Smoking Hole In the Ground

2011-12-11T21:48:00.001-05:00

I wish that for just twenty-four hours, I could look and feel as attractive and confident as I did ten years ago, when I had no reason to feel either of those things.

A lesson in hypocrisy

2011-08-28T18:57:00.001-04:00

So, after two weeks of teamwork intensive practices, urging everyone to play as a team instead of individuals, and holding forth on why no one should argue with bad calls, the team was put to the test. They passed. Teamwork was solid, no big egos, not one peep about bad calls.
I, however, failed miserably. I acted as if my screaming about bad calls was the only thing keeping us in the game. In just a few seconds, I lost faith in everything. Instead of relying on the team's solid performance, I freaked out. Instead of falling back on my years of experience doing this, I became unhinged. I acted as if the mountains of blood, sweat, time, energy, emotions, and money that I and everyone else have put into the league were not as important as some errant zebra out to make a name. My outbursts cost my team a penalty and nearly got me thrown out of the game. I pouted for several minutes, when I should have been doing my job. Only the stern words of the medic snapped me out of it. Did my behaviour cause the loss? Possibly.
As my coaching career winds down, I am more and more concerned with how I will leave this league. I have never been concerned with my win/loss record (it's dismal), but I now worry that it indicates something really bad: that this league is now worse off than when I started coaching. Fuck a legacy, I should have focused on "First, do no harm." I am now in the position of apologizing for three years of my life, when I only ever meant to help. I know I'm indulging in self-pity here, but I really don't know what I can do to make some positive changes. I guess I should start by not being such a whiny little bitch.

Snowflake

2011-08-21T22:20:00.001-04:00

Me to team: "Everyone needs to stop making exceptions for themselves. Everyone. Even me. And don't come ask me after practice if I meant you, because I do."

Skater to me: (after practice) "You didn't mean me, right coach? I'm still an exception to the rule about exceptions, right?"

Me: "Of course. I meant everyone except you."

2011-04-03T19:24:00.001-04:00

Last night, I disappointed about 2000 strangers, and around 50 of the people of I care about most in this world.
The advantage to knowing that you're going to fail is that numbers like that don't upset you as much.

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"Roller Derby Coaching: Rules" or, "Roller Derby Coaching Rules!"

2011-02-08T14:04:00.001-05:00

first in a series...

1) Don't do it for the money or fame. Don't do it for adoration. Don't do it for the power. Not because those are bad reasons, but because those things don't exist in this job.
2) If you stick with it long enough, you will develop a love for the game. This will not be enough to sustain you.
3) Learn to love things like: laying the track, cleaning bearings, and sweeping the floor. The best part about these jobs is that there is very little competition for them.
4) It's ok if you don't know the rules very well. Neither do your skaters. The only people who can call bullshit on you are the Refs.
5) Make friends with the Refs. They see a lot of stuff you don't, and they are perhaps the only shoulders you can cry on.
6) Only one thing feels better than winning.
7) Their triumphs belong to them; their failures are yours.
8) The douche move that that bunch of cheaters used on you last bout should be part of your strategy next bout.
9) The only thing that feels better than winning is knowing you helped someone improve. The afterparties are better for victories, though.

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2011-01-11T11:17:00.001-05:00

I am saddened by the fact that people from both political parties are now openly blaming the other side for the senseless tragedy in Tucson. I am angered by the fact that they are making an attempt to mask the blame in grief.
Think about that little girl. Just elected to student council, going to visit her congressional representative. Would you want her to know that her death meant so little that it would be used to rail against a political website? Or a talking head on tv?
Do you think that she, with a naive and innocent interest in politics, would want people to work together after such a tragedy? Or perhaps to take stock of ourselves, and find what humanity remained; and, once we had it, to look for it in others? I've answered these questions for myself, I hope that some other people do the same.

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2011-01-01T15:49:00.001-05:00

Request rollover information. Rebalance portfolio. Activate card. Check member rewards status. Update beneficiary information. View amortization calendar. Check escrow account.
It dosen't really seem like me doing any of this stuff. I'm the guy that the repo man woke up at 0230 so he could get his Van Halen CDs out of the car. I'm the guy that the girls at the check cashing place and the Indian gentleman at the liquor store knew by name. Bench warrants? Check. Insurance? Never heard of it? Sell weed? Maybe to some friends.
Its not a "How did I get here?" sort of moment. It's more of a "Which one of those guys am I really?" kind of thing. Left to my own devices, would I still be the shady, skinny, charming, broke, unemployed hustler I was those few long years ago? Or was it just a phase, sowing some wild oats before settling into a more predictable, stable, happier and fatter life? Also, who would win in a fight?
I have a sneaking suspicion that I could still go back to being a no-goodnik. Also, that I could have done ok in college if I had really tried. I guess the point of all this is to try and figure out what parts of each I want to take forward with me this year.

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2010-12-31T19:56:00.002-05:00

For me, it hasn't been that bad a year. I got a raise, which is nice. No one broke into our house this year, which is great. My maternal grandmother passed, which is sad; but also kind of bittersweet because she suffered from Alzheimer's disease for the last years of her life. My mother, brother, sister, and I were able to be present when she departed, so that's a small comfort for us. I got a few more formal schools to add to my resume. Job status is stable, which is nice. We got out from under the condo, and Mel got out from her debt.
Actually, it seems like a pretty dope year. Why am I so anxious to put it to bed?
I know that my own good fortune has come during a time when many of my friends are experiencing sadness, loss, heartbreak, bereavement, unemployment, and many other things. This dosen't neccesarily take away from my appreciation of my own good fortune, but it does certainly color the lens that I view my life through. I know that my own tough times will come around again. I hope that I have shared enough with the people that I love that they will help me through those times.
Whatever your circumstances, I hope you know that if 2011 sucks, we'll help each other cry, move, eat, and look for work. If it is awesome, we'll help each other laugh, drink, dance, and party.

2008-12-03T12:01:00.003-05:00

Because her birthday is tomorrow, here are...

5 Reasons I Like Maureen
1) Her sense of humor.
2) She can skate like the wind and hit like a freight train.
3) She's got mad skills outside the paint.
4) Her smile. Though it sometimes goes missing, when it comes back, it lights up the room; which is good if it's dark and you need to find stuff.
5) Because she's always been a great friend to me.

Happy birthday, Tsu! Hope you have a good one.

2008-11-30T11:06:00.002-05:00

Things I have been doing since quitting roller derby:
1. Playing GTA IV.
2. Reading.
3. Playing Disc Golf.
4. Playing and listening to music.
5. Worrying about roller derby.
6. Working overtime.

2008-10-15T12:19:00.004-04:00

A few days ago, I was watching tv and folding laundry, when I saw a trailer for a movie about windshield wipers. A lesser (or more normal) man might ponder the question "How could there be a feature film about windshield wipers?". But not I. I know what fertile creative ground the topic of rain removal is; I was reminded of a conversation I had in high school.
It pouring buckets, naturally. My best friend and I were discussing cars. This was not a new discussion, it had continued uninterrupted since our freshman year. Our english teacher, Ms Strohm, was grading some papers as Tad and I were hashing out the minutiae of various forms of valvetrain engineering. During a lull in the conversation, I looked out the window and lamented the fact that I needed to replace the wipers on my Mustang. Tad inquired whether I would be using blade refills or replacing the actual wiper assembly. I told him that I probably needed to replace the assembly, but would opt for the refills, as they were cheaper. Tad pondered aloud the possibility that there might be a better way to remove rain from the windshield. The problem arises from the shape of the windshield versus the type of motion available to wipe it clean. The glass is more or less rectangular, but the only way to move the wipers themselves is with a motor, which produces only rotary motion, hence the round arcs we are all so familiar with that leave a fairly large portion of the windscreen unwiped. I told him about the system installed on some aircraft, wherein hot, dry, compressed air from the engines is ducted to the front of the windshield, creating a "boundary layer " of air that diverts rain up and over the fuselage. We figured out a way to adapt this to existing automobiles, then dismissed the idea due to exceedingly high cost/benefit ratio. He brought up the exceedingly complicated system then installed on some Mercedes cars, a system that uses a single wiper that extends on the horizontal part of the sweep, then shortens as it nears vertical.Its advantages and drawbacks were discussed at length.
Unbeknownst to us, we had attracted the attention of both our teacher and several classmates. Ms Strohm asked us if we were discussing windshield wipers. I answered in the affirmative, but let her know we were ready to get back to work when she was. Ms Strohm, to her eternal credit, was never one to shy away from some useless knowledge, and asked us to rehash what we had discussed so far, for the class' benefit. She was actually interested, and it wasn't a new thing to be asked to make an impromptu presentation on something in her class if she though the topic was interesting. But never on windshield wipers. We obliged, a bit sheepishly at first, but were surprised to find ourselves deluged (ha!) with questions from the class.
David wanted to know why larger vehicles had their windshield wipers mounted near the roofline, upside down. He pointed to a fire truck idling outside as an example. I had never though about it before, but the answer came smoothly, as though I had rehearsed it for years. "Larger vehicles often have vertical, or nearly vertical windshields. Wipers mounted to the bottom would actually push more water up the glass than wipe it off." Someone else, pointing to the same fire truck, mentioned that the wipers went in opposite directions, rather than the overlapping arcs on most cars. Tad fielded this one, even though I was sure he had as little time to think about it as I had. "The same larger vehicles usually use two separate plates of glass for a windshield, divided by a metal frame. There is no advantage to having the wipers in the same direction, as they cannot overlap each other. Instead, they wipe towards the outside of the vehicle to reduce the amount of rain that runs back on to the glass." I added that this was also seen in pre-1949 automobiles, which were produced before the curved glass we are familiar with was readily available.
I felt like Isaac Newton. Everything about windshield wipers suddenly made sense to me. It was like someone pulled back just a little of the curtain obscuring the engineering that takes place behind everything mankind produces, and the part I peeked at was the chapter on windshield wipers.
Melissa asked about her boyfriend's Mustang, a car I had worked on and raced against. "He took the wipers off to save weight, but when I changed the wipers in my car, they weighed next to nothing." She was right. They weighed nothing. But her boyfriend hadn't just pulled off the wipers. He pulled the wiper motor, which is a hulking, power-hogging heavy beast of a thing. (His Mustang, of course, was faster than mine. But I had windshield wipers, air conditioning, and a back seat.) I told her that removing the big electric wiper motor was common among drag racers, and most of them just made sure to Rain-X their glass every week, and didn't drive in rain very much.
The Q and A lasted a bit longer, and amazingly, stayed on topic. Tad and I covered other points, like vacuum-powered wiper motors, the three-wiper system on some British cars, and intermittent circuitry, with a grace and ease that we couldn't seem to find when discussing Ethan Frome. Afterwards, Ms Strohm thanked us, mentioning that she had never considered the intricacies involved in cleaning rain off a car window before. We nodded as solemnly as two high-school seniors could, hopefully leaving her with the completely bogus impression that we were serious men, who considered serious issues like this on a regular basis, and not just two lucky friends who bullshitted their way out of thirty minutes of class time talking about car parts.

2008-09-17T19:02:00.003-04:00

This house was built in 1949. During these renovations, I've often wondered about the lives lived under this roof. How many children learned to read here? How many pumpkin pies graced the table over the course of 59 Thanksgivings? What did these people do for a living? And who the fuck put that stupid linoleum in the kitchen? The idea intrigues me.

Last Wednesday was a strange day in that we had scheduled the contractor to come in and finish a few items in the afternoon, but otherwise, we had nothing scheduled save hangovers. I woke early and went to sit on the couch to await a very special package that required a signature. Before it arrived, however, a plumber showed up and informed me that the contractor had hired him to finish the plumbing. I showed him the work, and he began whatever he was doing. Soon, the package arrived. I put it in a safe place and resumed watching "Top Gear". Minutes later, the plumber told me he was leaving, and that another plumber was coming to finish. I was in no position to argue, since recently any talk of the house puts me into a drooling, catatonic state. No sooner had he left than I saw a Crown Vic creeping up the road, stopping in front of the house next door, but no one exiting the vehicle. I pushed thoughts of impending drive-by out of my mind as: a) This car was not actually driving by anything, and b) it appeared to be an old lady car. My theory was soon proved correct, as the car rolled slowly until it was directly in front of my house, and a bluehair got out and started walking up the steps. Melanie asked who it was, and assured her that I didn't know, but would be sure to thwart any attempts at home invasion on her part. Apparently, the woman (we'll call her "Miss Mary", because that is her name, owns the house two doors down, and was evicting the current tennant and apparently installing a new one, whose safety she was so concerned with as to drive menacingly up the street and inform possible rapists where said tennant worked, what she looked like, and when she was moving in. This woman was also racist in the blatant and matter-of-fact way that only old people seem to be able to get away with. I assured her we would be looking forward to seeing her in the future, and bade her goodbye. Not five minutes later, an even older gentleman climbed the steps and knocked on my door, also unexpectedly. He had very few teeth and had been drinking a bit (I'm not judging, I've been drunk at 10:30am as well). His name is Ernie, and he lives across the street a few houses over. He has lived here since 1955. His wife died four months ago, and he now just sits on his porch. His neighbors bring him food and take care of him. In more than 53 years here, he said, he had never had a key to his front door. I was delighted with this visit. He also said to pay Miss Mary no mind (I was way ahead of Ernie on this one.). Here was my chance to learn some of the boring suburban history behind my first house! Unfortunately, our visit was cut short when a duallie pulled a trailer up in front of the house and disgorged five dudes who decided to put a new roof on the carport.
The rest of the day was spent trying to ignore the hellacious noise and smells from the construction going on. In the back of my mind, though, I tempered my anger at having my day of rest disturbed with the thought of myself sitting on the porch in 2068 and telling the new neighbors a few things about the neighborhood.

2008-09-15T16:55:00.003-04:00

I should post something heartfelt about David Foster Wallace's suicide.* So, here it is:
It makes me really, really sad. That's it. Not despair or anything, but definitely the saddest it has felt for any celebrity death. I'll never get to read any more new books by him. And I'll never get to read the old ones without thinking of them differently. Ultimately, as usual, self-pity is my real driving emotion here.

*Blogger wo't let me do footnones, so this is the little in joke for anyone who's read him.

2008-09-03T15:40:00.002-04:00

You know who is a good grout layer? Not me! I am incapable of working with goo. Any kind of goo-like substance just mocks my otherwise sterling manual dexterity. Bondo. Sheetrock mud. Peanut butter. Spackle. And now gout. An ugly name for an ugly project.

2008-08-19T13:18:00.002-04:00

My father came by to have lunch last week, and to see the new house. He also bought us a lawnmower, which was very sweet, and much needed. He also gave me a box of stuff that was labled "chris' garbage". As I was putting away the lawnmower yesterday, I opened it and inventoried it a bit. Turns out, it was full of my garbage. Contents including:

A de-milled hand grenade. Useful.
Random baseball cards from the early '80s. 1982 Topps Robin Yount, anyone?
Many, many cards from many, many relatives. No money overlooked, though.
A large collection of notes from my high school girlfriend. Awww.
A picture of my high school marching band. Taken from my father's airplane. See, not even my own personal aerial photog could make me cool.
A worn out wrist pin from the first motor I ever rebuilt, on the first car I ever owned.
A rant, ostensibly authored by me, about how no one would ever understand me. Gosh, 17-year-old Chris, please tell us all about your emotions. Geez, what a prick I was.

2008-08-06T03:55:00.002-04:00

It's 0400 EDT, and I can't sleep. Took the redeye out of Vegas, got in to KSAV around 9, went to sleep immediately. Now my sleep schedule is all fucked up. The trip was fun. Saw Batman (in IMAX), Penn & Teller, and a bunch of roller derby freaks. Drank something called "Ass Juice". Won some money at video poker. Lost some money at craps. You know, the usual Vegas experience.
Really, though, I attended a few seminars, and I think I learned some things that will really help the other referees and me to improve the officiating at our bouts. I hope.
I really need to sleep. Tomorrow I have to do something about the lawn here at the rental. Josh took his lawnmower, and the place looks like a jungle already. I guess I will try and find a used mower, since I'll need one for the new house anyway. Speaking of it, maybe I'll head over there tomorrow and bask in its glory. And pull up some carpet. I also need to order some stuff for this damned motorcycle. Simple little things like circlips and fork balance tubes have hung me up longer than they should have. I hope everyone else is getting some rest, because I'm not.

2008-07-31T13:42:00.003-04:00

I'm writing this from the fabulous Imperial Palace Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas. Woo.

Closing went off without a hitch. Easiest thing I've ever done. Thanks to everyone for their support.

The flight here was the one of the most painful experiences of my life. Due continuing sinus problems, my left ear would not equalize pressure properly, reslting in near-paralyzing pain for almost four hours. Yes, I know all the little tricks for getting ears to pop. No, they didn't work. Trust me, I've been flying for thirty years. When we got here, Mel revved up and went gambling, I had a few drinks and collapsed in a coma while the overly loud band at Harrah's outside bar played "Rock You Like A Hurricane" until 0300 or so. This year's Rollercon is shaping up to be less entertaining than last years, or maybe I just need to change my attitude.

In other news, what do you call someone who dosen't write or call his best friend or six months, and misses his birthday? A bad friend. Or Chris. Same thing.
I'm sorry, b. I'll call you when I get home.

2008-07-23T11:59:00.002-04:00

Sick again. Motherfucker.

Here's a fun story:
I hate going to the doctor. Really, really, hate it. I don't have a phobia or anything; I just don't like waiting around for a ridiculously long time before a doctor comes in and asks me a few somewhat random questions, nods solemnly, and says "It's a virus. You should feel better in a week. But if you don't, then it's bacterial, and we'll start you on antibiotics."
Well, thanks for that. It's good to know that I'll only be sidelined for two or three weeks, max. For what is essentially a cold. And then I'll get to deal with the insurance company. What a colossal waste of time.

2008-07-16T22:33:00.002-04:00

Today at the local sports-themed haircut place (just shut up, they do an acceptable job), I was watching one of the many, many television sets as a bored employee flipped through the channels. She paused for just a second at a bold-looking title screen that read:
"World Cup of Poo"
...or so I thought. As it turns out, the oblique viewing angle I was at cut off the ending "L" from my perspective. How long did I have to think about this before I figured it out? Pretty damned long. No man should have to sit in a barber chair for ten minutes thinking that there is such a sporting event on cable t.v.

2008-07-08T16:20:00.002-04:00

This might be the worst possible time to be sick. I don't know when the best time to be sick is, but I do know that is not when you need to be setting up home inspections, termite inspections, dropping off papers to your lender, going to roller derby practice and band practice. Am I pathetic? Yes I am.

2008-07-05T15:00:00.004-04:00

Yeah, so, I was at a party the other day and someone mentioned that a mutual friend had a great blog, and then we talked about blogging, and I thought of this thing, all covered in dust, hungry and cold, scared and alone in the dark corners of the web, waiting for me to post some random, poorly-written trivia about my life. So here I am, nourishing my blog, spurred on not by pride, but out of a nagging feeling that these little electrons may well be the only mark I leave on earth.

Also, I am buying house. Right now I'm basking in the warm and fuzzy feeling of accomplishment that I get from having come from the very brink of financial ruin five years ago to soon-to-be homeowner. It is true that the lion's share of the work to make me into a responsible human was done by Mel, but I'm proud anyway. I close on the 29th.

Oh, and the roommate I mentioned in the last post has been the greatest roomate ever, despite his lack of doing dishes and his obsession with World of Warcraft. It's been a great time, Josh, and we'll miss you. And your unicorn.

2007-01-04T22:03:00.000-05:00

Bless me, blogger, for I have sinned. It has been about four months since my last confession. Paying rent and a mortgage sucks. Hopefully someone will rent out our condo soon. I'm going to midnight shift for the phat-ass shift differential. We're taking a roommate. He's in the Army and just got back from his first tour in Iraq. Our mutual friend is there right now. Our computer hard drive took a shit last week, so we bought a new laptop. Goodbye, all of our mp3s and photos. Missed most: pic of my favorite hot girlfriend with my favorite hot bartender; pic of B holding a can of PBR like he's endorsing it; mp3 of Little River Band's "Reminiscing". My parents are psychotic. Maybe more later.

2006-10-03T04:12:00.000-04:00

It's Savannah. I start with my new employer on 10/16/2006. I am fucking terrified.

Now, those of you that know me may be thinking: "Chris may be unable to pay bills/taxes/traffic tickets/whatever on time, lives in constant fear of many, many things, and doesn't bathe regularly/punched me in the face that one time/broke my heart/stole my car/still owes me ten bucks/called me an asshole, but he usually has his shit together when he's turning wrenches."

You'd be right. However, it's not the job I'm worried about. It's this damned house. Here's a scene from two years ago:

Me: "You know, honey, since we're planning on staying for a while, we should stop paying rent and get in on some of this gi-friggin-gantic Northern Virginia real estate boom, you know?"
Her: "That's retarded. Do you have (a very, very large number of dollars) to buy a house with?"
Me: "No, but we could save a little, and they have these creatively structured mortgages now that allow first-time home buyers like us to afford places."
Her: "Well, I don't really want to get something expensive. Let's just buy the cheapest place available that dosen't have an ongoing tuberculosis outbreak in it, and see how that goes. Let us call a real estate agent."
Real Estate Agent: "Did someone call me?"
Us (in unison): "We'd like to buy a tidy and inexpensive apartment. We would prefer it to not smell like dog, curry, or gunpowder. Actually, it should not smell like anything."
R.E.A.: "Here are several to choose from."
Us: "We'll take the least expensive."
R.E.A. "That will be (a number of dollars which I had previously thought to be made up; something like "eleventy billion" or "infinity time infinity"). See you later."
Me: "What a beautiful home we've made, darling. I hope a combination of economic factors, job dissatisfaction, and personal distaste for the Mid-Atlantic region in general don't come together to screw us later on."
(Ominous music swells)

I want a do-over. I feel like a complete moron. I've finally been trained to start acting more or less like an adult, and I completely fuck up the one big decision that I lobbied so hard for. Yay for me.

2006-08-29T23:13:00.000-04:00

Must be time to post again.

Item: Looking for a new job/venue
Status: Ongoing
Details: Interview next week for Gulfstream in Savannah (Pros- Large, well-run company. Good products. Near the beach. Cheap. Closer to friends/family. Cons- No nearby schools for Mel. Hot. Closer to family.)
Chicago station opening up (Pros- Post is with current employer. Schools available for Mel. Cheaper than D.C. Living near some cool stuff would be a good change. Cons- Don't know anyone there. Cold in winter. Work may suck ass. )
Plenty of work in Greensboro (Pros- Cheap. Some friends live there. Cons- No schools for Mel. Not near anything. Work may suck ass.)

Item: Installing A/C on the Miata
Status: Ongoing
Details: Vagaries of metric standard hardware initially impeded progress. Now need condenser fan. Suck.

Item: Getting rid of the Acura
Status: Under Consideration
Details: Initial problems (No goddamned ipod adapter on a car manufactured in 2006? Screw you.) overcome by installing new headunit (Thanks, Mel!). It is now the perfect car. Except for the payment.

Item: Selling the House
Status: Terrifying
Details: I don't even want to discuss how this might screw us for the next thirty years.

Item: Trip to ATL
Status: Under Consideration
Details: Maybe for my birthday.

2006-07-27T22:57:00.000-04:00

"Let's go out and buy a statistically average meal from a large multinational restaurant chain. That usually fixes about seventy-five percent of life's problems."

I never know when the newest Douglas Coupland book is coming out. Actually that's not true: the newest book comes out after I stop checking to see when the newest book comes out. It usually comes out about a week before I wander into a bookshop and randomly look in the "C" section. The only exception to this is when I sent Mel transatlantic to get me a copy of Eleanor Rigby, because it wasn't scheduled to come out soon anywhere around here.

2006-07-20T00:21:00.000-04:00

See you in hell, 2001 and 2002 tax seasons!

A crushing burden has finally been lifted, and it would not be possible without the help of my lovely girlfriend.

If we move to Savannah, will any of you visit us?

2006-07-14T11:51:00.000-04:00

A dream of mine:

That Guy vs. That Other Guy

Brought to you courtesy of my having watched Lebowski last night and Batman today.

P.S.- Dear Christopher Nolan: Alfred the Butler is supposed to speak in Recieved Pronunciation. I love Michael Caine too, but he's strictly working-class in the accent department.

2006-07-12T05:34:00.000-04:00

My friend and collague, DF, while listening to Aldo Nova's Fantasy:
"When I was twelve, I thought nothing could ever be more metal than this song. Maybe some sort of song written by robots. Robots with laser guitars. But this song already kind of sounds like that, so I guess I was right in the first place."

I am honored to work with the finest.

Also, [belated] birthday wishes to my [slightly-older-than-me-but-much-much-cooler] main man, b!

2006-06-26T02:51:00.000-04:00

I only ever think of this thing when I'm reading other people's (vastly cooler)writings. Then I sometimes click on the link to see if I wrote anything. I didn't.

Wednesday, 0530 local- Body temperature: 100.1F, chowing down on a delicious salad at Amphora Diner. Feeling euphoric for having snuck out of work early. Knowing sickness is imminent. Not caring.

Wednesday, 1520 local- Body temperature: 101.2F, calling in sick to work. Driving to the doctor, knowing that diagnosis will surely be H5N1 strain of influenza. Thinking of how much gravity that will lend to blogging and general demeanor.

Thursday, 0230 local- Body temperature: unknown, weeping with pride in having set personal best by coughing uninterrupted for past fifteen hours. Without inhaling.

Thursday, 0550 local- Body temperature: 312K, mentally composing vicious rant about total inadequacy of alleged "cough supressant" products offered by modern medicine.

Thursday, 0640 local- Body temperature: Spicy Cajun, rant now includes scathing indictment of entire heathcare and pharmaceutical industries. Contains allusions to Restless Leg Syndrome (...my leg is restless to head straight up all their asses!) and Viagra (...some fat, pasty, millionaire in his erect-penis-shaped pool diverting cough-supressant research dollars into boners for Social Security recipients.).

Thursday, 0900 local- Body temperature: not funny anymore, girlfriend employed in healthcare industry offers comfort, drugs. Rant scrapped as juvenile, nonsensical. Blessed sleep.

Thursday, 1300 local- Commence Chapter 1134 of "Shogun". Another first: enough pills to actually fill stomach! No room or desire to eat other meals today!

Friday, more of the same...

Friday, 2130 local- unveiling of new Mel hairstyle. Fetching. Actually, pretty damned sexy. Temporarily forget about badger in chest gnawing on lungs.

Saturday, 1300 local- against better judgement, attend local beer festival with locals. Imbibe.

Saturday, 1430 local- monsoon season begins. Search in vain for shelter for new $500 digital camera. Endure endless witticisms concerning shirt color and desire for female companinons to have worn instead. Imbibe.

Saturday, 1800 local- aimlessly noodle on guitar while naked and semi-dressed women meander around condo.

Saturday, 2100 local- eat Mexican food while being entertained by band whose singer sounds disturbingly like Natalie Merchant.

Sunday, 1300 local- back to work

Monday, 0230 local- decide to compose rambling, disjointed, poorly written post due to lack of broken aircraft, reading material, and nocturnal associates.

2006-05-29T01:40:00.000-04:00

Advanced Global Personality Test Results

Extraversion		63%
Stability		40%
Orderliness		46%
Accommodation		36%
Interdependence		76%
Intellectual		76%
Mystical		23%
Artistic		43%
Religious		10%
Hedonism		76%
Materialism		36%
Narcissism		56%
Adventurousness		56%
Work ethic		63%
Self absorbed		30%
Conflict seeking		43%
Need to dominate		50%

Romantic		63%
Avoidant		16%
Anti-authority		36%
Wealth		30%
Dependency		36%
Change averse		23%
Cautiousness		50%
Individuality		36%
Sexuality		90%
Peter pan complex		43%
Physical security		83%
Physical Fitness		17%
Histrionic		23%
Paranoia		30%
Vanity		43%
Hypersensitivity		70%
Female cliche		16%

Take Free Advanced Global Personality Test
personality tests by similarminds.com

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I am waiting for parts for a thrust reverser.

2006-04-11T01:53:00.000-04:00

nor do I understand why you would want to waste the time and money rounding up eleven million people who obviously want to be here quite badly.
I work with a guy named John. He's retired from the British Navy, and retired from United Airlines. Imagine that. Two fucking pensions. I wonder what I'll get when I retire.
"I worked my ass off for thirty years and all I got was this stupid fucking t-shirt."

2005-11-07T05:23:00.000-05:00

We spend money like it might suddenly rot. At the Tyson's Corners mall, my tired mind alternated between "What an orgy of consumerism!" and "This bird flu will certainly kill us all."
I was sure the index case was lurking around somewhere. At least the new car and flat panel t.v. will keep us numb until we die, raving feverishly and shitting out our own intestines. Also, she got a lovely cashmere sweater.

About an hour ago, my boss' boss walked in and informed me that the new office at DCA would need parts. Imagine that. An aircraft maintenance facility might need to stock aircraft parts. He also informed me that he didn't know what parts to get, or how to get them there, or how to account for the inventory. (That darn F.A.A. is so picky about aircraft parts and their whereabouts.) He decidied that at 0300, I should drop what I was doing and get him a nice, well-planned inventory in a tidy box for this station that opens Wednesday. I don't want to whine, but everyone has known that we were opening a station for six months now. Additionally, at least three people are on the totem pole above me, and jobs like this are squarely in their purview. They are specifically not in mine. So fuck them in the ass with a pointed stick.
(I'll probably do it, but I'd better get another fat raise.)

2005-10-26T03:26:00.001-04:00

Tonight I browsed through some old pictures in my phone. I like this one, but it makes feel guilty because I haven't talked to this guy in a while. I guess that's easy enough to remedy.

My car is fucked up. I do not look forward to tearing it apart tomorrow. Which is why I've been glomming rides off co-workers and friends for two weeks.

Motorcycle or expensive symbolic jewelry? The decision has been made...

Gas station food for dinner every night: I love taquitos and Icees.
Gas station food for dinner every night: My stomach hurts as if I have been bayonetted.

I am proud to work for a Canadian company. As soon as I learn French, I'm moving to Montreal.

2005-10-08T22:46:00.000-04:00

Hello, blog. I would say that I've missed you, but we both know that that would be a lie. I've been so busy, but for some reason, I feel guilty about offering the details to you as a consolation prize.
I can tell you that West Virginia is pretty around this time of year, and you'd have to believe me.
I might mention that I now know a bit more about a certain airplane, and quite a lot more about inter-company politics, and you couldn't question me.
My eight-ball game is absolutely ripping. You can't deny it.
I am a year older. My car is broken. We are buying a garage. M- started a new job, and will soon be traveling to it in a brand-new car. My parents are divorced. My father is basically unemployed. My brother is building an airplane. One of my best friends is getting married soon. My ten-year high school reunion is being planned as we speak.
These are facts. But they won't console you in my absence. You want to know how I feel.
I am alternately elated and apprehensive.
But mostly, I feel fine.

2005-08-28T21:40:00.000-04:00

Highlights for the week include: her return to the states, and more importantly, our home; time spent together; meals enjoyed; my first trip to Atlantic City; her miraculous repair of my ipod.
The blooper reel for the week includes: indigestion; losing money in Atlantic City (okay, I kind of expected that); ipod malfunction.

Really, it's a resounding victory for the "pros", and an utterly humiliating defeat for the "cons". Take that, you stupid cons!

2005-08-22T04:05:00.000-04:00

She comes home tomorrow. Actually she comes home later today. I let the robot vacuum the floors when I left for work, put the sheets in the dryer, and generally tried to not mess the place up too bad. I think I feel a fake cold coming on for Tuesday night.

Friday night- after cleaning the house all day, friends from work came over to play some Madden 2006. For twelve and a half hours. It was fun, though. We drunkenly destroyed the living room and kitchen that I'd lovingly prepared for my beloved's return. I even put the PS2 on-line and we took turns playing random 14 year olds from New Jersey, while the non-playing two of us took turns talking trash on the headset. A good, but extremely dorky, time was had by all.

Someone has told me that the new Bret Easton Ellis novel is good. I really respect this person's opinion, so I guess I'll buy it. I only wrote this as a reminder to myself. Now I just need to put a reminder to blog in my refrigirator, and a reminder to buy groceries in my car, and I'll be a functioning member of society.

2005-08-16T02:49:00.000-04:00

The ever-increasing awkwardness and tension around certain members of my family put a damper on my visit, but Saturday night more than made up for it.
Something as common as "drinks at the Gravity" shouldn't really be able to change your outlook on life, and it didn't. But drinks at the Gravity with a certain few people seems to have done it. I don't think I can express how much these people mean to me, and how happy I felt there.
I miss all of you guys, and thank you for making me feel so good.

2005-08-08T22:46:00.000-04:00

Well, she's off to the Continent, and I am alone. Utterly alone. I must dedicate this time to good, and not evil. Although I think I should be allowed to partake in some evil when I'm in the ATL this weekend.
Then, in short order: back to work, clean the house, paint the living room (my own little While You Were Out-style presentation), water plants, ensure continuing life functions of cat, put away approximately a shitload of books that I'll ship to myself from Georgia, call cousin, plan trip to Atlantic City.
No sweat.

2005-08-03T20:30:00.000-04:00

A spaceship is here. I missed it flying in, but it is over at the museum now. I will be going to see it soon. Very soon.

2005-07-31T20:56:00.000-04:00

Not much going on. I did take my FCC General Radiotelephone Operator's License test on Thursday. A tip: the name of the mechanically rotatable variable RF transformer device of a Very High Frequency Omnidirectional Range (VOR) station that is used to generate the amplitude modulated variable phase signal used in aircraft navigation is a goniometer. Not a gorgonzolameter, which is what was highlighted as the correct answer in one of the study guides we used.
Clearly, the gorgonzolameter is far beyond our earthly technology, and not part of the terrestrial purview of the FCC. I imagine it works somewhat like a nose, but with more beeping. And acronyms.

2005-07-24T20:38:00.000-04:00

Last night:
Fun times with B- and J-, this summer's must-see duo. And Mel and I are responsible for their meeting! What is is about matchmaking that is so satisfactory? Also, finally decided, once and for all, that the best thirst-quenching summertime brew is PBR. No further research or discussion is required. This hangover is a mother, though.
One note- if you are playing acoustic instruments, then there is no need to amplify them to glass-shattering levels. Especially in a smallish bar with an audience of approximately three people. I mean, if the fucking Who was in there, playing My Generation at stratospheric decibel levels, well, that's one thing. But you, sir, are no Pete Townshend. And no one should have blood coming out of their ears after a rendition of Michael Rowed the Boat Ashore.

2005-07-21T02:45:00.000-04:00

He stood on the shoulders of other great engineers of his homeland. Men like James Watt, John McAdam, and James Dewar. He attended the Academy, but left midway to find his true calling, and after a few brief stints on lesser vessels, became Chief Engineer on the most distinguished ship in the fleet...NCC-1701.
I always knew Scotty was the baddest ass on the ship. I could tell he was my father's favorite, too, and as shared admirations go, we could have done worse. Sure, Kirk got to boss everyone around and always got the alien poontang. Sure, Spock was probably smarter, Sulu got to drive, Checkhov got to shoot, and Bones....well, Bones didn't really have anything cool to do. But these guys were all lightweights. Monty Scott could pull warp 9.5 out of the cores designed for a measly warp 8. Scotty could drink 'em all under the table. Jefferies tube clogged? Scotty is on the motherfucker. Eight to beam up, you say? And you're under fire and can't hold still? This kilt-wearing bastard has got that shit.
Really, who else would you want on your away team? Sulu? Please.
So, this man, who had a small but definite impact on my choice of career, is gone. Maybe there is an Elysian Fields somewhere for engineers and mechanics, and if there is, I hope he's there. He will be missed.
James Doohan 1920-2005

2005-07-17T14:16:00.000-04:00

I don't know which is worse- wanting to eat because I'm bored, or being too lazy to go out and get some damn food.
I am a lost cause.

If the Northwest Airlines mechanics strike, they'll be crushed. This will probably be the end of organized labor as a force in the airline industry. I mean, the company already has scabs on the payroll. And, if that's not enough, there are plenty of mechanics from Delta and United that have been laid off, are consequently disgusted with unions, and will cross that picket line without looking over their shoulders.
My father is supposed to retire in November. He is possibly the unluckiest man I've ever met.

2005-07-14T18:24:00.000-04:00

Last night: a jaunt with someone I didn't know very well to a place I've never been. Vague enough? The person is a friend of my significant other, who I was charged with entertaining while Her Majesty planned her forthcoming Trip to Europe. The place was the "Laughing Lizard Lounge" in Alexandria. It was like a speakeasy. They hadn't done much to strip the place of its essential "house-ness", so it was kind of like playing pool and drinking at a frat party, although with only a fraction of the hysterical sorority girls on hand.
Also, they had PBR. So today I'm hung over.

2005-07-12T08:06:00.000-04:00

After a year at this job, I've realized that there are two speeds, slow and utter chaos. Since I'm wasting time here, guess which one tonight was. I just woke up from my nap.
I love this job.
Unfortunately, with all the free time, I tend to get involved in side projects. Like this evening, when I determined that at my current level of retirement contribution, with a desired retirement income of 70k, I can retire in 82 years. On the plus side, I'm sure that the Social Security retirement age will be set at 110 by then, so I'll only have a year to wait.