Great Moments in Parenting #22

My kids get to watch the Simpsons occasionally. I have my finger on the mute button for when the dialog veers into the grey area, but for the most part, they can watch and get it at an innocent level. Sometimes they wonder what I'm laughing about, but the same thing happens when we watch SpongeBob.

The pond has finally frozen, so it was a chance to break out the skates for some pond hockey. The kids donned their gear, which included snow pants over their knee pads. Emily pulled on her new pants and her mom asked her how they fit. She struck a pose and said, "It feel like I'm wearing nothing at all! Nothing at all! Nothing at all!"

At which point in bent over laughing.

She was quoting this clip from the Simpsons, where Flanders tries on his new ski suit.

Classic.

Let's Get (Astro) Physical

After a week of low level code and high level ideas, the last thing I need to do on the final afternoon of the conference is think. Or sit, for that matter. Those conference seats are harsh on the rear end and, as JV pointed out several times, smell like ass. At one point he thought his chair smelled like feet, until he looked down and saw the guy behind him had removed his shoes and was reclined so they were right under him. Niiiiice. Yeah, he moved.

The final session is a rah-rah recap of how great the week was, what new things were announced and the obligatory joke about how far we all walked all week. That being done, they have traditionally turned the stage over to a comedian of some sort to make us laugh as we head out the door. Last year, Jim Gaffigan was awesome, and I was wondering how they could top that! I should have suspected a change, as they altered quite a few "traditional" things, like the meals offered (sub-par for the first time) and where they serve the Wednesday afternoon ice cream break (tried to hide it in the product showcase, but I found it...).

The guest turned out stay with the whole space theme started by Neal Armstrong, only this guy was astrophysicist - Neil deGrasse Tyson. He started by admitting he was the guy who had denied Pluto as a planet last year, and received truckloads of hate mail from 3rd graders as a result. Apparently Pluto is (was) a popular planet among the junior astrologers.

I confess I love physics and astrology, so at any other time I would have been at the edge of my seat, but my tolerance with that seat was at an end, as I mentioned earlier, and I just couldn't think as deep as some of his interesting presentation covered.

One thing I will share that was pretty cool. In 2023 (don't quote me on the year, I was done taking notes for the week) we're going to have a "near collision event" where an asteroid is going to come VERY close to Earth. Depending on how close it does get, and how Earth effects the space rock, the next pass of that asteroid in 2037 could be a direct hit with Earth itself. Like the one that sent the dinosaurs packing. Seriously.

Dr. Tyson assured us many very smart people are working on several ways to prevent us from being exterminated. Instead of blowing up the space rock like in the movies, they plan on sending a rocket along side to "nudge" the asteroid by using mutual attraction properties to alter the trajectory. Not as flashy as how Bruce Willis did it in "Armageddon" but much smarter. If you blast the large rock you get all sorts of little rocks that go every which way. Not good.

Just a side note about buses. Disney is full of them, and I spent many wasted hours on them this trip. I was ranting a bit to JV, Keith, Brett and company last night at the House of Blues that with all those "Imagineers" they should be able to construct a better way to get around down there. I mean, hell, they HAVE a monorail - expand the bad boy to cover all parks and hotels. How hard would that be? It would cut tons of time off travel and cut traffic load in half in that place, if not by 75%. JV didn't have to ride the bus every day like me and Keith had to, so he was only mildly interested in my issue.

So now I'm on the plane, full of crazy new ideas for work and vendor trinkets for the kids. I hope to hell I don't ride another smelly bus or sit in one of those uncomfortable blue convention seats for another year.

By then, I'll be good and ready to do it all over again.

Poker, Drunks, and Rock 'n Roll

Tuesday night my conference buddy and I snagged tickets to an invite-only Poker Tournament to be held at the Hard Rock Cafe at Universal. The vendor bussed us over and set us up with SuperBowl goodies and trinkets, plied us with booze and food, and charmed us by hosting a few hours of poker. The grand prize? Two tickets to the Superbowl in two weeks, airfare and 4 nights hotel included.

Yeah, we all kinda wanted to win.

It was a strange format, 2 1-hour games would decide the top 8 players who would then sit at the final table that was recorded on video and show to the rest of us live, complete with the ability to see their cards - just like the World Poker Tour! It was a pro setup -very cool.

Overall I did OK, but didn't come close to the final table after a nasty beat in the first game. I was dealt a pair of Kings - which was sa-weet. I slowplayed, only raising the blind. Then I flopped a King, giving me trips. I check-raised and started building a pot. By 4th street there were 2 guys left, and nothing on the board that scared me except a possible straight. But I had the odds so raised way up and both guys went with me. I proudly flipped my trip kings.

The guy next to me caught the straight on the River (5th card). Dammmmmm. At that point I was crippled but fought back and went out 4th.

In the consolation game I finished second, winning a SuperBowl Nerf ball. Not as good as the top prize, but the ball + many G&T's and I was a happy camper. The guys I was with did about the same as me, hanging close but not making the top spots.

Due to the proximity to free alcohol, and the proclivity to consume large amounts of it, many guests were blitzed. I was slow-playing the drinks so I was happy, but not sloppy. At one point, two fully inebriated players came up to me, and drew me into their argument about music.

"Two bands, U2 and Madonna." the one guys blares in my face.

"Ok." I said, wondering why they had walked up to me. Both were standing inappropriately close to me, swaying gently as they shouted. I would have been worried but my pals Keith and Ken had my back. Or I hoped they did. I looked over at Ken and he immediately said, "Billy Bob Thorton!" Referring to drunk #1, and he he did look just like him. The other kind of had a Michael J Fox look to him, if Michael was French.

"Are they rock, or pop?" Billy Bob asks, holding his hand in the face of his friend, as if to stop him from tipping me off as to how to answer.

I considered it. "Original U2 was rock, but they've gone pop. Madonna is pop."

Billy Bob shook his head indicating I had given the wrong answer. "U2 NOW, not before."

The French guy tried to explain that he had made the same point, but Billy Bob pushed on. "You have to choose, rock or pop. Which!!"

"Well, if you're discounting all songs prior to JOSHUA TREE, then I guess you have to say pop."

Billy Bob nods, "Zigactly right. SEE?" he jabs the Frenchman in his chest. "Like I said." He turned back to me. "Now, Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, or not?"

OK, now I was seeing a direction. Here we are in the Hard Rock, surrounded by momentos or rock legends, which must have spurred this argument. Then they decided to ask a complete stranger to decide the matter. Lucky me. "Sure." I said.

"WHAT?" the guy yelled, agitated. "You just said they were pop!"

"It's not just rock stars in there. You have Blues, R&B..." I tried to explain. As if reason had a chance.

Billy Bob gets REAL close to me now, so I can count his nose hairs. Are Keith and Ken still there? "You're telling ME that THEY are better than the WHO?"

When did the Who come into this? "Dude," I say "The Hall of Fame takes anybody who will bring people to Cleveland to pay to see the memorabilia. It's not about the Who."

His eyes lost focus as he thought about it. I looked about. My backup had made off to the tables for the last round. "Hey, games are going to start." I said. "Nice talking." and moved quickly off.

Sizzler

There is an adage in the world of sales that you don't sell the steak, you sell the sizzle.

The sizzle of this conference is found in the bowels of the Dolphin hotel, in a huge area packed with kiosks all showing off products to make the life of Lotus developers and admins easier. Or more satisfying. Or something.

Monday night was the reception where you get to drink for free and eat mysterious h'ordourves while mingling with the sales people from the various products. The free alcohol is the sure way to get tired attendees down there, and the trinkets and t-shirts don't hurt either.

It is there, in the belly of the beast that they unleash their big guns. Literally.

To draw us their kiosks, the vendors employ chicks dressed in bangin outfits. Knowing what a weak species we men are, the savvy vendors stock up on blond showgirls with tight pants or short skirts to get our attention. Once you start conversing with them, it's evident they don't know much about the product, so they pass you off to the overweight guy with the combover who handles the questions on bandwith or applets or whatever.

It made me wonder how much they paid these poor girls to pimp themselves as bait like that. There was actually less use of this technique this year, but it was still there. Deplorable!

Did I over-sell that? Yeah. Maybe. So there were only 4 or 5 vendors pulling this stunt. But I still found it funny.

Walking On The Moon

The conference is underway. The opening celebrity speaker turned out to be none other than the first dude to walk on the moon, Sir Neal Armstrong! Ever heard of him?

That was a big hit with the geeks here, the applause was almost as thunderous as when Patrick Stewart took the stage. I guess by my use of the word "geeks" to describe the crowd I am forced to include myself in that group, but I was no geek last night, let me tell you. I rocked it out at the food table scarfing nachos and pounding mini kegs of Heineken, then played Texas Holdem all evening tossing even more green cans down and nearly winning the table... aw crap, I am a friggen geek. Well it was fun anyways.

Not being one to paint all people with the same brush, it should be noted that there are many, many different kinds of geeks here. This guy captured the personality types about as perfectly as you can. Can you guess which one is me? Yeah, it's real hard.

Hey, did you like the tie-in with the Police song? Kind of a theme recently, huh?

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Professional Development

I'm off to my annual technology conference this weekend. Time to get away from the office and immerse myself in a week of professional development and sharing with other code jockeys and administrators from across the globe and even Ohio.

Below are a sample of some of the great offerings in the brochure this year.


This is Your Destiny

Thoughts and grunts from renowned crumudgun Dexter Freebish who hasn't returned a work-related phone call since 1983. Learn from the master!


New Moves For Your Old Robot

No office can function without the occasional dance party. Get your groove on with Dave Shoeben, who will give you the steps to impress.
Note: Participants will be asked to sign a health waiver.


How To Be Intense

Your customers will have more confidence in your applications if your come across as a brooding, haunted person. Felix Thikatt will show you how to create the perfect mystery persona in which you can wrap yourself.


10 Things You Need To Know About Chicks

Here's one for the boys and bi-curious ladies in the house. Late-night radio host Dr. David Anderson presents a multimedia experience on the common steps for finding and bedding a mate, including dating tips and readings from selected passages of the Karma Sutra.


Making Meetings Crackle, Fer Shizzle

Don't you hate boring meetings? So does meeting vixen Tami Dowdy-Harris, who has the solution for sprucing up those dreary dates with name games and scented candles. Yes, you can!


I Know You're Thinking About India!

Who isn't? Travel Agent/Outsourcing Master John Waine has helped many industry leaders prop up diminished returns by moving call centers to the land of the painted Elephant.


Pixies In Your Programming

Having trouble finding those freaky fairies? Jan & Zena Moonbeamburg can help. Every participant will receive a sample bag of elfin dust!


I'll be sure and check in to let you know how things are going, although I doubt there will be much to pass on. Just boring technical stuff.

Message In A Bottle

Here we go again.

This comes up every so often, usually after Sting has particularly slow album sales. It's always turned out to be bunk.

The band was a brilliant mix of clashing personalities. Stewart Copeland, one of my drumming heroes who I once saw bust two snare drum heads in a single song ("Someone to Come Home To" with his band Animal Logic in 1989). Andy Summers is an eclectic visionary of guitar work, combing a reggae strum style with a fuzzy distortion combination that became a signature sound of the 80's. And of course, Gordon Sumner himself, aka Sting. Nothing needs to be said there.

Despite the chemistry, there were underlying tensions that rose to the surface as the popularity of the bad grew. I remember seeing a video of a pre-concert show where Stewart and Sting get into a water throwing fight and start pounding on each other as the interviewer looks on in shock. The antagonism soon carried forward onstage as can be heard on the 1995 LIVE! album. Sting announces their next song as "I feel....I feel so... I feel So Lonely!" and Stewart yells in the background "I'm not surprised!".

Although there was never an official break-up, each band member pursued his own solo career after the Synchronicity tour ended in March 1984. The friction between Stewart and Sting finally drove the three to the point where no one wanted to be in the studio with the others, which makes creating new music slightly difficult.

The closest the three came to a real reunion was In 1992 when Sting got married to long-time companion Trudie Styler. Summers and Copeland were invited to the ceremony and reception. Aware that all band members were present, the wedding guests pressured the trio into playing. Video of the impromptu show is sad, as the three start fighting onstage moments into the set. The mini-show ends with Copeland walking offstage after trashing the drumset (not his) and Sting saying something to the effect of "Just like old times, eh?"

Maybe enough time has gone by, and maybe the dump truck loads of cash that would be lining up to back into their driveways are enough to convince the three aged rockers to flush the past and start a new partnership. If they can, I will be there, if only to hear them do this song one more time:

Walked out this morning, dont believe what I saw
Hundred billion bottles
washed up on the shore
Seems Im not alone at being alone
Hundred billion castaways,
looking for a home

True. True.

New Levels of Incompetence

We have had no snow in the Albany area. Zip. Zero.

The state plow guys (Department of Public Works) have been chomping at the bit over the lack of white stuff, eager to get that overtime pay and come with large snowstorms. I mean, eager to do a superior job at keeping the state roads safe and passable for other working shlubs commuting to their jobs.

Their dedication was obvious by their presence on the road when the temperature got anywhere near 32 degrees, and they would be out salting the roads, despite the lack of any precipitation. A few go getters even dropped their plows to spark up the road a bit. No snow to plow, but if they beat up the road enough then it will need paving in the summer, which is also done by these guys, so you can see the motivation here.

Hang out with any locals and you'll hear the joke that come the first snowfall the plows are then nowhere to be seen. Sadly, it's a truth. We've all been caught on snowy/icy roads with no salt trucks or plows in sight. Yeah, it sucks.

So this morning we had a little freezing rain hit the area. It was well forecasted by the local weather jocks and so no surprise there. The surprise was seeing NOT ONE plow out sanding the whole 30 mile stretch into work this morning. From the conditions of the road, they hadn't been out at all yet this morning.

They will be out later, I'm sure. Around noon they will head out and spread their salty goodness over roads which will now be bare of ice. I hope they give a friendly wave to all the cars I passed who were off the road (I counted 7).

On behalf of all the commuters who were crawling in this morning on Route 32, let me give a shout out to all the state plow trucks in southern Albany and northern Greene counties.

You guys suck. Really. Suck it hard.

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Telemarketer's Nightmare

Telemarketing is a tough way to make a living, especially with dudes like this out there messing with you.

The call sounds a bit rehearsed, or maybe the guy is just an amazing at improv. You decide.

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Overheard in the Barber Shop

I get my hair cut at a place in the mall. The cutting crew is always new, the turnover there is quicker than at the Chinese restaurant in our town which I'm convinced is a way-station for an underground railroad of illegal Chinese immigrants. Decent Kung-Pow Chicken, though.

I'm sitting at a booth near the front desk and the person working on me is not trying to start conversations about the weather (for which her tip will be increased) so I was treated to this conversation by the receptionist (R) and one of the stylists (S). The receptionist was in her early 20's studying for some test, her books spread over the desk. The guy was in his late 20's, wearing a Met's lid and brand new Addidas tires. He was flashin.

R - And why do I need this anyways?
S - Right, right.
R- I mean she (the teacher) just reads the book to us in class like we're kids or something and I'm like, not listening or caring because I don't learn like that.
S - Right. Right!
R - You know?
S - Yeah, I never learn like that. I would tell her.
R - Well I don't want to upset her. Some kid made a comment about her outfit last week and she left for a while, we think she was crying in the hall or something.
S - Damn.
R - Right?
S - I always learn best after a good talk with the Lord.
R - Hmm?
S - Yeah, he comes to me when I least expect it and then I always would pass my tests. I guess I'm blessed.
R - Um, yeah.


I have to admit, I didn't see the religion angle coming until he dropped it in, and I don't think she expected it either. Cool.

Stinky's Down

We interupt our regularly scheduled blog entry to report that Stinky is down.

Stinky is a childhood pal who is legend in the Vancouver Area. Well, maybe not legend, but legendary. I've written about him a few times, although most of his adventures fall into the realm of "What happends in Cloverdale, stays in Cloverdale".

The news I got today was that Stinky was riding his bike down a hill (mountain bike - he wisely gave up his motorcycle after the Hasslehoff incident) and hit a large pothole. It sent him head over handlebars into the street. Now he's nursing a busted collerbone while plotting revenge against the street crater that took Stinky down.

As my brother pointed out when delievering the news, he believes there is more to this story. He was either making a getaway from some sticky situation, or was momentarily distracted by a hottie checking out the stud on the mountain bike. Ain't no way a plain old pot hole get's the best of Stinky mano-a-mano.

Get well Greg. And if you need help teaching that pot hole you don't eff with Surrey and get away with it, let me know. I may be out this summer.

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Wait For It

The Cheesecake Factory came to town recently. The local news made a big deal out of it, and talk of the long waiting times for a table circulated among friends who had made the journey to Colonie Center to check it out.

My lack of patience is well-known, but even I will wait for 10-15 minutes for a table at a restaurant. If they have a bar, I'll wait 20 minutes, but beyond that my tolerance is limited. There are just too many other places that you could go then burn an hour standing in a crowded lobby staring at other hungry people who stare angrily right back. Not for me - I'll just take it down the road to the Macaroni Grill. That's how I roll!

Yesterday was a beautiful spring day - 65 degrees and sunny with people walking around in t-shirts and shorts. Too bad it's January! The weather has been hella freakish. We had a day out with the kids planned - first a puppet show from a troupe from Nova Scotia at the Egg, and afterwards a nice late lunch/ early dinner while we were up in the "big city". I thought of the Cheesecake Factory since we would be hitting it in an "off time", between the lunch and dinner crowds. Apparently there are no truly "off hours" for that place, as it was a 40 minute wait and the waiting area full of people either dressed in shorts or full parkas. This weather is really confusing people. We weren't starved, and had a few things to look for in the mall which is right there, so I took a pager and left.

The wait ended up being 30 minutes, which wasn't bad since we weren't standing with the other losers in the small atrium waiting for their pagers to go off the whole time. They hover around the hostess station like proximity improves their chances of being called next, staring the help down in a failed intimidation tactic. Assholes.

We were led to our booth and met our harried waitress, Meg. The place is pretty large, and Meg probably had a dozen tables, so the service was slow but pleasant. It wasn't her fault she was stretched that thin.

Here are my notes from the meal:

• No kids menu? WTF? There are kids all over the place in here. No way they are handling a full sized burger. Luckily there were a few appetizer items that worked out, but how hard is it to come up a few things for kids?
  
• The Hibachi Steak is freakin great. Marinated beef and wasabi mashed potatoes. Wasabi! They alone made the hassle worth it.
• It's difficult to eat without silverware. Like I said, Meg was stretched a bit thin.
  
• Stella Artois on tap. Yatzee!

Since the meal took 90 minutes we didn't stay for cheesecake, but I'll go back, sans the little people. And yes, I'll even wait 40 minutes, maybe an hour if I can sit at the bar.

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Rock On

Who knew that aside from the dangers of driving, eating food from the vending machine or talking on a cell phone, now there's a new enemy - space chunks.

Approximately 20 to 50 rock-like objects fall every day over the entire planet, said Carlton Pryor, a professor of astronomy at Rutgers University.

As Rutgers is in New Jersey, with perhaps more night-time ambient light than Las Vegas, it makes you wonder how much star-gazing is going on there. Regardless, Carlton has a point. Debris rains on our planet daily, though most of the rocks burn up in the atmosphere. I never knew so many made it through to pelt ground objects. I'm a ground object, by the way, and so are you.

When I first read this article, my reaction was to add this to my list of ways I don't want to die! I was jumping the gun, as it turned out. Because further down in the article there was some comforting information:

"It's not all that uncommon to have rocks rain down from heaven," said Pryor, who had not seen the object that struck the Monmouth County home. "These are
usually rocky or a mixture of rock and metal."

I guess that means it's kind of like getting hit in the head by Van Halen. Or Evanescence.

Santa's Evil Helper

How come you never hear what the kids on the "bad list" actually got from Santa? Well our friends in Germany know why, Ruprecht get's them.

Like any multi-national enterprise with an excellent PR team behind it, the down side of Santa's Lists are not widely known. In fact, had it not been for a little-known source called "the Internet", this detail may have never come to my ADD-ridden attention.

From the site that revealed this important story...

His best known companion is Knecht Ruprecht, "Knecht" meaning servant. Historically, Ruprecht was a dark and sinister figure clad in a tattered robe with a big sack on his back in which, legend has it, he will place all naughty children.

(Artist Rendering)

My kids are going to have nightmares about this dude. But I bet they're going to be realllly good this year, because nobody wants to end up in a sack with other bad kids. I bet it stinks in there.

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Pffffft

I have a full, unaffected memory of New Years Eve. Unfortunately.

The Vanilla Vodka shots were not a bad idea, although my neon green shirt may have been too bold a fashion statement for that room. At least I wasn’t the dude wearing a white shirt - apparently nobody ever told him about the rule of not wearing it after labor day. As Bill the Cat once said, Pffffft!

At some point, the Karaoke machine was plugged in, and the music started to lure people to the microphone like office workers to a table of free snacks. As you know, the Japanese word translates (loosely) to “cackling drunken idiots”. I’m talking about myself here. A few brave soles got up and belted out a wicked version of “The Thong Song”, which is aptly named because it was all about thongs.

My moment of shame came when I got up and sang “If I had a Million Dollars” by the Bare Naked Ladies. I had backup singers, but even they couldn’t sweeten the sounds emanating from the speakers. I knew how I was doing when the dog slunk out of the room, unable to handle the pitch any longer.

I won’t even talk about the poker game that we started after midnight. Pfffft.

By the way, Dick Clark has to hang it up. It's just sad watching him on the countdown with Seacreast kissing his ass all night. Disgusting.

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