Welcome to 2007, Alex

The dubious benefits of enduring a nasty case of food poisoning hours before entertaining 50 guests at your house for a New Year’s Eve party

  1. You gain a new and unabashed appreciation for washed vegetables from clean restaurants, and towel racks that break away from the walls of your bathroom as you tumble toward the toilet.
  2. You learn that watching an uncut TV airing of The Exorcist is not a good way to stem an unrelenting tide of nausea.
  3. You are luckily able to find great friends that help you recover and ready your house for the party, despite your various ineptitudes.
  4. You find more great friends at your party whose honesty forces them to admit that, “you look a little rough tonight.”
  5. After 36 hours of ingesting only Gatorade and soda water, cocktails are resoundingly successful intoxicants.

Tryptophanboy

Definition

Noun. A portmanteau of tryptophan and fanboy.
Alternative spellings: tryptophanboi, tryptofanboy, tryptofanboi

One who is obsessed with tryptophan, especially when consumed via turkey dinner on Thanksgiving. Despite use of the pseudo-suffix “-boy” a tryptophanboy can be male or female. (See also tryptophangirl.) A tryptophanboy is particularly fond of turkey’s alleged sleep-inducing effects, and is commonly quite geeky.

Conventional Usage

“Baste me with gravy because I’m a tryptophanboy.”

l33t Usage

“OMG pwned. LOL ur asleep after 3 h3lpings. tryptophanboy.”

Dear Steve, iPods Need Wifi.

Dear Steve,

Today I read your Q & A with Newsweek posted on MSNBC. Though it was brief, I very much enjoyed it.

When you were asked about Microsoft’s Zune however, your response didn’t quite sit right with me, even as an avid OSX and iPod fan.

Microsoft has announced its new iPod competitor, Zune. It says that this device is all about building communities. Are you worried?

In a word, no. I’ve seen the demonstrations on the Internet about how you can find another person using a Zune and give them a song they can play three times. It takes forever. By the time you’ve gone through all that, the girl’s got up and left! You’re much better off to take one of your earbuds out and put it in her ear. Then you’re connected with about two feet of headphone cable.

I agree that the first generation versions of the Zune aren’t a threat to the iPod. The iPod and the iTunes Store are great experiences—they are market leaders for a reason—top to bottom sensational lifestyle media products. However, when (note I do not use the word “if”) wireless purchasing is enabled on the Zune, and there are a decent amount of them floating around (C. 2008), the 3×3 try n’ buy scheme will be an appealing feature. (Despite being nastily DRM-laden, which as you know is currently the sad reality we all live in.)

I appreciate that adding wireless purchasing capabilities to the iPod could negatively impact the UI experience. Save the heavy lifting for iTunes, don’t rob Peter to pay Paul, Peter Paul & Mary are still .99c per track on the iTunes Store. Gotcha.

But iPods need WiFi too. You might as well come out and say:

We can’t currently make a larger iPod screen and offer seamless wireless features without disastrously compromising battery life in our current form factor.

Now I know you’d never say that, and I know that battery life and technology is really what’s holding you back, but as an iPod/OSX user I hate to hear you say that headphones are the only good way to connect people around music.

And perhaps being a billionaire allows one a slightly more flexible window of what is deemed socially acceptable today, but I’m pretty sure if I walked up to a strange woman in a coffee shop and asked her, “hey, can I put this in your ear?”

That the answer would be NO.

Qwest Field Speakers Allow Narrow Seahawk Victory

It’s a good thing NFL officials were on hand yesterday to monitor the scandal that is the cheating speakers of Qwest Field and the amplified Seattle Seahawk fans.

Because wow, did those speakers ever work. Logically you’d need speakers to amplify 68,121 fans in a concrete structure, and speakers are known to cause multiple first-quarter interceptions, and 35-3 first half thrashings. Clearly investigation was warranted.

If I were a Giants fan I’d be livid, obviously the speakers are the only thing to blame in a game that saw the largest first half thumping in the Giants 82 year history. But instead, I’m a Seahawks fan and I was sitting in the stadium laughing myself to tears. After last year’s win against the Giants in overtime I knew we, as loud fans, were cheaters—but I had no idea we were just that good at cheating.

I found out later that Howie Long opined at halftime, “Seattle is still not running the ball effectively“. Moron. But that coming during a nationwide broadcast of a Seattle team, historically speaking, the comment is quite high praise so I really shouldn’t complain.

After soaking up that nugget of “praise,” this morning I scanned more articles to find further evidence of Seattle’s, cheatin’, cheatin’, 3-0 start. Oddly, there were a few accounts of New York’s drubbing that didn’t place blame squarely on the shoulders of the Qwest Field PA system. One of the most concise was Jeremy Shockey’s:

“Yeah, we got outplayed,” he said. “No 12th man, no (bleeping) excuses. We lost the game, that’s basically it.”

Strange. I wonder what he was talking about?

Rare Washington High Mountain Llama

Llama

On Saturday Laura and I hiked along a bit of the PCT toward Sourdough Gap, stopping by Sheep Lake to soak up the scenery.

As we approached, I said, “Look, there are a few elk on the far side of the….lake…” I trailed off…confused by the bizarrely malshapen “elk” tethered to the meadow.

Sadly, this llama isn’t a free-ranger, but a beast of burden. Apparently pack horses or mules are far too unoriginal for the Pacific Northwest, so long live the Washington high mountain llama?

It Was A Wonderful Headbutt Zinedine

It was a wonderful headbutt Zinedine, never forget that.

You may be ridiculed, heckled, and be forced to endure the legacy of a fabulous career tarnished. However, your country still adores you, and as your president proclaims, you are always a virtuoso, a genius of world football.

The Headbutt Heard Round the World

Zidane, you have performed the headbutt of headbutts. Your headbutt is now the most important thing that happened in World Cup 2006, which is likely the most watched sporting event ever. Make no occipital bones about it, yours is the most famous headbutt in history. Zinedine, you now own the headbutt.

People have headbutted before, but now everyone after you is simply dishing out another Zindane. What an attack of most visceral and primitive rage it was! You have transcended football in your final performance into a league few mortals rarely venture. A human movement…your existence now embodies.

You’ve already won a World Cup, now you own the entire genre that is human head thrusting. If I was given the choice between winning 2 World Cups, and 1 World Cup + owning all that is Human Head Thrusting I’d totally take the 1WC + HHTing.

No contest, Zidane, good call.

What About the Children?

Many an outcry has been had for the kiddies. Millions of children watched the World Cup Final. Who will they emulate, what will they do on the field? Is this the beginning of the end of civil football—the kind we’ve enjoyed to date with no flops, fouls or cards?

I am worried about the children, but not for the reasons of most. When I was a lad playing soccer I was headbutted 10, maybe 11 times per day. Now after Zidane’s little head-capade should we be worried that those numbers might climb to 12 or 13 times per match? NO.

Children’s heads are squishy. This has been proven in the medical literature; if there is a problem with a mal-shapen head on the pitch it can be easily un-Zidaned back into a pleasing spheroid.

However, what does worry me is that these children have now witnessed the headbutt of headbutts. Where do they go from there? How can they possibly strive for new levels of achievement?

Answer: They can’t. They have already witnessed mastery of the domed-attack, and the only the only route from there is down. Sorry kids.

When Zinedine Shaves: A Weapon, Honed

You have a great spine Zidane, one not challenged by spindly 6′4″ defenders. Your neck thrusts can hold back the throngs of fans for years to come, you will be fine. Remember to hold your head high Zinedine! For no reason other than nobody on earth will ever get near you when you do.

UPDATE

For those desiring more than my unwitty banter, see Anil Dash’s Zidane Animation Festival.

Superfluous Posting of Reviews Cinematica (SPORC), Episode I

It’s not a spoon and not a fork, but instead an abbreviated list of the movies I haven’t had time to fully review in the past few months.

Yes, this is an unrequested mountain of content and the term SPORC sounds a bit like SPAM. This is not accidental, but these snippets are hopefully slightly more utilitarian than your unwanted email. After all a spork is indeed a utensil—just a stupendously annoying one. I’ve learned movie reviews can be somewhat similar, useful to most but annoying to nearly all for one reason or another.

But fearless, I press on. In-depth movie reviews are one of my most frequently requested features, so what could be better than ditching the “in-depth” part and substituting a one-line snarky observation? Quantity over quality? (Like SPAM, the email or the meat) Oh yes, I’ve got that now. A poor combination of multiple specializations—critique and recommendation? (Like a SPORK) Got that now too.

In a perfect world I’d have heaps of time to wax philosophic on all of these movies, but instead I leave you weeping over your bowl of processed meat, punching your keyboard with your spoon/fork hybrid in order to check your unrequested email—all the time wondering what I would have to say about these movies if I had the time to write a complete review. (Well, a guy can dream.)

You may have questions. Why could I possibly find it productive to explain movie reviews with spam and sporks? Why would I endorse a film review system kindred to a cruel spoon/fork offspring?

The mule of tableware.

What does that even mean?

Some questions may never be answered, so for today please enjoy: SPORC Episode I

8.3 – Me and You and Everyone We Know
Funny, uncomfortably honest. Highly recommended
8.1 – Crash
Surprisingly great, given high levels of Ludacris, Matt Dillon, Los Angeles
8.0 – Doctor Zhivago
An epic, and not just in duration. Has Alec Guinness (which equals radness)
7.5 – Treasure of the Sierra Madre
On Bogey and badges
7.4 – On the Waterfront
This movie could’ve been is a contender
7.1 – Hustle and Flow
Whoop. That. Trick.
6.8 – Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire
Imagine Harry Potter, but with more sexual tension than the last season of Days of Our Lives
6.5 – Walk the Line
No men shot in Reno, but still good
6.0 – War Photographer
Includes scenes shot with a video camera mounted on still camera (which equals radness)
5.9 – The School of Rock
A level at which there is “too much Jack Black” has been identified
5.0 – The Exorcism of Emily Rose
Skip Emily and exercise my boredom. I beg of you. Exercise my boredom
4.8 – Dogtown and Z-Boys
Remember when you were rad? Yeah well these guys DO
3.8 – The Island
I’m a sucker for sci-fi. This movie proves it
2.9 – The Village
A level at which there is “too much Shyamalan” has been identified (does not equal radness)

Eastern Washington Continually Proves Itself World Class Nexus of Oddness and Conspiracy Theory

Today a BoingBoing post led me to an additional report that claims there is an NSA spying facility just outside of Yakima.

I had been wondering what all those big radio dishes were over the past few years- clearly visible when passing by on the freeway. I had always assumed that they were some part of the adjacent Yakima Training Center, which surprisingly none of these articles mention. (I’ve heard locals call this “Iraqima” – a play on Iraq and Yakima – for its reputation as an arid training ground similar to some Middle Eastern terrain.) When you add in the convoys of Humvees and other vehicles that make their way slowly along the freeway to and from the training grounds it certainly completes the picture. Is this “training ground” manned to protect the listening post? Queue spectral whistling sound effects.

Oh how I love a grand conspiracy theory! Apparently we can’t just point the finger at the military and the NSA, but Microsoft and Yahoo, and their spectacular data n’ potatoes fetish. (Potatoes are close by for sure, but any local will make it quickly clear that the region is much better known for its apples and wine grapes than starchy tubers.) But who could forget the not too distant new Google datacenter being put in the Dalles? Surely Google here lays aside its don’t be evil mantra to fall in league with all the aforementioned denizens of information gathering? The conspiratorial mind roils contemplating the potential.

And tell me, TELL ME! Why are all of these things so close to Mel’s Hole? (Google search: Mel’s Hole) The Manashtash Ridge wonder of the late-night AM circuit for years…a hole whose depth and breadth born from ancient volcanic (save extra-terrestrial) feats of wonder is rumored to be big enough for data stores the world has never seen!

Microsoft, Yahoo, Google, the military, NSA, all caching data and potatoes in a bottomless pit. We’re screwed.

Additional Resources Of Irrefutable Veracity

Stratagem: Megatarts

Six palindromes from this list I plan on dropping into conversation in the next month:

  1. A man, a plan, a canal, Panama.
  2. Star comedy by Democrats.
  3. Tons o’ snot.
  4. Evil olive.
  5. Stratagem: megatarts.
  6. Step on no pets.

Brief Adventures with a Western Black-Legged Tick

A Western Black-Legged Tick, next to a U.S. dime for scale

(Tha’ts a dime in the photo—you’d better watch yourself up there FDR or you’ll be next.)

Yesterday morning I glanced in the mirror before hopping in the shower and spotted what I thought was a dark scab in the middle of my back. Pre-shower and pre-coffee I don’t have much mental alacrity—so instead instincts took over—I ripped it off.

At the instant my hand made contact with this little black thing on my back three things became clear:

  1. It wasn’t a scab. There was no reason for me to have a scab there. It was something—attached
  2. I had better rip it off and be damn quick about it
  3. I’ll probably need to take pictures of it—whatever it is

Being amidst my usual morning cognitive impairment I had no thought that my unwelcome accouterment might be a tick—I probably would not have been quite so hasty in my “decision making” if I had been a little more awake—regardless I soon heard a noticeable, nay shockingly audible, POP sound as the tick was dislodged from my skin.

I watched it wiggle for a bit on my bathroom counter, and popped it in a glass for later photographic documentation.

Apologies to Eddie Money: I’ve Got One Tick—It’s From Paradise

Rarely have I had such an experience that was both completely revolting and completely fascinating. In the shower I began to ponder the hike were I must have picked up the little sucker, and how I was trouncing around the forest craning for a decent shot at a waterfall. (I had clearly earned this wee vampiristic beastie.)

Further into my lather, I began to put the whole weekend in perspective and think of one of my earlier hikes in Mt. Rainier National Park. Paradise, although inaccessible this time of the year is one of the Park’s most popular destinations…how the mind wanders. Then it hit me. I had the makings for a fabulous Eddie Money rip-off right there in the shower:

I’ve Got One Tick It’s From Paradise

Got a surprise especially for you,
Something that both of us have always wanted to do.
We’ve waited so long, waited so long.
We’ve waited so long, waited so long.

I’m gonna take you on a trip so far from here,
I’ve got one tick in my pocket, now baby, we’re gonna disappear.
We’ve waited so long, waited so long.
We’ve waited so long, waited so long.

I’ve got one tick it’s from Paradise,
Won’t you pack your bags, we’ll leave tonight,
I’ve got one tick it’s from Paradise,
I’ve got one tick it’s from Paradise.

oh-oh-uh-oh-uh-oh-uh-oh-uh-oh-uh-oh
oh-oh-uh-oh-uh-oh-uh-oh-uh-oh-uh-oh

So the tick wasn’t exactly from Paradise, but that’s just details man, this is music.

The Tick in Black Starring in: Walk The Lyme

When I think ticks I think Lyme disease, but not to worry, I’m watching my very small wound shrink by the hour, and I have heard from several credible sources that Lyme disease is fairly uncommon in the Pacific Northwest.

So there you have it, my brief encounter with a tick, and Eddie Money to boot—what more could you ask for dear reader?

Viaduct Tape

BetterDonkey.org's Viaduct Tape

BetterDonkey’s got a new video called Viaduct Tape. A hilarious “no on I-912” piece.

  • 8MB — (.MP4 Quicktime)
  • 6.8MB — (.WMV Windows)

Nice work everyone.

I Know Hell, Medford Airport Be Thy Name

Yesterday Horizon Air flight 2425 was delayed nearly 9 hours. Far too many of these hours my sister and I laid trapped in the Medford airport pinned between the incessant southern Oregon heat and an unshakable Seattle fog. (This, shockingly, is not a nice place to be after a fun extended weekend cavorting with friends and family at your cousin’s wedding.)

Previously my life’s experiences have taught me two facts about my own personal hell. The first being that it is lined nearly exclusively with Astroturf, and not the cool new Nike stuff made with recycled tires and long dexterous fibers, but the nasty stuff that shreds exposed skin like cheese in a rusted grater. The second fact is that cantaloupe flourishes on this Astroturf.

Finally now I can definitively add the first built structure to my personal hell’s plain of turf and muskmelon: the Rogue Valley International Medford Airport.

With the weather not cooperating and Horizon flights fully booked and delayed system-wide, Kelly and I opted to fly to Portland and rent a car to Seattle, beating our would-be flight by a good margin and saving us a few precious hours of Medford-time. No refund on the ticket or the rental car, but considering the circumstances I think we made a very good choice.

Deep Impact—NASA Marches On With Remake of 1998 Elijah Wood Smash Hit

Although unfortunately this time Elijah Wood couldn’t get a starring role, which reportedly could have potentially smashed him to bits on a distant frozen mudball. No, the saving grace of this go-around instead is that the new Deep Impact team has been infused with the same utterly horrific oratorical abilities that caused viewers of the origianl Deep Impact to deeply impact their their faces in plaster walls.  (From Reuters)

What you see is something really surprising. First, there is a small flash, then there’s a delay, then there’s a big flash and the whole thing breaks loose. We may have been able to detect some structural response to the impact

How much do you get paid to spout this tripe? Allow me to translate this 4th grade paragraph into 2nd grade drivel: It…Went…Boom.

We are waiting for the outgassing to stop. It’s clear it’s was still coming out for several hours … and could go on for weeks

(Went boom.)

We know that we created quite a crater. We believe it penetrated quite deeply so we know we’ll get a good look at the interior

(Kind-of gross boom.)

The Hits Keep On Coming

Of course spiffy dialogue isn’t the only parallel between 1998’s Deep Impact and today’s. From an IMDB plot summary:

the President announces that special caves will have to be built, and the government will have to have a lottery-of-fate to randomly select 800,000 ordinary American citizens to go along with 200,000 scientists, soldiers, and other officials. These 1,000,000 people will be set aside to save the population from extinction when the comet hits.

This time around President Bush has announced his “lottery-of-fate” will be decided behind closed doors with paperless proprietary voting machines. It will randomly select 800,000 old white evangelical Republicans for saving, along with 200,000 Halliburton management personnel. Scientists this time will not be saved, but instead burn in hell for tempting God’s wrath.

So while NASA performs miracles with a dwindling budget, as far as I can tell we’re still stuck here to die with Elijah Wood (who, like us, is neither Halliburton management nor old white Republican).

Sequels usually suck—but on this occaision many congratulations to NASA and the entire Deep Impact team.

Resources

Lifetime Original Movies- The Missing Subtitles

I got a great email from Grant today pointing me toward the complete list of Lifetime Original Movie titles.

Needless to say in seconds I was completely in tears laughing hysterically. I quickly decided I couldn’t stop there- I had to share the movie titles and add a little twist to them, so the following list is comprised of a small sample of GENUINE Lifetime movies followed by my “inspired” subtitles. Enjoy.

  • A Prayer in the Dark
    Please God Give Me A Candle
  • A Killing Spring
    The Metal Coil From Satan
  • Almost Golden
    My Addiction to Spray-on Tanning
  • 83 Hours ‘Til Dawn
    And Other Really Damn Long Days
  • A Colder Kind of Death
    Fun With The Morgue’s Thermostat
  • A Family Torn Apart
    By A Huge Fucking Monster
  • A Marriage of Convenience
    Is Better Than One Of Necessity
  • A Message From Holly
    I’m Not Just For Wreaths At Christmas Anymore
  • A Nightmare Come True
    Gasp! And A Dream Came False!
  • A Season in Purgatory
    (Year’s Wrap-Up Of Lifetime Movies)
  • A Stoning in Fulham County
    They Grow Really Good Stuff There Man
  • A Time to Heal
    Brought To You By Antibacterial Neosporin
  • A Town Without Christmas
    Those Pagan Bastards Will Burn
  • A Very Cool Christmas
    Snow N’ Shit Dog
  • A Will of Their Own
    They’ll Need it Cuz They’re Gonna DIE
  • Abducted: A Father’s Love
    …Of Alien Spacecraft And Culture
  • After Jimmy
    …Came Ron Reagan. Episode II of Politics For Shut-ins
  • All-American Girl: The Mary Kay LeTourneau Story
    Because ‘All-American’ Is The New Term For Child Molester
  • All the Winters That Have Been
    …Cold I Licked Flagpoles When Asked To
  • An Unexpected Family
    An Unexpected Love
  • An Unexpected Love
    An Unexpected Family
  • An Unfinished Affair
    Being Walked-In On Sucks Bigtime
  • Angela’s Ashes
    Are Blackish But Mostly Gray
  • Another Woman’s Husband
    Is Not My Husband’s Wife
  • A Date With Darkness
    I Believe In A Thing Called Love
  • Any Mother’s Son
    Is Better Than Mine
  • Appointment for a Killing
    10:30am. Sharp.
  • Are You Lonesome Tonight
    Call 1-900-BIG-LOSR, First Call Only $5
  • Armed and Innocent
    Part II: Feeted and Guilty as Hell
  • Artificial Lies
    Not Completely Unlike Normal Lies
  • At the Mercy of a Stranger
    Yes, We’re Trying to Scare The Crap Out Of You, So Buckle Up

The worst part is that is only a piece of the letter “A” page. Dig deeper to find gems like, “BABY MONITOR: SOUND OF FEAR.” No subtitle necessary, I couldn’t make that up if I tried.

Seattle’s Capitol Hill: A Demographic Overview

I’ve lived on Seattle’s Capitol Hill for about a year now, and I’m an incorrigible people-watcher. Thus I’ve learned that with few exceptions the day-to-day residents of Capitol Hill fit into one of three categories, all of which I’ve made sure end with “-ster” for that extra degree of scientificality.

Hipsters, Scenesters

Latin: hippius more-n-you-us

Mostly comprised of kids who want to be cool, homos who actually are cool, and musicians who suck. Find these in seedy bars, on street corners, “edgy” coffee joints, and any place you won’t get stared at for having a purple mohawk and a silver dollar stuck in your earlobe. They ignore the world with the aid of their iPod, but continually scan the room to make sure they’re still cool.

Bumsters

Latin: shakus cup-o-changeus

Look for these outside Dick’s or anywhere else you can find money, food, or liquor. Don’t call me callous because I have bought three copies of “Real Change” before in a single day. But I do get a bit tired of seeing that “methy-twitch” and those guys with the “NEED BEER” signs- who are they kidding? That’s about as heart-warming as a troop of 2nd graders riddled with pinkeye.

Dirtsters

Latin: disappointus-parentus

The group I call dirtsters others refer to as “troubled tweens,” “disaffected youth” or other such total crap. They’re dirty, gothed-out, and hate themselves because they don’t hate themselves as much as their friends do. They despise their allowance but it pays for their ripped jeans, makeup, and gateway drugs. Their parents are crying in Bellevue… right…NOW.

So that’s about it, the others on Capitol Hill while strongly in the minority are much more widely varied (thankfully) and resist classification. Have a good stroll on Broadway and be sure to comment if I’ve left anything out.