Required listening (if it really happened)

DC radio has become so terrible that I listened to C-SPAN radio for a portion of my drive home tonight. Even though I can't find any proof on the C-SPAN website I swear that I listened to a Minor Candidate Republican Debate. It was fantastic. Way more interesting than any of the real presidential debates. Some highlights:

• The first candidate I heard was discussing states rights. He was approximately as well spoken as a ninth grade. I actually wondered why C-SPAN was airing a (bad) high school debate match.
• One of the candidates managed to dismiss both states rights and (whatever is the opposite of states rights) in the same answer. Say what you will about political double speak, but it is rare when a candidate nullifies his own answer in the same breath.
• Easily the best answer of the evening, and the reason for this post, was the Boy Scout answer. The candidates (there were maybe 8 of them) were asked what kind of people they would nominate to the Supreme Court. One of the candidates said he would only nominate a Boy Scout. Not a metaphorical Boy Scout, but a literal Boy Scout. It would seem that they are taught a moral code consistent with the legal philosophy espoused by this particular candidate.
  

Seriously. This is why "minor" candidates should get more coverage. Who wants to hear "real" candidates prattle on about judicial temperament when all that needs to be said is "Scout*."

* This is not at all intended to be a sleight towards Scouting. It is fully intended to be a sleight towards this particular politician.

Best music from 2007

Since I have 8 readers or so each day (I'm losing audience faster than most TV shows, and my writing staff isn't on strike), I feel like that is the appropriate number of albums to include in my first annual "8 best albums I bought this year." Unlike many other music lists I am including everything I purchased in 2007, whether it was released this year or not.

In no particular order:*

• Arcade Fire, Neon Bible: Best live act who isn't U2 or Springfield or Zeppelin
  
• Wilco, Sky Blue Sky: This convinced me to go and buy most of their older work, which I love
  
• The National, Boxer: Still not a great live act, but they put out great records.
  
• Okkervil River, Stage Names: My favorite find of the year.
  
• Jay-Z, American Gangster: At times the parallels to the movie are overdone, but whatever it takes to motivate Jigga to make good music again after the Kingdom Come fiasco.
  
• Nas, Illmatic: Yeah, I know, it was released in 1994 and is widely recognized as the greatest rap album of all time.
• Radiohead, In Rainbows: It feels weird not calling this my favorite album of the year. It's absolutely incredible music, but it sounds like it's been in my collection for a decade, which makes it hard to believe it came out last month.
  
• LCD Soundsystem, Sound of Silver: The only record where every track has stayed on my iPod shuffle all year long. I almost want to dance when listening. Almost.
  

That's actually 9. Deal with it. Others in the running: Kanye West (Graduation), Jose Gonzalez (In Our Nature), Caribou (Andorra), M.I.A. (Kala), Feist (The Reminder), Clinic (Visitations).

* Because I can't figure out how to make Blogger count down instead of up

Not all that deceiving, really

I decided to go driving last weekend. Ostensibly I wanted to get some highway miles on my car to see if there was some reason I was getting 12 mpg, but I also thought it would be fun to see what's north of Seattle. Each mile farther north I go becomes the farthest north I've been in North America. I ended up driving to Bellingham (home of Western Washington U), but it was too rainy to bother walking around to see if there was anything interesting to, um, see.

On my way back south I drove onto Fidalgo Island and Whidbey Island and to the bridge between them at Deception Pass. I had heard that it was a pretty neat setting. I think the pictures seem to validate that:

Here's my problem with Deception Pass: it really isn't very deceptive. Apparently it was so named because the narrow straight fooled people into thinking that Whidbey Island was really Whidbey Peninsula. Or because Deception Island blocked the view of the pass from the ocean and deceived people into thinking the pass was really a bay. Take a look at the island.


Are you confused? Why do idiots from the 1700s get to name everything just because they were first?

A ruined post

A couple of weekends ago I went to see the UW/Pitt basketball game. The UW arena is a nice little gym that reminds everyone of Cameron, only with no sense of history or awe. What was memorable about the game for me was that our seats were row 2, mid court. This is how the 2nd half started:

There's no zoom on that shot. They were just that close. It was pretty cool.

Anyways, the blog post is ruined because Pitt, after surviving a last second scare against UW, beat Duke tonight. During the game my friends (also Duke alums) and I observed that Pitt, while not great, is exactly the kind of team that would give Duke fits. They're big, slow, and rebound like crazy. Spurs vs. Suns.

I will give the UW fans some credit, as they made several "taser" cheers when the Pitt point guard shot free throws. It would seem he got tased, bro, this summer back in Pittsburgh. Taser or not, the guy is pretty clutch; he reminds me of Khalid El-Amin (fat, Duke-killer). He beat Duke on a crazy 3-pointer tonight, and made some tough free throws at the end of the UW game. I even had a picture of one:

Back on the horse

It probably isn't right to say that I'm 100% back, but I feel largely recovered from the little incident that happened a few weeks ago. My insurance company should be cutting me a check for most of my loss and I'm not afraid to walk past the scene of the crime at night any more (but I still cab back when necessary; my boss also is terrified that I might start riding the bus again).

Two things remain unresolved.

1. The HOA of the condo I live in gave me the bill for the locks on the front and back doors ($450!), along with the most stereotypically passive-aggressive email talking about how many residents were inconvenienced because they only got two free keys, and some people had collected more than two keys prior to the lock change. I declined to write a screed discussing the relative inconvenience of having a gun pointed at you while being relieved of nearly $1000 worth of stuff. I also declined to leave a steaming bag of poo on everyone's doorstep. Luckily my landlord is being cool and has told the HOA to shove it.
2. I've received lots of emails about whether I recovered the number of the girl I met prior to getting jacked. I did. Nothing to report, however, even if there were that stuff isn't going on the blog. Personal stuff and work stuff are for emails and phone calls. That said, I think my crazy officemate is leaving the company, and at that point I'll be able to share some fascinating stories. Not quite like the guy I worked with in Texas who torched his hotel and then torched our office, but close.

Breaking the silence

I don't know how professional bloggers do it. I guess the key is to have a topic to write about other than yourself, because even the most interesting person doesn't have that much stuff going on in their life to make a post a day. I really do try and keep a log of things that might make good blog posts. You know what the list was today before I erased it?

• I really like pomegranate juice
• Despite blogging about my love for baby carrots I've recently switched back to full size carrots
• I'm reading a 1000 page novel that has 300 end notes, and some of the end notes (ranging from 1 word to 6 pages) even have end notes. Unfortunately I will not finish it before traveling home for Christmas, so I'll have to take it with me. It makes me wish I had a Kindle.*

Seriously. That is AWFUL material. Which is why I haven't written anything. I've got some stuff that should get posted before I head back East on Saturday.

* Speaking of the Kindle, I actually got to play with one a few weeks before it launched. It really is godawful ugly compared to an iPod, but it's surprisingly ergonomic, and the screen is just great. If you have $400 and do a lot of traveling, I highly recommend.

It's not all rain. Just mostly rain.

This was my grill on Saturday afternoon. When it was all said and done there was probably an inch of accumulation on most surfaces downtown, with a lot more snow out in the burbs (which are hundreds of feet above Seattle).

Of course the snow melted pretty quickly and was replaced by an ungodly amount of rain. Like 10" in 24 hours within 20 miles of where I sit right now. They've closed I-5 for at least 3 days between Olympia and Portland. If this were a real part of the world, that would be like closing I-95 between Baltimore and Philadelphia. The Seattle Times has some really good photos (can't link directly, but you're smart, figure it out.)

My life as a season ticket holder

I live about 8 blocks from Key Arena, home to the Seattle (Super)Sonics. If you are a basketball fan you know that Seattle has made its mark on this basketball season in two ways:

1. It managed to draft Kevin Durant, supposedly half of the pair of 19 year olds who are going to save professional basketball.
2. It's the only NBA team to have the owner suing the city and threatening to take the team to Oklahoma City, and the only NBA host city to be countersuing the owner of its basketball franchise.

This, of course, sets the stage for a fantastic season. Young team, two-time failed head coach who is mainly known for being choked by one of his own players, and an ownership group investing $0.00 in the franchise... How could I not get involved?

I managed to find a pretty great deal on a 25 game plan: $25 per ticket for lower bowl seats, kind of behind and above one of the baskets. Key Arena may be old, and may not have enough corporate boxes to keep the franchise in business, but it is a fantastic venue to watch a game. I picked out my 25 games to maximize weekends and games against Duke players (easier to do these days).

I've always been a sports fan (Orioles, Redskins, Duke basketball, Wizards/Bullets), but it has never been convenient enough to get to sporting events to warrant any sort of season ticket purchase, so I've never really been able to see the progression of a team with my own eyes. I can tell you this after 5 games: I can see how being a beat writer wouldn't be a great deal of fun. To be sure, the games I've attended have all been close, with the Sonics being tied for or in the lead in the last couple of minutes.

Unfortunately they've lost all 5 of those games.

And the two other games they've played at home.

And seven of the nine games they've played away from home.

Since I don't have anything invested in the team I don't care that much; I've been able to see pretty fantastic teams (Suns, Jazz, Pistons, Spurs, Nets), and at some point I've got to believe that the team will get better, because they actually don't have very bad talent. But if the momentum builds for the team to leave for OKC I could see the 2nd half of the season being pretty brutal, especially after Durant and Jeff Green realize they are moving to the 44th largest TV market in the country where it is 200 degrees in the shade in summer. (I don't know this to be true, but I figure OKC has to kind of be like Dallas, which mean it has to kind of be like the worst place in America.)

What's likely to be way more entertaining than the basketball is the row of seats behind me. They seem to be reserved for the 2nd tier friends and family of the opposing team. On opening night there were a bunch of kids who were "DJ's cousin". It took me the entire game to realize they meant "DJ Strawberry", and I would have gladly bet $250 that he couldn't possibly be an NBA player. (Turns out that bet would be a loser.) Against the Nets some guy walked in with a 3" in diameter piece of diamond-encrusted jewelry. In the center read "#21", encircled by "The Truth." Turns out Antoine Wright is The Truth. Unless there is another 21 I don't know about.

Anyways, in honor of the best sports blogger in the land, I'll keep bringing you updates on the friends and family of 2nd tier players for the Sonics opposition. Not a full time job, but a job nonetheless.

Let me breathe!

I've been fighting off a head cold for the past three days. It sucks. But you know would make it a lot better?

A raging crystal meth epidemic.

You may have noticed that in the past couple of years cold medicine has either A) gone behind the counter or B) become completely worthless. Thanks to lawmakers like mine, pseudoephedrine has largely disappeared from the shelves of drugstores across America. In some places, like Washington State, you have to go to a pharmacist to get the good stuff. In others, like South Carolina, you just have to sign some forms and show a drivers license.

Well, here's why I'd rather deal with meth heads running around my neighborhood*: phenylephrine, the most popular replacement in NyQuil, Sudafed, etc, must be a fancy chemical word for "sugar pill." Seriously. It does absolutely nothing. I rummaged around my stash of old drugs and found some Advil Cold & Sinus from 2005. It had well since expired. But you know what? It had psedoephedrine. Guess who was able to breath for 4-5 hours?

This guy.

* Given recent happenings in my current neighborhood and former neighborhood, I'm not sure the addition of a healthy meth scene could do a lot of harm.

The real villians

Well, the post below this was going to be my last word on the "event", but I feel I have a legitimate screed to launch into.

All told, the folks who jacked me made off with $80 in cash, $100 in free range balls, $58 on my debit card, an iPod shuffle, some nice headphones, a cheap pair of sunglasses, my work laptop, a bluetooth headset, and a BlackBerry Pearl. Pretty nice for 30 seconds of work, even if the phone and laptop are largely worthless. I've been told that renters insurance may actually cover some of the other losses, which would be strangely fantastic.

But this is where Verizon steps in and pisses on my shoe while telling me it's raining (sorry mom and grandmoms, that's just the best phrase for what is happening). Since I didn't buy the insurance on my new phone Verizon is requiring that I pay full retail price for a replacement phone. They just renewed my contract (locking me in for 2 years) 10 days ago, so I am ineligible for any of the deals they offer. I phone I got for $150 (actually, $50 after some other rebates) will cost me $425. I didn't look very closely, but most phones have retail prices well north of $300. The guy at the store today told me I might have some luck finding something on eBay.

$425. The Verizon guys didn't even bother to show me the gun, they just flat out held me up.

To put this into perspective, here's how dumb this is: I can currently get a brand new BlackBerry Curve for -$50 through Amazon.com. Sure, I have to pay $175 to end my contract with Verizon, but do the math. $425 to stay with Verizon. $125 to leave them. You've got to love corporate policies that encourage customer attrition.

Please add Verizon to the list of companies that are now dead to me.

Moving on

It's weird to be freaked out about your own neighborhood. I'm definitely still a bit skittish walking around in the dark near my apartment, which is a problem because it is legitimately dark around 4:50pm. I've been able to walk from my apartment to other places past the scene of the crime a couple of times, but I haven't been able to fully retrace my steps in the dark. Obviously this is the type of thing that takes time... it's all much better than Wednesday night when I walked back from picking up my mail (at 7:05 pm) and needed to drink about a bottle and a half of wine to calm down.

In general I don't think I'm naturally very good at this type of "recovery." The only comparable incident in my past is when I got in a big wreck while racing go-karts. I was a really good driver at that point (especially on that day); arguably I was better at that than anything else I've ever done or tried in life. Anyways, I got in a big wreck and my confidence pretty much never returned. I was able to get out and compete, and even won a few races after the accident, but I wasn't a tenth of the driver I was before the wreck.

Walking around my neighborhood brings back a lot of the same memories I had when I started racing again. I know that there isn't anyone waiting to jack me, much like I knew that I could take certain corners flat out or out-brake certain drivers. But before the wreck/mugging there was no counter knowledge; how could I be afraid of consequences if I didn't know what they were? Now I know the consequences, and even though the probability of them occurring are as minuscule as before, they loom much larger in my head.

So what do I do? In the short term, I give a spare set of keys to my friends and I drive to and from work (I also am sans bus pass, so this isn't as reactionary as it sounds) and I cab home on weekends rather than walking. Nothing life changing. I'll be curious how I react once I start back to the gym next week... I was so comfortable before that I would walk home from the gym with my iPod playing. Obviously that won't be the case any more.

Lastly, thanks to everyone who has sent me a note of encouragement. I'm obviously blessed to have lasted 30 years with no real exposure to street crime (I have no idea how 100% of soldiers don't come back from combat with PTSD), but I'm more blessed to have you all as friends. Holla.

As promised, the mother of all blog posts

(Part 1 of several. Maybe a touch melodramatic, but written in relative real-time.)

For me the peace and serenity of Seattle ended on Tuesday, November 20 at 8:05 PST. I was walking (nearly running) back to my apartment; I was in a rush because I was supposed to meet a friend to return some things that had been left in my apartment. I was also in a rush because I had come from watching Duke play Illinois in Maui, and when I had left the bar with my friends the Illini had started a bit of a rally.

As per normal I walked down Mercer Street and turned up 4th Ave West. That's my favorite street to walk up in my neighborhood because at the top of the street is a gorgeous apartment building that I love to look at. I turned on to Roy and started the final stretch to my apartment at 5th W and Roy. There were a couple of guys walking the other way on Roy, but otherwise the street was empty. I was wholly focused on getting back in a hurry, as my friend had already called to inform me he was waiting.

Which is why I was pretty surprised when I noticed that after passing the two guys one of them immediately turned around.

Which is why I was really surprised when he pulled out a gun*, told me to turn around, and told me to give him everything.

Luckily my body responded faster than my brain, and I turned around and raised my arms and lifted off my messenger bag. While I performed this split-second pirouette I saw a glint of light off something in the bigger guys hand. It clicked.

The guy without the gun* started to frisk me and try and get my wallet. He succeeded. He got my cell phone. The big guy with the gun kept saying "Give me everything", and its possible that I mumbled something like "that's everything." It was the truth. It was everything.

Having successfully relieved me of many of my portable worldly possessions and a good deal of my street confidence the two culprits took off down Roy Street, turning right on 4th Ave West. It would seem they passed somewhere near my KFC before making their way to Fremont and points beyond.

My journey was much shorter. After they turned the corner I ran towards my apartment to find my friend John and his girlfriend waiting. I blabbered something like "I just got jacked" and John, having lived in DC, immediately dialed 911. I was on the phone at 8:07, maybe 60 seconds after the event. I described what had happened, what I could remember of the culprits, where I was, etc etc etc. It took five minutes or so for the first squad car to arrive. I repeated my descriptions and pointed to the location again. I first officer told me that they were sending a K-9 unit to see if they could pick up a trail, but she seriously doubted it would do much good, as there had already been ample time to escape.

A second officer arrived on scene and proceeded to... chill. After a while the first officer said "Hey, maybe you should just cruise around to see if you see anything." Duh. The K-9 officer arrived and I recounted my tale a third time, although the details were starting to sharpen and blur simultaneously in my mind. The K-9 officer seemed reasonably satisfied, got the dog, and took off. He was gone for a while; we tracked his progress over the radio, hence we knew he was near KFC. At this point I was sitting in the first officer's car (well, the back seat) because it's freezing right now in Seattle. Cold and dangerous. And dry. Three things I wasn't expecting. Another officer arrived on the scene, seemingly someone of higher rank than the others. For a fourth time I retold my story, and for a fourth time the listener seemed disappointed with what I could tell them. Apparently it is key to remember what colors your assailants are wearing when you are held at gunpoint at night on a dark street. My bad.

Eventually whatever scent the dog had went cold and they started searching for my stuff, most likely a discarded bag and an empty wallet. I can't imagine they'll find it. The officer gave me a card with my case number. It took me a while to figure out what to do. I counted my assets: a friends cellphone, a cop's business card, a sharp mind. I counted my liabilities: no keys, no identification, no phone numbers for anyone I know, no coin of the realm, a mind clouded by the shock of the situation. I was pretty close to declaring situational bankruptcy.

I decided the biggest problem to solve was that of shelter. I knew my neighbors kept some sort of master key to the building, so they would probably be able to let me into my apartment. But then there was the fact that I didn't have a key to my building... hmm. Luckily as I approached the front door there was a fellow resident standing there. I knocked on the door and he looked at me reluctantly. After opening the door I explained what happened and showed him the officer's business card. Success! Return on assets = infinity. I made my way upstairs and knocked on my neighbors door. After some machinations (involving 90 year old ladies and some debate over whether I have some sort of magical master key) I was able to get into my apartment and arrange for new locks to be installed tomorrow.

At this point I sat down and ate a significant chunk of a candy bar. It was fantastic.

Luckily I have been paying $21.85/month for local phone service that I never use, and so I was able to call can cancel all of my credit and ATM cards. Sadly, the programmer for the lost and stolen card VRU (voice response unit) at Citibank hasn't realized that when people are calling that number they likely don't have their card number handy, since otherwise they wouldn't be calling that number. Eventually I found a way around that block, but it was the closest I came to losing my patience all night. When I canceled my debit card I found out that my antifriends had made their way to Fremont, as there was a $1 auth sitting on the card. This means they bought gas. Funny to think they chose my debit card as opposed to my other cards. I'd say I have about 4x the open-to-buy via credit as opposed to debit. But they had a gun*, so they could spend my/their money accordingly. Helpfully, the BofA rep told me that I would be credited with any money that followed the $1 auth on Thursday, even though Thursday is Thanksgiving. Way to go BofA.

With the financial accounts settled (no shopping for me on Black Friday) I called Verizon. The dual mini-tragedies of this episode have to do with my phone. First, I bought a new Blackberry last Sunday. I loved it, but it is gone. Second, on that phone was the number of a pretty cool girl I met this past Saturday. I was supposed to call her on Tuesday night, but sadly, that number is gone as well. At some point I will get my monthly bill from Verizon that contains her number and I will see if she believes that I was actually robbed at gun*point. On the positive front, I realized that I still had my old phone sitting around, waiting to be donated to someone in need. I declared myself "in need". The Verizon rep was able to reactivate it, so now I have telephony and the numbers of everyone I know. Except the girl. Subtract most of a liability. Add two assets. Things were looking up.

At this point I had finished watching Duke win (on TiVo), which was surprisingly reassuring. I surfed the InterWebs for a while and found some crime stats. They aren't surprising. My old district in DC had 8800 major crimes reported in 2006. My census tract in Seattle had 700. If you expand my census track to include everywhere I actually go in Seattle that number runs up to 3900. If you look only at robberies then DC's 3rd district maintained a 1095 to 220 edge. I was never touched in DC. This is why I'm freaked out.

I've written all of this because I'm not sure if I'll be able to sleep tonight (eventually sleep fell on top of me around 3:00). Technically my antifriends have my address and my keys, so if they wanted I guess they could come back for a visit. I don't actually believe that will happen. They seemed to young to do that. But they did have a gun*, so I've wedged my armchair in the entry nook.


The last time I felt this jumpy at night was when a roach crawled across my pillow in my new apartment in DC.

Another asset! While rummaging through my desk I realized that I actually have some coin of the realm. I've never closed my Capital One card, so it will now enter the fray along with my Discover card, who's sole purpose in life is to refill my Starbucks card. Armed with credit, Americans, myself included, are unstoppable.

So this is where I will finally sign off. I'm safe. The rest really doesn't matter.

* I say my antifriends had a gun. There's a nonzero chance that whatever they had wasn't a gun. The one guy was definitely pointing something at me. It definitely reflected what little light there was. It clicked. These would seem to indicate a gun, but along with almost everything about the situation I don't really know. The click sounded like plastic. Could it have been a toy? Sure. But do I know? Not really. I can't even say for sure what the guys were wearing even though I was thinking "remember what these guys are wearing" when the whole thing went down. I can totally see how eyewitness accounts are a joke; I told the officer that I could probably identify one of the guys if he walked in front of me, but if he was in a lineup of similar looking dudes, well, no chance. I notice everything about people except their names. Obviously names weren't an issue here. The gun* was.

The mother of all blog posts

It's coming. Maybe Wednesday. Definitely Thursday. Be prepared.

I am less popular than freak dancing

According to the Googles I've had 1801 visitors to my blog since May 26, which is an average of 10.7 visits a day. I'm proud of this, as I figure having 10 friends/family members bored enough to read my blog on a regular basis is a pretty good sign.

You know what is WAY more popular than my blog?

Huan's freak dance interview video on the YouTubes. I posted it on May 26, and it has had 33,542 views since then. Which, if my math isn't awful, is 200 views a day. Or 20x as popular as my blog.

There may be some changes around here.

I'm a sucker for good dressers

I'm not a marketer, but I'm pretty sure that dressing up monkeys like people is always successful. Spend 90 seconds watching these clips and tells me I'm wrong.



That's really just an excuse to post the monkey ads. And this is just an excuse to post a link to cute baby pictures. Check out my vote for Baby of the Year, Jackson Weinstein.

The worst business idea ever

There haven't been a whole lot of variations on the pizza joint. As best I can tell, they fall into one of the following categories:

• Eat-in: Pizza Hut, Pizzeria Uno's, etc
• Delivery: Domino's, Papa John's
• Take-out: Little Caesar's

What do each of this establishments have in common? They all serve you a cooked pizza. It's possible they have other value propositions, but in general you patrionize one of these establishments because you want to eat a pizza without preparing a pizza. Which is why I'm not sure I understand what Papa Murphy's is all about. They are the 5th largest pizza chain in the US.

And they cook exactly zero pizzas a year.

Yes, they do "take-and-bake"pizza. So in case you really want pizza, but you don't want to let other people cook your pizza, call Papa Murphy's. They'll whip something up in a jiffy, so as soon as you get home and preheat the oven and wait another 15 minutes, you can have a fresh pie.

What am I missing? I know the chain is based in Canada, so maybe this is some weird north-of-the-border thing, but how does a place that performs the least valuable part of the pizza value chain end up with 1000 stores?

You say Camano, I say Camino

My friend Chris has decided that he is into birding. On a Seattle scale this is not all that strange. Nor is it strange given that my roommate once decided he was into mushrooming. So when Chris called me up and asked if I had any plans this afternoon I decided to take the plunge and see what Camano Island had to offer.

I imagine that the first rule of birding is something like "Do no harm." We pretty much broke that within 30 seconds of arriving on Camano Island. Chris, Sarah, and I went to the first site suggested by the InterWebs. We saw three pheasants wandering around. They ran away from us. Into a big field that was full of hunters with dogs and shotguns. Not wanting to hang out near hunters we went on to another location, but it's hard to imagine that those three pheasants aren't cooked/stuffed right now. Sad. They were pretty.

Our second stop was on the north side of the island at the English Boom Preserve. With a name like "preserve" you would suspect there would be birds. You would be incorrect. We saw nothing. Not even a gull hanging out over the water. Not even a duck. The only three heartbeats belonged to Chris, Sarah, and I. It was pretty, though.


The feeling of deja vu was strong, only I was coming up zeros with birds rather than mushrooms. Hmm. We left for Site #3.

"Stop! Wild turkeys!"


Sure enough, we saw about 10 wild turkeys hanging out in a yard. We assume they were being fed by the homeowners, and we assume they aren't going to be alive in a couple weeks. Still, turkeys are underrated in terms of birds. They're quite pretty.

Site #3 (Iverson Spit Preserve Trail) was slightly more promising in that we could see actual birds. We didn't see a lot of birds, nor did we see birds that weren't part of the family "birdus genericus", but we saw live birds that weren't about to be killed. I would share pictures at this point, but one thing I did learn in my 4 hour birding adventure is that pocket cameras are worthless. Well, not worthless; they take great pictures of your friend taking pictures with his 100-400mm lens.



With the sun setting quickly we rushed to our last stop of the day: a state park on the southwest side of the island. The scenery was gorgeous (unfortunately clam season is closed, otherwise there could have been clamming in addition to birding). I got my best bird shot of the day. Sadly, my little camera could capture nary a feather of the giant bald eagle we saw (Chris got good pics, which you can see here). They really are amazing birds; we didn't see this one fly but even from a couple of hundred feet below its perch you could sense the power and size of the bird. I still like Ben Franklin's idea to have the turkey be the national bird, but the bald eagle is a strong second choice. We also may have seen a marble something-or-other.


Or, it may have been a log. 12x digital zoom = worthless.

The fruitless mushroom hunting trip was softened by the fact that I could buy morels in a grocery story. A no-bird birding trip would have been a blow to the ego. Luckily the eagle saved us, and the scenery was tough to beat.

More posts on the way

I have few more posts written, but I'm going to try and space them out over the week so that there is always fresh content. In the meantime, here are some pictures from the Suns/Sonics game last Thursday. I'm now a season ticket holder, which I'll discuss in a future post.

Closing the loop on Dr. Ryan

All the data are in. I have no idea what to do.

I made my third visit to the House of Comedic Dentistry a week ago Thursday for my cleaning. Obviously the good doctor wasn't there, as he was in Belize getting hammered on rum drinks, so it was just me and my hygienist. This was not the ditzy hygienist who kept apologizing for messing up during my previous visits, this was a very nice woman named Camilla who used to live in DC and with whom I pleasantly bonded during my first visit.

Anyhoo, the short and long story is that I have no story. She cleaned my teeth, did a little extra work, gave me a toothbrush and floss when I left... it was exactly what you expect from a dental visit. She's comforting and funny, which makes her the exact opposite of everyone else in the office.

So now the question is whether I return. The popular opinion is that I need to get out of there as soon as possible. And if I thought I would have to interact with the dentist I would agree. But as I think about the dentist/patient relationship, well, there isn't much of one. It's all about the hygienist. That's who you spend time with. And to date my hygienist has not made a joke about being drunk or brought unannounced strangers into the room or gotten upset when I paused a procedure. She's a keeper.

The verdict will remain out. I have a follow up visit in December, and that will probably be the tiebreaker. Maybe Belize will calm the good Doctor down.

Turns out that Dr. Ryan is a "diva"

I had my second trip to the dentist today. As you'll remember I was a bit weirded out by the first trip, and I walked into the office with more uncertainty about the outcome of the procedures than I've felt before, at least in a dental setting. To begin with, I wasn't really sure what the procedure was going to be... of my two appointments this week one was for a cleaning, and the other was to replace my silver fillings with something newer.

Turns out that today was filling replacement day, so I'm still a bit sore as I write this. I don't think that soreness has anything to do with the skill (or lack thereof) of Dr. Ryan, but I still can't say that he's an inspiring dentist.

To be sure, my bar for dentistry is quite high. I was only able to go to the best dentist in the world two or three times, but she left an impression. Dr. Mona Nashid (I think) was my mom's dentist when I had outgrown my pediatric dentist. I remember my last trip to Dr. Nashid was a week before I left for the Atlanta Olympics. She's the only dentist I know that stopped the procedure to administer more novocaine after I flinched; I hadn't even requested it, but she was so empathetic towards pain that she made doubly sure her patients felt as little as possible. She looked like she would cry if I walked out in pain. There's no debate: empathy for pain is the #1 skill I want in a dentist.

And Dr. Ryan is still working on it. He's a guy, which puts him somewhat behind the 8-ball, but he showed some signs today. With that, here's the bulleted report:

• His sense of humor continues to be bad. He made a joke about me complimenting the background music that insinuated that if I hadn't liked the music that I would "pay for it."
  
• The first filling was replaced without incident, but as he started to drill the second one I definitely felt some pain. I gave him the "pain" signal and he gave me another shot of novocaine. Now, this was the same thing that Dr. Nashid did, but she never seemed perturbed about interrupting the procedure. Dr. Ryan seemed put out to have to pause for 5 minutes. Not encouraging.
• During the 5 minute pause the hygienist called him a diva. Since my mouth looked a lot like a bass that's been jerked out of pond I couldn't really dig deeper, but this isn't an encouraging sign.
• What I felt like all day:
• I did find out that I am younger than Dr. Ryan. I talked about remembering the music video for Europe's The Final Countdown. He said this aged me, and asked how old I was. I answered "30" and he said he was older than that. My hygienist piped up that she was 24, and it was her iPod that was playing.
• There were no fewer than three instances when the hygienist had to ask Dr. Ryan how to do something, which makes me think she's had her job for about three weeks. Again, there's nothing inherently wrong about that, but it makes me long for my previous hygienist who alternately told me that I looked too young to be taken seriously in business, and said I was getting old when she spotted a few gray hairs.
• Last time I reported the good Dr. was hurrying me along so that he and the staff could get to happy hour. This time he was hurrying me along so that he could go to Belize and drink a lot. Actual quote. Also told me he drank a lot the previous weekend. Not encouraging.
• Lastly, and easily the creepiest thing going on was the mystery 3rd person in the room. There was some dude who hung around for my entire procedure looking over the doctor's shoulder. No one ever told me who he was, or what he was doing. I heard that he was 23 years old, and when he asked a question about how to do something Dr. Ryan kind of told him to shut up. A student? A recently hired hygienist? A homeless dude?
  

So we're not quite at prognosis negative, but we're close. I go in for my cleaning on Thursday, and hopefully I'll get the first hygienist I met, who seemed to be the adult in the office. I'll get the scoop from her. Or, I won't and I'll find a new dentist in the Spring.

Dear Zucchini

Dear Zucchini (and onion) --

I do not have the patience to wait for you to release your liquid. I know the recipe says to turn down the heat so that you cook without browning, but what progress does that show? Obviously browning is a sign of cooking progress. If there is no browning, how am I to tell if there is any progress being made? This seems like a cruel trick... if I just turn up the heat won't everything just finish sooner?

Would someone call the Councils a cab

Seattle politics really aren't that exciting. When I moved here 9 months ago there was a bizarre referendum on how to replace the Alaskan Viaduct (always sweet to have a road closed every six months to see if it's going to fall down). The winner, I'm not joking, was None of the Above. But the scandals are starting to get mildly interesting. The Mayor's son was arrested for being a dirty card dealer or something. And it seems like the various councils in the area are populated with frat boys and sorority girls:

1. A King County councilwoman was arrested for DUI in June.
2. A Seattle City councilwoman was arrested for DUI last week.
3. Another Seattle City councilman was arrested for assaulting his wife, while drunk.

Of course, all of this falls under the category of "alleged" crimes. It's nothing compared to my Mayor 4 Life Marion Berry, but it's better than nothing.

My dentist prefers that you call him Ryan

Technically he introduced himself as Dr Ryan, but I'm pretty sure that I could get away with Ryan. You see, it turns out that my criteria of "closest to my apartment" when search for a dentist out here has led me into the new age of dentistry. Some might call it the New Face of Dentistry. (Seriously, click the link.)

Frankly, it's too early to tell whether I like the new face or the old face of dentistry. I'll be honest: we pretty much accomplished nothing during my first visit. There was a lot of chatting with the hygienist (who used to live in DC, has a husband who knew HBS and Duke people), lots of x-rays taken (and re-taken), and only a few minutes looking at my teeth. There wasn't even a cleaning. For a few minutes it felt like I was getting an estimate on car work, and then, in fact, I got an estimate. Or will, whenever the "encrypted email" arrives.

Since I have no fewer than three more appointments before the end of the year, here are my thoughts about what the future holds:

1. I'm fairly concerned by the website. First, the whole patient/guest thing is dumb. Guess what: one is not a guest if one requires local anesthetic on a visit. Second, look at the website again. Specifically, try and read this. While it's nice to be recognized with Capital Letters, I'd really feel a lot better if the grammar didn't suck. Read the sentence about putting stuff into my mouth and restoring my tooth. WTF?
2. My appointment was at 5, and my visit was definitely rushed because Dr. Ryan was taking his hygienists to happy hour. No joke. This was mentioned at least three times.
3. Rather than asking that I have my previous dental records transferred out here, he told me that he would assume I received terrible care in the past. I actually kind of like that attitude, but only if he brings it strong.
4. He started singing a Siouxie and the Banshees song and we got into an argument as to whether it was Siouxie or Ace of Base. No one should ever mix up these groups. The hygienist actually called Doc Ryan "stupid" for getting them confused. He said he hated to be wrong, and so he rarely was. Hmm. Misplaced intellectual confidence. Not a great sign for a dentist.

So, given all that, why am I going back? Well, others say good things about him, he is convenient, and then there's this:

5. HDTV. And tiny cameras. And digital x-rays. And text message appointment reminders. Ryan has certainly invested in technology, and as everyone knows, I am a sucker for unnecessary technology. I was hooked when I walked in and started signing documents on a computer monitor. When he then showed me photographs of my silver fillings that were starting to deteriorate (I guess they don't last forever) I was smitten. I'm pretty sure that at some point he will integrate the iPhone into my treatment. I'm giddy with anticipation.
   

Ooopen post 2

The story of the 2007 Ooopen

As I mentioned in an earlier post I'm recently returned from the golf tournament that my friends and I have put on for six years now. And for the fifth time in those six years I returned home a loser.

In years past this would have put me into a tailspin of mild depression for a couple of weeks. With excruciating detail I can discuss how my poor play in previous Ooopens cost my team a chance to win:

1. In the first Ooopen I celebrated too soon after securing at least a draw after winning the 17th hole, quickly lost my concentration, and lost 18, costing us a win in fourball.
2. (I actually played well in Ooopen 2, going 3-1-0)
3. In the third Ooopen I was my team's sacrificial lamb in singles, but was even with Dooley (a far superior player) going to the 15th hole. I missed a 3 foot putt that would have put me 1-up. Instead I lost 16, miraculously pushed 17, but couldn't get the job done on 18. I also played atrociously on the par 3s (two doubles, two bogeys), which ended up costing my team the tiebreaker. I yelled at myself for four hours driving home. To this day I could walk you to the exact spot on the green where I missed that putt.
4. My team got blitzed in the fourth Ooopen 7-1, but I Franko and I had a lead against Dooley and Wiseman in the first round going to the 16th hole and lost. Things went downhill from there
5. My team won Ooopen 5. It was great. I still bask in the glory.

Which leaves me with Ooopen 6. I had incredibly high hopes going in. I was the first to arrive in Myrtle, and after picking up the keys to the house I got in a practice round. Shot 83, including birdies on the two hardest holes. It was arguably my best round of golf ever. We spent most of Friday hurrying up to wait... we arrived at the course early, early enough to watch it rain for about an hour. Then we got to wait as they sent out the other crazy people who waited around. Then, well, it started to rain again and they shut the course. The Ooopen did not get off to a very fast start. We made the most of our free time, including introducing some of the Yankee Ooopen participants to Bojangles. It also says a lot about the group of people that we bring together that we had a day of golf rained out and no one got very upset.

Day two started before dawn. My alarm went off at 6am and the sun was still an hour away from rising above the Atlantic. By the time it did we were on the golf course rather than on the beach. Despite gloomy skies and a waterlogged golf course the Ooopen finally got underway. I was paired with Wiseman (undefeated for two years, easily the best record in Ooopen history), and we played great golf. We were playing fourball against Tim Doyle and Chris Zimmer, and we never let them into the match. As a best ball team we shot 38 on the front nine, making seven pars and two bogeys, and made the turn with a four hole lead. Five pushes later and we had a 5&4 victory. Unfortunately the other Marchers (our team decided to call itself Sherman's March) didn't get off to quite the same start (it's tough to beat a guy who gets 15 strokes and shoots 102), and we found ourselves down 2-1.

I'll be honest: I have almost no recollection of my afternoon match. I know that it was back and forth, I know that I played pretty poorly, and I know that Rupert and Zim (my opponents) played pretty well. The loss hurt, but unlike previous matches I can't point to a hole where I made a shot I wish I could have back. The real story from the afternoon was the Jordan/Swennes vs. Feeney/Contarino match. It featured one player making three 10s in a row. Jordan and Bobby were down 11 points at the 8th hole, and came back to tie the match. It's tough to explain how big of a comeback this is, but it's easily the biggest comeback in Ooopen history. Incredible stuff.

Sunday dawned with my team trailing 3.5-2.5. Sunday would end with my team trailing by the same amount. Once again I came up short, although I don't feel as bad about it as other losses I've taken. I challenged Drew Fine, who is easily the best golf in the group. He shot 83. I shot 91. No one else broke 90 on the day. I was frustrated that despite knocking in nearly every fairway I couldn't give myself easy pars. The loss sucked, but it wasn't as devastating as years past.

So I drove out of Myrtle more ambivalent about the Ooopen than each of the previous four years. I think my lack of competitive fire this year was driven by two factors: first, I planned all the golf, so I spent most of the weekend worrying about logistics; second, the win last year released so much pent up stress that I could actually enjoy the event rather than focusing on the competitive aspects. I don't know how I feel about that.

Ooopen post 3: Was winning last year really the biggest accomplishment of my post-college life? Where else can I find an outlet for my competitive streak?

You know it's a great night when

I would have been completely content with my evening after having a great dinner with my friend Fred (in town on a consulting gig). But it was elevated to being a great night when I saw two men jousting in the middle of the street with metal crutches. One of them (who had no shirt on, in the rain) answered the question "Who do you think you are" with "I'm Bill Simmons, b**ch!"

Live Blogging: Genius Math Kid

I've been blogging this morning from a coffee shop in my neighborhood. I'm now watching some guy tutor this little Asian kid in math. But not the typical math that most 5 year olds would learn (he can't be more than 5). They started discussing the importance and history of the null set, have moved on to canonical forms, and are now discussing introductory number theory (real numbers, natural numbers, ordinals, etc).

The tutor just made the statement "I know you've done a lot of calculus."

Seriously, this is math that I didn't even get to in college. And the kid is 5. Maybe 7. Tops.

Golf interlude: Things I've heard on the bus

Time for another installment of "Things that I overheard on the bus."

• A couple of weeks ago I was riding home from work. The guy behind me was talking on the phone for most of the ride. At some point he mentioned that he had spent his day in court. Now, I'm still naive about who has to go to court. With all of my attorney friends I assume that people who go to court are lawyers or potential jurors. It turns out that when you ride a Seattle bus this is not necessarily the case. How did I figure out that this citizen was in court because he had done something wrong?

"Now the guy is saying that I pulled a knife on him"
"Yeah, it's total bulls***"
"Yeah, because if I had pulled a knife everyone in the store would have died."

I nearly choked on my tongue when he said that, mainly because I would pay money to see his attorney's reaction if he actually said that to a prosecutor. It would have been great. In a terrifying "this guy is riding the bus" way.

• The other amusing thing I overheard was not, in fact, on a bus. It was at a bar while I watched the Redskins lose to the Giants. As the game finished one of the waitresses pulled aside the owner to explain why she wasn't going to be at work the next day:

Waitress: I'm going to be late tomorrow. I have to be in court.
Owner: Why do you have to be in court?
W: You'll totally laugh, it's such a joke.
O: [waiting, not expecting to laugh]
W: I got charged with DUI a few weeks ago. Get this: I blew 0.083. I was only .3 over!
O: [Kind of shocked]
W: I know! Isn't it total BS?
O: Um, but you were drunk.
W: Not really. I was only .3 over!
O: But you were legally drunk. Why the hell were you driving?
W: No, you don't get it, I was only 0.083. That's barely over the limit. I'm sure it'll get dismissed.
O: [Fighting urge to point out that small numbers sometimes do matter.]

Weclome to Seattle!

Ooopen post 1

(Yeah, I own those pants.)

People who don't like my golf stories will likely not be interested in the next few blog posts, as I'll be recapping and waxing poetic on the Ooopen Championship, which is the little golf tournament that my friends put on each year.

First post: photos. Click here to see the Championship in pictures.
Next post: The story of the 2007 Ooopen.
Next next post: Was winning the 2006 Ooopen my most significant post-college accomplishment?

Bowling, Lunn, and mouse hockey

After the Soap Box Derby excitement my friends Chris and Sarah (mostly Sarah) invited a bunch of us out to their house for dinner to celebrate a visit from Matt (aka Dumm Lunn) and Samantha.

Several interesting things happened:

1) Chris and Sarah own hunting cats. They look like house cats, but every time I see Chris or Sarah they have a story about a different animal that their cats have killed/maimed/stunned/injured. The cats feel the need to brag about their hunting prowess by bringing their prey into Chris and Sarah's house. This happened while we were there a couple Saturdays ago. We were hanging around after dinner and noticed one of the cats staring under one of the couches. We didn't think much of it until we lifted up the couch and a mouse came running out. This, of course, caused pandemonium in the house. A few minutes later I had a rake in my hand and was guarding one potential escape path like a hockey goalie.

2) After the mouse was scared out of the house (and back into cats' killing fields) we decided to go bowling. We split up into teams of 3: myself, Jay, and Sarah against Chris, Lunn, and Kevin. Lunn bragged about how he rolled a 269 a couple of years ago, so his opening 89 wasn't very impressive. Jay, Sarah, and I racked up two victories in a row.

Then Lunn got hot. The bad guys won games three and four, and we found ourselves in a stalemate. Even though the lanes were closing we had to find a winner. We bowled the 5th game. And unfortunately, we decided to put money on the line.

Ooops. We got slaughtered. I think we lost by 100 pins. Lunn rolled a 173, the best round of the night. My team then found out that games were $5.25 each, and since we each had to pay for 10 rounds, well, a casual night of bowling ended up costing $52. And maybe more, depending on how you factor in the cost of arm rehab. My wrist hurt for most of the week. I got a text message from Chris on the following Friday saying that his shoulder still hurt. I challenge anyone to go bowl 5 games and see what happens.

Just don't tell me when it doesn't actually hurt. I don't need people to tell me what a wuss I am. Oh, and the 3rd classic blunder (behind the Asian land war and going in against a Sicilian when death is on the line) is betting against Lunn after he's made a ridiculous claim that he can't back up. Of course he'll back it up, and he'll do it with this shit-eating grin on his face:

Soap Box Derby

The blog has been out of commission for a couple of weeks. I've been focusing all my attention on the 2007 Ooopen Championship, arguably the most important 3 days on my calendar for any given year. There will be bloggage on the Ooopen over the weekend.

But now it's time for something I'm definitely doing next year: The Red Bull Soap Box Derby. Basically it's like go-karting, only the participants are usually drunk and the vehicles have no engines. Like this:




Literally there isn't much to these things. The real fun comes before they push these down the hill. Each team has to do some sort of dance, there's a theme and costumes and all sorts of good stuff. This year's judges included Sir Mix-a-Lot (of baby got back fame), Nick Collison (of Seattle Sonics fame), Amanda Beard (of Olympic gold medalist and, um, Playboy fame), and maybe some sort of X-Gamer who I've never heard of. But between a hot swimmer and Sir Mix-a-Lot I was enthralled.

Anyways, my buddy Chris has a garage, and I'm pretty sure that we can buy an old go-kart frame to use as a base, and then we just need a theme. Dad -- figure out how to get the old karting crew out to Seattle next September. We'll also need a welder. And a choreographer. And some creativity... here are some of the other participants:

Dead to me: Hilton Hotels

There is a lot of stuff from this weekend that I probably should blog about: mouse hockey, having the proprietor of a restaurant come to our table and tell us that we were "some of the best eaters he had ever seen", the Red Bull Soap Box Derby races*, an epic 5-game bowling match... but all of those have to wait, because I need to use my soapbox to denounce Hilton Hotels.

They closed my account.

It's not obvious why this is so offensive, until you think back to Y2K. I'm not sure where you were that year, but I was in a Hilton Garden Inn in Addison, Texas. For 133 nights. That's right. More than 1/3 of a year. I built up hundreds of thousands of points that year, and ever since I've been bleeding off a few tens of thousands each year. Apparently I haven't done anything with Hilton in the past 12 months. Because that's the reason they shuttered my account, which had over 200,000 points in it (that's about 10 free nights).

I'm just stunned by this. I know that travel companies have been de-valuing points programs with amazing rapidity, but to not give me any warning before closing my account, well, that's just unacceptable. I'm sure I could have found magazines or golf clubs or something.

Anyways, that's it for me and Hilton. They are officially removed from my list of preferred travel providers. That should show them.


* Trust me, there will be blog about this, because it's possible I may dedicate myself to winning this even it 2008. Dad -- get the go-kart guys ready.

I'll post anything anyone asks

Some things live up to the hype

A sample ranking of the best concerts I've ever seen:

1) James Brown, House of Blues, Atlanta Summer Olympics. Went in through the VIP back door, convinced bartenders to serve me beer (I was 19), peed next to Scottie Pippen, and danced with a future TV sportscaster. Plus it was the Godfather of Soul.

2) U2, Verizon Center, October 2005. I'm not even sure if it was a great U2 show, but they're the definitive band of my generation.

3) Arcade Fire (and LCD Soundsystem), Bank of America Pavilion, September 2007. Kind of a crappy venue, but LCD Soundsystem proved that electronic bands can play mean live shows, and then Arcade Fire lived up to all the hype. Slightly fewer people on stage than Wu-Tang, but those that are there tend to be more involved in the show and less likely to be too stoned to sing. Seriously: go see Arcade Fire. They are worth the money and effort.

What really annoys me is that this cost me a round of golf

I joke with people that they can plan for rain whenever I've made a tee time. When I woke up this morning I thought my prophecy would once again come true: it was cloudy and cold and ominous. But then the clouds started to clear, and while it remained cold it turned into a promising afternoon. So I was excited as I drove a couple of blocks to pick up my friend Cory.

I was considerably less excited when I got about halfway through the intersection of 1st Ave and Broad St. Basically, this happened:



Yeah. I got in an accident. And as a result I didn't get to play golf today, which may or may not have caused all of the clouds to burn away and temps to rise into the mid 60s. I spent most of my afternoon on the phone with my insurance company (actually not the worst experience in the world). I was surprised how many people asked whether anyone was hurt in the accident. I laughed it off and said no, and wondered why no one asked whether or not I missed a tee time. How rude.

Anyways, this is what my fender is supposed to look like:



And this is what my fender actually looks like:




Yarg. Now I have to decide between golf and football tomorrow. Booooo!

This is why I was at work late tonight

I'll laugh at a lot of things. I smiled when my boss turned her laptop around and showed this clip to everyone at a meeting late this afternoon. But everyone else pretty much lost their sh*t. Rather than finishing the meeting so we could go home everyone loaded up YouTube so they could watch this again. And again. And then they watched the various derivatives. For 20 minutes. Even people who were participating in the meeting via phone got into the action. It was brutal. By the time we got down to bidness it was 5:30. Not that I had anything to do.

(Sadly, I didn't. I just hate missing the last express bus to my neighborhood.)

(Oh, and this is clearly a better video than the original.)

A band you should listen to

My friend Brian does silly things like spending all his time and money starting a record label rather than playing golf. Some people just have different priorities.

That said, much like Christopher Walken in the More Cowbell sketch, Brian puts on his pants one leg at a time AND he puts out hit records. Please go check out The Diggs. Buy their EP or their first CD. Or, if you want to be ahead of the times, check out this song from their soon-to-be-released album:

http://www.sugarspunrecords.com/promo/Careen.mp3


(My thanks to Brian to letting me listen to this early. For those of you in the New York, these guys play all over the city. Definitely worth checking out.)

Rye bread subtypes

Can someone explain to me the difference between all the kinds of rye bread out there? I love rye bread, and I think I prefer seeded as opposed to unseeded. In the past couple of weeks I've purchased Jewish rye, Russian rye, and Caraway rye. As far as I can tell I may have purchased the same loaf of bread three straight times. What's up with that?

Listen to my dad on the InterTubes

I'm sure most of you are already huge NPR fans and thus have already heard this, but in case you haven't, let me present my semi-famous father being interviewed on NPR's "On the Media."



(Also, feel free to go to the On the Media website and mock the commenter who claims that USAT fraudulently increases its circulation numbers.)

(Also, the downside of not driving to work is that I rarely listen to NPR any more, so I didn't catch this live. Surprisingly.)

The outdoors

Well, my mom seems to have taken my last two blog posts to mean that I do nothing by drink beer and eat french fries. Clearly she doesn't know how much I would like to be eating fries... but my lack of a deep fryer means that I usually end up eating chips and salsa. And occasionally yogurt and grapes.

In reality, I do a lot of other stuff. Like go hiking. My friend Chris sent me out to a trail along the Middle Fork of the Snoqualmie, about 30 minutes outside of Seattle. Gorgeous hike, although it nearly killed my car (4 wheel drive does not equal ground clearance).

Anyhoo, here are the shots from the hike.

http://www.flickr.com/gp/72188899@N00/6v1NHw

Maybe this is why Franko got a cat

My friend Jon got a cat back in March. Somehow this was a replacement for the friendship of Huan and me since we both moved away from DC. We've long debated why he felt the need to replace us with a cat.

I think I know why.

Having someone around is a great excuse not to eat. I lost about 15 pounds after moving to Seattle. A lot of it was the stress and emotion of the move. Some of it was not knowing anyone, and thus having no excuse to go out drinking. But some of it was having someone else in my apartment who would (passively) make me feel guilty about sneaking late night snacks or eating a 2nd portion of my dinner meal.

Now that I've started to meet people who like going out, I find myself in bars a lot more frequently than in the Spring. And with Huan living it up in the China I don't have anyone to shame me into not eating. The combination (along with a stretch of work that kept me out of the gym and eating takeout food) has encouraged a couple of the lost pounds to find their way back to my belly. Which makes me wonder: Should I get a cat to shame me into not eating?

And then I snap back to reality and realize that cats are lame. I'd rather be fat.

Hard days work

I wish I had some pictures to share, because it would make telling this story a whole lot easier. That's not entirely true... there isn't much of a story here. I spent today experiencing a real college football game, which not only includes an actual game but 2+ hours of pre-game tailgating, another couple hours of post-game tailgating, and finally wrapping up with a traffic-filled bus/car ride home.

Being a Duke alum I never really experienced real college football. Sure, we played Florida State and other actual football teams, but I think we won 9 games during my four years. The whole Duke football experience was so lame that students didn't even bother to drink at their dorms before walking 1/4 mile to the stadium, where tickets were free. It was awful. There is no debating that Duke has the worst Division 1 football program in America.* Basketball made up for it at the time, but now that I'm out of college I feel I missed something that most of my friends didn't.

So when I buddy from work offered up a ticket to the UW/Ohio State game I snapped it up. We were able to find a tailgate, albeit with Ohio State fans. Brats, sausages, grilled onions, bean salad, enough brownies to kill a horse... it was a veritable feast. Oh, and there may have been some beer. I love that the police can't/won't do anything about people walking around with keg cups, but they take extreme offense if you are standing around with an actual beer can. Is that what our public safety officers have been relegated to? Making me put it in a cup?

Anyhoo, the only thing more fun than a pre-game tailgate is a post-game tailgate, especially when the tailgate host's team won. UW gave OSU a fight for 30 minutes, but they didn't have enough in the tank to pull it out. I barely had enough in the tank to finish out the tailgate and make it home. Some of us leave it all on the field. And some of us leave it all in the parking lot.

* Holy S***! Duke WINS! First win against a real team in 3 years! Woo-hoo!

No me tuteas

Tutear was easily my favorite verb in Spanish in high school. Babelfish can't translate it, but roughly it means "to use the familiar 2nd person pronoun", which in Spanish is a pretty big deal. (The formal 2nd person uses the same conjugation as the 3rd person.) This word has popped back into my mind recently as I crawl through a book for short stories by Elliot Perlman called The Reasons I Won't Be Coming.

I first came across Perlman when I read his novel Seven Types of Ambiguity a couple of ago. If I hadn't also read Lolita I would definitely have rated it the best book I read that year. You can click on the links and get better summaries and reviews than what I can provide, but the gist of Seven Types is that it is told through a rotating series of narrators at varying points in time. Some of the narrators tell the story in the 1st person, some in the 3rd, and a few tell the story in the 2nd person. It is very well done.

Reasons is not that well done. Specifically, it should be the poster-child example of why writing in the 2nd person generally sucks. Imagine writing a letter to someone... it would include a lot of phrases like "You remember when..." and "When you did that thing it made me feel good that you were there..." etc etc etc. That's 2nd person writing. (Or, for sports fans, Hubie Brown pretty much calls the NBA and NBA draft in the 2nd person). Unless the author can give the reader a reason to empathize with the "you" (or, in the case of a letter, you are the "you") they are pretty much wasting their time. I keep thinking "is the narrator talking to me? No? Then who am I supposed to be?"

It's all very confusing. Which is why no writer worth his or her salt writes that way. Which is why I like that the Spanish make you ask for permission to use the familiar 2nd person.

(BTW, go buy Seven Types. It's very good.)

3861

That's how many miles my car had on it when I got the oil changed on Saturday afternoon. This isn't a particularly notable story except for what it means I don't do a lot of these days: drive.

Just how little? Let's dig into the stats a little bit:

• I've owned the car for ~280 days
  
• The car had 1700 miles when it was loaded on the trailer to be shipped to Seattle
• Overall I've averaged 13.8 miles/day
  
• While in DC I averaged 28.3 miles/day
  
• While in Seattle I've been averaging just 9.8 miles/day
• A 10,000 mile/year lease is 27.4 miles/day
  

Which means I own a very nice depreciating asset, albeit slightly slower than average. Which kind of sucks.

This is what I'm talking about

Liquid Swords

A Wu-Tang concert is music's version of Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle. How so?

1. If you can identify how many Wu-Tang members there are, you can't identify which ones are actually on stage at any point in time. Conversely, if you can tell how many people are on stage at any point in time, you can't tell which ones are Wu-Tang members.
2. It is impossible to say whether the music Wu-Tang plays during the concert is any good or not. Conversely, if they are playing good music then it is impossible to say whether it is coming from Wu-Tang or an individual member.
   

This might seem nonsensical, but have you been to a Wu-Tang show? I tried counting the number of people on stage tonight about six or seven times. I got numbers ranging from 7 to 13. My best guess is that there were 9 people with microphones who participated regularly, two hype men, and one DJ. But the confidence intervals around each of those numbers is just huge... there may have only been 5 Clan members present. Or maybe they've added a few. The point is that the Wu-Tang is unknowable.

So, is unknowable any good? Who knows. A few of the songs they played during the set were fantastic, but in reality those were just solo performances by Method Man, RZA, or Ghostface with some backing by the rest of the Clan. When they were all participating in a song it was terribly hard to follow what was going on. I can see why their studio albums are great... RZA can orchestrate the competing voices when he has them running through a mixer, but on stage he's just herding cats. The concert was hard to distinguish from the sound check at times.

All that said, I think they've recognized that their influence on the rap scene far outstrips the material they've contributed to the genre, and so they play to their fame: the W hand sign, the love of weed, the whole Asian fetish thing. They haven't really released a relevant album in 5+ years, yet they headlined the last night of a three day music festival in one of the whitest cities in America. They certainly throw out hardcore lyrics, but they don't sound very convincing... they pretty clearly did the rock festivals this summer to pimp a new album that may (or may not) be released this fall. Masta Killa spent five minutes begging people to buy his album and to buy something being released by ODBs family. Or by ODB. Again, the Wu-Tang's business is only knowable by the Wu-Tang.

The other striking thing about the concert was the crowd. I remember some guys from my freshman dorm driving to Raleigh to see Wu-Tang. The concert started with someone (presumably a Wu-Tang Clan member) telling all the white people to move to the back (they did), and most of the audiences pulled out real guns for Wu's 21 gun salute. That same band didn't play tonight. The audience looked like they hadn't moved since Joss Stone opened the day at noon. There were some fat spliffs on the field, but it was mostly white kids bouncing to songs written about the same time they were born. They didn't seem to mind that they were listening to a mediocre show put on by one of the great rap groups of all time. Or was it a great show by one of the mediocre rap groups of all time?

That's the beauty of the Wu-Tang. We can never know anything with certainty.

How many Wu-Tang members can you see?