Caught in the act:

You know I have a tendency to post pictures when I don't have much to say. In fact, I have lots to say, with the state leg in session, hoping to legislate our collective morality, and the bloggy land and newspaper opinion pages afire with people making stupid comments and assumptions.

But I shall refrain.

Instead, this was us last night when we were caught watching Chuck in 3D:

There was an interesting conversation last week on Science Friday... talking about 3D technology. The conversation was about whether 3D would move to a more mainstream valid media entertainment method.

To which I responded, "********* I hope not." I was in my car at the time, so I was allowed to swear outloud.

It was a gimmick in the 50s, the 80s, and now it's the same.

I would throw up if I had to watch more than 40 minutes of anything in 3D. Still waiting for that first 3D porn movie though. On second thought... I'll pass on that one.... take an eye out... okay, on to other things...
Here's a picture I took from my computer's web cam the other day... what can i say - I was bored at the time:













Here's what the mountains look like when the smog is thick as mud in the valley below, where all of us normal folk live:

No, that's not me... some moron floated by just as I was taking the pic.






I think I should have a blog topic category that says, "Nothing at all. Nothing to see here, move along, back to your homes now..."

Kids: You can't take them anywhere

Over the Christmas break we planned to take everyone to see the BodyWorlds exhibit. I promised I wouldn't point at any "swimming suit places" and giggle like a little girl.

But I forgot to extract the same promise from the children.

I have a feeling this little picture is going to end up on somebody's Facebook page.

Things retailers don't like:

So, I'm standing in the Eddie Bauer store at a local mall over the weekend. I wanted a couple of new plain T-shirts, and I like the Eddie Bauer ones.

I walk in there, and their long sleeve ones are on the top shelf. No problem, thinks I.

So I reach up and grab the right size off the pile on the top shelf. That's when the fun started. As I pulled it off the pile, the corner of it grabbed the ALUMINUM signage, which was apparently just SITTING on the shelf. Without warning, down it came, and I swear, it tried to decapitate me. I was lucky to escape with a gusher across my already prominent brow.

In addition to the humiliation of a sign falling and hitting me, the SOUND that an aluminum sign makes on the floor apparently makes the employees believe I have tried to steal something. The moron attendant came trotting over TO MAKE SURE HIS SIGN WAS OKAY.

So what did he say to me, you ask? He said, "I need to go get my ladder..."

Are you kidding me? Did you SEE WHAT YOUR SIGN DID?

Apparently they don't like it when the signage gets moved. My bad.

On being a uni-brow

See those two hairs there? yeah - those two. They belong neither to the right nor the left. They are volunteers. No mater what I do - pluck, pull, shave, jab, tweeze, whatever... they just come back.








Stubborn little volunteers.


GAAAAHH!!!

I rest my case:

Follow up to a couple of comments....

Never been seen together, at least not as far as Google knows, but the resemblance is striking nonetheless.

Bringing Product to Market:

You know the Murphy's Law about how the Jelly side of the toast always lands on the floor. And you know the law about a cat always landing on its feet.

I'm working on a product I'm calling Cat-Toast. Maybe Feline Fried Bread? Tabby-Toast? Hairless Wonder Bread? Something like that.

We'll see how it goes.

On another note, in addition to the Boob Bowl, I like the wall-mounted Boob Bar as a conversation starter.












I think there is merit there, just trying to figure out what it is right now.

And on even ANOTHER note, I would like to relate to you an observation:

I was duped into going to Lagoon on July 4th. Being duped into going to Lagoon happens to me about every third or fourth year. I am not a fan of this place. But generally the kids like it, and I acquiesce every once in a while.

What can I say, sometimes I bend, people.

Anyway, I get within 500 yards of the gate, and I feel a strange sensation in my back pocket - an odd magnetic pull on my wallet. As I get closer, the feeling turns into a full-on vacuuming sound as the place sucks the money directly from my pants.

So, as I said, I had not been there in a few years, and every time I go there I swear I'll never set foot in the place again. I generally loathe the place.

So we go in and ride a couple of rides with the kids, and find a place to drop our stuff to wait for the fireworks, sending the kids off to be more daring than I was willing to be. By this time I have sustained a mild whiplash, the mechanical equivalent of a kidney punch, and a general loss of sensory function as a result of more-than-I-like centrifugal/G-forces. "I'm getting too old for this" was the direct quote from me to ThatOneWife. She concurred with my assessment. Oh, and I was also subjected to a hamburger that both looked and tasted like the underside of a manhole cover.

All of that I could live with. But here's the kicker. I'm a bit of a people watcher. A societal observer, if you will. And here are my findings: the place is filled with wife-beater wearing teenage thugs/gang-bangers-in-training, general trailer/white trash, fat mexican slobs/sluts masquerading as Puerto Rican Princesses to appeal to the above-mentioned thugs and bangers, Keystone Light drinking Nascar fans, and fat people in DIRE need of a shower, haircut, and/or some major personal maintenance. Many of these groups are NOT mutually exclusive either.


I'm just sayin'.

Conversations about things I don't like...

So, most who know me, know that I am not a big fan of the console game systems, or computer games in general. Keep that little tidbit in your mind as I relate the following conversation. This occurred, I believe, as we were either driving home from Mesquite (with me as a captive audience), or at some other time during the trip (with me as a captive audience).

Her: That Wii Fit thing looks pretty cool. I'm thinking about getting one.

Me: (with a look of incredulity) Are you kidding me? Seriously?

Her: Yeah, I think it looks good, and it has yoga, and monitoring, and calorie count, the whole thing.

Me: But it's a Nintendo GAME. You know how thrilled I am about Nintendo Games.

Her: (nonchalantly) Yeah, I know.

Me: ~some random mumbling about postliterate societies, etc.~

Her: Blank Stare (with overtones of YOU'RE A BIT OF A MORON RIGHT NOW.)

Me: (correctly interpreting said overtones) -insert cricket chirping sounds here- If you're going to do that, let's wait at least until the reviews are out, rather than just the marketing....

I thought this was brilliantly reasonable. Plus, I figured if I just ignored the conversation, it may never have actually happened. This worked for a short time.

Fast forward to Monday night when we went to pick up the kid who plays the violin. As she is getting to the car, mom says, YOU WANNA PUT THAT IN THE BACK WITH YOU, OR IN THE TRUNK? Before the sweet child could respond, I blurted, I SAY TRUNK - THAT VIOLIN CASE IS A LETHAL WEAPON IN HER HANDS, AND EVERYTHING WITHIN FOUR FEET OF IT GETS AUTOMATICALLY BEATEN TO DEATH.

And I make a move to open the trunk.

Then mom says - but now you'll see what I bought.

Yeah. You guessed it.

It's been out of the box, but not in my presence.

Now it's Thursday, and I saw this random bit of video on Teh YouToob today:



After watching this, I sent Her an email. It said: TAKE THAT THING BACK TO THE STORE. RIGHT. EFFING. NOW.

I sit there, wondering what name she'll call me, or how soon I'll be served with divorce papers.

A few moments later, I get her response back: I PROMISE I WON'T VIDEO YOU.

My response back to her: Well, I THOUGHT you were gonna say TOO LATE - I ALREADY SWEATED ON IT.

I guess we'll see how it goes from here. I love my wife dearly - and for a million reasons other than the one where she puts up with the thing that is me. So the machine will stay, we'll find a way to play Naked/Drunk Hula-Hoop, and all will be right with the world again. I'll just make sure all video recording devices are nowhere near the vicinity.

I've decided to start a new gang.

I've noticed an uptick recently. Yes, I have. I've noticed more punk-driven cars toting images on their back window - it seems there are more of those Air Jordan icons/logos around, along with more of the Nike logos as well.

It's not news that young thugs seem to identify with sports teams or specific players. You've seen the "Raiders" logos out there - along with the associated morons who stick them on their cars, wear the jackets, etc. Along with the Lakers, among several others as well.

My problem with these dorks is that they have probably never played competitive sports, unless you count the weekend break-and-enters, car burglaries, or home invasions. But they're all about the Jordans, or the Raiders, or the Lakers, or the Nuggets, or the Sixers... to which I say WHATEVER.

I've decided to start my own gang in response. But my logo won't be the Air Jordan icon, or the Nike Swoosh, or a team logo. No, it'll be a cartoonish picture of Charles Barkley, and my gang will be for all older men who once thought they were really good at sports, but now are fat, bald, and opinionated, use profane language, and play golf really poorly. That's my gang, and we're going to take back the streets. And this is how we're gong to play golf:

Don't understand all the hubub: Miley Cyrus

This Miley Cyrus thing has me confused as to what the big deal is. So I took a picture of my own, you know, for some perspective.


















Now I understand completely. Eeek.

And it seems I've let myself go just a little bit.

Thanks.

Obama and PA:

Trying to tell me something, perhaps?

One of our bunch just got back from a band trip to Disneyland yesterday, thus perpetuating for one more generation, the legend that begins, "Well, there was this one time at band camp..."

Anyway. I didn't ask her anything about the bus ride to and from because, frankly, I don't want to know - I'd be scared, then mad, I'm sure.

Upon her return, in what was apparently one piece, she hurriedly gave out the little gifts she had gotten for everyone else.

Mine was this:














It would seem I need to work on my attitude. Which I know.

What you CAN'T see is the fact that this mug holds about a half gallon of your chosen liquid.

How to confuse my taste buds:

BACON!!

No! Boobies!

No! Bacon!

Hey - wait a minute - what's going on here?!?

Not a moment wasted:

I ran out of the house this morning, forgetting to grab my most current editions of Dwell and Men's Journal. I tend to leave them at home for a few days, then bring them to work. There is a reason for this. It's very simple - 90% of the time, I tend to trundle off to the Board Room (and by board room, I mean the porcelain pony) at the office rather than at home, where I have my morning constitutional (and by constitutional, I mean my morning loaf-pinch). It's just the way it goes.

To avoid boredom while I await The Blessed Event, I take some reading material with me, because there are no pictures on the wall.

It's during this alone time that I find some interesting design-related items, some of which I will share with you now:

First up is the renewable floor made from, of all things, Peach pits:





You can find it here. Down side: you have to wait for the factory workers to eat enough peaches for your job, and then to get over the subsequent liquid runnies that will cause. Just kidding, I think.

Number next: did you know you can buy cool design items from The Museum of Modern Art? Check out this river stone bowl:


















It costs $155. Here is the description: A complement to the popular stone platter, this generously sized, food-safe serving bowl features hand-picked natural river stones suspended in clear resin, replicating their native underwater appearance. Hand-wash only; not for microwave.

I like that bowl. A lot. I would marry it. I would take it out behind the Junior High and get it pregnant. A little 30 Rock humor for you there. (Is it just me, or is that show HILARIOUS??)

Just sayin.

Coincidence? I think not.

At 5:30 this morning, I had this post all figured out. Now it seems a long way off in the distant foggy past.

Being Friday, it's a mish-mash of all things Random:

First off, today is Pi Day (π Day) . It's March 14th. Get it? 3/14 or 3.14.

Come on, you know you want to celebrate by doing some beer-pong partying with that guy right there.

It also happens to be Einstein's birthday. It appears he was more of an egotist than a scientist, and he came up with the whole π concept simply to commemorate his own birthday. Bastard. Bastard for making me learn all that Mathematical Constant crap in Junior High. Wanker. With bad hair.




On to the next random thought: Similar to my recent bender of "Phancy A Phyreplace", here is a cool range hood for you:










Buy It Here


Next thing that barely makes sense:
I was getting my hairs coiffed last night, and I often wonder why I go to a Salon, and have an Official Stylist do it. I mean really, I have so few hairs as it is... the cost per hair is HIGH.

Really. Take a look at my newly truncated locks:















Hardly seems worth it, does it? And yes, I have talented, independently controlled eyebrows. Call me The Rock - but not really. Be jealous anyway.

Anyway, part of my consternation is the 12 minute shampoo, condition, scalp massage, and ear-bleeding diatribe while under her immediate control. This diatribe typically exposes the painful yet simple fact that she is decidedly young and very naive. She has many of life's lessons yet to learn. Part of the subsequent conversation came around to her weakness, otherwise known as Teh Chocolate. Whatever. She then asked me what MY weakness was... I have to say I was a bit taken aback. I guess I don't think of things in that way, but after a moment, I answered that it was probably fast food. She looked perplexed. "As in, hamburgers," I explained. Then she got this look on her face, sheer terror, and said, "Oh my heck, you don't eat The Baconater, do you?" I said no - "more like the Jr Cheeseburger Deluxe. That's about my max." She said that wasn't much of a weakness. But it is. I LIKEY THEM.

Speaking of which - my kids will tell you that there are NO hamburgers better than the ones I make myself for them. One of them says I should open a burger joint.

Which brings up the next item. Remember that thing I called a diet? Yeah, that one. Here is an update. I wrote that I had lost 20 pounds by the middle of November. Well, with the holidays dropped in there, etc, I've only lost another five pounds, bringing me to a total of 25 pounds dumped since September. I am totally embarrassed to note that I started the diet weighing (ahem) 246.8. Not cool, is what that translates to. Pudgy, in fact. Thick.

Anyway, I feel like I am plateaued at just barely over 220. I am motivated to break below that 220 mark. It's been a VERY long time since I've seen the scale numbers began with a 21. I hope to do that this next week. In order for that to happen, the gym is going to be the answer. Now that it's light later in the day, I feel like spring is on its way, even if it is STILL snowing buckets in the mountains around here, and that motivates me to get back to the gym and do some real work. And maybe a couple less d'ambeurgeurs....

Rest assured, you'll know about it when I go below the 220 number. Next week.

Doing my part to promote workplace confusion:

That is all.

Bumper Riding:

When I was about 6-7 years old, our dad drove a red VW bug. I remember in the winter time he would take us out and do donuts in cul de sacs.... One time, and this was apparently super-common, a few kids ran out into the road, grabbed onto the back bumper, and rode along as if being dragged by a water-ski boat, as long as they possibly cold. My dad would swerve around trying to dump them off, which was all the more fun for the riders. Fun times. Lots of cold-packed snow.

But then, we also played hockey in the streets too.

I saw this painting last week, and was reminded of that all over again.

Thinking about an Eyeball Tattoo:

Since I can't even stand the thought of a contact lens in my eye, I guess I'm not a candidate.

No time to write - therefore, you get this:

Note to SarahBellum:

You hearin' me Bellum, loud and clear??

:)

Goes for the gender thing too... and one-eyes versus two-eyes....

Some Friday randomness: Ever had one of those days?

Have you ever had one of these days:

When you get dressed, you know your stuff doesn't match, and YOU JUST DON'T CARE??

This morning I was standing in the closet, looking through the clothes, deciding what to wear, when I just said, screw it, and grabbed whatever there was hanging there in front of me... here is what came out:

Gray T-shirt with a white silhouette of Barack Obama on it, a medium brown pair of pinestripe texture khakis and to top it off, my Chuck Taylors, which, in medium light, look gray, but in the sunlight, look like a drab olive green. And I just didn't care. I believe I saw ThatOneWife look at me out of the corner of her eye, as if to say, "Dude, WTF??"

I'm usually a well dressed individual, which you know if you remember my RANT about people showing up to nice restaurants in crappy jeans and a T-Shirt. I take pride in what I wear - most days, but every once in a while - I just couldn't care less, and I end up wearing something that looks totally stupid. That "I don't care" attitude often wears off by about 10 AM, and I feel like a moron for the rest of the day. We'll see if that happens today, or if my apathy continues on through the entire day. Note to self: Gray/Brown/Dark Olive = NOTAMATCH.

That person up there, by the way, is not me - it's just a random picture of a dude apparently named Robin, that I stole from Teh Innernets.

However, that Brings Me Round Again To Find, I'm Not The Man They Think I Am At Home.... oops, sorry, random Elton John Lyric crept in there...

What it "Brings Me Round Again" to, is ROBIN, or more correctly, ROBYN.

A few weeks ago we had the kids out skiing and while we were standing in the lift line, there was a "slightly" heavy female in line in front of us who was wearing those stretchy ski pants, as opposed to the bulky kind of ski pants. The kids got a kick out of this, and I proceeded to tell them the story of Robyn. Robyn was my secret 10th grade Total Crush. She was all sorts of hot, and was a very accomplished skier who skied on the school ski team. She had long brown hair, and fiery blue-gray eyes and a dark complexion. And she wore THOSE ski pants. Needless to say, I joined the ski team. For one reason and one reason only. So I could drool all over myself on a regular basis, with an excuse this time.

She won every race she entered and I was right there at the bottom, watching her and waiting for her to cross the finish line.

Those, people, were the days.