Everywhere I've ever played golf (that I can remember)

Google Maps is pretty much da bomb.


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While I've played a lot of courses, I haven't actually played in that many places (15 states so far). I feel a big road trip coming to knock off a lot of the midwest.

Chef recommends

Two things I've been enjoying a lot recently:

1) Okkervil River. I feel like I get burned most of the time I take a risk and buy something recommended by Pitchfork, but something told me I'd like these guys. I do. Obviously I'm pretty behind the times (they've been around for some time), but if you like Spoon or newer Wilco then pick up both their new album (The Stage Names), and their older one (Black Sheep Boy).

2) The Road by Cormac McCarthy. Um, wow. For a plot that is kind of like Beyond Thunderdome I didn't expect much, but I nearly missed my bus stop yesterday morning, and then again yesterday evening, and I could barely make myself put it down and go to sleep last night. I'll finish it this evening, but it's incredibly powerful writing. I've not read McCarthy's other's stuff, but if it's half as good as this it'll be worth the time to go through his collection. (Normally I wouldn't recommend something on Oprah's Book Club list, but it's really that good.)

The question is what sense am I losing?

I figured that turning 30 would mostly be a bad thing. I get jet lagged easily. Three beers turns me into a wreck the next day. I keep scaring away girls by telling stories about Europe that involve lots of different currencies.

But there have been two upsides:

1) I'm getting hairier.
2) My sense of smell has become remarkably acute.

With respect to Upside #1, let me not overstate things. I would estimate that the time it would take me to grow a full beard has declined from somewhere around "half-life of a carbon atom" to "duration of the reign of a communist dictator", and I might have double my chest hairs from 7 to 14. Baby steps. Baby steps.

With respect to Upside #2, I can't tell if I am developing this sense globally, or if I'm just noticing the incredible range of odors of the people in Seattle. I've blogged about this previously, but there are some really terrible smelling people here. I can now not only spot these folks a mile away, but I feel like I can predict if they will only smell bad when I walk by, or if they are leaving a trail of their scent. Kind of like a shadow of stink. I can detect the difference between "booze only" stink and "booze + piss" stink.

I've also become more aware of women and the perfume's they wear. For the most part I think I just appreciate anything that is feminine and not gross, but I find my head spinning when I pass a group of young ladies who are slathered in various fancy perfumes. This isn't always a good thing. The other day I was sitting on the bus when I had the overwhelming sense of panic... I was sure that the girl next to me was going to start yelling at me or crying or asking me if I thought her jeans made her look fat. It took me a while to figure this out, but she was wearing the same perfume as Crazy _____, a girl I used to date. Luckily there was no drama.

And this is the point in the post where I don't have anything else to say, nor do I have a cute way to wrap things up. So I'm done.

Gone, but apparently not missed by all

This guy. As most blog readers know, Huan moved across the pond (the other pond) a couple of weeks ago, and is now running his own rickshaw business in Shanghai. Or doing biz dev for a semiconductor company. One of the two.

Anyways, Huan's parting shot to Seattle was a story on the, um, "urban cougar". Needless to say that everyone with an actual sense of humor who read the article found it hilarious. Everyone I know who reads the Weekly has mentioned how much they enjoyed the article. Obviously it isn't going to win a Pulitzer, but hey, it traces the roots of the term cougar. How great is that?

However, because Huan is the most controversial writer in Seattle alt-weekly history, the story doesn't end with the story. When Huan's name disappeared from Seattle Weekly's masthead the competing paper's news editor ran a blog post that insinuated that Huan had been fired. This was followed up by crappy local blog "Seattlest" posting an article that discussed both alt-weeklies. They felt the need to call out Huan specifically, and asserted that he got canned:

Newly-former staff writer Huan Hsu initiated a seeming race to the bottom. Back in April he started the trend by attacking Real Change's newspaper vendors for not being homeless. But it was sex--the nastier and raunchier the better -- that did him in. On May 16 he wrote an article about dirty-dancing high schoolers. On June 13 was the now-infamous story about a Ballard High School tennis coach and his pseudo-spiritual sexuality, shared with his teenage female wards. Despite the grotesque pun in the title ("Break Point: Ballard High School's New Age Tennis Coach and the Bad News Beavers"), the article led to the coach's dismissal and seemed to vindicate the teen girl navel gazing. On July 11, Hsu wrote a pseudo-environmental piece about new-agey sex-toy sellers protesting phthalates in dildos. Then there was the July 25 attempt at muckraking that recounted wacky, disgusting and lewd stories of Metro Transit buses. But the final nail in Hsu's coffin was the bottom-of-the-barrel Aug. 8 cover story about NW "cougars." Since that story appeared, Hsu has disappeared from the Weekly's masthead.

the Stranger didn't quite seem to know how to spin the story. On Aug. 8, news editor Josh Feit posted a brief announcement on the Slog stating simply that, "Seattle Weekly staff writer Huan Hsu (rhymes with "who?") has left the paper after a brief 5-month stint." No doubt Stranger staffers would have loved to make an issue of Hsu's dismissal following the story, but they're hardly in a position to talk: their editor Dan Savage made his name as the louche sex columnist behind "Savage Love."

(Sorry, I refuse to post a link to Seattlest, since they and their relative city -ist blogs blow.)

There are plenty of holes in the arguments here, but the one that is most absurd is thinking that Huan would get fired because of the stories that had been published. So let me get this straight: the editors assigned him the story, edited the story (it was 5000+ words), put it on the cover, and then decided that Huan's writing was "racing to the bottom" and fired him. Um, writers get fired for lying or not writing stuff good enough to get published. Obviously that wasn't the case. Good thing I'm one of 25 people who read that blog.

Anyways, join me in wishing Huan the best of luck in China. I'll miss him, even if the city doesn't.

Soul Man, and I don't mean the Isaac Hayes song

So I was watching Soul Man this evening on the MOJO Network*. It's really one of the best movies ever: a kid from LA gets into Harvard Law but needs to find money in order to attend. He decides to take lots of tanning pills and gets a scholarship intended for African-Americans. Then he goes off to Harvard and learns about racism. Hijinks ensue. It is really one of the best movies made in the mid '80s.

Anyways, I spent some time on IMDB looking up the cast when I came across an incredible discovery: Jan from the Office is the crazy white girl who wants to sleep with a black guy (and later, an American Indian) in Soul Man. Turns out that she (Melora Hardin) was also supposed to be the girl in Back to the Future, but when they cast Michael J. Fox she got canned because she was too tall for him. This pretty much cements Jan as my favorite minor celebrity... Soul Man and The Office is a combo that few people can match.

(Her website is also priceless.)


* If you don't get the MOJO network, you should figure out how to get the MOJO network. Among the awesomeness it contains: Wall Street Warriors, a show about d-bags on the Street; The Game, a show about baseball; Three Sheets, a show about global drinking habits; and various other great shows in HD (like Soul Man).

Peach-O-Rama

Apparently it is Peach-O-Rama time here in Seattle. What does this mean? Well, the peaches are quite good, so that's fun. Plus, there is some sort of new/fake metric that determines exactly how sweet the peaches are. The "Brix" rating is technically a measure of the specific gravity of a sucrose solution, but apparently it is also seen as the best way to measure whether a peach is going to be any good.

When my folks were in town I had some peaches that were 13-14 on the Brix scale, and they were very good. Today I had one that measured 14.5, and it was phenomenal. The little stand at my market states that some peaches can reach 18-19, and are "transcendental" in flavor. Given that both peaches I've had recently were WAY better than earlier peaches discussed in this blog I can attest that an 18 Brix peach would just be unspeakably good. So if you find one, peel it, and then eat it.

They didn't teach this in college

Now, my life has never been stuff that would make the cover of Rolling Stone. Or even the cover of Atlantic Monthly. Or even the Duke alumni magazine. But since moving to Seattle I'd say that my sex, drugs, and rock and roll lifestyle has been dialed back even more. Which is why I have a blog that is filled with stories about various tomato based products.

Sadly, I have another story to add to the list. This one involves gazpacho. When my folks were in town last weekend we ate at a place that had, arguably, the best gazpacho I've ever had. As I gazpacho craftsman I respected the texture and ability to balance the sweetness of tomatoes with just a hint of spiciness. The fact that they also threw in a hunk of crab meat and some sort of guacamole-type foam was just pure overkill (in the "oh my is that good" kind of way, like frosting on a donut is overkill, but overkill you appreciate). The gazpacho used heirloom tomatoes, and since I had seen some good looking heirlooms in the store I decided to try it for myself.

Well, the short story is that the gazpacho turned out okay. I tried some different things this time (red wine vs. balsamic vinegar, less olive oil, no bread in the blender, no straining, basil and green onion instead of cilantro), and none seemed terrible. The problem is that after slicing the garlic and jalapeno I rubbed my eye. Didn't think much of it. And then 30 seconds later I felt pretty much the worst searing pain I've ever felt.

At least since I did this while camping before college in 1995.

On the camping trip there was a really beautiful girl who blew in my eye until the burning stopped. I didn't have one of those handy here in Seattle, so I ran into the shower and stuck my head in while getting undressed so I could really get into the shower. After about 5 minutes the pain went from Terrible to Bad, and after another five minutes it was down to Uncomfortable. I only thought I was going to be blind for 20 minutes or so.

All in all, it was probably best that Huan wasn't here for that because A) it would be embarrassing to do that in front of someone and B) it would have been incredibly uncomfortable to ask him to blow in my eye. One of us would have had to move to Shanghai.

An idea I can get behind

I've said that I'm willing to fly back to DC for Felix Navidad 4.0 if my friends will arrange it, even if it means taking a redeye on Friday night and leaving Sunday morning. I enjoy a good party.

Easily the best party idea I've heard in the last year involves the Ducks. You know, the Duck tours that are seemingly popular in DC and Seattle and Boston and any other city that has land and water. (show a picture of a duck). This has to happen.

I was out for drinks with a couple people from work the other day and our SVP was talking about a trip he takes with buddies from college every year. This year they are deciding between golfing in Ireland, or a combo Jazz Fest / RTJ Golf Trail / Kentucky Derby week. The JazzFest-to-Derby trip would involve an RV that they would charter (this guy has that kind of money). We all agreed that Ireland can always happen, but anything linking JazzFest and the Derby would be more fun.

(BTW, I definitely want to do the JazzFest - golf - Derby trip at some point. Just say when.)

Back to the Ducks: as part of this conversation it came out that my boss once attended a bachelorette party on a Duck. They rented out a Duck and rode it from bar to bar all night. They had beer on the Duck. They drove to some bars and floated to others. I'm still struck by the brilliance of this plan... I've seen party buses before, but they seem somewhat generic. Plus, you can't drive a bus into a body of water. How fun would it be to say "Screw the Key Bridge, we're fording the Potomac!"? Even better is that it brings into play the risk of your drunk friend falling into a body of water.

I mean, look at these things:



Anyways, if anyone wants to do this just say the word. I'm in.

Breathe Wrong

Generally I'm a believer in generic products. Everything is made in pretty much the same place, especially for commodities like spices and salad dressings and drugs and such. So when my friends bought me generic brand breathe-right strips for our hiking trip a couple of weeks ago I didn't think much of it.

It turns out that the Breathe-Right people really might have some defensible IP.

The generic brand pretty much fails on every count. It is really difficult to get the generics out of their packaging. The adhesive they use pretty much won't stick to anything but freshly cleaned skin. The shape is ambiguous, and I probably wear it backwards just as frequently as I wear it forwards. It just isn't a particularly friendly product.

Which makes it even stranger that it works just as well. Yup, despite all if its shortcomings the generic brand ends up doing exactly the same thing. Which renders much of this story pointless. Sorry.

RIP: My fan (2003-2007)

When your mother tells you to dust your fan, do not listen to her.

I did. I love my mom, but she killed my fan. It was bound to happen sooner or later, because the only time that my fan turns off is when I unplug it in order to move across the country. But I turned it off today because the inch or three of dust that had gathered since January was a little unsightly. So I dusted. It looked nice. But it didn't turn back on. Despite my best efforts I can't figure out how to revive the little fan that could (I'd say for $20 it probably ran for 7000 hours or so). It passed away about 3:15 pm PDT on August 19, 2007. The fan is survived by two other fans in my apartment (neither of which will be turned off any time soon).

Hiking photos

More blog coming re: camping trip, but here are the photos:

http://www.flickr.com/gp/72188899@N00/s81Z64

Please come and visit

I have a lot of fun when people come and visit, so I hope more of you choose to do so. Bobby was here three weekends ago and we had a blast... drinking, kayaking, hanging out in his joke of a presidential suite hotel room. Good times. I had a similarly good time with my parents in town (albeit more sober... but they paid for better meals). And when Pat was in town back in April I went out and had a good time.

So, the lesson is that I have fun when my friends are around. Now that Huan is gone, there is even a guest room. Think about it.

My family is Ironman tough

I've never really had an awful travel experience. I've been delayed, I've had cancellations, but I've never had to cancel a vacation or even spend a night in a place I wasn't prepared to be. So my heart goes out to my parents and what they dealt with coming to visit me this past weekend.

Here's how strong the parental instinct can be:

1. They spent ~6 hours on the tarmac in DC waiting to fly to Atlanta on Thursday. Given it was over two stretches, but that's 6 horrific hours on a plane. But not going anywhere.
2. They finally arrived in Atlanta about an hour after their flight to Seattle left. Which left them in the ATL airport at midnight. It wasn't exactly jumping.
   
3. None of the nearby hotels had room. I found them a place 15 miles south of the airport.
4. The airline did manage to get them a ticket. Arriving in Seattle on Saturday. Night. Remember, they were supposed to arrive on Thursday evening. My mom is devestated.
5. My sister arrives in Seattle (she made the connecting flight) at 1:00am.
6. My folks decide to buy one-way tickets on two other airlines to get to Seattle on Friday night (1:00am Saturday, actually). They nearly miss their connection in Vegas, but eventually arrive.
   
7. We spend a weekend in Seattle. It is pleasant. The weather is great. I have to work Saturday and Sunday.
8. Folks fly back east on Tuesday morning.
   
9. They make it to Spokane before being forced to land because of a sick passenger. This is literally 45 minutes into the flight.
10. They miss their connecting flights in Atlanta and are forced to spend ANOTHER night in Atlanta. I hear my dad getting a rental car and think he may be considering driving back from ATL to DC (10 hours) rather than waiting for a flight on Wednesday morning. But the airline gives them hotel vouchers and they stay.
11. I assume they will make it back home tomorrow, but at this point, who knows.

So, mad props to my parents (and sister) for putting up with the hassle of cross-continental travel. It was great to see them. Since I know they aren't coming back for a long, long time.

Lost near Lost Creek

Some video of my hiking trip a couple weekends ago. Regular posts (including pics from the trip) should resume this weekend once work removes its boot from my rear.