Nerds!!

I want Rock Band.

I have a Wii.

I have been told it's tons better on the XBox360.

I need advice!

In all seriousness, I am concerned. I don't want to shell out for a 360 just for one game, but I don't want a miserable Rock Band experience. A friend and 360 enthusiast claimed that the download capabilities of the Wii were not good enough for RB, but was too busy playing RB to elaborate.

My kids often play MarioKart on the Wii using the worldplay feature, and can play for hours without getting booted off the wi-fi. Does this mean that our download experience won't suck as much as others, or simply that we can play MarioKart for hours?

I have the right television for it, along with the wireless internet connection.

Should I just shell out for the 360? And before you ask, the answer is no, I will not be buying other games to play on the 360. I really enjoy the Wii, and I play my gory shoot-em-ups online anyway.

Feel free to enhance my knowledge and/or sway my decision in the comments section.

Break Stuff

Today is just one of those days. Crabby, unhappy, and generally unrepentant.

I am not feeling like pleasing anyone today, and I really don't care if that hurts anyone's feelings. It's really too bad, because the sun is shining, and the temperature is trying to warm a little. But no, I'm cranky.

Feel free to vent in the comments.

May The Farce Be With You..... Always!

This morning while driving to The Girl and The Boy to school, we were chit-chatting. The Boy wasn't really paying attention, only butting in every few sentences or so. And then we saw him at the midway crossing: Mace Windu.

Mace Windu works at The Girl's high school. Tall, dark, shiny dome, and forever pointing a finger, he's in charge of discipline, and the kids say he's mean. The Girl supposed he was even in the military.

"In the military"? What does that mean, I ask. She explains that military people are, you know, like that. Like what, I inquire. The Girl says that military people, you know, are just mean.

I reminded her that her dad has 18 years on active duty, and he's not "like that."

The Boy perked up and asked, "What, bald?"

Mace Windu vs Mister, or
Like that vs. not quite like that!

1984?

Allegedly, there is a war going on somewhere, one in which the United States is heavily engaged. You wouldn't know that, if you had watched Fox News for the first time ever yesterday morning.

Over the weekend, a soldier murdered several fellow soldiers in theater. Also, the rates of drug use and misuse among soldiers is increasing. More jobs and homes are being lost every day. Governmental spending at every level across America is grossly bloated and unsupportable. One might hold up California on the brink of bankruptcy as an example, but because this happens on a regular cycle, we'll skip that and move on to other things, like the college professor who murdered his wife and several others, and then committed suicide. Or the rampant use of performance-enhancer drugs in professional sports.

And this is just the stuff going on with the USA. We don't have time to carry on with the rest of the planet.

On the whole, things are not lovely. Really and truly, the only silver lining is that our reservoir is now at full pool, and the weather is still cool enough to keep the windows open to catch the breeze. The rest is crap.

However, what qualifies as a news alert for Fox News is none of this. No, the channel has decided that a beauty-pageant contestant and her under-age nudie photos qualifies as an "Alert!" with the same level of saturation one might expect if a plane full of Congressmen crashed in a ball of fire into an orphanage hosting a dog show.

So a pageant contestant gets to keep her crown because nude and semi-nude photos she had taken back when she was 17 were not meant to be published but were instead for a modeling portfolio. Big whupdee doodles.

Come on, Fox. The USA may often appear to be full of proles, but it's not, unless you help make it so. Raise the bar, freaks. Raise the bar.

Swamp Thing

Over the last year or two, I stood back in horror as I watched my mortgage company get rightfully pilloried for being at the front of the national (and then worldwide) housing crisis. Being the #1 issuer of questionable mortgages, Countrywide became even more infamous thanks to a series of television ads that told clients they could "get help" through them, but then denied nearly every applicant.

Unfortunately, sensible people like me were the real victims. I bought only what I could afford on one paycheck even though I was urged by one real estate agent to buy twice that ("You're military--you'll get the credit easy!"). I have made every payment on time. I paid extra into the escrow when I knew the my property taxes were going up. I haven't taken out a home equity loan against my house.

How does that make me a victim? I don't get a share in the "bailout," but I can certainly fund it.

Home buyers are as much to blame for this mess as mortgage lenders. People know when their credit is questionable, or even downright bad. Add the temptation of loose mortgage regulations and we have bailout soup. Irresponsible lenders and irresponsible borrowers are getting a helping hand at my expense, and I'm supposed to be okay about this.

And then, adding rock salt to this festering wound, I log in this week to pay my mortgage only to discover that one bad apple has been changed for another: Bank of America bought out Countrywide's mortgages.

My first thought was, "How could I possibly make it any worse for myself?! Jehovah! Jehovah!"

My second thought was, "Super. F'n super."

It takes a real man to wear tights!

Please, someone explain to me why I belly-laughed until it hurt over this:





Thanks, XKCD, for another great day!

Happy Star Wars Day!

Yes, I know what you're thinking. But just because I think badly of George Lucas it does not mean that I have turned away from the entire franchise. I just said he's not getting any more of my money.

And so, without further ado, May The 4th Be With You, Always.

It's our boy with no pants!

I live in a quiet residential area that is, but isn't, a subdivision. One main drag that winds its way between two connectors, there are no signs indicating you are in [name redacted] subdivision. We're just a cluster of similar brick ranch dwellings, all but one without a garage, and popular with teenagers because it's fun to race through here, apparently.

This morning I was off to the hardware store to buy a machete. As I was weaving my way through the maze of cars no one likes to park in their private driveways (?!), I noticed two adults and some kids crowded around the back of a minivan. I slowed down even more for safety--one never knows when those little kids will decide it's a good time to dart into the street--when I noticed that the man was wearing some seriously tight shorts.

voice in my head: "Dude's way too tubby to be wearing bike shorts. Spandex at your size.... OMG those are underpants!!"

Yes, my neighbor was wearing a pair of tight-fitting boxer-briefs out in the sunny public on a lovely Sunday at noon. But wait! There's more! His waistband was rolled down and his butt crack was peeking out.

What has been seen, can never be unseen. I may never sleep peacefully again.

1D10T

Just this morning, I have read two separate cases of people buying sealed electronics only to get robbed. How did this happen? At some point between initial construction and the sale, the electronic item was replaced with rocks or a brick and then the package was sealed or resealed.

1. Anyone who thinks a seal cannot be removed and then replaced without anyone noticing is grossly naive and/or has never hired a professional mover.

2. Are people really that optimistic these days, or have I been a pessimist all these years and just not been aware of the fact?

Open your electronic items before leaving the store, people! Even if it is a gift, at least you will spare some poor kid the pain of discovering that the DS he thought he was receiving was in fact a pile of rocks. By opening your 'sealed' electronics in the store, even at walmart, you will get instant satisfaction rather than have to go round in circles between seller and manufacturer, because each will do whatever they can to avoid issuing a refund. It is probably easier to return an automobile than it is to return electronics. (I've never returned a car, so I'm just guessing here.)

Honestly, I wish they'd just set up a table right at the door for just this purpose, especially the electronics retailers.

It's just like those bloody peasants

I attended the funeral of my beloved step-grandfather, the only "grandfather" in my life who acted the part. Both my "real" grandfathers had died long before I was born, and both my grandmothers had remarried. My father's mother married a bitter man whose soul was completely cheerless. My mother's mother had married again twice, first to a friend of her first husband who was a greedy, thieving bastard, and then to Earl, who was The Last Real Gentleman.

Everyone loved Earl. The whole community, most of whom are related to me, embraced him, an outsider, as one of their own, adopting him as their own grandfather, uncle, or brother. I have had occasion to wonder if this did not perhaps perturb my grandmother a bit, a woman who was not well-liked even by her own children.

It was a lovely service. The rain stopped just enough for us to return him to the earth. The sun had even blessed us a bit, encouraging us to smile through our loss. I felt reassured.

And then, I became a tourist back in my home county of Guernsey. I snapped pictures of our local library, a gift from Andrew Carnegie. I also took pictures of our courthouse, a triumph of architecture back in the late 1880s, placed not in the county seat but in the biggest town in the county. (The seat was moved to accommodate the courthouse location later, and the original seat dwindled away to just a village.)

Tucked into a parking lot, I found this sign, and thought you all will laugh as mightily as I did:



I hope this post finds you well and in good spirits. For those who embrace the possibility, there is a most excellent man watching over you, purest of heart and soul. Do much to deserve the honor. For me, it is enough to know that in life, my grandfather was well-respected and loved not because he demanded it but because he earned it.

a bleak and rimey day

In November of 2007, my mother's mother passed. I hardly noticed. I no longer cared for the woman. She was greedy and cruel to us, her grandchildren, when she should have been kind, at a time in her life when she did not need the money she took from us but we were hungry and with holes in our shoes.

Today, her 3rd husband and the only "grandfather" I ever knew, passed. The news was such a great shock to me; I've never--never--felt such a pain. It gripped my heart and my guts, my mind went completely blank, and I had no words, not even to comfort my mother who had loved him as much as she had loved her own departed father.

I will be taking about 11 days off from writing to you, my dear readers. I need time to myself; I just can't bring myself to share more. This weight I feel, I can't describe it. I feel a certain selfishness, a need to withdraw. Please accept my apology and my promise to return, hopefully refreshed and ready to engage you in [whatever].

Tender regards,

Soo

And the winner is....

I'm overweight, but we've discussed that before.

In two days, I'll be among the unemployed. That'll be okay, because I've managed to use most of my pay wisely. It's a lovely feeling.

I'm going to have some time on my hands, and I really don't want to do a lot of what really needs to be done: final unpacking and jettisoning useless crap.

Instead, I've decided to exercise a film away every single day. I bought Mister a stationary bike with my first paycheck, and plan to "bike" my way through a new film every day. I'd like to watch films I've never seen before, although watching all the Star Trek films in order must be done, as it's never been done (by me) before.

Mister has lists of films I've asked him to produce, based on the American Film Institute's "top films" list, as well as access to lists of Oscar winners and nominees for best film. Before I troll those lists to kit out my netflix queue, however, I'd like to ask my lovely readers for their input.

Which films would you recommend? I do have some "don't go there" issues!

1. No extreme comedy. Giggling + biking = big girl falls.
2. No extreme weepy stuff. Let's just say I'm an moody rollercoaster and Mister gets disturbed when he returns home to a weepy blob.
3. If it's anything like The Big Chill, I probably won't like it.
4. Videodrome is right out. No exceptions.

So go on. Challenge me. Perhaps your film will help me shed some cushion.

PS... One more thing: no porn. I'm just not a porn-before-lunch kinda person, you know?

Eleventy minus thirty eleven equals.... ?

It's a two-fer-Tuesday!

Learn more about me, in twos, than you ever wanted to know. And then, if you want, cut-n-paste and then do one of your own. Link me, if you'd like, just as I linked The Beav, who brought this up in the first place!

Two names you go by:
1. Soo
2. Suzanne

Two things you are wearing right now:
1. a smile
2. glasses

TWO OF your favorite things to do
1. Compute
2. Sing

Two things you want very badly at the moment:
1. silence
2. another Date Night

Two Pets that you have or have had
1. Sarah - the psycho kitty
2. Gigi/Jigs - The girl cat that turned out to be a boy cat.

Two people who will fill this out:
1. Beav already did
2. Possibly Keith

Two things you did last night:
1. Watched my son kick ass in soccer
2. logged in to facebook

Last thing you ate:
1. chicken-bacon-swiss from Arby's
2. meatloaf

Two people you last talked to:
1. The Baby
2. Mister

Two things you’re doing tomorrow:
1. Work
2. Trivia/karaoke

Longest trips taken:
1. Plane/Distance: US - England
2. Car/Time: Atlanta, GA - Monterrey, CA (took us 6 days, thanks for DFW & its 10 miles of malls--tks, Mister!)

Your favorite holidays:
1. Halloween
2. Thanksgiving

Two favorite beverages:
1. Pepsi
2. Pepsi

TAG, YOU’RE IT!

Maxwell's Silver Hammer

**editor's note: after first publishing this post, I realized how totally offensive the title of my blog is. I have chosen not to change it because I think censorship sucks, but do apologize for not actually thinking that one through properly.**

This past weekend, the in-laws came for a visit. At one point someone noticed that a little up the street there were several police cars with lights going. I brushed it off because I was aware of two things: another police officer lived in that area and that in one of the houses in that area the couple did not exactly get on peaceably.

Earlier in the week, a news report informed the local area that in a neighboring town, a woman was bludgeoned to death when she interrupted an alleged burglary in her home. There were no suspects at that time. Her neighbor/coworker was very concerned and disturbed by the event.

The day after that, the concerned neighbor needed medical attention after being shot by an alleged burglar that she interrupted. There was a crime wave in the making, and it was quickly getting very violent!

Only it wasn't a violent crime wave. Turns out this concerned neighbor was [allegedly] covering up for her son, who [allegedly] committed the robbery/murder. She [allegedly] allowed herself to be shot and her house ransacked in order to make it look like another crime scene. The irony was that in fact it did become a crime scene, just not the way she anticipated.

And so mother and son were arrested, him for murder and her for conspiracy, plus a few other things. Only he lived just up the street from me. Two houses up, as a matter of fact, exactly between me and the resident police officer.

Holy crap.

In which I proposition a dinner hostess

Back in March, Mister and I created a fantastic chili recipe which won 2nd place in a contest. First prize was a gift card to an electronics chain store for $100. Pretty nifty. We won a one-night stay plus dinner for two at a local ultra-posh hotel. We guestimated the value of that to be over $200, if one used the 'government' rate instead of the 'civilian' room rate.

And so we went.

We checked in, dropped our bags in the room and checked everything out. I don't know about anyone else, but I've traveled a lot and first order of business is to lay down on the bed to determine how badly I'm going to sleep. Second is to check out the bathroom.

Well, I can say with complete confidence that for room 407 of the [name redacted] Hotel, the bed is ultra-soft, the duvet is so soft you will never in your life experience a nicer blanket, and the bathroom is a dream: super-size whirlpool tub and a roomed-off loo. It is also a two-room suite with a little living room, and they gave us the most delicious, warm chocolate chip cookies as a treat for staying with them. Woot!

We dressed for dinner. I really felt like making it special and so we went posh. I even wore nice sandals! I'm so glad we did, because it really was a fancy dinner, even if it was a buffet, only occasionally marred by the locals who came just for the dinner in their sweatpants and flip-flops. While waiting for our table, the dinner hostess, a pretty young woman, chatted with us. I mentioned it was our first time at the hotel, and she asked us how we liked it.

Our conversation went something like this:

H: ...Welcome to [name redacted]! How do you like it?
S: Wow! The bed is so soft and the room is just great!
H: That's what I had heard.
S: You really should check it out. It's fantastic!
H: ... Um, /hushed voice/ employees aren't really allowed...
S: Oh. Maybe not tonight, but some other time. It's really nice.
H: Perhaps you go to Hilton Head? We have another hotel there that's right on the beach.
S: Oh, I love the beach! I really miss it. I've heard Hilton Head is lovely. /to Mister/ We should go this summer!
M: I think you need to stop.
S: ....?

As we were sitting down to dinner and ordering our wine, Mister explained what he got from the conversation, but said that I showed good taste, considering she was very attractive. I, on the other hand, was mortified. I really had no idea.

George Lucas is a whore

George Lucas started a good thing with Star Wars, A New Hope back in 1977. Things went well with Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi, in spite of the Ewoks, and is hereto known as TOS. There were a few hiccups with the Ewoks cartoon and an unfortunate "holiday special," but fans like me were willing to forgive and forget.

And then, Lucas loses his ever-loving mind. He developed episodes 1-3, hiring some of the best (McGregor, Jackson, and Neeson) and some of the worst (Portman, Christenson) actors available. The plots of 1 and 2 were sketchy, although eventually 3 was intense and in line with episodes 4 through 6. In the meantime, he digitized TOS. Oh, and then he added extra footage to the digitized versions of TOS. By this time, we had 3 different versions of TOS, some on VHS, some on DVD.

And then there was Clone Wars.

First, Lucas created a little serial sketched out by the Samarai Jack team. Presented on Cartoon Network, this was a hard-to-follow series simply because it was run in three-minute segments sporadically throughout certain regular shows on the network. First, one had to enjoy the regular show enough to stay focused. And then one had to remember it was on in the first place. Oh, the joy when it was finally put out on DVD. The whole series, on one DVD. Yay!

Next, Lucas decides that the orginial cartoon series, hereto known as TOCS, just wasn't enough. He created a CGI film, and the actors from episodes 1-3 voiced their animated counterparts. It caused something of a geek squee in anticipation, but did not entirely live up to its expectations.

And then, Lucas decides that the film must also have a CGI cartoon series to fill in the CGI film, introducing new characters that were not part of the live-action film series, even in flashbacks, or even part of the TOCS. This new series, hereto called Teh Stoopids, was also hosted on Cartoon Network as a regular show, rather than the ill-advised three-minute serial. Shortly after the last episode of the first season finished airing, a commercial reminded us to buy Teh Stoopids on DVD the following Tuesday. As this coincided with the release of the next installment of Daniel Craig Walks Shirtless On The Beach, I decided to surprise Mister with the next addition to his Star Wars collection.

I bought Daniel Craig. I did not buy Clone Wars.

Why? Because instead of the entire series of Teh Stoopids on one DVD, only the first four episodes are available at this time. And so in order to get the entire series, we must shill out $14.00 per DVD for a total of six DVDs. Nearly $100, if you include tax and then round up, for one flaming cartoon series, and it's not even the end of the story.

And so I say, George Lucas is a whore.

Editor's note: Daniel Craig Walks Shirtless On The Beach part 2 did not in fact feature Daniel Craig walking shirtless on the beach, unfortunately. He did in the first of his James Bond films, and I was really hoping for a repeat. What a disappointment in that respect, although the writers, with much kindness, did find other ways for Craig fans to glimpse his well-tanned features, bless their hearts!

To Thine Own Self, Be True

Last week, I had a discussion with The Girl about her key ring. Collectively, it weighs about 3 pounds, and holds one key. I asked her to remove one "chain" from the ring because it looks, at first glance, like a weapon sometimes seen in martial arts movies. The last thing anyone needs is to get a school administrator's knickers in a pinch because of a toy that looks sort-of dangerous.

This morning, after The Teens dashed off for the bus, I remembered her key ring had been sitting on the breakfast bar in the kitchen, along with her art portfolio. Hoping she remembered her key, I went to check.

"Oh good! She remembered her key.... Gah! I forgot about that damn throwing star! I hope she took that off.... Oh for the love of... Will those kids ever clean up after themselves? [The Girl] left her Gwee dragon and her coffin candy case *right there.* I'll have to talk to her about that..."

Yes, mine is a strange household. Someday I may tell you how The Boy spent this weekend piecing together old audio equipment using masking and packing tapes to make a headset for his XBox.

that'll leave a mark

I try to mind my own business. I just don't want other people's problems weighing me down. I've got my own baggage, thank you just the same.

I also believe there is a time and a place for everything. Certain discussions just shouldn't be public. One example was the wedding proposal from a few weeks back.

Yesterday, I was minding my own business in the grocery store, checking my list to make sure I'd bought everything I'd intended. A raised female voice floated toward me from behind, and my radar ears perked up. This is what I heard as this young twenty-something couple strolls by:

"...blah blah even before we started dating, I thought you waddled..."

Really? Wow! I'm sure glad you shared that with the world, miss. I'll bet he is, too!

I got me a Chrysler, it's as big as a whale!

Being the busy worker bee that I am, I have not had much time to peruse my favorite haunts lately. Especially the blog of Wil Wheaton, aka Ensign Wesley Crusher of the USS Enterprise. Wednesday, I made time for him, and found that not only had he changed the layout of his blog, he had also designed a t-shirt for sale at Woot.

I'm not a t-shirt buyer, although I want to be. I'm large and forever thinking that "someday," I will be thinner, so why waste all that money on stuff I won't be able to wear without looking dumpy, later? However, Wheaton's shirt is so full of win, I decided instantly that I. Must. Have. It.

The deal was sealed when I learned two things: one, it was only $10, and two, for another $5, I could have "overnight" shipping.

And so I ordered one yesterday (Thursday morning). I'd never before purchased anything from Woot, so I was unaware of this lovely little caveat of theirs that warns its customers after their cards are processed that the actual processing of their order may take as much as five days.

WTF?!

But guess what was on my doorstep today? Uh-huh, that's right. My. Very. Own. Wheaton. T!

**Will be updated with the photo of me, wearing my Wheaton Shirt, once I find that damn camera!

Perhaps not.

Back in Ole Virginny, Mister was into karaoke. He had his favorite place and his favorite KJ. He even had a list of all the songs he'd done before, and, for a while at least, on which nights he sang them.

Here in the asscrack of America, Mister is into trivia. There are literally a dozen or more places to go, and there's trivia every flaming night of every flaming week. He even has a favorite trivia master, a guy who used to be (or may still be, I can't get a straight answer) a radio DJ.

We used to go out on Wednesday nights for "miscellany" trivia to this restaurant that specialized in Argentinian cuisine. It was open for precisely one year. Unfortunately, being the buckle of the bible belt, the liquor license was more than they could take, and they closed rather than renew.

A few weeks later, Trivia Man finds a new Wednesday spot, a little redneck dive on the south side of town, past the "Motor Mile" and just before the ghetto. They host karaoke every night as well. Yes, even Mondays. Mister likes this, because on Wednesdays he can get both trivia and a song! This bar also serves food, but after this week's fiasco, I think they just need to stick to beer, even though their beer list can be recited by the waitress. Yes, it's that short. You better like Michelob.

This past Wednesday, I was witness to a horror no one should ever experience. It was such a nightmare! There was pain and humiliation, a big chick and Ichebod Crane, bad food and an announcer giving a play-by-play as the whole thing unfolded.

At the half time of the trivia game, Trivia Man gets everyone's attention as Ichebod goes on one knee and produces a ring box for his girl. She immediately responds with, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! OMG!! STOP EMBARRASSING ME!!"

There was absolute silence in the place as Ichebod just looks at her like a deer caught in the headlights. A few moments go by, and he finally accepts the situation. He gets up, puts the box back into his pocket, takes out his wallet, throws some money on the table (I assume for their meal) and walks out.

The silence is now very heavy. Big Girl gets up a few minutes later, says a few words to Trivia Man, and leaves as well. Finally, people start talking, and the game slowly resumes.

That was, most definitely, OMG.