If I were Dave Barry, I would probably be claiming that this was sent to me "by an alert reader." However, I am not Dave Barry, so I will tell you that this item was sent to me by my big bro (though he is frequently an alert reader, too). Apparently, this dude was in the middle of a drawbridge, enjoying the view when it went up in the air. That's a little scary, I reckon. Making the story just a little bit more odd is that the guy in this article, the dangler, is my big bro's fraternity brother, as well as a guy who once slept on the couch in my apartment when I was in college.
My favorite part is this: "There was no structural damage done to the bridge." I'm certainly glad to hear it. Two sentences later: "Heitner walked away from the incident without any injuries." Thanks for making sure we knew about the bridge first. I was concerned.
The message here is quite clear: next time you get to wondering what happened to so-and-so from college, take a look at your local drawbridge. He may be up there.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Monday, September 25, 2006
Quote of the Day
I was listening to Jimmy Pardo's Never Not Funny (Episode 24) podcast earlier, and one of the guys was talking about his travels to Brazil. They got to talking about how they liked the Brazilian barbeque/ steakhouse thing. One guy said, "I do love their barbecue ... the sword ... meat on swords." As I puzzled over what the hell they were talking about it, another guy said, "Noooo. 'Cause I want a steak, not a fuckin' meat puzzle." I had to pause so I could laugh. Good times.
Thursday, September 21, 2006
The Trip That Wasn't
I have to add what, I think, is the second in a series of three stories about my attempts to travel this summer (the last part is told here, here, and here).
My buddy Bino is getting married later this month, and he and his Best Man/brother scheduled the requisite bachelor party. In Reno. Why Reno, you ask? I sure did. It turns out that the Best Man has a house there. They said that no one would have to pay for a hotel if everyone crashed at his place. Unfortunately, my engineering background kicked in, and I had to wonder about that not paying for a hotel thing. See, about 80% or more of those invited to the bachelor party live in the Washington, DC, area or the Pittsburgh, PA, area. I looked it up, and those two places are not close to Reno, NV, meaning that those 80+% of invitees would have to buy plane tickets (or go on very long road trips) to make the party, and those plane tickets would likely cost more than hotel rooms closer to home. That said, I get that sometimes people want to do the bachelor party thing away from home. So, even though I didn’t have the absolute best and most positive frame of mind about the trip, I knew I’d have fun once I got there, and I signed up to attend.
Getting to Reno from the Washington, DC, area is not all that simple. I couldn’t find any direct flights from any of the three airports that serve the metro area. So I had to connect somewhere. By the time I bought my ticket (which was admittedly after a lot of procrastination, but still more than three weeks away from the travel date), I had to pay a lot of money for a flight that got me in late on Thursday and left at the ass crack of dawn on Sunday. Even though I didn’t have a great attitude toward the trip, I knew I’d have fun once I got there, and I just sighed and bought the ticket.
In between buying the ticket and going on the actual trip, I went to San Francisco for a week. I’ve already detailed some of the pain and suffering that particular trip inflicted, and I’d be dishonest if I wasn’t wary of trying to fly somewhere after that experience. Still, I figured that this trip had to go more smoothly. As many, many people have oh-so-helpfully suggested upon hearing about my trip to San Fran, ATL is often a veritable quagmire in the middle of a trip, and this trip did not involve me going anywhere near there. So I was already better off. On top of that, my flight was out of National, and things generally run pretty smoothly for me out of there. Plus, I was connecting through Phoenix, and I don’t even think they have weather there. Besides, karma owed me after the BWI – OAK debacle. Right? Maybe. Even with all of those things on my side, I didn’t quite have the attitude I’d want to have about the trip ahead of time. Still, we were going to play golf, and I like that. I was counting on having fun once I got there.
A couple of days before the trip was to commence, the Best Man sent out an itinerary, which seemed to me to be long on nice/steak dinners and short on golf. Don’t get me wrong, I like to eat. That much is obvious to anyone who looks at me. However, my taste buds just aren’t all that good, really, and I don’t get excited about fancy dinners. I like good food better than bad, but I don’t seem to appreciate or enjoy it as much as so many people I know do. And since my taste buds aren’t all that good, I generally figure that the fancy dinners are wasting money that could be better spent on golf or gadgets or something of the sort. Besides, despite the fact that I hail from the Midwest, I don’t particularly like steak. Yes, I know that makes me weird, dumb, and possibly un-American, but there’s nothing I can do about it. I don’t hate it or anything, but I pretty much never order it. So that itinerary didn’t get me excited. But there was going to be some golf, and we’d do the whole hanging with the guys, drinking, and making fun of yo’ mama sort of thing. I might not have had a very good attitude about the trip, but I figured I’d have fun once I got there.
On the day of departure, I got my work wrapped up in plenty of time, packed my clothes and golf clubs, and got to the airport right on schedule (which is about 1.25 hours before departure time for me). There was a bit of a crowd standing around the check-in counter, but I breezed up to the self-service kiosk and checked in. After a few minutes of waiting, the agent called me up to check my bags. Before he did that bag-checking thing, though, he told me, “Your flight is delayed. Right now it’s supposed to get into Phoenix at 7:12. Your outbound flight is supposed to leave Phoenix at 7:40… So you should be fine the way things are right now.” And then he started to go on about the business of putting claim checks on my bags.
I pondered this development. I knew the flight was delayed. It said so right on the video screens that are not 10 feet from the line I was in. The agent seemed a bit hesitant with his last sentence. Something seemed not right to me. I mean, have you ever had a flight get delayed and then have it actually depart at the first time they give you? Me neither. Besides, the day in ATL was weighing heavily on me, and who knew what those terrorists had planned for the next day? So I asked, “Let’s just go waaaaaaaaay out on a limb and assume that the flight is going to be delayed a little more. Then what happens?”
The ticket agent must have been waiting for this, as he offered to check for other flights for me. Had he anticipated it, I suppose he could have skipped the dancing part there, but I suppose it was nice of him to tacitly suggest that I ask. After some keyboard-tapping and head-shaking, he told me they had no other flights to Reno that day. “Would you like me to check with the other airlines?” he asked.
“Damn skippy!” I thought, but I only said, “Thank you. If you think it’s a good idea, that would be nice.” He checked with those airlines for 5 or 10 minutes so that he could report that there were no seats available on any flight into Reno that day. Part of me was astounded. I thought that we have this huge air travel industry, with lots of companies flying planes all over the country. You can’t swing a mildly wounded hedgehog without hitting a plane, and there are ZERO ways to get me into Reno tonight??!! But it was only a part of me thinking that. The majority of me was completely unsurprised by the revelation that there was no other way to get there that night. I kind of expected it from the moment I saw that my flight was delayed. Maybe I should have had a better attitude, but I didn’t. So we both shrugged our shoulders and pretended like the last 10 – 15 minutes never happened, and I headed toward my gate fully expecting that there was no way I was getting into Reno that night. It bummed me out, too, as the golfing – the one part of the trip that I was stoked for – would be taking place the next morning, meaning that I would probably miss it. So I might have had a bad attitude toward the trip, but I was hoping to have fun once I got there.
I breezed through security and sat down with a book to while away some time at my gate. About 10 minutes before my flight was originally scheduled to leave, the airline folks made an announcement that there was a weather delay that held up the inbound flight, and they would turn it around just as fast as they could once it got there. They didn’t say where the weather delay was, but I assumed it was in Atlanta. Not long after that the plane landed, and the airline people announced that they would clean the plane and board us just as soon as possible. It looked like they might depart on time. I mean, at the announced, delayed time; not the actual, originally scheduled time. Whatever. It looked like they might depart on time for me to catch my flight from Phoenix to Reno. So I was feeling cautiously optimistic.
That optimism slowly drained as the announced, delayed departure time crept closer. A new announcement told me that there was a “maintenance issue with the aircraft,” and they were waiting for “maintenance personnel to clear it.” That didn’t sound good, but no one wants to fly on a plane with known maintenance issues. The departure time scooted by, and I got up to wait in what I figured was a soon-to-be long line to talk to the gate agent. I wasn’t sure what to do, but I was not excited about arriving in Reno at some undisclosed time the next day. I would miss the golf, and I might not be able to get there until late, meaning that I would have barely 36 hours there before having to get up ridiculously early to catch that ass crack of dawn flight home. About the time I got up to get in line, the friendly airline people made an announcement to explain the maintenance issue that had been holding us up: one of the engines had been hit by lightning on the way in. At that point, almost everyone in the gate area streamed into line to talk to the gate agent. My prescience never seemed so … prescient, and I tried not to get hurt patting myself on the back for getting in line earlier. All those people were in line behind me. Some of them were apparently Very Important, though, as they couldn’t be bothered to wait in line, walking up to the front and telling the gate agent that they “just wanted to be rebooked on another flight.” These Very Important people were not at all happy when my favorite gate agent ever told them that the rest of the people in line were probably wondering the same thing, and he would be happy to help them if they would just wait their turn in line. I refrained from giving them a Nelson Muntz-ian “HA-ha,” along with an Abs-ian finger as they angrily walked away muttering, “I’ll just call the VIP reservations line, then.” Good idea. If you have a VIP number, why the hell would you get in line to wait?! Ass clowns.
When it was my turn with the gate agent, he did some keyboard-tapping before telling me that there were no other flights to Reno that I could go on that night. I felt a little déjà vu here, but thanked him for checking. He told me that I could either spend the night in Phoenix or spend it in DC. It was up to me, but it would probably be better to go to Phoenix. I didn’t get into whom it was better for or pointing out that I had been through this before, and there was no chance I was going to give any terrorists another chance to force me to spend a day of vacation in an airport. Instead, I said, “Here’s the thing. If I can’t get there by tomorrow morning, it’s kind of not worth going.” As if they’d give me a refund or even credit toward a future flight or something. Yeah, right. I fully expected him to laugh demonically and say, “That’s TOO BAD! You WILL go to Reno, OR YOU WILL LOSE YOUR MONEY!! THERE’S NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT!! THERE ARE FEWER AIRLINES THAN EVER AND MORE PEOPLE TRAVELING THAN EVER AND YOU HAVE LITTLE TO NO RECOURSE!!!! BWOOO-HA-HA!”
Instead, without batting an eye, my favorite gate agent ever said, “We can give you a refund.”
That’s right. He offered me a refund for my airfare. And I didn’t even have to get mad or beg for it. I snapped up the offer before he had a chance to rethink it. It took a while to get it in the system, due to the fact that my ticket was through US Airways, but the flight was on America West, who had just merged with/bought US Airways, and the integration of their systems wasn’t really complete yet. It took two gate agents with two computers and a phone to process my refund, but I did not once even start to make light bulb-related jokes. As it turned out, they really only got it into the system for processing, meaning that I wouldn’t have my money back for a while, and I only had a vague, non-official looking piece of paper as proof that I should get a refund at all. However, I wasn’t going to fight that battle at this point, and I started to head home.
I remembered just in time to ask for my bags back, and they managed to produce them in only 15 – 20 minutes. I grabbed them and headed home, feeling as if someone had just given me an extra weekend.
I felt bad for missing Bino’s bachelor party, but he was stuck drinking beers in the Denver airport when I called to tell him that I wouldn’t make it. Apparently, the weather (probably in Atlanta) was delaying his flight as well. So he was very understanding. As it turns out, I got to play a couple of rounds of golf that weekend, and none of the people attending the bachelor party had to spend the whole weekend sitting in airports. I even got my refund for the plane ticket about a month later without having to call and bitch at people. Everybody wins.
Maybe, this summer, the best trip for me was one I didn’t take.
My buddy Bino is getting married later this month, and he and his Best Man/brother scheduled the requisite bachelor party. In Reno. Why Reno, you ask? I sure did. It turns out that the Best Man has a house there. They said that no one would have to pay for a hotel if everyone crashed at his place. Unfortunately, my engineering background kicked in, and I had to wonder about that not paying for a hotel thing. See, about 80% or more of those invited to the bachelor party live in the Washington, DC, area or the Pittsburgh, PA, area. I looked it up, and those two places are not close to Reno, NV, meaning that those 80+% of invitees would have to buy plane tickets (or go on very long road trips) to make the party, and those plane tickets would likely cost more than hotel rooms closer to home. That said, I get that sometimes people want to do the bachelor party thing away from home. So, even though I didn’t have the absolute best and most positive frame of mind about the trip, I knew I’d have fun once I got there, and I signed up to attend.
Getting to Reno from the Washington, DC, area is not all that simple. I couldn’t find any direct flights from any of the three airports that serve the metro area. So I had to connect somewhere. By the time I bought my ticket (which was admittedly after a lot of procrastination, but still more than three weeks away from the travel date), I had to pay a lot of money for a flight that got me in late on Thursday and left at the ass crack of dawn on Sunday. Even though I didn’t have a great attitude toward the trip, I knew I’d have fun once I got there, and I just sighed and bought the ticket.
In between buying the ticket and going on the actual trip, I went to San Francisco for a week. I’ve already detailed some of the pain and suffering that particular trip inflicted, and I’d be dishonest if I wasn’t wary of trying to fly somewhere after that experience. Still, I figured that this trip had to go more smoothly. As many, many people have oh-so-helpfully suggested upon hearing about my trip to San Fran, ATL is often a veritable quagmire in the middle of a trip, and this trip did not involve me going anywhere near there. So I was already better off. On top of that, my flight was out of National, and things generally run pretty smoothly for me out of there. Plus, I was connecting through Phoenix, and I don’t even think they have weather there. Besides, karma owed me after the BWI – OAK debacle. Right? Maybe. Even with all of those things on my side, I didn’t quite have the attitude I’d want to have about the trip ahead of time. Still, we were going to play golf, and I like that. I was counting on having fun once I got there.
A couple of days before the trip was to commence, the Best Man sent out an itinerary, which seemed to me to be long on nice/steak dinners and short on golf. Don’t get me wrong, I like to eat. That much is obvious to anyone who looks at me. However, my taste buds just aren’t all that good, really, and I don’t get excited about fancy dinners. I like good food better than bad, but I don’t seem to appreciate or enjoy it as much as so many people I know do. And since my taste buds aren’t all that good, I generally figure that the fancy dinners are wasting money that could be better spent on golf or gadgets or something of the sort. Besides, despite the fact that I hail from the Midwest, I don’t particularly like steak. Yes, I know that makes me weird, dumb, and possibly un-American, but there’s nothing I can do about it. I don’t hate it or anything, but I pretty much never order it. So that itinerary didn’t get me excited. But there was going to be some golf, and we’d do the whole hanging with the guys, drinking, and making fun of yo’ mama sort of thing. I might not have had a very good attitude about the trip, but I figured I’d have fun once I got there.
On the day of departure, I got my work wrapped up in plenty of time, packed my clothes and golf clubs, and got to the airport right on schedule (which is about 1.25 hours before departure time for me). There was a bit of a crowd standing around the check-in counter, but I breezed up to the self-service kiosk and checked in. After a few minutes of waiting, the agent called me up to check my bags. Before he did that bag-checking thing, though, he told me, “Your flight is delayed. Right now it’s supposed to get into Phoenix at 7:12. Your outbound flight is supposed to leave Phoenix at 7:40… So you should be fine the way things are right now.” And then he started to go on about the business of putting claim checks on my bags.
I pondered this development. I knew the flight was delayed. It said so right on the video screens that are not 10 feet from the line I was in. The agent seemed a bit hesitant with his last sentence. Something seemed not right to me. I mean, have you ever had a flight get delayed and then have it actually depart at the first time they give you? Me neither. Besides, the day in ATL was weighing heavily on me, and who knew what those terrorists had planned for the next day? So I asked, “Let’s just go waaaaaaaaay out on a limb and assume that the flight is going to be delayed a little more. Then what happens?”
The ticket agent must have been waiting for this, as he offered to check for other flights for me. Had he anticipated it, I suppose he could have skipped the dancing part there, but I suppose it was nice of him to tacitly suggest that I ask. After some keyboard-tapping and head-shaking, he told me they had no other flights to Reno that day. “Would you like me to check with the other airlines?” he asked.
“Damn skippy!” I thought, but I only said, “Thank you. If you think it’s a good idea, that would be nice.” He checked with those airlines for 5 or 10 minutes so that he could report that there were no seats available on any flight into Reno that day. Part of me was astounded. I thought that we have this huge air travel industry, with lots of companies flying planes all over the country. You can’t swing a mildly wounded hedgehog without hitting a plane, and there are ZERO ways to get me into Reno tonight??!! But it was only a part of me thinking that. The majority of me was completely unsurprised by the revelation that there was no other way to get there that night. I kind of expected it from the moment I saw that my flight was delayed. Maybe I should have had a better attitude, but I didn’t. So we both shrugged our shoulders and pretended like the last 10 – 15 minutes never happened, and I headed toward my gate fully expecting that there was no way I was getting into Reno that night. It bummed me out, too, as the golfing – the one part of the trip that I was stoked for – would be taking place the next morning, meaning that I would probably miss it. So I might have had a bad attitude toward the trip, but I was hoping to have fun once I got there.
I breezed through security and sat down with a book to while away some time at my gate. About 10 minutes before my flight was originally scheduled to leave, the airline folks made an announcement that there was a weather delay that held up the inbound flight, and they would turn it around just as fast as they could once it got there. They didn’t say where the weather delay was, but I assumed it was in Atlanta. Not long after that the plane landed, and the airline people announced that they would clean the plane and board us just as soon as possible. It looked like they might depart on time. I mean, at the announced, delayed time; not the actual, originally scheduled time. Whatever. It looked like they might depart on time for me to catch my flight from Phoenix to Reno. So I was feeling cautiously optimistic.
That optimism slowly drained as the announced, delayed departure time crept closer. A new announcement told me that there was a “maintenance issue with the aircraft,” and they were waiting for “maintenance personnel to clear it.” That didn’t sound good, but no one wants to fly on a plane with known maintenance issues. The departure time scooted by, and I got up to wait in what I figured was a soon-to-be long line to talk to the gate agent. I wasn’t sure what to do, but I was not excited about arriving in Reno at some undisclosed time the next day. I would miss the golf, and I might not be able to get there until late, meaning that I would have barely 36 hours there before having to get up ridiculously early to catch that ass crack of dawn flight home. About the time I got up to get in line, the friendly airline people made an announcement to explain the maintenance issue that had been holding us up: one of the engines had been hit by lightning on the way in. At that point, almost everyone in the gate area streamed into line to talk to the gate agent. My prescience never seemed so … prescient, and I tried not to get hurt patting myself on the back for getting in line earlier. All those people were in line behind me. Some of them were apparently Very Important, though, as they couldn’t be bothered to wait in line, walking up to the front and telling the gate agent that they “just wanted to be rebooked on another flight.” These Very Important people were not at all happy when my favorite gate agent ever told them that the rest of the people in line were probably wondering the same thing, and he would be happy to help them if they would just wait their turn in line. I refrained from giving them a Nelson Muntz-ian “HA-ha,” along with an Abs-ian finger as they angrily walked away muttering, “I’ll just call the VIP reservations line, then.” Good idea. If you have a VIP number, why the hell would you get in line to wait?! Ass clowns.
When it was my turn with the gate agent, he did some keyboard-tapping before telling me that there were no other flights to Reno that I could go on that night. I felt a little déjà vu here, but thanked him for checking. He told me that I could either spend the night in Phoenix or spend it in DC. It was up to me, but it would probably be better to go to Phoenix. I didn’t get into whom it was better for or pointing out that I had been through this before, and there was no chance I was going to give any terrorists another chance to force me to spend a day of vacation in an airport. Instead, I said, “Here’s the thing. If I can’t get there by tomorrow morning, it’s kind of not worth going.” As if they’d give me a refund or even credit toward a future flight or something. Yeah, right. I fully expected him to laugh demonically and say, “That’s TOO BAD! You WILL go to Reno, OR YOU WILL LOSE YOUR MONEY!! THERE’S NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT!! THERE ARE FEWER AIRLINES THAN EVER AND MORE PEOPLE TRAVELING THAN EVER AND YOU HAVE LITTLE TO NO RECOURSE!!!! BWOOO-HA-HA!”
Instead, without batting an eye, my favorite gate agent ever said, “We can give you a refund.”
That’s right. He offered me a refund for my airfare. And I didn’t even have to get mad or beg for it. I snapped up the offer before he had a chance to rethink it. It took a while to get it in the system, due to the fact that my ticket was through US Airways, but the flight was on America West, who had just merged with/bought US Airways, and the integration of their systems wasn’t really complete yet. It took two gate agents with two computers and a phone to process my refund, but I did not once even start to make light bulb-related jokes. As it turned out, they really only got it into the system for processing, meaning that I wouldn’t have my money back for a while, and I only had a vague, non-official looking piece of paper as proof that I should get a refund at all. However, I wasn’t going to fight that battle at this point, and I started to head home.
I remembered just in time to ask for my bags back, and they managed to produce them in only 15 – 20 minutes. I grabbed them and headed home, feeling as if someone had just given me an extra weekend.
I felt bad for missing Bino’s bachelor party, but he was stuck drinking beers in the Denver airport when I called to tell him that I wouldn’t make it. Apparently, the weather (probably in Atlanta) was delaying his flight as well. So he was very understanding. As it turns out, I got to play a couple of rounds of golf that weekend, and none of the people attending the bachelor party had to spend the whole weekend sitting in airports. I even got my refund for the plane ticket about a month later without having to call and bitch at people. Everybody wins.
Maybe, this summer, the best trip for me was one I didn’t take.
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Strange Brains Indeed
Back in the day, Lawton and I used to sit around and babble back and forth, usually while tossing a ball around the house, sometimes for hours on end, and come up with strange ideas to entertain ourselves. We were absolutely babbling, but we loved it. I don’t think anyone else thought we were especially funny or entertaining, but we usually made ourselves laugh quite a bit. These days, we live about 4 hours away from each other, seriously diminishing our face-to-face riff time. While we can’t throw the ball around very often from that distance, we do get going every once in a while on IM. We recently had just that type of exchange. I recognize that this may fall under the category of things that only amuse me, but I’ve gone ahead and included the exchange for your reading pleasure. If you are a movie producer who likes the idea, have at it. Just give us our props when you do.
If you think you’re likely to be offended by this post, by all means stop reading. If you read it and end up offended by it … I don’t know what to tell you. Bummer. You should know that we are almost never serious, though, except for the part about not liking Notre Dame.
If you’re disturbed by it, then you’re probably normal or something.
[The screen names have been changed, and some of the more glaring typos have been fixed. The times next to each line are a running clock from the beginning of our IM chat. Other than that, this is our actual conversation in all its raw, unvarnished, and somewhat offensive glory (or ignominy – I can’t really decide).]
Session Start (abs:lawton): [00:00]
[00:00 – 00:22] [Warm up period, edited for time.]
[00:23] abs: btw, i was able to get the pti podcast from yesterday. it was available around 9 last night. but not at 8.
[00:24] lawton: hmm... that's better. same day service is the key for next day listening.
[00:24] abs: yes. i think so. it does makes sense that they didn't have podcasts for the shows that never happened on thursday and friday last week.
[00:25] lawton: yes. i wonder why all i heard about is a two day lag. that would be worthless.
[00:26] abs: indeed it would. i was quite happy to get it last night. it did make the drive a little better this morning.
[00:27] lawton: wilbon gets pretty fired up about notre dame, doesn't he? he wouldn't move off it.
[00:28] abs: no, he wouldn't. he was pissed.
[00:28] lawton: i think it's a chicago thing. you're either for Michigan or ND. Fetus was a ND lover and had the whole spin on the Michigan fight song:
[00:28] abs: ohio state has lots of those michigan fight song take-offs.
[00:28] lawton: Hail to the mother fuckers! Hail to those cheap cocksuckers! Hail, hail to Michigan... the assholes of the world!
[00:28] abs: nice.
[00:29] lawton: he would sing that shit all the time. it drove me nuts, but every time i hear the fight song...that's what comes to mind.
[00:29] abs: i haven't liked ND since high school. but i don't care enough to hate them.
[00:29] lawton: i've got no real beef with them. they had no justification for firing Willingham, but i see no other reason to hate.
[00:30] abs: agreed. i just don't like them. probably because catholics everywhere root for them for no apparent reason.
[00:31] lawton: i suppose i can buy that. transference of general irritation of a populace to an object that can be actively monitored and disliked. i shall dislike them too. now, if we had enough lions...
[00:32] abs: yes. never enough lions when you need them. you always hear about them taking on christians, but you never actually see it.
[00:33] lawton: if the cliché involved jews, then you'd see al qaeda and hezbollah getting away from suicide bombers and rocket attacks, and going more towards strategic lion releases.
[00:34] abs: probably true.
[00:35] lawton: but with christians, it can't get to that level... more generalized seething, but not massive enough for satisfaction. they merit plane attacks, nuclear (or nukular), and biological attacks.
[00:37] lawton: i like the concept of a strategic lion release. instead of some fool driving around in an explosive-laden truck, instead you see them in a taxi, with a lion in the back seat. much more comical. especially at the point of release. the lion will either run out angry or yawn and lay down for a nap.
[00:38] abs: it would make for a good video. pretty funny. sometimes there would be terror, sometimes the terrorist would get mauled, and sometimes the lion would just sit there.
[00:39] abs: homeland security would come in with agents wielding whips and chairs.
[00:39] lawton: ha!
[00:39] abs: and then there would be an investigative back story showing how the lions were smuggled in.
[00:40] abs: maybe shady-looking people with ridiculously huge jackets draped over lion cages.
[00:40] abs: i mean like parachute-sized jackets.
[00:41] lawton: yeah, or sedated lions wearing ridiculously shabby camel or donkey suits.
[00:41] abs: that would be good, too. probably both. the evolution of lion smuggling. obviously, the parachute jackets wouldn't work, and those guys would get arrested.
[00:42] abs: you could see them being interrogated, first denying all knowledge, then denying that it's a lion, then finally breaking and admitting it.
[00:43] abs: the interrogators would be at a complete loss to explain the lions, but it would spur homeland security to get $4.3 billion to create the secret lion tamer program that trains the lion tamers who show up to battle the lions when they're released.
[00:43] abs: total documentary style. start with the release. then work backward.
[00:45] lawton: the successful capture and interrogation does one more thing that saves the Bush administration... and just in time for the mid-term elections. if one lion were to be released into a catholic church during mass... you've got a WMD.
[00:46] abs: nice. the administration would do a black bag op to threaten to release a lion in the vatican if certain officials aren't elected.
[00:49] lawton: i'm not sure the vatican could defend. the swiss guard may have fancy pants and swords, but a lion would chew that ass right up. all the officials are old dudes who could never outrun a lion. if you could get it over the wall... it's all over. I'm picturing a lion wearing a parachute and being catapulted over the wall. He would definitely feel like chewing some ass if he were catapulted over a wall.
[00:49] abs: lmao! that's excellent!
[00:51] lawton: the only problem i foresee is entanglement in the chute. you'd hate to send over such a potent weapon only to have it capture itself. unless it had detachable shrouds, it would need some other type of descent method. A couple hundred helium balloons or such.
[00:52] abs: i was thinking one of those stunt landing pads. you somehow attach it under the lion and then inflate it right after launching the whole thing from the catapult.
[00:53] abs: in typical terrorist style, you would use your cell phone as a remote to activate it.
[00:53] lawton: that's it! like the mars pathfinder. plus it would then roll when it hits the ground to really agitate the lion.
[00:54] abs: exactly.
[00:55] abs: they'd try to do a simultaneous lion launch to increase the efficacy of the attack, but some calls wouldn't go through, meaning that there would be some lion loss.
[00:56] abs: and the commentators would all talk about how effective the attack could have been if it had all work, leaving people at home shaking their heads and thinking, "those bumbling terrorists!"
[00:57] lawton: yes... it just wouldn't do if it were one lion. they certainly are all about scaling up. some would be apprehended building catapults outside the vatican walls, sending everyone into high alert. so now you've got lions in large coats and a terrorist trying to conceal a catapult inside something like a bucket truck.
[00:59] abs: yes. so maybe they are able to launch 20% of the overall planned lion launch.
[01:00] abs: btw, did you notice how we are both tasteful enough to avoid talking about the cat-apult pun?
[01:00] abs: i'm proud of us.
[01:00] lawton: yes, very tempting. but such low hanging fruit. i irritated myself for going for WMD.
[01:01] abs: hmm. i wish someone other than us had come up with this idea. someone who would have the good sense to make it into a mockumentary.
[01:02] lawton: the ideal choice is matt stone and trey parker, but it would have to be goofily animated. it would detract from the overall beauty. maybe a kevin smith could pull it off.
[01:02] abs: maybe. i think it would have to be animated. because you can't go hurting lions.
[01:03] abs: people will get mad, although probably not the notre dame fans.
[01:03] lawton: yes, bastards. animated and mockumentary do go well together, but not in the south park style. it needs to be more crisp.
[01:04] abs: i agree. the south park style wouldn't work. it would definitely be cooler as a live action thing, but i just don't see how it would work.
[01:05] lawton: pixar/disney would never touch it, but that style could work. it would show a darker side of cgi.
[01:05] abs: i like that idea. sigh.
[01:06] abs: you do realize that we got here by talking about ND, right?
[01:06] lawton: yes. i also realize this is what makes us writers, but never producers.
[01:06] abs: true. someone could figure out how to make it work.
[01:07] abs: why isn't someone paying us for this idea?
[01:08] lawton: we need representation. think about the clearinghouse of profitable ideas we have intellectual property of: the midget periscope, the cock sock, the lion/vatican mockumentary, etc.
[01:08] abs: it's true. we're sitting on a gold mine if we can get hooked up with the right actualization specialist.
[01:08] abs: and i had forgotten about the cock sock.
[01:09] abs: marvelous.
[01:09] lawton: we would want to farm that out to a shell company... that would detract from our desired audience.
[01:09] lawton: brb
[01:09] abs: k
[01:25] lawton: back now
[01:25] abs: cool. me too.
[01:25] lawton: though, i'm thinking about grabbing some eats
[01:25] abs: yes. good idea. i just ate.
[01:25] lawton: will be back later
[01:25] abs: cool. e.
[01:25] lawton: e
Session Close (lawton): [01:25]
No lions or people were harmed in the making of this chat session or blog post.
If you think you’re likely to be offended by this post, by all means stop reading. If you read it and end up offended by it … I don’t know what to tell you. Bummer. You should know that we are almost never serious, though, except for the part about not liking Notre Dame.
If you’re disturbed by it, then you’re probably normal or something.
[The screen names have been changed, and some of the more glaring typos have been fixed. The times next to each line are a running clock from the beginning of our IM chat. Other than that, this is our actual conversation in all its raw, unvarnished, and somewhat offensive glory (or ignominy – I can’t really decide).]
Session Start (abs:lawton): [00:00]
[00:00 – 00:22] [Warm up period, edited for time.]
[00:23] abs: btw, i was able to get the pti podcast from yesterday. it was available around 9 last night. but not at 8.
[00:24] lawton: hmm... that's better. same day service is the key for next day listening.
[00:24] abs: yes. i think so. it does makes sense that they didn't have podcasts for the shows that never happened on thursday and friday last week.
[00:25] lawton: yes. i wonder why all i heard about is a two day lag. that would be worthless.
[00:26] abs: indeed it would. i was quite happy to get it last night. it did make the drive a little better this morning.
[00:27] lawton: wilbon gets pretty fired up about notre dame, doesn't he? he wouldn't move off it.
[00:28] abs: no, he wouldn't. he was pissed.
[00:28] lawton: i think it's a chicago thing. you're either for Michigan or ND. Fetus was a ND lover and had the whole spin on the Michigan fight song:
[00:28] abs: ohio state has lots of those michigan fight song take-offs.
[00:28] lawton: Hail to the mother fuckers! Hail to those cheap cocksuckers! Hail, hail to Michigan... the assholes of the world!
[00:28] abs: nice.
[00:29] lawton: he would sing that shit all the time. it drove me nuts, but every time i hear the fight song...that's what comes to mind.
[00:29] abs: i haven't liked ND since high school. but i don't care enough to hate them.
[00:29] lawton: i've got no real beef with them. they had no justification for firing Willingham, but i see no other reason to hate.
[00:30] abs: agreed. i just don't like them. probably because catholics everywhere root for them for no apparent reason.
[00:31] lawton: i suppose i can buy that. transference of general irritation of a populace to an object that can be actively monitored and disliked. i shall dislike them too. now, if we had enough lions...
[00:32] abs: yes. never enough lions when you need them. you always hear about them taking on christians, but you never actually see it.
[00:33] lawton: if the cliché involved jews, then you'd see al qaeda and hezbollah getting away from suicide bombers and rocket attacks, and going more towards strategic lion releases.
[00:34] abs: probably true.
[00:35] lawton: but with christians, it can't get to that level... more generalized seething, but not massive enough for satisfaction. they merit plane attacks, nuclear (or nukular), and biological attacks.
[00:37] lawton: i like the concept of a strategic lion release. instead of some fool driving around in an explosive-laden truck, instead you see them in a taxi, with a lion in the back seat. much more comical. especially at the point of release. the lion will either run out angry or yawn and lay down for a nap.
[00:38] abs: it would make for a good video. pretty funny. sometimes there would be terror, sometimes the terrorist would get mauled, and sometimes the lion would just sit there.
[00:39] abs: homeland security would come in with agents wielding whips and chairs.
[00:39] lawton: ha!
[00:39] abs: and then there would be an investigative back story showing how the lions were smuggled in.
[00:40] abs: maybe shady-looking people with ridiculously huge jackets draped over lion cages.
[00:40] abs: i mean like parachute-sized jackets.
[00:41] lawton: yeah, or sedated lions wearing ridiculously shabby camel or donkey suits.
[00:41] abs: that would be good, too. probably both. the evolution of lion smuggling. obviously, the parachute jackets wouldn't work, and those guys would get arrested.
[00:42] abs: you could see them being interrogated, first denying all knowledge, then denying that it's a lion, then finally breaking and admitting it.
[00:43] abs: the interrogators would be at a complete loss to explain the lions, but it would spur homeland security to get $4.3 billion to create the secret lion tamer program that trains the lion tamers who show up to battle the lions when they're released.
[00:43] abs: total documentary style. start with the release. then work backward.
[00:45] lawton: the successful capture and interrogation does one more thing that saves the Bush administration... and just in time for the mid-term elections. if one lion were to be released into a catholic church during mass... you've got a WMD.
[00:46] abs: nice. the administration would do a black bag op to threaten to release a lion in the vatican if certain officials aren't elected.
[00:49] lawton: i'm not sure the vatican could defend. the swiss guard may have fancy pants and swords, but a lion would chew that ass right up. all the officials are old dudes who could never outrun a lion. if you could get it over the wall... it's all over. I'm picturing a lion wearing a parachute and being catapulted over the wall. He would definitely feel like chewing some ass if he were catapulted over a wall.
[00:49] abs: lmao! that's excellent!
[00:51] lawton: the only problem i foresee is entanglement in the chute. you'd hate to send over such a potent weapon only to have it capture itself. unless it had detachable shrouds, it would need some other type of descent method. A couple hundred helium balloons or such.
[00:52] abs: i was thinking one of those stunt landing pads. you somehow attach it under the lion and then inflate it right after launching the whole thing from the catapult.
[00:53] abs: in typical terrorist style, you would use your cell phone as a remote to activate it.
[00:53] lawton: that's it! like the mars pathfinder. plus it would then roll when it hits the ground to really agitate the lion.
[00:54] abs: exactly.
[00:55] abs: they'd try to do a simultaneous lion launch to increase the efficacy of the attack, but some calls wouldn't go through, meaning that there would be some lion loss.
[00:56] abs: and the commentators would all talk about how effective the attack could have been if it had all work, leaving people at home shaking their heads and thinking, "those bumbling terrorists!"
[00:57] lawton: yes... it just wouldn't do if it were one lion. they certainly are all about scaling up. some would be apprehended building catapults outside the vatican walls, sending everyone into high alert. so now you've got lions in large coats and a terrorist trying to conceal a catapult inside something like a bucket truck.
[00:59] abs: yes. so maybe they are able to launch 20% of the overall planned lion launch.
[01:00] abs: btw, did you notice how we are both tasteful enough to avoid talking about the cat-apult pun?
[01:00] abs: i'm proud of us.
[01:00] lawton: yes, very tempting. but such low hanging fruit. i irritated myself for going for WMD.
[01:01] abs: hmm. i wish someone other than us had come up with this idea. someone who would have the good sense to make it into a mockumentary.
[01:02] lawton: the ideal choice is matt stone and trey parker, but it would have to be goofily animated. it would detract from the overall beauty. maybe a kevin smith could pull it off.
[01:02] abs: maybe. i think it would have to be animated. because you can't go hurting lions.
[01:03] abs: people will get mad, although probably not the notre dame fans.
[01:03] lawton: yes, bastards. animated and mockumentary do go well together, but not in the south park style. it needs to be more crisp.
[01:04] abs: i agree. the south park style wouldn't work. it would definitely be cooler as a live action thing, but i just don't see how it would work.
[01:05] lawton: pixar/disney would never touch it, but that style could work. it would show a darker side of cgi.
[01:05] abs: i like that idea. sigh.
[01:06] abs: you do realize that we got here by talking about ND, right?
[01:06] lawton: yes. i also realize this is what makes us writers, but never producers.
[01:06] abs: true. someone could figure out how to make it work.
[01:07] abs: why isn't someone paying us for this idea?
[01:08] lawton: we need representation. think about the clearinghouse of profitable ideas we have intellectual property of: the midget periscope, the cock sock, the lion/vatican mockumentary, etc.
[01:08] abs: it's true. we're sitting on a gold mine if we can get hooked up with the right actualization specialist.
[01:08] abs: and i had forgotten about the cock sock.
[01:09] abs: marvelous.
[01:09] lawton: we would want to farm that out to a shell company... that would detract from our desired audience.
[01:09] lawton: brb
[01:09] abs: k
[01:25] lawton: back now
[01:25] abs: cool. me too.
[01:25] lawton: though, i'm thinking about grabbing some eats
[01:25] abs: yes. good idea. i just ate.
[01:25] lawton: will be back later
[01:25] abs: cool. e.
[01:25] lawton: e
Session Close (lawton): [01:25]
No lions or people were harmed in the making of this chat session or blog post.
Monday, September 11, 2006
MY Space
I’ve mentioned before that my apartment has some noise issues. I even received a warning about it … just after I moved in. But I reckon I’ve mostly adjusted to those things, as I’ve signed a lease to stay for another year. I still don’t like the noise problems at all, but I deal with it. My apartment’s not all bad, though. I generally like it. The layout is good, and there’s not enough living or storage space for me to go into a real crap-accumulation cycle like I did at the spacious rented house I lived in for 6 years, resulting in some serious frustration on my part when moving out and maybe even some back strains for the garbage men. One of my favorite things about the place is that I have a reserved parking spot in the garage. I really like the idea of not having to scrape windows or brush snow off the car or deal with rain on the way out. It’s nice. Now, it’s not perfect. The garage is under the building, and it’s huge, but there are no doors on it. The lack of doors is kind of nice when you’re trying to get in and out, as you don’t have to wait for security doors to go up and down, there’s no chance that you’ll be trapped in or locked out when the opener breaks, etc. However, the lack of doors also means things can come in. Like birds. There are about a dozen or so birds that have flown in and made nests in the false ceiling of the garage. Yes. It has a false ceiling. Why, you ask? I don’t know. Maybe it’s so they can make it look nicer and not show wires or pipes running along a bare concrete ceiling. Maybe it’s so they can nicely flush-mount the sprinkler heads rather than have them sitting in the open air. Maybe it’s to give the birds a place to make nests.
Naturally, those birds don’t make nests just anywhere. They make them within 30 feet of my car. On nest is only one spot away from my parking space. As a result, while having a garage spot does spare me abuse from the elements as I approach my car, it does not in any way protect my car from getting nailed with prodigious amounts of bird shit. In fact, I am often astounded by the amount of bird shit on my car. The Girl thinks they’ve heard me talking about how unwelcome they are and are just sort of flipping me the bird, so to speak. The nest nearest my car even had babies in it for a while, which might be cute if it were outside my living room window, but it nothing of the sort when it increases the amount of droppings on my vehicle. So it’s a dirty, shit-splattered parking space. But it’s my dirty, shit-splattered parking space. It’s comfy, and it’s convenient.
The other night I came home from softball feeling triumphant but exhausted after two big wins for the team. I was a bit sore after arriving at the field too late to adequately warm up or stretch (a bigger no-no for me as I seem to continue to get older and less limber all the time), and I was very much looking forward to a nice shower. As I pulled into my garage and prepared to back into my parking space, I noticed a problem: there was a silver Toyota Camry parked there. I said something not very nice and got out to take a closer look. That closer looked confirmed that there was indeed another car parked in my parking space. (I know it seems like an unnecessary step, but I was hoping it was a mirage.) At that hour all four of my complex’s visitor spots were full, and I had to park on the street about a block and a half away. As you might imagine the uphill walk to my apartment gave me just enough time to get really steamed, and I called to have that Camry towed. I considered just letting it go. I mean, once the car was towed out, I wasn’t going to walk the block and half back to my car so I could move it to my space. So what really would be the point in towing the car? I decided that was crap. The point is that the parking space clearly says “RESERVED,” and I was cranky. So I towed the ass out of that car, and I later took no small amount of satisfaction in watching the process. I even took some pics to commemorate the occasion. Here is a picture of my parking space, restored to its natural, non-stolen state:
Notice the (partially cut-off but still legible) “RESERVED” at the bottom, there. It might as well say, “STAY THE HELL OUT!” But wait, what’s that white rectangle in there?
I couldn’t help myself. I left a note. Was that mean? Vindictive? Asshole-ish? Perhaps it was. But you could argue that it was nice to tell the driver that his car hadn’t been stolen. Besides, you should be proud of me. I resisted adding “Have a nice day.”
Naturally, those birds don’t make nests just anywhere. They make them within 30 feet of my car. On nest is only one spot away from my parking space. As a result, while having a garage spot does spare me abuse from the elements as I approach my car, it does not in any way protect my car from getting nailed with prodigious amounts of bird shit. In fact, I am often astounded by the amount of bird shit on my car. The Girl thinks they’ve heard me talking about how unwelcome they are and are just sort of flipping me the bird, so to speak. The nest nearest my car even had babies in it for a while, which might be cute if it were outside my living room window, but it nothing of the sort when it increases the amount of droppings on my vehicle. So it’s a dirty, shit-splattered parking space. But it’s my dirty, shit-splattered parking space. It’s comfy, and it’s convenient.
The other night I came home from softball feeling triumphant but exhausted after two big wins for the team. I was a bit sore after arriving at the field too late to adequately warm up or stretch (a bigger no-no for me as I seem to continue to get older and less limber all the time), and I was very much looking forward to a nice shower. As I pulled into my garage and prepared to back into my parking space, I noticed a problem: there was a silver Toyota Camry parked there. I said something not very nice and got out to take a closer look. That closer looked confirmed that there was indeed another car parked in my parking space. (I know it seems like an unnecessary step, but I was hoping it was a mirage.) At that hour all four of my complex’s visitor spots were full, and I had to park on the street about a block and a half away. As you might imagine the uphill walk to my apartment gave me just enough time to get really steamed, and I called to have that Camry towed. I considered just letting it go. I mean, once the car was towed out, I wasn’t going to walk the block and half back to my car so I could move it to my space. So what really would be the point in towing the car? I decided that was crap. The point is that the parking space clearly says “RESERVED,” and I was cranky. So I towed the ass out of that car, and I later took no small amount of satisfaction in watching the process. I even took some pics to commemorate the occasion. Here is a picture of my parking space, restored to its natural, non-stolen state:
Notice the (partially cut-off but still legible) “RESERVED” at the bottom, there. It might as well say, “STAY THE HELL OUT!” But wait, what’s that white rectangle in there?
I couldn’t help myself. I left a note. Was that mean? Vindictive? Asshole-ish? Perhaps it was. But you could argue that it was nice to tell the driver that his car hadn’t been stolen. Besides, you should be proud of me. I resisted adding “Have a nice day.”
Thursday, September 07, 2006
Shotgun!
Last week, I went to lunch with a few co-workers. As this was on one of the days that I actually venture into the office, we all headed toward the cars together. Getting in the elevator, one ambitious girl casually called, “Shotgun.” I was, of course, extremely put off by this act. I looked at her, shook my head in disappointment, and said, “You can’t call that yet.” She thought that was a bunch of crap, but I went on to explain that you definitely can’t call Shotgun while you’re in the elevator. You have to be outside. In fact, I would argue that you have to be in sight of the car to make the call. Some people just think it’s being outside that matters, but I think reasonable people agree that calling Shotgun while in the elevator is a no-no. Don’t you agree?
Maybe you don’t. I’ve been party to a Shotgun discrepancy or two over the years, and I have always stuck to my guns (if you’ll pardon the pun) on the rules. To make a blatant, gender-based generalization, it’s usually girls who try to call Shotgun indoors. Sometimes, they even try to argue about the rules. While I have clearly been in the right about this, the tricky part is that one could argue that Shotgun is played under different rules depending on the community, much like college basketball usually tries to enforce the game’s fundamental rules and concepts while the NBA generally spits on them. And it’s always been hard to argue against that concept.
But no more! The Internet has finally made itself useful and posted The Official Shotgun Rules. Read them. Know them. Live them. I feel vindicated in my struggles against those who would insidiously call Shotgun while still indoors. I also thank this site for clearing up the outside vs. line of sight requirement for a call, and I hope everyone who rides in a car with me will familiarize themselves with the rules beforehand.
Happy road tripping! Don’t be a gaper.
Maybe you don’t. I’ve been party to a Shotgun discrepancy or two over the years, and I have always stuck to my guns (if you’ll pardon the pun) on the rules. To make a blatant, gender-based generalization, it’s usually girls who try to call Shotgun indoors. Sometimes, they even try to argue about the rules. While I have clearly been in the right about this, the tricky part is that one could argue that Shotgun is played under different rules depending on the community, much like college basketball usually tries to enforce the game’s fundamental rules and concepts while the NBA generally spits on them. And it’s always been hard to argue against that concept.
But no more! The Internet has finally made itself useful and posted The Official Shotgun Rules. Read them. Know them. Live them. I feel vindicated in my struggles against those who would insidiously call Shotgun while still indoors. I also thank this site for clearing up the outside vs. line of sight requirement for a call, and I hope everyone who rides in a car with me will familiarize themselves with the rules beforehand.
Happy road tripping! Don’t be a gaper.
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