Found Devra's next birthday present.
Someone remind me to get a salad spinner- damp lettuce is wearying my soul.
Also some baking sheets. The broiler pan is OK for nachos, but doesn't cut it for biscuits. I thought mine were in the garage, but I can't find 'em.
Early candidate for Book of the Year.
Bruce Sterling on global panic.
Fusso is entering some new realm of development. He's marginally more amenable to distraction & will now sit and gnaw on a book or wave around a stuffed animal for several minutes before demanding fresh stimulation. He hasn't show any affinity for boxing, but when you throw on an episode of The Dog Whisperer he becomes fixated. I foresee conflict with his mother, who's combustibility allergic to anything with fur.
He still fights sleep like it's trying to change his diaper.
Meggsie is settling in downstairs.
The refrigerator finally showed up and I played Handyman and installed all of the miscellaneous bathroom fixtures. Cousin Don has expressed interest in doing the kitchen with the leftover bamboo flooring, which would officially make the downstairs nicer than the upstairs. I have a plan to tile over the cement patio and set up the fire pit and grill for relaxing evenings in the back yard.
Which just now is a bare expanse of sand dotted with ratty shrubs and dead bushes, but one dreams of a rain forest of native plants and mosaic inlaid walkways, thronged with birds and butterflies.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Friday, January 30, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
Random Lines from Crummy Fantasy Novels
STEPHANIE MEYER edition, since there's a copy of Eclipse sitting on the counter:
I'll bet those weren't the only poles jerking and quivering in that tent, if you know what I mean!
Outside, the wind shrieked insanely through the trees. The shimmying of the tent made it hard to sleep. The poles would suddenly jerk and quiver, pulling me back from the edge of unconsciousness each time I was close to slipping under. I felt so bad for the wolf, the boy that was stuck outside in the snow.
I'll bet those weren't the only poles jerking and quivering in that tent, if you know what I mean!
another good one
nice older gal with a Mexican accent:
Do you know that author, who is very popular right now?
They are making the books into movies?
And they are bestsellers?
*looks at me expentantly*
me:
Hmmm. Can I have a little more to go on?
her:
I think they are about the vampires?
me:
Stephanie Meyer.
Do you know that author, who is very popular right now?
They are making the books into movies?
And they are bestsellers?
*looks at me expentantly*
me:
Hmmm. Can I have a little more to go on?
her:
I think they are about the vampires?
me:
Stephanie Meyer.
Shamelessly Stolen from Malderor
introducing the new heavyweight champions of metal!
I stripped the previous champion of their title after an ill-advised name change.
The bonus points they score for having a female lead singer wearing an Anal Vomit shirt can't quite make up the difference.
/edit
I have the ideal record label for the new champs!
I stripped the previous champion of their title after an ill-advised name change.
The bonus points they score for having a female lead singer wearing an Anal Vomit shirt can't quite make up the difference.
/edit
I have the ideal record label for the new champs!
Sunday, January 25, 2009
a good one
sour faced older woman:
do you have a section for religious books?
me:
Western or Eastern?
sour faced old woman:
Neither...Christianity!
do you have a section for religious books?
me:
Western or Eastern?
sour faced old woman:
Neither...Christianity!
Saturday, January 24, 2009
threats of violence
The next person who asks "by author or title?" when I tell them a section is organized alphabetically is getting a karate chop to the neck.
Has ANYTHING ever been alphabetized by title?
I haven't come across it.
Has ANYTHING ever been alphabetized by title?
I haven't come across it.
Random Lines from Crummy Fantasy Novels
I'm inaugurating a new feature!
From Memories of Ice, a Tale of the Malazan Book of the Fallen by Steven Erikson:
From Memories of Ice, a Tale of the Malazan Book of the Fallen by Steven Erikson:
Ignoring the tears now streaking his face, the Shield Anvil slowly made his way to a heap of discarded armour.
Author Name of the Month
The purveyor of Childbirth Without Fear, Grantly Dick-Read, MD
Huh Huh Huh!
/beavis
Huh Huh Huh!
/beavis
Friday, January 23, 2009
fuss update
all of a sudden he's just sitting up on his own.
right now he's in the middle of the living room floor chewing on a plumbing book.
right now he's in the middle of the living room floor chewing on a plumbing book.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
our long national nightmare is officially over
and welcome to the new White House.
also, here's Devra on stage with Tim & Eric.
You can read all about it on her BLOG.
retro video: Ry Cooder
Haven't seen this film is maybe 20 years.
Robby Müller was the DP, which meant nothing to me at the time, but he's worked on a bunch of great films, and two of the most gorgeous things ever shot, Down by Law & Dead Man for Jim Jarmusch.
I love this soundtrack passionately, it goes on the shelf with a couple of other idiosyncratic soundtracks by guitarists- Neil Young's work for the aforementioned Dead Man and Mark Knopfler on Local Hero, right next to the soundtrack for The Hot Spot, which brought together Miles Davis, John Lee Hooker, Taj Mahal and Roy Rogers.
i really need to dig my cd's out of the garage...
Monday, January 19, 2009
events
Not one but two people have asked where the non-fiction section is.
I rang a sale where the change came out to $6.66
A crazy barefoot fat guy came in desperate for Terry Goodkind because he had been up all night reading and was desperate for more.
Happily we had a few and he trundled off satisfied.
Redoing the Antiques section I came across an issue of OLD BOTTLE MAGAZINE with the following cover blurb:
Color me convinced!
I rang a sale where the change came out to $6.66
A crazy barefoot fat guy came in desperate for Terry Goodkind because he had been up all night reading and was desperate for more.
Happily we had a few and he trundled off satisfied.
Redoing the Antiques section I came across an issue of OLD BOTTLE MAGAZINE with the following cover blurb:
Mouth Blown Glass ROLLING PINS: Within the Realm of Antique Bottle Collecting!
Color me convinced!
contemporary toy culture
Playmobil Airport Security Checkpoint!
There are also some quality reviews:
I was a little disappointed when I first bought this item, because the functionality is limited. My 5 year old son pointed out that the passenger's shoes cannot be removed. Then, we placed a deadly fingernail file underneath the passenger's scarf, and neither the detector doorway nor the security wand picked it up. My son said "that's the worst security ever!". But it turned out to be okay, because when the passenger got on the Playmobil B757 and tried to hijack it, she was mobbed by a couple of other heroic passengers, who only sustained minor injuries in the scuffle, which were treated at the Playmobil Hospital.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
TVOTR
I just checked out a gig they did on some Scandinavian TV station, and they absolutely MURDERED Young Liars, my favorite tune. The guitars sounded like Heaven's air raid siren, the drummer was nailing it to the floor and the vocals were otherwordly. They're a band that makes me glad to be alive.
Unfortunately it's PAL so I can only play it on the machine.
Someone explain the sense of multiple DVD video standards, besides pissing users off and make them contemplate shelling out for a region free player (which Uncle Timmy has and will donate to the cause of super loud live TVOTR some drunken night in the very near future).
Anyway, any TVOTR fans out there who want a copy let me know.
This show'll blow your hair straight back like that old Maxell ad.
Unfortunately it's PAL so I can only play it on the machine.
Someone explain the sense of multiple DVD video standards, besides pissing users off and make them contemplate shelling out for a region free player (which Uncle Timmy has and will donate to the cause of super loud live TVOTR some drunken night in the very near future).
Anyway, any TVOTR fans out there who want a copy let me know.
This show'll blow your hair straight back like that old Maxell ad.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
buh-bye Georgie
future generations will ponder how someone who was clearly brain damaged managed to get hold of the car keys.
The right-wing persecution complex in action
ABORTION DOUGHNUTS!
and you thought the War on Christmas was silly.
Is there anything they can't reinvent as an attack on their belief system?
and you thought the War on Christmas was silly.
Is there anything they can't reinvent as an attack on their belief system?
weekend update
Cousin Don is finishing off the last bits of hardwood floor, putting in baseboards and flooring the bathroom today.
And with that the transformation of the bottom floor will be nearly complete.
Nearly, because the hallway/kitchen/laundry/furance room is still a complete disaster, but disaster that can only be addressed by massive structural upheaval.
The eventual dream is to move the washer, dryer and water heater into the garage (the furnace is a much grander undertaking).
Why weren't they installed there to begin with?
Excellent question!
I'll file it away with other little household mysteries, like "why is the staircase situated to take up maximum space" and "why are the kitchen cabinets so close to the counter top you can't really use the back half" and "why does the upstairs bedroom span the whole front of the house like the command deck of an oil tanker"?
I finally finished scaling the Mt Everest of dirty laundry that had accumulated during the Washer Interregnum.
I'm so in love with the new dryer I feel like proselytizing door to door, a Jehovah's Witness for Kenmore appliances.
The weather's so spectacular it's starting to make me nervous.
It's been like San Luis with a sea breeze.
Checked out Man on Wire the other night, highly recommended. An illuminating case study of someone who is basically crazy carrying out a preposterous, seemingly doomed scheme with little but the force of their own personality.
Happily, in this case the scheme was to run a wire between the Twin Towers for an unsanctioned public exhibition.
And with that the transformation of the bottom floor will be nearly complete.
Nearly, because the hallway/kitchen/laundry/furance room is still a complete disaster, but disaster that can only be addressed by massive structural upheaval.
The eventual dream is to move the washer, dryer and water heater into the garage (the furnace is a much grander undertaking).
Why weren't they installed there to begin with?
Excellent question!
I'll file it away with other little household mysteries, like "why is the staircase situated to take up maximum space" and "why are the kitchen cabinets so close to the counter top you can't really use the back half" and "why does the upstairs bedroom span the whole front of the house like the command deck of an oil tanker"?
I finally finished scaling the Mt Everest of dirty laundry that had accumulated during the Washer Interregnum.
I'm so in love with the new dryer I feel like proselytizing door to door, a Jehovah's Witness for Kenmore appliances.
The weather's so spectacular it's starting to make me nervous.
It's been like San Luis with a sea breeze.
Checked out Man on Wire the other night, highly recommended. An illuminating case study of someone who is basically crazy carrying out a preposterous, seemingly doomed scheme with little but the force of their own personality.
Happily, in this case the scheme was to run a wire between the Twin Towers for an unsanctioned public exhibition.
Friday, January 16, 2009
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Monday, January 12, 2009
true customer tales
Frat boy walking past the door:
Bro, TWENTY FIVE CENT BOOOOOKS!
That's where I shoulda done my CHRISTMAS SHOPPING, hur hur hur!
About Gosh Darn Time!
FINALLY!
If his farewell speech maintains the intellectual and moral tenor of his administration's actions over the past eight years, we can expect him to drop his pants and light a fart into the microphone.
And given the way all of his other actions have played out he'll fuck that up too and end up trying to light a Shart.
Youtube awaits!
If his farewell speech maintains the intellectual and moral tenor of his administration's actions over the past eight years, we can expect him to drop his pants and light a fart into the microphone.
And given the way all of his other actions have played out he'll fuck that up too and end up trying to light a Shart.
Youtube awaits!
true customer tales
lady on phone: Do you buy books?
me: we'll look at books any day before four.
lady on phone: I'm going to be in town on Wednesday.
me: we'll look at books any day before four.
lady on phone: do you want to know what they are?
me: best thing is to bring in whatever you don't want, and we'll sort through them and see if there's anything we can use.
lady on phone: I'm driving from Nevada.
me: well, you might want to look for a store closer to home.
me: we'll look at books any day before four.
lady on phone: I'm going to be in town on Wednesday.
me: we'll look at books any day before four.
lady on phone: do you want to know what they are?
me: best thing is to bring in whatever you don't want, and we'll sort through them and see if there's anything we can use.
lady on phone: I'm driving from Nevada.
me: well, you might want to look for a store closer to home.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
movie: Pineapple Express
A review in response to Bobo's ear-splitting whining about youtube posts not qualifying as real updates. My responsiveness to my readers is legendary, even in hell.
I wouldn't say it's entirely successful, but it is mostly hilarious and worth checking out. The stoner buddy comedy at the heart of the film is consistently entertaining, and the decision to cast pretty boy James Franco as the Hessian douchebag and make pudgy, unkempt Seth Rogan the 'leading man' was brilliant.
If they'd stuck to this winning pair of characters we'd be talking about a comedy classic instead of a near-miss.
It follows a template I was just chatting about with Zim, the movie that is fresh, entertaining and original until the final reel, when Hollywood orthodoxy comes crashing down like an artistic Berlin Wall and everything goes to shit.
The culprit this time is the lame subplot involving the friction between two drug cartels, involving lots of explosions and bullets signifying nothing much. It feels bolted on and goes entirely against the absentminded hilarity of everything preceding it.
But in an unexpected twist, the filmmakers almost redeem this misguided pit stop with a coda featuring our bleeding and battered heroes reliving the action sequence in a pitch perfect 'hungover morning after' breakfast at a crummy diner.
It doesn't completely repair the damage, but it does wash some of the bad taste out of your mouth. Like chasing a shot of something nasty with an ice cold beer.
I wouldn't say it's entirely successful, but it is mostly hilarious and worth checking out. The stoner buddy comedy at the heart of the film is consistently entertaining, and the decision to cast pretty boy James Franco as the Hessian douchebag and make pudgy, unkempt Seth Rogan the 'leading man' was brilliant.
If they'd stuck to this winning pair of characters we'd be talking about a comedy classic instead of a near-miss.
It follows a template I was just chatting about with Zim, the movie that is fresh, entertaining and original until the final reel, when Hollywood orthodoxy comes crashing down like an artistic Berlin Wall and everything goes to shit.
The culprit this time is the lame subplot involving the friction between two drug cartels, involving lots of explosions and bullets signifying nothing much. It feels bolted on and goes entirely against the absentminded hilarity of everything preceding it.
But in an unexpected twist, the filmmakers almost redeem this misguided pit stop with a coda featuring our bleeding and battered heroes reliving the action sequence in a pitch perfect 'hungover morning after' breakfast at a crummy diner.
It doesn't completely repair the damage, but it does wash some of the bad taste out of your mouth. Like chasing a shot of something nasty with an ice cold beer.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Friday, January 9, 2009
Happy Birthday Sergei Parajanov!
Who would have been 85 today. a visionary director who somehow created great cinema in Soviet Russia before getting tossed into a gulag for being gay.
best known for Shadows of Our Forgotten Ancestors. I arm-swept the Parajanov shelf at the Insomniac closing sale.
best known for Shadows of Our Forgotten Ancestors. I arm-swept the Parajanov shelf at the Insomniac closing sale.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
sign o' the times
Looks like the big boys are finally figuring out that selling crippleware isn't in their long term best interests.
Fear of filesharing drove them to embrace DRM, and the DRM drove potential customers to filesharing.
IRONY!
Fear of filesharing drove them to embrace DRM, and the DRM drove potential customers to filesharing.
IRONY!
burger tyme
I was going to bookmark this, then thought "why not turn it into CONTENT!"
Hamburger Philosophizing.
Next gathering of Youngfriends(tm) is gonna be a hand-ground burger party!
Hamburger Philosophizing.
Next gathering of Youngfriends(tm) is gonna be a hand-ground burger party!
Monday, January 5, 2009
crappy titles of the week
Nancy Drew Files: Win...Place...DEAD by some nameless hack posing as Carolyn Keene
Murder, She Meowed by Rita Mae Brown.
Its like they aren't even trying.
Murder, She Meowed by Rita Mae Brown.
Its like they aren't even trying.
book biz
I see Borders is up shit creek.
I'm amazed they're still in business at all.
I worked at Waldenbooks for a few years, and it was the most retarded, ass-backward company on earth. When they started getting their teeth kicked in by Barnes & Nobel (also a bunch of incompetents, but marginally more with-it than the Walden crew) their solution was to buy Borders, at the time a regional in the northeast.
Alas, rather than learning from what Borders did right, they imposed their idiotic management structure on their new acquisition.
It's nice to see one of the perpetrators of the great independent book store die-off sucking on its own exhaust.
I'm amazed they're still in business at all.
I worked at Waldenbooks for a few years, and it was the most retarded, ass-backward company on earth. When they started getting their teeth kicked in by Barnes & Nobel (also a bunch of incompetents, but marginally more with-it than the Walden crew) their solution was to buy Borders, at the time a regional in the northeast.
Alas, rather than learning from what Borders did right, they imposed their idiotic management structure on their new acquisition.
It's nice to see one of the perpetrators of the great independent book store die-off sucking on its own exhaust.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
kitchen nightmares
We hosted the Young Friends(tm) for a post-holiday feast, as everyone had returned from their various dysfunctional family holiday Olympics.
Well, except Simon, who's happy, well adjusted family is a burden to us all.
I swung by the Italian market for the good pasta, picked up some wine and bread and made the wife's favorite red sauce. It's similar to the quick red sauce I've posted here, save simmering it a while to concentrate flavor then pureeing in a blender.
Ah, the blender.
Mine being packed away on an upper shelf, I opted for mom's old Oster. I keep meaning to donate it, and it kept sitting unmolested on the counter, waiting for its chance.
The blending seemingly went well and I left the sauce to rest while put the finishing touches on the rest of the meal.
The guests arrived just as the pasta finished and I switched on the broiler for the bread. The stars were aligning!
The adventure began with the impending union of sauce and pasta.
I grasped the handle of the blender and lifted it six inches before the bottom fell off and several quarts of sauce cascaded, lava-like, over the blender, down the counter and across the floor, applying a Jackson Pollock patina to my new khakis and lapping ever so gently over the toes of the new shoes I was breaking in.
The audience at the dinner table was thankfully restrained in their response, their affects somewhat flattened by flaring pangs of hunger.
Not satisfied with destroying the main course the blender dragged down the bread as well, which burned cheerfully while the emergency response team contained the sauce spill.
And this, dear readers, is why no self respecting kitchen should be without several heads of garlic and a big bottle of olive oil.
Pausing only a moment to regret my personal animus toward garlic presses (this was one situation where speed and convenience would have trumped my love of chopping), I grabbed my knife and went at two heads of garlic like a man possessed, or perhaps a man living in fear of the potential lynch mob of starving souls in the dining room.
Simmer the garlic in olive oil over low heat for 5 minutes or so, until golden brown, toss with pasta, salt to taste, top with grated Parmesan and voila, BACKUP DINNER.
While the garlic cooked I performed field surgery on the charred loaf of bread, ruthlessly amputating blackened crust to reclaim the edible core.
Combine with a providentially immense salad and there you have it- dinner for six, the long way around.
Well, except Simon, who's happy, well adjusted family is a burden to us all.
I swung by the Italian market for the good pasta, picked up some wine and bread and made the wife's favorite red sauce. It's similar to the quick red sauce I've posted here, save simmering it a while to concentrate flavor then pureeing in a blender.
Ah, the blender.
Mine being packed away on an upper shelf, I opted for mom's old Oster. I keep meaning to donate it, and it kept sitting unmolested on the counter, waiting for its chance.
The blending seemingly went well and I left the sauce to rest while put the finishing touches on the rest of the meal.
The guests arrived just as the pasta finished and I switched on the broiler for the bread. The stars were aligning!
The adventure began with the impending union of sauce and pasta.
I grasped the handle of the blender and lifted it six inches before the bottom fell off and several quarts of sauce cascaded, lava-like, over the blender, down the counter and across the floor, applying a Jackson Pollock patina to my new khakis and lapping ever so gently over the toes of the new shoes I was breaking in.
The audience at the dinner table was thankfully restrained in their response, their affects somewhat flattened by flaring pangs of hunger.
Not satisfied with destroying the main course the blender dragged down the bread as well, which burned cheerfully while the emergency response team contained the sauce spill.
And this, dear readers, is why no self respecting kitchen should be without several heads of garlic and a big bottle of olive oil.
Pausing only a moment to regret my personal animus toward garlic presses (this was one situation where speed and convenience would have trumped my love of chopping), I grabbed my knife and went at two heads of garlic like a man possessed, or perhaps a man living in fear of the potential lynch mob of starving souls in the dining room.
Simmer the garlic in olive oil over low heat for 5 minutes or so, until golden brown, toss with pasta, salt to taste, top with grated Parmesan and voila, BACKUP DINNER.
While the garlic cooked I performed field surgery on the charred loaf of bread, ruthlessly amputating blackened crust to reclaim the edible core.
Combine with a providentially immense salad and there you have it- dinner for six, the long way around.
retail hell
what's worse than crazy homeless people?
shitty parents yelling at their kids!
some brilliant child psychology from the white trash boyfriend-
it doesn't matter what you want, it matters what your mom says!
And then, after berating the kid into a screaming fit, they storm out in a huff and blame her for ruining their trip.
Hopefully the little girl will opt for therapy over tattoos and abusive boyfriends when she grows up.
shitty parents yelling at their kids!
some brilliant child psychology from the white trash boyfriend-
it doesn't matter what you want, it matters what your mom says!
And then, after berating the kid into a screaming fit, they storm out in a huff and blame her for ruining their trip.
Hopefully the little girl will opt for therapy over tattoos and abusive boyfriends when she grows up.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
flickr update + some notes
dig it!
Still sick, but improving.
Up at 7am with the fully recovered Fussy Boy, who truly enjoys watching me make coffee.
Bought a new washer and dryer yesterday.
The old dryer was borrowed and repossessed and yesterday the washer started making things smell like they'd been washed in bong water and used to strain rotten bananas.
There are a lot of appliances in the world. We were paralyzed, compressed between sheets of variety like mosquitoes in amber.
I broke the grim stalemate by pretending I was buying computer hardware, where being too far ahead of or behind the curve are equally perilous.
So I marched boldly down the middle!
Thursday, January 1, 2009
the saga of the floor draws to a close
The new floor downstairs is IN.
For latecomers, during the interregnum of the downstairs tenant's exodus we had a root clog a septic line and the lower story filled up with poop.
Which is a workable metaphor for the whole last year- disaster leading to renewal and evolution.
We upgraded from a carpet that looked like a mechanic's hand towel after an oil change to this glorious bamboo warmness:
A symbolic way to ring in the New Year.
I can't wait to see how awesome things will look after we paint the joint.
The old carpet was the worst I've ever seen.
Bare plywood after we tore it out made the place 1000 times more appealing.
Now I'm jealous- the downstairs is a dance party waiting to happen while we're still shuffling around on a rug that was fresh and eager when Michael Bolton still stalked the Billboard charts like a sexual tyrannosaur.
For latecomers, during the interregnum of the downstairs tenant's exodus we had a root clog a septic line and the lower story filled up with poop.
Which is a workable metaphor for the whole last year- disaster leading to renewal and evolution.
We upgraded from a carpet that looked like a mechanic's hand towel after an oil change to this glorious bamboo warmness:
A symbolic way to ring in the New Year.
I can't wait to see how awesome things will look after we paint the joint.
The old carpet was the worst I've ever seen.
Bare plywood after we tore it out made the place 1000 times more appealing.
Now I'm jealous- the downstairs is a dance party waiting to happen while we're still shuffling around on a rug that was fresh and eager when Michael Bolton still stalked the Billboard charts like a sexual tyrannosaur.
flickr update
calling Anner!
Been sick all week, missed the Polish New Year party where I had been promised kielbasa and pirogi, couldn't help with the long-awaited floor installation downstairs, wasn't much fun for James & Courney's long awaited visit, etc etc.
Hopefully that old saw about the way you spend New Year's Eve defining the next 12 months is a load of hooey, or I'm gonna need to upgrade to a majority position in Kleenex stock.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)