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Gotta Write Something

Apr 27th, 2011 by

So the Big Thing is over and I want to write about it, but it’s hard so I’ve been procrastinating, and because of that I haven’t written anything, and then I try to write something and I lose interest, and then I go make a crostini, and then I sit on the sofa and it’s all over.

/pant

So without any real plan whatsoever, I’m going to write something.

I bought a new computer.

It’s a PC.

…

I’ve owned eleven different Macs, but last week I bought a PC.

…

I’ve evangelized Macs for many, many years, but I bought a PC.

…

I love my Mac. I would like more of them. But I bought a PC.

…

I’M NOT A HERETIC FOR BUYING A PC.

…

Why did I buy a PC? Because I wanted to play WoW again, I wanted a big, honkin’ screen, I wanted to be transplantable, and I wanted to push that “video setting” slider to “stupid-high quality of such a resolution even the Hubble Space Telescope hasn’t seen the like.”

To do that, I needed a PC, because a 17″ PowerBook is almost $3000 and it still doesn’t have a reasonably-modern GPU.

So for a few weeks… OK a couple of months, I did my research. I adore doing research. I love shopping without buying anything. But last week, I bought something.

I bought… an Asus gaming laptop.

I. AM NOT. A HERETIC.

(It’s now time for a quick jaunt into tech-specs about which many people don’t care. My apologies.)

Asus G73SW-XA1 Republic of Gamers laptop for $1399

  • Intel Core i7-2630QM (Sandy Bridge) 2.0GHz w/Turbo Boost to 2.9GHz
  • 8GB DDR3 1333MHz RAM, upgradable to 16GB
  • 17.3″ full HD (1920×1080) LED display
  • Nvidia GTX 460M with 1.5GB GDDR5 video RAM
  • 750GB HDD, 7200rpm
  • Super Multi DVD drive
  • Illuminated keyboard
  • 1 USB 3.0, 3 USB 2.0 ports

A quick note: BestBuy sells a de-tuned version of this laptop, called the G73SW-BST6. It has a cheaper display and video card, but it costs $100 less. I scoffed at it.

Another note: You can buy a version of this laptop with a BluRay drive and faster/bigger hard drives (yes, dual), but I didn’t like the having to yoink $300 extra out of my checking account.

So I’ve been playing Cataclysm for a few days on this machine, and it’s a joy. Honestly, I think I like the laptop more than the game.

Some thoughts on my new laptop:

  • It doesn’t get hot. At all. Asus totally nailed the cooling design.
  • It’s ridiculously quiet.
  • It’s fast. I think it laughs at me as I can’t challenge it at all.
  • It weighs 8lbs, which is pretty light considering what it does, but I can’t imagine taking it on an airplane.
  • The power supply could run a small auto factory. It needs its own forklift.
  • It has an un-advertized “dog and cat hair magnet” feature.
  • I have had to install an anti-virus and anti-malware package, and I can see my Mac on my desk chortling at me.
  • The Windows 7 updates never, ever, ever end, do they.
  • For the first time, I’m truly scared I’m gonna have my WoW-account hacked.
  • No Windows DVD, just a “build your own recovery DVD-set”? That’s crap-tastic.
  • Bloatware, thy name is Asus.
  • Downloading Nvidia drivers directly from Nvidia; who knew it’d be fun!
  • I now need a genuine cowhide laptop bag. Something manly, for this laptop demands it.
  • If it’s wrong to cuddle hardware, I don’t wanna be right.

 So now I’ve written something, and that’s good. Hopefully next time, I can venture back into “Entertaining” as well.



Posted in Computers, Warcraft | 74 Comments »

Fear Not!

Mar 9th, 2011 by

The end is not neigh. Busy busy busy, have I been. New car, new job, new house, new family, new iPhone case, new ducks, new beginnings, and a new ending. And a few new recipes as well.

The entire story? Soon, I hope.

Posted in Blog | 27 Comments »

So You Want To Be An Engineer

Jan 26th, 2011 by

“Go to the other lab and test the ABC Kit.” And she went back to munching breakfast popcorn.

Grabbed my computer, iPhone, headsets, iPhone charging cable, computer bag, and strutted like Saturday Night Fever out of the magoogleplex to my car.

WoohoohooHOO!! Private-property speed limits enforced by rent-a-cops? Please.

Arrived at the other lab. The 5’2″ 98lb blond Door Guard let me in. The government was there, and although I have no proof whatsoever, I got the vibe that he was busy playing online poker. Opened the vault, got the ABC Kit, popped the case, removed the cables and hardware, and read the instructions.

“This ABC Kit will allow you to connect a Refluvajuvanator Sensor to the tank, and then connect the tank to the WOPR.”

Well, that can’t be right. The idea is to test the Refluvajuvanator Sensor with the WOPR. The ABC Kit is what replaces the tank.

“Step 1. Connect the first adapter cable to the Refluvajuvanator Sensor.”

/snick

done.

“Step 2. Connect the second adapter cable to the WOPR.”

/ffffut!

done.

“Step 3. Connect first adapter cable to the tank.”

There is. No tank. Skip this.

“Step 4. Connect the second adapter cable to the tank.”

Seriously? These are the worst instructions ever.

“Step 5. Turn everything on.”

/click

/click

And nothing works. Obviously, the problem was the the first adapter cable wasn’t attached to the second adapter cable. What was missing was the first-to-second adapter cable adapter. AKA, a tank.

/beep beep boop boop BOOP beep bleep beep bleep bleep

“Yes?”

“BOSS! The ABC Kit is crap. It doesn’t have the part I need.”

“What part do you need?”

“I need an Abrams tank.”

“A what?”

“A tank. A big one. It’s not part of the ABC Kit, I cannot connect the Refluvajuvanator Sensor to the WOPR without one.”

“The ABC Kit allows you to make that connection.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Yes, it does. Fix it.”

/click

/stares at the disconnected iPhone

“Hey! Can I take this stuff back to my office?”

The government vigorously nodded in the affirmative, so I loaded my laptop bag with cables and mounting hardware, walked like Droopy back to my car, nicely broke the speed barrier back to my office, and confronted Management with my dilemma.

“This is the Refluvajuvanator Sensor. This is the WOPR. They should connect with these two cables but they don’t.”

“You know, these two cables don’t connect. What do you need to make them connect?”

“A tank.”

“A tank?”

“Yes. I checked the engineering supply cabinet and we’re right out of them.”

“Do you have the instructions?”

“Yes. Here.”

And Management read the instructions.

“Did you perform Step 3?”

“No. I don’t have a tank.”

“Well I should fire you now for not following directions. How can you make this work if you skip step 3?”

“I can’t DO step 3; I need a tank!”

“Isn’t there a piece of hardware we got to do this?”

“Yes! It’s the ABC Kit!”

“Well just use that, then.”

“The ABC Kit allows us to connect the Refluvajuvanator Sensor and the WOPR to a tank, but it doesn’t take the PLACE of a tank.”

“So what you’re saying is that you can’t use the ABC Kit because it isn’t designed to connect a Refluvajuvanator Sensor to a WOPR directly?”

“Yes!!”

“Just as well; we know that these things don’t talk to each other anyway.”

Posted in Work | 19 Comments »

The Good, The Bad, and The Elune-Blessed Awesome

Jan 22nd, 2011 by

So I bought my car via Cars.com. I’ve never bought a car over the Internet before, and honestly it was the easiest car-buying experience I’ve ever had. Stupid-easy. But there were a few items, some specific things, that weren’t perfect. But let’s do the good-stuff first:

Good Stuff About Using Cars.com

The dealer in question begged me to buy from him. He knew that I wasn’t trapped in his showroom and could search for 10 billion other cars in a keystroke.

The dealer did a no-see-it appraisal of my 350Z and gave me above the Edmunds price for it. There was no list of items wrongs, no haggling about how damaged the paint was, etc. I wasn’t without a car while it was being inspected, held hostage at a dealership.

The dealership delivered to my office. Well, delivered to the Hooters restaurant across the street from my military-industrial complex. I bought the delivery guy a beer.

There was no pacing, waiting, anxiousness, or anger about the money as I was happily ensconced in my own chair the entire time we discussed finances.

It was easier to say “no deal” when I wasn’t being pressured in the dealership. That $699 Dealer Prep Fee that I loathed probably would have made it into the deal had I not had the option of just /clicking off the phone.

BMWs have a 4 year / 50,000 miles transferable warranty and maintenance plan. The warranty follows the vehichle’s VIN, not the original owner. If I sell this car tomorrow, I can advertise that it has 12,000 miles and two years of warranty remaining. If something goes wrong, I take it back to my local BMW dealer and they have to do the work. This includes the often-failing High-Pressure Fuel Pump about which so much has been written. Yes, my oil changes are covered, as is everything else…. except tires.

Bad Stuff About Using Cars.com

There is a problem with the left-front tire and it’s going to need to be replaced. Some pothole out there is cackling that it won a battle with an 18″ run-flat. I would’ve seen this damage during a visual inspection of the car before I bought it and demanded to be compensated. (And yes, I’m replacing all four tires with summer performance tires, not run-flats.)

Since I couldn’t test-drive the car beforehand, I had to invade my local BMW dealer and test-drive one of their cars, and it wasn’t even exactly the model I ended up buying. Buying a car over the Internet doesn’t necessarily relieve you of the need to visit dealerships.

The description of the car on Cars.com was in a format that made doing research very hard. It’s a huge block of text: no paragraphs, no bullets, no organization. I saw pictures of a hands-free system in the steering wheel but didn’t see the actual words “hands-free phone” in the description. I assumed that it was just left out, but it wasn’t; the car has the buttons but not the system.

When I asked, “Does the audio system connect to an iPod,” the salesman said yes. I assumed that meant the car had a USB connection. It doesn’t; it has an aux-in port. Again, a visual inspection would’ve eliminated the post-delivery surprise of the lack of USB port.

The standard BMW stereo is, in a word, “The worst example of cheap paper-speakers ever produced since the invention of the human ear drum.” A trip to the custom audio store — NOT Best Buy — will be on my short to-do list.

The dealership is over 150 miles away. If something goes wrong with the car, I really am not going to boogie down there, so they are safe from my possible spittle-shrieking wrath.

The Elune-Blessed Awesome

Jeremy Clarkson not withstanding, I love this car. No, it’s not as track-ready as my 350Z was. No, it’s not as track-ready as a 135i coupe or 370Z would be. No, there’s not as much rear-seat room as a used BMW 330i sedan would have. But I love this car.

My boy in the back seat, lowering the top for the first time, shrieking in delight.

My boy in the back seat, puttering around at 45mph and not having to strain or turn my head to hear him laughing.

My boy in the back seat, his hands in the air like he was riding a roller coaster, screaming that I’m the best dad in the whole world.

Posted in Cars | 6 Comments »

Moving Up to a Family Car

Jan 19th, 2011 by

As many of you know, I drive a 2005 Nissan 350Z. It’s a two-seater and for many years it fulfilled all my needs:

  • Carry my son and me
  • Very occasionally carry the 100lb Puppy of Love to the vet
  • Make me feel like a Formula 1 race car driver on a daily basis
  • Have a manual transmission, or a dual-clutch with flappy-paddle shifters
  • Cost less than $25,000

Well the time has come to do something with this thing, as I need room for more than two people at once now. So I’ve been car-shopping for… oh, two years or so. I don’t like to rush these things.

Yesterday I went to the BMW dealer to see if they had a good deal on a used 128i coupe. And on the showroom floor, they had a beautiful white one with a sunroof and a manual transmission. So I made “vvvrrrrooom!” noises in the drivers seat, which caused a little commotion and resulted in a salesman approaching.

“Hello, welcome to WayOverPriced BMW. How do you like this little car?”

“I HATE IT. IT’S CRAP.”

“Well, we have other cars…”

“CAN I TAKE IT FOR A TEST DRIVE?”

“Well it’s raining out and it’s cleaned for the showroom floor…”

“WELL IF YOU DON’T WANT TO SELL CARS, I SUPPOSE I CAN GET A FREE BOTTLE OF WATER AND BOOGIE ON DOWN TO THE FORD DEALER TO LOOK AT 5.0 MUSTANGS. SEE YA, WOULDN’T WANT TO BE YA.”

“Oh no sir, just a moment. Let me get a helper to unlock the side doors and we can take this out…”

“WELL THAT’S DAMN FINE AND NEIGHBORLY OF YOU. LET’S SEE WHAT THIS LITTLE BOTTLE ROCKET CAN DO. DID I TELL YOU THAT I’VE DRIVEN ON FIVE CONTINENTS? YOU EVER DRIVE TO MECCA? I GOT TO THE OUTSKIRTS BEFORE BEING WAVED AWAY BY THE RELIGIOUS POLICE. SCARED ME SO BAD I GOT A 3 1/2 TON HALF-TRACK DOING 110 MPH. YOU THINK WE CAN BUST THAT ON I-4?”

(OK, I didn’t say that, but I did get close to Mecca before being threatened with jail.)

So I put that little car through its paces and came away very impressed. It scooted, was well put together, and would seat me plus three kids!

…

OK, so not three kids on a trip to America’s national parks, no. But to the grocery store or the mall, yes. We’ve got the requisite Truck That Will Haul The Moon if necessary for anything more, but I need to be able to take two kids, and not with one lying down in the back of my Z.

But back to the dealership.

“SO HOW MUCH IS THIS LITTLE THING? IT’S ALMOST TWO YEARS OLD, IT’S A BASE MODEL, IT’S A MANUAL AND MOST FLORIDANS HATE THOSE, SO YOU’RE GOING TO PAY ME TO TAKE IT OFF YOUR LOT, RIGHT?”

“It’s $44,000.”

…

“Will that be cash, or are you one of those scum-sucking pieces of the Working Class that needs… how do I say it… financing?”

…

“That car, new, was $52,000, so you’re getting a really good deal.”

“A GOOD DEAL?!? ONLINE I CAN GET A NEW ONE FOR $28,000!”

“Yes, but this has upgrades. Like for instance, the base model doesn’t have Bluetooth, an iPhone port, dual-zone A/C, leather seats, a steering wheel, brakes, or wheels for that matter.”

“I’m feeling meeker by the moment…”

“In order to actually drive one of these cars off the lot, you’re looking at mid-40s without blinking.”

“I think I’ll…”

“Yes? Give me your Visa number?”

“I think I’ll go raid your refrigerator, grab a water bottle, slap it down in front of you, and ask you to take a GREAT BIG TALL FROSTY GLASS OF SHUT-UP JUICE!”

And with my head held high, I sauntered out of the BMW dealership with as much pride as was possible with the salesmen, clientele, and janitors laughing at me.

I stewed.

I simmered.

I did more research.

Dang it, there just isn’t a car I like that I need and that I can afford.

/research, research, research

/leave a bad review of the BMW dealership on Edmunds.com

And then it happened.

I did a search for used BMW 1-series within 150-miles of my house, costing less than $25,000. And one popped up.

/bing!

“It’s gonna be a stripped 128i with no A/C, seats, or floorpan, right?”

* 2008 BMW 135i, 6-speed manual, convertible.

Oh?

* One owner, clean CarFax

Oh ho?

* M-Sport package, gray with black interior

Oh really?

* For sale at an American-car dealership, so we want to get rid of this thing because it’s mocking the Mustangs.

Yeah, that’s what I’d do if I were a BMW stuck among Fiestas

So I filled out the form and sent an email.

/pondered the picture

/ring!

“Hallo?”

“DEAR JEEBUS BUY THIS CAR FROM US! WE’LL GIVE YOU A BUTTLOAD OF CASH FOR YOUR TRADE, WE’LL DELIVER IT TO YOUR DOOR, WE’LL GET YOU GREAT FINANCING, WE’LL ERECT A STATUE IN YOUR HONOR AND FESTOON IT WITH BABY CARROTS AND BEETS!”

“Send me the particulars, cochise.”

And I got the numbers in an email.

/ring!

“WHAT DO YA THINK YOU WANNA BUY IT TODAY?”

“What’s this Dealer Prep Fee for $699?”

“IT’S STANDARD.”

“I’m not paying it.”

“LOOK EVERYBODY PAYS IT. I HAD TO PAY IT.”

“No deal, Sitting Bull.”

/click

/gets back to work, troubleshooting .NET installations

/ring!

“Yell-lo?”

“This is the sales manager at The American Car Dealership. I understand there’s a problem with your deal?”

“You betchur bippy. Sales price is good, trade-in is good. Interest rate is good. My down-payment is good. But this extra $699 is no-good. It’s gonna go or I am.”

“Well, sir, everybody has to pay for the documents and stamps…”

“Not at $250 an hour they don’t. Who are these paper-pushers, triple PhDs in Inkology? Bury the dealer-prep fee or I’ll make like Khrushchev and bury you.”

/click

I hate .NET. And Java. Let me tell you why…

/ring!

“Bring it!”

“This is the general sales manager for all cars at The American Car Dealership. I report directly to the owner. I can do anything I want here, EXCEPT get rid of the Dealer Prep fee. That goes right into the owner’s pocket.”

“I know that for a fact, which is exactly why I won’t pay it, ya stinkin’ commie.”

“How about we work together a little bit. I’ll drop the sales price by $200 if we can leave the Dealer Prep Fee in the deal.”

“You’re spitting lemon seeds; now move on to spouting lemonade.”

“The car is $6000 under Edmunds already! Fine. I’ll drop it by $350. That’s halfway.”

“You’re a sick bastard, but I’ll take the car. Have a flunky drive it here, I’ll sign the papers, and he can drive my 350Z back to you.”

“But you’re three hours away…”

“Pronto, skippy! And make sure he fills it up before he hands it over to me.”

/click

And about 24 hours later…


I have a family car. Yay for being a full-time Daddy with a Boy.

2008 BMW 135i convertible. Dual-turbo inline 6-cylinder engine making 300hp and 300lb*ft of torque. Six-speed manual transmission. Sports Package. 0-60 in “oh-my-lord-I’m-doing 110!”

It just screams “Kid Hauler” doesn’t it.

Posted in Cars | 30 Comments »

Forty Garlic Chicken

Jan 14th, 2011 by

One would think forty cloves of garlic would create a nuclear bomb-sized garlic cloud that would prevent habitation of your home for at least a week. Not at all! When we cook this garlic down, it become very smooth yet flavorful. Let’s put it over rice, ’cause there’s very little better than chicken-n-rice!

Ingredients!

  • A chicken. You can use your favorite pre-cut parts, but for the money and variety of pieces, I like to use a whole chicken, cut up. Takes a little longer but I think it’s fun.
  • Olive oil
  • 1/2 cup of white wine
  • 1 cup of chicken broth
  • Fresh ground pepper
  • 1/2 tsp thyme
  • kosher salt
  • two large heads of garlic, or three medium heads

Let’s get started!

Doing carrots? Preheat the oven to 425F, peel the carrots, slice ‘em, put ‘em in a metal pan, very lightly coat them with olive oil and a heavy dusting of kosher salt.

But to the garlic we go!

To de-husk the garlic, the most fun way is to beat it all down with a rolling pin. Bash away, with aplomb and care. You’re not Barry Bonds here, but “dainty” isn’t opportune either.

And we’ve freed the Garlic Political Prisoners from their flaky prison. Viva la revolution!

Don’t remove their husks; just dump ‘em into a bowl and set them aside.

Now we’re going to separate our chicken into chicken-parts. Notice the tools: a high-quality paring knife, two plates, kosher salt, fresh ground pepper, and an Aranciata to drink, because it’s nummy-nummy.

Blamo! I took the skin off but you can leave it on. We’re going to be braising this, so the skin won’t get crispy, so why bother. YMMV. Salt and pepper both sides of all pieces.

Dutch oven on medium high, olive oil to coat the bottom, wait for the oil to shimmer, which means it’s hot enough to sear.

Inputten das chicken in der pot. Sear the first side for three minutes.

Flip and sear the other side for three minutes. Isn’t it pretty?


Take the first batch of chicken out and set on a side-plate. Add a little oil to the pot if necessary, let that oil come up to temperature before adding more chicken, though. Three minutes per side again, then take it all out.

Into the chicken residued-pot we dump our garlic! Saute that stuff for two minutes. It’ll look like…

This! Yeeha! The garlic will begin to waft and tempt your guests to elbow you out of the way. Fight back with gusto; this is Your Dinner.

Add the wine. This is another scent-bomb as the alcohol mixes with the garlic in a plume of awesomesauce. Use a wooden spoon to scrape the bottom of the pot and get all the Flavor Country residue up.

Awesomesauce! Ha!

Pour in the chicken stock. Now…

Add the thyme and let the sauce come to a boil.

Place the chicken in the pot, add the dark meat first, breasts last in case they have to be on top of the dark meat pieces. Bring the sauce to a boil and…

Put the lid on the pot! Dun dun Duuun! Turn the heat down to medium low and let the pot-action work it’s mojo for forty minutes. If you’re doing carrots like I did…

Now is when you chunk them into the preheated oven. (There’s a parsnip in there, because I had one left from a previous meal. Don’t be a hater.)

The rice takes 25 minutes to make, so time it so that the rice is ready when the chicken is done.

These are the tools for extracting every last garlicy morsel from our sauce. A metal bowl, a metal strainer, and a mashin’ spoon. I like a ladle as it serves two purposes, but pick your own weapon.

Minutes before the bing, put your plates in the oven. Never serve hot food on cold plates, or I’ll just spit.

Bing!

Our chicken is done, foshizzle! Take the chicken out…

And place them on a preheated plate. Don’t eat it yet!


Wrap the chicken in aluminum foil. It’s going to be a couple of minutes before we’re ready for them.

Start ladling the garlic into your strainer. Remember that everything is hot, capice?

Use the ladle to push garlic through the strainer, but don’t break your strainer. I mean, really.
This is the braised remnants of our husked garlic. Throw it away. Don’t eat it. Don’t taste it. Are we clear?
But this… THIS is what we want. BUWAHAHA! Garlic sauce! Praise jeebuz, pour it all back into the pot.
Stir dat pot, taste the sauce, season if necessary. This pot needed nothing.
Rice down, chicken next, gently and slowly ladle sauce onto the chicken and allow the rice to absorb as much as it can handle. Carrots placed akimbo, serve with the white wine you used for the sauce.

Demand seconds. Maybe even thirds.

Posted in Recipes | 28 Comments »

So What’s This Pokemon Cr@p, Anyway

Jan 4th, 2011 by

NOTE! Spelling rules are hereby repealed for the duration of this post. I refuse to spend hours Googling cartoon character names.

DADDY DADDY DADDY!

“Yes?”

DAAADDEEE!

“Yes?”

DADDYDADDYDADDY!

“I’m right HERE!”

Oh. LOOK AT THIS CARD ITS LUQUASIA AND IT EVOLVES FROM QUASAR AND IT HAS 110 HEALTH AND DOES 80 DAMAGE ITS AN EPIC EVOLVED FORM AND I GOT IT FROM JOSH B FOR JUST THREE BASIC FIGHTING TYPES ISN’T IT COOL?!!

“Luquasia?”

DAD YOU’RE SO OLD SCHOOL.

/shot through heart, and it’s too late. I just gave Pokemon… a bad name.

Apparently I needed to learn a little bit about this manic, compulsive, obsessive all-encompassing universe known as Pokemon. So before Christmas, I went to my local gaming store and had a looksie.

“So he’s just starting out?”

“Yes.”

“Does he have a deck?”

“He has a hundred billion cards.”

“Does he have a deck?”

“What’s a deck?”

“Go to pokemon.com and learn.”

“No. He’s my son, but that doesn’t mean it’s my job to do all his work for him.”

“We have a free Pokemon friendly every Monday night at 6pm. Bring him by and we can teach him.”

“Now that’s a plan.”

The following Monday…

“Kiddo grab your cards; we’re going to the Pokemon store.”

THE POKEMON STORE?!? CAN I BUY A LUGIA AND A TURTWIG AND A REGIGIGAS AND

“No. We’re not buying anything.”

DAAAAAAAAAD!

“We’re going to let you learn to play Pokemon.”

I ALREADY KNOW HOW TO PLAY POKEMON! I PUT DOWN MY HIGHEST CARD  AND I ALWAYS BEAT THE OTHER CARD SO I WIN.

“That’s not Pokemon. That’s ‘Let the boy win so he doesn’t throw a fit.’ We’re going to go see..”

WHO?! WHO ARE WE GOING TO SEE?!

“I don’t know if I should tell you. You might get too excited.”

I NEVER GET TOO EXCITED I JUST DON’T HAVE AN INDOOR VOICE.

“We are going to go see.. a Pokemon Master.”

O.M.G. DAD. A REAL POKEMON MASTER I HAVE TO GET ALL MY BEST CARDS TO SHOW THE POKEMON MASTER I’LL BET HE HAS A LUGIA AND A TURTWIG AND A REGIGIGAS AND WILL HE LET ME SEE THEM AND WHAT IF HE BEATS ME REALLY BAD CAN I STILL KEEP MY CARDS OMG I’M GOING TO SEE A POKEMON MASTER.

“Do you have your cards? You should bring them all so the Pokemon master can teach you how to make a deck.”

I ALREADY HAVE A DECK OF ALL MY BEST CARDS.

“Bring them all.”

I DON’T NEED TO I HAVE ALL MY BEST CARDS.

“When you can’t play because you don’t have a deck, that’s on you.”

OK.

And so we get to the gaming store, and there he is. Seventeen years old, straight black hair over his eyes, and the musculature development of an anorexic teenage girl. His girlfriend is beside him, happily texting while Her Man rules the Pokemon Dojo. She is zaftig and dressed to show it all off, but fortunately my son is only interested in the Master’s wildly extensive collection of rare cards.

DADDY DADDY DADDY!

“Yes?”

DADDY!

“Right here, kiddo.”

DADDY I NEED CARD PROTECTORS.

“Card protectors?”

YES THE MASTER SAYS THAT EVERYBODY NEEDS CARD PROTECTORS OR THEIR CARDS WILL GET DAMAGED AND LOSE THEIR VALUE CAN I HAVE SOME PLEEEEAAAASE?

“Free Pokemon night, my sweet, dimpled… OK, let’s see how much they cost.”

YAAAAY! CAN I HAVE THESE BLUE ONES AND A DECK BOX AND A PORTFOLIO AND A CHAMPIONSHIP DECK AND”

“No no no no. Little plastic card sleeves for three bucks, yes. Twenty dollars for more cards, no.”

“AWWW THIS IS THE WORST DAY EVER!”

“Did you learn to make a deck?”

YES BUT I CAN’T MAKE ONE BECAUSE I DIDN’T BRING ALL MY CARDS BUT IF YOU BUY ME A CHAMPIONSHIP DECK I CAN PLAY RIGHT NOW.

“We will come back next week with your deck, but we aren’t buying more cards.”

CAN I PLEASE HAVE A CHAMPIONSHIP DECK I’LL NEVER ASK FOR ANYTHING ELSE FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE!

“Although I would make you sign that statement if you were a teenager, right now I have to say no. Go learn from the master.”

And he ran back to the  master, watched him play cards and flip coins and stare down his girlfriend’s v-neck sweater.

/bing-bing

Into the store waltzed three teenage girls, all wearing animal hats and carrying cardboard shoe-boxes of Pokemon cards.

DADDY DADDY DADDY

“Yes, kiddo?”

DADDY!

“Son, I’m right HERE!”

DADDY DADDY DADDY THERE ARE GIRLS HERE AND THEY HAVE POKEMON CARDS I THOUGHT ONLY BOYS PLAYED POKEMON DO I HAVE TO PLAY WITH THEM?

“You haven’t played at all, but you should watch them play and learn.”

OK I WILL BUT I DON’T WANT TO PLAY WITH GIRLS AND THEY SHOULDN’T BE HERE ANYWAY THEY SHOULD BE PLAYING GIRL-GAMES LIKE HOUSE OR BARBIE.

“That’s my little cro-magnon. Go learn.”

DADDY DADDY DADDY THAT GIRL HAS A CHARIZARD DO YOU THINK SHE WOULD TRADE IT TO ME I’M SO ANGRY THAT SHE HAS THAT CARD AND I DON’T I WONDER IF SHE’LL LET ME HOLD IT.

“Make it fast; it’s almost time to go.”

BUT I DON’T WANT TO GO I LOVE IT HERE AND I WANT TO SEE CHARIZARD.

“I know. So go ask; we’ve got to go. We’ll get pizza.

CHEESE PIZZA?

“Yes.”

THANK YOU FOR BRINGING ME HERE DADDY. I LOVE YOU.

“I love you too.”

WILL YOU BUY ME A CHAMPIONSHIP DECK NOW?

Posted in Family | 22 Comments »

It’s Nice Being Able To Write Again

Jan 1st, 2011 by

/putters his 350Z into his favorite local auto repair shop

“Halp. My clutch is slipping, occasionally grinding gears, and the clutch pedal will quit recovering from being depressed after 20 minutes of driving.”

“Let’s look at it. How many miles on the car?”

“132,000.”

“Is this your, like, 4th clutch replacement?”

“No. It’s the original.”

“132,000 miles on the original clutch?”

“If you know how to drive a manual, you won’t burn the stupid thing out like those kids on the 350Z forums do every 20,000 miles.”

“Word.”

/repair guy putters around in my car

“Dude. Your clutch is not quite shot, but it’s shooting. It’s hydraulic; no mechanical linkage. The entire shebang has to go.”

“I’m getting shebanged?”

“The full shebang.”

“Should I give you my son’s college fund now or after you’re done?”

“Parts plus labor is $1006.”

“Now, then.”

“When do you want to do this?”

“I need to think and do some research. I don’t drop a lot of money without serious reflection, prayers, and an offering of a burnt $2 bill to the spirit of Andrew Carnegie.”

“Foshizzle.”

/putters to his local Nissan dealer

“Halp. My clutch is slipping, occasionally grinding gears, and the clutch pedal will quit recovering from being depressed after 20 minutes of driving.”

“Do you drive fast?”

“I own a 350Z with a 6-speed manual.”

“That’s a yes, then. Gimme $50.”

“Fifty bucks?”

“Yes. $50 to diagnose your problem, but it’s applied to your total repair bill.”

“But I just diagnosed the problem; my clutch needs halp.”

“No, you just told me what’s wrong. I need to find what’s causing it.”

“The clutch is causing it. Now give me $50.”

“What?”

“I just diagnosed the problem for you. That’ll be $50.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Tell me. How much. You’re going to charge me. For putting. A new clutch. Assembly. In. My car.”

/he slaps the keyboard of his amber-screen IBM CMP mainframe terminal

“$1160 for the clutch parts and labor, but if we see the flywheel is damaged, it cannot be re-tapered so that’ll be another $1100 to replace that.”

“You can’t machine a flywheel here?”

“Not on a 350Z. They are tapered, not flat.”

“Well I don’t want you to take an angle grinder to the flywheel and turn it into a pizza dish, but surely you can machine the teeth on a flywheel if they’re not damaged.”

“Nope. $1100.”

“Well I need to think about this.”

“Certainly take all the time… hey where are you going?”

/slams car door

/uses the last breath of the clutch to grab some wheel-spin out of the dealer and back to my local repair guy

“HEY!”

“Yes?”

“Can you machine the teeth on my flywheel if necessary?”

“As long as a rivet hasn’t destroyed the teeth, of course.”

“Is that included in my clutch replacement estimate?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s do this thing.”

“But instead of re-tapering the flywheel, we can put a lightweight flywheel in there. Better acceleration, lighter mass, faster car, and now would be the perfect time to do it since the tranny is going to be fully dropped.”

“My answer is an unwavering no.”

“Lightweight aluminum racing flywheel would cost $750, no extra labor since we wouldn’t be messing with your current flywheel.”

“You cannot overcome the power of my no.”

“And then…”

“No! Just re-taper my original, please.”

“But…”

“No. And no pouting.”

“How about tomorrow we do this? Drop the car off at 7am, we’ll have it done by 5pm.”

“It’s really going to take that long?”

“Yes.”

“Fine. See you tomorrow.”

/putters to pick up the girlfriend and all the kids, heads to the other side of Orlando to walk, shop, and eat in the 70-degree Orlando winter

RINGRINGRINGRING!!

“Hallo?”

“Hello, this is the auto repair shop. Um… any chance you want to bring in your car now and get the work done?”

“But it’s 2pm.”

“Yes.”

“And you said that this is an all-day job.”

“Well I had a cancellation and my guy is willing to stay and work on your car if you can get it in.”

“It’s going to take me an hour to get there. Still up for it?”

“Yes please!”

“And of course you’re going to cut my labor costs in half.”

“What? Labor in half?”

“Yes, half. You told me that this was an all day job. Now you’re saying you can do it in three hours before you close. You were going to charge me up the wazzoo for labor tomorrow, but since you’re only going to be working on my car for three hours today, I just know I’m going to get a massive savings.”

/repair guys starts quoting Einstein and Hawking, explaining how time flows differently in an auto-repair garage, and that as a result, my labor fee isn’t going to change

“WHATEVER! I’ll be there.”

/putters to car repair

/gets clutch assembly changed

/gets car back

/takes car out, the clutch feels great

/twenty minutes of driving later, the pedal refuses to come back from a fully depressed position

“OH COME ON! They didn’t fill and bleed my clutch fluid?!”

/and my Sirius satellite radio doesn’t work anymore, either

P.S. The problem with the radio was that the battery was disconnected and reconnected while in the confines of the garage, thus preventing the radio from receiving start-up commands from the Sirius satellite network. Putting the car in an outdoor parking lot, disconnecting the radio’s fuse for a few minutes, replacing the fuse, turning the stereo back on, then letting the update proceed solved that problem. But my clutch pedal…

Posted in Cars | 11 Comments »

Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For

Dec 31st, 2010 by

I’m car-holic.

More specifically, I’m a car-shopping-holic. I’ve been shopping for a new car for three years or more.

I purchased my 2005 Nissan 350Z over five and a half years ago, it has 132,000 miles, I just replaced the clutch assembly, and I’m worried that it’s getting time to replace the whole car before the maintenance costs become as ugly as car payments. So I’m really shopping now.

Cars I Want But Cannot Have:

Nissan 370Z – No back seat. I cannot justify owning a two-seat car any longer.

Audi TTS – Ridiculously overpriced four-cylinder engine with a useless back seat.

BMW 335i Coupe – Ridiculously overpriced badge and what the (bleep) happened to their design department?

Mustang GT 5.0 – There are thirty people who live in my area, and one hundred twenty of them own Mustangs.

Porsche 911 – Mucho Dinero, and I’d prefer the Caymen, which of course doesn’t have a back seat.

Chevy Camaro – I don’t want Bumblebee.

Dodge Challenger/Charger/Compactor/C-whatever – Ugh. Double ugh with a side of ugh.

Mercedes CL550 – $113,00 to own an MB coupe? Honestly?

Cadillac CTS – It’s… and it’s… but didn’t it… it’s a Cadillac for jeebus’s sake! I can’t drive a Cadillac!

Can I?

Well, I guess I should test drive it. And I did, and here’s what I thought.

Massey Cadillac was the host for my test drive. The salesman was polite, kind, direct and yet reserved. He was not 100% as knowledgeable as he should have been, but at least he didn’t out-n-out lie to me. Very posh dealership, great waiting area, lots and lots of cars indoors in which to sit and touch.

In Orlando, an indoor showroom is a must. One cannot run around a giant, freshly blacktopped parking lot for an hour in the central Florida heat and humidity. The Ford dealership near me has zero cars in the showroom, and I’ll never visit them again.

I got behind the wheel of a 2011 black-on-black CTS coupe. $38,000.

The V-6 was excellent. Nice sound, good acceleration, never lacked power.

The brakes didn’t complain when I abused them, the traction control didn’t allow me to power-slide once. I complained bitterly.

On-Star, Bluetooth, dual-zone climate controls, XM radio, full leather. All nice.

No navigation unit? Almost $40 Large and no $100 Garmin? Fail.

The seats, frankly, are awful. No lateral support at all. As I did my turns, I had to hold onto the wheel or risk being thrown into the salesman next to me. There are better seats if I chuck $50,000 at them, but I deserve better than basically a small leather bench seat in this thing.

But the worst transgression of all is the slushbox automatic. My 350Z has a beautiful 6-speed manual and that’s how I roll. The Audi TTS has a dual-clutch automatic with paddle-shifters, and having driven that, I have a new appreciation for how good an automatic can get. But this Cadillac’s six-speed auto was horrible. It was always in the wrong gear, at least one if not two gears too high. It has a manual-mode, but the shifts are just too slow, and if I have my hand on a shift-level, I want a clutch as well.

I got to see the CTS-V with the Supercharger, the better seats, and the manual transmission. $68,000 and that’s a big No.

But the car I could afford, would I? For $28,000 yes I would. then I’d replace the seats and learn to make the most of the automatic. But for $38K I want all my needs met. That means a manual or a dual-clutch automatic and excellent seats.

The hunt continues…

Posted in Cars | 29 Comments »

Thomas Keller’s Roast Chicken

Dec 26th, 2010 by

You remember that movie Julie and Julia where the girl blogs about recreating each of Julia Child’s recipes from her “Mastering the Art of French Cooking” cookbook? Yeah, well this particular post is a 100% total and complete rip-off of Julie, Julia, and Mr. Keller. Food-bloggers’ prison, I’m waiting for my tickets.

I was the lucky recipient of T.K.’s “Ad Hoc at Home” this Christmas and the first recipe I tried was his roast chicken, page 22.

I killed three people with the flavor, it was so intense.

So of course I had to do it again, but better! This post is about that second cooking session.

I’m not going to recreate page 22 of the cookbook, but I’ll write what I did based upon the contents of my local Public grocery store, those turnip-absent bastards.

Starting from the blade of the knife and going clockwise:

  • Five springs of Thyme
  • Six peeled garlic cloves, which get smashed
  • One 4lb chicken, whole and on-sale
  • Four carrots, peeled, sliced so they were all even lengthwise, then in half, then into 1/2″ sections
  • Two parsnips, peeled, sliced like the carrots, (Mr. Keller says the more identical your cut your vegetables, the more identically they’ll cook)
  • Two leeks, washed and sliced into circles
  • One rutabaga, the rind (rind?) removed, then cut in twain, then quartered, then eighth-ed, then into little pie-shaped wedges, cause it’s a rutabaga and I don’t know how else to cut up the thing
  • One onion, peeled, quartered at the root, and the root left attached
  • Eight little red potatoes, whole

Not shown: kosher salt, fresh ground pepper, five tablespoons of unsalted butter, one cup of chicken stock, canola oil, (Mr. Keller said no olive oil, so we moon-walked into the canola), and some butcher’s twine.

Interesting story: I searched that Publix for three days and couldn’t find butcher’s twine. So I ran my shopping cart into the double-doors that led into the back of the meat department, stood up in the kid’s seat — yes my tiny seat belt was used — pelted the bald guy with the hair net with potatoes to get his attention, and demanded to know where in this great garden of dead animal carcasses was the (expletive deleted) (twice) butcher’s twine. He lumbered over to his stainless table, opened a little tub, ripped out five feet of twine, stuffed it in my mouth, and spittle-shrieked, “Thank you for shopping at Publix!” then kicked my @ss out of his kingdom backwards, my noggin smacking the exit sign with not a little force.

But I got my twine.

Preheat the oven to 475. No kiddin’; crank that monster up high.

Smash three of the garlic cloves and take them and all the vegetables and slap them into a bowl.

Add 1/4 cup of canola oil, one of the sprigs of Thyme, then salt and pepper the beejezus out of it.

Take the chicken out of its plastic sarcophagus, remove the little plastic bag of organs from the cavity, rinse the entire chicken in cold water, pat pat pat it dry, slap it on a plate of its own, and bring it to your prep station.

Smash the other three garlic cloves, grab em along with the other four sprigs of Thyme, put them all inside the chicken’s chest cavity, and rub rub rub the inside of the bird thoroughly. Then rub salt and pepper inside the bird as well.

Rub a little canola oil over the outside of the entire bird, then carpet bomb with salt and pepper.

Now Mr. Keller has a wonderful picture-series of how to truss a chicken, and I don’t want to cut/paste it here. But basically you put the chicken with the legs toward you and the breast up, and tuck the wings under the bird. Then put the twine under the neck, bring it along the sides of the breast, then tie a little knot under the breast. This will elevate the breast meat. Then take the rest of the twine, come under the leg tips, over the legs, and tie the string off, discarding any extra twine. Like this…

And this.

And notice I didn’t put my raw chicken on my beautiful new Christmas cutting board. Wash your hands frequently, too. And call your mother.

Take your biggest cast iron pan and spread all your vegetables out in it, leaving a crater in the middle of the stuff so your chicken has a resting place of honor. In my picture you can see the bottom of the pan through the vegetables.

Note that if you place your onions so they contact the metal, you won’t regret it.

Take your trussed bird and slam-dunk it in the middle of the vegetables, foshizzle!

With delicacy and care, place four 1tbsp pats of unsalted butter on the chicken breasts. Then heave the whole 4000lb creation into your oven.

Leave the temp at 475 for 25 minutes. Then lower the temp to 400 for another 45 minutes.

BING!

Take the thing out…

PRAISE BE TO CHICKEN! GLORY TO CLUCK-ALMIGHTY IN THE HIGHEST!

Take the holy chicken out and place on a cutting board with a trough at least three feet deep to catch all the juices. I actually set mine in another cast iron pan, one that has raised ridges for searing steaks. Tent the chicken with aluminum foil and let it set for 20 minutes.

Put your plates in the oven now! Hot plates hot plates hot plates!

The rest of this recipe I totally made up. If it’s wrong, don’t blame Mr. Keller, but I wanted more broth than was in the bottom of my pan, and I wanted to get rid of the excess fat.

I removed the vegetables from the pan and put them in a separate bowl. I took the remaining broth and dumped it into a fat separator. I added chicken broth to it until I had 1 1/2 cups of liquid, then let the fat rise to the top.

I poured the fat-separated broth back into the cast-iron pan on the stove, and turned the heat on medium high. I used a wooden spoon to scrape the bottom of the pan to loosen any stuck-on bits. When the broth was simmering, I added one more tbsp of unsalted butter and stirred until it melted.

The vegetables went back into the cast-iron pan, turned the heat to low, and basted those veggies occasionally while the chicken rested.Then I taste-tested the broth to see if it needed seasoning. It didn’t. In fact, it was so good I went past Happy and Delirious all the way ’round to Angry.

“TASTE THIS! IT’S TOO D@MN GOOD!” And it was.

Take your plates out of the oven, carve the bird, place a heaping of vegetables on a plate, top with chicken, and then spoon some broth from the pan over everything. And then spoon some more.

Serve and die happy.

Posted in Recipes | 14 Comments »

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