Pet Cobra

Things That Suck

My email conversations today revealed the following:

Primus sucks. No, really - I know that the band's fans buy the t-shirts that say "Primus Sucks" because Irony Is The New Irony - but Primus does, in fact, suck. Atonal drawling + the same bass/drum riffs = me asking myself why I ever liked them. I did, you know. Well, I liked "Jerry Was A Race Car Driver". That part where Les says "Dog will hunt!" still moves me.

The Onion sucks. When it stopped being funny is difficult to pinpoint - I believe it was right around the time they discontinued the T. Herman Zweibel columns. I'm a sucker for humor based upon the over-use of hy-phens. Don't agree? Think this is funny? You get no love.

So two more things that I liked in my younger days now suck. I add them to the list, which includes Rush, anything R.E.M. did following Bill Berry's brain surgery, the Ford Mustang, soccer, computers that use Windows (oh yeah, we're gettin' ourselves a PowerBook), the Lakers (this is a point of fact - I'm still a fan, but they suck. Teams that are better than the Lakers this season include, but are not limited to, the following: Denver. Memphis. Milwaukee. Cleveland. And some other L.A. team. The Clippers, I think they're called.)

Three Glasses Of Wine And One Sudafed Later...

"That looks like a fun movie."

"Fun With Dick And Jane? It's a remake, you know."

"Really? Was it called the same thing?"

"Yes. George Segal and Jane Fonda were in it. King Kong is also a remake."

"Really? I didn't know that! (Heavy on the sarcasm)"

"In the original, though, King Kong wasn't a giant ape."

"He wasn't?"

"No. He was a giant gibbon."

In Defense Of Randy Cunningham

Oh, I'm not going to defend him. Our Congressman "tearfully resigned" after fessing up to taking over $2.4 million in bribes over the few few years. As I'm one of the people that pays your salary, Randy Duke, I feel that I'm entitled to say two things to you:

Dude - you took CHECKS? For your BRIBES? That's Darwin Awards stuff, my man.

Were you racked with guilt the first time you drove your new Rolls? Did you weep silent tears when escrow closed on your Rancho Santa Fe mansion? You're crying now BECAUSE YOU GOT CAUGHT, MOTHERFUCKER.

No, I'm not going to defend Randy Duke. But I GAR-AN-TEE that the GOP Kool Aid Drinkers will express their sorrow and support for this "American hero" (yeah, he was America's first and only ace in Vietnam - he wrote a book about himself, then rode that fame to Washington, and $2.4 million in kickbacks later...), and the most vocal will be found right here in San Diego. So I invite all of Randy Duke's supporters to educate the rest of us - tell us what a great guy he was.

This Old House

I'll preface this post by saying that I'm not complaining. Far from it. I'm within walking distance of some excellent surf. We have a HUGE backyard for the kid and the dog. We have more room than we know what to do with. We are smitten with our neighborhood. This is our dream house. (Well, not "ours" since it's not ours, but you know what I mean).

But. The house gets cold. REALLY cold. And it makes me sneeze. Worse - it makes Lucas sneeze.

As I know jack shit about houses, the sneezing thing has me a bit stumped. My grandmother did not have a cat. The carpets were cleaned; we vacuum every couple of days, so the house is not cursed with the permanent layer of dog hair and dust that plagued our last two places (HARDWOOD FLOORS!! FROM HELL'S HEART I STAB AT THEE!!! FOR HATE'S SAKE I SPIT MY LAST BREATH AT THEE!!!). Beth's theory is that the ducts need to be cleaned. I am not sure how this is accomplished - are there people who clean ducts? Because the house gets REALLY cold at night, we need to run the heater. Which dries out the air. Perhaps it causes little particle-y things to fill the air and make us sneeze. Should we get one of those Sharper Image Super Ion Air Cleaner thingies?

This living-in-a-real-house thing is trickier than I thought.

Dead And Bloated

Good morning! It's 7:41 a.m. PST, and as of right now, I'm the only one who came into work today. The ONLY one. All the other 11,999 people who work for my company took the day off. I'm minding the store. Feelin' a bit like Dante Hicks. (What is it with me working for companies that are open the day after Thanksgiving? Next job I interview for, must remember to ask about that.)

Yesterday's feast was a success. As mentioned on DadCentric, I cheated and ordered a Fried Turkey from Big Jim's. It was pretty tasty. A bit on the peppery side, though - I love that gamey turkey flavor, and the marinade they injected the bird with was a bit overpowering. I made everything else. The cornbread stuffing with Andouille sausage and pecans; cranberries with dried cherries, allspice and cinnamon (with a couple of shots cherry brandy to give a bit of a kick; roasted sweet potatoes with a maple-butter glaze; green beans tossed with sage butter; and buttermilk biscuits. Just what my fat ass needed.

No matter. Today I start training. An hour at the gym over lunch. Thirty minutes of weights and twenty of cardio three days a week ought to do it. Goal is to drop 20 pounds by March. Feeling and looking like shit lately, and we can't have that - not when I have a kid who has the energy level of the Tasmanian Devil and a new board on the way.

The Waiting Game

It's been 6 days since I faxed in the order. I didn't think the wait would bother me. Wrong.

My commute takes me past Cardiff in the morning and again in the evening. The past few days have been, in many ways, stellar - beautiful weather, glassy conditions, and while the tides and swell have made things less than perfect, it's looked great. From my vantage point. On dry land. In my truck.

I still need to get a wetsuit; got a line on two great deals. One is for a NinePlus; I'm not familiar with the brand, and while I like the retro look, I'm wondering if that translates to retro fit and performance. I do like the full-smoothy effect, especially as the air and water temps drop over the winter. The other is for an O'Neill Psycho; I've worn O'Neill's since I started surfing, know my size, and have had nothing but good experiences. Only concern with the Psycho is how warm it's gonna keep me; it's very stretchy, but the price of flex is often insulation. Both would cost me the same.

The waiting, though, is hitting me on a deeper level. I really want to rediscover surfing. I want to rededicate myself to the art. Over the past couple of years, I've been a weekend warrior at best. Granted, fatherhood and other responsibilities meant less water time. But I don't have any more excuses - I am literally right across the street from the ocean. And while I don't plan on ditching Beth and Lucas every time there's a swell or the tides are right, I want to get back to the mindset I had when I was first starting. When you're out there, charge it. Strive to get better. Improve on something with each session. What was happening with frequent regularity: I'd paddle out, and chill; sit on the board, watch the other guys and gals, enjoy just being in the water, be satisfied with the waves I got. In hindsight, that attitude, more than anything else, affected my surfing.

So I've got a couple more weeks to wait. Gonna be a long couple of weeks.

Question For You, Boss O' Mine

So this morning, you stomp into my office, shut my door, then spend the next ten minutes yelling - YELLING - at me because the new guy we hired into the Contracts position got here at 8:30 and waited down in the lobby for a half hour because no one came down to get him.

A few things come to mind before I ask my question.

One: you and his boss both knew two weeks ago that he'd be starting today at 8:30. Yet you and his boss both went to a meeting that started at 8:30 today. Even though it falls upon both you and the new guy's boss to check him in.

Two: you normally conduct employee orientations, even though I've asked, in writing, on three different occasions, if I could be trained to do these in case something came up and you weren't around to conduct them.

Three: as I was not at this meeting, and had no knowledge that such a meeting was taking place, and also had no idea that you and the new guy's boss were at this meeting, and no one called me to say that the new guy was there by himself, I'm not quite sure why this is my fault.

Four: after you spent ten minutes yelling at me for something that was, in fact, completely your fault, you then proceed to implore me to find someone for your open HR assistant position. As part of recruiting involves demonstrating affection and enthusiam for your company, co-workers, and management, and as this person would be reporting directly to you, I gotta say that this will be a challenge, because when candidates ask me how I like working for you...

Y'know, I forgot what my question was.

Absence

Holy Hell, the week has caught up with me. Tired, tired, tired. Good thing: I'm outta the office at 3:30 today. Not so good: immediately picking up Lucas and driving up to LAX through Friday traffic. Cancelling out the Not So Good: picking up Beth, who I miss terribly. Lucas misses her as well, but not the same way that I do. This is because he has talked to her on the phone every night since she's been gone. As he is still a few months shy of 2, he has no concept of what the phone actually is; my theory is that he believes it's like The Phantom Zone from the Superman comics and movies, and Mommy is not in Hong Kong, she is hanging out inside the phone, and will pop out when she's ready.

Sometimes I envy him. Some advice: if your spouse/S.O. is away, do yourself a favor and don't listen to Death Cab For Cutie's "I Will Follow You Into The Dark".

Lost: You Will Be After Reading This

Haven't talked about Lost in a while. Last night's ep was one of the best yet, possibly the best of the season. While surfing the Net and getting paid for it working this morning, I came across the following link.

Now, before reading, I will let you know that this stuff is, according to the author, PURE SPECULATION. However, he makes a pretty deep and convincing case for What It All Means. So if he does turn out to be right, the entire show will be spoiled. Personally, I think that the showrunners have a vague idea of what the endgame will be, and making a lot of this stuff up as they go along.

So you've been warned. Read on:

http://www.4815162342.com/forum/viewtopic.php?t=3377

I Decide Upon And Order A New Board. Oh, And Hell HAS Frozen Over.

There is something bizarre about faxing in an order for a new board. It's weird - like ordering a couple of boxes of staples, or sandwiches for you and your co-workers. Don't seem right, do it?

My first custom board, I went to Hollingsworth's house and spent time chatting with him. I'd like to think that my knowledge of board design has increased since then. I had a pretty good idea of what I wanted - consulted with Whiff on a few fine points ("Novice Surfer" my ass) - looked at one specific board to see if what I wanted was doable. It was. So I did.

Now all that's left is the waiting.

Oh - what did I get?

If I gotta wait, so do you. All will be revealed in time.

Is it ready yet?

How 'bout now?