I've been a little loathe to blog lately because I have been ridiculously ragged out from my work. Now, this has nothing to do with my Government Overlords, my young coworkers, or even the folks I see everyday.
No, my stress has been courtesy of my erstwhile employer, TeleCommunications Systems. I have worked for them for 2 and a 1/2 years, and they recently lost the contract for the agency I've been assigned to. The agency wanted to clear up their contracts, and TCS was trying to become a sub-contractor. That didn't go through, and TCS lost the deal. The company said they'd try to retain us, move us to other jobs. "We're family" is how our TCS program manager put it. Or, TCS would try to be a sub-sub-contractor.
Can't say I blame them; there's four employees that were up for play, and the Government indicated that they'd like to retain the staff, even though the contract was up for bid.
Still. We're family. Family doesn't let family members dangle in the nether region between "employed" and "unemployed."
TCS, even though they KNEW they lost the bid, lorded the non-compete clause we all signed over us like a pinata. We couldn't sign with the new company without facing a lawsuit; TCS said they'd try to find us new positions within TCS, but we all knew they had no roles for us. This was the story on Wednesday. "So...here's two weeks of money and hit the road."
Thursday, TCS changed their tune. We'd be let out of our non-competes, and were free to interview with the new contractor.
Friday, TCS laid us off without even learning if we'd signed with the new contractor.
That's a nice family you got there.
Fortunately the new contractor hired those of us on the crew who'd been there for more than a couple of months. I live to see another paycheck.
So, a drop of spilled beer to Clint, the new guy who wasn't picked up by the new contractor...for now.
And, a drop of spilled blood to TCS, who made our last couple of weeks of employment as stressful as possible.
Also, as how all companies have their own lingo, I know there's no way I'll pick up TCS' phrase. Broadstreet gave me "dawg." netINS gave me "my bad." Chili's gave me "buffalo wings." TCS employees use the term "net net" a lot. In a sentence, they say "Look, the net net is that we need to improve our stock options."
Net net.
Kinda redundant, you know?
Welcome to TCS' CorporateSpeak.
So, two and a half years have been wiped clean. I'm waving good bye to nearly 100 hours of vacation time. Two and a half years of stock options, benefits...all gone.
My "family" is kinda dysfunctional, huh?
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
My mother, the Phoenician
The Official Five Paragraph Bitter Mom is moving to Phoenix, Arizona, next week. She just signed a 13-month lease for a two bedroom condo in Ahwatukee, which is apparently a very nice part of town.
It's weird - a woman who, until two weeks ago, had never been west of Columbus, Ohio, is now turning into an Arizonian...Arizonite? Arizonan? Arizonian-American? *shrug*
This should be a good move for her. The people at her new job seem nice, and there's certainly plenty of stuff to do. I'm sure she'll meet lots of active Baby Boomers, many of whom refuse to accept that they're aging themselves.
I think I see why Mom moved there.
View Larger Map
They named a road after her son. How thoughtful!
Oh...wait. There's an IKEA about 4000 feet away. Mom does love the hell out some easy-to-assemble Swedish furniture.
It's weird - a woman who, until two weeks ago, had never been west of Columbus, Ohio, is now turning into an Arizonian...Arizonite? Arizonan? Arizonian-American? *shrug*
This should be a good move for her. The people at her new job seem nice, and there's certainly plenty of stuff to do. I'm sure she'll meet lots of active Baby Boomers, many of whom refuse to accept that they're aging themselves.
I think I see why Mom moved there.
View Larger Map
They named a road after her son. How thoughtful!
Oh...wait. There's an IKEA about 4000 feet away. Mom does love the hell out some easy-to-assemble Swedish furniture.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
My state is richer than yours!
The Baltimore Sun reported it a couple of weeks ago, and I meant to write something bitter, sarcastic and snobby about it, but I was too busy rolling in greenbacks to do it.
Sunday, September 02, 2007
Getting harder to be an O's fan...
...no-hit last night by Clay Buchholz, in his second major league start.
One more week until the Ravens' season begins. It's only a week. I can wait that long, right?
Right?
Thursday, August 30, 2007
I scarred Chatwoman.
From Liz Kelly's chat on the Washingtonpost.com site...L
To the woman shopping with her boyfriend...: I used to bike 300 plus miles a week in my teenage years and 20s, and now, at 34, still look like I'm trying to shoplift a couple of flank steaks in my thighs if I wear normal flat-front pants.
However, I've found that Dockers, of all brands, makes a slightly-baggier, looser fit pair of slacks that doesn't look too bad. Also, Express for Men, if he's got a waist size of 36 or smaller, has some flat-front pants that don't look too bad.
Liz Kelly: Thanks for the help (and for the mental image of someone walking around with flank steaks strapped to one's thighs).
To the woman shopping with her boyfriend...: I used to bike 300 plus miles a week in my teenage years and 20s, and now, at 34, still look like I'm trying to shoplift a couple of flank steaks in my thighs if I wear normal flat-front pants.
However, I've found that Dockers, of all brands, makes a slightly-baggier, looser fit pair of slacks that doesn't look too bad. Also, Express for Men, if he's got a waist size of 36 or smaller, has some flat-front pants that don't look too bad.
Liz Kelly: Thanks for the help (and for the mental image of someone walking around with flank steaks strapped to one's thighs).
Instant Karma is Everywhere
Instant Karma, my favorite type, is popping up like Starbucks' in the late-1990s. You can't swing a dead cat without hitting instant karma.
For that, I thank Earl.
Instant Karma is a wonderful thing. Who doesn't love a quick pay-off? Let somebody merge in traffic, and somebody lets you change lanes without tailgating or blaring their horn. Help somebody pick up the contents of their accidentally-spilt briefcase and somebody holds the elevator door for you. Good ultimately begats good.
Instant Karma can also be a glorious mix of irony, schadenfreude and spite. Last night I saw a great instance of Instant Karma. While driving on MD 295, an unmarked police officer pulled out from the median strip and started heading down the road. The officer wasn't pulling anybody over; he was simply driving in the same direction as me.
Twenty seconds later, a late-90s Pontiac Grand Am was weaving in-and-out of traffic behind me, tailgating and making ridiculously unsafe lane changes. He got on my tail, and was so close to me that I couldn't even see his headlamps. I wasn't going fast enough for him, so he swung around, passed me and then got back over in my lane, coming scant inches away from my front bumper.
I watched him pull similar manuevers around the drivers in front of me for twenty seconds when he pulled something like that around the unmarked police officer. The Grand Am whipped around him, cut him off, and sped off similar to what he did to me and countless others. The police officer tracked him for a couple of seconds, watched him pull yet-another dangerous lane change, and decided he'd seen enough.
About 90 seconds after the Pontiac almost ran me off the road, he was getting pulled over. How many times have you seen some joker drive like a friggin' maniac, and said "where's the cops when I need them?" Well, evidently, the answer last night was "here."
Good job to the police officer who found this bozo.
Want more Instant Karma? Look at our friend Senator Larry Craig and his recent issues with lookin' for love in all the wrong places.
We've all heard now about his attempted homosexual daliance in a Minneapolis/St. Paul Airport. We've also heard about his staunch anti-gay stance and continued opposition to gay rights.
Methinks the Queen doth protest too much.
The irony is delicious. The karma was instant.
However...I will defend Senator Craig a smidge.
While the whole concept of sex in a public bathroom baffles me (not to mention the obvious logistical and hygenic difficulties), if the toe-tapping, peeking through the stall and roller-bag placement are all widely-accepted signals for gay men to initiate a sexual encounter, then what did Senator Craig do wrong that hundreds of thousands of people do every night in bars, clubs and parties? He made a pass at somebody.
I've made passes at some women and failed. Women and some men have made passes at me, and have failed. Do any of us deserve jail time?
That's like being pulled over for doing 55 in a 55 zone because you *MIGHT* speed.
He didn't have sex with the police officer in public. He may have wanted to, or maybe he would have offered a romp at an airport hotel. The Senator flirted with somebody at an ersatz pick-up joint. His basic act was no different than a guy buying a drink for a girl at a bar and using a cheesy pick-up line.
If the Senator was engaged in public sex and the police found him, then that would indeed be an offense. But has just the *intention* of even wanting sex become a crime?
For that, I thank Earl.
Instant Karma is a wonderful thing. Who doesn't love a quick pay-off? Let somebody merge in traffic, and somebody lets you change lanes without tailgating or blaring their horn. Help somebody pick up the contents of their accidentally-spilt briefcase and somebody holds the elevator door for you. Good ultimately begats good.
Instant Karma can also be a glorious mix of irony, schadenfreude and spite. Last night I saw a great instance of Instant Karma. While driving on MD 295, an unmarked police officer pulled out from the median strip and started heading down the road. The officer wasn't pulling anybody over; he was simply driving in the same direction as me.
Twenty seconds later, a late-90s Pontiac Grand Am was weaving in-and-out of traffic behind me, tailgating and making ridiculously unsafe lane changes. He got on my tail, and was so close to me that I couldn't even see his headlamps. I wasn't going fast enough for him, so he swung around, passed me and then got back over in my lane, coming scant inches away from my front bumper.
I watched him pull similar manuevers around the drivers in front of me for twenty seconds when he pulled something like that around the unmarked police officer. The Grand Am whipped around him, cut him off, and sped off similar to what he did to me and countless others. The police officer tracked him for a couple of seconds, watched him pull yet-another dangerous lane change, and decided he'd seen enough.
About 90 seconds after the Pontiac almost ran me off the road, he was getting pulled over. How many times have you seen some joker drive like a friggin' maniac, and said "where's the cops when I need them?" Well, evidently, the answer last night was "here."
Good job to the police officer who found this bozo.
Want more Instant Karma? Look at our friend Senator Larry Craig and his recent issues with lookin' for love in all the wrong places.
We've all heard now about his attempted homosexual daliance in a Minneapolis/St. Paul Airport. We've also heard about his staunch anti-gay stance and continued opposition to gay rights.
Methinks the Queen doth protest too much.
The irony is delicious. The karma was instant.
However...I will defend Senator Craig a smidge.
While the whole concept of sex in a public bathroom baffles me (not to mention the obvious logistical and hygenic difficulties), if the toe-tapping, peeking through the stall and roller-bag placement are all widely-accepted signals for gay men to initiate a sexual encounter, then what did Senator Craig do wrong that hundreds of thousands of people do every night in bars, clubs and parties? He made a pass at somebody.
I've made passes at some women and failed. Women and some men have made passes at me, and have failed. Do any of us deserve jail time?
That's like being pulled over for doing 55 in a 55 zone because you *MIGHT* speed.
He didn't have sex with the police officer in public. He may have wanted to, or maybe he would have offered a romp at an airport hotel. The Senator flirted with somebody at an ersatz pick-up joint. His basic act was no different than a guy buying a drink for a girl at a bar and using a cheesy pick-up line.
If the Senator was engaged in public sex and the police found him, then that would indeed be an offense. But has just the *intention* of even wanting sex become a crime?
Thursday, August 23, 2007
30 runs?
Rough, rough day to be an O's fan...
When I saw the score "TEX 27 BAL 3" on the TV, I thought the Ravens were getting crushed by the Texans.
The fact that there was no football game on TV left me saddened, and shocked.
It's a good thing Wild Bill didn't live long enough to see this.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Instrumental Analysis: Cedars Say Goodbye
Instrumental Analysis: Cedars Say Goodbye
From a local music blog, thought it'd be nice to mark the passing of a local favorite band.
Oh well, I'll always have their e.p. burned into iTunes.
From a local music blog, thought it'd be nice to mark the passing of a local favorite band.
Oh well, I'll always have their e.p. burned into iTunes.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Kid Nation, done before it begins?
From avideo clip, it looks like CBS' Kid Nation might get yanked due to child abuse concerns before it even airs.
Monday, August 20, 2007
The Upcoming TV Season
My beloved roommate works at the USA Today, and she gets advance copies of upcoming tv shows every season. So far, we've got the CBS and ABC slate, nothing from NBC or Fox.
The CBS DVD contains full versions of Big Bang Theory, Viva Laughlin, and Cane.
Big Bang Theory - sitcom - The idea is that this recently-dumped, super hot girl moves in to an apartment next to these super-smart male scientists. Of course, these scientists are horrible with women and have no idea how to talk or interact with them. So, the idea of a vulnerable hottie next to these socially awkward brainiacs could be funny for an episode or two.
The problem with this show is that the smart guys are barely masculine at all - they all seem like the last thing they would be interested in would be a woman. And not because they'd be more into lab work, either. They truly act effeminate, which is almost an insult to the viewer. I'm not sure if that's the acting or directing, but it's a definite flaw. One guy is actually funny, the rest seem lame.
Cane - Drama - It's easily the best looking show on the CBS slate. It looks like a film, and it's the best acted and written script CBS offers. Could be a good show if they don't rush it. Jimmy Smits is a solid presenece on this show, though there has been some concern about him playing a Cuban.
Viva Laughlin - Drama/Musical - This is Hugh Jackman's production of a casino manager in the resort area of Laughlin, Nevada. It's supposed to be a musical drama, and before you can say "Cop Rock" this sucker will be gone. It's got pretty people, it's decently-shot and written, BUT, the idea of having a musical is for song-and-dance routines, right? Except these folks don't dance much, and the singing is actually karaoke. They have the original song going simultaneously, so these actors are pretty much mouthing the words. So, if the actor is singing an Elvis song, Elvis is singing right along with the actor.
It looks pathetic, though Hugh Jackman's cool.
Now, the DVD also contains sneak previews of Kid Nation and Moonlight. Moonlight is the tale of a kind-hearted vampire who solves crimes. Yeah.
Kid Nation is a reality show about children reviving a ghost town.
Yeah. I can't make that up. One could say Hollywood is out of ideas, though it's obvious CBS is. Couldn't they have made another CSI?
Now, for the ABC slate:
Pushing Daisies - Drama - Now this is completely unlike anything else on TV right now, and in a very good way. A young man has the ability to bring people back to life with a single touch, but if he touches them again, they die. If he doesn't touch them within a minute, somebody else nearby dies. He brings them back to life to find out how they died, and to collect any reward money for murder victims. Sounds morbid? It amazingly works. It's sublimely acted and written, and shot brilliantly. Vibrant colors, almost like a Tim Burton fairy tale movie with highlighters. Very likable cast...this could be a great show, kind of in an "Ed" and "Northern Exposure" way. Just don't "Moonlighting" it, because you can see the chemistry between the male and female leads.
Dirty Sexy Money - Drama - Great cast, interesting idea. An idealistic lawyer is hired by a wealthy family (think Kennedy or Rockefeller) and then has to keep them all from getting in trouble. One is on her third marriage, another is a terrible actress with suicidal thoughts, another is a young playboy, and another...well, he's about to be a Senator who's in love with a transsexual.
And he's played by a Baldwin brother. Two Baldwins in prime time!? What a world!
It's interesting...but I think it'll peter out. Too much plot too soon. It's got potential, but I think they'll make the pace far too dizzying. I can tell such things. Can smell it in advance.
Big Shots - Drama - Four youngish, handsome men with powerful jobs and a whole lot of issues. It's pretty sharp, actually. Great cast, sharp writing, not too much given away in the beginning. I was surprised Christopher Titus could act so well, but he pretty much rocks. Dylan McDermott, Michael Vartan, and That Guy From Every Aaron Sorkin Show star.
Sam I Am - Comedy - Christina Applegate is Sam. Sam was in an accident, and suffers from retrograde amnesia. Sam wakes up with no memory of herself or friends or family, and as she struggles to regain her senses, she finds out she was not a terribly nice person. It's cute, but given the amnesia story is pretty cliche, I'm not sure how long this can go. It is funny, though, and I laughed a couple of times more than I thought I would. Applegate is a pro, and she can charm her way through some awkward writing with a smile.
Cavemen - Comedy - Oh. Dear. God. This is perhaps the single worst show I've ever seen. Remember when Fox first got on the air and would play anything? That's this show.
See, Cavemen aren't extinct, they're a repressed minority. Now, take every stereotype you've ever heard about a repressed minority, and that's what happens to cavemen. It's simply a bunch of rehashed jokes with non-clever wordplay.
The only saving grace to this show is that the one caveman who's the political militant bitter caveman is pretty funny. The dorky caveman is a good dancer. The third caveman is just kinda klutzy. And that's the extent of it. I laughed once in the 25 minutes, and that's only because I have a stunted sense of humor, and was thinking of something else at the time.
Otherwise, this thing isn't funny, isn't well-paced, and isn't really quality. However, I said the same thing about "According to Jim" so WTF do I know? `
The CBS DVD contains full versions of Big Bang Theory, Viva Laughlin, and Cane.
Big Bang Theory - sitcom - The idea is that this recently-dumped, super hot girl moves in to an apartment next to these super-smart male scientists. Of course, these scientists are horrible with women and have no idea how to talk or interact with them. So, the idea of a vulnerable hottie next to these socially awkward brainiacs could be funny for an episode or two.
The problem with this show is that the smart guys are barely masculine at all - they all seem like the last thing they would be interested in would be a woman. And not because they'd be more into lab work, either. They truly act effeminate, which is almost an insult to the viewer. I'm not sure if that's the acting or directing, but it's a definite flaw. One guy is actually funny, the rest seem lame.
Cane - Drama - It's easily the best looking show on the CBS slate. It looks like a film, and it's the best acted and written script CBS offers. Could be a good show if they don't rush it. Jimmy Smits is a solid presenece on this show, though there has been some concern about him playing a Cuban.
Viva Laughlin - Drama/Musical - This is Hugh Jackman's production of a casino manager in the resort area of Laughlin, Nevada. It's supposed to be a musical drama, and before you can say "Cop Rock" this sucker will be gone. It's got pretty people, it's decently-shot and written, BUT, the idea of having a musical is for song-and-dance routines, right? Except these folks don't dance much, and the singing is actually karaoke. They have the original song going simultaneously, so these actors are pretty much mouthing the words. So, if the actor is singing an Elvis song, Elvis is singing right along with the actor.
It looks pathetic, though Hugh Jackman's cool.
Now, the DVD also contains sneak previews of Kid Nation and Moonlight. Moonlight is the tale of a kind-hearted vampire who solves crimes. Yeah.
Kid Nation is a reality show about children reviving a ghost town.
Yeah. I can't make that up. One could say Hollywood is out of ideas, though it's obvious CBS is. Couldn't they have made another CSI?
Now, for the ABC slate:
Pushing Daisies - Drama - Now this is completely unlike anything else on TV right now, and in a very good way. A young man has the ability to bring people back to life with a single touch, but if he touches them again, they die. If he doesn't touch them within a minute, somebody else nearby dies. He brings them back to life to find out how they died, and to collect any reward money for murder victims. Sounds morbid? It amazingly works. It's sublimely acted and written, and shot brilliantly. Vibrant colors, almost like a Tim Burton fairy tale movie with highlighters. Very likable cast...this could be a great show, kind of in an "Ed" and "Northern Exposure" way. Just don't "Moonlighting" it, because you can see the chemistry between the male and female leads.
Dirty Sexy Money - Drama - Great cast, interesting idea. An idealistic lawyer is hired by a wealthy family (think Kennedy or Rockefeller) and then has to keep them all from getting in trouble. One is on her third marriage, another is a terrible actress with suicidal thoughts, another is a young playboy, and another...well, he's about to be a Senator who's in love with a transsexual.
And he's played by a Baldwin brother. Two Baldwins in prime time!? What a world!
It's interesting...but I think it'll peter out. Too much plot too soon. It's got potential, but I think they'll make the pace far too dizzying. I can tell such things. Can smell it in advance.
Big Shots - Drama - Four youngish, handsome men with powerful jobs and a whole lot of issues. It's pretty sharp, actually. Great cast, sharp writing, not too much given away in the beginning. I was surprised Christopher Titus could act so well, but he pretty much rocks. Dylan McDermott, Michael Vartan, and That Guy From Every Aaron Sorkin Show star.
Sam I Am - Comedy - Christina Applegate is Sam. Sam was in an accident, and suffers from retrograde amnesia. Sam wakes up with no memory of herself or friends or family, and as she struggles to regain her senses, she finds out she was not a terribly nice person. It's cute, but given the amnesia story is pretty cliche, I'm not sure how long this can go. It is funny, though, and I laughed a couple of times more than I thought I would. Applegate is a pro, and she can charm her way through some awkward writing with a smile.
Cavemen - Comedy - Oh. Dear. God. This is perhaps the single worst show I've ever seen. Remember when Fox first got on the air and would play anything? That's this show.
See, Cavemen aren't extinct, they're a repressed minority. Now, take every stereotype you've ever heard about a repressed minority, and that's what happens to cavemen. It's simply a bunch of rehashed jokes with non-clever wordplay.
The only saving grace to this show is that the one caveman who's the political militant bitter caveman is pretty funny. The dorky caveman is a good dancer. The third caveman is just kinda klutzy. And that's the extent of it. I laughed once in the 25 minutes, and that's only because I have a stunted sense of humor, and was thinking of something else at the time.
Otherwise, this thing isn't funny, isn't well-paced, and isn't really quality. However, I said the same thing about "According to Jim" so WTF do I know? `
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Been a smidge quiet
I have been in a weird place recently. And I don't mean to Michael Vick's backyard, either.
As some of my friends know, I wasn't just in Minneapolis to see some old friends and eat some pork. I was there for a job interview. I didn't expect to get the interview, let alone the job, but wouldn't you know it, they offered me the gig!
Telecom, in the Midwest. Hmmm...seems I've done that before.
So, it shocked me even more when I accepted it. Who, in their right mind, moves to Minnesota before the winter?
((other than college students))
Nobody!
Just lil' ole' me.
However, the rub is my lease. I don't have a moving clause in the bugger, and it doesn't look like I'll be able to move without suffering a heck of a penalty. The new company offered to pay some of it, but it's still a lot of cash. More than I feel like losing.
So, unless there's a miracle tomorrow in the leasing agency, I'm going to be here, in the MidAtlantic for a bit longer.
I've been waffling on this potential move for a week. Appears that my decision is being made for me.
As some of my friends know, I wasn't just in Minneapolis to see some old friends and eat some pork. I was there for a job interview. I didn't expect to get the interview, let alone the job, but wouldn't you know it, they offered me the gig!
Telecom, in the Midwest. Hmmm...seems I've done that before.
So, it shocked me even more when I accepted it. Who, in their right mind, moves to Minnesota before the winter?
((other than college students))
Nobody!
Just lil' ole' me.
However, the rub is my lease. I don't have a moving clause in the bugger, and it doesn't look like I'll be able to move without suffering a heck of a penalty. The new company offered to pay some of it, but it's still a lot of cash. More than I feel like losing.
So, unless there's a miracle tomorrow in the leasing agency, I'm going to be here, in the MidAtlantic for a bit longer.
I've been waffling on this potential move for a week. Appears that my decision is being made for me.
Friday, August 03, 2007
From DCFUD - Lookin' California, Feelin' Minnesota
How strange that an innocent trip to the Twin Cities this past weekend would be bracketed two of the biggest news stories of the year.
A simple two-day mini-vacation to see some old friends in Minneapolis and get some good food seemed like a grand idea, and the affordable direct flights to Minnesota courtesy of Northwest Airlines would be a fine way to spend as much time away from D.C. as possible. That is, until Northwest and its pilots decided to come to loggerheads over work schedules the very weekend I would depend on them for transportation. As the Minneapolis/St. Paul Airport is Northwest's major international hub, local and cable news crews descended on passengers stuck in the expansive facility, trying to capture the mess as flights were cancelled like bad sitcoms on the WB.
Once in Minneapolis, I was whisked away to the Mall of America. Apparently it's illegal to visit the Twin Cities without going to this overgrown tribute to America's love of commerce and indoor theme parks. For those who have never been to the MOA, it's basically both Arundel and Potomac Mills combined after hanging out with Barry Bonds' trainer. The Mall changes stores like Sean Combs changes stage names, so while I missed the awesome hot sauce store that was there on my first visit in 1999, I didn't mind seeing the P.B. Loco Cafe' and its selection of peanut butters, ranging from the sweet Raspberry White Chocolate to the spicy Asian Curry, take its place. Waffles served with maple/peanut butter sauce...smoothies packed with fruit, chocolate and incredibly delicious peanut butter...yeah, that place could be dangerous if they opened up a location in D.C.
One place I had to try was J.D. Hoyt's, a casual steakhouse in Minneapolis' Warehouse District, just a few blocks from downtown. The place is nice, though very unassuming. It reminded me of Baltimore's late McCafferty's in the Mount Washington neighborhood, though this place appears to pay its bills. Pictures of the owners, famous guests and happy people dining on steaks the size of pizzas adorn the walls. J.D. Hoyt's is known for their pork chops, ribs and steaks, and the intoxicating mix of Cajun spices and meats from the kitchen made it tough to choose just one entree'. Service as provided by Roberta (though call her Bobby, remember, this place is unassuming) was smooth, efficient and friendly. And, I was pleasantly surprised when a "small" sampler platter of prime rib, baby back ribs and spiced pork chop arrived. Important to note - this "half" rack was the size of a full rack; the prime rib was baked and then lightly seared to temperature, and the pork chop was nearly a pound of fresh-from-the-farm carnivorous pleasure. The meal was solid - the prime rib was not as good as you'd expect from a true high-end steak house, but definitely right for the price. The pork ribs and chops, however, were just about perfect.
The friendliness of the Minnesotans was shocking. Talk flowed freely between tables and the few folks at the bar didn't remain strangers for long. Most conversation revolved around the groudbreaking for the new Twins baseball stadium, just a couple blocks away from J.D. Hoyt's, which was scheduled for this week. Kevin Garnett, the Minnesota Timberwolves star player, had not yet been traded to the Boston Celtics, but the rumors were flying. The chef came out to talk to each table, Bobbi gave me dining and tourism tips, folks at another table asked me for dining and tourism advice in D.C. During the night, a small group of young men came in to toast their Army buddy, just scant days away from being called to active duty in Iraq. People who had just met moments ago bought drinks for the young man, barely 21 years old, and though it was clear some patrons didn't support the war, they all supported their soldier.
So while I was saddened to find out tragedy struck Minneapolis soon after I left, I wasn't surprised to hear stories of heroic actions by folks caught up in mess of tangled vehicles and bridge, tending to those less fortunate. Of people rushing from the shore to help those who might be trapped under steel and concrete. Of prayer circles and support centers for those who may have lost somebody in the Mississippi River.
I drove across that bridge on Monday.
Feelin' for Minnesota
I was in the Twin Cities this weekend. Got to see some old Midwestern friends - not as many as I'd have liked to - but some nonetheless. I was impressed by how much Minneapolis is growing - some of the new designs are very progressive, much more daring than other Midwestern cities (Chicago being an obvious exception). Ate some good meals, met some nice people. I couldn't expect much more from a quick getaway.
I finally got to eat at JD Hoyt's, after almost 10 years of hearing about the place. Food was solid, service was great, and the people were ridiculously nice. The pork ribs, prime rib, and pork chops were all fantastic, though not as spectacular as expected.
And, of course I went to the Mall. Had to get some good peanut butter from their peanut butter store, and to see the Lego store.
I was on that darned bridge Monday afternoon before I left. Very odd sensation, really. Since no specific incident triggered the fall - at least, none that we know of yet - and it is so random, it makes me wonder why it just went when it did. What was so damning on Wednesday as opposed to Monday? Or Wednesday as opposed to today? Or next week?
Weird stuff. It wasn't a near-death experience for me, and certainly not traumatic, but it has made me pause for a second, definitely.
Still, you have to love the Minnesotans. Folks ran down to help those stuck, tried to get others out, assisted the emergency crews - even people who had been on the bridge when it fell helped others who were stuck. Others who couldn't help prayed or comforted those around them.
Doesn't that seem so expected, so natural, for a Midwesterner to act like that? To care for their neighbors before putting their own needs first?
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Lookin' Maryland, Feelin' Minnesota
Going up to the Twin Cities this weekend for a well-earned break and a meal at J.D. Hoyt's and some good ole' fashioned Midwestern hospitality.
And steaks the size of Toronto.
So begins my Season of The Wedding. 4 weddings in six weeks, 3 in consecutive weeks. Brutal. Stephen and Picot. My old old girlfriend Heather. Joey. Eric. It's crazy. I'll be broke and so sick of taffeta. But, such is the issue with having friends. Sometimes you have to stand by and watch them wreck their lives ;-)
Interesting article on how the average German supported Hitler prior and during WWII. The author clearly is not a fan of the current Administration in the US, and makes several points - a couple admittedly valid - on the parallels between fear, lies and propaganda.
And steaks the size of Toronto.
So begins my Season of The Wedding. 4 weddings in six weeks, 3 in consecutive weeks. Brutal. Stephen and Picot. My old old girlfriend Heather. Joey. Eric. It's crazy. I'll be broke and so sick of taffeta. But, such is the issue with having friends. Sometimes you have to stand by and watch them wreck their lives ;-)
Interesting article on how the average German supported Hitler prior and during WWII. The author clearly is not a fan of the current Administration in the US, and makes several points - a couple admittedly valid - on the parallels between fear, lies and propaganda.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Finally Figured Out The Decemberists...
...the modern day version of Prefab Sprout. Songs full of drama and importance and amazing musicianship, but I'll take Paddy McAloons' silver voice over the incessant quavering of Colin Meloy's anyday.
Took me a while to figure it out.
I'll give The Decemberists another listen, past Meloy's voice and see if I can find something new.
Took me a while to figure it out.
I'll give The Decemberists another listen, past Meloy's voice and see if I can find something new.
Monday, July 16, 2007
Final Chapter of the Last Harry Potter Book Leaked!
BET you're wondering where I got THIS lil' gem? Seems plausible...
***********************************************************************
Harry wakes up surpised, not to be at Hogwarts, but in a British mental institution. His wizard cape has been replaced with a straitjacket; his wand no longer in his hand, only the cold steel chain of a handcuff. After being pumped full of an ungodly amount of L-dopamine, young adult Harold Potter looks up at Dr. Dreyfus Umbledor, an older Ugandan-English psychologist at the facility who smiled as the young man's eyes widen. "Hello Harold, how are you?" he asked our hero.
"Where am I? Where's my wand? I thought you were dead!" screamed Potter.
"I am very much alive, Harold, though I had to take a leave of absence since my divorce. It seems once again you're alive as well. You've been in a catatonic state for years. It's good to see you, to meet you face to face."
"Why am I bound? What happened to Snape? Where are my friends Ron and Hermione? What has He Who Must Not Be Named done to Hogwart's?" asked Potter.
Dr. Umbledor tossled the thick black hair of his young charge. "Harold, I've watched over you for nearly a decade, wondering what was going on in your beautiful mind. Despite our wonderful advances in mental health since the 1990s, we are unable to truly read minds. We could tell through brain wave monitors that your alpha waves and receptors were constantly firing. Your eye movements have been unlike anything we've ever seen in similar REM moments. It's almost as though you were alive while being completely asleep."
"Why am I bound, Dumbledore? I need to be released! I must fight..." exclaimed Potter.
"You were restrained to keep you from hurting yourself." Dr. Umbledor explained. He reached over to pick up a small hand mirror, and showed Potter the scar. "You gave yourself quite the nasty gash one day many years ago in one of your states. We bound you to protect you from yourself."
"But my friends Ron and Hermione!? Where are they? I must see them!" cried the exasperated youngster.
Dr. Umbledor looked quizzically at him. "Who are Ron and Hermonie?" he asked.
"You don't know Ron and Hermione? My Lord, Voldemort has gotten to you, too! You don't remember your three finest students at Hogwart's?" answered Potter by way of questions. He was convinced more than ever in the evil of Valdemort.
Dr Umbledor chuckled softly in acknowledgement. "Oh, Harold...I apologize. I had no idea that while you were in your state that you could synthesize exterior stimuli and incorporate them into your dreams. Ah, the power of the mind is so amazing! Harold, I'm afraid your friend Ron is nothing more than Ron, one of the janitors here at Azakbhan's Mental Health Facility..."
"Wait," interupted Harry. "you mean Azkaban?"
"Oh my. It appears you picked up on my pitiful trait of mixing up consonants. English is such a hard language to learn. I tried to learn it through music, and for years, I thought Mott the Hoople was Hott the Muggle. I still get them confused" said Umbledor.
"What's a Muggle, Professor?"
"I don't know, but I used to say it all the time. And Harold, I gave up teaching years ago. Hardly a Professor; simply a doctor now. Anyway, as I was saying, Ronald is a custodian here at Mopple's, and he hangs out at the Hero Mine, a comic book store in town. We believed that you could someday hear us, so all of us on staff would tell you stories from our day-to-day lives. Perhaps Ron told you about the store."
"But Hermione was my true friend. She is so lovely, the way she's grown. Her hair so lively, her eyes so brown, perhaps my great love!" extolled Potter.
"Either you read some Greek Mythology before you came here or you're thinking of Ron's tale. It's very much a comic book store, Harold. Full of many boys and men about your age. None of them have ever seen, let alone actually touch, a girl, and certainly none as lovely as you describe."
A wave of realization crashed into the storm breakers on Potter's face. He was wondering if he was under some sort of spell, but he felt a pain in his left shoulder far too acutely to be under one of Voldemort's sinister plans.
"Doctor Umbledor, why does my shoulder hurt so?"
The doctor looked at the young man's shoulder. "While you were sleeping, you were bitten by an exotic spider. Before you were bound, you would constantly itching it. We kept telling you to stop itching it, but you obviously didn't listen. Ron, the Janitor, took special attention to your area, always making sure your room was spotless. He'd tell you in that rough cockney drawl of his 'qwit itchin! Qwit itch!"
The doctor loosened the shackles on Potter's arms. "Here you go, young friend. You don't need these now."
Potter snapped up in bed, and snapped the pencil out from Dr. Umbledor's coat. He started to cast the Spell of Reality he learned while at Hogwart's, but something caught his eye - a pimple-and-pock-covered pig had walked into the room.
"Snape!" snapped Potter. "It must be you!"
"Oh, dear Harold!" exclaimed Dr. Umbeldor. "That's our pet hog, Viktor. He's a bit old, but he provides company to the patients while they sleep."
Potter looked at the walking pork chop. "He's covered in marks..."
"Yes" said Dr. Umbledor. "Warts from when he was a piglet. We couldn't send him to butcher, so we kept him on as a pet."
"Hog - warts..." said Potter slowly. "Quit Itch....Quidditch...Viktor..."
"Yes, Harold?" inquired Dr. Umbledor.
"I'm still a great wizard, right?" asked Potter."
"Wizard? Oh my boy, the only Wizards I know of play basketball back in America, and you're far too young, short and pale to be effective in their game."
"But I'm a champion...Quidditch player..."
"In your dreams, Harold. In your dreams you were legend, I'm sure. This, however" as he gestured around the sterile hospital room, "is reality. It's 2007; we haven't seen a wizard in England since the 1500s, at least."
"My Lord, Doctor...could it all have been a dream?"
"Perhaps," said Dr. Umbledor "it all was what you wanted it to be."
The young man sat back down in his bed. He had just been given news that would shake any lesser man to his knees - that his whole basis of reality was a lie. A figment of his imagination.
"Doctor...thank you" offered Potter, softly.
"You have no need to thank me. You will prove to be a fascinating case. What did you think you were?"
"Well," began Potter, "I was a boy wizard, taught at Hogwart's School...a place for those talented in magic. I was friends with Ron and Hermione and we laughed and we fought evil and you were there as a Professor, but you were white, and you fought with Snape and we were warned of the evil Voldemort..."
Dr. Umbledor roared with laughter. "The evil Voldemort?! That's priceless, Harold!"
The young man looked quizzically at the older gent.
"Voldemort," explained Umbledor, "was the name of my ex-wife's divorce attorney! He tried to take everything I ever owned! You got that evil part spot-on!"
Potter excused himself from laughing, though he wasn't mad that Umbledor was still cackling like an old hen. He realized that his dream world was so much better than the real world.
"My young man," said Umbledor to Potter, with his hand placed on his shoulder "these dreams of yours would make a wonderful story. 'Harry Potter the Prisoner of Azkaban!' has a ring to it..."
FINIS
***********************************************************************
Harry wakes up surpised, not to be at Hogwarts, but in a British mental institution. His wizard cape has been replaced with a straitjacket; his wand no longer in his hand, only the cold steel chain of a handcuff. After being pumped full of an ungodly amount of L-dopamine, young adult Harold Potter looks up at Dr. Dreyfus Umbledor, an older Ugandan-English psychologist at the facility who smiled as the young man's eyes widen. "Hello Harold, how are you?" he asked our hero.
"Where am I? Where's my wand? I thought you were dead!" screamed Potter.
"I am very much alive, Harold, though I had to take a leave of absence since my divorce. It seems once again you're alive as well. You've been in a catatonic state for years. It's good to see you, to meet you face to face."
"Why am I bound? What happened to Snape? Where are my friends Ron and Hermione? What has He Who Must Not Be Named done to Hogwart's?" asked Potter.
Dr. Umbledor tossled the thick black hair of his young charge. "Harold, I've watched over you for nearly a decade, wondering what was going on in your beautiful mind. Despite our wonderful advances in mental health since the 1990s, we are unable to truly read minds. We could tell through brain wave monitors that your alpha waves and receptors were constantly firing. Your eye movements have been unlike anything we've ever seen in similar REM moments. It's almost as though you were alive while being completely asleep."
"Why am I bound, Dumbledore? I need to be released! I must fight..." exclaimed Potter.
"You were restrained to keep you from hurting yourself." Dr. Umbledor explained. He reached over to pick up a small hand mirror, and showed Potter the scar. "You gave yourself quite the nasty gash one day many years ago in one of your states. We bound you to protect you from yourself."
"But my friends Ron and Hermione!? Where are they? I must see them!" cried the exasperated youngster.
Dr. Umbledor looked quizzically at him. "Who are Ron and Hermonie?" he asked.
"You don't know Ron and Hermione? My Lord, Voldemort has gotten to you, too! You don't remember your three finest students at Hogwart's?" answered Potter by way of questions. He was convinced more than ever in the evil of Valdemort.
Dr Umbledor chuckled softly in acknowledgement. "Oh, Harold...I apologize. I had no idea that while you were in your state that you could synthesize exterior stimuli and incorporate them into your dreams. Ah, the power of the mind is so amazing! Harold, I'm afraid your friend Ron is nothing more than Ron, one of the janitors here at Azakbhan's Mental Health Facility..."
"Wait," interupted Harry. "you mean Azkaban?"
"Oh my. It appears you picked up on my pitiful trait of mixing up consonants. English is such a hard language to learn. I tried to learn it through music, and for years, I thought Mott the Hoople was Hott the Muggle. I still get them confused" said Umbledor.
"What's a Muggle, Professor?"
"I don't know, but I used to say it all the time. And Harold, I gave up teaching years ago. Hardly a Professor; simply a doctor now. Anyway, as I was saying, Ronald is a custodian here at Mopple's, and he hangs out at the Hero Mine, a comic book store in town. We believed that you could someday hear us, so all of us on staff would tell you stories from our day-to-day lives. Perhaps Ron told you about the store."
"But Hermione was my true friend. She is so lovely, the way she's grown. Her hair so lively, her eyes so brown, perhaps my great love!" extolled Potter.
"Either you read some Greek Mythology before you came here or you're thinking of Ron's tale. It's very much a comic book store, Harold. Full of many boys and men about your age. None of them have ever seen, let alone actually touch, a girl, and certainly none as lovely as you describe."
A wave of realization crashed into the storm breakers on Potter's face. He was wondering if he was under some sort of spell, but he felt a pain in his left shoulder far too acutely to be under one of Voldemort's sinister plans.
"Doctor Umbledor, why does my shoulder hurt so?"
The doctor looked at the young man's shoulder. "While you were sleeping, you were bitten by an exotic spider. Before you were bound, you would constantly itching it. We kept telling you to stop itching it, but you obviously didn't listen. Ron, the Janitor, took special attention to your area, always making sure your room was spotless. He'd tell you in that rough cockney drawl of his 'qwit itchin! Qwit itch!"
The doctor loosened the shackles on Potter's arms. "Here you go, young friend. You don't need these now."
Potter snapped up in bed, and snapped the pencil out from Dr. Umbledor's coat. He started to cast the Spell of Reality he learned while at Hogwart's, but something caught his eye - a pimple-and-pock-covered pig had walked into the room.
"Snape!" snapped Potter. "It must be you!"
"Oh, dear Harold!" exclaimed Dr. Umbeldor. "That's our pet hog, Viktor. He's a bit old, but he provides company to the patients while they sleep."
Potter looked at the walking pork chop. "He's covered in marks..."
"Yes" said Dr. Umbledor. "Warts from when he was a piglet. We couldn't send him to butcher, so we kept him on as a pet."
"Hog - warts..." said Potter slowly. "Quit Itch....Quidditch...Viktor..."
"Yes, Harold?" inquired Dr. Umbledor.
"I'm still a great wizard, right?" asked Potter."
"Wizard? Oh my boy, the only Wizards I know of play basketball back in America, and you're far too young, short and pale to be effective in their game."
"But I'm a champion...Quidditch player..."
"In your dreams, Harold. In your dreams you were legend, I'm sure. This, however" as he gestured around the sterile hospital room, "is reality. It's 2007; we haven't seen a wizard in England since the 1500s, at least."
"My Lord, Doctor...could it all have been a dream?"
"Perhaps," said Dr. Umbledor "it all was what you wanted it to be."
The young man sat back down in his bed. He had just been given news that would shake any lesser man to his knees - that his whole basis of reality was a lie. A figment of his imagination.
"Doctor...thank you" offered Potter, softly.
"You have no need to thank me. You will prove to be a fascinating case. What did you think you were?"
"Well," began Potter, "I was a boy wizard, taught at Hogwart's School...a place for those talented in magic. I was friends with Ron and Hermione and we laughed and we fought evil and you were there as a Professor, but you were white, and you fought with Snape and we were warned of the evil Voldemort..."
Dr. Umbledor roared with laughter. "The evil Voldemort?! That's priceless, Harold!"
The young man looked quizzically at the older gent.
"Voldemort," explained Umbledor, "was the name of my ex-wife's divorce attorney! He tried to take everything I ever owned! You got that evil part spot-on!"
Potter excused himself from laughing, though he wasn't mad that Umbledor was still cackling like an old hen. He realized that his dream world was so much better than the real world.
"My young man," said Umbledor to Potter, with his hand placed on his shoulder "these dreams of yours would make a wonderful story. 'Harry Potter the Prisoner of Azkaban!' has a ring to it..."
FINIS
Sunday, July 15, 2007
A new device and Decemberists in July
Picked up a new laptop to replace the long-dead but not-forgotten Device Mk. I, the Toshiba Satellite laptop that died back in `06. Best Buy had a pretty good sale on HP laptops, so I purchased one with 2 gigs of RAM, AMD Turion X2, integrated webcam, LightScribe SVS/CD burner and...Windows Vista.
So far...other than being slightly annoying, Vista has worked fairly well so far. The "cancel or allow" thing is pissy, but at the end of the day, it's still Windows. Take it or leave it.
Went to the Decemberists' show last night with the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra at Merriweather Post Pavillion. They were all fine and dandy...and boy was I neither over or underwhelmed. I think I was simply whelmed.
They're not a bad band, but boy are they a lot to swallow more than a random mp3. Their lyrics range from preposterous to pompous. They remind me a bit of Crash Test Dummies - the words *SEEMED* important and meaningful until you gave the lyrics and actual read and/or listen. Then, it hit ya like a sledgehammer to the forehead "Hey, this is crap!"
Still, they put on a nice show, and seem like charming folk. The music just ain't my bag, baby. That's what I get for buying a ticket to a show of a band I barely know.
Saturday, July 07, 2007
One of those nights...
1) Rumors in NW DC needs help. The A-Hole to Normal Evolved Human Ratio is SO out of whack there. The place has always been cheesy, but cheesy AND full of pricks...can't handle that.
2) Why do women insist on flirting with the friends of the guy they just broke up with? Honey, I heard the stories. I know why you're done as a couple, mostly because you're probably a dirty, dirty girl who cheated on my boy. So why do you think I'd give you the time of day?
3) MeetinDC - can the obsession with my ass PLEASE stop? I'm done with it. I'm about ready to drop the group completely. Knock it the hell off. Seriously. Next person who grabs my ass is going to get their ears boxed, or a kick in the shin. I'm sick of my ass being grabbed more than antacid at a Mexican food festival. If I wave it at you, then you may proceed. Otherwise....NO!! Bad MiDC person! Bad!
2) Why do women insist on flirting with the friends of the guy they just broke up with? Honey, I heard the stories. I know why you're done as a couple, mostly because you're probably a dirty, dirty girl who cheated on my boy. So why do you think I'd give you the time of day?
3) MeetinDC - can the obsession with my ass PLEASE stop? I'm done with it. I'm about ready to drop the group completely. Knock it the hell off. Seriously. Next person who grabs my ass is going to get their ears boxed, or a kick in the shin. I'm sick of my ass being grabbed more than antacid at a Mexican food festival. If I wave it at you, then you may proceed. Otherwise....NO!! Bad MiDC person! Bad!
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
oh my DAMN!!! Transformers frickin' rocks!
Finally, a movie Michael Bay didn't screw up!
Shia LaBeouf rocks! Megan Fox lives up to her name! John Turturro is hilarious! Optimus mother-f*ckin' Prime!
Perfect summer movie! The Five Paragraph Bitter Film Critic is harder than a virgin at a gang bang!
I'm writing in exclamation points!
You will love this movie...unless you're a tool. You're not a tool, are you?
*******************************************************************
Transformers gets 8 Whammies! for the eight different Transformer toys I had as a kid. It could have had nine if I hadn't have lost Starscream in the move to Glenarm Road.
*******************************************************************
My only complaint...
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