Sunday, June 8, 2008

No turning back now

After years of separation, my CD collection has been merged with Deborah's. There were about 15 duplicates, and they will be heading soon to the local used CD store.

This represents another significant step in our relationship. Yes, we've been married, as recognized by the State of California, for almost one full year, but even more important than that is the intermingling of our musical selections.

Of course, this is mostly symbolic as I have not purchased music on a physical CD since about 2002.

One other note: If you see anything embarrassing in the photo, it's Deborah's.

Monday, April 14, 2008

Molly

There's really nothing I can say that hasn't already been said better than I could anyway. I do take comfort in that you packed more into your life than most people ever do. We'll always love you, Molly.

Thursday, September 13, 2007

Continuing my string of Mac-related posts...

My friend Maggie is a very unique individual. Nothing she says or does surprises me. Yesterday, we had this conversation:

Me: Hey! You got an iPhone too! Cool!

Maggie: Yeah, I got it as a gift from Carson Daly's mom.

As I said, this response did not surprise me. In fact, the only thing Maggie could have said that would have surprised me was, "Yeah, I walked into a store and bought it like a normal person."

Sunday, August 26, 2007

Again with the pictures

Big thanks to our friend Michelle for serving as wedding photographer! More photos here.

Monday, August 13, 2007

Yep, we're married

My hard-partying bachelor days have come to an end.

Tuesday, August 7, 2007

Happy unbirthday to me!

Thanks to everyone for the birthday wishes. Except, uh... it's not my birthday.

I was completely baffled as to why people were wishing me a happy birthday. Then my friend Lauren from Beloit wrote: "The My Beloit thingee is telling me today is your birthday ... for some reason I thought your birthday was March 7th." And she's right.

Seems that when I signed up for the My Beloit thingee, which is of the networking circle family of thingees, I mistakenly put my birthday in as August 7. Oops. Then, like all good circle thingees, the site e-mails out a reminder when one of your friends' birthdays hits. Ergo, the happy birthday e-mails. At least no one sent me a present; I would have felt really guilty when I didn't come clean and return it.

So to those of you who wished me a happy birthday, thanks! As a token of my gratitude, I will pick a random day next year to return the favor.

Saturday, April 14, 2007

The first marital disagreement

Basically, it's the name thing.

Debz wants me to take her last name. I have decided against it, and not only because it would make me a wuss or any less of a man (although, of course, it would).

Debz can do whatever she wants with her name. I never would press her into a decision like that, mostly because of the punching. However, I have presented her with the three most obvious options:

• Deborah Dearth. She has rejected this, saying it sounds stupid. And of course it does when you say it, as she does, like the freak offspring of Brandine from "The Simpsons" and Bullwinkle.

• Deborah Nicol-Dearth. Nope: sounds like a law firm.

• Deborah Nicol. Different last names will lead to confusion once there are kids in the picture.

Now I've put a lot of thought into this little dilemma, and I think I've hit upon a perfect and elegant solution:

Deborah and Brian Skywalker.

Problem solved.

Wednesday, February 7, 2007

Stuff the ballot box

Some of you may remember my friend Ryan Geary from the times he dropped by campus at Beloit.

A couple of you met him when he came down to South Carolina to visit.

The rest of you don't know who the hell he is. Bear with me.

I've known him for about 15 years, and believe me, he's a good guy. And if you have a couple minutes to spare, you can help make sure the whole world (or at least the people of Rockford, Illinois) knows he's a good guy.

Ryan's a teacher and coach at Belvidere High School, and he's one of 10 finalists for the Rockford Register Star's 2006 Person of the Year award.

Still with me? Good. Here's where you come in. Go to the voting site at rrstar.com/poty and vote for Ryan. You can vote once per day. As of this moment, Ryan's in second place, but with your help, we can vault him ahead of that no-good director of homeless services from the Rockford School District.

Thanks for your help! And remember, vote for Ryan, and all your wildest dreams will come true.

Sunday, December 17, 2006

"Is that where that goes?"

If I hear this phrase at home, I know for a fact that whatever "that" is, I've left it in the wrong place.

I've recently accumulated a lot of new knowledge: dirty socks don't go on the floor, empty plates don't go on the chair and kittens don't go in the bathtub.

I remember the first time this question was posed to me. I answered, "Yes, that is where that goes." Big mistake, and one I will not repeat.

Whenever this question is asked, an immediate answer and subsequent correction is required. However, I'm never given any other information to solve the dilemma. Once the question is asked, say about the phone's current location on the dryer in the garage, I quickly deduce that, indeed, that's NOT where the phone goes. But where does the phone go?

And every time I think I've learned where everything goes, I'm always surprised by something new. For example, soda cans are not to be left on the bathroom sink, and scissors are not to be stored in the area of the couch where Deborah sits.

Each day brings an exciting new fact for me to learn! I can't wait to see what tomorrow brings!

Sunday, June 25, 2006

Ah, weddings

Where divorced people are forced to sit uncomfortably close to each other for extended periods of time.

But our hotel, the Grand Harbor Resort in Dubuque, has 3 great things: free wifi, a view of the mighty Mississippi and a waterpark, which was probably more fun after the 2 rum and Cokes at the reception than it otherwise would have been.

And yes, I realize that violates my new "no more caffeine" policy. So sue me.

Tuesday, May 9, 2006

I almost forgot I had a blog

We haven't really done much wedding planning yet. We've mostly been calling people to tell them. I let Deborah call most of the women we know because I'm not very good at guessing the moment to pull the phone from my ear as they start screaming.

No wedding planning; we're skipping over that to get working on the honeymoon. I think we've narrowed it down to two possibilities with New Zealand currently holding a slim lead over Iceland and Norway. (That defeated groan you just heard was from our credit cards anticipating the great burden we will soon cast upon them.)

Then I had a conversation about where the word "honeymoon" came from. There a few theories, the most prevalent of which is summed up by Wordorigins.org:

"There is a story floating around the internet that honeymoon derives from the Babylonian practice of a new father-in-law giving mead, or honey beer, to his new son-in-law for the first month of their marriage. I don't know if this was a Babylonian practice (although I doubt it since mead was commonly found in the northern latitudes where wine grapes could not be grown). Well, the story just isn't true. The word first appears in the 16th century. The honey is a reference to the sweetness of a new marriage. And the moon is not a reference to the lunar-based month, but rather a bitter acknowledgement that this sweetness, like a full moon, would quickly fade."

Super.

Sunday, April 23, 2006

Jekyll Island

Jekyll Island, one of Georgia's sea islands, has always been one of our favorite places to get away for a day. Jekyll has all of the things we like about Hilton Head (and there are actually a couple) like nice beaches, bike trails circling the entire island and some great natural beauty. But it has none of what we dislike about Hilton Head, such as pretty much everything else. And now there's another reason why Jekyll is a favorite place of ours. Debz and I were knee-deep in the Atlantic off Jekyll when I asked her to marry me. (She said yes.)

For those of you scoring at home, the official time was 4:30 p.m. Eastern time on Friday, April 21, 2006. Who won the pool?

Wednesday, March 8, 2006

Spotlight on ... Marty

This is the first in a series of entries that take a closer look at the people in my life. Actually, it'll probably be the only one because I just want to make fun of Marty, who gave me express written consent, to re-enact our IM conversation from earlier today.

But first, a little history of Marty. I met him when I was a sophomore and he was a freshman at Beloit because we lived on the same floor and had an Intro to Psych class together. This would have been '94 so I've known the bastard for 12 years now. We called him fuzzy Muppet head back then because he had a ... well, a fuzzy Muppet head. Over the course of the next 3 years, we became great friends, even though I had a hand in painstakingly recreating his room in the lounge one night when he was gone and left his room unlocked. Despite that incident, he never did get into the habit of locking up. He was also the founding member of an alcohol awareness group on campus, which makes the following conversation even funnier.

Marty is currently living in a sweet Chicago condo overlooking Lake Michigan and working at a job that I could never ever do. He's a good guy. He'd be quite the ladies man if it wasn't for the overpowering and constant smell of raw onions that permeates his being.

Without further delay, here is the aforementioned IM exchange with Marty. The next time I'm having a crappy day, I'm going to re-read this and crack up all over again.

Brian: how was atlanta?

Marty: it was awesome

Marty: except for the vomitorium

Brian: i thought vomit = crazy delicious

Brian: you didn't puke in their new house, did you?

Marty: no

Marty: in a hotel bathroom

Marty: 3 toilets, 2 sinks

Marty: sara, also drunk, took care of me as I slept on the parking lot floor

Brian: with that many fixtures, how could you miss?

Marty: it was a lot of vomit

Tuesday, March 7, 2006

Island in the sun

Thanks to everyone who wished me a happy birthday.

Right now, you may be thinking, "Oh crap! I completely forgot! I need to figure out a way to weasel back into his good graces!" Rest assured, there is a way to do just that. It's called Pakatoa, and I thank you in advance.

Friday, February 10, 2006

As you can see, my young apprentice, your friends have failed

I know I haven't exactly been prolific as of late. There are so many things I could blame it on: winter doldrums, busy at work, writer's ~~block~~ indifference, too many movies and TV, the rain. But I'm going to blame it on you.

Yes, you. If you're reading this, that means you probably know me. Which means your interactions with me are fodder for this site. If you do something stupid, celebrate a major life milestone or do something I can make fun of via Photoshop, it ends up here. The recent lack of posts clearly means you people haven't done anything remotely interesting for me to blather on about.

I'd suggest you get busy before I get angry. You won't like me when I'm angry.

Sunday, October 9, 2005

A must read

Since the baseball playoffs have bumped "The Simpsons" and "Family Guy" from the Sunday night TV schedule, I had to find other ways to amuse myself this evening.

I did so by creating a few fake magazine covers, like the one at right (click to enlarge).

You can do it too! All you need to do is get a Flickr account, pick someone who is easy to make fun of and click here to get started. Enjoy!

Friday, September 30, 2005

And the winner is...

The contest has ended. The gas guy arrived Friday afternoon bearing the company-minimum 75 gallons that we cheap bastards ordered. But even though our water surely has been heated during the past week by the last few drifting fumes in the tank, those remnants did a damn fine job. We never ran out.

Now for the winner. And this is where it gets tricky. Out of the four submissions. G-farb and Sharon can be eliminated right off the bat (sorry, gals, no parting gifts). That leaves Johnny (7:30 a.m. Friday) and Bryan Webb (3:13 p.m. Friday). By the time I finished my hot shower this morning, it was 8:35 a.m., and the pendulum was already swinging away from Johnny and toward Webb. The house was empty until Debz returned home at 2:30 p.m., at which time she discovered the gas had been refilled. However, had the gas not been refilled, that would have been the next opportunity for anyone to check the water status. It was less than an hour away from Bryan's guess. And since no one guessed a time later than Bryan's, he wins!

Now, your prize: an "Amigos - Killer Burritos" bumper sticker, the aforementioned "I see your heinie" magazine clip, two maps of the Seattle/Tacoma area, a brochure from Mount Rainier National Park, and my undying admiration and respect. And, should you ever return to the greater Hilton Head area, dinner for two at Amigos, home of the Killer Burrito (Pepto not included).

To quote from my previous post: "The prize probably will suck." Congratulations, Mr. Webb, it's all yours.

Sunday, September 25, 2005

Gas problems

Although I did eat Mexican/Southwestern food for lunch earlier today (which, if you want to be technically correct, is now yesterday), this post has nothing to do with my gastrointestinal system. But it does include a contest in which you could win an actual prize.

Let me be clear on two important points: 1. I haven't decided yet what the prize will be; 2. The prize probably will suck. But who doesn't want to win a prize? Even if it is something as worthless as the magazine snippet currently taped to my desk that features a drawing of a naked cartoon ass with the caption, "I see your heinie ... so big & shiny."

The Contest:

Our house has a propane tank that is used only for the hot water heater. The tank level is at zero, but we still have hot water ... for now. I called the gas company on Friday to fill it, and they said the delivery would be made in 3-5 business days. The winner will give the closest estimate on this one simple question: When will we realize we have run out of hot water?

Please note, this is not the moment when we actually run out of gas, but rather the date and time when Debz or I realize we're taking cold showers until the delivery. The deadline for entering is after the gas has been delivered so you've got until at least Sept. 28, but considering the Lowcountry approach to customer service, this could stretch into October.

Good luck and May The Force Be With You.

Wednesday, August 10, 2005

I can't be trusted

I received several warnings today - some verbal and others via e-mail - that I need to be careful when I open the fridge tonight because there are several large deli and veggie trays inside that could possibly crash to the ground if the food seeker is not alerted to their presence.

But just in case I forgot:

Friday, July 1, 2005

The end of an era

Today marked an historic occasion: it was the last day of Vicki's 7+ year tenure at The Island Packet.

I stationed myself outside the door to capture Vicki's final triumphant exit from the Packet building on film.

To celebrate the end of her employment with the Packet, tomorrow we will journey to Savannah's historic Grayson Stadium to watch as Vicki gets thoroughly tanked. Which surely will be more entertaining than the bumbling antics the Sand Gnats will be performing on the field.

And then farewell, gentle Vicki. The Packet and the Lowcountry will be quieter in your absence.

Thursday, May 26, 2005

A tribute to Andy

In honor of his wedding in Chicago this weekend, I would like to reflect upon four things, for better or worse, for which I will always remember Andrew Kenneth Covington.

Uno: Watching as Andy humbly submitted to being duct taped to the wall of our dorm in college. Good times.

Dos: The Kryptonite, which is a little throw pillow with two kittens frolicking on it that says "A Tale of Two Kitties." My mother gave this to me when Andy and I were roommates near D.C. Why she so desperately wanted the other occupants of my apartment building to think her son and Andy were a couple remains a mystery to me. For the past six years, Andy and I have tossed this thing back and forth across great geographical distances like a hot potato. I snuck it back to him at Sara and Will's wedding last September, so I have to be on the lookout for the damn thing this weekend.

Tres: Where My Wife At?

Catorce: And most importantly, without Andy, Mr. Slam would not be named Mr. Slam. I don't know what name I would have picked instead, but I do know he would not be Reginald, which is quite possibly the dumbest fucking name on the planet for a cat.

Vulgarities aside, congratulations, Andy and Elizabeth.

Tuesday, March 29, 2005

Jolly good fella

I believe there's only one man on this planet who can accomplish the following feats in the span of one week:

1. Bruises his back getting tossed off a mechanical bull on Monday.

2. Slams into a 16-year-old dumbass who pulls out 30 feet in front of him on 278 on Thursday. His Porsche is totaled, but he walks away with injuries less severe than the ones sustained in his rodeo mishap.

3. Gets married on Saturday.

4. Bolts for Bora Bora on his honeymoon, a scant one week after the bull incident.

Congratulations to and a hearty round of applause for Mr. Chris Yates and his new bride Betsy.

I considered looking for a less embarrassing and more flattering photo of Chris, but fuck it, he's in Bora Bora for the next two weeks. Plus, I don't have one.

Tuesday, March 15, 2005

Pimpin' pottery

Deborah's new site for Gnarled Root Pottery is now online. She makes kick ass stuff, so take a gander, and find something that strikes your fancy.

Everybody wins. You, the buyer, get a quality piece of pottery for yourself. If you buy it as a gift for a loved one, said loved one also wins. Deborah's financial solvency grows, which affords her the ability to keep making art. As she makes more art, her reputation grows, allowing more people to see it and have the opportunity to purchase her wares (thereby becoming winners themselves). Plus, with every piece you buy, Deborah's inventory is depleted by one, and she has to create another. This means she stays out of my hair for one more pot-making unit of time. And now I'm a winner too!

Sunday, January 30, 2005

A computer by any other name

Last weekend when I was in Atlanta, my friends Will and Sara bought a shiny new eMac. Earlier today, Marty asked them how they liked it and what they named it. (According to Sara, it's Hesperia.)

Since most of my friends and readers on this here site range from simple geeks (like myself) to hyper-super-uber geeks who even think the first two Star Wars prequels were good movies (that'd be Morgan), I'm posing the question: Have you named your computer(s)? If yes, what is the name and what kind of computer is it?

For the record, neither my G3 iBook nor my new G5 iMac has a name. I'm open to suggestions from anyone except Deborah. She'll just suggest something stupid because she's a communist tree-hugger hippie who hates Macs.

Friday, October 22, 2004

Southern hospitality

Congratulations to Will on his new job in Atlanta. Let me be one of the first to welcome you and Saraq to the Daily Show fodder also known as The South (get used to seeing these words in caps).

In addition to being happy for you two on your move, I'm also excited on a selfish level. Right now, my Beloit friends are only accessible with the assistance of Delta Airlines. But after November 15(ish), Will and Saraq will be less than four hours away via I-16. After spending four years in South Carolina, I have felt more than a bit out of the loop, despite the e-mails and phone calls. The ability to meet up with two great friends on what I hope will be a regular basis is definitely a welcome development.

On a non sequiturial note, make sure you get your hook up from Zim and his Crack Creme. Please note I'm not criticizing the product's effectiveness, only the ill-chosen brand name that is sure to make Marty laugh his damn fool head off.

Wednesday, October 13, 2004

The big 2-9

Debz's birthday came and went, but she didn't get either of the two things she wanted from me. This remains a slobbering dog-free house, and I didn't hug a tree. However, I did not, as Chris suggested, piss on a tree instead to provide a "dosage of water and essential minerals." In my experience, most trees place great importance on their ~~personal~~ arboral space. I respect that and refrain (usually) from both hugging and urinating on our photosynthesizing friends.

What I did get Debz for her birthday was an evening of theater... tickets to the local arts center's production of "Chicago." The show was fantastic. Plus, we also got to play one of my favorite local games... Hilton Head is populated primarily by the over-60 set, and the audience overwhelmingly reflected this demographic. So when the final curtain fell, it was time for the Senior Citizen Obstacle Course Challenge. There were two stages... the first was winding our way through the rows, aisles and large groups of stationary septuagenarians. Once we successfully navigated a path out of the building and through the parking lot, we faced one final test: a motorized version of the Challenge, a kind of lightning round in reverse.

Because of my work schedule and the tyrannical Monty Burns-like attitude of my boss, we weren't able to partake of a birthday dinner until after the show. So Debz and I enjoyed an intimate late-night meal at the Brick Oven, with the romantic bass thump of the Uncle Kracker concert in the adjacent music hall providing the soundtrack, which was punctuated by the occasional raucous yawp from a stream of overzealously intoxicated music lovers passing by.

So everyone join me in wishing Debz a happy birthday. And remember Debz, next year at this time, you'll be 30.

Tuesday, June 8, 2004

What I didn't learn in kindergarten

Sharing... I'm not a fan of it. It's not my fault. See, when I was in kindergarten, I injured myself learning to tie my shoes (groin pull, very painful). I was out for a week, which just happened to be the week they taught the concepts of sharing.

They don't force you to make up missed work at age 5, so I got progressively worse as I grew older.

If, after a couple bites of your salad, you now want a few bites of my sausage, pepperoni and mushroom calzone... Too bad. You should have thought about that during the ordering stage. Yes, there's approximately 12 pounds of meat and cheese in front of me, but it's MY 12 pounds of meat and cheese. I will defend my bounty with knife and fork, and if I have exhausted all other options, I will use the spoon.

But I'm trying to get better. So Deborah, I apologize for being a pain in the ass about putting your music onto my iPod for the trip. I was being stupid, and I'm sorry. You can add whatever you want, and I won't complain when songs I don't like are playing. However, I reserve the right to delete all your Tori Amos the moment we get back home.

Tuesday, January 13, 2004

My best TV Guide impression

CHEERS: To the Origami Boulder guy for brilliantly taking advantage of the web. However, if he ever stumbled upon this post, he'd surely berate me and call me a dumb dumb for not buying wadded paper art.

JEERS: To Marty, who is a sell-out pandering for attention.

Eh... that's all I got. I really just wanted to make fun of Marty.

Tuesday, December 23, 2003

Why I moved away from Wisconsin (or "How I Spent My Pre-Christmas Vacation")

Because the airlines wanted $600 from me for flying home over Christmas, I outfoxed them and booked a flight for the weekend before. That has the added benefit of my being home for three days rather than five.

Let me clarify here that I love my family. But there's a reason why I live in South Carolina and they live in the Midwest.

The weekend started well... my flights were on time, the pretzels were uncommonly tasty, the flight attendants were attractive and my iPod was fully charged. Yes, I had a rather large individual spilling over into the left half of my seat... but 'twas only a minor inconvenience.

After landing in Milwaukee, I was at my friend Kelly's apartment on Friday by 11 p.m. Before I left home, she promised me all the midnight bowling I could handle. I was more than ready and could already taste the half-cooked cheesesticks when she greeted me at the door with a hug and a case of strep throat. Despite the lack of pins and balls, we caught up since we hadn't seen each other in over a year.

The next morning I was off to the Cap'n's place. As expected, I was greeted by grumpy grandmas and the curmudgeonly Cap'n, who soon attempted (and failed) to debate me on the effects of Wal-Mart on the American small business owner. Diane and her family came over, and once again Elijah didn't warm up to me right away while Noah wanted to wrestle with me (I managed to defeat the 75-pounder fairly easily). The feast began with Kathy serving up four times as much food as necessary, and then encouraging everyone to eat their body weight in ham.

My friend Ryan came to my rescue Saturday night and we headed off for the bowling I was desperately craving. I quit after Ryan threw seven strikes in a row. My string of 4's and 5's can't compete with that shit.

Sunday had me watching football with the Cap'n. After the Bears astounded everyone by actually winning, the Cap'n mentioned he hadn't been able to download the photos from his digital camera. I figured it would be a snap. I was mistaken. I proceeded to wrestle with what may very well be the most unfriendly and poorly designed software on the planet. As a Mac user forced into a PC environment, I became increasingly frustrated. Once again Ryan rescued me with a trip to the seediest pool hall in Rockford to kill what remained of the night.

The next day I zipped back up to Milwaukee and decided never to fly through Chicago again. I managed to squeeze in an hour at Sarah and Erik's new house in South Milwaukee and ate four hours' worth of chocolate-covered rice krispie treats there.

Despite the increased terror alert, I made it home with no delays and more pretzels, these not as satisfying. However, the baggage toters at Savannah must have taken their hour-long break just as my plane landed, because it was well after midnight before I left that place. Upon arriving home, my cats lovingly greeted me with screeches for food and attempted to gnaw off my feet in their extreme hunger. They probably hadn't eaten in eight hours!!

Now that I'm back in my own home, I can look fondly back at what I gained over the weekend: approximately 15 pounds and a renewed appreciation for my geographical location outside the Midwest.

Tuesday, December 2, 2003

Congratulations...

To Will and Sara on their engagement!

Since I know Will reads this from time to time, may I suggest you hold your ceremony somewhere in the Caribbean? It would be a nice, warm change of pace from Minnesota...

And in fact, Sara just called Debz. She told me the proposal story, which sounded sickeningly romantic.

Congratulations again, you two! I'm going to celebrate by ordering a pizza in your honor!

Edit: This entry has been sanitized for your protection. 1/22/04 - 8:01 p.m.

Thursday, November 27, 2003

Thanksgiving in the South

That means deep-fried turkey, something I'd never heard of until I moved to South Carolina. Of course, I had never heard of the phrase War of Northern Aggression either.

B.J. and Amy were kind enough to host a small Thanksgiving get-together at their place, and they just so happen to own a deep fryer. Compared to roasting a turkey in the oven, the frying process is infinitely more life-threatening. As B.J. jammed the bird into a slightly-too-small fryer filled with boiling oil, the oil overflowed, causing a few tense moments when flames engulfed the lower half of the fryer. Fortunately, things quickly settled back down without the assistance of the local fire marshal. No wonder about 15 homes burn down every Thanksgiving because of the damn things.

It tastes great though, and, if you survive, frying slices hours off cooking times. Frying a turkey apparently does not reduce the amount of tryptophan in the meat. Although never formally declared, nap time began approximately an hour after dessert.

And now that pesky Thanksgiving is over, we can resume the overcommercialization of Christmas! Huzzah!

Sunday, November 23, 2003

Can beer fly?

Nope.

As Marty demonstrated mere seconds after this picture was taken. He found this abandoned and unopened six-pack in a parking lot and decided it might be fun to fling it up in the air. The beer meekly complied with Newton's theories and at least 4 of the 6 cans exploded on impact, spraying beer on all of us as well as the inside and outside of my car, which is gonna smell like beer for weeks.

But Marty did give me Panther when he came down so I won't make him sleep outside in the hammock tonight.

Monday, October 20, 2003

Everything old is new again ... and whatnot

I think this will be the last time I make fun of Debz for adding the phrase "and whatnot" to the end of every other sentence. I'm getting tired of the punching.

My college friend Molly ended up in Savannah last week for some conference, and she crashed at our place over the weekend. We had a blast, and I was heartened to see that, in at least some of us Bushnellers, we may be a little older, but we still laugh at the same stupid crap we did five years ago.

Some of that stupidity included two slices of camp. The first being two so-bad-they're-good B horror movies on DVD. The second was watching a camp full of Cub Scouts tempt fate, fate in this case being an alligator who was getting a tad annoyed at being plunked in the head by the scouts' fishing lines and began sliding toward the shore. But, as is so often the case, the nimrods somehow escaped their well-deserved fate.

I also added commenting to this today. Now the whole world can criticize my ramblings.

Tuesday, October 14, 2003

Homecoming

I was a little nervous about going home for my dad's wedding in Wisconsin this weekend. Visits home always have the potential to be a major disaster. But everything went almost perfectly. The weather for the wedding, which was outside at Beckman Mill near Beloit, was beautiful, and the ceremony went off without too much weeping on my dad's part.

The flights were on time. They gave me a Mustang for the car rental. My one-year-old nephew Elijah reversed his earlier position and decided he likes me. I spent a good amount of time with Sarah, Erik and Ryan. I saw a bunch of aunts, uncles and cousins I rarely see. I walked around the Beloit campus during the height of the fall colors.

I guess the only thing I can complain about is that the Bears lost on Sunday. But that wasn't exactly a surprise. Then the Packers lost a few minutes later and all was right in the world again.

Thursday, October 9, 2003

Ok, now it's starting to feel weird

Up until today, I never really gave my dad's wedding this Sunday much thought. But all of a sudden, I realize I'm about to have two step-sisters I've seen once and a step-brother I've never met. Not to mention a new step-mother in Kathy. That's a little strange. But it's pretty exciting too, even though I live a couple thousand miles away and will rarely see any of them.

My dad called a couple nights ago to ask about my transportation and lodging plans and all that, and he even enlisted my help to plan Saturday night's meal (I lobbied for pizza; he decided on KFC). However, he neglected to mention that my grandma was in the hospital having a shunt placed in her heart. Fortunately, the procedure was successful and everything turned out great. But dad, heart surgery on a family member... this is the type of thing you should probably fill me in on from now on... whaddaya say??

Tuesday, October 7, 2003

A Beloit College education put to work

I watch The Daily Show with Jon Stewart almost every night. It's funny, and it's usually a hell of a lot more informative than a lot of "serious" news programs. That's why I watch it. I certainly don't watch to catch people I know being interviewed. But that's what happened on Monday's show.

This dude Ryan Clancy and I worked together on the student newspaper at Beloit College. I used to drive him to Milwaukee so he could visit a sperm bank, and in return, he'd let me jump on his trampoline at his mom's place for a while. I was easily amused.

Anyway, tonight I'm watching The Daily Show, and they've interviewed him for one of their fake correspondent pieces. I almost fell off the bed. Apparently he went to Iraq to be a human shield, and when he came back, the U.S. guvmint fined him $10K for illegally traveling to an unauthorized country. In all honesty, it wasn't one of the funnier pieces they've done, but still, how often is someone you personally know made fun of by one of your favorite TV shows?

Tuesday, September 23, 2003

Beloit blues

It's been ages since I talked -- I mean really talked -- to any of my friends from college. But there was a double dose tonight as Molly called and talked about her upcoming visit to Savannah (and weekend stay with us) next month.

Then we talked to Marty for about 2 hours. Damn, I miss the fuzzy mop-head, even if he isn't a fuzzy mop-head anymore. We might have even convinced him to overcome his southophobia and visit this fall.

And for the first time since graduation six years ago (holy shit... SIX???), I kind of wish I was back at ol' Bel-wah.

Sunday, August 10, 2003

The morning after

As I write this, most of my friends down here are recovering from Vicki's birthday party we had at our place last night. Chris, especially, is likely regretting the massive amounts of beer he drank. He's also probably feeling the effects of something called a tequila boom that he discovered on the dock last night from the Russian kids staying next door. I have a feeling the tequila boom is a trick he won't be rushing to repeat any time soon.

I, on the other hand, get the fun task of hauling two bags of trash, one bucket of cans and two buckets of bottles to the dump in a few minutes.

Happy birthday, Vicki. Enjoy your slow march to senility.

Wednesday, July 9, 2003

10/12/2003

Mark your calendars, folks... my dad has set Oct. 12 as the end of his mercifully brief bachelorhood. The big question... will his palate be able to overcome its complete dependence on Spaghetti-os? So now, in addition to having to come up with something for Deborah's birthday that day, I also have to scour the ends of the earth for a wedding present for the Cap'n.

Apparantly, they set the date awhile ago, and dad just forgot to let me know. He also told me I didn't have to come to the wedding if I didn't want to. Like I'm not going to go to my father's wedding, even if it is 1500 miles away.

I just wish the Cap'n had taken that kind of casual attitude when I was a kid and the lawn needed to be mowed.

Wednesday, June 25, 2003

The Cap'n landed a First Mate

My dad (the Cap'n) called me tonight. He begins his conversation with this sentence: "Hi son. I'm getting married."

This simple declaration almost makes me crap my pants. I'm told that was the prospective bride's reaction as well. Gotta give the old man credit for this one; no one saw this coming.

I'm really happy for them because the two of them make each other so happy. I'm just astounded that the guy managed to find a woman who's not completely off her rocker. Kathy's a little bit off hers, but in a good way.

They haven't made any firm plans (they haven't even found a ring yet). He wants to jet off to the Caribbean and get married by themselves; she wants a big traditional wedding with all the extras in their hometown in Illinois. Guess I'll be looking for the best fares into O'Hare again soon.

This is how it went down (as described by Kathy): They were walking down the street and all of a sudden, he started getting fidgety and began sweating more than usual. He suddenly grabs her hand, squeezes it painfully hard, and quickly asks her to marry him. She denies that she squealed too loudly, but I think she probably did. Dad looks over at some random woman watering her flowers a few yards away and yells, "Hey! Guess what I just did?!? I asked this lady here to marry me!" The woman is apparently a little off-put by this, stumbles out a congratulations and wanders inside.

All this AND a free pizza tonight. Christ, I don't think my heart can handle any more excitement. Or cholesterol.

Sunday, June 15, 2003

Yo dad!

Happy Father's Day, Cap'n!