Kardashian running a fly pattern.

So why can’t I root for Peyton? Because I should be rooting for the Colts, not a single player. Do the Colts even have a head coach? Do they have anybody on defense? Peyton does some seriously funny commercials – the Oreo one with Trump is a riot – but I want to root for a team, not a quarterback and a bunch of nobodies. When my Steelers were a dominant team, I could name everybody. When the Cowboys owned everything, I could show you my list or Dirty Rotten Cowboys Who Belonged In Prison. Peyton Manning may win the Super Bowl, but will anybody remember a member of the Colts other than Peyton in a week? No way, especially when…

The NY Jets are going to beat the Colts. It’s fate, it cannot be denied. The Jets are going to beat the Colts, go to the Super Bowl, and get pounded into the dirt by the NFC representative, thereby continuing the string of hopelessly boring Super Bowl games. Colts versus Vikings, I would LOVE to see that game. The two greatest quarterbacks of my lifetime in the Super Bowl? Has this happened since Marino and Montana? We all need to beg the football gods for this game.

But the Super Bowl gods are not kind, and the Super Bowl does not provide good games. And the best way for this huge spectacle of America culture to once again disappoint us is for the Jets to win again the Colts. Thus nobody, not even my step-father who is a HUGE Jets fan, should be rooting for this team. Yes, congratulations to them for beating the Chargers, we’re happy for you. Now can you please intentionally lose against the Colts? Maybe they can just miss their charter flight and have to forfeit, for if the Jets arrive in Indianapolis, they will undoubtedly win, and then hock up a total piece of garbage in the Super Bowl. Rooting for the Jets is the same as rooting to attend a wedding on Super Bowl Sunday.

So here we go, you can quit watching the NFL now. Vikings will beat the Saints, because the Saints are not allowed to not disappoint their fans. The Jets will beat the Colts, because the Super Bowl cannot be entertaining. And the Vikings take the Jets outside the woodshed, beat them about the head and shoulders with their own helmets, and win with a final score of 45-13. Brett Favre gets his second Super Bowl ring and most of the country runs to the bathroom to retch.

I love football.

Posted in Television | 37 Comments »

Iron Chefs, Part I

Jan 10th, 2010 by Daniel

It all started here. If you’ve never seen The Original, you owe it yourself to watch.

Iron Chef Japanese, Chinese, and French, foshizzle. Look at Morimoto and how young he is!

Notice the differences:

Japanese is more campy, American more educational.

Japanese emphasize the honor of the cooks and their cooking schools, American omits any hint of the history behind the chefs.

Japanese use mostly Asian influences, American doesn’t have a major overall culinary theme at all.

Japanese have Dr. Hitori, American have Alton Brown.

Posted in Television | 18 Comments »

Because Kids Need Hit-Counters Too

Jan 8th, 2010 by Daniel

My friend has a friend who has kids, and they dance, and the mom has a video camera, and I don’t know who Lady Gaga is except she pops up when I’m trying to watch Bravo HD and looks really weird, but the kids can dance and I’m sure they’ll love seeing their hit-counters spike.