Freaking Sister!

Well.  I was waiting for the right time to make this information public.  But since my sister outed me on her blog, I felt I needed to come clean before everyone got the wrong idea.

So here goes.  I... like Hanson.  There I said it.  Not their old mmbop stuff, but since they cut their hair, went through puberty, got married and had all kinds of kids, their music is actually really really good.  You should give it a listen, its totally hip and with it.  I even went to a Hanson concert about a year ago, and I'm not ashamed to say, I had a good time.

I'm sure some people are going to tell me that it's not OK or "whatever I need to tell myself so I can sleep at night", but gnuts to them, I am in the closet no longer!

Wow, that was really freeing.  Thanks Sister.

Freaking Time!

That's right, I'm upset at time. It's kind of like money, in fact, some people would argue that it *is* money, while others would argue that it is not, but that's another topic for another day. For the purpose of this illustration, time is like money in that there is enough in the world for everyone to have what they need, yet somehow we never seem to have enough. There is always someone hoarding way more than they could possibly need or even use, causing all sorts of problems for everyone else.

Perhaps this will change if I were to one day get that time machine I keep asking Santa for, but so far he has been stingy... or I have been naughty... one of the two. So in the meantime, I will resort to complaining about it, knowing it won't make anything actually better, it will just make me feel better.

So the other day, I was thinking about how I never seem to have enough time, and I heard the Ice Cream Man drive by. This got me wondering: "What the heck does the Ice Cream Man do with his time?". Surely he is not Ice Cream Manning all day. Does he have another job, and only twilight's as an Ice Cream Man? That got me pondering other aspects of the Ice Cream Man as well. Like, how do Ice Cream Men decide jurisdictions? Is there some sort of Ice Cream Man Cartel that divides up the areas? What are the consequences for violating the family's rules? Is there an unruly gang of people walking around with hairdryers, ready to melt your stock and leave your hair with that "just woke up" look? "Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.... It's a message from don Rocky Road... don't ever go against the family. Also, you should consider an oil treatment for those split ends." Or maybe he spends his spare time worrying about the effect of the rising cost of gas on his business? Those trucks get a gallon per mile at best. Is the dream of a 50c rocket pop just another casualty of the ongoing fuel crisis? Will my daughter have to choose between chasing the Ice Cream Man down the street or going to college? Are rhetorical questions still all the rage? If Al Gore *cough*money grubbing personal agenda pusher*cough* is to be believed global warming will soon make the Ice Cream Man as much of a necessity as the doctor and cable television. Can you imagine what it will be like when it is 173 degrees outside, and the Ice Cream Man is nowhere to be found?

But who knows... this could all be a bunch of malarkey. In the end, the only thing that is mostly certain is death, which ironically, still will not stop time. Time will march on without us without a care in the world. Time does not worry about the impending global warming crisis, the failing economy, or the Ice Cream Man because because it is the root of carefree ignorance through forgetting. Always hording itself for itself, not leaving enough for the rest of us. And for that I hate it.

Freaking Technology!

So, let me start off by saying, I *love* technology. Except when I don't. This morning was one of the latter times.

This morning, I was at the bank, attempting to deposit a check. My bank has these nifty new ATM's that do not require you to use a deposit envelope covered in chicken scratch long addition which was done in the car on the way as you attempted to sort out just how much money exactly you were actually depositing. To this day I am pretty sure banks just accept whatever number you put on there knowing that eventually it will all even out. 50 cents too much today, a dollar too little tomorrow, whatever, it'll sort itself out eventually... but anyway, I digress. So these new ATM's take all that guesswork out of making bank deposits. You just stick your check in the little slot, it takes it away from you like a kung-fu student grabbing a grasshopper, and then shows you this cool scan of the check, including how much it was for.

So this check I was trying to deposit this morning was from the land of ice and snow... also known as Canada. Seems Canada feels they are too good to follow US standards for how checks are to be formatted (who do they think they are, some autonomous nation? Pfft...), and have come up with their own crazy, obviously drunk, way of doing routing and account numbers. So the ATM got quite confused. I would insert the check, and it would spit it back out. 5 times I tried! I felt like I was in 3rd grade trying to buy a Pepsi at Roller Towne. "Bvvvt.... bvvvt.... dollar comes back" ... "bvvvt... bvvvt... dollar comes back". So then you start doing that crazy "get my dollar to work in a soda machine" voodoo. You take it, flatten it as much as you can using the corner of the machine. "Bvvt... bvvvt... dollar comes back". Then you spend like 5 minutes examining the picture showing the orientation the bill must be in order for the machine to read it. "Bvvvt... bvvvttt... dollar comes back". Then you check to see if any of the corners are maybe bent down. Finally you do some crazy raindance and pray to the diety of your choice in hopes of making it work. "Bvvvt...." "Sweet I think it worke... "Bvvvt... dollar comes back". "Blast!". That is basically what happened to me this morning. It's like, come on, I am trying to give you money!

It reminds me of the olde tyme days of yore when I was trying to get my oldsk00l NES to see that I really did have a game inserted. Everyone had their own special "technique" for getting it to work. Blow on the cartridge, blow in the console, etc. I knew one kid who swore that tapping it on the upper right side of his head 3 times was the key to making it work. Superstition to say the least, but hey, whatever it takes to get your Pepsi/Nintendo/ATM fix right?

So the point of all this nostalgia is pretty simple: For all the things technology brings us, it sure does cost a lot... and not just monetarily. I'm thinking about our other valuables that can't have a pricetag attached to them, such as time, frustration, and sugary drinks, just to name just a few.

In the end, I'm back where we were 30 years ago. I have to make it to the bank during the business hours, which is like between 11:00 and 11:07 am every other Thursday (whoever coined the term "bankers hours" was a wise wise person), so that a teller can examine my currency manually to ensure that I am not a Canadian terrorist. Maybe one day I won't have to work in another country to maximize the value of my dollar, but that day is not today. And so I am stuck fighting with technology just to get my Pepsi.

Freaking Customers!

Today we're going to delve into what is possibly the worst type of person in the world. That's right, customers. It does not really seem to matter what industry you work in, customers are just a general all around pain in the bum. They're always wanting stuff, and just because I work here are expecting me to do it for them. When I say wanting stuff, I don't mean like "Hey, can you do this thing that completely relates to your job and your company's industry so it makes perfect sense for me to ask you to do this, for me", I mean stuff like, "Hey, I realize that this is not remotely related to what you know or do, but I and everyone I know apparently have the problem solving skills equal to that of an untrained table, so can you help me with this?" It's maddening!

Then, to make matters worse, when you solve their problem and they don't like the answer, they come back expecting you to somehow change the results. What's that about insanity, repetitive actions, and different outcomes? They seem to think that because I was kind enough to solve their problem to begin with, surely I must be some sort of demigod who can manipulate time, space, and all creation with just the power of my will... that somehow I can change the laws of physics that govern our entire universe because they're the customer and they told me to. Then, when I try to explain the impossibility of their request, they demand that I resolve it. As if I have not already gone out of my way enough already! Do you think I am lying to you? Do you think this is just a big joke I am playing on you because I enjoy it? Do you honestly think I want to deal with you one Planck longer than I have to? Why on earth would I not give you the answer that will make you leave me alone?!

Now, as a side note, let me say this right now. I am an extremely helpful person. Some have even called me too helpful. Sometimes I try to help so much that it actually becomes un-helpful. That's just who I am... it's how I roll. So it's not that I don't really really want to help people, it's just that I am only one person, and some things are just not possible.

For quick reference I have included a short, and by no means conclusive, list of the things that I cannot do for you:

1. Vulcanize your tires while you wait. Despite my striking resemblance to Vulcan, this is not something I can help you with. I am sorry.
   
2. Undo a mistake you made in the past. Contrary to what I can only assume is a rumor everyone but me is in on, I do not now, nor have I ever had, a time machine. Maybe I will in the future, which I guess would mean I could have one now and in the past, but as of this writing I do not, so stop asking.
   
3. Fix your problem in less time than it takes to fix it. See #2 above if you don't understand why.
4. Read your mind. I don't care what you expect, if you don't tell me I have no idea what you need. This also goes for crucial bits to solving the problem. Giving me all the information is the best way to help with #3.
   
5. Recite every digit of Pi, from memory or otherwise. If you don't know why I can't do this, you have no business asking me to do it. It pretty much answers itself.
6. Count to infinity. See #5 above.
7. Drink one gallon of milk in an hour without vomiting. Maybe other people can, I'm not going to debate you on that, all I know is, I cannot.
8. Make a working two-seater ultralight plane out of makeshift materials. I probably can't even make a working two-seater ultralight with proper materials.
   
9. Build a Jet pack from plans purchased off the internet and limited funds. Maybe with plans purchased from the Internet *or* limited funds, but not both.
   
10. Build a perpetual motion machine. In my house we obey the laws of thermodynamics.
    
11. All the stuff that Chuck Norris can do. Come to think of it, why don't you call Chuck Norris to solve your problems?
    

Perhaps it's proper irony that we're all customers of something at some point, and yet all customers manage to give me the rage. Does that mean I give myself the rage? Probably, but that's another topic for a completely different website. So if the irony of self loathing isn't today's lesson, what is? All customers are idiots. There are just varying degrees of idiot. You alone have the power to decide what degree of idiot customer you are going to be. Use it wisely.

Brian Ching *did* score goals

So, for people not in the "know", today's headline is a reference to one of the greatest stories I have from our trip to the World Cup in 2006 in Germany. It goes like this:

We had just walked out of the disappointing US loss to the Czech Republic in Gelsenkirchen. To be fair, they were ranked #2 in the world at the time, but that's no excuse, we played like crap... but I digress. My good friend Andrew was wearing his San Jose Earthquakes Brian Ching jersey, and this large, drunk, Czech man comes up to him, puts his arm around him, and just says "Brian Ching will score goals.", then walks away. It was awesome. To this day, every time I see Ching play, I can't help but think of that day.

Which brings us to yesterday (June 15th, 2008). Brian Ching did in fact score goals. And wow. Just. Wow. It was a massacre. As we were walking from the parking lot to the Home Depot center (or the HDC as it's sometimes called), I jokingly said "So, we're going to win 8-zip right?". Little did I know, that apparently I'm clairvoyant.

I won't bore you with the details of who scored when, but at the end of the game 5 US players were on the scoresheet with a total of 8 goals. We outshot them 22 to 2, with 14 of our shots being on goal to their zero. US records were set for the fastest goal ever scored (53 seconds into the game), the largest margin of victory (8 goals), and tied for the highest score ever put up by the US national team. All in all, a great way to start our 2010 World Cup campaign.

By the end, I actually felt kind of bad for the Babados players. This is only the first leg in a 2 game series, where goals will be aggregated to determine the final score. As you can see from the picture below, we were right by their bench, close enough to see the looks of despair on their faces as the US scored goal after goal after goal.



In the end, I think Clint Dempsey said it best: "We're not going to say we're going to go out and win the World Cup after playing Barbados," Dempsey said. "Nothing against them. They came out and tried hard, but we're supposed to win these types of games decisively."

And win decisively we did.

Close Encounters of the Indiana Jones Kind

Ok, so i should start by saying spoiler alert. Usually I wait until after I ruin it for everyone to declare spoilers err... behind... because well, that's way funnier than warning people ahead of time.  But this time I genuinely don't want to ruin it. So, if you've not seen the new Indiana Jones movie yet, and you'll be sad if you hear how it ends, I suggest going elsewhere.

So, with that said, lets get cookin'. Before I tear into it, I should mention, I really did mostly like the new Indy movie. It was fun, Harrison Ford was out of his Random Hearts, Devil's Own, Six Days Seven Nights funk and back to Han Solo form. The chase scenes were fun and full of Spielberg goodness. The scene with the ants had me crawling in my seat, lifting my feet off the ground, you know, just in case. There were a few pointless bits, like the gophers and the tarzan vines, but they were mostly forgivable. Then, came the last act in the movie.

Now, anyone paying attention probably saw the whole alien thing coming, and truth be told, the aliens themselves aren't even what bothered me. Its what they did, namely come back to life, and fly away... or something. I have no problem with the skull being an alien skull, I don't even have a problem with needing to return it to some ancient burial ground, temple, ruin, or whatever. But the aliens coming back to life and flying away? That's the ending you're going with? I think I've seen this before somewhere else. It makes me want to swear. Like, I cannot even put together a coherent sentence to describe it. The way this movie ended is so stupid, I think I had a stroke. What's on slate for Indy 5? Indy returns a dinosaur bone to a remote island and all the dinosaurs come back to life, then for no reason, except that the movie has to end, somehow go extinct again? I'm reminded of the end of Hudson Hawk. It goes something like this:

Hudson Hawk: You're supposed to be all crashed up at the bottom of the hill!
Tommy Five-Tone: Air bags, can you believe it?!
Anna Baragli: You're supposed to be blown up into fiery chunks of flesh!
Tommy Five-Tone: Sprinkler systems can you believe it?!
Hudson Hawk: Yeah, that's probably what happened!

Or, as it more appropriately applies to this movie:

Movie test subject #1: Wait, that doesn't make sense, why are there CG gophers?
Lucas: Special effects and gophers are awesome, can you believe it?!
Movie test subject #2: Ok, why is he swinging through the trees like tarzan... and now the moneys are his friends?
Lucas: Special effects and Tarzan and monkeys are awesome, can you believe it?!
Movie test subject #3: Ok, aliens come to life and fly away and now its over, dude, what the heck?
Spielberg: Yeah, thats probably what happened!

Come on Lucas, you already owe me 27.50$ for the Star Wars prequils (10 bucks each for episodes 1 and 2, and 7.50 for episode 3... it was only three quarters crap), do you really want to add another 12 (stupid inflation) to your tab for this? You were so close! All you had to do was just about anything except what you did. In fact, Lucas, if you're reading this, write this down: "Next time I have an idea for something to make my movie better, I will do the opposite". Tape it to your bathroom mirror and ponder on it as you brush your teeth with your gold plated, light saber molded, toothbrush. It will make your movies a whole lot better, which will ultimately make you and your adoring fans much, much happier.

My little girl was dancing!

I'm starting to realize, that while ranting about stuff that sucks is therapeutic, it's difficult to do all the time. Sometimes there are things that are just too good not to share, despite them not being "what the heck?!" moments. This is one of those things. Warning: Proud daddy gushing ahead.

Most (read: everyone except those 2 people who were googling for Landon Donovan, and accidentally ended up here) of you know that my beautiful wife is pregnant with our first child: our daughter named Claire. I am so super excited about my little girl, that even if I dedicated an entire post to her... even if I could somehow embed emotions and feelings into a website (<EMBED type="awesome" emotions="happy">... dang, didn't work)... there are no words in any language spoken anywhere I've ever heard of that could describe how I feel about her. She's pretty much tied for (and directly related to) the greatest thing ever to happen to me.

So, now that I've successfully gushed like a reverse emo kid on uppers, we get to the original reason for the post. I like to play music. The other day, I was sitting in my living room, playing my guitar, and Claire (who was presumably asleep previously) woke up and started, what we can only describe as, dancing. Everytime I'd stop playing, she'd calm down, and stop moving, then I'd start playing again, and she'd start bouncing around again. It was amazing.

Now, it should be noted, that I'm not one of those crazy people who think that there was some kind of actual communication there, or know for sure that it was anything other than a fortunate coincidence. I understand that physiologically, while she can hear whats going on, to her brain, these signals her cochlea are passing to her scala vestibuli and on through the rest of her auditory system are just random neurons firing, and they have no real meaning. But even the coincidence was still wizard enough to warrant telling everyone about it.

So here's to you, my little dancing miracle. I can't wait to meet you.