Nerves of steel

Happy New Year's Eve Day! So Kerry and I planned this little get together tonight, and there are so many little details bouncing around in my head that my head hurts. I'm a complete paranoid, as is obvious from the evidence. I have the ability of making myself completely sick over things that I worry about. Seriously, I'm surprised that I don't have an ulcer. Oh well, I make up for it with strange dizzy spells.

Anyway, we planned this hotel get together. Let's go through the list of worries. You can stop reading now, seriously. The purpose of me typing each of these out is to see in print just how silly each individual worry is.

1) I didn't invite everyone I should have.
This is bothering me. I based my invitations not only on who my friends are, but also on people that would likely be interested in attending. This is a low-key deal, also. I really don't know why I'm so upset about this one, I invited people that I typically hang out with on NYE. No one else even talked to me about it (or any NYE plans, for that matter) after the fact, so I should really just stop worrying about that.

2) It will get out of hand.
I'm scared that this get-together will somehow magically deteriorate into a college kegger or something. I know that this thought is ridiculous. Everyone's an adult now, and no one is going to throw a TV out a window or urinate on a sofa. No one will be passed out on my floor. Jeez, Ben, it will be OK. It's NYE for God's sake. It's OK to be a little louder than normal.

3) Important details will not come together
An example of this is the sandwich platter that was ordered yesterday. Jimmy John's was supposed to call us yesterday for payment, but never did. This isn't the big deal I'm making it into. We'll call this morning, and it will all get straightened out. If not, then it won't be a problem anyway, because everyone is bringing snacks. Ugh. Again, not a big deal.

4) I'm leaving my girl alone with my parents
OK this one has many layers. First off, it's our first night away from Gwen. Yikes. However, my parents are extremely competent, Gwen knows them very well and is perfectly comfortable with them, and she's not sick or anything. However, there are other details about the house that are freaking me out. This calls for a tangent! A couple of days ago we started smelling a kind of dry, dusty smell when the furnace was running. Of course, we called the furnace people and they sent a tech out. He looked at it, and there's nothing wrong with it. No carbon monoxide or leaking gas or anything that will kill us. There's dust or sediment or something in the vents, and there's not a darn thing we can do about it. However, I know my parents, and I know that they're going to smell this smell and automatically assume that they're dying of black lung. OK, my mom will. My dad will take it all in stride. So that's one fear about this evening. The other is their fear and hatred of cats, and the fact that we have two of them and they're the two most evil cats in this city, if not the entire state. Back to reality -- I must remove myself from these paranoid delusions. My parents will be perfectly capable of conquering these items, after some slight explanation. Oh, that and locking the cats downstairs for the evening. There! Crisis averted.

I'm sure that there's other things nagging at me, but I can't think of them at the moment. Heck, I feel better already. Dear friends and family, I'm sorry that I worry so much and that my worries touch on all of you. It doesn't stop my knowledge that you're all the best people on this entire planet. Love you all, and happy New Year!

Supplemental: The stupidity continues.

Perhaps I should say, "The stupidity continue's", because seriously...gah. I got an email from yet a different manager that read as follows:

Subject: Pizza's
There are 5 partial pizza's left over in the lunch room.


Thanks, and have a great day. ;^)

Poop, Punctuation, and Prodigious Paraphrasing

I was playing World of Warcraft last night, talking with my friends over voice chat. I have never tried to give the impression that I'm not a first class geek. I am a geek to my core. So there I was, playing WoW and talking to Lundo and Amy, his wife. As they so often do, our conversation turned to talk of feces. Human waste, specifically, and of said solid material. OK so we were talking about strange occurrences like a liquid > solid > liquid phenomenon, and abnormally, as well. Needless to say, Amy was less than impressed with the conversation, but even she was forced to laugh. Why? It's simple: Poop is funny. So are farts, which are undeniably related to poop. There's just no getting around it. That's some good humor right there.

I'm wearing jeans at work today, because it's a management-proclaimed "Jean's Day" [sic]. I was sorely tempted to write an article entitled "Our friend, the apostrophe!" and post it on my work intranet. SERIOUSLY people. I realize that my English degree might give me some high and mighty notions of my own supreme command over the language, but come ON! The proper use of an apostrophe should be taught in grade school.

(I know that this blog is going to come back to haunt me...I'm criticizing the misuse of an apostrophe while at the same time quite probably making several grammatical or spelling errors of my own. Nonetheless, onward I trudge.)

A lesson: DON'T USE AN APOSTROPHE WHEN ADDING AN "S" TO PLURALIZE SOMETHING. There is no such thing as a "pair of jean's", nor is there a "pair of pant's", or even "panty's". No no no no. These things are (for whatever reason) plural. Jeans. Pants. Panties. (Why is 'bra' singular and 'panties' plural? Seems kinda backwards-ish.) I'm not going to get long-winded here. My objective in this blog is not to teach. It is simply to criticize. I am merely pointing out another in the long list of reasons that members of management are stupid.

...And don't (see that? Contractions are an acceptable use!) give me any crap about how the person could have just been typing fast or something. That doesn't fly. His announcement could be edited easily. OK, I swear I'm done now. On to other things. (or "thing's, if you're a dunderhead.) ;^)

On the Jabberboard, there's an ongoing collection of cover songs done by members of the forum. Each round has its own restrictions, set by whomever is chosen by the creator of the previous round. In the most recent round, T-rav ruled that each song had to be based off of a book or a film. I slaughtered the eardrums of my fellow jabberrawkers with my painful rendition of this monstrosity:

Captain's Log, Supplemental: Turducken

I totally forgot to mention that on Christmas Day, my grandmother totally made turducken. It was actually sent to her by one of her neices. Like, she was sent a frozen turducken. Gimme a W! Gimme a T! Gimme an F! What's that spell? WTF!?!?!

Kerry and I left before the turducken was done. Apparently these things take like an entire day to roast. I would have eaten some just to say I had, but Kerry's aversion to all things poultry would have prevented her from getting within several feet of the Voltron-like beast.

Didn't stop me from taking a picture of it, though! Next year, Osturduckencorphail! (A quail, stuffed into a cornish game hen, stuffed into a chicken, stuffed into a duck, into a turkey, into an ostrich. It can be yet another reason to hate the ostrich.)

Well that's done...

The MRI wasn't nearly as bad as I expected. I have had one before, but not since I was about 13 or 14. Anyway, I think the thing that I had been fearing most about it was the IV. I have a thing against needles. However, yesterday I had an IV in one arm and a blood draw from the other, so I have freaking track marks on my arms like some junkie. Whoopee!

Interesting advances in medical technology have led to the option of piped-in music during an MRI. This is funny for a couple of reasons. First off, the volume of the music isn't high at all. However, for anyone that's had one, is a doctor, or has seen an episode of House or Scrubs or something, you know that an MRI machine is not a low-volume thingamajig. It's loud. It goes something like WHRRRRRRR CLACK CLACK CLACK CLACK CLACK. However, there are pauses in the whirring and clacking, which allowed my selection of 90s alternative music to filter to my ears. The result was something like WHRRRRRRR CLACK CLACK CLACK CLACK CLACK Euro trash girl!!!! She's my Euro trash girl! WHRRRRRR CLACK CLACK CLACK CLACK CLACK Head like a hole! Black as your soul! I'd rather die! Than give you conWHRRRRRRRRCLACK CLACK CLACK CLACK CLACK. Thankfully the whole MRI process was over shortly after they started playing Creed. Being trapped in a tube and forced to listen to Creed is pretty much my vision of hell.

Here are some fun things to do if ever you're stuck in an MRI tube:
1. Pretend you're Spock's body in Star Trek 2, being launched onto the Genesis planet.
2. Try to develop x-ray vision and see through the plastic directly in front of you
3. Count WHRRRs and CLACKs
4. Whenever any medical staff member asks how you're doing, reply in song.
5. Practice long division in your head.

Yeah, ok, so it's boring. Anyway, that was my lovely afternoon yesterday. Apparently everything is OK...they said that they'd tell me if there was anything critical. I assume that means egg-sized brain tumors, and no one has called me yet. So that's cool, anyway.

I'm excited to play some WoW with Lundo this evening. That's my random thought for the afternoon.

So New Years Eve plans have taken shape and form, and Kerry and I are staying at a hotel with a bunch of friends, and it's going to freaking rock. My parents are watching the Gwenner that night (they say that she gets to stay up as late as she wants! I predict...7:00 PM) and we've got a suite, so there will be much revelry and the playing of video games. Life is good. The hotel actually has an Irish pub in it, which is completely cool. Also, the fact that none of us will have to drive that night is SUPER awesome to the billionth power. Even if you're stone cold sober on NYE (like me, last year) driving is terrible, because everyone else is like 200% more likely to be wasted. It's a huge bonus not to have to drive.

That's all I've got for now.

Tis the Season

Good gourd, that was a lot of snowy driving. I understand that I live here in Minnesota and some harrowing driving experiences are to be expected, but it sure seemed like old man winter was out to get us over the course of this weekend.

Kerry and I strapped lil' Gwenner into her car seat on Saturday morning and headed up to Bemidji. It was snowing like crazy when we left, and once we hit Highway 94 headed in a nor'westerly direction, it took roughly a second and a half before we saw the first car in the ditch. There were several more after that. The weather let up for a while about halfway through the journey, but the roads got nasty again before we arrived. So, a 3 1/2 hour trip took about 5 hours. Sucky. Oh well, it wasn't as bad as my brother-in-law's trek from Duluth to Bemidji on Saturday night. Duluth had received about 10 inches of snow that evening. I feel for him.

We headed south again on Monday (Christmas Eve), this time to my grandparents' place near Taylors Fall, MN. Once again, it was snowing and the roads were yucky. The biggest problem on Monday wasn't the snow, though. The snow was relatively light. The biggest driving problem on Monday was the entire city of Cambridge, MN, whose stoplight system was obviously designed by some complete moron. Seriously, it's not that big a town, yet it took us at least 1/2 hour to get through. Someone seriously needs to do something about that. Um yeah, I'm too lazy to write to anyone, though. Heh.

Our driving woes weren't over, though. We left my G-parents' place on Tuesday toward home, which is usually only a 45 minute drive. Yeah, it took us an hour and a half, because of snow (again!?!) and moron drivers who manage to completely forget how to drive in the snow over the course of a relatively short Minnesota summer. Seriously, people. Teach your idiot brains how to retain the ability to drive in snow. I'm not gonna describe the technique here, because I pray that anyone reading this knows that it's not usually necessary to drive 10 MPH, and it's even less necessary to attempt to drive 300 MPH in your tiny lil' rear-wheel-drive sports car.

Christmas itself (aside from the driving) was wonderful. It's so fun to see my little girl's eyes light up when she sees a lighted Christmas tree or hears people singing a carol. Of course, she doesn't really understand the concept of the season yet, but she loved it all the same. We taught her to say, "Ho Ho Ho!", which provided hours of hilarity. My dad provided an overdose of cuteness this weekend when he read "The Night Before Christmas" to Gwen and her cousin Charlotte, along with the youngest of my cousins, ages 7, 5, and 1 (or so)

I'm kind of freaked out today because I have to go in for an MRI. I've been having these dizzy spells lately, and although I'm positive that it's due to stress or an inner-ear infection or something, we've got to rule out all of the less pleasant possibilities. Like, I suppose, brain tumors or something. Thus the MRI. I also (lucky me!) get to subject myself to an EKG (in case it's something heart-related) and a blood test (in case it's vampirism or lycanthropy, two very distinct possibilities knowing the circles I run in.)

Other than that, I don't have much to report at this time. I thank everyone that got me awesome stuff this Christmas (especially my lovely wife, who knows me better than anyone in the universe...thanks, babe!!!). Happy holidays to everyone.

Free Coffee / Christmas Music

I just took a sip of my morning coffee and it's about the same temperature as...well...the room. I guess you'd call that room temperature. It's gross, but I'm drinking it anyway, because it's free. I love the fact that I get free coffee at work. However, this morning's masterful blend of lukewarm delight is most likely from sometime last night, and it's been sitting out in a carafe all night cooling down. That's the problem with free coffee. You get what you pay for. Know what? I'm drinking it anyway. I'd put my mug in the microwave, but my mug is metal. \m/>_<\m/

Ahh, work. I'm sure that it's the same situation at workplaces all over the world, but there just isn't a lot to do on the last day before the Christmas holiday. We're closed Monday as well as Tuesday, so today is that day. The piped-in music here has been set to Christmas music for the last month or so. Now, Christmas music doesn't bother me all that much, but the crap that's force fed to us here is really really terrible. Also, there are no less than five versions of "Little Drummer Boy" that play (along with a couple other oft-repeated songs). This means that you hear that song at least five times a day.

One thing that holiday weeks like this are good for is Office Supply Art. T-Rav made a pretty awesome Pipe Cleaner Octopus over at his work, and after seeing a picture of it I knew that I had to quickly find some sort of defense against a monstrosity of that nature. Behold, for I have summoned CTHULAHU:

Merry Christmas, everyone. If you're into that sort of thing. If not, well then have a great weekend. Me, I'm super-duper looking forward to Christmas. It's gonna be awesome to see my little girl light up. She doesn't quite understand the whole unwrapping presents thing, but she's catching on. She loves toys, too...once she gets one out of the box, it doesn't take her very long to figure out how to use it, and she just goes to town. It's hilarious. Anyway, we'll have quite a bit of Christmas for the little girl over the course of this weekend. We're heading up to the in-laws' house tomorrow morning and staying there until Monday. From there, we head back to my grandparents' place for Christmas eve and stay until Christmas day. I'm so looking forward to seeing my family. I wish you all a very merry Christmas. Even that stupid ostrich.

Thirsty Thursday

Tonight, I bottle beer! Yes indeed. Kerry's going out on the town this evening for some good quality time with her friend Megan, and I'm home with my lil' Punk. However, my delicate young child goes to bed at 7:00, which will leave me with a blissful amount of time to...well, to bottle beer. The Cream Stout will find a much overdue home this evening, where we will eagerly await its carbonation, in hopes that I didn't somehow screw up the batch.

So last night was really weird. I played some WoW with Reuben and Ryan, and afterwords heard what could only be described as a "commotion" coming from outside. When I peeked out the window, there was this red sleigh that had crashed. It was carrying this fat old guy in a red coat, and was being pulled by what looked like reindeer...

OK No. That didn't happen. What I did see, though, was a car. The car was stopped across the street, running. Some guy (presumably someone that the car's driver knew) was laying on the hood of the car, yelling into the car. Whomever the girl was that was driving was freaking out, like not in a scared way, in a pissed way. She was crazily jerking her head back and forth and whatnot. I couldn't understand what the heck he or she were saying, but my brain puts words to it: "She didn't mean anything to me! Aww come on, baby! Don't go! It was nothing! It was harmless! Really, you're much better at that sort of thing than her!" and so forth.

So of course, I called the cops. It was a commotion, after all, and I have an interest in keeping my neighborhood free of commotion. OK maybe it's because I'm becoming a crochety old man. But seriously, dearest people of the world, if you don't want cops called simply follow these simple rules: Have your ridiculous freakouts
a) In the comforts of your own private residence, and
b) At a lower-than-detectable-by-third-party volume, and
c) Sometime prior to 12:30 AM.

It was funny, because there I was on the phone to police dispatch, and another car pulled up. A guy got out of the car, looked at the man laying on the other car's hood, said something to himself of a "WTF?" nature, and whipped out a cell phone. The police dispatcher said to me, "My partner here is also getting a description of this". I was like, "Yeah, I see a guy on his cell phone outside."

Exciting times. There was a squad car there within SECONDS. That's always nice to see (especially when remembering back to the day several years ago when Ryan's car got nailed in a hit-and-run right out in front of my house, and the police took like 2 hours to respond).

The Problem

See, right here? This is the problem with a blog. Eventually I run into a time when I just genuinely don't have a damn thing that's interesting to talk about. However, it's my nature to plug away anyway, and end up with a page of mindless drivel. Hah. Oh well, I'm not the one reading it. That's you. Sucka.

It sucks that it's monday, because I'm back at work. However, it RULES that it's monday and I can go home, crack open a beer if I want to, and spend the entire evening
a) NOT studying!
b) NOT going to class!
c) NOT giving my daughter a bath!

OK that third one will require some explanation. First, I don't have to do it tonight because it was my turn last bath, and that was last night. Since she gets a bath every other night, I have some time before my turn comes around again. Second, I don't know why, but giving Gwen a bath is seriously the most stressful thing in the world to me. No's just a phobia or something. I constantly think that I'm going to get soap in her eyes or that she'll slip out of my grip when I'm taking her out of the tub or something. It FREAKS ME OUT to the point of stomach aches.

That said, I've never actually had any of the catastrophes that I envision happening. In fact, Gwenner LOVES the bath. She plays with her tub toys and has a grand old time. The problem is entirely on my end. But right now, I don't care. Because I DON'T have to give her a bath tonight!! Nor do I have to go to class or do any reading whatsoever. That rules.

Metal and Beef

FINISHED WITH FINALS! Yet another semester has come to a close, and I can't express how much that rocks. Three more and I'll be a lawyer. Well, provided I pass the bar exam, of course. We'll have to see.

Last night I went and saw The Sword (as mentioned previously) Ryan, T-Rav, and Greg were there as well. The first two bands were interesting to say the least, in a way that pretty much sucked. First off, I understand that metal shows are supposed to be loud, but without earplugs in there was no way that things at that volume could possibly be considered music. It was so loud. Jeez. I had earplugs in. Therefore it was tolerable. Well, the volume was. Not the music.

The first band was called Black Cobra. They were a two-piece. Yep. A guitarist and a drummer. OK, in my opinioin, this does not fit the definition of a band. This is, rather, a couple of dudes that have been jamming together since junior high or something, and have not found a bassist. In the paraphrased words of good Rhyandjay, "they've obviously practiced a lot, because their timing is excellent for making music that sounds like garbage". That pretty much sums that up.

The next band was Violent Thorr. I seriously have no idea how I can possibly describe this band. The music was mediocre, although sometimes displayed some refreshing vocal rhythms (albeit with a complete lack of melody). The downer was that the singer was such a raving lunatic. I'm hoping that Ryan ( will explain his homeless man theory. Anyway, the guy would rant about something like the government slaying people with mind control rays or some other batshit insane theory, and then he would yell, "DO YOU KNOW WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT???" and the crowd would yell, "YEAH!" except for those of us at the back, who would yell, "NO!!!" We laughed a lot.

The Sword rocked. Not much else to say about that. (Sorry for the lack of links here...I haven't figured out how to do everything in Safari...the tools don't show up like they do in Internet Exploder.)

Now on to the beef. In celebration of my finishing finals, Kerry and Gwen and I went to lunch yesterday. I have a hatred for pink burgers, so I ordered mine well done. It came back bloody pink. Do cooks have to work in the freaking dark or something? We were like the ONLY people in the ENTIRE restaurant. Seriously, I have no idea how that burger could have possibly been not done. I sent it back, which means that the cook probably waited for it to cool and then stuck it between his ass cheeks before cooking it. Oh well, it came back well done this time. Grr.

Captain's Log: Supplemental

I wish I were in the Matrix. Then I'd have that spikey thing shoved into the back of my head. My eyelids would flutter, and I'd open them and say, "I know Criminal Procedure. Oh, and Ninjitsu." Then I'd take my final tomorrow and kick some ass, both literally and figuratively.


So yesterday was a crazy day. I started getting emails from my wife in the afternoon, saying that there were police cars over at my next-door neighbor's house. Two cars pulled up. Kerry was looking out the window trying to see what was going on. We didn't see our neighbor at all, but the police seemed interested in the garage.

She continued to email me with more details. More police came, bringing the total to four squad cars. Then a crime lab van pulled up. As I'm reading all of this, I'm just thinking "holy crap"... Kerry thought that his garage had been broken into, but it seemed to me that all of that police action was a little excessive for a break-in. The guy had some sweet cars in his garage, but still.

Everything was wrapped up by the time I got home, but there were still some of our neighbor's friends and relatives milling about, so Kerry went out to ask after our neighbor.

It turns out that he had been found dead in the garage yesterday morning. It was either from a heart attack or carbon monoxide poisoning.

We knew the guy. Not too well, but well enough for neighbors in this day and age. He was a nice guy, and young. I'd guess mid-40s, but I'm a bad judge. He was always very outgoing and talkative, and eager to have a good conversation. He lent me his lawnmower one day when mine was broken. I realize that these are all little things, but that's what our neighborly relationship was based on, and he was a really good guy. This is a really sad thing.

Our other-side neighbors sold their house, so we'll be getting new neighbors on both sides. (The neighbor that died lived there alone). It's selfish to say at a time like this, but I really hope we don't end up surrounded by idiots.

On to happier thoughts. This morning I had to go to a meeting at 7:00 AM (this is not a happy thought yet) and it was colder than a son of a bitch this morning (still not happy) but it meant that my wife got to sleep in (hey...not fair! And not a happy thought yet!) and I got to take my bundled up lil' girl in to daycare, just me and her. (OK, happier now). Since it was so cold, we could easily see our breath as we walked out to the car. I sat her in the car seat and she started going "Hoooo!" (blowing out) on purpose to see her own breath. I simply can't describe how cute that was. She did it for a good while, too...until the car heater finally made her breath invisible again.

I have a final tomorrow. It always sucks to have a final on a Saturday, and I've had two this year. But tomorrow is the last one. Woot! Unfortunately, much of my study time from last night was spent being distracted by Married to the Sea. So it goes. I'll study hard tonight.

The Joys of Beer

So my new hobby this year is brewing my own beer. I was turned on to this lovely process by Chad, the incredibly awesome drummer from Jabberwocky. I say "incredibly awesome" with no hint of bias...the guy's really freaking good. The fact that it's my band that he plays in is just added bonus. Someday here I'll chat about Jabberwocky.

When tasting the homebrew of others, I've had some really good stuff and much more horrible crap. That's just the nature of the process. Thus far, I've been lucky and haven't had a bad batch. I'm sure that something bad will come floating along eventually, but that's OK. I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.

I'm really not much of a cook, but that's a lot of what beer brewing is. I follow a recipe and I cook it. Then, essentially, I let it rot in a plastic pail. Then I let it continue to rot in a glass jar. Then in some bottles. Then I drink it, and it's fantastic. Please, biologists -- You may refrain from giving a lecture on the difference between "rotting" and "fermenting".

The point of this foundation is to tell a story of awkwardness. You see, Kerry's boss is a master homebrewer. The guy makes fantastic beer. He uses a much more complicated process than I, starting from actual, whole grain rather than the n00b approach of using extract. (For the record, Chad also uses this all-grain process and also makes excellent beer, but that doesn't really come into this story.)

When I had brewed my very first batch of beer, I thought it was absolutely fantastic. This isn't necessarily a false thought, but I tend to think highly of myself and I'll admit it. Oh well. For whatever reason, I though it would be a good idea to give a couple of bottles to Kerry's boss. I was giving it away to other friends at the time, and thought he might like it and stuff.

So, we got to the holiday party at Kerry's work and Kerry's boss was talking to me. He said, "Hey, I finally tried some of your beer. It was good for your first batch. I need to get you my recipe for cooking the grains, though, so you can get rid of that maltiness bzzzzzzzzzzzz." He didn't actually trail off with a buzzing sound. It would have been funny if he did, but that's really just a representation of my brain when I realized that the conversation had suddenly flown far over my head. I didn't have the heart to stop him and tell him that I'm just a malt-extract using n00b. I would have fessed up, if there were any more to the conversation, but for some reason or another I found myself suddenly talking to someone else.

The idea of me giving my unworthy beer to him seems, in my mind, something akin to me going to orchestra hall, grabbing one of the members' violins, and playing a song for them. The resulting screeches would be less than pleasant so said professional, but I can see myself getting some sort of weird enjoyment from the process. I'm going to quit writing now, before I fly too far afield. Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.


Ahh December. There's snow on the ground, the air is cold, and once again I've been hit by inspiration to write something. Having forgotten all of my other logins and whatnot, here I am with a new page. In case you're finding yourself wondering at the title of this wonderful site of my mind's purging, try to stop fretting. I'm just being silly. Fear not, noble Ostrich. I don't hate you. In fact, I've never met an Ostrich I didn't like. I've never met an Ostrich at all. For that reason, I've created this page to express my loathing of said stupid bird. If you can't follow this logic, I don't blame you one whit.

Since this is the first post, I really don't have any specific topic to chat about. You can stop reading if you'd like. Really, I won't mind. I'm just gonna ramble. You all know me well anyway, or I wouldn't have given you the URL in the first place.

I'm looking forward to going to see The Sword on Saturday. I'm not usually one for Metal music, but these guys seriously rock. Ryan turned me into a fan by a) giving me their CD and b) taking me to a show last year. It was the only time in all of my concert-going history that I've left while a band was playing for the express purpose of purchasing earplugs. I'm gonna need another pair for this weekend, but I'm amped about the show. It's going to be a fantastic release after finals, and Ryan, T-Rav, and quite possibly Lundo are all going to be present. This is awesome for several reasons. First and most obvious, these guys are my bestest friends and therefore are by default awesome. Second, and less obvious: I'm a wee little guy, and this is a metal show. Therefore, surrounding myself with men of great physical stature is an added bonus, especially if some tool decides that he wants to force-mosh wee little me.

Force-mosh. That's a new one. Perhaps it's something about the genre of Metal music in general, but what the fork is with the incredibly stupid notion that the people around you actually WANT to be assaulted by your smelly swinging fists and butting head? Seriously. People are dumb.

But it's not just Metal music. People are just as dumb at hippie show. There's always some farking reject that wants to spin around and flail and be annoying to everyone. Holy tangent here. The point is that the Sword is going to rule. And that's awesome.

...and it will herald the best time of the winter: Break. I'll be blissfully off of school from December 15th all the way to January 14th. This is a MONTH. That's the longest winter break I've ever had. I lucked out with early finals this year. I can't wait to be able to spend time with my family again.

Of course, I'll still have to be stuck at work all day twiddling my thumbs (not a lot goes on here during the holiday season) but there's nothing wrong with that. Not having to go to school at night makes work seem like a vacation.

My little girl Gwendolyn took a freakin' step last night. She's SO CLOSE to learning how to walk. Last night Kerry and I were at a party for Kerry's work, and Gwen was standing, holding on to a table. She turned around to look at me, let go, and stepped over into my arms. I couldn't believe it. Of course, I was surrounded by all of Kerry's coworkers, so I couldn't scream out my glee. But there it was. I was proud of her. I also taught her how to say "cow" last night. She cracks me up. She just stares at my lips as I form the word, and you can just see her little brain working. She looked at me as I said, "cow", while holding up a small plastic bovine. Then she grabbed it and started going to town. "Kah. Koy. KAW. COW COW COW COW COW!".

That's all for now. Welcome to the new blog. Hopefully I'll actually post on this one. Thanks for stopping by.