Soft 'n' chewy blog

April 7, 2002 (11:00 p.m. CDT)
It's monsoon season in north Texas. The Dallas-Fort Worth area has been walloped by one of the most powerful thunderstorms this spring. As usual, flash flooding covered low-lying areas (mostly underpasses) with upwards of a foot of water. This rainfall also caused the postponement of the Samsung/Radio Shack 500, this weekend's NASCAR Winston Cup event, which my father-in-law was planning to attend. Thankfully, the race will be run tomorrow morning.

I found this interesting... New Scientist.com posted an article about a fledgling project designed to server as a universal translator. The World Wide Lexicon project will use a distributed computing client (much like SETI@Home) to translate text from various world languages. While we haven't reached Star Trek proportions, we're getting closer.

April 7, 2002 (11:18 a.m. CDT)
First seen on the Winnipeg Sun site: Nigerian gunmen fire upon a Canadian delegation of journalists. Prime Minister Jean Chretien bravely declares: "I'm not a whiner." (This link has expired and has been removed.)

Apparently Canadians aren't visiting pornographic Web sites (old link removed). The reasons: the glut of porn on the Internet and fraud protection policies set in place by credit card companies. Or maybe it's because I moved out of Canada. Sure, I like pornography, but I hardly think that I could skew nationwide survey results. It's depressing to think an entire country is masturbating less. C'mon Canada, you can improve!

April 7, 2002 (3:11 a.m. CDT)
Out of the "It's About Frigging Time" folder... Pres. Bush declares his intentions to oust Saddam Hussein. I couldn't help but to remember the SNL skit with Dubya (Will Ferrell) and George Bush (Dana Carvey) out hunting shortly after the presidential election. "Gee Dad, thanks a lot for that one." (or something like that). I'm not sure what clued the Oval Office in; perhaps it was the whole "offering stipends to suicide bombers" thing. If that doesn't throw your hockey stick over to the "Against Us" end of the rink, I don't know what would.

According the the Washington Post, this squeegee (and its owner) did more on Sept 11 than most people do in their entire lives.

April 6, 2002 (8:03 p.m. CST)
This from CNN.com: Israeli Prime Minister Ariel Sharon promises to expedite the battle against the Palestinians. I'm not a Zionist (nor am I an anti-Zionist), but you would think that Israel would be a little more conscious of the world's opinion on the recent violence in the Holy Land. I'd be lying when I didn't see something like this happening when Sharon beat Barak in the Israeli election. But what do I know? The closest I've been to being Jewish is...well, you'll have to read the Crappy Ex-GF Rant page for that.

As reported in Scientific American, a collaboration between Chinese geneticists have sequenced the genome of rice (old link removed). Strangely enough, rice genes are more complex than those of humans. Does this mean that rice plants will revolt against their human subjugators and take over the world in a bizarre florarchy? Should we be afraid? I think not.

April 6, 2002 (3:30 p.m. CST)
Two days ago, my dog sneezed on me. Now I have some canine cold that has me entering these sneezing fits and has turned my nose into an artesian well. So now I have this zoonosis, this stupid puppy dog flu.

Yesterday, my lunch consisted of a hamburger and two pieces of venison sausage. For supper, I had steak, corn and coleslaw. I'm hardly what you would call vegan. The way I figure it, the rapid evolution of the human brain over the last couple of million years is at least partially attributable to the fact that hominid scavengers started cracking the bones of carcasses open to eat marrow. Civilization may be the direct result of agriculture, but the capacity for civilization is, at least, a result of eating meat.

April 6, 2002 (2:32 a.m. CST)
Seen on FARK:
The York, PA city council passed an Anti-Goat Ordinance (old link removed). Bastards. I'll be crossing that city off my vacation list. I think that it should be perfectly legal to keep goats. In fact, I think that, after they have a few scotches in them, goat owners should be able to do some drunken goat-lovin'. On a side note, I find it odd that someone would bother to cybersquat on both the goatlove.org (old link removed) and goatlove.net domains. Some people.

Here are some letters from Ireland's grumpiest old man.

April 6, 2002 (12:07 a.m. CST)
S-A! T-U-R! D-A...ack!

1. What are the first things that you do in the morning to start your day? -- Wake up, hit the snooze button, wake up, curse, hit the snooze button, wake up, turn off the alarm, wake up, realize I'm late for class, shower and dash off to class.

2. What are the last things that you do at night before going to bed? -- Update the blog, take the dog for a walk and brush my teeth.

3. What daily routine have you recently added to your day? -- In January, I added blogging and school (UTA).

4. What routine do you wish you get rid of? -- Anything that forces me to wake up prior to noon.

5. What's the one thing that makes you feel like something is missing if you don't do it some point within your day? -- If I forget to masturbate before I leave for school, I quickly realize it by mid-morning. There's nothing like a bit or self-gratification to start the day.

April 5, 2002 (7:56 p.m. CST)
As you can tell from previous entries, I play The Sims. If you ask my wife, I spend far too much time in front of my computer, some of it playing various other simulation games, including Civ3 and Alpha Centauri. Strangely enough, I rarely play any of the games to their completion, losing interest after I gain a marked supremacy over my opponents. I don't launch the interstellar spacecraft. I don't exterminate my enemies. I don't destroy the world -- no Ragnaroks, Gotterdammerungs or Armageddons. I am neither a benevolent nor a malevolent Gord, merely an ambivalent one.

Today work sucks. It sucks the collective scrota of ten thousand whoremongers. I'm not bitter though.

April 5, 2002 (10:40 a.m. CST)
Yesterday, I had my medical exam (as mandated by the INS). All went well, save for me being fatter than I'd anticipated. I got a booster shot for MMR (measles/mumps/rubella) and an odd subdermal test for tuberculosis. I'm pretty sure I don't have TB, but I guess the government wants to be sure.

April 5, 2002 (9:18 a.m. CST)
Make sure you bring an umbrella with you when you go out this weekend. It may be raining flaming, 33-pound batteries, according to NASA.

Yes, they are pandering to the most juvenile of us, but aren't Bud Light's Real Men of Genius radio spots the funniest things on Earth? Maybe I exaggerate, but it's the best use of faux-sincerity in advertisement. Ever. From the dead-pan announcer to the earnest, bluesy background singer ("Mazel tov!"), it couldn't be more perfect. So here's to you, Mr. Bud Light Radio Ad Writer, you make our commutes more tolerable.

April 5, 2002 (1:03 a.m. CST)
I'm tired and hardly coherent, so it'll be a short post tonight.

A friend of mine from my military days named Tim Wiebe once passed this nugget of knowledge on to me:
The wrong way to pick up fat chicks: "Hey fat chick! Yeah you, fat chick! You're pretty fat for a fat chick. Wanna dance?"
The right way to pick up fat chicks: "Hey fat chick! Yeah you, fat chick! You're pretty skinny for a fat chick. Wanna dance?"

Now that I've played out that misogynist episode, let's move on to something more relevant...

In case you hadn't noticed (or stopped caring), Mark Burnett has foisted Survivor 4 onto the general public. Having been deterred from its original locale in the Middle East by recent tensions (which erupted into the current open war), MBP decided on the Marquesas Islands in the South Pacific. Enough of this tropical climate bullshit, Burnett. Let's give them a real challenge. My proposal for the (inevitable) next series...Survivor:Yakutsk. Let's dump the contestants off in the Siberian wilds and let them really suffer. Ratings may suffer because the cute twentysomething girls won't be able to use their bandanas as barely-there tube tops, but it will make for intriguing television. Imagine this, if you will...

Day 13, Baranduki Tribe.
Ophthalmologist Walt (34, Ogala, FL) has collected a fresh batch of pine boughs to serve as temporary bedding, while the blankets and sleeping bags thaw out. He is suddenly confronted by a shivering Mel (actress/bartender, 25, Aurora, IL). "I don't know what that *bleep* is for, 'cause I'm not *bleep*ing sleeping on no pine *bleep*. If I wanted to smell like a forest, I'd jam a *bleep*ing air freshener up my *bleep*! For an eye doctor you don't see too good..."
Meanwhile, at the Hucho camp...

Who wouldn't want to watch that?

April 4, 2002 (8:43 a.m. CST)
I almost forgot...Wednedsays mark the new edition of The Onion. In this week's news: Estonia and Suriname go to war! And who says that Bea Arthur can't get your blood pumping? (expired link removed, this post makes no sense without it)

Three games into the season and the Rangers still suck. A-Rod has yet to get a hit, helping to drop the team average to an inneffectual .240. None of the starters have made it out of the fifth inning, and have a combined ERA of 7.20. And that's still three-tenths of a point lower than the team average. Oy vey.

My dog sneezed on me last night, and now I have the sniffles. Oh joy! Oh rapture! At least I can spread my misery via the keyboards and mice of public computers. Muahahahahaha! (That's the best nefarious laugh I can muster right now. Ask me again when I'm not stuffy.)

April 4, 2002 (2:29 a.m. CST)
I've always harbored a secret desire to pursue a music career. While I am possessed of minor musical talent, it's probably best to leave my aspirations hidden within the folds of my hyperactive imagination.

My first fantasy musical collaborator was my best friend throughout elementary school, Devon. While recording a tape for our fictitious radio station CRUD, I ad-libbed the lyrics to the latest hit single from the Mongoloid Biker Punks From Hell, poetically entitled "Suck My Sweat, Puke On Me." It was a love song. Later we formulated their follow-up single "Burning Doorknobs." What can I say; we were 11. Devon and I later formed a hip hop duo: he was MC Lamppost, and I was DJ Whitebred G. Being white suburban kids from Canada, we felt it best not to even pretend we knew what the hell we were doing and record ourselves.

My aspirations didn't end there. A few years ago, I thought that the Various Artists would be a good name for a band, if not for any other reason than for the anarchistic pleasure of watching record store owners furrow their brows wondering how to catalog our music. Of course, the Various Artists' first album would be called "Self-Titled" (a joke that lost its edge after a fellow Toban scribe reminded me of R.E.M.'s Eponymous EP).

And now, were I to form my fantasy band, it would be an electronic music collaboration called Slackbash. I've also considered forming a Sims band called The Reticulating Splines.

On an unrelated note, the blog I reviewed for the P2P Project, Yet Another Damn Blog, has taken on a new life. I made a point of e-mailing my review to the author, Mike Terry, and it seems that his interest in blogging has been rekindled. Yay me! Yay Mike!

April 4, 2002 (12:50 a.m. CST)
In an effort to make this page more reader-friendly, I've moved some links to the right- hand margin of the page, including the archived posts. If the headings are empty when you read this, don't worry, they'll be fleshed out in the near future.

April 4, 2002 (12:11 a.m. CST)
An article on Cockeyed.com gives us the real deal on those ever-present "Work From Home" signs. It turns out that it's a huge pyramid scheme orchestrated by Herbalife (I'll spare them the dignity of being linked). I may take the time to call city hall to determine the legality of these signs in Haltom City. I may have a crusade on my hands, folks...

A local DJ challenged listeners to come up with at five people named Marcus. My list: Neiman Marcus (actually named for Herbert Marcus, Carrie Marcus Neiman and Al Neiman), Marcus Aurelius (Roman Emperor, AD 161–180), Super Bowl MVP Marcus Allen, former Winnipeg Jets goalie Markus Mattsson and, as a stretch, the Marcus de Sade. Yes, I know how to spell "marquis," and yes, I am and idiot. Unfortunately, the contest was won before I could get through.

I'm halfway through my Jalapeno Sourdough Flute. Fungushead says it has a chemical taste, but I tend to disagree. Besides, unlike some other loaves of sourdough bread, it hasn't caused me to shit my pants. I wish that last sentence was written in jest, but it's a sorry fact of my life. I once crapped myself in a Safeway bakery.

April 3, 2002 (9:12 p.m. CST)
Caramelhead's cureall should be somewhere in Missouri by now. The panacea in question? Her horse, Meagan, a four-year old appaloosa-arabian cross. This will give Karen something to do when I'm at work, and should provide her with another set of ears (however equine they are) to listen to her myriad of worries and concerns. All will be good.

Accompanying the mare in question are my in-laws, Keith, and my wife's uncle, Peder. Their visit should also prove to be therapeutic for Karen, and help her cope with her homesickness.

April 3, 2002 (2:33 p.m. CST)
Today's strange things seen on the UTA campus: a mariachi band and a stock car (a Ford Mustang, if you must know). The stock car's primary sponsor is UPS, who brought it to campus to attract students to its recruitment tent. It's a little bit of cross-promotion too, considering that there's a NASCAR race at the Texas Motor Speedway this weekend. As for the mariachis, I'm not entirely sure.

As for the Holy Land, things continue to get uglier. As the National Post reports, Palestinian fighters have taken refuge in the holiest site in Christendom (old link removed).

As promised, the latest Crappy Ex-Flame Rant has been posted. Read away...

April 3, 2002 (12:22 a.m. CST)
Not much ranting and raving to be done tonight. I took two Target Non Aspirin PM Geltabs, and now I'm ready to go snoozie-pie. Caramelhead wasn't wrong about those things, but I'm sure their effect is compounded by the Lone Star I just finished.

Earlier tonight, I went with the wife to Home Depot to buy our lemon tree. While shopping a week-and-a-half ago, we noticed that the Home Depot in Keller was selling lemon trees. Dubbing our tree "Morris," we made plans to return later that week to buy him. Alas, he has been sold. Now we have to wait another week for the local Home Depot (in North Richland Hills) to get a new supply. And yes, I do like lemons.

April 2, 2002 (10:08 p.m. CST)
It's only taken four months since I started posting to this weblog to receive my first piece of fanmail. Well, it wasn't quite fanmail...more like nagging-mommail. A smarmy reader who happened to stumble across my blog e-mailed a grammatical correction to me. This, however, does signify that people are reading my blog, which is a good thing. I think. The error in question has been corrected...

Topics covered in my Carbonate Petrology class: carbonate equilibrium reactions, aragonite preservation and diagenesis. And, as a special treat, we're doing point counts for this week lab. Imagine laying a transparent graphed overlay on top of a mosaic, and then noting the color of the tile under every fifth square. Now imagine performing this procedure under a microscope lens for two hours. Now you should have a clear mental picture of how I'll be spending part of my weekend. Ugh.

April 2, 2002 (2:00 p.m. CST)
I'm going to lead off with a few news stories from the far-flung shores of Turkey...

First of all, here's a National Post article about a boy who had his kidney stolen (old link removed). What has this world come to? You're a ten-year old boy, and all you want to do is go to your friend's circumcision party. Those idyllic dreams are shattered by a bullet (fired by a "rival family") crashing into your torso...

And this from CNN.com: Turkey will head the peacekeepers in Afghanistan. Let's just hope that the troops don't come from rival families...

I'm about to head off to work out, followed by my Carbonates class. It should be a barn-burner. (No barns were harmed in the writing of this blog.) And when I get home, I may need to do some maintenance on my computer. I may defragment my hard drive(s), or download IE 6.0 from Windows Update. I can barely wait...

Perhaps I will take some time this afternoon to dip into the boudoir of my dating past and write another Crappy Ex-Flame Rant. This one won't be as callous as some of my previous rants as the girl in question was hot (I have a thing for redheads) and great in the sack. If you want more detail, then c heck out the page (linked above) later tonight.

April 2, 2002 (1:39 a.m. CST)
I'm going to babble a bit about the inexplicable abundance of late-night syndicated dating shows. They're light. They're fun. They're vicarious in nature. They're EVERYWHERE. Right now, both Change of Heart and Rendez-View are on in the same timeslot, and elimiDATE just wrapped up. I'm going to run through each of the new wave of these shows and give an arbitrary, non-binding rating.

Blind Date -- This is the granddaddy of the new wave of dating shows. It has a very traditional premise: one boy and one girl are matched up, and followed along on a themed date. Each date follows the same format: a "fun" activity to break the ice, then dinner, then drinks (presumably to break the remaining microscopic shards of ice). A running commentary is provided throughout the date, by animations, captions and thought bubbles (a la Pop-Up Video). The date concludes with the boy and girl providing separate commentaries. Host Roger Lodge -- imagine a cut-rate Jeff Probst -- emcees the affair with admirable "trying not to show I'm just paying the bills" aplomb. RATING: 7

Change of Heart -- I must be honest, I haven't been able (or willing) to sit through an entire episode of this show yet. A couple on the verge of breaking up is trotted out, having just been on separate dates with attractive, single twentysomethings who would like nothing more than to make their mark on television by luring their match away from their S.O. The two dates are recapped, and each member of the couple is given the chance to have...you guessed it, a change of heart and ditch their partner in favor of their new interest. RATING: 5

elimiDATE -- I can only image the pitch for this program: "It's Blind Date and Survivor!" Five singles (four boys and one girl or four girls and one boy) get together for a group date. The group of four singles of the same gender are pared down to three, then two, then one by the lucky member of the opposite sex. While scoring high on the desperation scale, usually the first two eliminations are obvious -- you can easily cross off the "attractive, but not textbook gorgeous" contestant and the "struggling actor who is too good for this, but needed a break and got this spot via nepotism" contestant. This leaves two bimbos/himbos to flail sluttily at the brass ring. RATING: 3.5

Rendez-View -- This show's twist is that the unlucky matched couple has their every movement and utterance skewered by not one, but TWO hosts (Greg Proops, shedding some of his cache from his stints on ABC's Whose Line Is It Anyways?, and the spritely Ellen Ladowsky). And as if that wasn't sufficient, two B- or C-list celebrities are added to the mix, just to provide an additional six or seven insights -- and a few are actually insightful! -- per segment. RATING: 6.5

The 5th Wheel -- Kudos to this show for having both the most original premise (instead of eliminating contestants, they're added as the show progresses) and the most polished and likeable host (the polished and scrumptious Aisha Tyler). Two singles are paired up on the start of a date, and two others are added shortly afterwards. Just when the chemistry gets going, the "fifth wheel" joins the foursome, with designs on screwing over one (or both) of his/her gendermates. It's more clever than the other shows, and the singles generally aren't as...um...whorish as elimiDATE. RATING: 8.5

Now I'm an expert, dammit!

April 2, 2002 (12:30 a.m. CST)
I've been wondering...why are weblogs so popular in Brazil? It's not that I would know firsthand, but Brazilians never have struck me as the most introspective or net-savvy people. It shows you what I know, eh?

April 1, 2002 (11:54 p.m. CST)
Well, the Rangers biffed it. Juan Gon kills a 9th inning rally with the king of all baserunning brainfarts, Todd Van Poppel plummets to the bottom of the pitching standings by giving up two earned runs in a third of an inning (54.00 ERA) and the two Rodriguezes were a combined 0 for 7.

April 1, 2002 (5:57 p.m. CST)
I saw the strangest thing this afternoon. Slam Magazine featured a guy from my hometown on the cover (along with his teammates). This may not be odd for most people, but I'm from Winnipeg, Manitoba. Todd MacCulloch coincidentally may be the whitest man in the NBA.

April 1, 2002 (3:22 p.m. CST)
Found today on The Smoking Gun... U2's alcohol requirements for the Zoo TV tour. My favorite points of note are:

U2 likes Rolling Rock. Not bad taste...so far
What goes with JD? "Very good french red bordeauxs," apparently.
You'd think that a firm handling catering for the most famous Irish band in history would know how to spell "Guinness," the most famous Irish beer in history. Two N's, two S's...fuck!

April 1, 2002 (1:29 a.m. CST)
Comedy Central -- perhaps as some cruel joke -- is airing a Gallagher concert. Judging from the comic's magenta sweater, it must date from mid-80's. Man, can that guy trash a stage.

I've added my blog (the WorldNet mirror, at least) to the Eatonweb portal and to Blogdex. Eatonweb may generate some more hits, and both should increase my search engine relevancy (and thus, faster cache update times). Slowly and patiently I creep into the blog community, like ivy...but more malicious. And sweatier.

This from FARK: Wiener cats arrive in England. Consider it payback for Beatlemania...

March 31, 2002 (2:54 a.m. CST)
Happy Easter/Passover.

I'm going to try to take in the Texas Rangers game the Thursday after next. Nosebleed seats are dirt cheap ($5), but I may splurge and go for the left field fence tickets, which cost a bourgeois $12. In 3 1/2 weeks, they'll be playing the Blue Jays, who happen to be the favorite team of my mother's common law husband, Ted. My Canadian loyalties will end as soon as 'O Canada' finishes, as I've decided to adopt the dysfunctional Rangers as my own.

March 31, 2002 (1:50 a.m. CST)
We just watched The Heist. I wish I had better things to say about this film. Throughout the progress of the film, Fungushead would ask what was happening and, to be honest, I didn't know myself.

I pick the Indiana Hoosiers to win Monday's NCAA basketball championship. Would I wager on it? Hell no. I know little about college basketball. I do remember, however, that Maryland messed up my NCAA pool bracket a few years ago, and I won't forgive then for that. Besides, any team named after a turtle (terrapin) doesn't strike me as fearsome...

The one thing I miss about working on Macintoshes is the customizable jigsaw puzzle. Do you want to reassemble a picture of a seahorse? Sure! A marijuana plant? Go nuts! Aunt Becky's Christmas fruitcake? don't hold back, Chester. I'm sure there's a Windows freeware program that does the same thing, but it's not quite the same.

March 30, 2002 (6:11 p.m. CST)
My Peer-to-Peer Review Project review:

Some weblogs start with the noblest of intentions, and then fall into disrepair or neglect. Unfortunately, Mike Terry's Yet Another Damn Blog (old link removed) is one of these. It comprises four days of postings in the space of two weeks, but it has remained stagnant for over a month.

The most troubling thing about this blog isn't necessarily the fact that its author has ignored and/or abandoned it, it's that the few entries showed a great deal of promise. The reader gains insight to the emotions facing someone recovering from the end of a nine-year relationship -- but it is only learned that Mike was recently divorced if one reads the other pages on his Web site.

As the last post on the blog dates February 18, my guess is that Mike will be surprised to learn that his blog was reviewed. (Having submitted my request to join the Peer-to-Peer Review Project (old link removed) in January, even I was surprised to receive the e-mail soliciting my review yesterday.) Perhaps my review will encourage Mike to resurrect his lonesome blog.

The fact remains, however, that seven posts does not a blog make. I find it difficult to come to a decision whether or not to recommend this blog. Maybe for light reading... I'll check back in a few weeks to see if my review spurs any activity.

March 30, 2002 (3:22 p.m. CST)
This is weird. In yesterday's Friday Five, I lauded my choice of the Queen Mother for my dead pool (from 1990 or so). Twelve-and-a-half hours later, she died. Creepy. My blog is the harbinger of death. Let's see if it works...

Melanie Griffith will die soon. So will Dr. Phil. And Lance Bass (in a horrific rocket accident, no doubt).

March 30, 2002 (1:53 a.m. CST)
Tomorrow, I'm having my fingerprints taken (again) for the INS. It's an odd experience -- having grown, balding men rub moisturizer into your fingertips just to make sure that you aren't the deviant criminal. All in the name of the Republic, I suppose...

We (well, I...Fungushead crapped out on me early on) just finished watching Ghost World. My opinions on the movie are divided; Steve Buscemi and Thora Birch gave us wonderfully nuanced performances, but I felt the movie lacked a cohesive direction. Thanks to the wonders of DVD bonus features, we can look to the deleted to get a feel for the editing process. All of four deleted scenes were included, and two were reshoots of a scene that was included with the main cut of the film. Several peripheral characters (Josh, Maxine, Weird Al etc...) were introduced in the first 30 minutes, then left to languish as third-person references for the remainder of the film. I'm hardly an expert, though.

March 29, 2002 (9:25 p.m. CST)
This week's Friday Five, rife with celebrity glitz! And links!

1. If you could eat dinner with and "get to know" one famous person (living or dead), who would you choose? -- There are so many choices...instead of picking one, I'll point out a handful of people who'd make my final list: George Harrison, Leonidas (King of Sparta), Marco Polo, Alfred Hitchcock and Nicole Kidman.

2. Has the death of a famous person ever had an effect on you? Who was it and how did you feel? -- I can't say it has. I don't remember having ever shed a tear for a dead celebrity. That includes the common choices: JFK, Kurt Cobain, Princess Di. To illustrate how much of a heartless bastard I am, I once set up a dead pool with some friends. If I remember correctly, I had Rose Kennedy, Mother Teresa, Ayrton Senna, Sir Alec Guinness on my list (all dead) along with the Queen Mum and Pope John Paul II (she's really old and he's on a death watch. Yes, I will spend eternity in Hell, thank you very much. (old link removed)

3. If you could BE a famous person for 24 hours, who would you choose? -- To my wife's chagrin, I'd have to go with some young actor who gets laid. Often. With many different young ingenues. And it can't be Leo DiCaprio. I'll bet Josh Hartnett gets laid a lot... or maybe Chris Klein.

4. Do people ever tell you that you look like someone famous? Who? -- I bear a disturbing resemblance to a professional wrestler, Jim 'The Anvil' Neidhart. All I need is a neon pink spandex singlet and I have a Hallowe'en costume.

5. Have you ever met anyone famous? -- I walked past Don Cherry in a hotel lobby once, when I was in Calgary, Alberta for a conference. I'm sure he was exhausted after his Hockey Night in Canada telecast -- and likely from dealing with smelly Albertans -- so I left him alone.

March 29, 2002 (7:00 p.m. CST)
My nap was magnificent.

Traffic sucked ass on the way to work. All it takes is one stalled Chevy Suburban in the HOV lane to cause five miles of gridlock chaos on the LBJ Freeway.

The Baptist church closest to us is building a new structure. The artist's conception looks impressive, but all it is right now is a steel girder framework. If I was ambitious enough (or if I cared enough), I'd take pictures, but Baptist churches are ubiquitous in north Texas.

March 29, 2002 (12:39 p.m. CST)
I'm back from the field trip, and I need a nap. The trip was decent, and it could have fared much worse for me. At least I'm not the kid who fell into the scummy koi pond.

I ran into a traffic jam on eastbound I-820 on the way back from the botanical gardens, but managed to rocket past it by exiting onto the frontage road. I hope it clears up in the next three hours, lest my trip to work be a long and painful one. It being Good Friday, call volumes should be low. Depending on how slow it is, I may use the time to make sure that the UTA mirror to my Web page is indexed in Google and/or read Entertainment Weekly.

March 29, 2002 (3:22 a.m. CST)
Ikea has just kicked my ass. I've spent the last eleven hours piecing a lot of pine furniture together (including time devoted to cleaning up the mess and reconnecting the power cables to all of my computer components). Two hammers, a pair of screwdrivers, a cordless drill, a pair of needlenose pliers and several trips to the trash compactor later, my Husar entertainment unit and storage cupboards cum pantry are complete. They do look spiffy, I must admit.

Tomorrow, I am joining my wife's first grade class for a field trip to the botanical gardens to watch the butterflies. It should be fun, even with them ditching the troublemakers on me. I will have to take solace that I'm ditching my Expositional Writing class for the bugs and the shrieking rugrats. I would be doing the class a disservice by calling it anything more than a mammoth waste of time.