Back in the Saddle

So I had my first job interview in almost three years today, to be a part time photography teacher for elementary school and junior high kids at a non profit after school center. It started off not so great, as I somehow got lost in the city and walked the wrong way, ending up 5-10 minutes late for a position that was close to being filled anyway. I spoke with the Director of the Media Center for a few minutes, and then she sprung on me teaching the kids, who are of all different skill levels and already know how to print black and white, how to print. Oh, and then she enhanced my resume for me, telling the kids they were lucky to have a professional photographer and graphic designer on hand as their visiting artist and teacher. I don't think I'm really a professional at this point, but it sounded cool to all the kids, so I had to go with it. Thankfully I wasn't quizzed, but I feel secure I could mostly outsmart 12 year olds if it came to it. It's like on a first date though. I try to be interesting and myself, only better, funnier and more charming. However, I would never say I have my own detective agency or I once climbed Mt. Everest, because she's going to be disappointed enough after the second date without finding out I'm a liar also.

Four hours and many headlocks broken up later and I couldn't help feeling I'd just been suckered into working for free. Interview, my ass. It ended with the director and I speaking about how the day went, and before I could stop myself, I was taking off my shoes and changing to basketball sneakers. In my defense, the back of my feet were all cut up. Hey, if a date ends with me taking off my shoes, that's a good night right?

****************

Tonight I started to appreciate the value of living alone. Walking in the apartment, I was able to throw everything down, shed my pants, sit down on the couch and turn on whatever I wanted, with no fear of Suze Orman raising her ugly head, or anyone being disturbed by my less than fully clothed state. I also learned a valuable lesson: drinking a liter of Dr. Pepper before bedtime will probably lead to nervousness, twitching, anxious energy and most likely render bedtime useless.

Average Expectations

For the last two days, I've resolved to be quite productive and find a job as well as a future ex-wife, but only so long as I can do both online and conveniently. In fact, if there's no "Apply Now" button for the job on monster.com, I move on to the next one. I'm finding both of these tasks rather difficult, but also noticing that surprisingly, they share some similarities.

With so many people applying for the attractive options, it's really hard to differentiate yourself. You have to come in with the mindset that at least 50 other people want this. What makes me better than any of them? I just am. You'll have to take my word for it. And don't ask any questions that put me on the spot, like what's my best quality or what quality do I not like about myself that I'm working on.

I'm tired of trying to market and sell myself to strangers when I know I'm a perfectly adequate choice and would perform moderately well as boyfriend or employee. I know what I can and can't do, and don't apply for things out of my league. Hotbibella79, who likes big muscled guys with tattoos, I'm sorry but I don't fit the bill. AvantiCreativeDirector08, I just don't have the experience or skill set to head up your department. I understand this, and am ok with it. With more experience and less fear of needles, maybe one day, but for now I'm okay with where I'm searching. Unfortunately, ladies can't see my ginormous biceps and statuesque body through their computers, and jobs can't see me causing huge amounts of dollars to flow in the future by looking at my resume.

Inevitably, 80% of the women and jobs you apply for just won't get back to you. I used to believe it's rudeness, but maybe they do it to keep your dignity in tact. You understand when you don't receive a response that nobody likes you without anyone having to spell it out for you. Hey, rejection hurts. I was just rejected to be a photographer/studio assistant at a hospital, and in fact, they additionally noted I wasn't qualified for the job. I'm pretty sure they were one step away from calling me a stupid cretin and telling me how out of my league they are. How am I not qualified for that job? I'm a photographer, I can assist, I've watched Scrubs and I've been in a hospital before. Perfectly suited. You know what, job, I didn't really want to have you anyway. You were just a backup until a hotter job got back to me.

End of an Era

In between crashed scaffolding and "haha, you're moving to Jersey" jokes, Sunday, me, Dynamo, his quite sick lady friend, and his incomprehensible and constantly plotting cousin moved Dynamo and said lady friend to Jersey City, New Jersey. USA. Why would we do such a thing? Mostly because Dynamo got a job in Parsippany, NJ, USA, making machines emit noise so that something can be tested. Finally getting a chance to pursue his dream career of software engineer without having to sacrifice his morals and help build better tracking devices for military killing machines, he's been waking at 4:00 AM and getting home at 5:30 PM or later, cranky about half the time. Now, thanks to the physics of distance and time, he can comfortably sleep till 5:30 AM and be home much earlier.

Unfortunately, Dynamo had to sacrifice living in the Dr. Seuss wing of the Brooklyn castle we have shared since it's purchase last October. Moving day was odd, dividing cups, plates and silverware and trying to make sure HD left with important things he'd need for the coming week, including bottles of alcohol, the Boondocks book and his electric razor. While I got to keep the rice cooker and I'll probably hide the salsa maker so I don't lose that, I have lost the stainless steel kitchen/prep table, used for eating, cooking and putting things when I walk in the apartment. I'm left with a dining room table which is much less glamorous, and no way to put it together, because Dynamo saw fit to steal the nuts that kept the legs on.

As good friends since 9th grade, I have no doubt we'll stay close despite the distance to Jersey City, New Jersey, USA. However, there's definitely a dynamic change between best friends and roommates. It also means I'm going to have to start leaving the comfort of my home to hang out with a friend, which is mighty inconvenient for me. While helping him pack moving morning, I couldn't help thinking of the episode of Friends when Joey moves out of the apartment him and Chandler share because he has more money now and wants to experience living on his own.

Since I'm too poor to buy out the other half, we're going to continue owning it together and I'm going to get a new roommate. My friend Jamie (who, despite his name, happens to be a guy) is moving in on April 1st. Until then, for the first time in my 26.75 years of living, I find myself living by myself. The first day was definitely lonely and a little weird. There's now this room downstairs (we live in a duplex) where someone used to live that's neither cleaned out nor full. It's almost taboo; I see the stairs that lead down every time I go to the bathroom, but have no reason to go downstairs, so I shun it and pretend it doesn't exist. While I miss Dynamo, at least I'm not staying up late watching the rain on the window and wondering if he is too, a la previously mentioned Friends episode. Besides, I think I miss the Xbox 360 more.

Weather Related Disaster Strikes

This is somewhat more catastrophic than my last post. Jealous that adulthood was getting all the cool headlines, the wind and cold weather decided it needed to strike too. Unfortunately, the target was a scaffolding up the block from my castle. Like the wolf of urban porcine lore, Mr. Puffy Cheeks kept blowing until it forced the mesh netting to topple the 6 story high scaffolding, crushing what lay below. Thankfully no people were injured, despite their best intentions. While live wires carried live electricity and current that could end lives, and sparks flew everywhere, and unlucky tree branches burned, people walked, roller-bladed or drove as close as they could. I couldn't help thinking of the scene in Die Hard With A Vengeance when Bruce Willis shoots at the power line and it hits the helicopter which in turn majorly explodes. Good thing that didn't happen.

Adulthood Strikes

Somewhere between eating candy before/for dinner last night and buying comics today, I realized what an adult I've become. Was it the purchasing of cornbread at Whole Foods, simply because I saw it while waiting in line to pay, mirroring how I bought Haribo Fruit Salad and Fizzy Colas last night? Or could it have been the marshmallows I originally went in to said natural food giant to buy? Maybe it was having two separate conversations with two different people about comics on the subway ride home. Yes, I know there's a new Iron Man movie coming out (and I'll see it, though I'm not positive he had nothing to do with the death of Steve Rogers).* In any case, I'm going to stick with the upper age on Haribo's friendly mantra: "Kids and Grownups love it so."


*P.S. Like I told gold-tooth man, Daredevil, Punisher and the Hulk were all bullshit movies. Though Bullseye is raw.

Arkansans

Things I thought while reflecting on my last blog posting:

• Whatever happened to those fake breasts that were thrown around at my New Year's party?
• If people from Kansas are called Kansans, are those from Arkansas called Arkansans? Arkanoidians? Archangels?
• I wish Gideon Defoe's blog was Americanized. It's hard to follow all his British pop culture references. While researching everything is quite informational and enlightening, it wastes time that could be spent cramming XBox 360 playing before Dynamo departs Brooklyn and absconds with it.
• What was that other thing I thought of while watching the address but then forgot, but wanted to add to yesterday's blog since it was probably funny?
• I still have to discuss with my sister, and eventually divide ownership of, all the plastic dinosaurs bought from the American Museum of Natural History. Unfortunately, I think the Iguanodon rightfully belongs to her. I'll be sad to see it go, because it's funny to make believe he's the Fonz and taunt the other dinosaurs. "Hey, sit on it T-rex."
  
• In light of the fact that no one is stepping forward and volunteering to iron my shirts for me, I need more space-age, futuristical no-wrinkle fabric shirts.
• I HATE washing my socks, cause then I have to match and fold them all.
  
• I think Darks McKnight would be a good alias for me.

Kansans

Things I thought and later remembered while watching the State of the Union address and the Democratic Response:

• I actually missed the first half of the State of the Union. And by missed, I don't mean in the sentimental sense
• Is Kathleen Sebelius, the governor of Kansas, really the best person to represent United States Democrats?
• Man, I'm bored
• Shouldn't Governor Sebelius have shutdown Kansas' Board of Education after they "intelligently" voted on the theory of creationism?
• Yawn
• I had no idea folks from Kansas were called Kansans. I always assumed they were called Kansasistanis, Kansasknights or Kentuckians.
• Later research has shown me where I can finally get a photo of this dreamboat to hang over my bed. They really should increase the contrast on the black and white image; it looks rather flat
• John McCain is really scary looking when he smiles, and his teeth are kind of buttery
• Maybe McCain stole Paul Wall's grill
• Did John really just say he appreciated George Bush's sincerity?
• Chocolate chunks, chips, or a fudge swirl really make chocolate ice cream more appealing to me
• Does anyone notice if you use the same State of the Union address a few years in a row, changing Iraq for Iran? (To "quote" Outkast, "Bombs over....Tehran?")
• The audience at the State of the Union address was a who's who, with Senators, House of Representatives, Supreme Court Justices, even Bob Dole. It reminded me of the scene in the Muppets Take Manhattan when Kermit married Miss Piggy, and the casts from the Muppets Show, Sesame Street and various other muppet related shows came out to celebrate. Oh look, there's Sweetums, Sam the Eagle, Gonzo and oh my gosh, even Bert and Ernie!!

Too Much Time?

Recently, while crudely writing a message from Dynamo to me on an orphaned sock in green permanent marker ("Me want c Hitman - Sherm") to prove my point that he wanted to see Hitman with me, I realized it's been 6 months since I've held a full time job, and I'm still managing to survive. But first, I realized I may have too much free time on my hands. I mean, not only did I have the time to engineer and carry out this masterful plot, but I was able to also blog about my exploits.

Minaya's Lasting Mistake

On Friday, Met's GM Omar Minaya decided to spice up the off-season with a boneheaded move, trading away 22-year old prospect Lastings Milledge for much older and scrubbier players, Ryan Church and Brian Schneider. Way to go!

Marty Noble, Mets beat writer who usually tells it how it is, claimed this falsity:

Milledge remains highly regarded because of his quick bat. But he wasn't as good a fit as Church for the Mets -- at least for 2008 and perhaps '09 -- because he bats right-handed. With Schneider, a left-handed hitter, catching and Church playing right field, the Mets now can have three switch-hitters (Jose Reyes, Luis Castillo and Beltran), two right-handed hitters (David Wright and Moises Alou) and three left-handed hitters (Carlos Delgado and the two new men) in their most regular lineup.

The Mets have trouble hitting lefties...the solution, apparently? Trade for a lefty who can't hit lefties. While Church hits well at Shea, he also hit .229 last year against LHP. At 29, he's in his prime, and that's the problem. A still developing Milledge will post similar numbers to him this year, at 7 years his junior.

In addition, the recently acquired Johnny Estrada is as bad an offensive option as Schneider, but cheaper by a million or two per year. While it's true that Milledge is a better center fielder than corner outfielder, judging by his remarkably superior play in center while filling in for Carlos Beltran, but won't get to play that position for many years, he's still a better option than Church.

Lastings was once mentioned in trades for Manny Ramirez, Roy Oswalt and Dontrelle Willis. Coming off a subpar year, Milledge's trade value had plummeted, but trading him for two scrubs has left the Mets without many bargaining chips. Or Utz chips for that matter. Lastings used to pick them up from the corner bodega on game day. Without proper nutrition derived from crab chips and without good young players, I'm afraid Minaya will be forced into signing subpar Livan Hernandez in an effort to corner the market on old Cuban pitchers named Hernandez.

Mr. Noble, bucking the trend of his fellow writers who denounced the trade, believes that both Schneider and Church will be good fits for the Mets, "the kind of players that make the whole greater than the sum of it parts." Sorry Marty, but sometimes crappy player plus crappy player really just equals a lasting mistake.

Black Boxes

Recently, Human Dynamo got a job as a software engineer at a company that manufactures radio frequencies and puts them into scanners so the supermarket can figure out how much that pear you want to buy costs. He admitted to me that he didn't really understand how RF works, but he doesn't need to; to him, it's a black box. The black box principle is explained in detial here: black box explained, in detail. I admitted to him, I didn't really understand how his job worked, so it was a black box to me, just like the whole black box principle was a black box to me.

It was with this intense scientific background that the following conversation more or less occurred Friday night when Dynamo somehow decided to discuss with me and his lady friend a problem he was working on at work.

Dynamo: So I'm working on this problem at work, and I'd really like to talk to ya'll about what I do every day, since I figure you two, with your sound scientific backgrounds, will understand quite easily. I'm trying to get this machine to emit something or other and so I need a clock pulse to make it happen. See, the way it works, is there's this digital signal. It looks a lot like a sine curve, or the graphs used on the back of transformers figures to denote power ratings, but they're square instead.

Then Dynamo made a drawing, showing us how you can fit a bunch of small, tiny digital signals in the space of a larger, digital signal. Whatever the peak sine thing is called, and all that. I'm still not quite sure why.

Me: Are you having trouble due to the black box theory?

Dynamo's lady friend: What's the black box theory?

Me: It's like when there's a cat inside a box, and you're not sure if it's dead or alive, but it probably isn't alive. Because live cats tend to crap everywhere and make a general mess of things. Or maybe that's Shroeder's principle. Which would probably help clear up the backyard problem.

Dynamo: No, that's not what it is, it's...

DLF: Oh, it's like back in math class, when you have a math problem, and it's 2 + box = 3, and you don't know what's in the box and it could be anything.*

Me: Well, it's always going to be 1, or some form of it at least, like 16 over 16. See, what it actually is, things go into a hypothetical black box, and then come out, and you don't know why they came out as they did or how, but it doesn't matter. You just know that it did. Kinda like a really complicated paper shredder or pasta maker where someone else put in the ingredients.

Dynamo: Ok, yes...well, at least you two didn't talk about parallelograms or wolves. So I'm trying to figure out the best way to do this, and while L Bo I know you're curious about why you can't just create the code once and copy it over and over, attenuator.

Me: What's an attenuator?

Dynamo: Also, actuator.

Me: ....?

Dynamo: It can be anything. It actuates things.

Me: So once you come up with the code, how do you add that onto the computer chip?

Dynamo: See, there's gates, and you can open or close different ones for a reason you won't understand. I use VHDL** to make the program, and then...well, since you probably already know how it's done, why don't you explain?

Me: Ok, so when you're done with all the programming, a giant stamper, similar to the flavor gun used on Cinnamon Toast Crunch, is used to impart all the knowledge onto each individual computer chip that is created, right?

At this point, we went off on a bit of a tangent and discussed the benefits of a stranger...which Dynamo kindly demonstrated the preparation for. Then proceeded to watch Tivo like a stranger. Dynamo's lady friend told us to stop being 7th graders. But honestly, 7th graders don't yet know about the stranger, as they're still infatuated with regular.

Dynamo brought the conversation back on track by explaining to me why a clock pulse was needed to time the increments that his machine emitted something or other, and what a clock pulse (which he had started to explain 2 hours prior at the beginning of the conversation) was.

Dynamo: Ok, well picture a clock...tick, tock, tick, tock.

Me: Oh, so it's like a clock. With a pulse. Hey, that's why they call it a clock pulse. Makes sense.

Dynamo, lying on the floor after falling off the couch: Ouch.

*DLF stands for Dynamo's Lady Friend. And she almost always speaks in mathematical symbols.

**"VHDL clearly stands for Voltron Hyper Markup Text Language," I knowingly interrupted with at that point.

Veggiestein

Last night for Hinduzilla's (thus named for his hinduism as well as propensity to swipe helicopters out of the sky and breathe radioactiveness on buildings) birthday we went to Vegetarian's Paradise 2. I was immediately struck by the large menu, that had many food choices...there was chicken dishes, beef, seafood, duck. But how could this be? Dynamo and I, in a show of our true intellect, were both perplexed every time we saw "crab" as an ingredient. Apparently, veggie-heads, as they often call each other, like to play god with their food. They take these vegetables that they so love, and create a Frankenstein like meat out of them. Soy becomes chicken nuggets, or some random protein on a sugarcane to resemble a drumstick, or slices of duck, complete with artificial skin on it. While completely indigestible by the average human body, these dishes were still rather tasty. Despite this, I think I'll remain omnivorous and get my protein the old fashioned, carnivorous way.

On Stuffing, Cranberry Sauce and Dogs

Happy Thanksgiving to all, and to all a Happy Thanksgiving. Look, at least I didn't say Gobble Gobble, or Happy Turkey Day. The turkeys are definitely not happy that day...but they are kind of delicious. However, I tend to flock more towards the stuffing and the homemade cranberry sauce while saving room for the endless amounts of pies that always congregate on my aunt's table. This year, my plan was no different, though the pies didn't quite fulfill my expectations for them. There was a decent pear, a really good custard, a pecan that nobody wanted to eat, and some wack cakes.

The weakness of the dessert wasn't the only surprise this past weekend though. Every year, we head to my mom's sister's house in Medfield, Massachusetts. This year, we didn't need to use any tranquilizer darts on my mom on the ride up or back down. My 16-year old cousin, who in my mind is still 5 and holding a stuffed cloud leopard named Spot, is somehow one year away from graduating and 40 pounds heavier than me. Helping him get so large is a Powertec home gym my uncle bought for him, which is sturdier than most and runs on roll bearings instead of ball bearings, or so I'm told. There's another reason it's so sturdy: it looks like it was made from rejected Caterpillar parts. I swear, it's some sort of wack Constructicon, whose alternate form would be used by Starscream behind Megatron's back to get dynamite pecs in preparation for a coup. Lastly, but definitely not least importantly, I saw no bears on their land. Not that I ever have, but what's the point of owning land if you're not going to attract bears to hang out?

On the way back, my family stopped off at Petco to get some home improvements for my sister's hamster. I looked at pets to buy, but none were large enough to properly be awesome...until I happened upon a book about Rottweilers* and read that they will follow you all around the apartment, guard your stuff with intense courage, and will help you do laundry. An ideal pet if ever I'd heard of one. Logically, I set to work preparing for when I would own one by figuring out what his ideal name would be first. For your astonishment and reading pleasure, I've listed, in no particular order, the names I'm deciding from, thought of while riding shotgun.

• Thor - Obviously, the dog will have to prove himself by being able to lift Mjolnir. Shouldn't be a problem though.
  
• Dr. Doom
• Mo
• Gideon - If he has a proclivity for ham, pirates, lusty wenches and drinking out of the toilet.
• Jasper
• Bear - This doesn't even need explaining, and is tied for #1 choice right now with the Odinson.
  
• HoJo
• Wallace - This would only work if he's a goofy dog, like a sheepdog or something.
• Dwight Freeney - I already have a plant named after him, but that doesn't make it exclusive. If my dog is the best pass rushing dog, then he too can be named after Dwight.
• Rowlf or Ralph - This is a no-brainer if he's a St. Bernard. I named my childhood stuffed dog after Rowlf from the Muppets, but couldn't pronounce it, so he got Anglicized into Ralph.
• Grizzlebee
• Green Lantern
• Spector
• Moon Knight
• Biscuit
• Steve Rogers - Rottweilers are known to be courageous. And they could probably throw a vibranium shield.
• Clint
• Nomad
• Kodiak
• Cliff - After Method Man, not Clifford the big red dog
• Slick Rick - Also not after Clifford the big red dog
• Willis - I actually forget who this would be after
  
• Shea - To honor the Mets
  
• Colossus - To honor the X-Man
  
• Hercules - To honor the ancient Greeks
  
• Jax - To honor...actually, just cause
  
• Optimus
• Jerome
• Barksdale - Avon was a Golden Gloves champ and found with grenades, among much other contraband
  
• Bismarck - I think it's a little much to expect my rottweiler to be the father of modern Germany, but he should appreciate his heritage
  
• Richter
• Marino - Favre stole his record, this may make up for it
  
• Roscoe
• Bruno
• Wyatt
• Doc
  
• Koko B. Ware - I might not be able to resist naming him this, though it'll probably get him laughed at by more legitimate dogs who will frequently get to wrestle in more important matches than him. Time has not been kind to Koko, unfortunately, but apparently, the Birdman is flying again.
  

*Those that know me know that I call them Rockwilderz and believe they can fly. I just didn't want new readers to think I was weird. But, just think about how awesome that would be, for a minute.

Who Currently Holds the Dragon Star Belt?

In speaking with DJ about his Thanksgiving day plans, I think I discovered a fundamental flaw in the way my brain works.

DJ: Yo, call me Tsunami, cause I'm going to tear up thanksgiving dinner. I've been in training, and I'm gonna hit that hard.
Me: My thanksgiving dinners are more a marathon than a sprint man. Gotta train differently. Also, call me Machine, or Superstar.
DJ: *silence*
Me: We were discussing WMAC Masters again, weren't we?

Your Mom's the Speed Limit

A couple months ago, I received a traffic violation ticket for making a left turn onto a road that was left-turn prohibited until a certain time. I didn't see the sign until I was halfway through the turn and in the middle of the intersection. Not wanting to cause an accident, and because I really wanted to go left, I made the turn. Cops immediately pulled me over and notified me of the error of my ways. Eventually, I remembered to dispute the ticket and was granted my day in court.

Thinking it best not to drive to traffic court and worrying about metal detectors and other such delays, I Q-trained it over to the DMV in Coney Island where I ended up waiting for 20 minutes. About 25 of us entered a small room that had what I assumed to be a judge and a clerk, and sat on benches. The judge would call the offenders up one by one, ask them how they plead, let the officer state their case, and if they met their burden of proof, hear the offender's defense. While waiting, I got to be entertained.

"This is my cell phone bill from T-Mobile. You'll see I made no calls during that time. This is my only bill, and I can't have made this up, since it's from T-Mobile, and I don't make their bills. It wasn't a phone in my hand, maybe she saw me scratching my ear."
"She didn't see me do anything, because the car in front of me ran the stop sign, not me, and she made a U-turn so she couldn't have seen me."
"He was following me too closely. I was fine. He should have gotten the ticket for following too close, not me," said the lady, ticketed for following the car in front too closely, about the cop who gave her the ticket. Denial's a fine defense, but when you really want to make your point, turn it back on them. No, you're the one who is guilty!!

Finally it was my turn. The lady cop who was the partner of the male cop who had given me the summons wasn't prepared to argue her case. The judge refused her motion to reschedule, since I was a first time offender and had shown up, and dismissed my case. I wonder if showing up on time always yields such positive results. Freed from charges against me, I celebrated by jaywalking all the way back to the subway.

House Happenings

On a recent trip to Home Depot, I bought a bypass lopper and an axe. Or a hatchet. Which to be honest, they shouldn't have let me buy. I love the loppers. Don't make any Cyndi Lauper jokes, because I've heard them already. I go outside with them (not Cyndi) and I've successfully attacked a mulberry tree, an out of control rose of sharon, and trimmed back my elm tree. They're addictive though; once you feel those blades slicing through wood like it was room temperature butter and you've rolled out of the way to avoid the much larger than expected falling branch, you'll never want to stop. The hatchet, on the other hand, is quite difficult to use. I've managed to chop down some smaller tree-like things, but I'm no George.* I did have a scary moment when I swung and missed, towards my left thigh, but had the presence of mind not to attack myself. Dynamo and I will be taking down the trees later, lumberjack style, probably without any self-inflicted bodily harm. Once that's done, I'll keep the hatchet around to practice my weapon throwing skills, ward off annoying super-intendants, and as a cat deterrent.

*************************************************

Dynamo's lady friend made us merguez (not mirgaz, as originally believed) last night. Merguez is a ground lamb with an exoskeleton of plastic casing, found naturally in the wild. It grows on trees and is picked in the early morning, when it's freshest. Deliciously spiced, it can be used to make just about anything that has merguez as an ingredient. Dynamo and I, being adults and all, petitioned his lady friend until she made our merguez in the shape of a bear, bison and 4 point crown, using cookie cutters which had previously been neglected. I'm now refusing to eat any ground meats unless they've been prepared in an ursine shape.


*As in, "and the cherry tree."

Cutting off my nose to spite my face

As you may have heard on the streets, my mom is really anxious to buy me a winter jacket.* I'm really anxious for her not to. I feel like it's a waste of money, as I have a jacket from 2 years ago that's still in good shape. And by this, I mean it still looks and feels like a jacket, not that it's biceps are impressive. But apparently, especially when compared to my mom and sister, I'm weird for not wanting two to three jackets for every season. I've told her that I don't even need cold weather gear, because I don't even plan on leaving my apartment this winter. I may even hibernate from early January till mid-March. I realize this means I'd miss important and sacred holidays like President's day, but I'm willing to make sacrifices. Anyway, to prove my point (and not just cause I'm lazy and couldn't find anything to do) I didn't leave the apartment Saturday nor Monday, and Sunday only left to pull weeds in the backyard. Take that, mom!

*No, I'm not some little kid letting their mom buy things for me. But I'll be damned if I don't accept handouts!

Heat Check

I think there's something wrong with our heat. More specifically, Dynamo thinks there is, and he'd know before I would. He occupies the parlor level (fancy way of saying his ass is in the basement) of our lovely duplex and relies on the warmth provided by Keyspan energy and some science I won't even pretend to understand a lot more than I do. See, there's this rebellious theory going round that heat rises, and since I occupy the deluxe/main floor, I'm not yet feeling the chill. I'm not saying my temperature's tempura, but I'm mostly comfy. When the cold does set in, I warm up the room in the most energy efficient and environmentally friendly way possible; I turn on the lights in my room, throw on my jacket and leave the apartment. It's kind of like a heating lamp for lizards, and probably what they would do, if they had opposable thumbs, and could reach my light switch.

In the meantime, despite Dynamo's constant obsession with building things out of bamboo, there have been no panda visits. Bamboo flooring, bamboo glued together to make shelves, bamboo under the bed storage, bamboo roboot(s). Not a single panda. Not even a knock on the door, or an inquiry into the availability of pandaing in our apartment. Well, there's only so much luring we can do. I think we should take advantage of the temperature disparity in the house, and instead focus on renting the icebox lower level to more amiable folks who will appreciate the lengths we went to to make them feel accommodated. That's right, it's time to get polar bears!

New York Playa-hating Department

I hate the NYPD towing my vehicle policy. In addition, I've figured out their whole giving my van tickets policy is probably based on jealousy that pimp van is so awesome. I mean, pimp van has been described before as a "giant, white, metallic cheetah" minus whiskers and the ability to sustain its speed for longer periods of time. I'm fairly certain that pimp van can carry me across waters, much like when you try to float your covered wagon across the river in Oregon Trail (minus the possibility of losing a wheel or any oxen or getting diptheria). Finally, 5-0 be hating cause pimp van never has to wait in line at the club.

I could see how if you weren't friends with pimp van, his constant awesomeness would drive you to despair, but giving him tickets all the time for infractions of rules it's too cool for is just wrong. It'd be like telling Fonz not to turn on juke boxes or women by tapping them in the right spot. Not cool.

Anyway, earlier today I was supposed to pick up my mom from her job and she was going to graciously buy me a new, completely unneeded, winter jacket. This plan went horribly wrong when I went to feed the meter and my van was no longer there. Figuring I just couldn't remember where I parked him, I canvassed a few blocks, and when I came to the realization that he should have been where I originally thought, I searched for broken glass.* Finding none, I found out from a friendly uniformed officer that my van had been towed. This led me and my entire family on an adventure to the impound lot, which is always in an area rejected by the rest of humanity.

My mom, worried that the lot would close before we got there, suggested multiple times that I call and let them know I'm coming and to keep the lot open, until I assured her that it wasn't like a restaurant and they'd probably not be interested in taking my reservations. Under a highway and next to a cemetery was where they had kidnapped and brought pimp van to, and I had to ransom him out for 185 one dollar bills. To further insult me, the NYPD left a ticket on pimp van for more moneys. As Pkilla pointed out, I've donated enough to the department of finance in the last six months and they should give me this one for free, like a customer loyalty rewards program.

We ended up going to two different Macy's to find a jacket my mom was fairly insistent on getting me, despite me having never seen a photo of it. It wasn't at either one. To further complicate matters, after seeing photos I noticed it had a fur hood, which I'm vehemently opposed to unless I got to eat the rabbit first. My mom didn't understand this point, and assured me I could take the hood off, which seemed pointless to buy a fur-lined hooded jacket if you were then going to make the hood non-functional. This conversation/debate managed to rage on, in loop fashion, for quite longer than was necessary, but ultimately led me to the following conclusions:

• My parents, particularly my mother, is currently OBSESSED with not buying me a bear cub.
• She should just devote part of the time she spends on looking for a jacket for me on bear catching research.

*everywhere. Find me one person under the age of 35 who can resist saying that.

Justice should be served with real maple syrup

About 6 months ago, Dynamo got Xbox 360 for his birthday, ushering in his self-proclaimed AX age. We decided (or most likely just me, since it doesn't seem he had anything to gain from this) that whoever got 5 games first would own the Xbox, just as whoever gets 5 votes first in the Supreme Court gets to give the other side wedgies after taking away our privacy. For more recap, I suggest re-reading Justice For All.

Well, Dynamo got to 5 games a few weeks ago, but I've been in denial and am planning an appeal. His lady friend suggests a recount, which might involve trashing some of his wacker games. To be fair, that's all of them at this point. Plus, I play Xbox 360 a lot more than he does. Sure, some of that has to do with me "not really having to go to work," but so what? You take advantages where you can get them.

In the spirit of our old contest, I've started a blog war between us. See, Dynamo has been very productive as of late, adding new blogs and what not. At this moment, his 30 blogs eclipses my 28. But with this gem, I'll be at 29, and poised to overtake him. Unless, of course, I forget to write any, and he reads this first and starts to amass blog posting faster than I can. So expect many more, 3rd-rate or lower, words of wisdom from me in the coming weeks.

The first salvo has been fired.

New species discovered

By me. At the Staten Island Zoo. Before you get all uppity and claim that's not very scientific, how many of you have ever found the Staten Island Zoo (or even knew that much maligned borough had a wildlife conservation park) let alone seen a fossa in real life? That's what I thought. Just me, and I really need to work on not contradicting myself.

My sister and I, on our second recent zoo trip together, completed the 5 zoo circuit that is New York City. See my super scientifically rankings immediately below this sentence, after the colon:

1. Bronx Zoo - Variety of bears, tree kangaroo boxing events, constantly sleeping bear cats, overall hugeness, Jungle World and World of Darkness propel the Bronx to numero uno.

2. Propect Park Zoo - Proximity to my apartment (Brooklyn stand up!), kangaroos and wallabies that aren't prevented from crossing over into human land, and being NYC's second most unknown zoo.

3. Central Park Zoo - Snow monkeys are always playful, but never seem to jump on and ride the swans in the water; neurotic polar bear and the rain forest exhibit with birds flying over your head should propel this zoo to 2, but it's not near me and I've always felt it could be and should be better.

4. Queens Zoo - Black bears and sentimental childhood memories along with recent reconstruction and a decently kick ass aviary prevent this from being the worst, though it is quite tiny.

5. Staten Island Zoo - Nobody even knows this zoo exists, and they probably won't until it finishes reconstruction to match the brand new Reptile House. Rare animals like fossas and the ability to stick your fingers inside the wire fence at the Amur Leopard exhibit, plus mostly emptiness during the week, make this a decent choice.

However, all NYC zoos and aquariums are better than...

6. The Mystic Aquarium is a total ripoff for $22 dollars or whatever it is. Rather than taking a trip there with your family, save your money and, on a visit to Chicago, check out their Aquarium. Or, buy some goldfish for your children.

Sorry, once I started reviewing things I got carried away.

To see more images of cute zoo animals, visit my flickr page. Seriously, this is well worth your time.