• Happiness Through Quackery

    Not that I mind a good quack from time to time, but there are quacks out there who give quacking a bad name. At least they can provide us some amusement on occasion, though…

    By following the simple advice I heard on a Dr. Phil’s show, I have finally found inner peace. Dr. Phil proclaimed the way to achieve inner peace is to finish all the things you have started. So I looked around my house to see which things I have started and hadn’t finished; and, before leaving the house this morning, I finished off a bottle of Merlot, a bottle of Cardonay, a bole of Baileys, a butle of Kehuha, a pockage of Tim Toms, tha mainder of my Prozic and Valum scriptins, the res of the Chesescke, some cofee an a baxa cholates. Yu haf no idr who gud I fel.

    (From: James Randi’s Swift, Feb 23 2007)

  • Money changes everything. Or maybe just something.

    While it’s true that money can’t buy happiness, and there are problems for which the best solution may not be the application of wads of cash, I still feel better knowing that federal tax refunds landed in a couple of specific bank accounts this morning.

    My weekend will still be busy, but at least it won’t suck quite so much due to lack-of-funds like my weekends tend to do.

    Now I just need my new computer to get here already. Oh, and my birthday vacation, too. And… well, never you mind what else I need.

  • What would have been the fifteenth.

    Fifteen years ago today, I went and got married. (A few years ago, of course, I got unmarried.)

    To commemorate the occasion, my ex-wife gave me a big bundle of stress to deal with this week. Ain’t she sweet? I won’t go into details here, but suffice to say I’m a bit whole lot of annoyed right now.

    Hooray, or something. I just love special occasions.

  • Never saw any caps, with or without feathers.

    A couple of weeks ago, Kyla and I took a chance on the Macaroni Grill in downtown Portland, having been denied the chance to dine at Kells due to it being a Monday night. I approached the experience with some trepidation, as the place looks altogether too fru-fru for the likes of plebians such as myself. Never mind what I feared the final monetary tally might look like.

    Here’s the first thing we enjoyed about the experience:

    Yes, those are crayons on a paper-covered table. Yes, the crayons have food-related color names.

    No, Kyla didn’t take the purple eggplant crayon home after dinner.

    Speaking of dinner, let’s talk about the food. While we may have missed out on that other restaurant‘s garlic bread sticks, the bread loaf provided was quite yummy nonetheless. After considering the mix-and-match pasta plate, I decided to go instead with my usual dish of chicken parmisan. What better way to judge an eatery than by sampling their rendition of one of my all-time favorites?

    It was scrumptious, I tell you. The portion was considerable, too, enough so that I took half of it to work the next day for lunch. Even better, instead of the standard side of spaghetti with marinara sauce, they instead twirled a considerable helping of angel hair pasta onto the plate, flavored only with butter and herbs. I love angel hair pasta!

    We deliberately (if only with considerable self-restraint) saved room for dessert, consisting of a chocolate-filled ravioli-type pastry which was cute, but sounded more appealing than it tasted. Still, we really didn’t have anything to complain about with the food. (I recommend forgoing the salad before the main dish, though, as it’s an extra charge and nothing particularly special in its own right.)

    And then, the dreaded tally: With dessert, I still ended up paying less overall than at the other, similar-cuisine dining establishment. Wow. That’s not to say it was cheap, but they provided more dining delight per dollar than expected, and at a very competitive price.

    In short: Enjoyed Macaroni Grill. Will patronize again.

  • How to destroy the Earth

    If you’re anything like me, which in this case means “a geeky weirdo with a fascination not only for the physical sciences but also anything which involves what Marvin the Martian once called an Earth-shattering kaboom,” a description which probably applies any number of Mythbusters fans, you might want to read up on how to destroy the Earth.

    Here’s a sample quote to whet your appetite.

    The Earth is built to last. It is a 4,550,000,000-year-old, 5,973,600,000,000,000,000,000-tonne ball of iron. It has taken more devastating asteroid hits in its lifetime than you’ve had hot dinners, and lo, it still orbits merrily. So my first piece of advice to you, dear would-be Earth-destroyer, is: do NOT think this will be easy.

    I believe I’ve found my new favorite bedtime reading…

  • Happy VD to you, too.

    I didn’t know that working across the street from a car wash could constitute a health hazard, but this morning I’m being proved wrong. It’s all thanks to this:

    Apparently the car wash is having a pre-Spring cleaning of some sort, and that truck is involved. If you haven’t had the “pleasure,” imagine someone humming one note in the low-tenor range right behind your head at very high volume for about two solid hours. There’s plenty enough subsonic activity to set the skull to throbbing, which means I’m in the process of growing a right fine headache. And here I am with no pain meds and no way to escape.

    Lovely.

    Happy gaudy heart-shaped decorations day.

    EDIT: It’s amusing when one of the most famous companies operating today screws up their “trademark” custom logo for the day…

    For some reason that makes me feel better. This probably indicates that I’m a bad person.