Awesome to the Max

Three Decades Of Triumphant Sauciness

2010-06-21T13:28:00.010-05:00

Here it is: the last week of my 20s. In this past decade, I've seen countless friends married off and spread across the country. I've traveled to Mexico and discovered bacon tacos. I've seen a man chase another man with an axe past an establishment called Mo' Better Ribs. I've spent 94 hours watching Lost. I've seen Mothball wearing nothing but a pillowcase diaper. I've consumed 700 gallons of Coors Light. I've successfully convinced a friend that I tragically lost both testicles in a freak gardening accident. I've laughed until the world went gray over the concept of lettoose. I've gained four nieces and a nephew, two of which have punched me in the crotch. Probably some other stuff happened.

Now, as the decade closes, I've got the big house, the hot lawyer wife, the monogrammed beer mugs--and yet, I feel a great emptiness inside of me, fed by the inescapable knowledge that somewhere out there, a new iPhone exists and it is not yet in my possession. Fortunately I've preordered for delivery on Thursday. Until then I guess I'll fill the void with food.

Pitying Fools For 58 Years

2010-05-21T09:36:00.001-05:00

Happy birthday, Mr. T.

.565

2009-11-30T15:01:00.002-05:00

Farewell, Magic Pants. I will think of you every time I bite into a submarine sandwich and italian dressing spills out all over my shirt.

Screwed!

2009-09-22T14:58:00.005-05:00

So apparently as awesome as government insurance is reputed to be, those bastards only cover Urgent Care visits at 80%, and after a $200 deductible. Now I owe $130 to some chump doctor for giving me the go ahead to get antibiotics I already knew I needed for a sinus infection I already knew I had, as well as "labs" which I know for a fact they did not actually run. I guess they just thought, hey, if we write "labs" on the bill, that's probably good for another $50. I'm outraged, OUTRAGED! This is the kind of rage I might need to take to the streets, raise my voice for my whole generation and let those corporate fat cats know that we are miracle whip, and we won't tone it down! And someone remind me to write the guys who came up with that commercial a congratulatory letter, firstly for coming up with the world's only viable contender to "I'm so 3008, you so 2000 and late" for the dumbest series of words ever strung together, and secondly because that commercial is GENIUS. I think someone at miracle whip realized that people in my demographic are only capable of appreciating things ironically, and that millions of 20-somethings wryly smiling at the concept of a sandwich spread attempting to align itself with some imagined xtreme/hipster youth movement is vastly superior to not being in the public consciousness at all. They've probably already sold more bottles as joke gifts than they had from 1953-2008 combined. I'm thinking of buying some to slather on my Urgent Care bill so it smells real nice when they open it.

Go Irish, Beat Wolverines!

2009-09-11T13:28:00.006-05:00

In order to get maximally pumped, I encourage you all to reread the gloriously unsportsmanlike and now classic Blue-Gray Sky letter to Michigan fans:

Hatefest 2005

My pick:

ND: Jason Statham
Michigan: This guy

Good Boy, Oscar

2009-09-09T09:30:00.004-05:00

The family dog died yesterday. He was a lumbering, endearingly oafish, incredibly sweet behemoth, and a good boy.

Merellowicz Wedding

2009-09-02T14:56:00.005-05:00

The Merellowicz wedding was a grand success. Although I regret to say that no one exploded, Amy looked like she was about to throughout the entirety of the ceremony. At one point she actually started to bounce with glee--I'm pretty sure Lizett got it on video. There was a lot of the same crowd from the Ball's wedding a couple weeks before, with a few extras. Little Eli is a pretty adorable dude. Maggie was there, and I was pleased to find she has retained her cackle. The reception was a great time, with good Maggiano's food and lego towers. I broke my no dancing rule and must've been getting a little frisky, by which I mean Lizett must have been getting a little frisky, because suddenly Vnak ran up to us screaming "CRAZY MAD SEX TONIGHT! CRAZY! MAD! SEX!" Or, just as likely, that was unrelated to the dancing. One of Merello's cousins brought a hula hoop, and thusly hula'd. Also, I am happy to report that my request for Tuank Tuank was granted, thorougly confusing the woman standing behind me on the dance floor. It's okay, random woman, some things are best left shrouded in mystery. I myself am at a loss for how such a tradition got started, but I imagine they were sitting by candlelight in shadowy cloaks, drinking goldschlager from bejweled goblets.

Vnak: As our next order of business, I propose that once every party, the three eldest of us sneak into Mal & Ball's room, add Daler Mehndi's Tunak Tunak to the playlist, and vigorously engage in synchronized, Bollywood style dancing.

Angelo: The dancing should be done on a futon.

Ben: And we should pretend to pass around a crown.

Vnak: Very well. The wearer of the imaginary crown shall dance so exhuberantly that the destruction of the futon is ensured, and the lives of nearby guests are gravely endagered. Are we all in agreement?

Angelo: Sic infit.

Ben: Cogito sumere potum alterum.

Vnak: SO IT IS FORETOLD! <sacrifices a goat>

Not that I minded the destroyed futon. One could in fact argue that it was actually improved, as the weight of repeated assaults eventually bent the frame into a gentle V, so that any couple crashing on it invariably woke up as a single mass of tangled flesh. BONG! Anyway, the point is the wedding was an awesome time, congrats!

New Neighbors

2009-08-21T12:30:00.008-05:00

We met the new neighbors. I had just finished helping some Craigslist dudes move our appliances out of the house, so I was sweaty, breathing heavily, hair exploded, and wearing "work" jeans which feature so many holes that the pocket liners pretty much swing free. I think I made a good impression. "Hey Gayle, met the new neighbors! The husband was a greasy, wild-haired mouth breather who was basically wearing no pants and a shirt that said Probation Fest. I think maybe he just got out of prison? Nice guy."

That's right, I still wear the shirt.

Closing on the House Today

2009-08-14T12:21:00.001-05:00

Oose oose oose booya awesome weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

Retraction

2009-08-13T12:33:00.015-05:00

It has been brought to my attention that a fully nude Mr. Belvedere does not dwell within Lizett's erotic imagination. He is, in fact, only nude from the waist down, and retains his trademark shirt, tie, and cardigan. Apologies to the max.

Here are some pictures:

Various dudes

Mysterious Jism

THE GOAT

AHHHHHHHH!!

EERRRRMMMM!

Sexy Dudes

Sexy Ladies

Aaaaaaaaaay!

Mid-Carlton

Butt shot

Congratulations Are In Order

2009-08-11T12:01:00.018-05:00

Well, the Mothball nuptials were pretty freaking awesome. The hotel, the church, the rehearsal dinner, and especially the reception were all fantastic, and it was a blast seeing old college buddies that I, in my lameitude, have increasingly lost touch with of late--particularly those that were unable to make our wedding last year like Jism and Crowley. Booya. Although, on the way home Lizett and I wondered where the hell Goat was all weekend, since we somehow only saw him for 3 minutes when we stole his seat at breakfast. Sorry dude, hope you make it out to Merello's. So anyway, the reception was all kinds of opulent, with a grand hall, wine tree, orchids everywhere, great food, and a fantastic band. The cocktail hour featured spreads of cheese so vast that merely looking at them caused Raul's sphincter to explode. I'll go ahead and pause for a minute so you can come up with your own joke about how Rocky wanted to be the one to explode Raul's sphincter... ... ...BONG! How very vulgar. Sorry, there were a lot of inappropriate comments flying around this weekend, guess I'm still in the mode.

Everyone had a great time though, particularly Ball's dad, I think, who had a look of pride and happiness etched onto his face all weekend that was, all flippant commentary aside, really quite touching. Ball and Erica started off the reception with a First Dance medley so awesome that I'm beginning to suspect that Mothball somehow traded places with Alfonso Ribeiro himself and no one noticed because they were too entranced by the rhythm of the dance. I thought my mind couldn't be any more blown--only to be proven wrong on the drive home, when Lizett opined to me that the height of eroticism is a fully nude Mr. Belvedere lying across a bearskin rug singing Roger Whittaker's The Last Farewell. Not that I disagree, it just blew my mind. True story.

Anyway, while we're on the subject of dancing, I must request that you bastards stop trying to drag me out onto the dance floor. I know that as I sit at my table, practicing the moves I learned at the Tyrone Willingham school of impassive facial stoicism, I don't look like I'm having a particularly good time, but truly, I do enjoy just sitting back and hanging out. "But Mal," you say, "I knew you in college, you used to dance, and I can personally attest you've never had any problem making an utter fool out of yourself!" Well, generic college buddy, what you don't know, what you couldn't have known, is that during the intervening years I've had an experience that has changed my life forever. It was the sweltering summer of '07, and The Humpty Dance was blasting across a crowded dance floor. Taking my chance to do the hump, I limped to the side like my leg was broken, and a lone quarter fell from my pocket, vanishing into the crowd in the blink of an eye. I dove after, scrambling, clawing, biting, my heart screaming even as my lungs couldn't find the strength, but my quarter was gone. I haven't seen it since, and on some dark days, I think I never will...but on that day, I dropped to my knees and made a vow: never again will I set foot on a dance floor until that quarter and I are reunited. The moral is this: don't try to drag me out onto the dance floor, because it can only end, at best, in your heartbreak and abject disappointment, and at worst, in the total annihilation of the universe, starting at the nexus of my foot and your nuts.

So congrats to Mothball and Erica on a great party and the start of a great new life. Let's all do it again in three weeks.

Moving Month

2009-08-03T12:09:00.008-05:00

BOOYA! This is the best news I've heard since your mom got the test results back. Honest to God, as an adult and a person, I'm more than a little embarrassed about just how happy this news makes me. Combine that with the little jig I did when I found out HBO green-lit the Game of Thrones pilot and the only way I could be a bigger nerd is if I were wearing chain mail and Spock ears. And before you tell me Spock doesn't wear armor, maybe you should get acquainted with a little something I like to call Episode #137: A Connecticut Vulcan in King Arthur's Court. Wrote it myself.

Anyway, August is a big month for me and Lizett. Coming up:

Week 1: The big Mothball celebration. We're both taking Friday off and we should be getting in around 2ish. I missed the bachelor party, so I anticipate debauchery of dionysian proportions. Minus the orgies, because, ew.

Week 2: Closing and shopping. We'll be official homeowners on the 14th, and then we just have to get a few more things to make the place livable. We've got all our kitchen appliances, laundry, couches, and most importantly, a giant new TV, but there are still a few things to be acquired. For one, the house doesn't have a garbage disposal. What is this, Mexico? It was built in freaking 2001, and they cost like 100 bucks. Also, we'll need a kitchen table, trash cans, vacuum, lawn mower, and probably some other essentials we haven't thought of yet, so we'll be stimulating the economy all over.

Week 3: House prep. I'm taking a week off work to take care of a few home projects before we move in, the first of which will be getting rid of this hilarious wallpaper:

Then I've got to install the microwave/vent hood and dishwasher, completely-finish the semi-finished garage, and, if possible, epoxy the basement and garage floors. Also I may have to knock out a few walls because we went ahead and bought some non-returnable furniture without really checking if the intended room is big enough to accommodate it. Getting things started off right!

Week 4: Merellowicz wedding. We're all going to die.

Awesome to the Max 2.0: Oose to the Max Pimpmobile

2009-07-30T12:27:00.019-05:00

First up, we're buying a house. It's a manly house about a mile from my mom and my sister, and we're closing on the 14th.

Second, we are totally pimping out our new kitchen far beyond what we should reasonably be able to afford because the democrats are in power and they're throwing around free money like so much confetti. To all of you who got the $7500 stimulus last year which you now have to pay back--SUCKAAAAS!

Third, Ball's bachelor party. It was awesome, I'm assuming. Rocky has been banned from the city of Chicago, perhaps. There was this one really hot stripper, maybe. Ball had like 20 beers, or 30, or 3--I don't really know, I was asleep. Sorry dude--it turns out that buying a house, appliances, furniture, and paying for a quarter of tuition and two weddings all in one month is prohibitively expensive. I will be ready to rock on the 8th though. On the plus side, I got a lengthy voicemail from Vnak congratulating me on my similarities to female genitalia which should be worth quite a lot of money if he ever decides to run for president.

Fourth, the weddings. Ball on the 8th, and Merellowicz on the 29th. Sweet Jesus, AmyPawlowicz is such an outrageously happy person to begin with, I can't even imagine her on her wedding day...levitating down the aisle with...concentrated beams of joyous energy bursting from her ears like cartoon steam...each successive row of guests exploding as the jets overwhelm them...that's right, apparently the Merellowicz union is going to be bloodbath. You heard it here first.

So that's what we've been doing and what we'll be doing in the upcoming month. How've you chumps and chumpettes been?

Swarley Is Comfortable With The Way He Looks And He Doesn't Care What Any Of You Think

2009-01-21T11:51:00.002-05:00

YOU BOYS LIKE MEX-I-CO!?

2008-12-19T16:02:00.002-05:00

YEEEEEEAAAAHHHH!!!

Winter Update

2008-12-10T14:00:00.008-05:00

It's been a while, so to get everyone up to speed I've decided to employ a very sexy Q&A format. Strap in.

So, what's been going on lately?

Oh, you know. Work. Food. Sleep. We've been watching a lot of The Wire lately, it's pretty awesome. I've been to Hooters 3 times in the past 3 weeks, which would be pretty pathetic if I were a lonely old fat man, but is fine if my wife just likes wings and beer, right?

How goes the 2008 Schreiber Beard Challenge?

No go this year, I'm smooth as a baby mole rat. My current position as a relatively new employee in a well-lit office precludes my participation this year, and I think everyone else just didn't feel like doing it.

That's lame. You're lame. Holiday plans?

We're heading down to Mexico next weekend for a week and a half of fun, sun, and potential diarrhea.

What's on your Christmas list this year?

I would like not to have diarrhea in Mexico.

Why does he pronounce it "diabetus"?

I don't know. Ignorance? Comedy genius? I could answer your question better if I knew what the hell you were talking about.

If you could take back one thing in your life, what would it be?

I definitely would not have kicked that goat in the balls. Sweet Mary he was angry. I cannot even begin to explain to you the rending physical pain, heartache, property damage, and astronomical cost--both financial and psychological--that ensued as a direct result of me kicking that goat in the balls. Honest to God it was the worst mistake of my life.

Why DID you kick that goat in the balls?

Don't ask.

Is Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles any good?

Yeah, I like it. It's really tiding over my scifi needs until Battlestar and Lost come back, and I don't care what any of you jerks at the AVClub think.

What about Kath & Kim? Is that any good?

It's terrible.

But you only saw the pilot.

Screw you, I'm not putting myself through that again.

How's old Swarles?

I love that little son of a bitch. Every night when we settle down to watch TV, he jumps up and stretches across two cushions, leaving only half a cushion each for Lizett and myself, and for some reason instead of being enraged I think it's adorable. And he really hates the cold. Even if he has to pee really bad he just turns around and huddles by the door as soon as we let him out. He likes the snow once he gets out there though, he digs through it searching for treasure, then he gets snow in his nose and it makes him sneeze. It's pretty cute.

Are you growing some sort of crazy afro lately?

Yes, but only upwards, like Chris Reid from Kid 'n Play. I didn't intend for this to happen, I've just been lazy and now I don't want to have to get two haircuts before visiting Lizett's family, so I'm letting it ride.

Anything else going on?

Nah, not really. That's why I haven't been blogging much. I'll let you know how Mexico goes. And by "you" I mean my mom, since my only other reader will have lived it.

Birthday

2008-10-24T13:41:00.006-05:00

Happy birthday to Lizett yesterday. We enjoyed a fine family dinner and the girls came over to help decorate the cake. Claire inexplicably started weeping when we sang happy birthday--perhaps because, having grown unaccustomed to the ritual in the past several years, we sang in creepy, emotionless chorus, like zombies creeping forward to devour the birthday girl as the camera fades out. Then in an act of x-treme romance and sweep-her-off-her-feetery I gave Lizett a treadmill. I'm pretty sure she liked it, although I did hear her on the phone laughing in spanish--it's like her english laugh but to the tune of La Cucaracha--about the "idiota marido y su tapiz rodante no romántico".

So now we have a big sexy treadmill in the bonus room, and man was it a son of a bitch getting it up there. I had this absurd fantasy of having it all set up for her when she got home, but I couldn't even get it out of the van, and Dan, Lizett and I combined only got it halfway to the front door. In the end we called Todd over to help, standing in the cold waiting for 20 minutes before realizing a) we could have waited inside and b) we could have just opened the box and carried the pieces upstairs individually.

Suckaaaaaaaas!

A Very Special Weekend Visit

2008-10-17T13:29:00.018-05:00

The weekend visit was a smashing success--they shopped, I played video games, we all stuffed ourselves. Then Oscar got an erection, and it FREAKED HIM THE HELL OUT. One minute he was snoozing peacefully, the next he was up, bucking as he hunched half-over in pooping position, his back legs pinning a frantically wagging tail, his front legs rotating wildly on their vertical axis as if he could no longer bend his knees. He scrambled around the room trying to find a crotch to bury his face in, a 120lb beast twirling in a disoriented terror. We didn't know what to make of it at the time, it looked more like a seizure than the aftermath of a sexy dream. My mom had apparently observed this behavior before though, and she ushered him out of the room, pretending she didn't know what to make of it either. I guess she didn't want to tell Lizett's mom "it's okay, he's just scared of his penis."

Thinking about it now from his perspective--the poor guy just didn't understand what was happening. How would you feel if a big slimy tentacle spontaneously popped out of your belly button? HMMMMMMMM?? I'm not ashamed to admit I would crouch over as if to poop, lock my knees, and rotate my legs wildly as I danced around the room seeking the safety of a warm crotch. Don't act like you wouldn't.

Best Summary Photo Ever

2008-10-16T12:51:00.006-05:00

Well played, MSNBC, nothing says ISPs are pressed to become child porn cops like a giant trying to lure Mike Hammer into a steel cage with a 4 foot tall computer.

You Spoony Bard!

2008-10-10T14:23:00.007-05:00

Change of plans, in tribute to some rando nerd calling some other rando nerd a spoony bard on a message board I visited a few days or weeks ago, I'll be abandoning my previously booked Zelda playing this weekend in favor of an all-out knockout no-blinking dew-drinking volume-blaring no-pants-wearing socially-withdrawn Final-Fantasy-2-marathon! Before you call me a nerd, ask yourself, could a nerd bust rhymes like that? Anyway, if I'm such a nerd, why are you looking at ASCII porn on your TI-85, wondering if boobs are that awesome in real life? WHAT!

ND

2008-10-09T14:41:00.007-05:00

It took me a while to notice this bad boy was broken, and then I didn't feel like fixing it, but I've finally had a big enough lull at work to spruce the place up a bit with delicious bacon and speech bubbles coming out of Fry's hair. Now I wait for the kudos to come rolling in. Give me your kudos. Your kudos...give them to me.

Went to ND last weekend. Ate sausage. Vnak flashed the crotch bling. I screamed like a woman. Congratulations were to be given to various people for various things, not the least of which being the Mothball/Erica & Merellowicz engagements. Huzzah! Wee Julia Falto's stomach, midway through pregnancy, is about the same size as mine. Goat grew a beard! A big, voluptuous beard. We stayed at Merten's place despite having not talked to him since...2005? GO TEAM MONORAIL! Stitch squawked like a chicken when he saw us. I swear to god.

This weekend Lizett's Mami comes for her first Columbus visit. There is going to be a lot of hugging going on, and the Schreiber household doesn't see much hugging. Say for instance, I'm heading out of town for a few weeks or months. Before I go, everyone meanders to the door, someone says "...ALL-right! See you later," and maybe I honk the horn as I peel off. At Lizett's place, you hug and kiss goodbye if you're going to the store. If you're leaving for a longer period of time, there's this whole ritual where you hug goodbye wherever you are, then you all wander to the kitchen and hug and kiss goodbye, then everyone comes out to the car and you hug and kiss goodbye again, then as you pull away you roll down the window and reach longingly outward as if to say "EEERRMM!" Then I'm assuming after you leave everyone back at the house enjoys a nice long group hug. So if you were wondering where Lizett gets it from, it's genetic. Anyway, the weekend should be positively packed with mother/daughter alone time, so I intend to take advantage of the opportunity to play some Zelda.

Your Movie Is Bad And You Should Feel Bad!

2008-08-25T13:40:00.015-05:00

I hurt my back playing video games. I didn't realize that was it at first--I was walking out to my car Friday morning when I felt a sharp wrenching pain, so I figured I'd hurt myself walking out the front door. I spent all day glaring at doors, swiveling my whole body to look left and right, before I realized ten minutes into my post-work Call of Duty 4 shoot em' up that I was literally on the edge of the couch, tensely hunched over and gripping the controller hard enough to feel the plastic creak, doing pretty much everything in my power to injure my back. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, that's what happened. I have no idea why it all struck at once the next morning, but I had clearly gamed myself right into a back injury. On the one hand, I'm 28, but on the other, it's a very, very excellent game.

In other developments, Lizett and I finally watched At World's End this weekend, please enjoy my timely review. Thank Hades that was the last installment. I went into Dead Man's Chest still high on the unmitigated triumph that was Black Pearl, only to be uncomfortably disappointed. Still, if Dead Man was a tepid porridge of mediocrity after Pearl's hot, fresh slice of awesome, World's End was a steaming log of suck. Mmmm, that's good metaphorin'! Don't get me wrong, it had it's moments, it wasn't Bandidas bad. When Sparrow and the Pearl came crashing over the sand dune to the pirates theme I briefly remembered what made the first one so awesome, but those moments were almost completely overshadowed by the seemingly endless stream of deep yet surprisingly boring pirate mythology and mysticism saturating the film. Remember the first movie where the Pearl was initially regarded as a ghost story? As self-consciously absurd as the film was, we were at least grounded in some sort of relatable real world scenario. In contrast, the mundane had absolutely no presence in World's End, so the remarkable seemed at best typical, at worst tedious. Poop for sure.

My New Toys

2008-08-15T14:49:00.004-05:00

Thanks to a glorious combination of double income, no rent, and of course the generosity of my mommy, I have now surrounded myself with an array of technical gadgetry heretofore only dreamed of by the common man. BEHOLD!

Toshiba 42" 1080p Falt Panel LCD HDTV
DirecTV HD DVR
Playstation 3
Wii
Sony Bravia Wireless Surround System
15" 2.4GHz Core Duo 2 MacBook Pro

I have of course forsaken all social interaction in favor of my new inanimate friends. My impressions:

HDTV - The focal point. She makes it all possible. So good. I love her.

DirectTV - This is a pretty outstanding piece of technology with a terrible UI team. Dudes, just store the entire TV schedule for a given time slot in local memory, it's not like we're talking GBs or even MBs of data. If I'm on channel 305 it should not take 5 seconds to find out what is on channel 306. God help us all if I actually want to change to that channel. Remember in the 80s when you could flip channels instantly? What happened!?

PS3 - Call of Duty 4 is ridiculously outstanding, but mostly I use this as a blu-ray player. This has been good and bad, in that blue ray discs are so amazing that regular DVDs are now somewhat of a disappointment, and watching something in standard definition is about as pleasurable as a genital massage from a hungry raccoon.

Wii - MarioKart has given me endless enjoyment. Even if it wasn't an outstanding game, it would be totally worth it just for WaLuigi, a travesty of a character who is remeniscent of Dr. N. Gin from Crash Team Racing if you were to crank up the insanity by infinity. EEEEEAAAAAARRRAHHHH! WWWAAAAAAAHHHH!! MEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAA!!!

Surround - I love it. Lizett is at best tolerant. My sister, who goes to sleep roughly 30 minutes after her three year old daughter in a bed that shares a wall with my subwoofer, is not a huge fan.

MacBook - The fastest, most sophisticated and expertly engineered piece of equipment I've ever owned, which predictably I use primarily for fark.com. Thanks mom!

Bing BONG

2008-07-10T08:42:00.007-05:00

To those of you who thought The Big News was going to be a new house or a baby--suckaaaaaaaaaaas! No, this news is far bigger. This is the kind of news that makes you throw a lobster at the wall and scream OHHHH BILLY LET'S DRINK SOME BEERS! Dr. Craig "Mothballs" Mothball... ... ...is getting married.

The final Tiny Tone has fallen, the quadriad of evil is complete--THE PROPHECY HAS BEEN FULFILLED! Where do you guys want to meet for the ritual eight-way consummation?

Congratulations you big sexy beast.

Scolson BBBQ, House Hunting

2008-07-02T11:21:00.007-05:00

If you don't know what the extra B is for then you can just go to hell. After being back in Columbus for over a month we finally made the vast 10 minute drive to go visit scolson, consume grilled meats, and check out the new house:

It looks a little rough on the outside but then you walk in and BAM!

Frankly I got kind of a weird religious vibe but the architecture is beautiful. Anyway, good times were had and I learned not to judge others by stereotypes--heed me, children of Jesus, despite Miller Chill's vomit inducing bite, Bud Light Lime is actually pretty good.

So seeing scolsons new place was kind of exciting, particularly as Lizett and I are starting to look at houses ourselves. The problem is that right now we're staying with my mom, who has the kind of house one can afford toward the end of one's career. It tends to make houses in our own price range, even relatively nice ones, look like giant piles of poop. Still, we've got our eyes open--in fact, we're going to look at a foreclosure tonight. I hear it's got severe cosmetic damage! BONG.

Oh, speaking of BONG, I have news! It's of the thunder-stealing variety though, so I'll keep a lid on it for a few days. News-subject, get the word out while you can.

Good Day To You, Fellows

2008-06-26T12:31:00.007-05:00

It's been a while. Much has gone down:

1) So long, Austin! I hate you.

2) Swarlos is doing just fine. He still walks with a limp, and perhaps he always will, but he shows no apparent signs of pain and is jumping and playing and frolicking as a puppy should. He likes having Oscar (pictured here looking unusually majestic) around but he always wants to play and the age difference is a little rough. It's like asking a 70 year old man to go for a jog with you, and then when he says he's too tired you bite him in the face. Oscar exacts his revenge by drinking every last drop of Swarley's water no matter how full the bowl or how distended his stomach--it's an odd method of asserting dominance but he's arthritic so traditional mounting is problematic.

3) I got a job as a web developer at--wait for it--Abercrombie & Fitch. It's tough to describe without sounding like I'm exaggerating. Imagine one of their stores with a bunch of cubicles wedged in. By far the weirdest thing is that all the old people wear Hollister. I can't blame them, it's the only brand with even remotely reasonably priced merchandise, but it looks like they all decided to dress up as their kids for Halloween. The other weird thing is that the home office is a place of business like any other place of business, yet they play the store CD on permanent loop and have giant murals of largely naked people everywhere. The 16x10 foot naked people fade into the background pretty quick, but the store CD is a little harder to deal with. It's only like a 45 minute CD and a 9 hour work day. I got Rick Rollled, without exaggeration, 5 dozen times in the first week. I quit the following Monday.

4) I got a job at Franklin University. Ahh, this is a little more my speed. For one thing, I'm sitting in my nice quiet office right now having myself a good blog. Mmmmmmmmmm. Secondly, I don't feel like I'm contributing to the desctruction of society. Third and most importantly, it was only about 3 hours into my first day before the subject of pooping into a ziplock bag came up. Yes, these are my people. So I'm a Business Analyst here, and what I do is--well, no one has been able to effectively describe it to me. The best explanation I have received so far is that I'm essentially the "Loose a Turn" guy on Office Space. I'M A PEOPLE PERSON, DAMN IT!

5) Lizett is studying full time for the bar. She hates it.

6) Some other stuff has happened. Babyfest 08 in NC, for example! Looks like I'm going to have some time, I'll get to it. I'll get to it to the max.

Dog Update

2008-05-15T10:53:00.002-05:00

A good night's sleep at home did him well. Yesterday he was a shaky mess, barely able to stand, refusing to drink or even open his mouth, and softly crying all night as thick stringy drool hung from his jowls. It was gross and sad.

He's much better today, morphine free. This morning he ate heartily, drank most of his water dish in one dip, chewed lustily on his bone, and then turned belly up for some good old fashioned tummy scratches. Now if you will excuse me, I have to go inform my boss that tomorrow will be my last day.

Recovery

2008-05-14T22:26:00.004-05:00

Swarlos is back and on the road to recovery. It's a sad situation. He's been laying around softly whimpering for the past four hours or so. He's all shaven and drugged up and generally sad.

But he's still managed to be adorable.

Man Down!

2008-05-13T18:01:00.007-05:00

Swarleyface is in recovery right now, probably high out of his mind of painkillers. He's defective, a lemon. One of the bones in his left leg stopped growing prematurely while the other just kept right on going, bowing out grotesquely and jamming his cartilage into the elbow joint. This condition led to a pigeon-towed stance that was pretty cute in real life but turned out to be highly disgusting in the x-ray. So, unless we wanted to watch him slowly lose all mobility over the next three years, the only option was surgery. Expensive, expensive surgery. Laptop expensive. Nice laptop expensive. It's no picnic for him either, I imagine, as he had to get his leg cut open, excess cartilage scraped away, and one of his bones cut so it can extend to it's rightful length over the next 3 to 4 weeks. And no doubt he's going to have to wear one of those hilarious head cones so he doesn't eat his own sutures. Poor Buddy. Poor, poor Buddy.

In better news, we're out of here in less than a week now! It looks like UT is going to let me stay on remote until the axe falls at the end of the summer, which is great because it means I've got a paycheck and more importantly insurance until we get established up in Columbus. BONG. Of course, the plan is subject to approval by various higher ups so it could all potentially fall apart and leave us destitute with a broken dog. Poor Buddy.

Finally, I promise once we get to Columbus we'll finally send out some thank-you cards. We really do appreciate everyone being there and helping us get started and we're huge jerks for putting it off so long, but once we had reached a certain threshold of procrastination we just decided to wait until we got to Columbus (where most of our gifts are) and send them all out at once. For realsies to the max stick and needle in my eye.

Pecheeew, Pecheeew, Pecheeew!

2008-05-05T15:51:00.005-05:00

Lizett and I went to the shooting range, it was pretty awesome. I know, guns are evil--I am of course opposed to firearms in the home or on the streets, but I figure if there's any appropriate place for their use it's a shooting range. I mean, I'm also opposed to tearing an SUV through a crowded shopping mall, but am more or less okay with driving back and forth to work. Don't think about it, just accept it.

It was a little freaky. I don't know if it's just because we're in Texas or if all shooting ranges are like this, but they basically gave us no instruction. Here's your gun, off you go! I had assumed there would be some kind of mandatory safety course, but nope. He didn't even actually show us how to load or handle it, he just verbally described its function, advised us not to point the barrel at anyone, and sent us to lane 2.

We started out with a .22 revolver, and honestly it felt a lot like shooting a BB gun. Having never touched let alone shot a gun before I was expecting to be blown through the back wall, but the kick was negligible. Unfamiliar with the hierarchy of ammunition calibers, I didn't realize I was using the little bitch of the pistol family, so when we traded up to a 9mm glock the first shot very nearly resulted in all loss of bowel control/my arms. It was fun though once I got the hang of it, and I wasn't a terrible shot. I was marginally better than the wheelchair bound 7 year old in the lane next to us anyway. Very marginally.

The highlight was clearly when Lizett took some piping hot brass to the cleavage. Let this be a lesson ladies, if you're going to the shooting range, don't wear a boob shirt. She took a shot, let's say nailed the bullseye for the sake of the story, and the shell casing flew up, back, and right back down to the money spot. There's not a lot you can do in the department of quick reaction time while holding a loaded glock, so pretty much she just bounced and wiggled and did a little dance I like to call Flaming Boobies trying to get that bad boy out of there. It was probably the funniest thing that could have happened at a shooting range outside of Lizett strapping on some bandoliers and shooting wildly into the air yelling Ariba, ariba, andale andale, ariba! At least it seemed that way at the time...it turns out that the piping hot brass was actually searing hot brass, and now she's got a nice little red spot hanging out right between the ladies, as if enough people weren't staring at her cleavage already. But it was still kind of funny.

And Then I Won $25

2008-05-03T16:16:00.002-05:00

VICTORY! I always knew God loved me above all others, but now I have proof in the form of a $25 gas card. Lizett and I were on one of our bi-monthly Hooters outings, judging the waitresses, when opportunity knocked--there was to be a drawing for a $25 dollar gas card, and all you needed to do to enter was give up your name, address, phone number, birthday, and email! How could I lose?? So I entered with a bunch of information that is about to change in 3 weeks anyway and sure enough, when the moment came the winner was the very alias I had used, Santos L. Halper. Joy of joys, free gas! The guy next to me held out his fist in congratulations, and suddenly I panicked. How are the kids hitting the rock these days? Are they even calling it the rock anymore? Did they ever? I CAN'T REMEMBER! I went for the downstroke, followed by the upstroke, finishing strong with knuckle to knuckle contact, and then fled.

Unfortunately to collect my prize I had to get my picture taken with all the Hooter Girls so they could display my triumph on the wall...I know, it sounds good, but remember back in college when I always insisted on the no-touch hug? That was no act, my friends. I genuinely do hate physical contact with people I don't know very well, buxom and flirty though they may be, and being squeezed in between 10 strange women who smelled like chicken wings was my personal nightmare. I placed my hands firmly in my pockets, tried to keep as much distance as possible (which turned out to be none) and took the most awkward picture of all time. And then fled.

He's No Robot Ray Liotta

2008-04-16T15:02:00.003-05:00

I had a dream last night that this tall guy in Mayan tribal vestments smacked me so hard in the back of the head that my vision went blurry...but then I took my glasses off and I could see 20/20.

Whoa.

...And That's How I Chemically Burned My Nipples

2008-04-09T11:14:00.011-05:00

It's been a while...have I still got the moves? Prepare to be enthralled, although I should confess ahead of time that there's not really anything in here about chemically burned nipples. Although there is general mention of nipples, so that's something.

First off, I'm so totally married now, and as such finally found out what the female reproductive organs look like. Baby they blew my mind. Thanks everyone who made it out, we really appreciated everyone--and I mean EVERYONE, since Lizett and I were the only people in attendance who actually live in Austin--traveling so far to celebrate with us.

Note to all attendees--thank you notes are delayed to varying degrees due to our moving schedule. If you sent a gift to Austin you'll be getting one forthwith, however if you sent it to Columbus (our default address on the registry) it'll be a couple months because, you know, we're not there yet. We thought about sending pre-thank-you notes that said, can't wait to open your gift in June! But then we thought, yeah we're not doing that.

Blogging about the wedding or honeymoon has seemed too daunting because so much stuff happened. What to cover, where to begin? Maybe I'll do it later. For now I'll just mention the incident nearest and dearest to my heart, which is that Lizett's boob popped right out of her swimsuit on the second day of the honeymoon and the entire pool population saw the goods. Suckaaaaaaaa!

Just married:

The honeymoon:

Leaving the honeymoon:

HERE'S What I Think Of Your Prophylactic

2008-02-28T11:25:00.004-05:00

Swarley pooped on a condom. There, I said it! I just ruined the whole punchline of the story, but I couldn't contain myself. We were out on our morning constitutional, heading for his favorite pooping spot. He likes to poop in a secluded corner of the complex behind some guy's boat, which is fine with me. He always looks so ashamed, crouched over, glancing around guiltily, I feel he's entitled to his privacy. So we're heading behind the boat, and old Swarles is tugging harder than usual, the way he does when he's caught the scent of a frog or a dead bird. If only! By the time I rounded the motor he was already on top of it. Apparently Swarley is not the only one who enjoys the seclusion of that little nook. Damn kids! Although I suppose at least they were safe. Damn litterbugs. As soon as I saw what it was I yanked the leash up to get his nose off the ground, horribly frightened that his tongue, which he routinely utilizes in sneak attacks on my face, was about to contract gonoherpesyphilitis, but he was way ahead of me. Calmly turning on the spot, Swarlos casually crouched and unloaded right on top of that bad boy, and surely it was my imagination, but for once he didn't look ashamed. I'm pretty meticulous about cleaning up after my dog, I even buy biodegradable doggie bags so I can be kind to both the complex and the Earth, but I wasn't touching that one. If you want that pile off your grass, Camden, you clean it up.

Hypertension To The Max

2008-02-20T13:02:00.012-05:00

I'm getting old for reals. I know 20-somethings incorrectly come to that realization all the time, but I have proof! My doctor is concerned about my blood pressure. I've had mildly high blood pressure for as long as I can remember getting physicals, but since I'm relatively young, relatively thin, and presumably relatively healthy, my doctors always shrugged it off as "nothing to be concerned about." Now, suddenly, New Guy is concerned? Son of a bitch probably just wants to push some lipitor on me. I've never seen any doctor so owned by pharmaceutical companies. All his walls are plastered in ads, and everything from his pens to his kleenex boxes are emblazoned with words like prolozidectophyl and viroxamilizene. Maybe I should just get another doctor. Maybe I should've thought of that before I went out and bought an $80 blood pressure monitor. At the very least I should've just put it on the registry. Anyway, I'm supposed to monitor myself for a month and if it is consistently high I suppose I'll be told to cut back on delicious food, or at least stop eating the fat ringing my nightly steak. Which reminds me, have you seen this? It's been declared the worst food in america by Men's Health:

Outback Steakhouse
Aussie-Tizers - Aussie Cheese Fries
Serving Size: 28 oz
Calories: 2900
Total Fat: 182 grams
Carbohydrates: 240 grams
Protein: 75 grams

Dude, Ball, remember when we used to routinely split one of those before each digging into our two loaves of buttery honey bread, loaded baked potato, three tall Fosters, and 14oz steak?* Sweet baby Jesus it's a wonder my blood vessels haven't exploded.

*You know, on our man dates? Also, remember that time we asked for Fosters but the waiter brought us Mich Ultra instead and neither of us noticed? And we agreed to never speak of it again? BONG!

WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT??

2008-02-14T16:35:00.009-05:00

I didn't get into OSU's Higher Ed Admin program! I know it sounds insufferably cocky but it had never really crossed my mind that I wouldn't. At first I was disappointed, but then I got angry. Don't they know who I am? I once chugged a beer filled with parmesan cheese! If you can't see how great that makes me, OSU Gods, well then I feel sorry for you. Can you hear me up there, sitting atop your giant floating buckeye? What's it going to take to impress you? Gorgonzola? Roquefort? I can't just go around swilling cheese laden beers until you make up your freaking minds, can't you understand that?? Whatever. That's the only program I applied to so I guess now I need to find a job, so if you're a potential employer you should definitely hire me.

Best and Worst

2008-02-14T13:29:00.001-05:00

Gladiators:

Best:

Wolf: Wolf is easily the most awesome male gladiator because he is totally batshit insane. Not like, his character is insane, but the guy playing Wolf is actually insane. Look at his eyes, man, and his...weird grin, they say, you do not want to contemplate what I would do to you if we weren't surrounded by crowds and cameras. I don't think he actually thinks he's a wolf, but I think sometimes maybe he gets a little confused.

Honorable Mention:

Titan: Titan is so huge that they didn't even bother to give his character a personality. He's just an amiable fellow talking in a normal tone of voice. GLADIATORS READDYYYYY? Righty-o, refereeno! Let's get this show on the road, as they say!

Worst:

Toa: Toa sucks because he's the exact opposite of Wolf. Instead of actually being insane, he's pretty clearly just a regular fellow trying to play an insane guy. Oh look, he's crossing his eyes and sticking his tongue out! That's not intimidating. You suck.

Best:

Crush: Yes, Crush is the hot one, but that's not why. She's also far and away the happiest gladiator. Have you seen her after she knocks someone off the joust? She looks so genuinely pleased with herself--and not all smug like "yeah, I'm awesome" but more honestly and pleasantly surprised that she was able to pull off the victory. She sort of gives that surprised smile and then raises her arm like, me? I did it? I DID it!

Honorable Mention:

Siren: Siren's legs are freaking huge. When she crouches down in her ready position for the joust, her thigh muscles tense so much it looks like she's not only going to hulk out of her spandex, but maybe, horrifyingly, her skin. Plus she's not Venom.

Worst:

Hellga: God, I hate Venom. She was a shoe-in for the worst gladiator, but rage has driven me to give it to Hellga. She was my early favorite, but her repeated inability to beat anyone in anything has caused me to question the legitimacy of the games. The only good thing Hellga has ever done was get blasted into the water after sucking it up on Assault.

Contenstants:

Best:

Evan: Evan is driven completely by fear, and not ashamed to admit it. What makes you go so fast, Evan? I'm afraid. I'm afraid of what the large, angry men chasing me might do if they catch me. I contemplate the physical harm they may deliver upon me if I should slip. I think about my bones breaking under their iron grip and I cry...and then I win.

Worst:

Adam: I think this is the guy who got injured in like the first round on the first day. I don't even remember for sure. That's why he sucks.

Best:

Monica: Monica's got guns, she's not an idiot, and she appears to be genuinely enjoying the competition. After one round she did a wacky victory dance complete with those hooting sounds that are like "Oooo-ii, oooo-ii!" that should have filled me with white-hot rage, yet which I inexplicably found endearing. Maybe it's the guns.

Worst:

Venus: Hi, I'm Dr. Venus, and when I'm not spouting out stupid catch phrases, I'm at my doctor job doctoring, because I got my MD at doctor school where I learned to doctor it up, doctor style! DOCTOR!

Hosts:

Best:

The Hulkster: Hulk Hogan is the greatest host of anything ever. He says "brother" like all the time and he always turns the interviewee's name into some sort of ill-fitting segue. He's a gigantic man-beast who is just as likely to pile drive you into the floor as he is to congratulate you. Whatcha gonna do, brother, when the hulkamania runs wild on YOU?? I don't know but until then I'll be crying in the corner.

Worst:

Laila: I've got no ill will towards you. Still.

PS

2008-02-14T13:19:00.001-05:00

Happy Valentine's Day

DO IT

2008-02-13T12:28:00.002-05:00

Book your rooms, you lazy slackers, because the magical room block rate dissipates into the ether on February 15th.

Ye Olde Booking Site

I'm talking to you, LB and Nipples. I'm talking to you.

So Long, Loser!

2008-02-01T15:34:00.000-05:00

Lost is back, weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!! And they brought back the sad music for Charlie! You know, it's like

♫ DOO, doo DOO, doo DOO doo DOO, dee doooo... ♫

No? I don't care.

I was happy to see that furry footed little son of a bitch get blown up/drowned, despite his last minute self sacrificing heroic hand-to-the-window blah blah blah blah. In fact, I haven't been quite so happy to see anyone get written off since Ana-Lucia, and that blonde chick who left the show to do The Fog before that. But man, that sad music is powerful. <DOO, doo DOO...> Maybe Charlie wasn't so bad, I thought. <doo DOO doo DOO> Sure he was a gigantic drug addled douchebag, but he really came through in the end! And by the time the <dee doooo...> came I was weeping into Lizett's bosoms. CHAAAARRRLIIIIIEEEEE!!!

But then when his ghost came back later in the show I shot the TV.

Wedding Invites

2008-01-23T22:30:00.000-05:00

We still haven't sent them. I know, we're very late. Soon! We have them but we've been in Mexico, and had we sent them from there they would have arrived sometime in August. Right now they're in Houston, but Lizett is heading back there on Friday for one of her many dress fittings, so she'll address them then and they should be out Saturday morning. In the meantime, feel free to book travel and buy us many expensive gifts. The hotel information is in the save the date--you can book online, I think it's linked at our Knot page. Do it by Feb. 8th though or I'm not sure we still get the group rate. Here's the rough itinerary if it helps--

Friday, 8p-11p: Informal Reception at the hotel
Saturday, 6p-12a: Ceremony and Reception at the Allan House
Sunday, 12:45a-12:47a: Sweet love
Sunday, 8a-ish: Brunch at the hotel

Mexico was scary. Did you know their plumbing system cannot handle toilet paper? I didn't. I learned that lovely fact on the flight over when Lizett finally felt it was safe to tell me you're just supposed to throw it in the garbage. And now I can't unlearn it.

Pictures

2008-01-16T16:03:00.000-05:00

I haven't posted lately because I'm a very busy and important man with many responsibilities--like this weekend I dozed in and out of a two hour documentary on Feudal Japan. Did you know Samurais were jerks? Anyway, here's some pictures.

Santa brought Nat a bee umbrella and matching boots

VRREEEEAAAAAARRRWWW!

<ka-ka-ka-ka-ka-ka> WEEEAAAAaaaarrrrwwww... <BOUSCH!!!>

I simply could not decide which of these was more adorable

A rare shot of Andrew not up on two feet

And the Lord gazed down upon the new dollhouse, and He saw that it was good

"I must have you!" "It is taboo!"

Hey look, I discovered the color accent feature on our new camera

Whatever you got for Christmas, it is not as awesome as my custom made multi-colored fuzzy dice

The matching steering wheel cover didn't fit but makes a very fine hat

As promised, a picture of my firm but supple buttocks. Yes. Lizett photographs me while I sleep

Bonus Shot

2008-01-16T16:02:00.000-05:00

This is it. THE BEARD. The greatest it ever has been, or ever will be. Seriously, I do not want to contemplate a future, professionally or socially, in which I have another six weeks to walk around looking like a diseased vagrant. Oh yes! It took me six weeks to sprout forth the masterpiece you see sprawling before you. Behold its radience! BEHOLD IT!

All Man

2007-12-31T12:27:00.000-05:00

The full pictorial holiday update will have to wait since I left our camera cable back in Austin (we're at Lizett's parents' place in Houston), but count on many adorable shots of my many adorable nieces and my one adorable nephew, and possibly some bonus closeups of my firm but supple buttocks. I got some new pants.

Two more checks on the wedding planning list. First, we booked our honeymoon, a place called Aventura Spa Palace down in Riviera Maya on the recommendation of my brother and sister-in-law, who said it's just all kinds of awesome and if you have a hankering for some steaks in the middle of the night, which we surely will, well then you just call down and they'll be shoveling beef down your gullet before you can say "I paid out the ass for this months ago so it feels free, free, freeeeee!" Also there's some pyramids or something which everyone assures me are mind-blowing, so we'll shoehorn in some culture between stuffing our faces, snapping our fingers at waiters, and long, fevered games of monopoly when the lights go out.

Secondly, we went and got our wedding bands. We were having trouble finding one for Lizett because I got her a very dainty engagement setting to contrast her plump, kielbasa-like fingers and maximize the bling factor of the main attraction, and everything we saw tended to fit poorly against it. Then, because I am God's favorite, out of the blue comes a perfectly sized wrap, set with deep blue sapphires and accent diamonds, which slides around the big dawg as if they were designed as one ring. BONG.

For myself, I got the manliest ring ever forged. Tungsten carbide, baby. You can't dent, scratch, or bend it. Also you can't resize it, so if my finger ever changes I have to get painful surgery in lieu of a trip to the jewelry store. How manly is that!? And the thing is HEAVY. It's like carrying around a big block of lead everywhere you go. Years down the road, my left arm will be a foot and a half longer than my right, and everyone will know it's because I'm all man. The guy who sold it to me said nothing will break it short of a bullet. A bullet! Dude used gunfire in his sales pitch for this ring. Another salesman, in an attempt to steer me towards more expensive platinum, told me about a "friend of his cousin" who got in a car accident and got his tungsten carbide ring caught on some part of the car, and the paramedics had to cut his finger off because they couldn't cut through the ring. It apparently did not occur to them to cut through whatever the ring was caught on. He wasn't a particularly bright salesman. The point is, his hilariously poorly thought out fabrication just made the ring manlier in my eyes, and anyone who says different is in serious danger of taking a big block of lead to the sternum.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

I Lose

2007-12-29T16:13:00.001-05:00

Someone punch me right in the face, Lizett and I just bought matching t-shirts.

Updates

2007-12-18T13:43:00.000-05:00

It being Christmas time, I've gotten some updates from a few people so I thought I'd spread the word:

Mothball: is currently living in Chicago with his lady, interviewing for robotics jobs, and drinking.

Jism: and company ran up an $1100 bar tab at her SO's birthday bash last Friday.

Crud: writes very short update emails with no actual content.

Andy&Becky: are thus far unaware that I've switched out their preferred method of birth control for folgers crystals.

Lunchbox: is working tech support in NY and is totally not gay no matter what I may have repeatedly told you.

Goat: was the victim of a farfetched industrial accident in which his DNA combined with that of a chimpanzee. He still looks about the same but possesses the strength of ten men.

Rooster: is getting married! I realize I am informing absolutely no one of this since I was waaaaaaaaay the last person to hear.

Rocky: is living in Indy and inexplicably considering a 24 hour train ride as his means to getting to Texas for the wedding.

Raul: is a for reals international industrial accident preventer based in SB.

Dave: is successfully running a scam in which his roommates pay the entire mortgage for the house he just bought.

Stitch: was the victim of a farfetched industrial accident in which his DNA combined with that of a chimpanzee. There were no apparent effects.

Ben & Amy: are probably lost.

Crowley: is in GA studying rocket science and growing sweet 'staches part time.

Doozer: was sadly lost in the custody battle.

Vnak & Vnak (& Vnak & Vnak): are all piled into their minivan for a Sunday drive.

Kimlinger & Kimlinger: routinely incorporate superpubs into their pillow talk.

Jer: is totally flying all the way to Texas for my wedding even though I didn't go to his. Boy do I feel like a douche.

Nemo: is, at this moment, making someone horrendously uncomfortable.

Jan: thinks I'm great and is a chump.

Liz: is a chump and thinks I'm great.

Lizett: will be spending her first Christmas with the Schreibers in t-minus 7 days!

I: can't wait to shave this beard.

Merry Christmas

2007-12-18T11:56:00.000-05:00

Lizett wins Christmas this year. We exchanged gifts last night to avoid lugging them to Columbus and she got me a Garmin Nüvi, which is just all kinds of awesomer than anything I got her. Now with google maps in my pocket and a disembodied voice in my car literally telling me what to do turn-by-turn in real time, my mastery over the physical world is nearly complete--all that is left is to become the ultimate fighting champion.

Our first tree:

Swarley gets into the spirit:

Swarley done et' his bed:

That last one didn't really have anything to do with Christmas, I just like it.

I Find Your Lack of Continence Disturbing

2007-12-13T15:42:00.000-05:00

We took Swarley on a little hike this weekend at a nearby park and he got so physically exhausted he gave himself diarrhea. Fat son of a bitch.

Actually it turns out we're going to have to watch his weight. Apparently Bassets have one leg bone that grows quicker than another in the same leg, and as a result their legs turn outward as they grow into adulthood. No big deal but if they get to be too much of a lardo it starts to stress the joint, so we're gonna have to keep an eye on that. The other day he ate an entire dog bed and a fleece blanket for dessert but then he barfed it all up so I think we're okay.

I took the GRE earlier this month and it went well aside from freaking engineers messing up the math curve. Still, I'm going to go ahead and assume I'm in the upper range of non-freaking-engineers, because I am a jerk and always assume things like that. S-M-R-T!

Save the dates finally went out. I think they're purple or something. Next up is invitations, so we've got to pick some nice formal etiquettey wording for that.

You are totally invited
to the super sweet wedding of
Lizett "DD" Martinez
&
Animal "Bjorn" Schreiber

He went to Jared.

In fitness news we finally and at long last, after weeks upon weeks plagued with illness and injury, have worked our way up to regular three mile runs. Now to destroy all progress over the holidays.

Scared of Santa

2007-12-07T13:42:00.001-05:00

This is outstanding

Baby Melissa

2007-12-04T17:07:00.000-05:00

How cute is this!?

Adorable, no? Let's all enjoy a closeup.

Mmmmmm that's fantastically rugged.

Schreiber Beard Challenge 2007tothemax

2007-12-03T12:38:00.000-05:00

It's that time of year when things start to get real itchy and not a little horrifying: THE 2007 Schreiber Beard Challeeeeeenge!!! This is my year, baby. Eric had to drop out this cycle due to an irrational belief that keeping his job is more important than looking like a hobo for a month, so I'm already that much closer to first place. Plus the competition technically started Thanksgiving Day, but through the power of cheating I've already got over 3 weeks of man fuzz going (oh yes! I visited Lizett's family for the holiday with a week and a half of sparse, patchy growth). What sort of man would cheat in a competition who's only accolades are pride and honor? A desperate man. A sad, patchy, desperate man with nothing to lose. So now at over three weeks I'm already as hairy as I've ever been, and I've still got three more weeks to go. This is it, I can feel it in my translucent, preadolescent mustachio. This year when I finally shave it won't take my family the better part of a day to notice any difference. This year I will actually have enough of a base to carve a wacky, old-timey pattern on the day of my return to the civilized world. This year no snarky waitresses will tell me I "have something on [my] chin". This year Santa brings me victory.

Thanksgiving

2007-11-30T15:35:00.000-05:00

I just got Rick Rolled by Hooters!

Secondly, if you haven't received your save-the-date yet, hold off on the sweatpants--you are not necessarily a total loser. We haven't sent them out yet, but we will soon.

We went down to Houston to spend Thanksgiving with the Martinez clan. Lizett's grandmother was in town, along with some nth cousins and a brand new arrival, Melissa. There's this adorable picture of Lizett and I sitting with week-old Melissa and I was going to write a hilaaaaaaaarious post claiming she was ours, but then Mario never sent us the picture. Perhaps he sensed was was about to occur.

Thanksgiving day was pretty standard. I had my standard meal of a small slice of ham and a single roll. I listened to a whole lot of Spanish and awkwardly joined in the laughter when it seemed appropriate. Normally Lizett's fam switches over to English when I'm in town, but with the extended family in town that wasn't really practical and as a result I spent a lot of time with a vacant smile on my face, nodding at nothing in particular. It was a good time though. We played this game called Loteria which is like a mildly racist version of good ol' American Bingo, and I ruled all. I even pulled out my best Spanish pronunciation to call out the squares and no one seized or punched me.

Swarlos had his Thanksgiving too. We went back to Lizett's house in the middle of the festivities to feed and walk old Swarleyhorse, only to discover a path of destruction beyond our wildest imaginings. Normally we crate him when we're gone, because he is just a puppy after all, but her parents felt bad for him and insisted we leave him out to nap in luxury. Huge. Mistake. Along the All Fatal Ingestion Casa de Martinez Destruction Tour, Swarley ate:

1) Several plastic wrapped sacks of candy
2) A balloon
3) A razor
4) A cell phone
5) A lithium-ion battery
6) A pair of glasses w/case

Swarley did NOT eat:

1) His food
2) His treats
3) His toys

Later, in classic Thanksgiving fashion, he vomited everywhere.

RaaaaaaAAAAAAAAGE!

2007-11-27T10:34:00.000-05:00

Wasn't something written here before?

2007-11-06T10:35:00.001-05:00

Andrew the skunk & Natalie the princess

Claire the pumpkin & Gwen the bee

Punchie From Oven

2007-11-05T13:35:00.000-05:00

Well, the wedding is off again.

Haha, just a little my-weddings-keep-getting-canceled humor! Everything is great, just thought I'd manufacture some drama to mark my first real post in a month or so. The wedding plans are going swimmingly, and those of you who aren't total losers should be receiving your save-the-dates in two or three weeks.

The truth is, nothing terribly interesting has been happening lately. CW has proved beyond any doubt that he is not in fact a robot genius by throwing away the longest winning streak in NCAA history with a stubborn and bizarre refusal to kick the game-winning field goal. We all know you have giant balls dude, we've seen the dance. This is like Braveheart where William Wallace's bold-bordering-on-foolhardy tactics seemed all heroic and inspiring but then he ended up overextending himself and Longshanks beheaded his ass. Pretty much exactly like that.

Big news: yesterday for the first time I ran a full 20 minutes with nary a twinge in my shin. This was my first pain-free run in...2007. 5 weeks of oh-so-careful training and I'm finally at the average starting point of a normal human being. HOOOUUUGGGHHHBRBRBRBRBBR!!

November will be the month of intensive GRE studying. Being the only sibling without a graduate degree is getting awfully embarrassing, so I plan on enrolling in OSU's Higher Ed Admin program next fall. I figure if I schedule the test for the end of the month, it'll still give me plenty of time to reschedule for mid-December after I totally bomb it as a result of not having used my brain for anything but blogging and Guitar Hero for the past five years.

Adorable Halloween pictures of my niecews will be forthcoming.

Classic Taylor! -- Or -- I Swear To God I Am Not Making This Up

2007-10-24T13:19:00.001-05:00

Due to popular demand, the content of this post has been replaced with an infant dressed up as a hot dog.

Fergorrendous

2007-10-04T11:53:00.000-05:00

Last night we accidentally caught the first three minutes of Gossip Girl on the CW--I swear to Buddha it was an accident, we were just cleaning up after dinner before switching over to the DVRing Bionic Woman--and for some hilarious and unfathomable reason, the creators decided to open up their new series with an all female choir arrangement of Fergie's Glamorous. For realsies.

Words cannot express...it was horrible. HORRIBLE. When they said floss-ay floss-aaay I started to question if I had lost my mind. It was more uncomfortable than last night on America's Next Top Model when Tyra started talking with a french accent for no reason and then kept up with it for like 5 minutes of air time. Yeah, I watch it.

I already feel that Fergie is the worst thing to happen to music since my buddy Paco from high school changed his name to Pimp Daddy Welfare and released his rap single Mr T. Is A Bitch*, and this was the worst thing to happen to Fergie since those terrorists released an ultra-slow lullaby-remix of My Humps, which I'd gladly link to here except the US government tracked and eradicated all existing copies for the good of the world. Best 33 billion dollars they ever spent. Point is, don't watch Gossip Girl, or you will die.

Mr T. is a bitch, Mr. T is a bitch

And I pity the fool that don't know that shit

Various Updates

2007-10-03T12:06:00.000-05:00

Weekend update: I'm just starting the work week, because I've spent the last couple days home coughing. Hey, remember back in college when I had that hacking cough for 4 years straight? Haha, oh I coughed up many a gob. I've mostly dropped that, but I've had a wicked cold for the past few days so I opted to stay home and hang out with the dog, who in a blessed expression of sympathy for my plight barely tried to eat me at all. He did jump up on the couch and shake his ass in my face for a while, but considering how much he loves that area himself he was probably trying to do a nice thing.

Wedding update: The new date is set! Clear your schedules, steam your best suit, and start saving to buy us that LCD HDTV because wedding bells are ringing right here in Austin, TX on March 8th. That's March 8th. If you're reading this you're probably invited, unless you're some weirdo. Lizett has shocked the world and punched the Pope right in the face by opting to have a non-Catholic, non-Church, and indeed wholly non-religious ceremony at a historical mansion in downtown Austin, thus assuring our eternal damnation in the eyes of the Jesus and not coincidentally her mamama. Huge bonus: no Pre-Cana.

Fitness update: Lifting is coming along quite nicely but I'm hitting some problems with the running. In week 3 of the Couch to 5k program we have just now progressed to equal parts walking and running, and still my right shin continues to throb more with each stride. I'm not quite sure how to proceed because I genuinely could not be taking it any slower, and I definitely don't want to stop, but if things continue at this rate I'll be past the point of tolerance within a couple weeks. The dude at RunTex said I have high arches, maybe I'll try some insoles and see if that helps any.

Swarley update: Swarley/CESM/Gynecomastea has lost her virtue, violated by a pebble kicked up by some sonofabitch on I-35. My formerly pristine CRV now has a small but noticeable chip/crack in the windshield which, left untreated, could destroy the fabric of reality. The first injury to an otherwise unmarred car is so traumatic. I remember when I first got the Silver Bullet, it was right outside of Boracho--God bless her, she was barely out of the dealer lot when Moose opened a car door right into her front passenger side, taking out a paint chip the size of some sort of small paint chip and a largish piece of my soul. I temporarily swallowed my rage because, let's face it, Moose could snap my arms off and reintegrate them with my body via my rectum with minimal effort, but brothers, it hurt. Man, Boracho was good though. Good going down anyway, but it's like McDonalds breakfast--first you eat it, then it eats your stomach lining.

My Blog Now

2007-09-29T16:02:00.000-05:00

Wah wah wah, my <body part> hurts. I work out now, tee hee hee!

We are awful. I'm so ashamed.

Are the Sonic guys in on the joke? Are they just supposed to be idiots, or are they sort of clever, quirky guys? Why is that chick even with that dude? These are the questions that keep me up at night.

Hurting Myself

2007-09-27T13:17:00.000-05:00

We're midway through week 2 of our more-walking-than-running program, and hilariously I've still somehow managed to bring grievous harm to my right shin. About 20 seconds into my grueling 90 second running rotation it inevitably starts to throb like it's being crushed under the weight of ten thousand hundred jillion suns, and then comes the whining. Ay yi yi, mis rodillas! No sé la palabra para "shins"! Jesús Billy! So I decided some expert advice was in order and headed to Runtex, which is a pretty cool running store where they examine your stride and determine the best shoe for you, only to be told that I had somehow already blundered into buying a decent shoe and my shin throbs because I'm a little bitch. Their expert advice: run (/walk) through it and see a doctor if my lilbitchery continues.

In other hurting myself news, I have determined that stiff-legged deadlifts are better suited for permanent back injury than beneficial strength gains. I'm 27, why is my body functioning like a 45 year old?

Owie Owie Ow Ow Ow

2007-09-18T12:04:00.001-05:00

That is the sound my man-boobies are making right now in response to the aforementioned full-length non-getting-back-in-the-groove type lift. It seems my ingenius plan of avoiding crippling soreness by easing into the routine with several sessions of low-weight high-rep workouts was in fact a stupid jerk. Or maybe I'd be even more sore had I not done it this way, I find debilitating soreness is kind of like a hangover in that you never truly recall how miserable it is until you're living it. All in all it went okay though--I lost about 60lbs off my bench but that is to be expected from 2+ years of complete inactivity.

Lizett and I are starting a running program today in an effort to temper our rippling hugeness with sensual tautness. We're doing an interval program working up to 5k thrice a week which involves comically little running for the first several weeks. This is very good for me, because being a skinny guy with long legs I feel that I should be good at running, so every time I start up I go full out and completely destroy my weak womanly shins, then inevitably lose interest in running during the following weeks of pained recovery.

In an effort to temper our sensual tautness with lumpy corpulence, we did make that cake last night, and we ate it right before bed. It was supachocolaty.

There We Go

2007-09-17T14:09:00.001-05:00

Ah, more or less back to normal. Plus now each and every time you come to be updated on my whirlwind adventures (9/16: bought a vacuum cleaner to the max...BEHOLD MY CYCLONIC SUCKING POWER) you get to gaze upon my baggy baggy eyes. A gift from me to me, out on the web for all to enjoy.

The game...Lizett just went to sleep in the 3rd quarter. There is nothing to say or do, I have no witty comment involving magic pants. Keep your heads down for the season and don't attract any attention.

Lizett is starting to look hardcore into employment in the Columbus area, which is happy news. I have nothing specific against Austin, but it happens to be the backdrop for a whole mess of painful shots to my junk, so I'm quite looking forward to peeling off and forgetting it forever. Plus I'll be back with the fam and of course have much more convenient access to 50% of my adorable niecews. It's not a typo...it's efficiency. I myself will hopefully be going back to school when we move, which means I've got to take the GRE pretty soon. I've historically been a good test taker, but having been out of school for almost 5 years now...we'll see. On the up side, I have nontrivial experience in the field I'm looking to study and several recommendations comparing me favorably to Jesus. Here's hoping.

Current plan: wedding in March, moving in June. Cake tonight.

Today is our first full-length non-getting-back-in-the-groove type lift. LET'S GET GRANDE!

It's Finally Happened

2007-09-14T11:56:00.000-05:00

7 months after separating from the University, Notre Dame has finally revoked my web space--and since the vast majority of my images were hosted there, this site is now a big piece of poop. Stay tuned for an exciting new look that is more or less what I can remember of the old look.

iPenis

2007-09-12T11:14:00.000-05:00

Please excuse the vulgar post title, I understand that is what The Kids are calling the criminally insane who shell out for an iPhone these days. That's right, Steve Jobs has successfully manipulated his Reality Distortion Field in such a way as to make me believe that $400 is not only a perfectly reasonable exchange for a phone, but a bargain! $200 price drop? I can't lose! It is pretty glorious. I'm typing this post on it right now! No, I'm not. That would be the bees knees though, I'd be the coolest kid in the office. I do have to say, they don't exaggerate in the commercials. It actually is that quick and slick, and the iPod navigation is so awesome that when the lights go out I often fantasize that Lizett is a giant iPhone. It is also worth noting to the detractors that the keyboard is much easier to use than anticipated and by the end of the day I was able to type a complete transcript of Garfield Chews the Fat in less than 15 seconds! I have also taken to checking my email from bed first thing in the morning instead of walking over to my perfectly good laptop. iPenis indeed.

LET'S GET HUGE

2007-09-07T10:42:00.000-05:00

I am a large man, but I am not a big man. Lanky is a popular descriptor, although gangly has been gaining in the polls. There was, however, a brief window circa 2005 in which, due to a year of 5 meals a day and intense weight training that would turn any other person into Lou Ferrigno, I was roughly the size and shape of a normal human man. It was glorious! I would often take my shirt off and walk around the mall, laughing a jaunty laugh as shoppers jealously retched. I would crush walnuts between my boobies and flex out of plate mail, and that one time I punched The Rock so hard he exploded.

Nowadays all my mass is centered in my budding Schreiber Buddha. It makes me cry in the bathroom. So I took the plunge and went out and bought a weight bench. Two things:

1) Lizett is my hero. We have no room for a weight bench in our apartment. We used to have a spacious living room and a respectable dining room. Now we have a cramped living/dining room and a weight room. Lizett has raised no objection. If our child ever asks me how I knew she was the one, I will just flex and go "HOOOOOOUUUUUUGGGGGHHHHHHHBBRBRBRBRBRBB!!!"

2) Buying the bench and weight set was the most emasculating experience of my life. The salesman was, without exaggeration, 6'5", 250 easy, chiseled from diamond, voice of Barry White, with a thick voluptuous goatee that could feed a village for months. I have never felt so inadequate. He was polite but I know he falls asleep nightly chuckling at the thought of me lying trapped and writhing under the bar he spins like a basketball in his special trick weightlifting routine.

2b) Assembling the weight bench partially restored my manhood. I got to break out my ratchet set! I never get to use my ratchet set! I got to apply grease to joints, and hit things with a mallet. Three quarters through I was so pumped it was all I could do not to crank the Lords of Acid and chew through a telephone pole. HOOOOOOUUUUUUGGGGGHHHHHHHBBRBRBRBRBRBB!!!

Season Opener

2007-09-07T10:39:00.000-05:00

The game and by association the weekend remain too painful to write about. Perhaps after a victory tomorrow I'll be able to love again.

Smooth Like Butter Hard Like Scotch

2007-08-30T10:34:00.000-05:00

Let it be known that on the 29th day of August in the year 2000 aught 7, Dr. Swarlemagne VonBarkley III Esquire gained his certification as a beggining-level obedience trained puppy. Doubt me? BAM!

I went all Certificate of Achievement on your asses. But if you can't read it, perhaps this adorable hat will convince you! WA-PAAAAAH!

Oh yes, there was a graduation ceremony. Never let it be said that Petsmart has shame. First he had to pass his "final", which involved going around to different areas of the store to execute the various commands he's learned while that one frantic song played that's like

DEE DEE DEE DEE DEE DEE DEE
DEETLEE-dee-dee DEETLEE-dee-dee
DEE-dee DEE-dee DEE-dee DEE-dee
DEEEEEEEEEE <trom-boooooooone>
DEEEE DEEEE <trom-boooooooone>

And once he had passed, he got back to the training area for his Graduation Gift, which was his choice (soundtracked by the Final Jeopardy theme) of a blue rubber ball or a delicious pig ear. To the surprise of all he went for the animal flesh. After consuming his gift our trainer Jim spun up a little Pomp and Circumstance, adorned Swarleze's dome with the aforementioned adorable hat, and finally it was time to spend the next 15 minutes trying to keep his dome adorned with the aforementioned adorable hat. But Lizett couldn't make the ceremony, and it's long been her dream to see Swarles in a hat, so we made it work and keepsake photos were taken. Then I went outside and vomited for a while. In conclusion: FOOTBAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALL!!

Here Come The Irish

2007-08-28T13:41:00.000-05:00

T minus 2 days until my triumphant return to the midwest, and the excitement is mounting like painful gas. After months of severe football withdrawal followed by teasingly unsatisfying NFL preseason games, I am ready to blow and, consider yourself warned, the damage may be extensive. Things I am looking forward to besides the game itself:

Babies
Tiny plastic swords
The music of Vnak's laughter across 6 parking lots
Homemade Italian sausage
Amber Bock that's cold
Mothball's sweet embrace
Joker with a P
Wearing a sombrero and bandoleers to the HAA Tailgate
Yelling "Ai yi yi, mi cabeza!" throughout the ensuing beatdown
Not going to The Backer

There have been no developments of signifigance Texas-side, I'm afraid. Lizett and I have been locked in an epic battle for Nabisco Brand Mah-Jongg supremacy and spent two hours yesterday shopping for bubble pipes without success. You can't make this stuff up, and by can't I mean wouldn't ever.

WE. MAKE. HOLES IN TEETH. WE. MAKE. HOLES IN TEETH.

2007-08-22T13:16:00.000-05:00

Thank you everyone for your hearty congratulations on my re-engagement, and your attempts to kill me with beer. While I will not be brutally murdering myself in the most vomity-way possible, I do look forward to enjoying a few frosty brews with what looks to be a very good crowd GT weekend. A few details, and brace yourself for number one:

AHHHHHHHH! An institution has died, and with it a small part of myself. The peepee. Don't call Georgia...it's best if they hear it from me. Far be it from me to invite anyone to a tailgate that I myself am only invited to by association, but I will likely be basing my operations at Angelo's party place, so I hope to see you there.

Second, we'll be meeting Jism w/fam and I would assume Mothball at CJ's Friday sometime before band practice, so if you're in the mood for the greatest burger you've ever had followed possibly by the most glorious bathroom experience of your life, give any of us a call that afternoon. Mmmmmmmm...superpub.

I had a dentist appointment this morning, and I'm afraid I have some very bad news. I...have a...cavity. I don't understand, I've NEVER had a cavity, how could this ever happen to me?? Two engagments dissolving before my eyes, sure, that's life. The time that guy told me I had beautiful eyes in the Corby's bathroom, a little disturbing, but he's only human. Even when all those Japanese dudes took turns kicking me in the junk, I accepted it as cosmic justice for that time I kicked all those other Japanese dudes in the junk. But a CAVITY? My toothbrush cost $120! I even use the special head with the floss tabs. This is an outrage, and I assure you Lizett will pay dearly for my molar's insolence.

In conclusion, I would like to state to the UT network administrators and the Texas government that any gay pornography you may have seen downloaded to my state-owned machine over my employer's network during work hours is NOT for recreational purposes, but rather the result of a very cleverly disguised link to rawmen.com, sent via IM from a certain someone who should be enjoying her last few moments of happiness before paying dearly for her insolence.

My Knees!

2007-08-22T12:07:00.001-05:00

CCCHHHHHHHHHHH

AAAAHHHHH

CCCHHHHHHHHHHH

AAAAHHHHH

CCCHHHHHHHHHHH

AAAAHHHHH

CCCHHHHHHHHHHH

AAAAHHHHH

CCCHHHHHHHHHHH

AAAAHHHHH

CCCHHHHHHHHHHH

AAAAHHHHH

CCCHHHHHHHHHHH

AAAAHHHHH

REENGAGE'D

2007-08-16T23:04:00.001-05:00

Bong.

My Triumphant Return

2007-08-16T10:50:00.000-05:00

Work has been mad busy, and I only blog at work, so that's why I've been dead this past month. I'm still mildly busy, but I thought this photo of me and Lizett at the 02-03 Gator Bowl, recently rediscovered courtesy of one M. Sullivan, warranted a post:

What amuses me so is that we're wearing trash bags, apparently in a Dairy Queen(?), and I miraculously have absolutely no recollection whatsoever of the event. My ears look good though.

This past month has been largely dedicated to training Swarles. Dude is an IDIOT. He's very long but only seems to be aware of the front half of his body. He can also go from a full on sprint to a good old fashioned poopin'-squat INSTANTLY, defying all laws of physics and making me stumble over him flailing my arms like a chump. That's all I have to say about him for now, surely I'll expound on his moronic exploits in some future Swarley-centric post.

Who's going to the GT game? Lizett and I got tickets through her secret underground minority connections and the flights are booked so we'll be in Friday afternoon. JISM Church meeting time TBD. Also, no Mothball tailgates this year, so...someone have a tailgate.

My buddy Nemo is flying down today because he booked his flight for the wedding 72 months in advance and couldn't change it, so it's time to expose Texas to my oldest and most acerbically forthright friend. Here's hoping no one shoots him. As a bonus, he's flying into Houston, whereas we live in Austin, so there's two 6 hour round trips to pick his ass up right there. As a double bonus, Houston is due for a tropical storm today! BRING IT GOD!! Unless you don't have the guts.

Product Placement

2007-07-12T11:43:00.000-05:00

If I read one more line in one more review or one more comment bitching about product placement in the Transformers movie, I'm going to punch Lizett in the crotch. Personally I have no real beef with product placement anyway--I find it preferable to most traditional advertisements--but I can see how it starts to detract from the entertainment value of its vehicle when it becomes too gratuitous. Transformers, however, is based on a cartoon which existed solely to sell action figures. The irony of your bitchery is making my brain hurt. Two Transformers posts in a row combined with the fact that I'm mildly riled about something Transformers-related has already sealed my uber-nerdery, so I might as well dive in--the little silver dude was Frenzy, Nemo, and he did indeed exist in the original series. He was one of the cassettes who hung out with Soundwave.

I'm so very sorry and this will never happen again.

KABLAMMO!

2007-07-09T10:34:00.000-05:00

Transformers rocked so hard my eyes started bleeding. Normally I accept the Onion AVClub as the word of God, but now I want to eat their kids. An hour straight of teen romance goofery? Did you miss the part where the badass special forces dudes fought gigantic exploding robots? The only part I could've done without was the "wacky" rosegarden scene, but since the movie was directed as much at 8 year olds as it was at nostalgic 20-somethings I'm more than willing to let it slide. I haven't enjoyed an in-theater experience quite so much since I saw Batman Begins. When Starscream transformed in midair, ripped apart an F-22, then transformed back and flew off I pooped a little.

Here's a couple poop stories. Dog ownership is both hilarious and disgusting. You know how dogs hunch over and look all guilty when they're about to poop? Well our dog is very short and very long, so he has to hunch even more than normal, and it's a whole production--so imagine, if you will, a hunkered down dog suddenly realizing it is at an unsatisfactory pooping orientation, desperately and inexplicably needing to rotate 90 degrees, yet unwilling to stand back up to do so. The result was a strange, guilty shuffle-swivel so awkward and hilarious if I fully explained it to you all your bones would explode. I've decided I'm not going to share the second poop story.

Stung

2007-07-05T13:57:00.000-05:00

One of my coworkers came in late today because he was stung by a scorpion last night. He was just settling into bed when BAM! Stinger to the back! In the future I will be sleeping in a neoprene drysuit. A new one every night in case a scorpion crawled inside.

Meet Swarley II

2007-07-02T10:19:00.000-05:00

We got a dog. His name is Dr. Swarlemagne VonBarkley III Esquire. He's a doctor AND a lawyer, and also we've decided to become one of those couples who give their dogs long pretentious novelty names. He's some sort of hound mix, and he has a runny nose. We call him Swarley. Behold!

The more astute reader may note that the name Swarley is already in use for my CRV, which is why I'm introducing the Official 2007 Animobile Renaming Contest. The winner will receive, for reals:

Three 2007 US-American dollars
A framed picture of ex-Swarley
A coupon for 20% off your next purchase at Bed Bath & Beyond
Your head on Chuck Norris' body in this blog

Or if all incoming suggestions suck I'll just come up with something awesome and put Lizett's head on Chuck Norris' body.

Check it out, the many moods of Swarley:

Hungry:

Cautiously Optimistic:

Fierce:

Murderous:

Sooooo Sleepy:

Dear Sharon Osborne,

2007-06-27T15:59:00.000-05:00

Happy Average Birthday To Me

2007-06-27T12:58:00.000-05:00

June 27th! The most special of all days, the day before my actual birthday and the day after what Lizett believes to be my actual birthday. She got me Firefly: The Complete Series, two tubes of lip balm, and Special Birthday Sex which consisted of a peck on the cheek in addition to our standard light palm rubbing. Baby it blew my mind.

You were a foolish fool to laugh at Mal's suspenders

Gloriously enough, I sort of get tomorrow and Friday off because the other guys in my office are going to a conference in Canadia. Driving in to sit alone in a dark, windowless office is too depressing for me to contemplate, so I think I'll just stay home in my underoos gnawing on the various blocks of cheese piling up in our fridge. We do love cheese.

Liotta-bot-narc-sac-box...dar

2007-06-25T13:45:00.000-05:00

I had a horrible nightmare last night where Robot Ray Liotta and his robot cronies kept killing me and various people I know at Threesome's Putt Putt Golf & Games. Either I too was a robot or I was stuck in some sort of time loop because every time they killed me, I'd be back to the beginning again. The only way to even get a head start on the Liotta-bots was to sink a hole-in-one, known as a Threesome, I think because if I managed to do that only Ray and two cronie-bots would chase me down the steps, and then if I got away from them there'd be a new robot threesome shooting at me on every successive floor. It was a winding staircase and the only way to beat the bullets was to just jump down the middle, and then I'd break my legs. If I managed to get outside to the ally, they'd inevitably blow up my car--the Ford POS from Men In Black--before I got in. It sounds ludicrous but it was freaking scary and I apparently whipped around and kicked Lizett right in the ass at 3:30 in the morning. She was pissed. Real pissed.

There Is Two Of Them?

2007-06-20T14:54:00.000-05:00

Are you kidding me? From IGN:

June 15, 2007 - When Scrubs producer Bill Lawrence killed off supporting character Nurse Roberts, he told the actress who plays her that he would find a way for her to return if the show got another season. According to Variety, Lawrence is proving to be a man of his word and he will be bringing Aloma Wright back to the show in its seventh season. She will play Nurse Roberts' twin sister Shirley, who is not only an alcoholic, but holds none of the deep religious beliefs of her sister.

Worst. Season. Ever.

Bandidas

2007-06-19T14:23:00.000-05:00

It was with high hopes and erect nipples that I sat down with Lizett to watch Bandidas. Just look at this DVD cover:

Can you fathom a world, based on the available information, in which this is not going to be a mind-blowing experience? Salma Hayek...and Penélope Cruz...as turn-of-the-century Mexican bank robbers.

Their entire function in the movie is to be hot, have hilariously thick accents, and whoop ass--which they did. And I'm no Steve Zahn expert, but based on Sahara and Saving Silverman alone I must conclude that the man is hilarious, and he did just fine too. The main villain was was none other than Dwight Yoakam, who in addition to being a graduate of my own alma mater, Northland High School, had a SWEET villain moustache which on its own merit should have made the movie. And finally, it had a horse climbing a ladder.

It sucked though. It sucked more than 1,000 Dysons running over 1,000 lint covered oriental rugs at 15,000 feet when there is a sudden loss of cabin pressure and everything is sucked out of the plane. And not like Walking Tall 2 sucked. I enjoy a bad movie as much as anyone, probably much more. I love to mock their sucktitude. I've seen Wing Commander 4 times! But with Bandidas, there was simply nothing to mock. None of the characters were in any way believable as human beings. They were pod people, and I hate them.

You had everything, Joachim Roenning, and you threw it all away. God save you if your junk ever comes within range of my foot.

Four "Beers"

2007-06-19T11:05:00.001-05:00

I recently switched over to non-alcoholic beer because I kept punching cops and I have no desire to find out the hard way that I'm too pretty for jail. Which reminds me, the first time I ever visited Lizett we were strolling down 6th Street and this drunk idiot was brawling it up with like 8 or 9 cops. It was surreal. There was no crowd gathering, just people going about their business as some chump got destroyed in the middle of the street. How wasted do you have to be to think it's a good idea to fight off 8 or 9 cops all by your lonesome? Anyway, I've been sampling non-alcoholic alternatives to my favorite frosty brews--here are my findings:

Kaliber

From the makers of Guinness. The lice hate the sugar--it's delicious. I wish it were winter so I could freeze it into ice blocks and skate on it...and melt it in the springtime and drink it! I could switch to this exclusively. It goes down ridiculously smooth, with a light, malty/coffee aftertaste, kind of like a cross between BrewCo Founder's Stout and Belhaven St. Andrew's Ale, which Me-aficionados may recognize as my favorite brew of all time. In fact, it's kind of like a bad St. Andrew's clone, which is like saying some chick looks kind of like Salma Hayek. Not the real thing, but she's still way hotter than everyone else around.

Coors

Coors Light has been my standby beer since that fateful day we first brought Frosty into our lives. Sure, there was idle talk of somehow locating a keg of Highlife and popping it in for old times sake, but every time we went to Belmont somehow we'd come home with our standard. From the pitchers at Senior Bar/Coaches to the Big Dawgs at Chili's to Thursday night Corby's, I have railed against mainstream opinion that Coors Light is only slightly better than juice squeezed from a can of sixty year old cat food and left to fester 6 hours in the sun, and I'm proud to say that Coors Non-Alcoholic does not disappoint. It has a stronger flavor than Coors light (similar to Budweiser), with a slightly less pleasant aftertaste (similar to Miller Lite), but overall I could drink it every day with no complaints. I have a new bulk beer.

Beck's

This is where things start to get a little ugly. I believe I've had Beck's standard, but I'm not really familiar enough with it to remember if I particularly liked it. The non-alcoholic version is still drinkable, but it's more of a I'll Finish These Off Because There's Five Left In The Fridge situation than anything else. Going down it just tastes like a moderate german beer, which is to say more "beery" than any mainstream domestics--and that's a plus--but then the aftertaste can only be described as swampy. Like you just licked a frog or something. I have never licked a frog myself, but if I did and it tasted like the trail-end of Beck's Non-Alcoholic, I would not even be mildly surprised. Then I would vomit.

O'Douls

It is a complete mystery to me how this became the only non-alcoholic beer widely available in restaurants. There is simply no excuse for this to enjoy the popularity that it does. It's like a weak version of Natty Light. Going down it's just carbonated water, with a light LIGHT LIGHT beer aftertaste on the trail end. I have recently learned of the existence of O'Douls Amber, so I'll give that a shot before forever damning the brewer to hell for forcing me to drink this flavorless abomination in popular chain restaurants, but my hopes are not high. Why order it all all? No other options--and there really is nothing like a tall beer with your steak. And I eat a lot of steak.

Five Things I Want To Buy

2007-06-13T10:44:00.000-05:00

There was a time, long ago before I started dating Lizett, that I lived like a king. I had a job that paid too much for too little work and virtually no expenses. I bought 5 iPods. I ate out every night. Sometimes I'd withdrawal thousands of dollars in ones and roll around like a dog.

It's over. I have left a privately funded school and gone public. I have abandoned Mothball subsidized rent for a Big Boy apartment. I have to buy gas. Lizett consumes $950 each week in meat products alone. In short, I can no longer simply spend as if the money will never run out. Here are the ways in which I would buy happiness if I could:

Apple iPhone

Don't tell me this isn't going to live up to the hype. I myself am a bit skeptical of the touch screen keyboard, but in my opinion there is virtually no chance of this thing getting anything less than stellar reviews and widespread adoption. Smart phones are already well established as being indispensably awesome, and apple never fails to blow minds. I would hunt and consume an adorable kitten for the google maps integration alone.

Digital Piano

I played the piano for years growing up, and although I was never nearly so good as I was on the Euph, I wasn't terrible. I tried to fiddle around a little while I was in NC for Babyfest, and it was pretty embarrassing. I can still sight read well enough, and my fingers know where to go, I just can't do it with reasonable speed or coordination. I'd like to get back into it because, unlike the Euph or any of the other brass I've picked up over the years, you can sit down and start playing piano wherever pianos are found.

LCD HDTV

We actually already have an HDTV. Lizett bought an Insignia CRT which has pretty much the best picture quality one can get. In fact, being a 4:3 CRT, for the vast majority of available programming it's probably much more watchable than what I would upgrade to. Still, it's not huge and it's not flat. Why do I care if it's flat? Because. And at 27", that's bumped down to like...24" (?) in 16:9--after living with Mothballvision, there really is no substitute for the 4x life-size pockmarked face of Edward James Olmos.

Wrinkle Free Shirts

As I type I am wearing a blue and white striped wrinkle free button-up that was originally intended to be a birthday present for my father. The sleeves are way too short so I've got to roll them up, but this is pretty much the only button-up I wear anymore because I am too lazy to iron and this is the extent of my wrinkle free selections. After working in the dome for 3+ years, the rest of my wardrobe consists almost entirely of solid button-ups and polos, but since moving to Austin I've grown lazy and have busted out the iron exactly zero times. I don't love looking like slob, however, so some new hassle free gear would be huge. Also I'd love it if my sleeves reached my hands. 15 1/2 35-36.

MacBook

Two Apple products on one five-item list? Suck it, I'm a MacHead. Further, I am a computer guy without a computer. It's embarrassing. I sold my own machine years ago to help finance ring #1, and have been fortunate enough to blunder into work-issued PowerBook G4s since that time. My current state-issued machine, however, is old, clunky, slow, lasts about 20 minutes on battery power and, I swear, appears to have been chewed on by someone's dog. The new MacBooks are cheap, sleek, light, Core 2 Duo, and can run OSX and Windows in parallel--genuinely, I cannot fathom why anyone would buy another machine.

Bonus item: Krispy Kremes. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

My Eyes! The Goggles Do Nothing! II

2007-06-13T09:22:00.000-05:00

Though popularized by Rainier Wolfcastle, to me that line will always be singularly Mothball's. Carrey's Oh Billy? Mothball's. Farley's Let's drink some beers? Mothball's. Myers' ERRRMM, I love you son? Mothball's. Lizett's I love you Billy? Frosty's. To get back to the point, my eyes are meeeeeeessed up. I don't know if I scratched my cornea, or have an eye infection, or if Lizett stabbed me in the eye as a practical joke, but I was driving to work Monday morning and out of nowhere, BAM! Keeping my eyes open was abruptly no longer an option.

Being the pale, fair haired, blue eyed MacDaddy/DaddyMac that I am, I've always been abnormally sensitive to light, but normally I can sunglass/car shade/squint my way through it. Not so Monday. I could barely keep my right eye open enough to pull off the road, my left eye was sealed shut, tears were streaming down both sides of my face, and though I was in the car alone I swear I heard someone screaming like a woman. It was glorious. What could I do? I was already halfway to work. I covered up old lefty with my hand, screamed YAAAAARRR! and tally-ho'd it the rest of the way to the sweet release of my conveniently unlit office.

Even my desk lamp was too much. I turned it off, cranked my monitor brightness down to minimum, and then quietly resolved not to go see a doctor about this. Don't worry mom, I will if it persists. It's been getting steadily better since. I managed to drive to work this morning without any sun-induced weeping at all! I cried a little when I saw litter on the highway. And then again when Lizett shattered all my windows with a maglite as a practical joke. And when the media started covering the media's over-coverage of Paris Hilton. If any news outlet so much as hints at covering the media's over-coverage of the media's over-coverage of Paris Hilton, I...I don't know what I'll do. I don't.

Babyfest 2007

2007-06-12T13:01:00.000-05:00

I flew down to North Carolina this weekend for my nephew Andrew's baptism. I've got to see him while I can, because being unbaptized myself, we're going to be spending eternity in entirely different places. Thanks, mom. The whole fam went down for the occasion, and of course the entire function of the adult family members is now to ooh and ahh over the babies. There was a lot of cuteness going on.

Andrew has got to be the most placid baby ever. I barely heard him cry all weekend, and when he did it was just ridiculously cute because his I'm-Sad face is exactly the face an adult would make trying to ridiculously overact a caricature of a sad baby. Claire is pretty placid too, only 600,000 pounds heavier. She's a perfect sphere. If her face weren't so adorable it'd be impossible to determine her spatial orientation. She enjoys breast milk, long walks on the beach, and having her tummy eaten.

Gwen and Natalie together was pretty awesome. The first day was pretty calm, just two toddlers playing together in mind-blowingly adorable ways. Day 2: Thunderdome. Two babies enter, one baby leaves. Then the other baby leaves, but without some coveted toy. These clashes were like nothing I can describe. There exists no amount of italics, capitalizations, font sizes, and bolds to accurately represent the high-pitched mess of screams and shrieks coming from the melee. Did anyone ever play the old Archon, where the banshee's scream would kill anyone foolish enough to blunder into range? It was like that without the sweet release of death. I'd write about all the cute things they did too but now I've just distracted myself reminiscing about the awesomeness of Archon. BONG:

Crazy Mexican Update Tres

2007-06-06T10:02:00.001-05:00

I've received independent confirmation from multiple anonymous sources that Lizett is, in fact, batshit insane. No word on the number of people living above us.

Today I Am A Man

2007-06-06T09:06:00.000-05:00

Lizett and I are going to start trying for a baby. Holy crap wouldn't that be the most glorious 180 of all time? We've decided that despite the fact that we're not married and have no immediate plans to become so, Lizett is still in school, and I have insufficient income to start a family, I am nevertheless officially ready for fatherhood now that I've got a Louisville Slugger under our bed. It's such a quintessential dad thing to have. As much as I'd love to fantasize that my two large, soft, hairless fists are a sufficient defense against whatever may come our way, I'm not sure me getting my ass kicked is Lizett's best option for protection against another home intruder. So I have--

Haha! I just got a call from a detective (they assign detectives to home break-ins?) at APD and he goes "Stephen? You're not going to believe this but my key works in your lock too!" Then just before my head exploded he says "Heh, kidding! Seriously though, what's going on?" Sweet Mary I just got Gotcha'd by the Austin Police.

--so I have piggybacked onto the ranks of generations of Concerned Dads and purchased a large hunk of Whompin' Stick at my local Sports Authority. My plan, should anyone break in again, is to hand it to Lizett and have her crack me over the head so I don't have to go through the shame of soiling myself while conscious. Good luck with the Bad Man, I'll say--and then the supple, comforting bosom of oblivion. That's love.

Crazy Mexican Update Dos

2007-06-05T13:54:00.001-05:00

It has recently been suggested, and the movement is gaining a foothold, that there are NOT, in fact, 16 Mexicans living above us--that all the guys walking by who I assumed were the same two people actually are the same two people. This, of course, would mean Lizett is batshit insane. Updates as the story develops.

So Long, Suckers!

2007-06-05T13:06:00.000-05:00

I couldn't ask for too much more from our apartment management. Not only are they evicting the Chumpersons, they are relocating us to a new unit elsewhere in the complex to forestall any fear of reprisal for the outrageous offense of reporting the crime. I guess the manager talked to the "boy" as she called him, and the convo essentially went:

Manager: Did you enter another apartment through a locked door?
Boy: Yeah, my own key worked.
Manager: That's impossible.
Boy: Oh...then it was unlocked.
Manager: You already said it was locked.
Boy: He tried to punch my son!

Which is fair, because it's obvious to anyone who knows me that I respond to pretty much every situation by punching a 3 year old child in the face. Desperation is a stinky cologne, friend.

911 Lady Yelled At Me!

2007-06-04T12:45:00.000-05:00

We decided to call the police on Friday just so later no one could say "Well why didn't you call the police?" It wasn't exactly an emergency situation so we just called our local department and left a message. They called back today and gave me a number I could call to file a report, and for some reason those people transferred me to 911, and let me tell you the 911 dispatcher was NOT happy.

Lady: 911 are you in an emergency?
Me: No, I'd like to file a police report. 311 transferred me.
Lady: Alright sir and what happened?
Me: Someone came into my apartment. Door was locked.
Lady: And when did this happen sir?
Me: Friday night, 7, 7:30.
Lady: <irritated> Sir why did you wait this long to call??
Me: I called our local police station that night, they just got back to me today.
Lady: <enraged> You don't DO that sir, someone breaks in, you call US!
Me: Well I didn't think it was an emergency, we know the guy, he's our neighbor.
Lady: <fuming> I don't care WHO it was, that happens again, you call 911!

Ahh!! Why are you yelling at me!! I'm getting very tense!! Anyway, the report is filed. Apparently it counts as a home burglary even though nothing was taken because he broke in. Lizett talked to one of the cops from the local department and he said nothing would come of it because we can't prove he came in intentionally (his story is that he thought it was his apartment and his own key worked; management says that's impossible...comforting) but at least it's documented, so now...something.

In better news, I'm all decked out in my new monkey outfit today, which is awesome. My shirt says "It's Hard Out There For A Chimp" and it has a picture of a wizened old chimpanzee with deep knowledge and sadness in his eyes. My underoos have a picture of an angry gorilla on the front with the words "Its Monkey Time" [sic] emblazoned across the derriere. As a primate enthusiast this offends me--a gorilla is a great ape, not a monkey--but as a lover of monkeys I'm just flat out PUMPED about how freaking HARD my boxers rock. If anyone caught the irony that I called it a monkey outfit and chimps aren't monkeys either, you're a huge nerd. I'm looking at you, Haines'.

Do You Smell. What The Rock. IS COOKING??

2007-06-03T21:00:00.000-05:00

Stinks like sex in here.

Crazy Mexican Update

2007-06-01T21:14:00.001-05:00

Oh God, one of them just broke into our place. Okay, more strolled in. WHY DO THE CRAZY MEXICANS HAVE THE KEY TO OUR PLACE?? For reals. I heard the door unlock, he strolls in. He started walking down the hall for the bedroom. I made a noise from the living room and he turns around and goes "Oh...sorry man" and leaves. Didn't give the key back, didn't explain himself, just skipped off to his car and drove into the distance.

I feel like I should have a chat with this fine gentleman, but I also don't want to get stabbed, so I think I'll just let the apartment management deal with it tomorrow. On the plus side, breaking and entering has GOT to be grounds for eviction. Adios, amigos!

Disengaged

2007-05-31T10:07:00.000-05:00

Okay, the wedding has been downgraded from postponed to officially off. That's right, the man who was engaged twice in one year is now disengaged twice in two! On my current curve, if I were to start dating a new woman I'd propose to her roughly 7 hours into the relationship, the ring would cost $512,000, and I'd actually break things off 3 months prior to meeting her. I know, what a wildly inappropriate thing to say, but let me assure you being able to mock myself about this is the only thing keeping my brain from imploding. We simply decided that planning for marriage wasn't appropriate until we can definitively determine whether Lizett is in fact human or rather some sort of pod person sent here to destroy me. My bet is on human, but if I'm wrong...avenge me.

No, the real (albeit wildly generalized) story is that neither of us are as prepared for the commitment as we supposed. Pretty boring stuff. We're still together though, which means we're living in SIN with no matrimonial end in sight. Scandal! Actually, to be honest, I'm not enormously more comfortable with that arrangement than our parents are, but such is life. I'm there now, and we've got a big kitchen.

Bah-bah-bah BAH-BAH, Bah-bah-bah BAH-BAH!

2007-05-30T10:27:00.000-05:00

First off, don't ever watch The Good Shepherd. You must trust me. It was 3 hours long, everyone was whispering the whole time, and there was a piano going DOO-doo-DOO-doo-DOO-doo-DOO-doo in what I can only assume was intended to be a creepy suspense building manner for roughly 70% of the film. It was the first movie since Punch Drunk Love that I have seriously considered quitting on in the middle, and I watched Bubba Ho-Tep less than a year ago.

The new place is pretty fantastic. My only complaint is the estimated 16 Mexicans living in the apartment above us. They are forever doing their traditional hat dance at all hours of the night, yelling "Ariba, ariba! Soy Mexicano!" and sacrificing virgins to Buluc Chabtan. No, they really do stomp a lot, but I have decided to play the part of the horrendously racist white guy since it was revealed, and this is sadly and humiliatingly true, that I can't tell any of the upstairs residents apart. Lizett kept saying things like "Good LORD how many people live in that apartment??" to which I'd smile and nod and privately assume she was losing her mind because I thought all the people walking by were the same two guys.

Now to be fair, I am not widely noted for paying attention to things, and if there had been a bunch of white dudes living upstairs with identical builds, haircuts, and moustaches, I wouldn't have noticed they were distinct individuals either, but I am here to tell you when you are dating a Hispanic woman and it is suddenly revealed that you are unable to detect any difference between your Mexican neighbors, things get real awkward real fast. I had to take off my pants to keep from hyperventilating. Everyone besides the Corby's crew may ignore the previous sentence.

So we finally went up there around 11:30 one night to ask them to tether the horse they clearly had galloping around in their living room, only to be greeted at the door by something much worse: a three year old boy. Suddenly the stomping became abundantly clear. Now this begs the question, what the hell is a 3 year old child doing up at 11:30, and why the hell are his parents letting him jump up and down in the middle of the night in a top floor apartment, but in the moment I can assure you both Lizett and I felt like total chodes. I threw dirt in the child's eyes and we fled into the night.

Finally, LB, since this is my only contact with you, guess who my new neighbor is? ShineCindy. No shit.

A Whole MESS of CAPILATIZED WORDS!

2007-05-16T11:58:00.000-05:00

Dude, it was awesome. REAL awesome. Not in that Wow, That Was Way Better Than I Expected way--it was awesome in EXACTLY the way I knew only a Kevin Sorbo direct-to-DVD remake sequel could be.

So this gang of tattooed street toughs is slowly buying up all the property in a small southern town at prices so low they're insane-ane-ane by intimidating the local business owners into selling via such methods as blowing them up with gasoline tankers. BAJOOOM! Someone has to Do Something, and that someone is Kevin Sorbo's dad, a local sheriff with a heart of gold, nads of steal, and jowls of a St. Bernard. He is killed in short order.

Enter KEVIN FREAKING SORBO. It's time for payback! It's time for justice! It's time to WALK TALL. No wait. Kevin Sorbo has decided to run. Justice is unattainable. The system is broken. The town is lost. Kevin Sorbo is a pansy who tells his mother their home is not worth dying for.

In the next scene, Kevin Sorbo is in a bar, and one of the street toughs refuses to pay for his beers. This is the LAST STRAW. You destroyed my hometown, and I fled. You killed my dad, and I looked the other way. But with God as my witness you will pay for those Budweisers! Kevin Freaking Sorbo DESTROYS these guys, along with a large portion of the bar. His change of heart is never explained. Presumably they cut that scene out to pare the film down to it's 88 minute run time.

Some stuff happens. The street toughs wreck people, and Kevin Sorbo tries to rally the townsfolk. Nothing doing. If you want something done, you have to do it yourself, so Kevin FREAKING Sorbo, I swear to God, jumps on a HORSE and rides to the outlaws hideout like "I'm HERCULES, bitch!" for the Final Showdown. As he rides off, his attractive female FBI agent buddy, who has no function in the movie whatsoever, shouts "Don't do this! You're a cop!", which is OUTSTANDING because Kevin Sorbo's character is not a cop. I have no idea how this made it past editing. Anyway, Kevin Sorbo stalks around the dimly lit complex while his horse manages to provide key distractions by creepily scampering past the bad guys a la the ventilation scene in Aliens, and then he shoots everyone.

Or DOES he?

Hercules

2007-05-12T10:33:00.001-05:00

I rented Walking Tall: The Payback last night. It's not the one with The Rock, it's the direct-to-DVD sequel starring Kevin Sorbo. I haven't had a chance to watch it yet but I am looking forward to it more than I can express.

I'm Back

2007-05-07T13:59:00.000-05:00

I'm back in sunny Austin after a week home in Columbus with the folks. My dad died on Tuesday. At first I thought this wouldn't be an appropriate place to mention that because the tone of this blog tends to be so flippant and...wildly insincere, but then I thought, why not? I write about everything else that's happening in my life. It's not a secret.

It was sudden. He had a massive stroke last weekend and his body gave out a couple days later. The stroke destroyed his higher brain function instantly so none of us had a chance to talk to him again and say goodbye, but honestly that's better. Not better for us but better for him. In all likelihood it was completely painless. There was no time to be frightened, or to worry about my mother or the rest of the family--no time, knowing my father, to wonder if the gas tank in the Accord had dipped below 2/3, or who would maintain his tools (which he hadn't used in years) after he was gone. We mourned in the Schreiber way, which mostly consisted of stuffing our faces and laughing about his quirks. That's the way we do it. There's no hugs or I love you's or long tearful talks about how much we'll miss him in my family. They're really not necessary, we all know.

His obituary says he enjoyed photography, woodworking, and spending time with his grandchildren, which of course aside from being wildly incomplete is a huge understatement. It has to be, you only have a few sentences to sum someone up in those things--but to say he enjoyed these things doesn't acknowledge the magnitude of his operations. He used to put up this kind of winter wonderland of Dickens Village porcelain houses every Christmas, a HUGE one with dozens of pieces that literally took over our entire dining room on tier after tier of tables constructed specifically for the purpose. It was truly impressive and it would be impossible to describe the attention to detail that went into it to someone who hasn't seen it. Anyway, every year before he took it down, he'd take pictures from every angle to document exactly how things were that year. These were inanimate houses, snapshots would have sufficed, but my dad got out the tripod, the flash diffuser, he manually focused every frame, and filled God knows how many rolls of film with shots upon shots that he would likely never look at. He just liked taking the pictures.

As for spending time with his grandkids, that one was pretty obvious. My dad didn't get outwardly excited about much. Everything was "decent" or "not bad", but he was pretty open about his affection for the little ones. I remember one time Gwen got it in her head that Grandpa shouldn't be watching TV right now, and she kept running up and turning off the set while he was watching the evening news. This, if you knew my father, is madness. In anyone else this would be suicidal behavior, but he just laughed every time she did it. Generally when I called home it'd just be smalltalk before he passed me on to my mom, but if I got him on the grandkids he'd talk for a good long while. He obviously really enjoyed being a grandfather and I'm glad he had the chance to have babies living in his house again.

The woodworking is probably what I will remember most, and definitely most frequently, but it wasn't really just woodworking. He knew how to do just about everything. When it was time to fix the roof he didn't hire a roofer, he just bought some shingles and did it himself. He repainted the entire exterior of our old house on his own. He retiled our hallway. He replaced the upstairs toilet. When we were growing up we had three bedrooms, one for my parents, one for my sister, and one for the four boys. When the boys got too big to fit in one room, he just went to the basement and built a new one. Studs, drywall, wiring, ventilation, painting, carpeting, everything from scratch. He had tools for everything. This Christmas Eve I was putting together a little shopping cart for Gwen and I accidentally nailed a pronged spacer washer onto the axle...on the wrong side of the wheel. There was no removing it, and her present wasn't going to work right, but my dad said don't worry, I've got just the tool to pull that right off. Of course! Of course he would have a tool to pull a pronged washer off of a metal dowel! Comes up all the time! But fixing mistakes is the exception, for the most part I do things like that right the first time. Measure twice, cut once is the old adage, and lots of people give the advice, but my dad actually showed me. Any job worth doing is worth doing right is another standard, and I can assure you it means much more when you see it than when you hear it. No one could ever accuse my dad of not being careful, or prepared, or mind-bendingly thorough. 800 years ago when I was engaged to Kelly we bought a condo together. It was a real shit hole. Some athletes lived there before us and they had torn the place to shreds. I worked hours every day after work to fill in all the holes and dents, rehang the doors, reinstall the closet shelves, replace the bad sockets, mount the new blinds, repaint every single surface in the place, and quite frankly when I was done it looked great, even professional. Because it wasn't the first time I'd done all that stuff. My dad had already shown me how to do it right.

Cancelación de la Boda

2007-04-30T12:18:00.000-05:00

So, the wedding is postponed due to an anticipated scabies outbreak in Houston this summer. For reals. I know I contacted a number of people requesting address information and such so I wanted to use this highly reliable method of disseminating information to spread the word that I do not in fact hate you just because an invitation is not forthcoming. Blah. We haven't set a new date yet but barring some sort of city wide chigger infestation we're tentatively figuring on early next summer. Sorry Mothball, this is merely a postponement, so you neither get the $1000 nor the opportunity to kick me full on squa in the nuts as per our May 2006 Hooters agreement.

Dew

2007-04-27T10:48:00.000-05:00

I think I am off the Dew. I have been weaning myself slowly but surely from a quantity of 2-3 20oz bottles and 4-5 cans per day to a single can just yesterday, and having miraculously woken up without a crushing, soul-rending headache this morning I think I may have successfully escaped the clutches of caffeine addiction. I'm so excited! I'm so excited! I downed half a can on the way to work this morning just to be safe--conveniently the last one in my fridge--and am looking forward to a new pain free life filled with Sprite and IBC Root Beer. In related news, I have also recently stopped drinking beer, and plan to buy a small but nimble yacht with the combined savings. I will name it The Abe Lincoln, not after the real Abraham Lincoln, nor the rather disturbing sex practice sharing his name, but the teenage clone of Abe Lincoln featured on the 2002 Canadian cartoon series Clone High, and his outrageous adventures.

Ouch

2007-04-25T11:07:00.000-05:00

Ahhhhhh, due to circumstances beyond my control, the past 4 days or so have been unbelievably horrible. No sleep, severe dehydration, inability to eat, and some guy kept running up and kicking me in the balls. Also I appear to have a slow leak in my rear right tire.

But that's all changing! I woke up this morning refreshed, hungry, actually having to pee, and have triumphantly returned to work where I promptly began catching up on The Onion AVClub. Hot Fuzz is supposed to be pretty good. I hear Surf Ninjas is supposed to be pretty good too.