tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30928592024-03-07T16:48:46.229-08:00My Life as an American GladiatorProbably unwisekafkaesquehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17636509807187790810noreply@blogger.comBlogger862125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3092859.post-9156536341196853072018-07-13T13:43:00.000-07:002018-08-08T12:19:36.349-07:00BOPIn what seemed like a charming and really good idea at the time, some months ago I bought tickets for myself, my wife, and nine year-old daughter to see KIDZ BOP in concert. And what then seemed like a far off event is now tomorrow.
This is not my daughter's first concert, though. A couple of years ago she was visiting a family member with my wife and there just happened to be a Brian Setzer kafkaesquehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17636509807187790810noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3092859.post-51756095967292213062018-05-30T13:04:00.000-07:002018-09-26T12:58:12.377-07:00Personal Deep Cleansing
I had my 6-monthly dental visit a few days ago. Every time I go to the dentist is a little bit of a gamble. If I get a certain hygienist performing my cleaning, I am golden--she has a bit of a scrape, sure, as hygienists are wont to do, but she lauds me with effusive praise about my very clean teeth, and mostly uses a light touch. Some of the other hygienists vary in their enthusiasm and can I kafkaesquehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17636509807187790810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3092859.post-20931302530058639862018-05-04T11:24:00.001-07:002018-05-07T12:43:09.741-07:00Life GoalsWhoa hey! Did I forget this site again?
Luckily for you I have news. I have decided that, since I am 46 years old, it's time for an affectation. But I'm trying to decide what kind of affectation would really suit me.... would really make my wife and daughter super embarrassed to be seen with me in public. So it can't be your run-of-the-mill hipster mustache or Grizzly Adams style beard (partly kafkaesquehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17636509807187790810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3092859.post-8120042930755842252018-01-25T17:37:00.000-08:002018-01-25T17:37:22.255-08:00The Flicking of the FleasI was watching the NFL playoff games last weekend, because I am a virile American. I had no rooting interest in any of the teams, although I preferred two of the four, both of which predictably lost.
I am not going to chime in with my hot takes about why football is terrible, what with the traumatic brain injuries and enforced patriotism and institutionalized racism. Yes. I know. You can tell I kafkaesquehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17636509807187790810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3092859.post-65328118736382065722018-01-19T13:31:00.000-08:002018-01-24T18:01:28.119-08:00Self-Evident TruthSome months ago, for reasons that are unclear to me, I signed up for Quora. And every day I get emails with subject lines like "Was Hitler so bad?", "Why is Google not hiring me despite my Mensa membership?", and "Does this flight attendant/barrista think I am the sexiest or merely super sexy?"
And yes, these are terrible and dull questions asked mainly by terrible dullards.
But today, all the kafkaesquehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17636509807187790810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3092859.post-17195200735357805322017-12-01T13:06:00.003-08:002017-12-01T13:06:39.192-08:00CheezyCHEEZ-IT tweeted for the first time in a while.
This is where we are as a culture. CHEEZ-IT tweets. And don't get me wrong. I had to actually follow CHEEZ-IT on twitter to get notified of this crucial news. And I may or may not have envisioned an anthropomorphic CHEEZ-IT hunched over a tiny keyboard, groaning its demands to an uncaring world. Through its CHEEZ-IT mouth. Isn't that what the kafkaesquehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17636509807187790810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3092859.post-51744454849545155402017-11-17T16:07:00.001-08:002017-11-17T16:07:44.868-08:00A Few Things
While walking to school this morning, I had The Talk with my daughter. You know, the one about refraction of light, the light spectrum in general, and the non-visible band. She took it pretty well. Although I wonder if there's a name for the momentary panic you feel when you realize you may not actually be right about things you are telling your 8 year old.
I listen to podcasts quite a bit. kafkaesquehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17636509807187790810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3092859.post-90416976910407447202017-10-27T14:51:00.001-07:002017-10-27T14:51:14.501-07:00DID YOU KNOW STRANGER THINGS 2 IS ON NETFLIX?!Huh? Did you? Did you? Would you like to be reminded STRANGER THINGS 2 IS ON NETFLIX on every device you own? YES YOU WANT THAT. You want your Internet of Things connected thermostat to tell you STRANGER THINGS 2 IS ON NETFLIX, first as a whisper, but gradually building to an alarming shriek STRANGER THINGS 2 IS ON NETFLIX YOU IDIOT GO WATCH IT NOW.
Every 10 steps your fitbit should scream kafkaesquehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17636509807187790810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3092859.post-60045773836973692472017-09-21T15:33:00.000-07:002017-09-21T15:33:49.477-07:00CORPSETHUMBWe use HipChat at work, which is sadly not as hip as Slack. Although it is made by Atlassian, and they are an Australian company, and marsupials are pretty hip (except the very unhip echidna--get it together, echidna). If you want to appear edgy and kicky and down with the kids, you can use these curious image things called emojis in your chats to your coworkers. Weird, I know, but stay with me kafkaesquehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17636509807187790810noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3092859.post-17651201119888562792017-08-31T15:32:00.002-07:002017-08-31T15:32:49.739-07:00Monthly JerkI once bought my friend Chimmychanga a subscription to the Jerky of the Month Club. I think it was about 8 years ago. And I still hear from The Jerky People regularly. I kind of like it. Tell me of your dried meats.
Look, it's jerky. Jerky is fantastic and beyond reproach. But I don't want to get jerky in the mail. I generally don't want any food in the mail. I mean who knows what Harry and kafkaesquehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17636509807187790810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3092859.post-61967091235868032292017-08-04T14:36:00.000-07:002017-08-04T14:36:04.403-07:00I look like a frankensteinI just thought everyone should know that I look like a frankenstein.
What happened was that I knocked heads with a coworker while playing basketball the other day. The top of his head hit me just under the eyebrow. That sounds a little passive-voice though. It's not like his head detached and zoomed into my eye like the last desperate gasp of Voltron, or like the Hellboy story Heads where a kafkaesquehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17636509807187790810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3092859.post-42875104221528904422017-07-07T13:36:00.001-07:002017-07-07T14:41:44.042-07:00A List of IdeasI feel like I used to have a lot of great ideas. When I look at my notes now, I am not impressed.
In no particular order:
Last Supper replica with characters from Popeye replacing all the disciples.
A tiny drone that cuts your hair/gets your hair caught in its propellers.
Bananas, but smaller.
Sentient cling wrap (or cling wrap that is willing to admit it has always been sentient.)
New monster kafkaesquehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17636509807187790810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3092859.post-26404686968310181112017-06-23T14:17:00.000-07:002017-06-23T14:18:05.616-07:00Some Great RewardI have a vague notion that I should not participate in rewards clubs at stores. They will get my information! They will harvest me and sell me! I will become a cog in a meaningless machine--well, more of a cog than I already am. I will be only my data, my likes and dislikes. My shoe size and proclivities. My preference for romaine over iceberg. And my open contempt for savoy cabbage.
So I don't kafkaesquehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17636509807187790810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3092859.post-84682702918589361222017-06-05T17:19:00.000-07:002017-06-05T17:19:06.790-07:00four-foot tall rastafarian-themed bananaI felt that my daughter just hadn't spent enough time around carnies in her young life, so to remedy that situation, we took her to a carnival this weekend. The type of carnival that springs up in a parking lot this time of year. Possibly I had forgotten this, but it turns out carnivals are incredibly expensive. This one had tickets for a dollar each, and one ride on the ferris wheel was five kafkaesquehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17636509807187790810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3092859.post-68330135265663353932017-05-31T13:07:00.000-07:002017-07-07T13:37:53.719-07:00The Crushing Weight of the TruthI participate in a trivia league. It's fairly well-known. You participate in a match each day of the season--answering questions and ascribing points to each answer, competing against another nerdo like you, in a a series of ranked divisions. Like English soccer leagues, there are promotion and relegation between divisions.
While this is truly a great way of making matches competitive, it also kafkaesquehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17636509807187790810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3092859.post-25269840851454566372017-05-15T17:40:00.002-07:002017-05-15T17:43:23.145-07:00Owl DreamLast night I had a dream that there was an owl in the house. If you're like me, you probably have a couple of thoughts when you hear that someone dreamed about an owl.
First, alien abduction. That's just a given. You dream about an owl, that means you had a bunch of jerks from Alpha Centauri messing with you all night and you wake up thinking about an owl because it's a cover memory they left kafkaesquehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17636509807187790810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3092859.post-28294240243628184022017-04-21T10:18:00.000-07:002017-04-21T10:18:46.758-07:00The MergeI am a dad, so I think about certain things a lot. Elvis Costello. Cargo shorts. And merging.
Merging is fraught with peril, as we all know. You're counting on someone to do the right thing, to uphold the social contract. And yet, so often, some filthy youngster breaks that contract--the very thread that holds our fragile society together--and fucks it up for everyone.
But I want to tell you, kafkaesquehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17636509807187790810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3092859.post-37897041465456115022017-04-07T13:11:00.002-07:002017-04-07T13:12:36.776-07:00Better OffA couple of weeks ago, I went skiing for the first time in a while. Let's be generous here and say 28 years. The last time I had been before that, I was about 16 years old, and I managed to knock myself unconscious and had to be pulled down the mountain on one of those little ski-patrol sleds with a severe concussion. It was not like the movie Hot Dog: The Movie at all. More like that movie kafkaesquehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17636509807187790810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3092859.post-90245059317869589442017-03-20T16:30:00.000-07:002017-03-20T16:42:06.298-07:00Various Weird ThingsI've always liked the supernatural. And when things get really terrible, these things become very appealing to me. I'm not talking about those jerks who go wandering around old mental hospitals at night with sweet night vision gear--no I'm talking about happy enclaves of believers like on the Fortean Times forums. I can easily lose several hours in the It Happened to Me forum, reading about such kafkaesquehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17636509807187790810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3092859.post-14264425382939522832017-03-14T10:59:00.000-07:002017-03-14T10:59:08.426-07:00Fruit DystopiaLook, I am not saying genetic engineering is a great idea. I'm not not saying it either--I wouldn't be adverse to a few extra appendages or mystifying superpowers. Of course not.
What I am saying is that there are 21 seeds in this honey tangerine. Twenty-one! It's demonic.
I would be willing to settle for 4, maybe 5 seeds in this delectable citrus treat. 10 is the absolute maximum. But kafkaesquehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17636509807187790810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3092859.post-17268418962863650972017-03-08T17:57:00.001-08:002017-03-08T17:57:06.721-08:00Tales of AdventureDid you think I was gone again? I know, I have disappeared for years at a time in the past, and you wondered Where did he go, this gentle superman? Was he ever here at all--was he in fact just a fever dream I had one day because I ate something unspeakable from the back of the fridge?
But not this time. I return to you after mere weeks away, with tales of adventure.
What happened was I went to kafkaesquehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17636509807187790810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3092859.post-45471075397390307622017-02-21T12:56:00.003-08:002017-02-21T12:57:51.330-08:00Alternator FactsUpdate: I did not maim and/or kill myself fixing my dishwasher and now I wander around the house telling my wife about the other things in the house that I could probably fix. Of course, I have no intention of actually doing any of those things, and my success with stunningly simple dishwasher was followed almost immediately by almost setting the house on fire with the toaster.
No, this kafkaesquehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17636509807187790810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3092859.post-8138158340786844482017-02-09T13:17:00.001-08:002017-02-09T13:17:20.790-08:00Expert PlansI just want to warn you, I may be attempting to fix my dishwasher this weekend. It is easy. I have watched one video on YouTube and if a guy who had his thumb over the camera a good 60% of the video's runtime can do it, I can do it, by god!
What's wrong with the dishwasher is that a whole lot of water comes out of the airgap. I only know it is called an airgap because my sister told me about a kafkaesquehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17636509807187790810noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3092859.post-27753251743328701272017-02-01T13:13:00.001-08:002017-02-01T13:13:19.377-08:00ProfessionalismSometimes I question my career choice.
Then, of course, I remember I didn't really choose it at all. It just kind of happened. When you have a degree in something spectacularly useful, like my Modern Literature degree, you can pretty much pick your path to financial success--it's true. But somehow I just found myself as a technical writer some twenty-five years ago, despite the fact that I kafkaesquehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17636509807187790810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3092859.post-1574046037153657022017-01-23T17:31:00.000-08:002017-01-23T17:31:00.654-08:00Terrible Food DaySo, I thought it would be a good idea to have Terrible Food Day for my daughter (and, by extension, me). My wife is always buying these healthy things with buckwheat and chia and tiny rocks, and while I appreciate her earnest healthward leanings, I recognize that when you are seven years old, tofu and gravelly grain is not the most appealing.
I started talking about TV dinners to my daughter. kafkaesquehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17636509807187790810noreply@blogger.com0