Tech-Tuesday – Busting and Breaking Bricks

I've been in the brick busting and breaking business for a very long time.  Roughly 30 years.

I started out on my Milton Bradley Microvision and the Block Buster cartridge that came with it.  (I would eventually have Bowling, Connect Four, and Sea Duel, too.)  I played this came CONSTANTLY.  I learned how it played.  I got better, and I was finally able to wrap the score over 999 (it was 1979 or 1980 – computing power was limited) on a single life.  And with that, my block busting career came mostly to an end.  For a while.

Then I got my first BlackBerry, and found Brick Breaker.  Hell yes, the King is Back.  For those of you who have never played, the goal is to use a paddle to bounce a ball off of of bricks, clearing the wall and then moving to the next level.  Some levels are easy, some diabolical.  Some offer a ton of power-ups (free lives, lasers, guns, etc.).  Some offer none.

Thru 3 different models, the game got better.  My game got better, too.  Recently I got to 33,950 and ALMOST cleared the round of 34 levels for the second time.  The second round is rough, because right off the bat, the ball starts off at high speed, and the bricks start advancing toward you every time you hit the ball.

Yesterday, I blasted thru the second round, and got to the third round and something odd happened.  While the bricks started advancing toward you, the ball doesn't speed up.  How could the third round be EASIER than the second?  And same thing with the 4th round (shown above as "3x").  I have since rolled past 77,000 and am still going strong.  I've read on-line that that's it.  The rounds don't get more difficult, and the levels just repeat over and over again.

I think I'll roll it up to 100,000 and then just waste my lives, lock in that as the high score, and go into semi retirement.

And start playing Word Mole again.  ;-)

Excitement @ Menard's

Yesterday, I had the need to go into Menards.  (Like 'Home Depot' but 2/3 the size).  As a condo owning CITY GUY, my need for tools and skill / knowledge of their use is somewhat limited.  As a GUY, I love when I get the chance to go in there.

I had a nail head in my hardwood floors that had come up, so I needed a nail set to help me drive the sucker back down down.  Per usual, I bought one that was better than what I needed.  1 for $3.00 when I could have gotten a set of 3 for $2.00. But it's Stanley, the others were some unknown brand.

And since you can't just buy the thing you went in for, I also bought a small level to help me hang pictures when Cora & Gwen move in, and a pair of kevlar gloves with foam nitrile coated palms for picking up trash outside the condo building.  (See LINK for picture.)

I must have been pretty excited, because in the checkout line, I even got a Lil Chub…

Oh, thank you, Jack Link's, for not only messing with Sasquatch, but for naming one of your processed smoked meat products "Lil' Chub".

And Now, A Word About Daylight Saving Time…

And that's all I have to say about that.

Friday Quickie – Going Dutch

Was scanning Yahoo! News – Oddly Enough - Reuters when I ran across THIS story.  Since I know you aren't going to click the link:

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AMSTERDAM (Reuters) – A union representing Dutch nurses will launch a national campaign Friday against demands for sexual services by patients who claim it should be part of their standard care.

The union, NU'91, is calling the campaign "I Draw The Line Here," with an advert that features a young woman covering her face with crossed hands.

The union said in a statement Thursday that the campaign follows a complaint it had received in the last week from a 24-year-old woman who said a 42-year-old disabled man asked her to provide sexual services as part of his care at home.

The young woman witnessed some of the man's other nurses offering him sexual gratification, the union said. When she refused to do the same, he tried to dismiss her on the grounds that she was unfit to provide care.

"This type of action is not part of the job responsibilities of carers and nurses," NU'91 said.

The case has been reported to police, the union added.

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Oh, the mind boggles!

• I thought "going Dutch" meant you WEREN'T going to get laid!
• I guess she wasn't the "head nurse"
• Hey Obama!  Is this in OUR healthcare bill!
• Come on, Nursie.  I want to see your "Netherlands"!
• How 'bout we warm up that old "thermometer" first?
• What's the co-pay on a "handsie"?

I'm cummings! I'm cummings! I'm CUMMINGS!

The weather has started to turn, and that puts me to thinking about one of my favorite e e cummings poems.

Here are three takes on the poem: in Just-

Firstly: In text form

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in Just-

spring       when the world is mud-

luscious the little

lame balloonman

whistles       far       and wee

and eddieandbill come

running from marbles and

piracies and it's

spring

when the world is puddle-wonderful

the queer

old balloonman whistles

far       and       wee

and bettyandisbel come dancing

from hop-scotch and jump-rope and

it's

spring

and

     the

             goat-footed

balloonMan       whistles

far

and

wee

 

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Secondly: A dramatic reading by the poet himself

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Thirdly: A little nugget from the mind of Scope.  You've been warned, but you're gonna click click it, you know you are.

Tech Tuesday: Who's On First

Ladies and gentlemen, you are such a wonderful crowd, we'd like to play a little bit for you. It's one of my personal favorites and I'd like to dedicate it to a young woman who doesn't think she's seen anything good today - Gwen, this one's for you.

Game on!

Lost and Found….

Or why I don't carry my train pass in my wallet.

[A while back, I mentioned that I don't carry my train pass in my wallet, and that I keep a spare $20 in with the train pass.  This is why.]

It was the summer of '88.  End of July.  A hot time in the old town.  I was freshly graduate from college and had just moved up to "The Big City".  I was only a couple weeks into my first job.  I hadn't even gotten my first paycheck.  So I was broke.

Back in those days, "Business Casual" didn't exist.  I was still in training at my job, wearing "summer wool" suits and sweating buckets in the blistering sun as old men in three piece suits, smoking cigars, strode past me, cool as the underside of the pillow.

I rode Metra to work every day.  Real trains.  Real conductors.  You have to have your ticket out and on display for the whole ride.  I was using a "10 ride".  A slip of hard paper about the size of a credit card that had to be physically punched by the conductor each time, and it easily fit into the credit card slot in my wallet.

I woke up one morning and couldn't find my wallet.  Gone!  It wasn't in the suit I wore the night before.  Or the pants I wore that previous night.  It wasn't in my briefcase.  It was nowhere.

No wallet.  No cash.  No ID.  No train pass.  No hope.

Luckily, the Metra ticket agent took my check without ID for buying a replacement 10 ride.  But I knew no one would cash my check without ID downtown.

Being too embarrassed to ask any of my fellow trainees for some money for lunch, I hatched a plan.  I knew one person who worked downtown, over at the Lyric Opera.  I didn't know Ron well, but we had some mutual college friends, and everyone at Mac Knew everyone.  I would bum $5 from Ron.

Oh, those glorious pre-911 days when you could walk into an office building, stumble around, find a office, and have someone track down the guy you were looking for.  And Ron lent me the $5 without batting an eye.

I'm not sure anymore where I came up with the $20 to live on and repay Ron with that next day.  I know my brother-in-law, Doug, wired me $50 into my bank account up here.  On day 2 without the wallet, I stopped in at Metra's lost and found.  Nothing.  So, I called and canceled the charge cards (Sears' & Penny's, I think) and got a replacement driver's license.  On the way home, still no luck at lost and found.  Or on the morning of day 3, either.

Giving it up for lost, I was surprised when the floor receptionist handed me a note that morning (pre-voice mail): My wallet had been found and was at lost and found!

As best as I can figure, I must have put my train pass in my wallet, and then when I went to put my wallet in my suit coat's inner pocket, I missed and it fell to the floor.

And that, dear friends, is why I never carry my train pass in my wallet.  And to Ron, we may never have been "good friends" but you were a "great friend" when I needed one.

So, if you're wondering if people remember that act of kindness from forever ago?  In this case, the answer is, "yes."

Skills? This Man Laughs At Your Skills!

I stole this from my friends at Gizmodo.

The action really gets going around the 2:30 mark.

And remember his video next time you feel pride in assembling that coffee table from IKEA. This man's shadow blankets you in the cold darkness of shame.

Enjoy the video and have a great weekend!

I Am (not) The Stig

A apology. If you're not a fan of the BBC automotive series "Top Gear", this post may not mean a whole lot to you.

But please read it anyway.

The Stig is the show's tame racing driver.  The Stig does not speak.  The Stig never appears out of uniform.  The Stig just drives.  Fast.  And sometimes participates in the challenges as the 'Ace' that sets the mark for the other hosts to beat.

And I am (not) the Stig.  And I will prove it.

The Scope	vs.	The Stig

The Stig – Wears a helmet to protect his head while racing cars.

The Scope – Wears a helmet because he is sometimes a danger to himself and to others.

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The Stig – Wears a white Nomex racing suit to protect him from a fiery crash.

The Scope – Wear protection around a "fire crotch".

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The Stig – Once raced across London vs. men in a car, on a bike, and on a boat.  He used public transportation and finished 3rd.  (Series 10, Episode 05)

The Scope – Once raced down the Thames embankment looking for a pay toilet.  He won that race.

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The Stig – Has a fat American cousin.

The Scope – Is a fat American.

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The Stig – Drives fancy, exotic cars all over the world ever week.

The Scope – Drives a PT Cruiser around Chicago on weekends.

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The Stig – Some say he was the inspiration for the design of the Stormtroopers in Star Wars.

The Scope – Has never been accused of inspiring any sort of fashion statement.

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The Stig – Next winter, the Stig will be kept warm at night, snuggling up to a engine block heater in England.

The Scope – Next winter will be kept warm by his own British Thermal Unit.

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As you can tell, I am (not) the Stig.  Yeah, I can live with that.

2010 Winter Olympics – Part 2

I seriously thought I would be blogging about the Olympics a lot more than I did.  I watched a good bit of it, but Cora's visit in the middle of them, umm, distracted me a little.

So, before they fade from memory, I thought I would wrap up some final thoughts.

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Short Track Speed Skating:  Every time I heard the name of two time silver medalist Lee Ho-Suk of South Korea's name, I thought:  Warren Zevon  - Werewolves of London.

I saw a werewolf with a Chinese menu in his hand

Walking through the streets of Soho in the rain.
He was looking for a place called Lee Ho Fook's
Going to get himself a big dish of beef chow mein.

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Bobsled:  Steven Holcomb's bobsled "Night Train" ended a 62 year drought in US medals in the sport.  But I couldn't help but think that Steve looked like a good ol' boy who had probably enjoyed a little "Night Train" in his life.

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Two Man Luge:  You'd think the guy on the bottom would be
"the driver."  Seriously.

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Closing Ceremonies:  Catriona Le May Doan, who got JOBBED at the opening ceremony, lit the cauldron, solo.  Class move.

AND SHATNER!

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Hockey: I become interested in hockey every 4 years.  I remember watching the "Miracle on Ice" game as one of my earliest hockey memories.  While I would have loved to see the US win gold, as a "Canadian-American", I can live with the results.

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Johnny Weir: Lord all-mighty!  Going with "Johnny Weird" would be too easy.  While I didn't watch a whole lot of figure skating, I did hear him utter the phrase "rock the tassel".  Seriously?  "Rock the tassel"?

I don't care what his or anyone's sexual orientation is (except Cora's), there's something seriously wrong with going out of your way to take an old tired stereotype of the effeminate male figure skater, and saying, "Screw 11, I cranking it to 17!"

I mean, I hear after his short program, Adam Lambert called him up and said, "Dude, butch it up a little."

A Close Shave

Wedding pictures.

Everyone wants to look good in their wedding photos. While in person, my hair is fairly thick, and the van Dyke was pretty full, the way flash photography plays with the grey hairs make me look a bit "follically challenged".

See. Scruffy.

So I decided it was time to take it off. To take it all off…

And as a blogger, I had to video it, right?

* Note: I have since done the math, and I've had the van Dyke since November 2007, not October 2008. I wouldn't want to mislead you in the video by spreading falsehoods.

A Sunday Quickie

The man was so good at playing with his baton,
he called it "maestro-bating".

Fun Friday - Performance Evaluation

Performance Evaluation

Under the "Freedom of Information Act" and the "Federal Privacy Act" of 2001, I understand that my work performance is being evaluated.  I have the right to examine and copy any documentation.  I have the right to review and discuss differences in order to resolve them and I have the right to request amendments to and/or modifications of any document.                                     

Name:

Date of Review:

	Knowledge:
[ ]	The son of a bitch really knows their shit
[ ]	Knows just enough to be dangerous.
[ ]	Only has half a brain and is dangerous.
[ ]	Brain damaged.  Their coffee cup has a higher IQ.
	Accuracy:
[ ]	Does excellent work, if not preoccupied with  Facebook.
[ ]	Pretty good; only occasionally blows it out their ass.
[ ]	Has to take off shoes to count higher than ten.
[ ]	Couldn't count their balls and get the same answer twice.
	Attitude:
[ ]	Extremely cooperative (kisses ass frequently).
[ ]	Pretty good brown nose, but in poor standing.
[ ]	Often piss off co-workers; thinks it's their job.
[ ]	Doesn't give a shit.  Never did.  Never will.
	Reliability:
[ ]	Really a dependable little cocksucker.
[ ]	Can rely on them at evaluation time.
[ ]	Can rely on them to be the first out the door at 5:00.
[ ]	Totally fucking worthless.
	Appearance:
[ ]	Extremely neat.  Even combs their pubic hair.
[ ]	Looks great at evaluation time.
[ ]	Dirty, filthy, smelly son of a bitch.
[ ]	Flies abandon fresh dog shit to swarm around them.
	Performance:
[ ]	Goes like a son of a bitch if there's money in it.
[ ]	Does okay around evaluation time.
[ ]	Works only if kicked in the ass every two minutes.
[ ]	Couldn't do less work if they were in a coma.
	Leadership:
[ ]	Carries a chainsaw and gets good results.
[ ]	Occasionally gets told to go fuck themselves.
[ ]	Mother Theresa would have told them to go fuck themselves.
[ ]	Couldn't lead a pack of hungry wolves to raw meat.

I understand that I have been evaluated and know my rights under the "Privacy Act of 2001".  I further acknowledge that I am as useless as pockets in your underwear, and will attempt to correct my deficiencies.

Signature:

Date:

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Back in the days before email spam, when fax spam ruled the world, I got a glommed onto a copy of this performance evaluation.  I updated it a little, but opted to leave the language.

Now, go rate your co-workers and have a fun Friday.

I Hate Seeing Her Leave…

… but I love watching her walk away.

Sunday wrapped up Cora's last unsupervised visit to Chicago.  You read that right, Sunday was the LAST TIME Cora will be visiting me in Chicago, alone.  Due to the logistics of the wedding and everything, Cora and her daughter, Gwen (our chaperone), will be visiting in April and that is it.  After that, the next time she comes to Chicago will not me as a visit, it will be coming home.

So Sunday was an interesting day.  After such an active Friday & Saturday, Sunday was a little tame.  Sure, we decided on the wording for the invitations and all, but really, we just more or less hung out.  Lunch at the place on the corner.  A nice walk around the park.  But then it came time for packing and leaving and smooching and sadness.  But first a quick trip to The Container Store.

For no real purpose, other than I love the place, shop there a lot, and while there is one a few towns north of her, Cora had never been in one.  Oh, and it got us on the road without completely being about going to that dang airport.

But, we eventually found ourselves at the airport, bag checked, and a few minutes of privacy before Cora had to head down the security lane.  As I was heading to my car, I got an email asking me if I would be able to get on a conference call @ 7:00 for work.  I was racing home, and kept checking the clock.  I was going to be late.  Maybe 5 minutes.  Should I pull off and call from a parking lot?  Should I just dial in late?  Then I remembered the clock in my car was 6 minutes fast.  I made it to the call with a minutes to spare.

And was on it until 11:30.  Somewhere in there, I got a call.  I flipped over on call-waiting, and heard Cora say, "I'm in Omaha."  But she will tell you about that.

Saturday – Minister, Menu, Merchandise, & Movies

After a Friday full of 'Getting Busy', Cora and I slept in and lounged around all morning…

Oh wait, maybe not so much.

  At the crack of dawn, we called my friend, Becky, who will be officiating our wedding.  She's a dear friend of mine from college, and "yes" she is an ordained minister in a "real church", not an "internet church".  We cuddled up on the couch with Becky on speaker phone and went though the pick list of the ceremony options, and got advice from someone who has officiated a lot of weddings.  And this was the first time Becky and Cora have met.

After the phone call, we got cleaned up, and made a little lunch.

Other tasks were checked off the "To Do List" too:

[X] Decided on the menu for the reception.  Salmon & Prime Rib.

[X] Took a practice first spin around the dance floor.  I think we did pretty good with the spins and twirls, but we'll need to practice the dips.

[X] Exchanged a shirt @ Men's Warehouse that I got at Christmas

[X] Looked @ tuxedoes @ Men's Warehouse – Where's the ruffles?

[X] Looked at dressers @ Aurhaus Furniture – For Cora's frilly unmentionables.

[X] Began our wedding registry.

[X] Split a plate of chicken nachos at Goose Island Brewery. While Cora was sipping her water, I was sipping an environmentally friendly beer, Green Line Pale Ale.  (This ended up serving as supper.)

We wrapped up the evening (well, the parts that YOU get to hear about) at home, snuggled back up on the sofa, watching The Hangover.

And this a bit of the scene that made me laugh so hard I cried.  "Not you, 'Fat Jesus'."