Talking to empty rooms

Courtesy of XKCD.

Apparently I'm not all that helpful

I received the following email from a friend last week, which I publish here in abbreviated form and without her permission:

Dear Dave,

My family is going to do a family talent show on Christmas and we have to come up with something to do. Can you guys help us out...? Last time we took traditional Christmas songs and rapped them. It was a hit and we've been asked to try to do it again... PLEASE HELP!!!

Stacie

I replied:

Dear Stacie

I think maybe you should maybe do a dramatic recreation of a scene from Schindler's List. Or maybe a live demonstration about how to pluck a chicken.

Just some thoughts.

Warmest wishes,

David

Stacie replied:

I'm going to email your wife for help now.

Hot girls rule the world

 "I realize you may have had some concerns before as to whether I should be given my way, but please, let me set your mind at ease about all that: I'm attractive. Matter resolved."- The Onion Editorial Page

In the ridiculously overplayed song, Are You Gonna Be My Girl, Jet states the immortal words, "You don't need money when you look like that, do you honey?"

Hot girls rule the world.

Years ago Rob, Ryan and I declared this to be true, and it still is today. Hot girls get whatever they want. Think about it. How many hot girls do you know who don't get whatever they want? Exactly.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have a diaper to change and dishes to do.

Where IS Carmen Sandiego?

Did anyone ever find out?

 Image courtesy of here.

The Official Rules of Wallball

In case you were wondering, here are the official rules of Wallball, courtesy of FOUND Magazine.

Reading this lead to a lenghty discussion between my wife and I about the very nature of Wallball because we had very different definitions.

I grew up with Wallball being a game played with a rubber ball, similar to those used in playground games like Four Square. Two people played at a time and tried to get the other person "out" by either performing a shot werf's opponent couldn't return, or causing werf's opponent to make a mistake.

Mistakes included Pockets (ball hit exactly where the wall and the sidewalk meet), Rainbows (ball didn't bounce between when it was hit and when it reaches the wall), and Carries (similar to volleyball: you can't carry the ball, it has to be a solid hit).

My wife's version involved a tennis ball and a large group of people playing simultaneously. I don't remember the rest of what she said because 1. it's hard to describe some games if you aren't watching someone play them and 2. the details are always a bit foggy 20 years later.

At this point I must boast a bit and let you all know that in second grade I went through the entire line of kids waiting before I got out. That was probably the greatest day of my life.

A space just for you

I could probably spend an entire day looking through people's pictures on Flickr. Not the snapshot, "it was the greatest party in the world" pictures, but those of people who actually know what they're doing with the camera. (If you're interested in becoming addicted yourself, check out Flickr's Explore page and just keep hitting "reload".)

When I see a picture I like I'll usually click over to see other pictures from the same photographer. That's how I found the above shot. From a technical aspect, I'm guessing it's not the greatest photograph in the world. However, as soon as I saw it I thought, "What would I do with this space?

A loft in the city that's all your own - you don't have to share with anyone. It's your personal retreat. What would you put in there? It's a blank canvas and you can make it become anything you want. What would it be?

For example, maybe you love cooking so you would put a nice kitchen with great appliances and lots of counter space. Maybe you have a passion for dancing so you'd install a nice sound system and use the space as a dancefloor. Maybe you're an artist and it would become your studio. Leave word in the comments.

A dream come true

Well, kind of a dream come true. I was hoping they were doing hand-scooped ice cream on top of donut. Doesn't a scoop of really good strawberry ice cream on top of a warm, glazed Krispy Kreme donut sound good? Or am I just weird like that? Instead, they're adding soft-serve and a topping bar. Hmmm... not convinced that's going to do the trick, but heres hopin'.

See the story here.

UPDATED: In case you were wondering, I could survive 1 min 19 seconds

I could survive for 1 minute, 19 seconds chained to a bunk bed with a velociraptor

I dunno. I'm curious as to their methodology - I think I could last longer.

Jump over, take the test, and come back and leave word in the comments about how long you'd last.

UPDATE: I showed this to some friends at work and we had quite the in-depth discussion about the finer points of being chained to the bed with a velociraptor. Seriously, the discussion lasted about 15 minutes and covered important topics such as:

• Who can't jump more than a foot? (Complete with a demonstration by Gary)
• A better use of the severed arm would be to use it as bait, or to distract it from eating the parts of you that are still attached.
• The idea of getting the raptor to chase you around the bed until it was wound up so tight it couldn't attack you anymore was brought up, but quickly dismissed because then you'd be wrapped up around the bed too.
• Who could get a raptor chained to a bed in the first place?
• Punching a raptor in the mouth is a dumb idea.
• Which location on/around the bed is most advantageous?
• Why would you allow yourself to be chained to a bed with a velociraptor in the first place?
• Running away from dangerous animals is not the same thing as fighting them.
  

Totally worth it

Courtesy of here.

I hate this thing

 

I know I'm probably going to offend some people when I say this, so I half-heartedly apologize in advance.

I think this widget could be about the tackiest thing I've ever seen.

Honestly, what makes you think anyone wants to see a baby floating around in your virtual uterus, squiggly umbilical cord and all? I'm happy that you're having a kid. Really. Congratulations. That's wonderful news. I don't want a sneak peek. Thanks though.

So I decided to prove the ridiculousness of the widget by cramming 10 little fetuses in my virtual uterus (I never thought I would write those words) and watching them grow. Like sea monkeys. In a few months we'll see how my digital offspring fare in their crammed space.

Also, I hate blogs that play music automatically when the page loads.

Man babies

It's disturbing, yet I can't look away.

See more here.

Hmmm... I think I want to get a degree

I found this beaut' on KSL's homepage. If I understand correctly, it reads:

"Education! What separates us from a dead fly."

Now, I generally eschew taking advertising too literally but I'm not sure how else to interpret this one. And why is the fly hovering? Thoughts?

George Lucas screws up yet another franchise [SPOILERS]

Originally, George Lucas wanted to call the movie Indiana Jones and the Saucer Men From Mars. That alone should give you a feeling for the quality of this movie's screenplay. Still skeptical? Here are some of the more memorable scenes from the film:

• Shia Labeouf swinging through the jungle with a legion of monkeys
• Everyone surviving a trip over three consecutive, 100+ foot Amazonian waterfalls
• Aliens from another dimension
• A nuclear explosion

Even with the expectation that since this was Indiana Jones that things were going to be above and beyond (how many times can a 60 year-old guy get punched in the face?), the movie was gag-inducing at parts. Too many parts. Sure, there were some good scenes (granted, I can't think of any of them at the moment) and Harrison Ford does a pretty good job, but overall the movie didn't bring anything new to the table and was over-the-top hokey.

If you're an Indy fan, you'll probably see the movie anyway. If you're hesitant and don't care about seeing it on the big screen, wait for it to come to DVD.

Image courtesy of here.

I saw the new Indiana Jones movie

The Powers That Be at work were kind enough to take everyone to go see it today. I'll hold off publishing my full review until tomorrow when my wife and in-laws see it. But in the meantime, I'll just mention that I give it 2.5 stars out of 4, and the half a star extra is only because it's an Indiana Jones movie.

"But the ads made it look so cool!"

I'm doing a little research for a commercial we're shooting on Thursday that involves a bunch of sci-fi nerds standing in a line waiting for the premier of their new movie. (Although the commercial has nothing to do with sci-fi nor movies.)

As I tweaked the script, I remembered the red guards from the original Star Wars Trilogy (I think they were first seen in Empire Strikes Back). Wanting to learn a little more about them, I jumped on Wikipedia. From the 'pedia:

[Imperial Royal Guardsman] are the best and most loyal of the Imperial stormtroopers, solely responsible to Palpatine.... A mere 4% of all trainees would survive the rigors that awaited them to become Royal Guards; during a year-long training program, recruits sparred against each other continuously perfecting their combat skills. ...In their final test, each fought his training partner to the death...

Seriously impressive, right? And then there's this guy who's in charge of guarding the Palpatine's 10-speed:

The Emporer can be such a jerk sometimes.

Image courtesy of here.

My new nickname

I home teach a family, the Whites. They're nice people and my wife and I have become pretty good friends with them. How good of friends are we? Good enough friends that we feel comfortable farting in front of each other without feeling the need to blame it on our kids. Enough said.

A while back, their son Cole (pictured here in all his majesty) decided that I was the home teacher with the teeth. This is an odd distinction to make since my home teaching companion isn't missing any teeth of which I'm aware. I was fine with the name because I'd rather be known as the home teacher with teeth than the home teacher without teeth.

But "home teacher with teeth" isn't my new nickname.

This past Sunday while I was over I asked Cole what my name was. I expected one of two answers: something about teeth, or Jake's dad. (For whatever reason he has no problem remembering my son's name.) What came out of his mouth shocked us all:

"Groin."

Huh?

"Groin."

Pardon?

"Groin."

Come again?

"Groin."

There was no mistaking it. The kid was calling me Groin.

So the whole thing was a bit odd. But what has me more worried is that the name may have stuck. My wife answered the phone, "Yes, Groin?" when I called her a few days ago, and Cole called me Groin again tonight.

Despite its anatomical references, I'm sure "Groin" isn't the worst nickname ever. So I think I'm going to have a little contest: leave word in the comments about the worst nickname you've ever heard (you must have known the person who had it). I'll pick the top three or so for everyone to vote on. The person who submitted the worst nickname gets a prize. Seriously. I'm going to mail something to the winner. I'm not sure what it is yet, but I don't think it will be offensive.

Keep your socks fresh

No, your eyes doth not deceive you. My Fruit of the Loom® socks not only stay black, and are the ultimate for fit and comfort (debatable), but the folks at The Loom have taken sock packaging to an entirely new level by providing a resealable bag. Yes, resealable. Like something your salad would come in. But without the croutons and dressing.

I'm not sure why I'd need to reseal my socks in their original packaging. To my knowledge they don't have a shelf life and don't need to remain fresh. In fact, we'd like the socks to be a little less fresh as, frankly, they reeked. Horribly. Like something that I can't name because I'm not sure what it is. All I know is that it smells bad and is probably ugly. Like this guy. Imagine the scent this little guy would put out when in heat. That's what my socks smelled like. But worse.

Anyhoo, the socks are OK. We've washed them a couple of times now and only a little stench remains. Unfortunately, it was enough for one of these little critters to find me and start trying to make more little critters with my foot. It was awkward. I'm looking forward to summer when I can stop wearing the romantic socks and sart wearing flip-flops.

Smelly animal pic from here.

Top five reasons February doesn't suck

This brilliant list was pulled from the ShoeboxBlog (you know, Shoebox, that tiny little division of Hallmark).

The Top Five Reasons February Doesn't Suck:

1. The weather. No, that’s wrong.
2. Summer vacation is just around…no it’s not.
3. You can start wearing…wait. No you can’t.
4. Valentine’s Day was happy. If you were already happy.
5. It’s two days shorter than the other months. But not this year.

*sigh* At least in March Daylight Saving Time begins and we can start enjoying longer days.

The Pillowig - the perfect Valentine's gift for narcoleptics everywhere

Ah, The Other Drummer, you schizophrenic site you! One day it's a post about a hard-hitting, controversial headline on CNN regarding race, gender and the presidential race and the next it's...this.

Joo Youn Paek is currently enrolled in NYU's Interactive Telecommunications Program and came up with this beaut' as part of a guerrilla art project.

Interactive? Telecommunications? Art? Sure thing Joo!

From her site: [The] hand-made wearable pillow that comforts people during the tired moments in daily life.

Yeah. Or you could go to bed earlier. And what about people who sleep on their stomachs?

Crap. I look like a Wiggle.

What the heck? Fine. Are you serious?? Whatever. OK. So I look like the Yellow Wiggle. It's cool, it's cool. I just thought I would let everyone know that a very cutting-edge computer did a highly scientific analysis of my physical features and conclusively determined that you're ALL WRONG. That's right. According to said computer, I look more like Carson Daily, James Van Der Beek, Hugh Jackman, Marvin Gaye (who is black, mind you) AND Tom Cruise than the Yellow Wiggle. See here.

So there.