On Running: Seriously, Why Do This to Yourself?

New year, new resolutions to break. I told myself I wasn’t going to make any, cause they are cliched and get broken way too easily, or if I did, I would wait until the Chinese New Year or something. You know, just to make it interesting. Now that I have the XBox 360, my natural instinct is to stay home, play games all day and, you know, shun society and the sun and all that stuff. So screw resolutions, unless that resolution is to play more games.

But I went to the doctor today, saw what I had done to myself over the holidays, and immediately made plans to start running again. I mean, seriously. He told me that the weight gain was a good thing, that it meant that some problems I was having earlier were nothing serious and that I was still at a good, healthy level. And that it was all holiday weight and would probably go away on its won. But what the hell does he know? That quack! He told me I should just walk, that running might be going overboard, but he obviously never went to med school! Doesn’t he know I’m 25 now and that every calorie I eat goes straight to my mancakes (what the hell is this term, btw)? I was actually impressed when I came in under-weight, cause I got to eat whatever I wanted (and before anyone says I’m anorexic, two questions: have you seen me and have you seen me eat?). He also told me that I wore the weight well. This flattered me, considering we had got to third base or something the last time I visited him.

Anyway.

And in case anyone was wondering/cares, I don’t have cancer. Or the herp. Or rosacea. I’m apparently just a hypochondriac.

So, it’s back to running. Some people hate it, but I actually kinda like it. It saves me wasting money on a gym membership I probably won’t use, and I get to explore! Now, I’m not exactly one of those people who can rip off like eight miles in the morning. Those people are douches. I take my time, slow down when I want to, walk around a bit, pet dogs, pick flowers, and the like. And when I feel like it, I start running again, even if it’s only for a couple of blocks.

And I get a lot of good thinking in when I run. It’s kinda like when you go to bed and you have all these great ideas for what you are going to do the next day or for the rest of your life. In those few moments before sleep, you have it all figured out. You’ve solved the Middle East crisis, the meaning of life, the existence of a higher being, figured out how to get a new job (insert oxford comma) and plotted out that novel. When you wake up in the morning, it’s like you’re a child again. You just want to sleep. You’re thinking, “Like hell I’m gonna do that thing! And fuck the Middle East! And that book is going to be stupid! I don’t want to bathe today… just sleep.”

Well, when you run, you have all those before-sleep thoughts but, instead of falling asleep right after, you have the day/evening ahead of you. So those great plans you have, you can actually do something about them. Running today, I resolved to blog. And now look at me!

Now, I’m also a bit hesitant to start running. First off, I can’t just come home and pass out like I usually do. Second, it’s still cold and dark when I get home. The dark I don’t mind so much, but the cold? Fuck that. And lastly, the last few times I went through a running kick, I stopped not cause I “fell off the wagon,” but because tragedy struck. A few years ago a family member died and I couldn’t bring myself to run. And last time, I “fell off the roof” as opposed to the wagon and didn’t want to run in my cast. And when the cast was off, I was just lazy.

Despite the fact that I’m kinda sick, that weight measurement just did not sit well with me, and I came home and ran. And I did a pretty good job for being off the roof for so long. I almost made it to the hospital! And that’s “hospital” as in a physical location, not cause I had a heart attack. And if I did have a heart attack, I would not go to THAT hospital. St. David’s. Just let me die instead! I managed to run/walk for over an hour, even without my iPod (you see, the earbuds would not stay in my ears, that’s how fat I am).

And do you notice that hot people run? And fat-asses that are supposedly getting into shape but will quit in about a week when they open the freezer and see that ice cream and then proceed to eat the whole thing while crying and listening to “Fix You.” But hot people too! Trust me, you say you can’t run or don’t like to run? Get behind a nice ass. Yeah.

Anyway.

If there’s anything I would like this blog to do, it would be to encourage you, the reader, to become a better person. So I invite you to run. Just try it out. You don’t have to go all out, I certainly don’t. You get to explore your neighborhood, feel good about yourself, and look at hot people (extra bonus if you live next to UT as I do). And if you don’t like it, there’s always that Blue Bell in the fridge.

And my Chinese New Year’s resolution is not just to run, but to get fit as well. This might take me some time. I’m gonna run first, deal with the weight thing, and then see what I can do about sculpting my body into a timeless work of art. I might have some trouble with the weights, seeing as how I can’t even lift a can of Diet Coke with my left hand without screaming “Mein Leiben!”, but we’ll see. At least I made the resolution, what did you do? And in twelve months, when I look AMAZING, you can say you knew me when. Or in twelve months, when I’ve grown two pant sizes, broken my other arm, and gotten cast in the John Goodman biopic (as John Goodman. Or maybe Rosanne Barr), you can pity me and my optimism. My goal is to look like Chris Redfield from the upcoming Resident Evil 5:

Who says I have unrealistic expectations? I want trees for arms! And how would you like to run behind that?

Anyway.

I’ll probably stop running when Resident Evil 5 comes out.

My 11 Favorite Video Games of All Time (Because I Have ABSOLUTELY Nothing Better to Do and Nothing Is Going On At Work)

 

This is the time of year when people, such as bloggers, do end of year lists. They tell you their favorite movie of the year (The Dark Knight), their favorite music (Viva La Vida and “Single Ladies”), their favorite University of Texas quarterback (Oh My God, yall!), and all that stuff. Well, I don’t want to do that. I would like to take this opportunity to do something else.

Word on the street is, we’re in a recession. Every industry is doing pretty much terribly. Except video games, which are apparently recession proof. Taken to its logical conclusion, this means that in several years the only thing left to do will be to play video games (can I get a what, what?). So you had better brush up on your knowledge, right? Allow me to help!

Now, I don’t want to go crazy here and start making a lot of lists on this blog cause A) they’re stupid, B) it’s a cheap way to provide content and C) I think many people have the same favorite movies/books/marsupials/whatevers that the lists don’t create enough controversy. But I’ve been playing A LOT of video games lately, for whatever reason. And, since I have absolutely nothing else to post about, I’m going to tell you about my 11 favorite video games of all time. You’re still reading so you really can’t complain.

A few things about the list before I start. First, it’s not the world’s most groundbreaking list. There should not be too many surprises here for anyone who has more than a passing knowledge of the world’s most fascinating art medium (yeah, I said art! I’ll get to that later). Second, there are 11. Top 10 lists are boring. Third, I limited myself to one pick per franchise so the list would not be overrun with Mario games. HOWEVER, in the case of my top two, there is no way I can decide on which game in this certain franchise (can you guess which one?!?) I liked best. So I put both on here. And that’s another reason there are 11. Finally, I realized that there are no NES games on here. At first, I thought “WTF mate?” Without the franchise rule, several would have made it. But the closest NES game that would make the list without containing the words “Mario” or “Zelda” in the title is Contra, and I can’t even beat that without the Konami Code. So I didn’t include it.

And yes, I am this big a dork. The following list confirms it.

A Christmas Memory(ies)

(Historical Note: The following story is mostly true. I can’t say it’s all true cause it happened when I was a kid and things tend to blur. I tried to sort everything out in my memory the best I could).

There was a rumor making its rounds across the playground of Old Town Elementary in Round Rock, Texas. Kids paused from making friendship bracelets, or arguing the benefits of Nintendo versus Sega, to talk about it. Teachers were consulted, and the questions were met only with nervous smiles.

Apparently, Santa Claus was not real.

Someone heard it from someone who heard it from someone else that someone had sneaked into their living room last Christmas only to find their parents drinking “grown up Kool Aid” and putting together a bike. Upon discovery, the parents spilled everything (spilled the truth, that is, not the Kool Aid). The coven of parents around the world had conspired to lie to their children about where their toys came from and why they should act good all year.

Several of us would not believe this. We had proof! I told them that just last Christmas, I had heard the sleigh on the roof. And another kid told me that she snuck downstairs and found him! Santa Claus! Only he wasn’t like the ones in the mall. According to her, he was a big ball of light, some sort of hovering current of electricity. Thinking back on it, this is a kid we would probably term “short-bus special” now, but we didn’t know of such a thing then.

But the rumors bothered me, so I decided to do some detective work that year. I had to know if Santa was real. I couldn’t simply just stay up and catch my parents. There was no way I was going to be awake after ten! And I couldn’t just ask them. They lied about where Jared came from (this was knowledge I also had to gather on the playground). Why would they stop lying now?

So here’s the plan. Santa had never left me a letter with his milk and cookies because, honestly, I could give two shits. Half the glass of milk was always gone and a bite taken out of one of the cookies. This satisfied me. I didn’t need a letter confirming that he enjoyed the cookies (and if he liked them so much, why did he only eat half? Was he watching his figure?). I had TOYS to play with, not reading to do. But I told my dad, and SPECIFICALLY my dad, that gee, it would be great if Santa could leave me a letter this year. I mean, he left all the other kids a letter. Were mom’s cookies just that bad?

So Dad says, “Well, maybe this year he will,” and he glanced over at mom. Boy, these two were NOT playing it cool. It’s like they didn’t know that I was in the talented class (sort of) and couldn’t see what they were doing.

Both of my parents have very distinctive handwriting. Out of a million samples, I could probably pick both of theirs out. My mom writes in perfect cursive and almost always uses a pencil. Even grading tests (she’s a teacher), she uses a pencil. My dad writes with his left hand and uses all capitals. He often uses a marker of some type, usually green. Armed with this knowledge, I figured that my parents would not even attempt to camouflage their handwriting if they were the ones leaving the letter.

I slept easily that Christmas Eve. I slept easily every Christmas Eve. Tomorrow, another piece of life’s puzzle would reveal itself to me.

Christmas morning. I don’t even remember what I got that year. I went straight for the cookies.

And what sort of letter did this dipshit Santa leave me? First off, the handwriting was in all capitals and written with a green marker. This was proof enough. But more damning, the letter was written on lined yellow pad paper. The kind my dad, as a high school principal, used at meetings. And I remember the letter saying something like, “Austin, thank you for the cookies.” Faulkner my dad was not. And why would he thank just me and not my brother Jared?

In an instant, it all became clear to me. All the evidence over the years began to replay in my mind, like at the end of The Usual Suspects (this was several years before that movie was made and, thus, an anachronism). Like when I ordered a Nintendo from Santa. I knew vaguely that Nintendos were made in Japan and that Santa was defiantly NOT Asian. And his workshop seemed more suited to making wooden horses than electronics. Or the time that I wanted a red bike and got a blue one instead. I mean, a blue bike? WTF, Santa? You don’t short change me! I’m an American kid!

I didn’t confront my parents about it then. I really don’t know why. I think I actually wanted to continue believing in Santa because if Santa wasn’t real, who else wasn’t? The Easter Bunny? The Tooth Fairy (there’s another funny story there)? George Washington? JESUS?!?

So I waited until the next year. And I stayed up. And I caught them putting presents under the tree. And they were like, “Oh well. Here, help us put these toys together.” And that’s when my belief in Santa Claus officially ended and I became an atheist.

And with Jared and Jill, it’s like they didn’t even TRY to continue the illusion. It was too much work for them. It was easier to just start handing me toys and telling me to put them together. And before you think that my parents ran a child labor ring, please know that I enjoyed putting together the toys, which is probably why I enjoyed Legos so much and enjoy Ikea furniture today. I remember really enjoying building one of Jill’s doll houses and I probably played with it more than her. And before you say “AHA! There was proof all along!”, know that I wasn’t specifically playing dress up with any of these dolls nor would I ever. I instead staged elaborate soap operas that I would force my siblings to watch. And they were quite raunchy. I don’t remember the details, but Barbie, Aladdin, and Michelangelo were all living in the house together and things often got heated. But, once again, that is yet ANOTHER story.

I bring this Santa Claus story up because I was thinking. If I ever have kids, will I perpetuate the Santa Claus myth? I mean, it really seems ridiculous to tell kids this. What’s the point? And it doesn’t even make a lick of sense and every single child knows this! And it’s creepy on so many levels. We warn our kids never to talk to strangers yet we allow a fat bearded stranger to enter our houses via chimney and leave us gifts and candy. If Santa doesn’t fit the type, I don’t know what does.

But I think I will tell my kids about Santa, and here’s why. If you are lucky enough, and I have been so very lucky, then childhood is a magical time. And Santa is a part of that magic. And when kids figure out that Santa isn’t real, it’s not like it destroys their lives. The worst they can do is blog about it someday.

The main proponent for Santa, however, is that it reminds us how much our parents love us. For as stupid as they can be, for as uncool as they can act, for all the things that they can do wrong, they go out of their way to tell us this lie just to make us happy. And “lie” probably isn’t the right word. It’s more of a story that let’s us believe that the world is magic for just a little longer. A more cynical person than I (yes, they exist) would say you should never lie to your children, and you should be upfront about the realities of life.

But then I think of my dad, on a Christmas Eve several years ago on Fennimore Cove in Round Rock, Texas. And he needs to leave his son a letter from Santa but he can’t find appropriate stationary anywhere. So he scrawls a note on the only thing he can find: a piece of yellow-lined paper. It’s not the best thing in the world, but it will have to do. And then he drinks a half-glass of milk and takes only a few bites from a cookie and leaves the note beside them. And he does all this ridiculous stuff so that, for another day at least, his son could be happy.

I wish everyone a very Merry Christmas.

The Return!

Let’s jump right back into this. The last two months in brief:

-The Blog: It’s been so long since I’ve been here they changed the layout of the edit page. Who knows if this will even get posted! I have no idea what I’m doing!

-The Hand: IT HURTS WHEN IT’S COLD! I’m that person now.

-The Car: Yup, still smells…

-Trip to California: LA is a dump, the state is on fire, Hollywood is just an amusement park, and hockey is an overall boring sport. On the whole, I’d say I really enjoyed myself! (no, seriously, I kinda did).

-Birthday: If you get that drunk, does it really matter whether you are 25 or 18? Yes. Yes it does.

-Xbox 360: My glorious return to video games. Damn, I missed it!

-The Ting Tings: Probably one of the best concerts ever.

-Weezer: Probably one of the oldest concerts ever. Really, Rivers? Track suits? And three encores just to get to “Buddy Holly”? Still, it rocked like it was 1994, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

-Jack’s Mannequin: Wait, I didn’t get to see this concert. Sad emoticon.

-Halloween: I think I pulled off the costume swimmingly and I don’t care what other people say, my legs are hot… ish.

-Work: Kill me now.

-Obama: Fuckin’ amazing! An historical day for America: we elected a president that smokes! Si se puede!

-Proposition 8 et al: Now I REALLY don’t want to read Ender’s Game again. Seriously, fuck married people (except the ones I know).

-Mark Wahlberg Talks to Animals: I wasn’t all that impressed with this the first time I saw it, but I appreciated the theory behind it. And then I saw The Happening. And suddenly, “Mark Wahlberg Talks to Animals” became the funniest skit ever.

-Heroes: Has replaced Lost as my abusive TV relationship. But whereas Lost was just abusive for a while (until the sex got REALLY great), Heroes seems to have developed a meth addiction as well. But I love him!

-Friday Night Lights: Season 3 Episode Cry Count (S3ECC): 7 of 8 (I’m sure I skipped one in there). I also realized that I have talked NON STOP about this show for almost two years and NO ONE seems compelled to watch it. Glad to know my opinion matters. But you know what? It’s all mine.

-30 Rock: Approaching Arrested Development territory. That’s all I’m saying. “I want to go to there.”

-New Music:
The Killers: Yes!
Kanye: It’s growing on me.
Coldplay: I want to go to there.
Beyonce: I think I like Sasha Fierce more. So much so that I’ll put a ring on it. OH!

-Thanksgiving: Delicious! And very odd this year.

-Jim Gaffigan: First stand up show I’ve ever been to and I’m still laughing about it. I might be on TV (I certainly hammed up the laughter when the cameras were close). Hot Pocket!

-College Football: It’s horseshit, all of it. Well except the Longhorns and that quarterback of theirs. The rest? Horseshit.

-Finally telling people: The best thing I’ve ever done! I assure you, Nene, I would NEVER dance too close to a girl. My plan is to expand on this one in a future post (and we all know how my plans go).

It’s been a fun-filled few weeks. There, I updated.

Odds and Ends: Mostly About Music

-Before we get started today, I just wanna say. It takes me a while to update. I know. My goal is to have the posts be at least tangentially of interest to someone other than myself. I like to have a topic, develop a thesis on the topic, and let things naturally go to hell from there. And I don’t particularly like writing about myself, cause that usually means that something CARAZZY! has happened to me and, for the sake of my sanity, those aren’t always fun (but yes, they can be funny). But I really do like to wait until I have something really good to talk about. And when I don’t have anything really interesting to talk about, I write these Odds and Ends posts that’s kinda free association. These posts also seem to coincide with slow days at work. So there. But for those of you who have told me how much you love my posts and how brilliant and handsome and charming I am (seriously, stop it! you’re making me blush), try this. Read a post again. My humor is so layered and complex that maybe you missed something the first time? I mean, E.T. shopping at American Apparel! ROTFLMAO!

-From 30 Rock to Just Like the City, self-deprecating humor seems to be in vogue this era. Discuss.

-Somehow, and I honestly don’t know how this happened, Jack’s Mannequin’s CD Everything in Transit became my most listened-to CD on iTunes and my iPod. A copy found its way into my car as well. Of all the music I “own,” my “subconscious” made sure that, no matter where I was, this would be the one CD I would have instant access to. And “they” (it’s really kinda one person) released a new CD last week, The Glass Passenger. By rough estimate, I think I listened to it, in entirety, six times yesterday. It seriously just happened, I don’t know how. And a live version of “Kill the Messenger” just came on my iPod as I type this. And here’s the thing. I don’t even know if the CDs are even that good. They’re kinda whiny (it is emo, after all) and the songs are pretty basic. However, I can’t stop listening! Everything in Transit refuses to get old to me. I’m in love with it. If I’m listening to something else, I’m always like “I could be listening to ‘Holiday From Real’ now.” Okay, not always, but a lot.

Now, why this CD? I blame it on my delayed adolescence (my “arrested development,” if you will). This is the crap that 13-year-old teenage girls listen to when their boyfriend breaks up with them. Okay, I’m selling it short. It’s obvious that I think it’s good, maybe unhealthily so. But I’m just not that into other music like this (with a few exceptions, I guess). Why this one? It’s a question for me to ponder, to be sure. I have no answer. Has this happened to anyone else? Not Jack’s Mannequin per se, but is there a CD that you listen to way too much? For no particular reason?

-I guess I should provide a mini-review of The Glass Passenger. I like it. It’s obviously no Everything in Transit, a CD that will one day cure cancer, broker peace in the Middle East, and create a great tasting AND calorie-free cheesecake, but it’s still really good. I mean, I listened to it six times yesterday. And who knows how many times total since it came out last Tuesday. Starts off really good, gets a little blah in the middle (but just a little), and then hits it out of the park towards the end. Here’s the video for the first single, “The Resolution.” It was directed by Stephanie Meyers, the woman who wrote those vampire books that 13-year-old teenage girls seem to love and that, um, I might have to read.

Thoughts: A) I don’t like his blonde hair; B) what exactly was Stephanie Meyers’ contribution to this? I did not see one m-effing vampire!; and C) this isn’t like the best song or anything, just the only video from the thing so far. And what’s the deal with boring videos? Cause this one bored me. I might expand that one into a post some day.

-Might as well highlight another new CD. I also like the Gorillaz, though in a driving in the car, background music sort of way. But the guy and the artist behind the Gorillaz, apparently with a lot of time on their hands, wrote an opera. Yes, an opera. But wait, it gets better. It’s entirely in Mandarin Chinese. And the plot involves a monkey that fights heaven or something. And it sounds like the Gorillaz’ (is that how you punctuate that?) music. It’s called Monkey: Journey to the West. Here’s a sample, with artwork. I kinda like it a lot. But when I tried to tell this to the one Gorillaz fan I know, he responded with an “oh.” Why can’t people share my excitement over anything?!?

-I took an online religion quiz that told me I was a Unitarian Universalist. And like part Scientologist and part Reform Jew (so can I take off Thursday for Yom Kippur?). But back to the Unitarian thing. Just a heads up. A future post might involve my research into this religion/fad of the week for me. I hope they aren’t a cult. I always thought they were a cult. But to be honest, I am the kinda person that would join a cult. I mean, I lived near Waco most of my teen years. There’s crazy in the water up there!

-Finally, hey! It’s football season! And UT plays OU this Saturday…

…but a certain quarterback seems to be doing alright for himself this season, so no worries, right? Hook ‘em!

Dark Flow, or How Space Upped Its Craziness Factor a Bit

If you are a dork like me and want to waste every possible second of the day you have (which seems to be my goal in life), then you should spend a few hours on space.com and prepare for your head to explode. I briefly touched on it with my “Water on Mars” post, but space fascinates me, as I’m sure it does everyone else. I mean, you’d have to be pretty unimaginative and boring to not at least care somewhat about what’s going on out there. But here’s the best part: no one knows what the hell is going on out there! Scientists and astronomers (of which I wanted to be one, but came to the stunning conclusion that I was in no way smart) are basically like TV viewers and space is like the public access channel. SOMETHING is going on there and it is absolutely fascinating, but no matter how long you watch it and how many theories you come up with, it’s not going to make a lick of sense. Where do we come from? What are black holes? Dose the universe have an edge? Why are two drag queens singing gospel songs in a graveyard? Mysteries, my friends. Mysteries.

One particular article caught my attention today, and it was so cool I had to share it with you (and by you, I mean YOU. You are my only reader). I always want to talk about this stuff, but I end up not really understanding it and instead draw pictures of E.T. at American Apparel. But this one has me giddy with excitement. In short, there is something out there that is pulling huge clusters of galaxies around, all in the same direction. It’s like in Go, Dog, Go, where they are all heading to the tree party (kinda). Scientists claim that there is nothing in the known universe that could cause stuff this big to move at these speeds (and this is independent from the fact that everything is moving because the universe is expanding), so they say there is something OUTSIDE the universe causing this. OUTSIDE THE UNIVERSE! And they are calling this phenomenon “Dark Flow.”

First, let’s discuss the name. “Dark Flow.” It sounds like a heavy-metal/rap fusion band. Scientists, who are the biggest dorks ever, always seem to come up with the coolest names for things. Like “event horizon” (one of my favorite terms ever) or “dark matter” or naming all the planets after ancient gods instead of something like “the red one.” The only time they’ve ever really fumbled the ball on a name is “black hole.” What about “darkness arena?” Or “warp zone?” Second, wow. Things outside the universe pulling things around? And they are so far away, further than any light has ever traveled since the creation of OUR universe, that there is no way we can see them. On top of that, the article implies that our universe is self contained, kinda in a bubble, and the “rules” that apply here might not apply in other bubbles outside our bubble. I mean, just think about that for a second. Wow. And then on top of that, they use the word “structures” to describe the objects that are pulling. Now, structure to me is an artificial word. You call something built a structure. You don’t call something “natural” like a tree a structure. It’s almost like I can imagine that the universe is under construction, and that out there at the edges you have the construction zone and it’s giant cranes that are pulling things around… no thanks, I’ll pass on another brownie!

Fascinating. Just fascinating. I hope someone shares my enthusiasm because I am going to be thinking about this all day.

Also, did you read the one about the Large Hadron Collider, the giant particle accelerator that was built deep under the Swiss? Where scientists are going to smash particles together and try to create the conditions of the Big Bang in order to understand the mysteries of the universe? And how some people thought this would bring about the end of the world? Well, they turned it on for a test and then something “broke” somewhere (I’m not a scientist so I can’t understand all the deets) and now there’s a problem. They say that something happened with some magnets somewhere, but think about it. When it was turned on, the world was supposed to end, or at the least a portal was supposed to open. Now it’s shut down. Hmmm. What are the Swiss not telling us

Also, China has a functioning space program? Why wasn’t I told?

Here Comes the Story of the Hurricane

As the dawn of another weekend approaches, bringing with it the hopes of fun, adventures, debauchery, or at least a decent amount of sleep, I am reminded of the events of last weekend in which fun was kinda sorta promised to me, but instead no one had any fun at all. Earlier last week, residents of Austin were informed that a massive, earth-ending, Jake Gyllanhall-fighting-The Day After Tomorrow-style hurricane was going to hit the Texas coast and that it was headed straight for the city. Feet and feet of rain were forecast, Biblical winds were in the mix, and my mom even called to suggest I board up my windows (after what transpired during Actual Storm ‘08. Was that what I was calling that one? I don’t remember). And might I remind you, we don’t even live on the coast! In fact, one might be inclined to call us “Central” Texas, placing the Gulf of Mexico, or any bordering state/country/means of escape, some millions of miles away.

But as the week went on, the storm shifted, and all the excitement I was looking forward to last Saturday was thrown out the proverbial window. First off, the Texas/Arkansas game was canceled. This really wasn’t for inclement weather so much as the fact that literally billions of hurricane-weary refugees would be hitting the Austin area. The game has been postponed until ACL weekend. Secondly, the hurricane set its sites of Houston and Galveston and, you know what, ended up being no fun at all. Galveston was basically destroyed, and Houston became an even worse place to live in. I know people down there who STILL don’t have power and I’m all like, what’s the deal? Why aren’t hurricanes fun anymore? When did they decide to become such assholes and level cities? They used to just blow in and piss everywhere and knock a few things down but people were still able to party (I’m woefully over-generalizing here). Now it’s like they saw the Al Gore movie and they have a fucking score to settle. Asshole hurricanes. Why don’t you stick to the ocean where you belong? Your kind are NOT welcome here.

Before you think I’m making light of the situation (and if you do, it’s time to get off the “over sensitive” bus), I want to turn this into a rant about Austin (the city) and how we cope with exciting weather events that may or may not come our way. You tell any Austinite that any sort of storm or rain or anything is coming and people immediately take to I-35 to cause as many traffic delays as they can. It’s how we cope with things here. Storm coming? Let’s go cause a traffic jam! Exciting event? Look, an interstate!

A few days before the storm, the city was in full fuck freak-out mode, made all the more hilarious in retrospect by the fact that we did not get a drop of rain! I had to go to the store Thursday night, long after forecasters in the area had said “my bad” and it was apparent most of the storm would miss us. But oh boy! It was naturally pandemonium. You would have thought The Beatles were somehow reuniting and the only way to get into the concert was to stock up on batteries, bottled water, and powdered eggs. I was at the store cause I had to be, I was completely out of food, but I have to admit that I was a bit curious to see how everyone was acting. And they did not disappoint. I was in line for like 45 minutes and surveyed what people were buying in case the world ended. Yes, microwavable stuff is good! That will be so easy to fix when the power goes out! Microwaves work on imagination! Stocking up on meat? What a FABULOUS idea! Condoms? On second thought, that’s actually thinking ahead…

This kinda sort of reminded me of Ice Storm ‘07, from whence Arm Storm and Storm Storm and Smell Storm et al got their names. Everyone remember that? In January 2007, the mother of all ice storms hit Austin. Now, in the north, I imagine this would be called “Tuesday” but here, it was epic! The city completely shut down for two days. Everything was closed and there was no where to go. I sat in my apartment and watched the longest movies I could and became somewhat of a JFK assassination aficionado (JFK is a long movie). Now, while we might have overreacted, I will admit that Ice Storm ‘07 was a pretty BFD. For the first time ever, I had to use an ice scraper on my car. I didn’t even know how to use the thing. Apparently beating your windshield with it is wrong. After two days inside, with no contact with the outside world, rumor spread that Taco Cabanna might be open. I hit the road. Huh, driving in this really isn’t all that hard. You just have to, you know, put down the fucking cell phone once in a while and maybe signal your turns. Maybe we should try this everyday! Long story short, Taco Cabanna was open, the city did not freeze to death, and we were all a little embarrassed with ourselves in the morning (seriously, no one did a single thing for TWO DAYS!).

So like I said, in retrospect, it’s probably for the best that nothing happened in Austin. It was sunny all weekend and, to top things off, a cold front came in and now the city is more beautiful than ever. These refugees are never going to leave! But things might go south on September 27, when ACL Storm ‘08 collides with Texas-Arkansas-Redneck Fans Storm ‘08. I plan on not leaving my house for two days. I’ve stocked up on microwavable stuff, meat, and condoms. Ah, who am I kidding? I chose M&Ms over the prophylactic.

I Went to a Family Reunion and All I Got Was This Smelly Car

For Labor Day weekend, I went to the big family reunion. Before you run away in horror and stop reading, don’t worry. I’m not going to rehash every single detail from the weekend as I am wont to do. You’ve all been to family reunions before and you know how they go. It seems that most people hate them, or at least tolerate the event, but I love mine. On my dad’s side, that is. They drink. My mom’s side? Eh, not so much…but I digress. I’ve had a blast at these things since I was a kid, when we would eat cookies all day, build forts with long-lost cousins, and stay up till past midnight playing Mario Kart on the Super Nintendo.

But my how things change when you are an adult! I don’t know if it was always this way, or if I am just now catching onto it, but these reunions get really, really fun! And by fun, I mean alcohol and food soaked. We played beer/wine pong. We sang karaoke. We did tequila shots. And everyone is so much cooler now. Those cousins you built forts with? They’ve served a tour in Iraq and almost got a leg blown off! Mario Kart? We’ve moved on to Fuck the Dealer, thank you very much. And like I said, we have an absolute blast. My family, for the most part, gets along really well, especially the young ‘uns. But it occurred to me that, at some point, we’re the ones who are going to have to start running this show. So we better get out kicks in now. Cause my generation of the family does not have the organizational skills to pull off a reunion. And if we do, it’s going to be a keg and a beer pong table somewhere in a pasture. And most of the attendees might not be family.

I also want to add that little cousins are a lot of fun, but after playing “shoot the bad guy” for like three hours straight with my five-year-old second cousin, you kind of get it, you know? I died like eight times and was like, “Okay, I’m dead for real this time. I’m going to go drink. Have fun!” And he’d be all, “Pretend… pretend… pretend… [he's out of breath here] pretend like you didn’t die and you came back to life.” And I’m all, “Well that’s impossible. No one comes back to life. And God is dead on the battlefield!” And he has no idea what I’m talking about. He just says, “Pretend… pretend.. pretend like you’re the bad guy now.” And I’m thinking this will get me permanently killed sooner and thus out of the game quicker. So I say, “sure.” And he punches me in the balls. That NEVER happened when Jill was the bad guy.

Anyway. The long lasting effects of the reunion are, 1) memories (albeit hazy) of lots of fun, 2) a sore sack and, 3) the stench of death in my car.

Allow me to expand on that last one. At some point, an uncooked breakfast casserole, with eggs and cheese and milk and other perishables, was placed in the trunk of my car to take home later that night. Well, they spill, naturally. So I attempt to clean it up, not really paying that much attention, and it really didn’t spill all THAT much. So I go to bed that night, not even thinking about it, confident that the casserole will taste great in the morning.

Well, it did. Tasted really good. This is Monday morning, and I go drive back to Austin that afternoon. I remember thinking something in my car smelled a little weird, but nothing too big. After all, I hadn’t exactly taken a shower that day. I was waiting till I got back to my apartment cause getting into the bathroom at my parent’s house requires you to take a number like at the DMV. So I think nothing of the smell and go to bed that night, not even thinking about it, confident that that Bagleful in the fridge is going to taste great in the morning.

Well, it did. So I get ready for work, go out to the car, and Oh man! I definitely smell something now. I sniff myself, distinctly remembering that I had showered (I know cause I was singing “Great DJ” kinda loud). But I figure, hey, we all have off days. We don’t always smell our best. And I don’t like my coworkers all THAT much so this’ll serve them right for pissing me off ever. I still don’t even think of the casserole spill.

After work, back in the car, and holy hell. It smells like wet feet covered in moth balls and tuna. And poop. I still can’t figure out what it could be. So I’m driving home with the windows rolled down, trying to remember if I hit a deer or an armadillo or a cat over the weekend.

Go home, change, go to Morgan’s to watch 90210 (another post for another day, but it was great!) On the way over there, my mom calls and then it hits me. The casserole! When I stop and pull over, I open the trunk just to confirm my theory. OMFGDJHCSOB! (try figuring out that acronym. You can do it!). It smells like the Porta-Poties at ACL mixed with wet feet and moth balls and dog poop and tuna and all that other stuff and then mixed in with the Porta-Poties from a construction site. It was bad. And I naturally freak out, afraid that the smell is going to attach to me a la Seinfeld. When I get home, I Febreeze the trunk, totally spray it down, air it out a little, scrub it a bit, yadda yadda yadda. Doesn’t help. How did this happen? I didn’t spill that much casserole (I think…).

The next day, I take it to get shampooed and vacuumed. I open the trunk, and the cleaners were like “Did you murder a dog or something?” And I just smiled and said, “Fix it.” Like I was in the mob. Like they shouldn’t mess with me. Pretty sure this didn’t work. Well, an hour and $50 later, I get the car back. I think it smells okay. I can’t really tell, there’s so much other odor in there. But the damn thing sure looks clean (as clean as it’s ever been). So I go back to work, not even thinking about it, confident that the Gardenburger I will be having for lunch will taste great.

Well, it did. When I get ready to go home, I check the car again. IT STILL FUCKING SMELLS! So now it’s time to go medieval on this Detroit piece of shit. I:

-sprayed the back with some sort of car spray
-scrubbed the shit out of all the carpet with soap and water and removed the jack and spare tire in case they were the smelly bastards
-sprayed another half a can of car spray
-poured baking soda all over it so my trunk looks like Scarface’s desk.
-scrubbed again
-more baking soda
-more car spray
-opened one of those cans of air freshener that kinda remind me of Spam and set it back there
-spray the interior of the car
-hang a UT air freshener from the rear view while inexplicably humming “The Eyes of Texas”
-keep the windows open, confident the smell will drive away any would-be car-sleeping hobos.

That was just about two days ago, and it’s still holding up. I don’t think I can smell the casserole anymore but I can’t really tell. Maybe I’ve gotten used to the smell, or maybe it’s because my car now smells like a it collided with a big fake artificial vanilla bean. Seriously, the artificial vanilla smell of my car makes my eyes water. It’s not worse than the smell before, but My God! I’m going to check it in a minute to see where we are after this morning when I took out the Spam vanilla in the back cause I couldn’t take it anymore. Fingers crossed!

And so much for a short post.

The Olympics! (Yay!) They’re Over (aww)

Ah, the Olympics. Every four years (and kinda sorta every two) they force me to sit for weeks at a time, staring blankly at my TV screen, watching sports that at no other point in my life would even remotely interest me. Seriously, did you know that competitions is most of the Olympic events happen EVERY YEAR? But when I turn on the TV, and come to like the World Championship of Gymnastics, I’m all “fuck that” and I go look for something more entertaining. But put those Olympic rings on the screen and I am SO THERE (and for some reason, an expert). 

The first Olympics I remember were the ‘92 Barcelona Summer games. I watched them sort of passively, since everyone else in the house was, and patiently waited for them to end so the Ninja Turtles could come back on or something. But by the 94 Lillihammer and 96 Atlanta Olympics rolled around, I was absolutely transfixed. Especially those Atlanta games. I decided then and there, in the house that our family lived in in Gatesville with one bathroom for the five of us, that I was going to one day be in the Olympics. That’s one of those dreams that might have died. 

98 Nagano was of course big, cause they were in Japan and, if you know me, just say “Japan” and I’m all “Watashi wa Nihon ga daisuki desu!” (still got it all these years later!). I remember those being a big deal because snowboarding was made a sport, which once again I could care less about but because it’s the effing Olympics I act like snowboarding is God’s gift or something. I hear that the games might be coming to Tokyo again in a few years, which would kick so much ass I don’t even know how much ass it would kick. If I couldn’t get away from the TV for Beijing, imagine if you combine the SUMMER Olympics and Japan. My ass hurts just thinking about it (cause, you know, I’d be sitting down so much). 

For some reason, I skipped the 00 Sydney games completely. I don’t remember watching a single event. Watched a lot of the 02 Salt Lake City games. This is where everyone hated America because A) they were in America, B) we won a lot, and C) people thought we got too much attention for 9/11 when bad stuff happens all the time all over the world. Well, you know what, fuck you, rest of the world. That’s what the Olympics taught me. But, as it just so happens, I was sick (for reals) the entire time the games were on so I just laid in bed and watched nothing but ice skating and skiing and hockey and curling and the like. It was wonderful. 

When 04 Athens rolled around, things started to get unhealthy. I estimate that I watched roughly 93% of televised coverage. This was the time when I got my first DVR, so I was able to speed up a bunch of the stuff (really, do you need to see shit like rowing at its normal speed? Do you really need to see it at all?). They were also in Athens, which is cool cause it’s like, you know, the birthplace of the Olympics and stuff. And I knew more about myself, so swimming was a much more enjoyable event to watch. And there was that one swimmer, that one guy, who I liked back then but was kinda sick of him by the end of the recent games. I think I watched the 06 Torino games. I seem to remember skiing. But it’s a blur. 

Which brings me (finally) to the 08 Beijing games, and I had a blast. I missed the opening ceremony cause I was helping my sister buy a computer but, from what I hear, they were fake anyway and I could have done just as real a job with Legos. If I went through every event I watched, we’d be here longer than Billy and Gretchen’s Wedding post, and anyone who read would tell me to “shut the hell up” and never read again. So, here are a few quick bullet points:

-Michael Phelps is great and all, but Jesus H! NBC treated him like God or something. When he won team races, they were like “and Phelps does it!” If I were his teammate, I would seriously consider finding another sport. And why did he have a handlebar mustache before the games? 

-And speaking of swimming, how much ass do the UT people kick? Seriously, the water might as well have been burnt orange. 

-I might even watch diving and synchronized diving apart from the Olympics since it’s my new second favorite sport. And congrats to Matt Mitcham. Who, you might ask? It’s okay. NBC didn’t tell you about him. Stopping the Chinese from sweeping the diving medals was not a big enough story, I guess. 

-We might have the dorkiest looking men’s gymnastics team ever. Seriously, this looks like something out of Tiger Beat circa 1986:

-I think I can cut rowing out of my Olympic intake and not really notice. 

-The track events came off as really boring this year, even with all the Usain Bolt stuff. Maybe I’ve just moved on to other events? This used to be my favorite part. Did anyone else notice a lack of excitement?

-I missed all the taekwondo. And the ping pong. That pisses me off. 

-The closing ceremonies were really, really boring. I turned them off. 

-China. What a shady, shady place. I felt bad for every Chinese athlete who didn’t get the gold, cause you know the government was holding their grandma or dog hostage. I don’t want to take the time to list every questionable thing they did (like employ 9 year olds on the gymnastics team, shutting out the press, covering up the death of tourists, etc.), cause that would take longer than Billy and Gretchen’s wedding post. Suffice to say, I was surprised more people didn’t speak up about China. Now, I know they were the host country and you have to be nice. But still. And NBC basically sucked their dicks (China’s, not their own). It would be nice to think that maybe hosting the games would make for some change in China. We’ll see. I’m not holding my breath or anything. But, man, I really want to visit China now! 

I could go on forever, even though I already have, with impressions of the games but I think you get the point. I am OBSESSED with watching the Olympics, staying up till one, watching stuff I don’t care about, ignoring totalitarian governments, stuff like that. And I can’t wait until the next summer events in London cause London is cool and everything. Yeah, I know there’s a winter one in Vancouver to tide me over. But if you haven’t gathered it by now, the winter ones don’t excite me as much. Why? Too much clothing. 

And lest you think I will be glum about the Olympics ending, football season starts this weekend!

In Which I Unearth Writings From My Youth!

Can I just say first off how awesome it is that the ATX is finally getting some rain, and how nice it is to watch out the window?

I had this brilliant idea to post about all the pets I’ve ever had, because they were all beloved and they all have funny stories attached to them. One broke my nose, two became blind and hairless, and one we thought had a really large ass but it turned out she had cancer. So by funny stories, I mean bizarrely tragic. But when I sat down to write the post in TextEdit like I usually do, I noticed that it was beginning to get a bit long. And by long, I mean it was ten pages (double-spaced in Word, just cause I was curious). And I wasn’t even through the dogs yet. Ten pages! When you’ve had six dogs, three cats, three hamsters, and a chicken like I’ve had (told you I was from the sticks), I guess there’s no way it can be brief. So now I don’t know what to do with this post. I could make it into a recurring series, but I just don’t see people caring that much. I mean, I spent some time on it (it ain’t easy to write ten pages). So what do I do with it? I think I’m just going to complete it, all fifty pages or whatever, and save it for my eventual memoirs.

But since we’re on the subject of childhood (I guess), I thought I’d share a discovery I made when I was at home a few weeks ago. I was helping my mom clean out some boxes from our storage house (where all my childhood memories are eaten by rats) when I came across some spirals. And what were in these spirals, you might ask? Stories that I had written as a kid! Yes, I came across a treasure trove of vintage, first edition stories written by me in my formative years. I knew this was something I would have to share, if only to display how awesome I was as a kid.

The first thing I noticed about these stories was hardly any of them were finished. Yes, even at that young age, I was a tortured novelist, fraught and anguished by the toils of writer’s block, and couldn’t for the life of me finish anything. The same is true to this day. The second thing I noticed was, apart from some stilted dialog and on-the-nose narrative (I was in elementary school!), some of the ideas were not half bad. It embarrasses me, but I want to share the plot lines of a few of my favorites.

First up we have “The Craft”. Mind you, this was years before my brilliant title was stolen and used for a pretty bad teen witch movie, which in turn was made into a pretty bad (but it had its moments!) teen boy witch movie, The Covenant. But back to my “The Craft.” The story concerns a scientist who finally gets around to making one of those hovercrafts that we’ve all been bitching about. You see, World War III has just ended, and there’s world peace and all that nonsense, so scientific minds are able to sit down and invent shit like hovercrafts. So he’s a brilliant scientist, everyone loves him, until he goes mad. You see, he’s also invented some sort of cream that makes things invisible. Thats right! And he decides he wants to kill a bunch of people. So he makes his hovercraft invisible. How does he do this? Well, he’s also invented a container that does not become invisible when invisible cream is put inside it (you following yet?). He stacks tons of these barrels against the wall and, in a scene truly representative of my knack for dramatic flare, crashes the hovercraft into the barrels, causing invisible cream to cover him and the hovercraft. Now, he stalks the streets of New York City in his invisible craft! Don’t you see how scary that is? It’s a car that’s INVISIBLE and IT’S ABOUT TO RUN OVER YOU!

Well, eventually two cops catch wind of his little plan and have to stop him. It goes on for several pages, people die, cops are frustrated, and so on. BUT! The cream has a weakness. If it gets water on it, you can see the object again (so bite me, M. Night Shyamalan). The scientist crashes the car into a lake and, AHHH!, everyone can see him! So the cops chase him. The scientist ends up boarding a ship headed for the new Moon Colony. After a dramatic fight on the space ship, the scientist is taken down and put to trial. And the world continues on in bliss.

Now that’s a hell of a story, if I do say so myself. Sure, a little unbelievable at parts. And I’m pretty sure that plot line was used in a Batman: The Animated Series episode. But man, I had three-act structure down and everything. In fact, I’m a bit jealous of my younger self. The today me would never write a story so over the top stupid (okay, maybe one or two, What Goes Around Comes Around for those of you who remember THAT little project). And I think I was a better speller back then.

But my favorite, FAVORITE, story that I ran across was called “Cost.” Now, this was one of the ones I didn’t finish, and it’s a damn shame. Just listen to this plot: humanity has spread across the galaxy, colonizing and all that stuff. One of the planets they choose to inhabit is called Cost. Why is it called “Cost?” To remind them of the great “cost” it took to spread to the stars (yes, in the fourth grade, I thought about things like that). However, this planet has a little problem. There’s no water (which means nothing would live there in the first place, but I digress…) No water means there’s no oceans. No oceans means there’s no TECTONIC PLATES! With no tectonic plates, the geological pressure that builds under the surface can’t release itself! You know what? Here’s an excerpt from the story that should explain it better. It is presented entirely unedited, just as I wrote it whenever it was that I wrote it:

Dr. Mead ran his fingers through his hair as he listened to Dr. Pace lecture them about the problem.
“I can’t explain it,” Dr. Pace said frantically. “On Earth, we didn’t have to worry about a little pressure. We had volcanos [sic] and earthquakes. Here, on this planet, a little pressure could kill us all.”
Dr. Mead finally spoke. “If a little pressure was that dangerous, why did we move to this planet?”
“I don’t know,” said Dr. Pace.
The Mayor, who was also in the room, cleared his throat. “I can explain that. When the scientific pioneers landed heer [sic] they found only rock beneeth [sic] the earth.”
“So what could happen?” asked Dr. Mead.
“Well,” said Dr. Pace. “If it builds up more, this whole planet will explode.”

Did you get that? THE PLANET IS GOING TO EXPLODE! THERE’S NO TECTONIC PLATES. First off, why the fuck is The Mayor even there and how come he knows more than the scientists? And I think Dr. Mead got his name from the fact that I was writing in a Mead notebook. My creativity had limits, it would appear.

As I said, I didn’t finish this one. But there was a bit of a rough outline of where this epic was headed. Everyone, naturally, freaks the fuck out and they evacuate the planet just as it explodes! And they go someplace else. Cut to a few years later. One of the kids who escaped the disaster is cruising in his spaceship with his crew around the area where the planet was and, holy shit, it’s still there! Why? Didn’t it blow up? Well, they land and explore the surface. As it turns out, and I swear I am not making any of this up, the earth of Cost was highly magnetic and the planet had a strong magnetic field. When the planet blew up, the pieces eventually drifted back into place. Cause, you know, that’s what magnets do.

So while the crew is there the planet, naturally, decides to release its pressure and blow up again. Funny how that timing worked out. So they get out in time as the planet explodes again (that’s right, I wrote a story with TWO exploding planets!). And then the people decide to colonize Cost again cause apparently it’s the heroin of planets and they can’t realize the need to leave well enough alone. They just know that, every twenty years or so, they have to leave for a bit while the planet passes gas. The End.

Those were just two of the stories that I found. There were a few more, but these were by far my favorites. And you know what? I’m pretty damn proud of them. And I’m pretty damn proud of you if you made it this far. I mean, come on. That “Cost” story? Brilliant! I can SO see Michael Bay optioning that one from me. And “The Craft” would make a great Sci-Fi Channel Original Movie. You might have to change the title though. Anyone out there write when they were kids? Were you as brilliant (or stupid) as me?

I could talk about the Olympics, but I was going to save that until they were all over. Needless to say, I’ve been watching quite a bit of them. More than probably healthy. And we still have another friggin week to go! They’ve been fun, and I have a few things to say (not ten pages worth, sadly) but I’ll get to those later.