Northwest Pennsylvania Collegiate Academy recently installed three solar panels on their roof, at a cost of $112,000.  The claim is that the solar panels will generate enough electricity to “power an average home.”  No doubt someone is feeling good about how this investment will be environmentally friendly, reduce greenhouse gases, etc.  However, from any rational point of view, this spending is a colossal waste of money.

Let’s assume that an “average home”  requires $2,000/year for electricity.  This seems a bit high, since we pay much less than that, and we have an electric dryer that is always on.  (When you have five kids, you create a lot of laundry.)  This means that at 0% interest, the payback period for this “investment” would be 56 years.

I work in the private sector. If I submitted a capital equipment request to my boss, and told him that it would pay for itself in 56 years, he would have my head examined.  Most equipment doesn’t even last 56 years, so it won’t even be around to pay for itself.  Heck, the entire school will probably not exist in 56 years, at least not with it’s current name.  From an economic viewpoint, it makes more sense to take the $112,000, invest it, and use the interest to pay the utilities.

But someone will say that the investment reduces greenhouse gas emissions and is therefore good for the environment, and is worthwhile even if the economic justification is not there.  This reasoning doesn’t work either.  It takes lots of energy to create, install, and maintain a solar panel.  Most solar energy systems use batteries to store energy (otherwise you don’t have electricity at night), and the batteries need to be replaced every decade or so.  Also, they are made of toxic chemicals.  Popular battery chemistries are Lead-Acid (that’s lead plus sulfuric acid), Nickel-Cadmium (two carcinogens), Nickel-Metal-Hydride, and Lithium-Ion.  The creation and replacement of these batteries creates its own environmental difficulties that may outweigh any benefits of reduced emissions.

Finally, solar power works best in the summer.  Guess when most of the kids won’t be around to use the energy that is generated?

The school will also use the panels for “research projects.”  That is also a waste.  If you want to use a solar panel for experiments, you can buy something like this or these and do just as many experiments for a lot less money.  Some of these solar panels can even be programmed to follow the sun, and they will generate enough electricity to keep the student’s cell phones charged.

If you are a City of Erie taxpayer, you can console yourself somewhat by knowing that the school district is not wasting Erie citizens’ money.   This is funded by a PA Department of Energy grant, so they are wasting the money of all Pennsylvanians.

So spoke The Grim Reaper in Monty Python’s The Meaning of Life. Englishman: yes; balls: still there when I last checked, but by this time tomorrow they could well resemble two shrivelled raisins and be as hard to locate as Osama Bin Laden. Perhaps not the most sensible of fiftysomething pastimes, tomorrow I am about to undertake what is known as The Grim Challenge, an eight-mile run over hills, through mud and deep water on land used to test army vehicles.

Extremely grim, especially for the bald-headed man just left of centre that found a pothole.

Apparently it helps the emergency services if you wear a luminous hat.

If running the Grim Challenge is not mad enough, a group of fellow runners I would loosely describe as friends are dressing up as 1980s wrestlers, group-leader Andy planning to make an appearance as Brutus “The Barber” Beefcake, apparently so called as he would knock his opponents out with a sleeper hold and then cut their hair. No disrespect to gay men, but having taken a look at his costume the name Brutus “The Bender” Beefcake comes to mind.

I personally will be drawing the line at a luminous hat.

The not-at-all-gay-looking "Brutus "The Barber" Beefcake.

...And his not-at-all-gay-looking doll.

Freedom is fun and expression is good.  These Obama-mocking mark-ups are fun and good.

Personal Favorite:

They Went Full Retard

They just don’t learn, do they? From today’s The Argus:

Brighton photographer stopped for taking ‘terror’ festive lights photos
A photographer wanted to capture images of Christmas lights – but ended up having his details recorded under anti-terror laws. Andrew White, 33, from Kemp Town, Brighton, was taking snaps of the decorations in Burgess Hill town centre when two Police Community Support Officers started following him as he walked to work. The two female PCSOs then stopped him and asked why he had been taking pictures and if he was a professional photographer.

When he asked why they wanted to know, the PCSOs told him it was to do with counter-terrorism legislation and demanded his personal details, including his name and address. Mr White said: “I had nothing to hide so I just provided the details. Now I’m concerned about where those details are going to end up. I only took one or two photos but even if I had taken more, who are they to say what is too many? I don’t think taking too many photos in the street warrants being considered some kind of terrorist threat, which is what they were suggesting. I think the money spent on getting PCSOs to waste my time and harass me in the street could be better spent elsewhere.”

Mr White said the two women PCSOs were polite but they insisted that they had to take his details because they had stopped him. A Sussex Police spokesman said the officers spoke to Mr White because they were concerned he was taking too many photographs in a busy shopping area. He said: “They were acting in good faith, balancing individual liberty against the need to ensure public safety.”

Under the 2002 Police Reform Act PCSOs have the power to demand the name and address of a person suspected of committing a criminal offence or for antisocial behaviour. However, the growing use of this power to stop photographers is being criticised.

On Sunday, BBC staff photographer Jeff Overs told the Politics Show how was stopped by PCSOs for taking a picture of a sunset.

So just what the fuck is the law? Firstly, Section 44 powers can only be exercised by PCSOs in the presence of a constable, and these powers themselves only apply in areas where an “authorisation” has been given.

According to the Home Office (H/T Curly):

“There is no legal restriction on photography in public places, and there is no presumption of privacy for individuals in a public place.

It is for the Chief Constable to ensure that Officers and Police Community Support Officers are acting appropriately with regards to photography in public places, and any queries regarding this should be addressed to the Chief Constable.”

This was reiterated by Shahid Malik, Parliamentary Under-Secretary of State for the Home Department, who made this statement in the Commons (my emphasis):

Let me start by saying that our counter-terrorism laws are not designed or intended to stop people taking photographs. That is simply not their aim. People have the right to take photographs in public places for legitimate reasons and we will do everything we can to uphold that right… I accept that there are concerns about how some of our laws are being, or might be, applied. There are two separate issues and I would like to deal with each in turn. First, concerns have been expressed about the stop-and-search powers used under section 44 of the Terrorism Act 2000. As hon. Members will know, section 44 enables the police to stop and search anyone within an authorised area for the purposes of searching for articles of a kind that could be used in connection with terrorism. The powers do not require a reasonable suspicion that such articles exist. That is a useful power, but it is also wide-ranging, and concerns have been expressed that the power is being used to stop people taking photographs—whether of buildings or of people—within authorised areas. There are also concerns that cameras are being confiscated as part of such searches. Those are genuine concerns that people have raised.

I would like to make it clear that section 44 does not prohibit the taking of photographs. In November last year, the National Police Improvement Agency issued revised guidance on the use of section 44 that made it clear that the power does not stop the taking of photographs in an authorised area and that the police should not use those powers to prevent people from taking pictures. The police may stop and search someone who is taking photographs in an authorised area, just as they may stop and search any member of the public, but the powers should not be targeted on photographers.

Urban 75’s Photographers Rights And The Law In The UK (essential reading btw) states:

If you’re on a public right of way – such as a public pavement, footpath or public highway – you’re free to take photographs for personal and commercial use so long as you’re not causing an obstruction to other users or falling foul of anti-Terrorism laws or even the Official Secrets Act (frankly, this one is unlikely).

DPP -v- Jones (1999): The Court recognised that the public may enjoy a public highway for any reasonable purpose, provided it does not amount to public or private nuisance or obstruct the highway “by unreasonably impeding the primary right of the public to pass and re-pass: within these qualifications there is a public right of peaceful assembly on the highway.”

There’s nothing stopping you taking pictures of people in public places within reason, but if you start shoving your zoom lens up their nostrils or taking action shots of their every step, there’s a chance you might get a clip around the ear from your aggrieved subject or possibly face a legal charge of harassment or breach of the peace.

Harassment is defined as a ‘course of conduct’ (so it has to happen at least twice) that causes another person ‘alarm or distress’, but we have to say that the bullying and aggressive antics of the paparazzi would suggest that prosecutions are few and far between.

Photographers are free to use their photographs of people taken in public places as they wish – including for commercial gain.

In this video, the narrator politely describes the attitude of the stasi as “flexible and creative…simply making it up as they go along…” But this has cropped up enough times, been discussed at the highest levels, etc. that there can only be two conclusions:

*they don’t have a fucking clue what they are doing

OR

*they know what they can and cannot do, and are instead abusing their authority

Either way, they obviously represent a danger to civil liberties.

It’s a Police State, for sure… but Policed by dangerous incompetents. I’m surprised most of them haven’t been hospitalised for self-inflicted biro injuries, or accidentally swallowing their radio batteries, they’re so fucking dumb.

UPDATE: Photography and Section 44 Abuse of Authority

Anything that you need, I’m here for ya,
whatever I need to be, I’m there for ya,
Unconditional, even when it ain’t cool,
I’m there when you need me,

If you need a laugh, I’m there for you
if you need a place to crash, come on
unconditional, I know you know your my buddy,
and your best-est friend.

Dumb and dumber

Original: Necesito un temblor de esos fuertes una de estas noches. Para salir calato y chapar a mis vecinas

Copia:  no puedo ver caderas cholopower inca proof por las calles. Es demasiado. Mi examen psicologico es una guitarra o coca cola classic

Original:  Busco ruca pa llevarla a una lechonada bailable cerca a Piedras Gordas con los Villacorta

Copia:  Una malcriada me llama y me dice para salir a comer. La que fue la contra del Trome ataca

Original: El twitter es al espermatozoide, lo que una custer es a la Javier Prado.

Copia: El twitter es la peor pesadilla de cualquier sistema de gobierno. salud, van dos.

Aquí, aquí y aquí.

Those of you that come from a land far away that plays, not football, but soccer, may not be up to speed with this, but last week top French International player Thierry Henry caused a storm when his deliberate handball lead to the goal that put Ireland out of next year’s Football World Cup Finals. Ireland’s subsequent calls for the game to be replayed fell on deaf ears.  

In a bid that could be considered somewhat desperate and misguided, news reaches me that Ireland’s faithful fans are boycotting the use of the Henry vacuum cleaner. This could be considered somewhat along the lines of refusing to go swimming after the Watergate scandal.

Thierry Henry's 'infamous' handball.

A naked dwarf for some reason using a Henry vacuum cleaner as a penis extension.

What do you want from me? I have to make fun of these people.

Evidently in Australia, they haven’t realized that wrestling is fake. I hope I didn’t dash anyone’s dreams with that statement. If I did, please visit a site that gives a shit. According to this story (by way of Prowrestling.net) from the Herald Sun, they reported about an attack on Hulk Hogan by Ric Flair at a press conference in Sydney. This line got me rolling:

“This reporter narrowly missed being struck with the table and photographers ducked and weaved as Ric Flair took off his trouser belt and began to whip anyone within range.”

This sentence, along with the article itself, never actually says that Flair hit Hogan with the belt.  Golly, I sure am glad the reporter missed being struck by that table. I’m also glad the reporter used my grandmother’s lingo and called Flair’s pants “trousers”. Hulk Hogan was helped to his feet to help keep this gag going. One positive is that Hogan does know his fans and they’ll eat this stuff up and want to see him get revenge on the tour through out Australia.

The fact that this incident is being covered in a major newspaper just shows you the sad state of media, even outside of this fine country. It’s also more proof that dumb people are out there but somehow, no one knows them. -Kevin

The role of the Agony Uncle was the subject under discussion yesterday on the Robert Elms Show on Radio London.

Apparently, in ye olden days before women were educated to read and write, before the evolution of the personal-advice-giving newspaper Agony Aunt came the Agony Uncle, and women not having sex after the menopause was one piece of Agony Uncle advice.

Obviously, once a woman’s days of producing children were over, there was no point in continuing with the rather unpleasant and messy business of sex.

That's enough. I don't care if the one on the right's on crutches - no more sex!"

<<<<—-CLIIICK ME!

With what’s been a pretty grim time  for both British and American troops of late I’d like to doff my cap to Chrissy Schmidt, wife of bomb disposal expert Olaf Schmidt, killed attempting to diffuse a bomb in Afghanistan just days before the end of his tour of duty. Not only has Mrs Schmidt lived with the knowledge that her husband’s job was to stare death in the face on a daily basis, when he does cop his inevitable lot she welcomes his body home with a thumbs up and a smile, declaring “My husband is home”.

A true lesson in dignity and bravery.

Chrissy Schmidt, proudly wearing her husband's medals.

Perhaps not the same lesson, but quite possibly with just cause, Jacqui Janes, her son Jamie killed by a bomb in Afghanistan on 5 October, goes to The Sun “newspaper” when a hand-written letter of condolence from Prime Minister Gordon Brown contains a number of spelling mistakes.

Now I’m not one to defend Gordon Brown, but we all know he only has one working eye, and that’s about as much use as a chocolate teapot.

Surprise, surprise, and when Gordon Brown telephones Jacqui Janes the next day to apologise, it just so happens that she has a tape recorder next to the phone and records the conversation, getting herself another fifteen minutes of fame on the front page of The Sun. Not that I’m suspicious, but I can’t say I keep a tape recorder next to the phone just in case the Prime Minister happens to call to offer his congratulations on an amusing blog. Far be it from me to point the finger, but I can’t help but suspect a little bit of gutter-press phone-tapping…

"Well done to55er - very amusing!"

Year in and year out this game has been the game to see each and every season. Former division foes, when the realignment occurred these two teams were only guaranteed to meet each other once every three seasons. But due to both teams being on top in their divisions for so long the last time these two did not play against in each other was the 2002 season. This year’s match-up is one of their biggest meetings yet. The Patriots are 6-2 and look poised to make a run this year. The Colts are one of only two unbeatens and have a 8-0 record. If the Colts win this game they will be in a strong position to finish with the number 1 seed in the AFC and home field advantage throughout the playoffs. If the Patriots win they will put a definitive chink in the Colts armor and put themselves in a strong position to at the very least earn a bye in the first round of the playoffs.

So what should we expect in this game? Who knows but I am going to bullet point this game to death. Hopefully I can give you insight on things you should know….

• The Colts are 8-0 but have faced only 2 teams with a winning record thus far. Their opponents combined winning percentage is .400.
• The Patriots are 6-2 with loses in week 2 to the now 4-4 Jets and week 5 to the now 6-2 Broncos. Both games were on the road. The Patriots 6 wins have come against opponents with a combined .375 winning percentage.
• Peyton Manning has 16 TDs and 5 INTs on the season.
• Tom Brady has 16 TDs and 5 INTs on the season.
• No not all of my bullet points will be symmetrical comparisons but it is a nice place to start I guess, also did I mention I hate the Colts and find so much joy in seeing the every popular “Peyton Manning Face.”

• The Colts will be without most of their starting secondary in this game. Bob Sanders, Marlin Jackson, and Kelvin Hayden are all not likely to play.
• Dwight Freeney has at least 1 sack in every game this season. That is a mark of consistency, and with rookie Sebastian Vollmer starting at tackle for the Patriots this could be a huge match-up within the game.
• I heard today on the radio that Brady and presumably the team calls Vollmer “Sea Bass”. I loved this and reminds me of the movie Dumb and Dumber and the scene with “SeaBass” played by Boston Bruins’ great Cam Neely…

• That reminds me of my favorite line from the movie. It comes from this scene…

• You gotta love this line…“something about me not listening enough, I don’t know…I wasn’t really paying attention.”
• I mentioned this yesterday but it is worth reminding everyone…The Colts only average 3.7 yards per rush, 6th worst in the league.
• Peyton Manning and Tom Brady both are world class superstars and both have taken part in things they likely regret, remember this…

or this…

• Joseph Addai has been a part of 30.29% of the Colts plays. That means he is the rusher, passer, or intended receiver on nearly 1/3 of all plays the Colts run.
• Dallas Clark leads all TEs in “targets” this season and has been nearly unstoppable this year.
• The Patriots have not allowed a TE to gain over 46 yards all season. Clark has had only two games with less than 46 yards, and is averaging almost 88 yards a game. The Patriots have played 2 other TEs who are in the top 10 in “targets.” They held Tony Gonzalez and Kellen Winslow to a combined 3 receptions and 24 yards.
• The Colts lead the league in defensive points allowed. They only allow 13.5 ppg.
• The Patriots are second in the league in defensive points allowed with only 14.4 ppg.
• Everyone knows that Tom Brady is married to the world famous Gisele…

• But few people know that Manning has himself a wife as well. Check her out…

• She is pretty good looking, but it really isn’t fair comparing most people to Gisele.
• A lot of people think the real match-up is Manning vs. Belichick. Belichick has won 8 of their 13 match-ups, including the playoffs. But Manning has won 4 of the last 5.
• One of my favorite Pats vs. Colts game was the 2004 season opener when the Colts lost 27-24 when their “liquored up kicker” missed a game tying FG as time expired.
• One of my favorite images from this rivalry was Rodney Harrison spiking the ball after making an INT in the endzone in the AFC Championship game…

This was my screen-saver on my laptop for years.

• My most crushing memory was when the Colts came back against the Pats in the 2006 AFC Championship game. I was watching at a friends house. Needless to say we still discuss our “all hands in” huddle we had before the last drive where Brady was intercepted. I have seen my Patriots lose the AFC Champ game and the Super Bowl. Both were equally painful, but I will say this, losing the Super Bowl is bad, but after the parade you really do not see highlights of it on Sports Center for the most part. But when we lost the AFC Champ game I had to deal with 2 weeks of Super Bowl hype. Both are horrendous don’t get me wrong and losing the Super Bowl is worse but at least I can watch ESPN a couple days later.
• Yesterday I showed you the great Randy Moss catch 2 years ago in this very game. I want to show you my favorite Reggie Wayne catch of all time. It was not in a game between these two teams but it was truly outstanding…(you have to click the link, I wanted to give you guys the top quality version…

http://www.nfl.com/videos/houston-texans/09000d5d80b5ddad

• Both Brady and Manning have been on SNL but I have to give it to Manning with this skit…

• That’s pretty good but Manning never was on Entourage. Even Brady can make Turttle a fan…

• I have kind of strayed from the game and match-ups we should expect Sunday night, but who cares. I am sure you all know I will be picking the Patriots. This game is really one of those must see exciting games. Hopefully it lives up to the hype. I know that Andrea Kramer will be excited to see Tom Brady this Sunday…

• She was a little too into that interview. All I can say is get ready because as the immortal Randy Moss once said this game is going to be “Straight Cash Homie.” (and yeah maybe I took that out of context)

I covered the Kings-Blackhawks game last night.  This is what wound up in the paper.  Below is what did not.

-+-
The United Center is loud.  Really.  Loud.  MADHOUSE ON MADISON hangs along the facing of the third deck in big, red, illuminated letters.  As if the noise isn’t reminder enough.  When the anthem singer arrived at “AND THE ROCKETS’ RED GLARE!” the crowd, already louder than any other crowd in any other arena I’d been in during a national anthem, kicked the decibel level up to MELT.  Every hair on my body froze.  Then my ear drums exploded.

-+-
I was close enough to lick Marian Hossa after the game.  As he strutted down the “talent hallway” (a term the United Center uses to describe the corridor where the Hawks, Bulls and visiting teams’ dressing rooms are located), I was struck by three things: his righteous hair, his natty black suit, and how much he looks like Western Michigan goaltender Riley Gill.  I should’ve asked him about his bum shoulder, which reportedly will keep him out until Thanksgiving.

-+-
There’s a reason they call the NHL the Never Hungry League.  Players, coaches, media, security guards – everyone eats and eats well.  At the United Center, the dining room and press work room combine to form one giant space full of tables, chairs, work stations and an ice cream sundae bar.  After the game, they erect a logoed background, a podium and rearrange the chairs for Chicago coach Joel Quenneville’s press conference.   Quenneville talks while everyone stares, mouths open, at the barren cafeteria counter, expecting vats of pasta or trays of chicken to suddenly emerge.  (OK, not really).  Unless you have a voucher, you pay $6 to eat.  But you can eat as much as you want before, during and up to an hour after the game.  Team employees eat for free, players included.  In fact, there’s a list – six pages or so – with every person’s name on it:

                             PAULSON, DAN
                             QUENNEVILLE, JOEL
                             THOMPSON, MELISSA
                             TOEWS, JONATHAN
                             VARRA, ANGIE

Think they would’ve believed me if I told them I was Dave Bolland?

-+-
You know how in some comedy movies they cast a token celebrity, who pops up in various situations like a ninja, usually with a message for the main character?  I’m trying to think of an example right now but I can’t, so use your imagination.  Anyway, Ed Olczyk was this celebrity last night.  I kept running into him everywhere.  The hallway during the morning skate.  The elevator.  The LA Kings dressing room.  The media scrum with Kings coach Terry Murray.  The press work room.  The press work room again.  The talent hallway.  The press box.  The press box bathroom.  I kept waiting for him to look at me and say something like, “Don’t write in passive voice!”

-+-
The guys on the Zamboni/ice crew are awesome.  I wandered up the Zam tunnel and stood at the glass behind LA’s net an hour before the game.  At that point, it was just me and a security guard named Felix, who has guarded the visitors’ bench since the United Center opened.  Then I struck up a conversation with Joe, a member of the ice crew.  I told him it was my first NHL game as a journalist and asked if I could stand in the tunnel to watch the pre-game warm up.  “Absolutely,” he said.  I stood six feet from the glass when the teams took the ice.  Suddenly, a pair of hands – one gripping my shoulder, one pushing my back – gave me a jolt.  Joe.  He slid me forward and yanked me to the left, then the right, like a deputy hauling a cuffed suspect to jail.  He squished me right up on the glass.  “Stay there,” he said.  “It’s going to get crowded and you’ll lose your spot.”  At this point, I was so close to the action I could have been LA’s third-string goalie.  For 20 minutes, I watched player after player, hair blowing in the breeze, fire pucks into the top corners of the net, off the posts, off the glass, which, when you’re standing that close, makes your ears ring and your skull vibrate.  Then all 20 of them dive-bombed the net – clank, bang, thump – while Petty’s “Runnin’ Down a Dream” wailed on the sound system.  It was at this point that I lost my NHL virginity.

-+-
I realized late in the third period that I hadn’t spoken one word to another person during the entire game.  A reporter from a suburban paper sat a couple of seats away from me, but he was buried in headphones and notes all night.  So I watched and watched, uninterrupted.  Just the way I like it.

-+-
While hanging around the “talent hallway” trying to look busy before the game (read: see every little detail possible), I suddenly found myself standing in front of the National Hockey League’s leading scorer, Anze Kopitar.  Alone.  Him and his 27 points.  Me and my, uh, press pass.

Me: Hi, Anze.  How are you?

Kopitar: Good, you?

Me: Good.  I’m here from Scott Parse’s hometown covering him tonight.

Kopitar: Oh.

He then walked over to a table, leaned on his elbows and started to leaf through a magazine.  I felt like Jim Carrey in that scene in Dumb & Dumber, when he’s walking across the gas station parking lot and, in an attempt to break the ice with a pair of hip-looking black dudes holding green cups, says, “Big Gulps, huh, guys?”  A beat.  They stare at him blankly.  “Cool!”

-+-
Ryan Smyth, Captain Canada, a 15-year NHL veteran, is old school.  Old school hockey hair.  Old school wooden stick blade, which I watched him slide under the locker room door and bend until he got the curve just the way he wanted it.  After Smyth walked back into the room, satisfied, a member of the Kings’ equipment staff walked out and saw team PR man Mike Kalinowski. 

“Shouldn’t the door be closed right now?” the equipment guy said. 

“Yeah,” Mike replied.  “Ryan had it open.”

The equipment guy smirked.

“Ryan doesn’t know the rules.”

I have to give them credit, my would-be adoptive evangelicals are persistent.  When they left last time they asked if it would be OK if they came back, and I said ……..”Sure”.  Probably not the smartest move, score one for them.  They also remembered my name, two points for them.  Had some additional literature for me this time, wondered if I had read the last stuff (which I actually had surprisingly), and they had some hard-hitting questions for me.  I am not sure exactly where the teach the class on converting heathens, but it is very universal in almost all cases.  Invariably someone in the group used to be an “atheist”, had some kind of vice (usually substance abuse) and was cured by teh jesus.  After the brief testimonial, they hit you: “If st. peter asked you what you did to deserve admittance to heaven, what would you say?”  I decided to go with my standard reply: “Shouldn’t he already know the answer?”  At this point I am assured that he does, but it is important for me to know as well.  Why that is the case isn’t exactly explained.  They want to know if I know what sin is, pretty sure it is dragging someone out of bed at 8:30 while they are eating chips and salsa, and if it’s not, jesus really dropped the ball there.  I go for the “Not acting in accordance with your morals” line, turns out this is not true at all.  Breaking god’s rules are sins, my virtues apparently mean nothing.  Good to know.  I am then informed that forgiveness and admittance into the promised land is FREE!  Holy shit!  FREE!  Wait, wasn’t that credit report supposed to be free as well?  All other religions apparently charge something, but not teh jesus.  It now occurs to me that if time is money, and they are taking what I know to be valuable time, it might not really be free after all.  But that is the snarky answer.  Free my ass.  If you ask me to compromise my beliefs to adhere to some BS religion, that is not free, quite the opposite.  So at this point, I am actually considering prayer to get out of this conversation.  I usually only use prayer for really important things like sports and that one time I asked the unicorn goddess if she could help me get my beer really cold really fast, but things are getting desperate at this point.  And then it happened.  The mother seems to realize that perhaps I would like to get back to eating!  Just the threat of praying gets me what I want!  And as I say goodnight they ask, “Do you mind if we stop back next week?”  I guess I have to read that damn pamphlet now.

On 21^st August 1864 the small market town of Lewes in East Sussex suffered an earthquake measuring 3.1 on the Richter scale; that’s nothing compared to what happens in Lewes each year on 5 November.

Here’s what it says on Wikipedia:

The town’s most important annual event is Lewes Bonfire – Guy Fawkes Night celebrations on the 5^th of November. In Lewes this event not only marks the date of the uncovering of the Gunpowder Plot in 1605, but also commemorates the memory of the seventeen Protestant martyrs… [blah, blah]…

To mark the demise of the 17 martyrs, 17 burning crosses are carried through the town, and a wreath-laying ceremony occurs at the War Memorial in the centre of town. A flaming tar barrel is also thrown into the river Ouse: this is said to symbolise the throwing of the magistrates into the river after they read the Riot Act to the bonfire boys in 1847, but may also be an echo of Samhain traditions. The festivities culminate in five separate bonfire displays, where the effigies are destroyed by firework and flame. Up to 80,000 people have been known to attend this local spectacle, coming from all over the South and sometimes further afield.

Talking of Guy Fawkes Night celebrations, I heard the story earlier of how a man attempted to light a bonfire by standing on top of it, pouring petrol over the bonfire and dropping a lit match. The man receives a posthumous gold in to55er’s Dumb and Dumber Awards.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uv_O7DNZr7U

Lewes Guy Fawkes Night.

The Stanley Hotel in Estes Park, Colorado

 

The Stanley Hotel is a 138-room Georgian hotel in Estes Park, Colorado. Located within sight of the Rocky Mountain National Park, the Stanley offers panoramic views of the Rockies. It was built by Freelan O. Stanley of Stanley Steamer fame and opened on July 4, 1909, catering to the rich and famous. The hotel and its surrounding lands are listed on the National Register of Historic Places.

The Stanley has hosted many famous guests, including the Titanic survivor Margaret Brown, John Philip Sousa, Theodore Roosevelt, the Emperor and Empress of Japan, and a variety of Hollywood personalities. The Stanley Hotel also hosted Stephen King, inspiring him to write The Shining. Contrary to information sometimes published King was living in Boulder at the time and did not actually write the novel at the hotel. Parts of the mini-series version of The Shining were filmed there, although it was not used for Stanley Kubrick’s cinematic version.

The Shining on Blu-ray Disc

The Stanley Hotel shows the uncut R-rated version of Kubrick’s The Shining on a continuous loop on Channel 42 on guest room televisions.

Buy this title Only $9.98

Many believe The Stanley Hotel is haunted, having reported a number of cases. Staff who work in the kitchen next to the ballroom after hours say they have heard a party going on when the room was empty. In one guest room people claim to have seen a man standing over the bed then running into the cupboard. It is further claimed that this same apparition is responsible for stealing jewelery, watches and luggage that has gone missing. Some others reported that they have seen ghosts in their rooms in the middle of the night, just standing in their room then disappearing. Sometimes, people in the lobby can hear the piano playing from the ballroom. When workers check to see whats going on, there would be nobody sitting in front of the piano. Workers think its Freelan O. Stanley’s wife playing it, who used to be a piano player. The television show Ghost Hunters was invited to investigate the hotel, the manager showed them the various places where these accusations occurred. Ghost Hunters discovered some reasons for the various phenomena, including wind and pipes but could not decipher the ballroom incident. Ghost Hunters also claimed to experience some occurrences such as seeing people in hallways then hiding and hearing children running and playing on the floor above them. The biggest occurrence claimed was that during changing of the film in the camera, a table jumped two feet in the air. Ghost Hunter Jason stayed the night in the room with the “ghost thief”, Jason stated that the bed moved, the cupboard doors unlocked and opened and his thick glass by the bed cracked open on the inside.

Stephen King got the idea for The Shining after staying in the almost empty hotel on the night before it closed for an extended period.

The neoclassical hotel was the inspiration for the fictional Overlook Hotel in Stephen King’s novel The Shining. While he and his wife were staying at the Stanley, King conceived the basic idea for the novel. The 1997 television miniseries version of The Shining was filmed at the Stanley, and it has been used as a location site for other films as well, most notably as the “Hotel Danbury” in Dumb and Dumber.

In May 2006, investigators with The Atlantic Paranormal Society (TAPS) investigated the hotel for the SciFi program Ghost Hunters. TAPS returned to the hotel on October 31, 2006 for a live, six hour follow-up investigation. In November 2008, UK channel LIVING broadcast Most Haunted’s investigation of the hotel.

The official website:
http://www.stanleyhotel.com/

I wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise for those expecting something special for the London 2012 Olympics, but artist Shauna Richardson has won a £500,000 National Lottery grant to crochet three thirty-foot lions. The lions will be displayed in a taxidermy case in Nottingham.

Whoever said buying a National Lottery ticket was a tax on the stupid.

Imagine this, only x3 and thirty foot tall, all for the bargain price of £500,000.

I’m happy to announce that I now drive a Mercedes-Benz.  It’s true.  A real in-the-steel-and-glass Mercedes.  The model is a C-180, which is the 4-cylinder, 4-door model.  The smallest engine they make (great gas mileage).  To boot – it’s green, my favorite color.

I’m a doctor now, people.  Apparently helping sick people entitles me to the high-life.

Truth is, here in Germany, the term “hooptie” is a known, legitimate noun.  The term is used to describe nice German cars that are (usually) bought by Americans and then run into the ground.  You can pick up BMW and Mercedes hoopties for 500 euros.

Mine looks just like this one...but way cooler.

My car isn’t exactly a hooptie.  In the States, it would probably have cost at least $5,000, maybe more.  I don’t really know because I’ve never been in the market for Mercedes-es.  But I got mine here for a few thousand bucks.  It’s still in good shape and as long as I take care of it (an expensive proposition in Germany), it should get me around for at least a few years.

That is…unless it takes a few years until my new monument to affluent living is allowed to take me anywhere.

Take the Army’s torrid and longstanding love affair with bureaucracy and combine it with 1000 years of rulership of the masses in Europe, you get the process I dealt with just to be allowed to drive a car.

Buying the car is easy.  But in this Germo-Americo Funkenthink, the quagmire starts there.  You first need a special driver’s license, which requires a half-day class and then a 130 question test ( which I immediately failed by about 15 questions).

You also have to have insurance on a car before you actually register it.  And, the car needs to be inspected.  But you can’t drive it to the inspector’s unless you have it registered and insured.  But if you fail the inspection, you’ve just registered and insured a car that sucks.  So, you have to de-register it (I did that – twice – before I settled on the Mercedes).  De-registering requires a trip to the local customs office (American) plus a second trip to the other customs office (German, 35 min drive), numerous forms, money, waiting and…all the while you still need the insurance.

So, I’ve been a little reticent to drive much unless I have to.  I’m always wondering if I actually have all the paperwork and proof that will allow me to stay out of jail were I to get pulled over.

Instead, I came up with an alternative (heh, heh):

Through some highly unfortunate events in my brother’s life, I ended up with his Harley motorcycle.  Now, make no mistake – I owe him for this very expensive bike.  It was a ‘take-care-of-my-hoss-for-awhile’  kind of proposition.  Of course, being a deeply loyal brother, I immediately agreed to “help out”.  But, not being a big Harley-lover, I…well, I sold it.  And I bought a BMW motorcycle instead.  Initially, I sold it to help fund out trip out here, and a portion of the Harley money was a HUGE help in getting us here.  That said, I GUESS whatever money we had left over should have been sent back to my saintly bro.  But with all these fantastic German road machines around, you sorta just get Beemer Fever.  What was I supposed to do?

And anyway, my bro is about 10,000 miles from me.  Is he really going to come get me when he realizes I sold his Harley?  I mean, c’mon, I did the guy a favor!  BMW vs. Harley is a no-brainer.

Mine's just a LITTLE less shiny and has panniers.

So I now fly along the German Autobahn on a R1150 RS BMW.  Riding a bike like that, in this part of the world (any part of the world if you worship BMW bikes) is an experience that is hard to replicate.  Harder to describe.  At 80 miles an hour, I blow by stunning autumn trees, taking in their blurred resplendence in shimmering hues of gold and yellow and red.  ”My” bike purrs along effortlessly.  When I lean over the gas tank and duck behind the faring, the engine sounds something like a sewing machine, but even softer, maybe more like two feathers rubbing together.

There’s only one problem…Germany is COLD.  The other day I left for work in the dark, road sparkling with frost, at a temp of -2.5 Celsius.  Buh-rrr.  And this is only OCTOBER.

The night before, I had received a notification in the mail that my car did not have the correct license plates due to a dating error in the – you guessed it – insurance policy.  So, should I be pulled over in my esteemed Mercedes for any reason, I could expect to be hog-tied, whipped and sent back to the States crisply folded into a shoe box.

Thus, while my longsuffering wife dealt with the paper-pushers in Hiedelburg, I rode the bike to work, frost and chill notwithstanding.  I do have some decent riding gear I picked up when I first got the Harley.  I have a jacket with armor in the shoulders and arms, and pants with knee and hip pads.  I have big thick gloves – also a “gift” *ahem* from my bro – and good riding boots.  All the gear is made to withstand serious wind and rain.

"Got a little nippy back there going through the pass, eh Har?"

But I’m not sure any gear will hold up for long when receiving a direct 80 MPH sub-freezing air blast for 40 straight minutes.  Mine didn’t.  By the time I got to work, I was so cold most of joints wouldn’t bend.  I walked into the clinic like I was in a body-cast.  I don’t think I even spoke to my first 3 patients that day because I couldn’t unclench my jaw.  I just nodded compassionately with my hands buried in my armpits and gave ‘em whatever drugs they wanted.

I probably should have just sold the Harley and given whatever money we didn’t need back to my brother.  But instead I chose to buy a Beemer with the extra cash and freeze my face off in Germany.  If you love BMW motorcycles, you’ll understand completely.  You’ll probably applaud me for such a wise and intelligent idea.

I’m cheering, anyway.

Just when I thought I’d have to close my blog due to the ozone-depleting methane gas it was generating (or was it carbon dioxide?) it appears that help may be at hand: News reaches me that the latest solution put forward to help combat global warming is to heat limestone until it breaks down into lime and carbon dioxide, then dump the lime into the sea where it will react with carbon dioxide suspended in the water. According to the Department for Dumb Ideas (otherwise known as project sponsors Shell Oil) the lime will absorb almost twice as much carbon dioxide as is produced by the original heating of the limestone.

Well isn’t that good, except the small added factor that the limestone has to be mined and transported to the furnace, and then after heating and separation the lime has to be loaded onto a ship, sailed out to sea and blah, blah, blah…

And what’s needed to fuel ships and other transport and operate furnaces… oil… and who do we know that provides oil… Shell!

Keep going well, keep going sh...

VERDICT:
9/10 Anatomically Correct Snowmen

One of the funniest movies of all time. I don’t know how the Farrelly Brothers are ever going to top this.

Dumb and Dumber is about two complete morons that both get fired on the same day. With nothing to lose and no money left to start their “I Got Worms” pet store, they decide to go on a cross-country road trip because “Dumber” needs to return the girl of his dreams’ briefcase. There’s this whole other plot line about how they’ve gotten themselves mixed up into a botched ransom handoff, but who gives a shit, it’s really about Jim Carrey ripping a waiter’s heart of his chest and Jeff Daniels getting explosive diarrhea.

Best. Plot line. Ever.

I might not be preaching to the choir here, but yes, I will stand by this movie as one of the all-time comedy greats until my dying days. The first time I saw this movie was in third grade with my Dad and my best friend at the time. Little did I know what I was getting myself into. Never before have I laughed so hard at a movie, and there have been few other times where I’ve found myself with a death grip on my groin because I was on the verge of pissing my pants in public. People throw the term “rolling on the floor laughing” around pretty loosely nowadays, what with all this “ROFL” nonsense and all, but this was the one time in my life where I really was out of my seat, gasping for air and rolling around on the horrendously sticky, disease-ridden movie theater floor.

Life was so much simpler in third grade.

And remember when Jim Carrey was great? Back when he was Fire Marshall Bill and Ace Ventura? Man, I miss those days, I think we all miss those days. He was my hero for a while there. Sure he had some duds in the mid-’90s, but he was hilarious, not to mention he was winning back-to-back Golden Globes like he ran the fuckin’ joint. But now, I don’t even know, it’s just not the same. Last good thing he did was Eternal Sunshine five years ago. I guess I just want my old Jim back.

Alright, I need to compose myself.

If you’re looking to see Jim Carrey at his best, here it is, folks. Well, this and the previously mentioned Ace Ventura: Pet Detective, not so much When Nature Calls. It’s pretty obvious that he steals the show as Lloyd Christmas (“Dumber”) because he’s just so over the top and wildly intense to boot. There really aren’t any other Jim Carreys in the world and he is something else to watch. Not much else to say other than that he’s great in this, a high point in his career. But let’s not forget about good ol’ “Dumb” either, played by Jeff Daniels of all people.

For all intents and purposes, Jeff Daniels is pretty well-respected actor. I don’t know whether this was a stroke of brilliance or just a stroke in general that made him take this role, but either way, he’s really freakin’ funny. People tend to overlook the Harry Dunne character in this movie and that’s a shame. Daniels actually has some of the best lines and what I think are the two funniest scenes in the movie (the diarrhea part, of course, and the extreme snowball fight). So props to Jeff Daniels, he really pulled it off and even though he’s not as wacky as his co-star, he’s still a total riot.

Anyway, I’ve seen this movie way too many times in my life. Then again, any time is always a great time to watch Dumb and Dumber. I’m sure the humor isn’t for everyone being that a lot of it is pretty inane and immature, but you gotta give it a chance. Yeah, the story’s practically non-existent, but everything else about it rocks. Extremely quotable, funny from start to finish, and it’s the best thing Jim Carrey and the Farrelly Brothers have ever done for mankind. I think that should about do it.

Well, see ya later.

And, there you go

In an excellent recent conference paper, it was remarked how a particular “buddy” movie (specifically, Superbad) tends to portray an anxious masculinity, or anxious masculinities. This masculinity shows forth a homoerotic longing for the “buddy,” and many of the films that fit into this grouping (genre?) are in fact nothing less than romantic comedies masked by masculine friendship. Displaced desires and “multiple masculinities” result, with strong anxieties reinforcing the same gender stereotypes that produced them in the first place. It strikes one how the Farrelly brothers’ classic Dumb and Dumber fits into this categorization quite perfectly.

Homophobic? Return of the repressed?

As is formulaic in many of these buddy movies, the two main characters begin in the story separated from one another, and cross-cutting gives the viewer simultaneous views of the two in their respective routines. The “routine” nature of these introductory sequences gives clear context as to the normative settings and activities of the characters. It also seems typical to illustrate in these opening scenes how “incomplete” the characters are when on their own. They either show a longing for one another – explicitly – or their failures as individuals indicates their inability to “go it alone.” The rest of the film (usually with the conventional conflict interlude 2/3 of the way in) keeps the two men/boys together in what promises to be ultimately a successful misadventure.

"Austria?! Well then, g'day, mate!"

In Dumb and Dumber, the film opens with Harry (Jeff Daniels) driving the van for his dog grooming business (the “Shaggin’ Wagon”) on his way to a dog show for which he has the canines (“‘dogs’ for the layperson”) prepped. Lloyd (Jim Carrey) is also driving. The first shot in which the viewer sees Lloyd features him rolling down the window to his limo – pretending to be a passenger rather than the driver – and hitting on a woman standing on the sidewalk. His complete ineptitude to utter even one line to her that isn’t seasoned with idiocy demonstrates immediately his incompetence with women. At the same time, the fact that both men begin the film driving automobiles establishes that we are not just about to watch a “buddy” movie, but a road-trip movie – genres that tend to overlap with each other pretty consistently. Once Lloyd picks up Mary to take her to the airport, his speech once again reveals his failure to connect with a woman. As Harry arrives at his destination, the woman who meets him is not romantically attractive to him, but his failure to deliver the dogs in a presentable state confirms that each man in this duo fails to impress women and is, therefore, “castrated,” in the common psychoanalytic parlance.

"They always freak out when you leave the scene of an accident."

They arrive home after another day of failures (“…fell off the jetway again.”) like a married couple (“How was your day?”), plopping into chairs neatly separated by an end table as if to keep one another at a comfortable, yet intimate distance. No sooner do they settle in but Lloyd brings up his encounter with “the most beautiful woman alive.” This is not the last time in the film when physical proximity and alone time between the two men is counteracted by a discussion about the sexual attractiveness of a woman. (Interestingly, the women they discuss vary, but the two men remain loyal to one another.)

She's confined to the background

A few scenes later, Harry agrees to Lloyd’s begging to go to Aspen (“California…beautiful.”) in order to return Mary’s “lost” briefcase to her. Harry’s agreement comes only after Lloyd’s emotional speech (surprisingly articulate for once): “I’m sick and tired of having to eek my way through life. I’m sick and tired of being a nobody. But most of all, I’m sick and tired of having nobody.” Lloyd’s statement, which would seem to be offensive to his friend and roommate Harry, end up serving a pragmatic purpose that empties them of their apparent discursive purpose and fills them with rhetorical intent: an excuse not only to embrace Harry by gaining his sympathy but to embark on a lengthy honeymoon-like trip, just the two of them. Harry’s deeply sympathetic reaction is to agree to the trip, extend his arms to Lloyd, and then engage in a lengthy mutual hug as Lloyd loudly wails into Harry’s bosom. Patting, squeezing, and caressing, Harry says, “Just let it out, have a good cry,” then after another moment, “Okay, that’s enough,” and pushes Lloyd away.

Hold me.

So often in this sort of film, every moment of male-on-male intimacy is abruptly cut short by one or both of the characters realizing the homoerotic (or as they would probably simply put it, “gay”) appearance of their words and/or actions. This insecurity highlights something, but it’s not necessarily clear as to what. It could be argued to be a “return of the repressed,” a homosexual desire that was supposed to be stifled early on in the child-rearing process that comes out every so often. Or, in a simpler, less Freudian way, it could simply be explained as a couple lonely guys who can’t get girls who commiserate together and end up getting a little cozier than the “typical” homophobic (literally) guy. As another option, maybe the comedic nature of the buddy/road-trip movie is directly related to these apparently homoerotic plot elements. Maybe it’s just a twist on a rom-com cliché, applying to two men what audiences are accustomed to expecting from a man and a woman. By replacing the woman with a man, comedy ensues (when viewed by a “typical,” “homophobic” audience). The possibility must also be admitted that these kinds of hermeneutical readings could simply be reading into textual elements and applying unfair interpretations.

"Some little filly break your heart?" "No, it was a girl."

These paragraphs would be incomplete if they didn’t point out the hot tub scene in the hotel room. It’s in this scene that Harry and Lloyd discuss “Freda Felcher,” a female acquaintance of theirs in high school who was the object of their mutual desire. This is the first of two times when the guys end up in love with the same woman. Why the same woman? Why not different women? Is it simply that only one woman crosses their path (note the singular) at a time, giving them each only one option from which to choose? Or is the film playing with the underlying notion that Harry and Lloyd are actually kind of in love with each other? By allowing only one interest at a time for the men to share, the men are always in the simple position of having to choose between their friendship or the woman they desire; they’re never able to have both (unless we introduce the taboo element that the characters themselves want to avoid – here, see Y Tú Mamá Tambien, where a very similar story takes place, a three-way ensues, and – fittingly – the film is a non-comedy).

No quarters necessary

Interestingly, in the “unrated” cut of Dumb and Dumber, Lloyd says to Harry in the tub, “Only one thing could make this moment better…if you had a nice set of knockers.” Harry replies, “That’s two things, Lloyd.” Lloyd goes on to say, “I’d show you what a real man could do…and you’d probably like it, you big homo.” Harry replies with, “Shutup, Lloyd,” and an uncomfortable look as Lloyd crosses the line that even their idiocy generally knows shouldn’t be crossed, uttering the previously unspoken reality of their relationship, or at least what it looks like.

"Farver beans and a nice bottle of chianti"

The name of the woman they are both pursuing (theoretically, at least) – “Mary” – is the proverbial woman’s name that can hardly connote the idea of “woman” any stronger. It seems probable that she is a stand-in for the broader notion of “woman.” Do Harry and Lloyd desire “woman” or each other?, is the bigger question. That Mary, it turns out, is already married, is not only the simplest way to make sure that Lloyd and Harry can’t have her and must stick to each other, but also the most cliché. It’s perhaps just as cliché to point out how it’s cliché, but here we are, anyway: the commodification of the woman forces her into the role as to-be-desired, a role from which she cannot escape. The only way she can escape the desire(s) of Lloyd and Harry is by being desired by another, stronger man. Harry’s brief fantasy of shooting Mary’s husband multiple times shows that his “fantasy” is, truly, not homoerotic but heteroerotic. It’s in his fantasy life where he defeats the other male figure and gets his girl. In real life, he remains in a stable relationship with another man where he can only fantasize (along with his other man) about the distant and impossible idea of connection with a woman.

Pink and blue

When Harry tricks Lloyd and is able to spend a day with Mary on the slopes, Harry ends up treating Mary like he treats Lloyd. Not only does Harry add the male organ to the snowman they built, committing a faux pas that Mary has to correct, using the carrot and stones to make eyes and a nose, but while playing in the snow Harry roughs up Mary like two guys affectionately beating on each other. Once Lloyd tricks Harry in return (turbo lax) and gets Mary back to the hotel to make his confession to her, what comes out of his mouth instead of his practiced soliloquy proclaiming his undying love for Mary? “I desperately want to make love to a schoolboy.” While trying to correct himself, he lets loose another slip: “I want you to tell me the chances of a guy like you and a girl like me…ending up together” Lloyd’s perpetual inability to identify himself and his own sexual preference with any kind of conventional accuracy drives home his frustrated/confused/repressed/anxious state of mind. Once Harry arrives at the hotel room, the threesome is handcuffed to the bed (with Mary in between, of course) by the bad guy. Interestingly, Harry and Lloyd make very little acknowledgment of Mary’s presence, though they are finally situated – the three of them – in bed together. Rather, the two men bicker like an old married couple, even with the obligatory sexual innuendo, each one demanding that the other kiss his ass (“Both cheeks! Both lips!…”)

Who doesn't belong?

The comical end scene, with Lloyd and Harry being offered to tour with the bikini girls on the “National Bikini Tour,” could not possibly cement all of these ideas any more. Both men are utterly oblivious to the ramifications of the offer presented to them. Finally, a free handout is before them embodying the ultimate heterosexual male fantasy: without having to do any of the hard work – in which they have so obviously failed in the preceding narrative – they can have exactly what they claimed to have wanted: women. Their refusal may indicate less an “oblivious” attitude than an apathetic one. Was it all for Mary that they went to Aspen, left everything they had, and endured all kinds of misery? Or was it “for love of the game,” as it were? Not for the hunted, but for the hunt itself. The same idea inheres when men go off fishing or hunting for a weekend “with the boys” and come back with no fish or game. As the aforementioned conference speaker noted, many of these “bromance” films allow a chord-cutting by the end: the two male characters are able to sever their ties to one another (to some degree) and walk away with their respective female interests. Not so in Dumb and Dumber. The overt rejection not just of cutting the chord but even of diving into their supposed non-gay fantasy implies a final acceptance of their relationship. Sure, they’re “dumb,” and therefore prone to miss the appearance of their greatest fantasies come to life. However, the film seems to encode many tropes of repressed homoeroticism under the guise of simple stupidity. Perhaps the truly ignorant thing would be to read all of this as just a couple morons trying to find a girl.

Fantasy or intrusion?

Touchy-feely

Shout out to…

Bone City – we had a good year. We beat an undefeated team in the semifinal on thursday 16-4 or something, but then fell in the championship by 2. We had 5 starters out on the last night and felt there were some “questionable” calls in the last game. Don’t worry though because the ref was partying it up pretty hard with her friends on the winning team after the game…. Everyone played great on Thursday though and it was a good/fun year and these are the kinds of things that motivate you to be better the next year. sports. kickball.

Lately I’m thinking…

I think I could catch a squirrel if I wanted to. There are a lot in our neighborhood and they don’t seem overly fast or smart to me. I’m scared they would bite me though and give me squirrel rabies or something (squabies). So i’ve been thinking about wearing a pair of heavy duty gloves around so if the opportunity presents itself I can go for it

This is really interesting…

Annie and Casey got married this weekend and had an open bar! Oh man, i seriously couldn’t contain my excitement, and the food was delicious too. Still, somehow I found myself at the bar next door at about 12:30 AM buying tequilla shots. Then someone casually said “okay now let’s go back to the place that has free liquor”. Doh! On a side note, if Annie still reads this thing – Congrats!

Currently watching…

Wild Pacific. It’s basically a planet earth show about the pacific ocean and it’s islands. fun fact: i want to go fiji or new zealand. But a snowy bozeman will do for now – CATS!

The Soapbox:

“Yeah I called her up. She gave me a bunch of crap about me not listening to her, or something. I don’t know, I wasn’t really paying attention”