tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64699012024-03-14T12:49:41.130-06:00Fizzle & PopLove from the bottom to the top.Collinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291745528672893691noreply@blogger.comBlogger845125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6469901.post-80580485447570789582015-07-20T11:51:00.002-06:002015-07-20T11:51:56.295-06:00This grave has been disturbed...It took years for her break apart her coffin, and claw through the six feet of hard packed earth that was intended to keep her entombed. But she's finally out, a bit disoriented, and thirsting for revenge. Someone will pay, and pay dearly.Collinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291745528672893691noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6469901.post-51054660603312130102010-02-25T09:12:00.002-07:002010-02-25T09:19:06.152-07:00Time for last rites. "Bury the bitch and move out!"Okay, enough of this. I'm packing my shit and moving to WordPress. Why? because I need to learn as much of the ins and outs of that system as my aged brain possibly can for my day job, and what better way to learn it than to use it? Don't expect much off the bat though. It's still pretty early in the process, and currently I'm importing as much as I can from my old Blogger sites.<br /><br />So, if you managed to hang on this long, things are finally going to change for the better (he says with a politician's smile)!<br /><br />This is... what... the third time I've left this place? the first was to go to Vox, but I never really liked it there. The second was to try my own blogging deal at fizzleandpop.com but the software I was using made updating a chore. I'm pretty sure that makes this the third, which should make it the charm.<br /><br />I'm hosting the WP site at the burned and salted ground of <a href="http://www.fizzleandpop.com">fizzleandpop.com</a>. That's right. I tore that bitch apart! All gone, all gone. No great loss. I'll be able to update the new F&P from my phone.<br /><br />I'll leave the bones of the original F&P here, in the sun, to age and fade as it will.<br /><br />I hope to see you at the new place.<br /><br />CollinCollinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291745528672893691noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6469901.post-64502142463264398732009-09-08T12:53:00.001-06:002009-09-08T12:53:37.205-06:00In support of my pants hypothesis<p style="clear: both">The other day I saw an old man – he looked to be in his 70s or 80s – walking up Academy Blvd. He still had a jaunty – if slow – step, so life must not have been too cruel to him overall. He also had on a new pair of jeans. Yes, jeans. Jeans with the cuffs rolled up. About six inches worth of rolled cuffs. Why would he do that? I know why. Because he used to be taller. At least six inches taller. Gravity's a bitch. </p><br class='final-break' style='clear: both' />Collinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291745528672893691noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6469901.post-49879180933745096832009-08-27T17:08:00.001-06:002009-08-27T17:08:16.881-06:00Old Man Pants<p style="clear: both">I think I figured out old man pants. You know, the pants that are worn belted about five inches above your belly button. Here's what I figure:</p><p style="clear: both">From the time I entered the Air Force back in 1987 until now I've always bought size 30 length pants. It's locked in my head that it's the proper size for me in the same way that my shoes are a 9 1/2. Never-you-mind the waist size. That's always changing and never for the better. I look forward to the day when I'll eventually be twice as round as my legs are long. I'll have a cake to celebrate! The... whole... fucking... cake. Candles and all. Won't even blow them out. The spit'll get 'em, and blowing cuts into eating time.</p><p style="clear: both">Anyhow. The last three pairs of pants that I've bought have all been labeled (a number I'm not sharing) x 30. All three are too long. By at least an inch or so. I'm freaking shrinking. Or my legs are. Maybe I'm staying the same height but my spine is stretching and my pelvis is falling groundward. I don't know. I'm not a scientist! All I know is something's amiss.</p><p style="clear: both">So I'm having to hike them up a bit higher than normal. I figure this is what happens to old men. Ears, ear hair and nose hair grows; legs shrink. But we don't want to let go of that magic number that we achieved and memorized in our 20's. We think, "If I buy shorter pants then they'll be TOO SHORT and I'll look like an IDIOT! I know I'm a size 30, goddammit!" This, in spite of the fact that we are walking on the cuffs of the new pants. We can't put on a pair of the old ones just to check because the waist doesn't fit... for some reason. Mmmm. Cake.</p><p style="clear: both">So, we keep hiking up the pants until it no longer feels wrong, secure in the knowledge that the size is right. Sure, our junk is getting squished all the time, but you get used to that as well. Tighty-whiteys helped pave the path there. Besides, in a few years you won't need your junk anymore anyway. Before you know it, your belt is five inches above your belly button, you're walking funny, can no longer pee due to crushed plumbing, and kids are shaking their heads at you and wondering if you have any idea how stupid you look. Fuck you junior! Just you wait 'til YOUR legs start shrinking! Asshole.</p><br class='final-break' style='clear: both' />Collinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291745528672893691noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6469901.post-9550643762359346252009-08-11T12:58:00.001-06:002009-08-11T12:58:14.550-06:00Scene: A Courtroom<p style="clear: both"><em>Jonathan Franklin, the defendant, is on the stand, shifting a bit, sweating a bit. Eyes dart around, looking at the jury, the lawyers, the audience. The prosecutor moves into the foreground.</em></p><p style="clear: both"><strong>Prosecutor:</strong> "Your Honor, members of the Jury, you've heard the witnesses, seen the evidence presented so far, and have possibly already arrived at your conclusions. However I received new evidence this morning that will remove any doubt in your mind as to Jonathan Franklin's guilt."</p><p style="clear: both"><em>He turns around and lifts a boombox from its place on the table, turns back and speaks to the defendant.</em></p><p style="clear: both"><strong>Prosecutor:</strong> "Mr. Franklin... get up and dance!"</p><p style="clear: both"><strong>Defense:</strong> "I object! Your Honor, this has no bearing on the case whatsoever!"</p><p style="clear: both"><strong>Prosecutor:</strong> "All will be clear within minutes your Honor!"</p><p style="clear: both"><strong>HizHonor:</strong> "I'll allow it."</p><p style="clear: both"><strong>Prosecutor:</strong> "You heard the judge Mr Franklin... shake your booty."</p><p style="clear: both"><em>The prosecutor hits play on the boombox, and 'I Like Big Butts' fills the courtroom. Mr. Franklin reluctantly rises, moves in front of the bench and gets down the best he can. It's pretty pitiful. A fair amount of shuffling, awkward starts and stops, and twice he bumps into the stenographer. The prosecutor stops the music at the part where Sir Mix-A-Lot is offering his opinion on silicone parts.</em></p><p style="clear: both"><strong>Prosecutor:</strong> "That will be all Mr. Franklin. You may return to the stand. Your Honor, members of the Jury, as you can plainly see," <em>points at Mr. Franklin,</em> "<em>GUILTY FEET HAVE GOT NO RHYTHM!</em>"</p><p style="clear: both"><em>P</em><em>andemonium erupts, the judge bangs his gavel, Mr. Franklin jumps to his feet and starts shouting.</em></p><p style="clear: both"><strong>Franklin:</strong> "No! NO! I'm white! White I tell you! It proves NOTHING!"</p><p style="clear: both"><em>The bailiffs rush forward and subdue Mr. Franklin, removing him from the courtroom as he kicks, screams and spits. The prosecutor stands with his arms folded looking mighty smug and humming about big butts.</em></p><br class='final-break' style='clear: both' />Collinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291745528672893691noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6469901.post-25686316404494027542009-08-06T13:20:00.001-06:002009-08-06T13:20:45.759-06:00Time keeps on slipping, slipping, slipping...<p style="clear: both">... you know why? As was revealed in a recently discovered ancient scroll found in the desert among the dunes and what-have-you, on the 8th day, God had snacks. Among the snacks was THE Banana. The first, the biggest, the proto-banana. King Banana. Seriously, it was huge. Still not totally rested from those six days of frenzied making of everything there was, after eating THE Banana He tossed the peel over His shoulder. He spaketh, "I'll create someone to pick that up later," to nobody in particular, decided it was good, stretched, yawned and took a nap. Unfortunately, the peel lay right in the path where Time marches. Thus, Time keeps on slipping, slipping, slipping.</p><p style="clear: both">---</p><p style="clear: both">I have another deign up for voting at <a href="http://www.splitreason.com/designdetail.php?design_id=design_4a775d696342d" target="_blank">SplitReason</a>.</p><p style="clear: both"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_TJQEVghiyx7aBNnS5Lk8k9mL5mVdS9q_ZGlAzAl-1AfQnjMQhlfY_ro9FLE5jyAv8o8AEfad9rzNqpvuq6GcUBMOzHSVjfOr1XAtdQ1-qb4XK0mWWDgL4ylH9ZVU9ym2gfpM/s800/Bwains.jpg" class="image-link"><img class="linked-to-original" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnaNuaJ6FMENz_C1qrj3iIQE4BdmoxXRlqKwDArcsMMjki9UDvWenhavDIuwl7vzSMzj05zz1-yxo4eXAgQ2ax5FI_ll8-EhvkR1aT0vXUGLWLKnIN6-u-c56uYmmHOxpTsgIN/s800/Bwains-thumb.jpg" height="275" width="380" style=" text-align: center; display: block; margin: 0 auto 10px;" /></a>The votes started off pretty strong but seem to have stalled. Hopefully it'll get printed.</p><br class='final-break' style='clear: both' />Collinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291745528672893691noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6469901.post-12983147119437315682009-07-01T15:00:00.001-06:002009-07-01T15:00:18.975-06:00Summer Colds Suck<p style="clear: both">Indeedeedoo.</p><br class='final-break' style='clear: both' />Collinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291745528672893691noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6469901.post-91986951478600527642009-06-23T13:44:00.001-06:002009-06-23T13:44:01.832-06:00Still here<p style="clear: both">For several weeks on the way in to work I've wanted to get a picture of the sign in front of Independent Records on Platte so that I could make some funny with it. Being me, I didn't get around to it in time, and now it's been changed. It had been announcing the impending arrival of a couple of CDs. It read:</p><p style="clear: both">Jun16<br />Rancid<br />Dave Matthews</p><p style="clear: both">I was going to say something along the lines of how I didn't know Dave needed to be kept refrigerated... but without the visual why bother? Lost opportunities.<br />---<br />I'm back to actively looking for a new full time job. They're still using me at Graham for now, but as the days roll by I'm becoming more and more certain that I'll never be rehired here, and if I freelance for the rest of the year I'm going to be royally fucked come tax time. It wouldn't be so bad if I was making enough to be able to put some aside for taxes as well as pay the bills, but I'm not. Not even close.<br />---<br />Depression is kicking in again. I can tell. Everything I try to do leads to frustration. I want to throw and kick shit way too much. Bah. Just thinking about it is making my head vibrate. Essentially, I'm engulfed by the feeling that everything I do is pointless and doomed to failure. Don't bother saying it isn't true. On some level I know that I'm good at some things, but right now I can't find that place. The only thing that is going to get me through this is knowing that it's not new and I've gotten through it before. But even that doesn't really help much. Since my ears have started ringing and I want to scream, it's time to write about something else.<br />---<br />A couple of weeks ago I found out that my mom has been mad as hell at me for a long time because of some of the stories I've written here that involved her and my childhood. She still is, I guess. Nothing to be done about it though. I apologized, but pointed out that they are my stories too, since they involved me, and I had a right to tell them. If she didn't want that part of our lives to be brought into the light of day, she should have tried a bit harder to keep me the fuck out of it. She countered with how her other children would never have betrayed her like this. After that it turned ugly. I'll bet it was interesting for the other shoppers in the Antique Mall. So it goes.</p><p style="clear: both">---<br />Yesterday I finished reading an excellent book that Heather got for me for Father's Day by one of my favorite authors, Christopher Moore, called "<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Fool-Novel-Christopher-Moore/dp/0060590319/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1245784539&sr=8-1" target="_blank">Fool</a>". I read it in two days. He's a gifted author. He just needs to write more, dammit.<br />---<br />That's probably as happy an ending to this post as I can come up with today. Hopefully next time I'll manage to be more upbeat.</p><br class='final-break' style='clear: both' />Collinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291745528672893691noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6469901.post-44118809929973674662009-06-02T17:20:00.001-06:002009-06-02T17:20:24.849-06:00The job search continues...<p style="clear: both">Last week I made less freelancing at my former place of employment than I would have if I had just sat around, drawing unemployment. This week isn't going that great either. So I'm still keeping an eye out for job opportunities. I have one person starting up a game company interested in having me fill an artist position, but I'm thinking it's a low-to-no compensation deal, so it'll have to be a background gig at best. I might be wrong though. I'll see when he gets back in touch with me.</p><p style="clear: both">I've also been wandering around the local craigslist and decided to look away from my field and see what else is being offered. I came across a posting for "<a href="http://cosprings.craigslist.org/mar/1189467678.html" target="_blank">Phone Actors & Actresses</a>"... I'm thinking "Sex Line." That, or perhaps they call up people and do <em>Macbeth</em> at them until they're paid to stop.</p><p style="clear: both; text-align: center;">*ring*ring*</p><p style="clear: both; text-align: center;">"Hello?"</p><p style="clear: both"><em>"And oftentimes, to win us to our harm, The instruments of darkness tell us truths, Win us with honest trifles, to betray's In deepest consequence."</em></p><p style="clear: both; text-align: center;">*click*</p><p style="clear: both; text-align: center;">*ring*ring*</p><p style="clear: both">"Hel<em>lo</em>!?"</p><p style="clear: both"><em>"Nothing in his life Became him like the leaving it; he died As one that had been studied in his death, To throw away the dearest thing he ow'd, As 'twere a careless trifle."</em></p><p style="clear: both"></p><p style="clear: both; text-align: center;clear: both; text-align: center;">*CLICK* </p><p style="clear: both; text-align: center;">*ring*ring*<br />*ring*ring* </p><p style="clear: both">"Grrr...WHAT!?" </p><p style="clear: both"><em>"I have no spur To prick the sides of my intent, but only Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself And falls on the other."</em></p><p style="clear: both">"<strong>STOP CALLING!</strong>"</p><p style="clear: both; text-align: center;">**<strong>S</strong><strong>L</strong><strong>AM!</strong>**</p><p style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><em>-30 minutes and 20 phone calls later-</em><br />*ring*ring*<br />*ring*ring*</p><p style="text-align: left;">"Okay... What... What can I do to make you stop? Just... please stop."</p><p style="text-align: left;"><em>"It's $3.95 a minute for me to stop and it's been... 35 minutes, so that's... $138.25. We take Visa and Paypal."</em></p><p style="text-align: left;">"That's insane! I won't pay!"</p><p style="text-align: left;"><em>"That's your choice, but I have all night and a lot of Shakespeare left. Keep in mind, the longer we go the more it'll cost you. Next up is King Lear. Here's a free sample: '<i>Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow! You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout Till you have drenched our steeples, drowned the cocks! You sulphurous...</i>"<br /></em></p><p style="text-align: left;">"STOP! STOP! I'LL PAY!"</p><p style="text-align: left;"><em>"Damned right you will."</em></p><p style="text-align: left;">--------</p><p style="text-align: left;">Okay, one thing I can't find a way to do with <em>Blogo</em> is change the color of text. It's mind boggling that I can't find a way outside of coding in HTML to simply change text color. I hope it's just something I'm missing.</p><br class='final-break' style='clear: both' />Collinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291745528672893691noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6469901.post-65054488112706729782009-05-27T15:52:00.001-06:002009-05-27T15:52:50.841-06:00As promised.<p style="clear: both"><span style=" text-align: center; display: block; margin: 0 auto 10px;"><object height="307" width="380"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/6DDUj5BuR3g&hl=en&fs=1" /><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true" /><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always" /><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/6DDUj5BuR3g&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" height="307" width="380"></embed></object></span>The Magic Bullet Trick as performed by me, Derek and Terry. Seeing this has shown me in a way that no mirror ever has just how annoyingly fat I am. *sigh*</p><p style="clear: both">It's around 75 degrees out today, which wouldn't feel so warm if we hadn't had nine-ish straight days of clouds, rain, and 50 degree weather. On the way out to lunch I saw some poor bastard cavorting around in an armadillo costume as a shill for the Texas Steakhouse... T-Bone... whatever it's called. It was an intricate, full body, large head, mascot style costume, and looked hot as hell as he shuffled about with tiny hops and halfhearted spins. I felt pity for him as I went by, both out to lunch and back. I also thought that it'll really suck if I find myself in the next few months having to beg businesses to allow me to be their living signpost just to keep from losing the house. Colorado Springs is the <em>wrong</em> place to be an unemployed graphic designer. I don't know where the right place is.</p><br class='final-break' style='clear: both' />Collinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291745528672893691noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6469901.post-36418297029594264992009-05-26T13:46:00.001-06:002009-05-26T13:52:24.005-06:00More testing and games.<p style="clear: both"><span style=" text-align: center; display: block; margin: 0 auto 10px;"><object height="307" width="380"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/54_yOqZ6Ieg&hl=en&fs=1" /><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true" /><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always" /><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/54_yOqZ6Ieg&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" height="307" width="380"></embed></object></span>This is a test of the embedding capabilities of Blogo. Also, <strong>Prototype</strong> looks gruesomely awesome! I figure I can buy one game, max, over the next several months or until I've been at a full-time job for at least a month and it's between this and <strong>i</strong><strong>nFamous</strong>, linked below:</p><p style="clear: both"><span style=" display: inline; float: left; margin: 0 10px 10px 0;"><object height="307" width="380"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/lG9TeUzZchY&hl=en&fs=1" /><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true" /><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always" /><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/lG9TeUzZchY&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" height="307" width="380"></embed></object></span>I've tried the demo, and it plays really well. It feels a lot like the Xbox 360 game <strong>Crackdown</strong> – a game that I spent countless hours playing back in the day, and have been hoping for a sequel to ever since finishing it. However there are a few things I found annoying with the demo, top among them was how hard it was to get to the ground without grabbing on to things on the way down. It felt a bit too sticky. Otherwise it was a fun time, and for a demo it was pretty expansive, giving what I expect is a good feel of what the full version will play like.</p><p style="clear: both"><span style=" display: inline; float: left; margin: 0 10px 10px 0;"><object height="307" width="380"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/hrl0FdQXbqY&hl=en&fs=1" /><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true" /><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always" /><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/hrl0FdQXbqY&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" height="307" width="380"></embed></object></span>This is what Justin's buying with his remaining allowance. The demo of it was excellent as well. So between it and either <strong>Prototype</strong> or <strong>i</strong><strong>nFamous</strong>, we should be set for gaming for at least the next three months, if not longer.</p><p style="clear: both">Yeah. I'm a gaming addict. Speaking of games and gaming, Justin has really progressed in learning his way around TorqueScript and <a href="http://www.garagegames.com/products/torque-2D" target="_blank">Torque Game Builder</a>, and just recently finished writing a design document for the first game he wants to work on. I'm a fair bit behind him as far as the learning, but I'm getting there. More about all that later.</p><p style="clear: both">Two posts in one day. How about that? I'm liking Blogo.</p><br class='final-break' style='clear: both' />Collinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291745528672893691noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6469901.post-69670634498195784352009-05-26T12:42:00.000-06:002009-05-26T13:21:50.457-06:00I'm testing a new program.<p style="clear: both">Well, new to me at least. I'm trying out a program called "<a href="http://www.drinkbrainjuice.com/blogo" target="_blank">Blogo</a>" that says it's "Blogging made easy" and you can "Post from the comfort of your desktop" which, if true, means I'm likely to start posting again. I'm testing the program now because it's available through todays <a href="http://mupromo.com/" target="_blank">MacUpdate Promo</a> for 48% off, an offer that expires in little over 9 hours.</p><p style="clear: both">What's been happening in my life? Well, I'm still unemployed, although I've been able to – so far – freelance at my former place of employment just enough to stay on top of my debt. If that stops I'll be back to panicking. Until then I'm stable at "reasonably concerned, yet stuffed with dread."</p><p style="clear: both">Last night I went with <a href="http://sonofcheese.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Derek</a> to <a href="http://www.bugtheatre.org/programs/freaktrain/default.aspx" title="" target="_blank">Freak Train</a> up in Denver and we performed a magical bullet catch trick we'd been kinda practicing for about a month, assisted by our former coworker, and hell of a slight-of-hand artist, Terry Gonzales. It went... </p><p style="clear: both">Well, it went. From my vantage point I couldn't tell just how it went. I do know that I fumbled one of my key parts, but I don't know how visible it was to the audience. But whatever. It's Freak Train. One of the most forgiving audiences you can hope for. And it's done, which is everything I hoped for. My son was with us, and he filmed all of the goings on with Derek's camera. If and when the video goes live I'll post it here.</p><p style="clear: both">In the meantime, back to testing. First a test of image placement:</p><p style="clear: both"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCeC8WFFy6hWW8bWN5KpyIXISALXspB_mj9UcqvQ3PGphfVLaNkLm5rwiFKdvYng-6bDa1dMUE_JJ3j8QQXR_8l3r6btle_l4ZJvqs5TKTOLX8QpMmtSBckA1VVpqgZ0jPQSnH/s800/Skyline-thumb.jpg" height="395" width="380" style=" text-align: center; display: block; margin: 0 auto 10px;" /><br />Next, a thumbnail linking to a full size image:</p><p style="clear: both"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpkn0OuV06CVuiHL15kO_UPBjhOr05jBzGh8eVVy5FCnMhjoBwNzmUUaAY50ikgf7fmEX6Pt25pXsRCFsI5JMGVtQLbCBC15YMQ4678I1NOT-S6kdExJSapQtUfU4StabZXp-4/s800/Zumby-full.jpg" class="image-link"><img class="linked-to-original" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-ywY1eVJnYXpu2deMaTt3SmxYRxU1Xmbd_RcN3NBWKN4UBetlV1Jgg4N1H8ma92aSmgyz6VwMaOxSCfSUFJHmuOvrwcdwn06yJEMqh_JiCL9c8AbVyAUntuV_KrHl_KEFm5r6/s800/Zumby-thumb2.jpg" height="109" width="100" style=" text-align: center; display: block; margin: 0 auto 10px;" /></a><br />So, thoughts from any die-hard fans in the background: should I let Fizzle & Pop die, and move on to some other bloggy endeavor with a breadcrumb trail left behind for people interested to follow, or should I keep things here? To be honest, after all of this time I'm kinda tired of the site, and that may be contributing to my lack of posting more than anything. Well, that and being boring. It may be time to shake things up a bit, see if I can stir up any interest that may be hiding behind the furniture.</p><p style="clear: both">Now to post. I'll write again soon. Especially if this program works out and I buy a license. Then I'll <strong><em>HAVE</em></strong> to, if only to justify the expense.</p><br class='final-break' style='clear: both' />Collinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291745528672893691noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6469901.post-17587976529180719702009-03-23T11:55:00.001-06:002009-03-23T11:57:59.404-06:00I felt it coming.Annnnd I'm laid off. As of last Thursday, the 19th. This has been a year of "what-the-fuck?!" and it's only about a quarter over. Fun fun.Collinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291745528672893691noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6469901.post-86044923651957842612009-02-11T12:30:00.001-07:002009-02-11T12:30:00.841-07:00Recurring NightmareA long time ago, when my son was maybe 2 years old – so 14 years ago – my car was broken into during the night. It was parked in front of the house. I came out to the driver's side door, on the street side, standing open. The glove box had been rifled through and anything of value was gone. The doors had been locked, but it was a late 80s Ford station wagon so I can't imagine it was that hard to break into.<br /><br />So I got into the car, straightened up the glove box, put in the key and turned it. Nothing happened. I was already going to be late for work and now the car wouldn't start. I'd had problems with it before, and thought the battery cables might be loose. So I popped the hood release, got out and lifted the hood. Indeed, the cables were loose. Very loose. They were just hanging there. The battery was gone.<br /><br />Yep. The fuckers also stole my battery.<br /><br />Since then, off and on, I'll have a dream where I'm coming out to my car and it's been ransacked. I'm talking to the point of doors, tires, even the entire engine missing. I have no idea what triggers the dream, but I had it again last night. The difference this time was, in the dream, I was tired of this crap happening all the damned time. So I gathered what I could of the car and took it to a person who supposedly would be able to make it so nothing could be taken from my car ever again, but it was going to cost me $400. I woke up before deciding whether or not to have the work done.<br /><br />To this day, I never keep anything of value in my car.Collinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291745528672893691noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6469901.post-40122713388238297672009-02-09T12:25:00.005-07:002009-02-09T13:57:44.142-07:00My lame humor.The other day, Heather and I were in Barnes & Nobles. I saw this book on the new arrival shelf:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP0i5bwnGGrXCOvSdbtRdHg31GwlTyoJrFKlgA0v1NrgJuL0lNDnOvh_ov7hA8RuT5lla1opdlfpciRzedGiBfvj9c5Y4eV4dnZEs_JqS3dTjgWOqNA9lnDQiOlJJ_cW_NvIbG/s1600-h/Uglies-solo.gif"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 206px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP0i5bwnGGrXCOvSdbtRdHg31GwlTyoJrFKlgA0v1NrgJuL0lNDnOvh_ov7hA8RuT5lla1opdlfpciRzedGiBfvj9c5Y4eV4dnZEs_JqS3dTjgWOqNA9lnDQiOlJJ_cW_NvIbG/s320/Uglies-solo.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300881696274309250" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I picked up two copies of the book, turned to face Heather, and without saying a word bumped them together a couple of times:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://sketch.smugmug.com/photos/470739608_CmA4A-M.gif" /><br /></div><br />She laughed. She gets me.Collinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291745528672893691noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6469901.post-12492330638334499542009-02-06T17:12:00.001-07:002009-02-06T17:13:15.439-07:0025 Things - List of things... random things... about me.<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333">Rules: Once you've been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you. At the end, choose 25 people to be tagged. You have to tag the person who tagged you. If I tagged you, it's because I want to know more about you.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333; min-height: 13.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333">(To do this, go to “notes” under tabs on your profile page, paste these instructions in the body of the note, type your 25 random things, tag 25 people (in the right hand corner of the app) then click publish.)</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333; min-height: 13.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333">1 - I've had two legal name changes in my life so far. Let's just say me and the mafia have this thing that goes way back. It's not true, but let's say it for giggles.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333; min-height: 13.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333">2 - I hate to travel, yet I've been to England. I hated the trip, but I really enjoyed my two years in the country. The trip back was even worse, and it ended in the the Dallas/Ft. Worth airport. It was like having to go through purgatory and ending up in Hell. Sorry, Jeannie, but I'm no fan of Texas.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333; min-height: 13.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333">3 - I'm a perfectionist. Just not a very good one. That annoys me.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333; min-height: 13.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333">4 - I haven't broken a bone yet. Mine or anyone else's.... wait, no, I did break Derek Knight's thumb once, but he was asking for it. I'm still break free though.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333; min-height: 13.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333">5 - I don't really know how many movies and TV shows that I have on DVD. Some people can count them off in their head. I can't do that. Nowhere close. And they are in at least three different rooms of the house.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333; min-height: 13.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333">5 - What I said about DVDs also applies to video games. I've been a gamer since the Atari 2600 days, and really should have pursued a career having something to do with games. But I didn't. That's one of my main regrets. I haven't had all of the major gaming systems, just most of them. </p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333; min-height: 13.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333">6 - I also love to read. Especially humorous fiction. My favorite authors are Terry Pratchett, Christopher Moore, Robert Lynn Asprin and John Scalzi.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333; min-height: 13.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333">7 - I've hydroplaned for about 200 feet on a motorcycle on one of the busiest streets in Colorado Springs. I didn't crash, but when I was able to recover and stop I was shaky for a half hour.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333; min-height: 13.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333">8 - I DID crash a motorcycle in a roundabout just outside of Bicester in England. Like an idiot I pulled out without really looking and there was a car ready to smash the crap out of me. So, I gunned straight into the bushes in the middle of the circle, flipped, rolled a couple of times. Next thing I knew there were several concerned Brits gathered around me asking if I was okay. Surprisingly I was, just really embarrassed at being a dumb American.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333; min-height: 13.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333">9 - Years later, back in the states, I rolled my Volkswagen beetle while taking a corner too sharp on a wet road. I ended up at rest on the driver's side of the car surrounded by a haze of battery acid – in the old beetles the battery was stored under the backseat, and my car had no back seat, so it splashed everywhere as I tumbled. I was helped out through the passenger door by people who were amazed I wasn't really screwed up. We got the car back on its wheels and I was able to drive it the rest of the way to work. My throat and chest were hurting and all I could smell was acid. I flushed myself out the best I could in the bathroom, then called my girlfriend at the time to tell her what happened. The first question out of her mouth, "Is the car okay?" She's my ex now.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333; min-height: 13.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333">10 - My friend, Mike Burns and I used to do all kinds of stupid things. He was my best friend in third and fourth grades. He had a lazy eye. He was also diagnosed as hyperactive, so he couldn't eat sugar of any kind. Going to his house for after-school snacks was not a high point of the week, but I felt sorry for him. So I would sit and eat the celery while thinking about the Carnation instant breakfast bar that waited for me at my house. Of the many stupid things we did, two stand out. </p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333; min-height: 13.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333">11 - One was taking a bunch of primer caps from my dad's ammo bench and taking them out to the sidewalk and hitting them with a hammer. The third one I hit ricocheted off the surface of the sidewalk hand hit him on the forehead about a half inch up and between his eyebrows. It made a crescent shaped cut in his head that bled a bit and scared the crap out of both of us. We learned from that one. </p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333; min-height: 13.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333">12 - The second thing was we would take the powdered bug poison my dad had for the roses and other garden plants, climb up into the rafters of my garage, take a handful of poison each, and toss it into the air while making explosion noises. I recall it looked cool. God knows how much of it we inhaled, and it's amazing I'm not sitting in corner somewhere passing what little life I have left drooling. I suppose there's still time for that though.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333; min-height: 13.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333">13 - I didn't even know how to drive a car until after I was in tech school in the Air Force when I was 19. And that was an automatic that I wrecked within two months of buying it. I t-boned a car at an intersection because I couldn't see due to the sun setting behind the Rockies, and the pitted window in the old used car I'd bought. I had been following the car in front of me, trusting that he knew what he was doing. What he was doing was running lights. The guy I hit was massively pissed. He'd just bought the car a week before. What he didn't do, however, was purchase insurance. So I got a ticket for running the light, and he got a ticket for not having insurance and had to pay for his own repairs. My car was totaled.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333; min-height: 13.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333">14 - I didn't learn to drive a standard transmission car until I bought the beetle I mentioned when I was 24. The rest of my time was spent on motorcycles. I loved them. Now I'm thinking if I had a motorcycle it would end me. A shame really, as I would really like one. That said, I wouldn't want either of my kids to ever ride a motorcycle, unless I was driving it. I don't trust anyone else, and I can never be a passenger on a bike anymore.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333; min-height: 13.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333">15 - I'm not very good at being brief.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333; min-height: 13.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333">16 - If I don't know you well, I probably come off as someone totally lacking in all human interaction skills and emotions. This is due to my surprisingly intense introversion, and never really living anywhere long enough while growing up to develop decent people skills. Not to mention my adult role models were a bit lacking on their part. I did manage to learn at a rather young age that you need to separate the seeds and stems from the huge pile of weed on the coffee table with precision, or else they pop while the joint is burning and pisses off the adults. That's not something I would have picked up just anywhere. Once I'm around someone long enough I'll relax and become somewhat more tolerable.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333; min-height: 13.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333">17 - One of my cousins liked to chew on the lead weights that were in the bottom corners of the curtains in her room. It was the 70s. She's a parent now, and her kids seem normal. She offered me one, and I just said no. Okay. Fine. I chewed on it a little bit, but I didn't like it that much, and I didn't inhale.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333; min-height: 13.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333">18 - In spite of #16's lesson plan, I've never done drugs. I could see how it effected the people around me and decided at a very early age that I wanted no part of it. I've been in enough dope clouds at an early age though to have developed a few contact highs.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333; min-height: 13.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333">19 - I don't drink anymore. I drank a LOT in England, and kept on going heavy back in the States. One night around 1992 while having a fight with the girlfriend from #9, I drank a bottle and a half of Crown Royal. I went all the way past drunk. After that night I felt sick. Very sick. And for several years after, if I so much as tasted alcohol I would feel like I was going to vomit. So I got out of the habit.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333; min-height: 13.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333">20 - I realize this has been stupid long, so my "things" from here on out are going to be short. Brief, if you will. That thing I'm not good at being. I really like peanut butter.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333; min-height: 13.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333">21 - My favorite numbers are 9 and 13. </p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333; min-height: 13.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333">22 - My favorite color is green. </p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333; min-height: 13.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333">23 - I don't like gambling.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333; min-height: 13.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333">24 - I'm not that keen on sports.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333; min-height: 13.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333">25 - I've never met my biological father, and really have no desire to.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333; min-height: 13.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333">And there it is. 25 things.</p>Collinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291745528672893691noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6469901.post-43183263725906830802009-02-05T13:02:00.000-07:002009-02-05T13:13:38.617-07:00An update and so much more!First things first, my daughter is adjusting well enough to a daily grind that is chock full of insulin shots, checking blood sugar at least four times a day or more, eating six meals a day, and counting carbs. Speaking of blood checks, there was a string of four or five days where we had to check her blood sugar at 2am because it was below 150 before her bedtime snack. By the end of that run we were both exhausted.<br /><br />She needs a breakfast that contains 45g of carbs, a 9 am snack containing 15g, a 11:30 lunch containing 60g, a 2:30 snack containing 60g (long story, involves mother/daughter tradition of sorts), a 6pm dinner of 45g, and a bedtime snack of 15g. We're going to look at adjusting those amounts a bit so that she can eat more at her main meals because she seems to be constantly hungry lately. She can do in-between snacks of zero-carb foods, but it's just getting silly lately. She's eaten enough cheese lately to be nicknamed "Wisconsin". She had managed to regain half of the weight she had lost before going into the hospital.<br /><br />I'm also starting to get a better grip on what the two types of insulin she's taking do to her system. Pretty soon the diabetes assistant (I don't know the exact job title) is going to have me take over figuring out the doses. Wheee. No pressure or anything. I've already learned that it's better for her blood to be a little high than to be low.<br /><br />On to the "more" of the title. Over at facebook, I've been "tagged" to take part in making a list of 25 random things about me. I haven't had time to do it yet. Honestly, I haven't had time for much of anything lately, and when I do have time I don't have energy. BUT. That said, I will be getting to this list either tonight or tomorrow morning. When it's done I'll also post it here. I plan to be as random as I can, so it should be fun.<br /><br />I also haven't forgotten the daily doodle, although I might not be starting it up again until Monday. I used to have an hour before starting work, during which I would write a post and get other stuff done. Now my hours have been adjusted so I could leave work a bit earlier so I can get home in time for Jordyn's dinner, and now I'm lucky if I have 15 minutes free before work. In the morning it takes me 15 minutes to yawn, let alone try to think of anything worth writing about. So if I can't write anything during lunch, I probably won't post that day.<br /><br />This is a lunch post. Pardon the peanut butter breath.<br /><br />Before everything happened with my daughter I had a few potentially humorous things to talk about, but for the life of me I can't remember them now.<br /><br />I do have a bit of advice though. If you are teetering on the brink of exhaustion, do not try to operate a fruit peeler unless you aren't that fond of the skin on your knuckles. It's just a bad idea.<br /><br />Well, my time for the day is up. I'll try my hardest to yap at you tomorrow.Collinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291745528672893691noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6469901.post-51193588873878341402009-01-28T08:12:00.003-07:002009-01-28T08:16:51.476-07:00BusyI was too busy on Friday to post, and on Saturday night my daughter had to go to the emergency room. There she was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes. She was really close to dying. She didn't get out of the hospital until yesterday afternoon. We have a lot to learn, but she's doing much better now. I expect to be very busy until we get a routine developed, so posting will be sporadic if at all. And that's it. No funny for now.Collinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291745528672893691noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6469901.post-46223307456790662452009-01-22T08:10:00.005-07:002009-01-22T14:46:34.498-07:00Songs, magical songsI woke up with a song I don't like stuck in my head and it won't go away. So, as long as it's here I might as well make fun of it.<br /><br />"Wake Up Little Susie" by The Everly Brothers.<br /><br />This is what Wikipedia has about the song's premise:<br /><br /><i>The song is written from the point of view of a high school boy to his girlfriend, Susie. In the song, the two go out on a date to a drive-in movie theater, only to fall asleep during the movie. They do not wake up until 4 o'clock in the morning. They then contemplate the reactions of her parents and their friends.<br /><br />Although banned in such places as Boston, the song does not state that Susie and her boyfriend had sexual relations. Indeed, it strongly implies that they did not: the couple simply fell asleep because they were bored by the film.</i><br /><br />This song was released in 1957. Here are the key lyrics, my thoughts in red:<br /><br />"Wake up, little Susie, wake up<br />"We’ve both been sound asleep, wake up, little Susie, and weep<br />"The movie’s over, it’s four o’clock, and we’re in trouble deep "<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);">What drive-in is unmanned in the 50s? Nobody noticed a car just sitting there and thought to check it out before 4 in the morning, at a movie that was supposed to be over before 10 the previous night*? Until reading that, I'd always assumed they fell asleep in the boy's house watching a movie on TV. It makes more sense, but only barely. Also, nice touch telling her to wake up and cry already.</span><br /><br />"I told your mama that you’d be in by ten<br />"Well Susie baby looks like we goofed again"<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);">*Yeah, I got ahead of the song there, but see? She was supposed to be in by 10. Also, they goofed </span><i style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);">AGAIN?</i><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"> Kid, if this is becoming a habit, why start worrying now? You didn't learn anything the first dozen or so times and you managed to live past them. Is this the time where her mama is going to end you with a rolling pin?</span><br /><br />"The movie wasn’t so hot, it didn’t have much of a plot<br />"We fell asleep, our goose is cooked, our reputation is shot "<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);">"Our" reputation? Let's see.. HER reputation is probably shot, what with acting a slut and all, but you're gold playah. Although, all this concern of yours about "our" reputation... hmmm...</span><br /><br />"Whatta we gonna tell your mama<br />"Whatta we gonna tell your pa<br />"Whatta we gonna tell our friends when they say “ooh-la-la” "<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);">Tell them he's gay. 'Out' his ass. It's obvious really. He took you to a drive-in movie and you both fell asleep for over six hours and didn't fool around at all. He wakes up and is panicking like a bitch. He's gay and you're his beard. Tell your mama and pa that he's a boy you feel comfortable with, you spend hours doing each other's hair and gossiping about which jocks at school are cute. That'll shut them up. Sure, being outed in the 50s isn't an optimal thing for him, but at least it puts the reputation ball back in your court, Susie. Ask yourself, "Do I want to be called a slut?" And remember how panicked and whiney he was when you were trying to catch some z's. Is this a guy you want to ruin your reputation for? As for your friends, shit, they're gay too. "Ooh-la-la" indeed.</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br />No doodle today. I'm out of time and really not feeling up for it right now.</span><br /></span>Collinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291745528672893691noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6469901.post-88845047420778447612009-01-21T07:52:00.004-07:002009-01-21T08:23:58.414-07:00More randomness than you can shake a whale at.Why a whale? Because it's big and your arms would get tired after one or two shakes, because, honestly, there's not much to this post today. I figure that I'm feeling a bit run down and was reasonably entertaining yesterday, so eh.<br />-<br />The other day my daughter was trying to keep our dog's toy football away from him. Apparently – I was at work at the time, so this is all second hand – he knocked her to the ground and took it from her. Her response: "I've been vanquished."<br />-<br />I plan to once again take part in the utter crap-shoot that is the Woot T-Shirt Derby this week. Not because I think I've gotten any better since I last took part in it. I haven't, especially on deadline designs. No. It's because now the reward for having one of the top three shirts for the week is up to $1000, and $2 per shirt that sells after the first day. I lucked into a spot once before, perhaps I can again. So, barring illness, this Thursday after they announce the next theme, I'm going to get my happy ass designing.<br />-<br />Over at Redneck Diva's home she had been talking about a <a href="http://www.theredneckdiva.com/2009/01/gummy.html">recent visit to the dentist</a>. Both my kiddos just had an check up on Monday and they are all kinds of messed up. The girl managed to swing four cavities, although two were on the teeth touching her spacer so they were expected. "Expected" doesn't mean "free to fix" though. Naturally. I should also mention that she got a huge bag of all kinds of candy from her BFF for her birthday, and now she can't eat it. At least not as fast as she would like. The boy has cavities on his incoming wisdom teeth, so they are going to need to be pulled. Fun times. Anyhow, over at Diva's I commented on how we need little birds like alligators have that would sit in our mouths and clean our teeth. Or is it crocodiles? Either way, we need those birds. It would also be nice if they were mint flavored so you could suck on them when they were done, then spit them out and have all kinds of fresh breath. So, get to work on that God. And since birds might not be workable, even with divine direction, my fallback idea is nanobots. Mint flavored nanobots. Get to work on that science. It's a race!<br />-<br />"Out of left field." Why? Specifically, why left field? I realize it's probably a baseball related saying, and I know as little as I can manage about baseball, but does stuff traditionally come unexpectedly from left field? As traditionally as something unexpected can be, of course. Aren't there more unexpected places for things to come from in a baseball stadium? "Jesus! That came totally from the hot dog vendor!" I suppose I could research it, but as I've said here before, no.<br />-<br />We have another podcast. In it I say, maybe, three words. Five at the most. Unless Derek dubbed some more in without telling me. Click to listen.<br /><br /><a href="http://widegren.us/audio/cheesecast/SOC086.mp3" target="_blank"><img alt="M. Dung Baby! Awayy!" src="http://widegren.us/audio/cheesecast/socepisode086.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />-<br />That's long enough. Here's the next stage in the first SloMo Design:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXeREdLKcZnnR901oovkj2qdfKlwfDLuaoFB_L5JS5uSwV8bsMDHXMD7Vnc3G1r3vSeZ1X-7rcuxpWjD8QYObPHgXxCjYwCL22dhgRwzgsCvEgMJFiWc41yjMimM0Gv60m0Tcw/s1600-h/doodle6.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 193px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXeREdLKcZnnR901oovkj2qdfKlwfDLuaoFB_L5JS5uSwV8bsMDHXMD7Vnc3G1r3vSeZ1X-7rcuxpWjD8QYObPHgXxCjYwCL22dhgRwzgsCvEgMJFiWc41yjMimM0Gv60m0Tcw/s320/doodle6.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293767192281803746" /></a><br /><br />What the hell? I don't know. I really don't.Collinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291745528672893691noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6469901.post-21638491808508665422009-01-20T12:30:00.005-07:002009-01-20T12:30:00.776-07:00What a politicelicous day!Not this post though. This post is almost 100% politics free, however it could contain trace amounts of peanuts. If while reading this you experience shortness of breath and a swelling in your throat, or you have a history of peanut related allergies, stop reading immediately and consult a physician. You're dying! Hurry!<br /><br />I used to have horrible allergies when I was a kid. It was first misdiagnosed as asthma by some officer tard at the Peterson Air Force Base Medical Center when I was – wait for it... – nine. So for a long time I was the dweebie kid with an inhaler and a fear of physical activity that I'd been told could lead to a thrashing-on-the-floor-clutching-at-my-throat, gaspy death. Fucking inhaler. I hated that thing.<br /><br />Many years later when I was 14 and living with my dad in Pueblo, I went in for my first and only allergy test. I don't know if it's still done this way, but as I recall at the time they had a rack of needles that were each coated with some form of evil that was poked into your back, it was covered with a sheet of paper or something and then they sat back and watched what happened. Half my frickin' back blew up. When the doctor lifted the sheet he did that sharp inhalation of breath like "hsst..." and said, "Oh my." The biggest bumps were cats and politics, and there were about six other lesser bumps that were pulsing for attention. None of the allergies were peanuts of course. That's not one that creeps up on you, especially if half your diet up to that point was peanut butter in one form or another; Reeses Peanut Butter Cups, peanut butter infused Carnation Instant Breakfast Bars (back when they were good), peanut butter sandwiches, peanut butter cookies, peanut butter on a spoon, etc. What can I say? I'm a fan.<br /><br />Over the last 26 years most of my allergies have abated somewhat. I'm still pretty allergic to cats, but not all cats, and if I can avoid touching my face after handling a cat I can usually manage to not run screaming to the bathroom in search of water. It's a huge step up from where walking into a room with a cat would make my face turn red and cause me to try to claw my brain out through my eyes out for the blessed release that death might bring. I'm still not on board with owning a cat though, which wouldn't be a problem except both Heather and my daughter would love to have one. My daughter helpfully points out that there is medicine I can buy that would help me be less lame regarding cats. My problem with that theory is, if I don't have the medicine handy, I would have to leave the house naked (because when you have a cat the hair gets everywhere), hose myself off in the back yard and then hope somebody gets me more medicine. Plus there's the fear that it will one day decide that I must die and sit on my face while I'm sleeping and nobody is watching.<br /><br />Well, that's pretty much all the time I have for posting today. I hope it was more fun than the last several have been. Here's the current SloMo Doodle:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmVzVkAApsWTEv1mk8xZn_-4Oa3phVhMAOeWIN4Mt3IUoBuZsmJbngFUpf8OHE1WztW6AEYF_tA3D8SNw98lpnywfrJMHe99tyE3ev2zJ6g05_Qe4ACicKiQM1GK-xl_NDTN4l/s1600-h/doodle5.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 193px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmVzVkAApsWTEv1mk8xZn_-4Oa3phVhMAOeWIN4Mt3IUoBuZsmJbngFUpf8OHE1WztW6AEYF_tA3D8SNw98lpnywfrJMHe99tyE3ev2zJ6g05_Qe4ACicKiQM1GK-xl_NDTN4l/s320/doodle5.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293453465996447410" border="0" /></a><br /><br />It just felt like a balloon kinda day.Collinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291745528672893691noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6469901.post-57331807653376699602009-01-19T07:30:00.001-07:002009-01-19T10:12:20.622-07:00I wish it was Sunday.'Cause that's my fun day. My "sit around playing <span style="font-style: italic;">Fable 2</span> for half the damned day" day. But no, it's time for another Monday. My apologies to The Bangles.<br /><br />I'm trying to hold at bay some kind of head sickness that involves sinus pain and a horrible pain back behind the right side of my jaw, just below my ear. Thanks to the new "health plan" that I went with this year – a high deductible with a Heath Savings Plan – and the likelihood that I'm going to take a 7.5% pay cut on top of the 25% cut I took last August – assuming my job doesn't just go away entirely– I'm going to have to ride this fucker out, wherever it takes me. The good news is the pain that I had behind my jaw has lessened to a dull ache from the stabbing, drop-me-to-my-knees pain that I had whenever I opened my mouth wide or put any pressure on my right molars yesterday. I'm thinking it was caused by drainage from my ear since there wasn't any swelling as far as I could tell. I also recall this happening before and that was the diagnosis then. The bad news is the sinus pain started this morning, accompanied by a bit of dizziness. Anyhow, here's hoping this is the worst of it.<br /><br />Enough of that.<br /><br />I'll hopefully be writing again tomorrow, and with luck have something worth writing about. Here's the doodle<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcjJVTQ9z6zoGvbe0BYhtl8u2p36dLWzlKFKJX7Ey9W-bFQcWLB7ukiOOnAs9DDRRnZpjgJEfkoPi-AqMBQxTl9dJRqESgfNPGH-pg8g0q4p61vXi3s_Ph7T6NYf-agN11gZqL/s1600-h/doodle4.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 193px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcjJVTQ9z6zoGvbe0BYhtl8u2p36dLWzlKFKJX7Ey9W-bFQcWLB7ukiOOnAs9DDRRnZpjgJEfkoPi-AqMBQxTl9dJRqESgfNPGH-pg8g0q4p61vXi3s_Ph7T6NYf-agN11gZqL/s320/doodle4.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293051646873759810" border="0" /></a><br /><br />And Trashman, thanks for putting thoughts of a "deformed nipple" in my mind. Still no plan of direction for this one.Collinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291745528672893691noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6469901.post-82953072361496633442009-01-16T14:10:00.004-07:002009-01-16T14:43:13.299-07:00Friday Fun!Well, not fun really. But it is Friday. That's gotta be worth something.<br /><br />My wee girl turns 9-years-old on Sunday, and we're having a small party for her tomorrow afternoon. So she's pretty stoked about that. Her mother bought 24 cupcakes for her to take to school and share with classmates today. Justin was unaware of this plan, what with spending most of his time yesterday in the basement studying some horribly complex computer related course that he purchased with his Christmas Barnes & Nobel gift cards. After dinner he said, "Ooh! Can I have a cupcake?" and was instantly told "No!" by everyone else in the house. I think even the dog said no. At the very least he wuffed. Poor guy. You would have thought by our reaction that he'd asked if he could eat a baby.<br /><br />Also, an update on the unfortunate rhyme incident I wrote about last week. There have been two suggestions so far that would have been better received by my dearest than "peckerwood" was. The first was from <a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/05774479570940056663">Conqueress</a> who offered "Pretty good - as I should!," and the second is from Heather's friend Shannon; "Pretty good, Hollywood!" Both of which further illustrate that I'm a moron, and should probably have a court order prohibiting me from attempting rhyme.<br /><br />I'm feeling a bit ill today, so after this post I think I'm going to lie down for awhile. I hope you all have a wonderful weekend.<br /><br />Here is today's SloMo Doodle:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmqA-rIb3akqtKiLx-LWOBLQPVVv88MMvvk-r4rN1XjDR2qgl21EduTeYzvIbolsUR551LMTDW5EBxzArhdKYBeoRTut_2clRIYK6JHUZvCCN6jKxanbk5G7hx90tTXZ1Sr8ny/s1600-h/doodle3.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 193px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmqA-rIb3akqtKiLx-LWOBLQPVVv88MMvvk-r4rN1XjDR2qgl21EduTeYzvIbolsUR551LMTDW5EBxzArhdKYBeoRTut_2clRIYK6JHUZvCCN6jKxanbk5G7hx90tTXZ1Sr8ny/s320/doodle3.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292008119189194562" /></a>Collinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291745528672893691noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6469901.post-85814379380767220802009-01-15T07:40:00.004-07:002009-01-15T07:59:00.371-07:00Oh happy responsibilities!So, I'm one of three new memmbers on our Homeowners' Association Board. I've never been a political person, so this should be interesting. It's a three year term. Hopefully I do more good than harm. I've already had one lobbyist which was kinda interesting.<br /><br />It's looking to be a busy day at work, and as far as I know it's still my short day, so I've got to cram eight hours of work into six. I'll should get started as soon as I'm done posting.<br /><br />That said, since I have nothing wondrous to impart, I'll move along to the SloMo Doodle:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBcWlaLSI8vUAeeLg1Uzd0elXnue0TLFZBfiZPgHF6xS09XSAcb5Ld8WHi-NKs4u-NJlsf9CGRba_-4qmBz_-SWV3F_BemPrjxYdLzJn6S_JNHTeNf4zQWsWBFrN6tGKi0HucG/s1600-h/doodle2.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 193px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBcWlaLSI8vUAeeLg1Uzd0elXnue0TLFZBfiZPgHF6xS09XSAcb5Ld8WHi-NKs4u-NJlsf9CGRba_-4qmBz_-SWV3F_BemPrjxYdLzJn6S_JNHTeNf4zQWsWBFrN6tGKi0HucG/s320/doodle2.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291533444052068306" /></a><br /><br />If you want to see the doodle in an earlier state, scroll back through the posts. When this doodle is done I might turn it into a stop motion style animation and post it. Or, I suppose if you wanted to, you could load each image into its own tab and then quickly cycle through them, flip-book style. Also, at this point I have no idea how many days I'll drag out a doodle. New is fun!<br /><br />And tomorrow is tomorrow, which is when I'll post again.Collinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291745528672893691noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6469901.post-30457912366605626462009-01-14T08:30:00.001-07:002009-01-14T08:58:59.766-07:00The week is only half over.Bahfooey.<br /><br />One thing that might help your Wednesday along; Derek has posted the first of the three <span style="font-style: italic;">Son of Cheese Half-Hour Power Hour</span> podcasts that we recorded last Saturday. In it "we" interview a famed star of such epics as "<a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0099496/">Elves</a>" and "The Talking Dogs Spoof Spot," <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm1653292/">Chris Graham</a>! I say "we" because if you've ever listened to the podcast, you'll know that I really don't say much. Still, it was a fun time and I hope he joins us again someday.<br /><br />I notice there's no photo of him at his IMDB page. We might need to fix that.<br /><br />Click here to listen to the fun:<br /><br /><a href="http://widegren.us/audio/cheesecast/SOCEpisode085.mp3" target="_blank"><img alt="We interview major fucking star Chris Graham" src="http://widegren.us/audio/cheesecast/socepisode085.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />On to other things.<br /><br />A long time back Heather tried to get me involved in MySpace. I stuck with it for a bit. A little bit. It just wasn't for me. I'm not sure why. My page is still there though.<br /><br />Now I'm slowly getting drawn into Facebook. If you would like to add me as a friend/contact/conspirator, just click <a href="http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=562179160">here</a> and do that voodoo that they make you do. Plus, I've been told that it's where all the cool kids go. You want to be cool, don't you? Of course you do! Next, let's try <span style="font-style: italic;">smoking!</span><br /><br />You know those kinds of posts that are basically only links to stuff that someone else has found/made? The type that is one tiny step up from a post that says <span style="font-style: italic;">I don't have anything to talk about today</span>? Since this has already been that kind of post, I may as well link to a story that appeared on BoingBoing a few days ago:<br /><br /><a href="http://www.boingboing.net/2009/01/08/mysterious-roar-from.html">That's right, <span style="font-style: italic;">this</span> is that bb story</a><br /><br />Apparently there is a mysterious "roar" in outer space.<br /><br />"Alan Kogut of NASA's Goddard Space Flight Center says he and his colleagues have discovered a mysterious "booming noise" coming from space that's six times more powerful than all other space radio sources combined."<br /><br />As interesting as the story is, what I really liked were a few of the comments. My favorites being:<br /><br />#15: It's the 20's<br />#16: "Beware, I live!"<br />and #45: "It's coming from inside the solar system, get out now!"<br /><br />So, what do you think about the "booming noise"? Is God beat-boxing in the shower? Is it a galaxy of ravers? Does it really matter since a <a href="http://www.straightdope.com/columns/read/2834/is-yellowstone-park-sitting-on-a-supervolcano-thats-about-to-blow">supervolcano</a> is going to blow us all to hell any day now? Tell me what you think.<br /><br />And the last thing for today, I've decided to start an on-line art project. I've done these kinds of things in the past, but not like this. This is going to be a slow motion doodle. I'm starting with a circle (of sorts) and each day I'll add something to it. At this point I have no idea where it's going to go. Hopefully it'll be fun. Here's the first bit<span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" > (click it to make it bigger)</span>:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOzAPyrjroPiQZSF6DrqYEzkEW98YPg9fZqpYIqJzDesp1LGa_ElZmgecm0W-u6h9j0TQw0RXJ_WA4xCFasklxwXFnmBJ4r1Ih-aBa7Rt3aKcyzWTdXW4f6oQthd8g_vL3t-PK/s1600-h/doodle1.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 193px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOzAPyrjroPiQZSF6DrqYEzkEW98YPg9fZqpYIqJzDesp1LGa_ElZmgecm0W-u6h9j0TQw0RXJ_WA4xCFasklxwXFnmBJ4r1Ih-aBa7Rt3aKcyzWTdXW4f6oQthd8g_vL3t-PK/s320/doodle1.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291177907179227666" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I'll be back to write at you more tomorrow.Collinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16291745528672893691noreply@blogger.com3